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dwobbitfromtheshire · 4 months

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Summary: Steve and Eddie bond over hating Billy Hargrove, and then they suck face.

Steve dove into the closet and leaned against the wall, sliding a broom through the handles of the storage closet. He sighed in relief as he leaned his head back. He froze and tensed up when a pair of boots appeared under the door. They stood there for a moment before stomping away. Steve moved back into the storage closet and turned around to find the light. Suddenly, it came on, and Eddie Munson was staring at him, only inches away from his face. Steve jumped and stopped himself from screaming outloud.

"Did you just lock me in here with you?" Eddie asked.

"Sorry, Hargrove is out there, and I do not want to face him," Steve said quickly.

"Keep that fucking broom exactly where it is then," Eddie said and slid to the floor. "And have a seat."

He patted the floor next to him, and Steve plopped down beside him.

"You hate him too?" Steve asked.

"With all my fucking heart," Eddie said. "Honestly, a little scared of the guy too."

"He's definitely a psychopath. I don't enjoy the way he stares at me or follows me. Normally, I wouldn't have a problem if a guy has a crush on me but this guy. . . Especially ones who nearly murdered me. . . Well, if it anyone else, I'd be asking for his number, but his personality is way too ugly," Steve said.

"So, you don't really care who knows that you like guys?" Eddie asked.

"I like both and no, not really. I figured you would be safe with the hanky and all," Steve replied.

"Oh, that's just a cool metalhead thing. Does it mean something?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Steve grinned.

"Damn. Okay, well, that explains some things then," Eddie blinked. "Not that I'm complaining or anything because I like both too. It took me a while to figure that out."

"We all figure things out on our own time. We get there eventually," Steve shrugged.

"Yeah," Eddie said softly. "I never thought I'd meet someone exactly like me, though. Bisexual. I mean, there's Hargrove, but I'd rather gouge my own eyes out. You know, most people think we have the same taste in music. Sure, he listens to heavy metal, but what that jackass mostly listens to is glam metal like Motley Crue. He's a Tommy Lee wannabe douchebag. Normally, I respect all music but I hate Tommy Lee."

"He dresses like a douchebag too," Steve said. "He's abusive to everyone, including his own stepsister. He's racist too. I had to pull him off one of the kids I babysit. He nearly caved my face in."

"He's a fucking monster. His father's just as monstrous, I heard, but it doesn't justify him passing it on, especially if it's his kid stepsister. Honestly, I'd rather have you back as king," Eddie said.

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

"If you think you were bad, think again. I wouldn't even classify you as a bully. You actually tried to keep some of those jocks in line," Eddie said.

"I just never thought it was all that funny that they did that. It never made sense," Steve said.

"Well, then, it makes you a million times smarter than they are, big boy," Eddie said, nudging him.

"You know, I think he's probably gone by now," Steve said.

"Or he's lying in wait," Eddie whispered, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

Steve could feel his breath against his skin, and he shuddered. Eddie placed a hand on his leg and caressed his knee gently.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked softly.

"Getting closer to you, it's kind of scary out there," Eddie said coyly. "What's your favorite kind of music?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure if I have a favorite kind. It's kind of all over. I don't really lean towards one genre. I do, really like Queen and Bob Seger," Steve said.

"That's respectable. Queen always rules," Eddie said. "I've listened to Bob myself."

Eddie moved his hand from his knee to his chest, rubbing his ringed fingers against Steve gently. He was practically snuggled against Steve’s side. Steve looked down at his hand before finally looking at him. Their faces were very close now, their lips almost touching.

"There's something that I didn't tell you," Eddie whispered.

"What?" Steve asked.

"What eventually led me to realize I liked both. . .is you," Eddie said.

"Yeah?" Steve asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

Steve leaned forward and closed the distance between them, his lips pressing against Eddie's in a soft, tender kiss. Eddie moved against him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Steve opened his mouth, allowing Eddie's tongue inside. It wasn't enough for Eddie, however. He needed to be closer to Steve. He threw his leg over Steve and straddled his waist as he sunk down into his lap. Eddie gasped and licked into Steve’s mouth as he gripped the nape of his neck. Steve broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

"Freshman Steve is screaming inside me right now," Steve said.

"Wait. . .you've had a crush on me since you were a freshman?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah."

"Loser," Eddie cackled and kissed him deeply while Steve laughed against his lips.

Steve broke the kiss again, grinning.

"We should probably leave before we develop a problem," Steve said.

"But Steve, what if he's still out there?" Eddie asked and paused. "Besides, what if I want to develop a problem?"

Steve laughed and leaned his forehead against Eddie's.

"If he's still out there, I'll protect you," he said teasingly.

"Steve Harrington, my hero. Well, come on, big boy, let's face the music," Eddie said.

They stood up and slid the broom out of the handle. They opened the door and slowly walked out of the closet. They looked both ways down the empty hallway. The coast was clear.

"Wait, why were you hiding in the closet?" Steve asked.

"I hook up with the janitor sometimes," Eddie replied.

"You do not! Art is a happily married man," Steve said.

"Okay, so, I don't," Eddie cackled and paused. "Wait, why are you on a first name basis with the janitor?"

"I eat in the storage closet sometimes," Steve said. "When I can't use my car."

"Not anymore. Art is going to have to be disappointed. You're sitting at our table from now on," Eddie said. "Jesus H Christ, storage closet and your car? I want to eat your face."

They walked down the empty hallway, their pinkies brushing up against each other's occasionally.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #bi4bi #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes

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jksprincess10 · 1 year

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I can sabotage me by myself || Joel Miller x reader

A/N: This is a part two of lucky for me, I run on spite and sweet revenge. Can be read on its own. I wanted to write more of ennemy!yn and violent Joel.

CW: Attempted rape (not graphic), violence, jealous!Joel, Joel being toxic and protective, smut, thigh riding, car sex, angst but comfort, language, rough filthy sex, toxic relationship (seriously if a man talks to you like that, leave his ass).

Read part 3 here

After that night, you said you’d try to work together. Well, sort of. You made some deals that would advantage both of you. But most of the time, you just tried to stay out of his way and him, out of yours. Sometimes, you’d also meet in the darkness of the night to fulfill your desires of violence and lust.

Tonight, you had a huge deal to help out your group and Joel. You were supposed to get a car battery for a vehicle that you found just outside of the QZ. It was in good shape; it just needed a new battery. With a car, you’d be able to cover more distance outside of the QZ.

Joel was supposed to meet you, but you decided to go to the headquarter first. Part of you wanted to show him that you were capable of doing this alone, that he could benefit more from you than you could benefit from him.

You were so wrong.

You met Noah’s assistant, Elijah, at the group’s headquarters. They had a strong hand over most deals inside the walls. They were very powerful, and Noah and Elijah were known to be very dangerous men. But you knew men like them. They all had the same weaknesses.

“You got what we want?” You asked Elijah without waiting for him to talk first. He was alone, but you knew there was always more men lurking around and waiting for his signal.

“Yeah. Thought you’d come with Miller, though.” He pointed you to the battery to show that it was legit. It had barely any wear to it.

“He was busy.” You justified.

You were satisfied with the battery. You kneeled on the floor to open your bag to get your things to exchange. You had fresh vegetables that you had grown.

“Wait, baby doll, I thought you would give me something else.” He shot with a suggestive look.

You tried to get up to your feet, but he held you there. Catastrophic scenarios ran through your head as he was caressing your shoulders slowly.

“That’s not how I work anymore.” You said coldly.

But he kept going. You waited for him to be distracted, before twisting his wrist. He groaned in pain, which sufficed to alert his other men. Soon, four men, including Elijah, trapped you in a circle of their bodies. You fought how you could; biting and cutting, not wanting to alert more people by using your gun. You knew you couldn’t last long that way though, and soon, you found yourself with your cheek on the cold ground, trying to counter the blows of fists and the kicks to your body. You tried to take everything silently in hopes they would stop, until the world became disappeared before your eyes, replaced by pure darkness.

***

You woke up to grunts and the sound of violent punches. You barely moved not to alert anyone; besides, your whole body was sore.

“What the FUCK have you done to her?!”

You barely turned your head to the sound of the familiar voice. Joel. Three of the men were already dead, their lifeless bodies close to yours. The only left was Elijah, in a struggle with the older man, who was trying to strangle him.

“Since when do you care about this whore, Miller?!”

That was enough to enrage him even more. He saw everything in red. Elijah was thrown to the ground and Joel punched him repeatedly in the face, teeth, and blood flying to the ground, until he was silenced forever.

Slowly, you sat up, wincing under the pain. The sound of you getting up took Joel out of his violent fit, well, you thought so.

“You fucking careless girl… I said not to fucking go alone.”

He took the battery in one arm, before grabbing you with his hand to force you to get up completely. You bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming in pain.

“I don’t fucking need you Miller.” You spat at his face, before painfully trying to get away from him.

“Well, now since you put us in deep shit, you’re stuck with me. And we have to leave. Far. Before they find us. Can you run?”

“No.”

“Well, you’ll have to try, because I sure can’t carry you with this battery. And we’ll need it to get as far away as possible.”

You nodded and followed him in the dark alleyways to try and outwit the men that would try to follow you as they were alerted with the noise. A few of them did try, yes, but luckily, Joel shot them first as you painfully tried to stick to the older man’s side.

***

You didn’t have a hard time to get out of the QZ, you two had your ways around it. The car battery miraculously worked and you silently jumped to the passenger side, grateful to finally be able to sit down, even though it sent pain down your whole body.

Joel was driving in his silent rage. You took the time to look at him, he had a few cuts on his face and hands, but he was mostly okay.

You, on the other hand… You got scared by your own reflection in the car mirror. You looked like someone had tried to paint parts of your face in blue and purple, but the painting wasn’t pretty, it was grotesque and sad.

“I’m sor-” You tried to articulate.

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear a fucking word from your mouth, girl.”

He didn’t have to be so disrespectful. Filled by your hate, you stuck your knife in the old car leather seat, near his face. He barely flinched, knuckles turning white as they were holding the wheel.

“Fuck you, Miller.” You said as you spat blood out of the window.

And that was the last sentence you addressed to him in a while.

The car eventually stopped at a spot that was deemed safe. It looked like an old car dump. Surely, you’d be invisible here. You tried to sleep in the passenger seat to recover slowly, while Joel was trying to find water and a small rabbit to eat.

He opened the door when he was back. You lost the track of time, but he seemed successful. A fire was already started. He helped you sit near the warmth source. He fed you cooked pieces of meat, slowly and patiently. Even though you could tell he was tired from his chocolate eyes. Even though he could tell you wanted to bite his fingers off.

“He tried to force me…” You finally said, before choking on a sob, letting go of your anger for Joel.

He didn’t say anything and took a piece of cloth out of his backpack, before wetting it with the water that was turning lukewarm. He cleaned your face and you leaned into the older man’s touch, like a cat starved for more pets.

“I don’t want to do that again, Joel. I… there must be another way, right?”

He nodded silently. He was still visibly mad.

“Can I see the damage on your legs to clean your wounds?”

You let him help you take down your pants, discovering a new grotesque and bloody painting. He kept cleaning your wounds silently, and in this moment, you were thankful for him. You put up your jeans when he was done and took a clean piece of the rag to wash the cuts on his face. Your lips placed a kiss on the wound over his bushy eyebrow, collecting a bit of blood there. You licked your lips to feel the pain he was in. He took your hands in his to stop you.

“You should sleep in the car to be more comfortable.” He simply said coolly. “I’ll keep watch.”

Without another word, your disappeared into the backseat of the car with a blanket you had found in one of the vehicles that was dumped here. You fell in a mostly comfortable sleep.

The door opened, and you heard it like you were still in your dreams. A warm body pressed to yours, arms flexing to lift you up to his mouth. You opened your eyes with Joel’s chapped lips still on yours and you leaned into the kiss. You both tasted like remains of blood and meat, but you didn’t care. The kiss stopped only when he held you down by the throat, carefully, barely pressing.

“For the record, I’m still mad at you.”

You nodded with a grin and put your small fingers around his wrist, pressing against his rough skin.

“And I don’t want you to fuck with another man, ever. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll take care of you. If another man tries to touch you, he will end up dead like all of those idiots.”

You nodded again, too numb to talk.

“And I’ll take care of the deals.”

You slapped his hand so he would leave your throat, and he did.

“Nope. You’ll come with me, that’s all.” You argued.

“But-”

“Didn’t know you were such a talker, Miller. I preferred when you would shut the fuck up or just use your mouth to insult me.”

He groaned, before adding: “I’ll think about it.”

“It’s the only way I’ll keep working with you, and you need me. I’m a great distraction.”

“That, you are.” You finally saw him smile.

You left him more space and he sat down beside you, before you slowly straightened up. You found lazily your way to his lap, thighs on each side of his legs. You felt pain everywhere, but you needed to be close to him. His rough hand stroked slowly your cheek while he looked up at you with a hardened gaze.

“Tell me you won’t be with another man.” His voice was stern.

“Can’t promise…” You responded with a shit-eating grin.

His free hand undid your pants and dragged them down to your thighs with your panties, before he slapped your ass harshly. You let out a cry of pain, body falling onto his, before the hand that was stroking your face held your hair. He pulled on your strands to make you look at his face. You hated how this scary side of him turned you on, but your relationship always had been like this.

“Tell. Me.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t what?” He pulled more on your hair.

“Be with another man. I promise. Don’t need anyone else.” Ironic for someone who had told him earlier you didn’t need him.

He finally let go and you could catch your breath again. In your heart, you knew that you were sincere. But softness would wait. Fingers slowly traced your slit as you felt warmth traveling down your body. You fell on him again, too weak to hold yourself up. This time, he accepted it and held you with his other hand as he placed soft kisses on your forehead, the only part of your face that wasn’t bruised. You didn’t know why he still wanted you in that terrible state, but you were thankful for the distraction from the pain.

“I’ll make you cum once. And I want you to ride my thigh. Understood?”

“Talk less.” You simply said with a grin.

One of his fingers found its way to your clit, which he teased too softly. You pressed your hips into his touch, aching for more. He understood, picking up the pace as two other fingers took care of your entrance. He filled you up like this, while his finger was flicking over your sensitive ball of nerves. You Kept moving your hips as you felt your release coming. His free hand slapped your ass a few times, the pain bringing you faster to your edge. You came with a soft moan, his name glued to your lips. His wet fingers came up to your lips and you happily sucked them in your mouth, before biting them. He let go of your mouth, before he lazily took off completely the bottom half of your clothes.

He positioned you over his clothed thigh, where you left a small trail of your juices. With a hand on the small of your back, he helped you move against his leg, the friction stimulating your body again. Your own thigh was pressing into his bulge, pleasuring him with each movement against his thigh. You both looked like desperate teenagers trying to get it on in your first car while your parents thought you had gone to the cinema.

“Hm… not enough, Joel…” You moaned softly against his ear as you grinded on his thigh. “Want you to fill me up. Please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. ” He admitted, brown eyes filled with more concern than lust.

“I don’t care about pain. This pain is better… than the rest. You’re the only man that I’ll let hurt me. Please.”

“Okay.” He responded in a breath, your words going straight to his erection. His experienced hands undid his belt, and he took his member out, leaving the rest of him completely clothed. You both were too desperate to take more time.

He spat on his hand to wet you more, before sliding you down his cock. You breathed harshly. Your whole body hurt, but you were hoping that the pleasure would wash away the pain. You didn’t have to move anymore, he held you down as he fucked into you harshly, his hips coming up and down as he pleasured himself with your body. You buried your face into the older man’s neck, sucking on his skin to hide your moans. He let you hide, too concentrated on his own pleasure.

After a while, he slowed down a bit. He was tired and his stamina was running out, his age catching up to him.

“Tired, old man?” You asked, amused.

“Killing… people… does… that… to you.” He responded between thrusts.

Your teasing gave him the strength necessary to fuck you harshly. You hid your moans against his mouth, biting his bottom lip and licking into his mouth as he was approaching his end. He pulled out and cum spilled between you two, marking your thighs. He washed you two up with an old rag and let you fall back into the backseat.

“Joel… I was… I was sincere. Were you?”

“I was.”

“Good. And for the record, I’m… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“I forgive you.”

He massaged softly your sore legs under the blanket as you drifted back to sleep.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x yn #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal x yn #pedro pascal x reader

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venomous-qwille · 3 months

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hi qwille!!! I got questions for u! you have lots of characters planned out, and that’s super cool! but how do u usually go about that process? like all your characters are very unique, and I wonder about the design process, as well as how you make their personality distinct! how do you make character dynamics/relationships? because all the scenes I’ve read so far make the characters feel really organic, and mesh really well together! (sorry for all the questions! I’m super curious ^w^)

Hiya! Here is an answer I wrote for this question on discord recently ^^

I will try answer this as thoroughly as possible!

There was a LOT of kill your darlings involved in making characters for gitm. Originally I had a very long list of character ideas that I cut down and down based on the kind of things and themes they would give me the opportunity to write about. I love long ensemble cast stories, thinking back to ones I particularly enjoyed and the ways those characters gelled together helped me a lot. The most important thing when selecting characters was making sure they would give me something interesting to write about! I was also very keen on ones that let me explore the fics main theme of Family from a different angle. I'm not sure how helpful this all is! But yeah, I try to be pretty strict with myself about what I include. The only reason I would include two characters who were very very similar would be to emphasize a difference/divergence between them later on. Characters have to justify themselves by bringing something unique to the table, even if that thing is just a 'very different outlook on life' to the rest of the cast. Over time a lot of those character ideas became more fleshed out in my brain, and characters that were cut from the original shortlist made their way back in. They still have to be able to narratively justify themselves in order to earn a channel in the discord though!

For the gitm guys, while I dont have a literal sheet I fill out I do make sure to answer a couple of basic character work questions: What lie do they believe about themselves/the world? How does it impact the way they interact with others? What central theme do they embody most? What do they want more than anything else? How do they feel about humans? Who are they at their best and who are they at their worst? I found that by answering these sort of questions it helped me discover more about them, which creates more questions- rinse and repeat. The more questions I answered the further away they would get from each other in terms of similarities. The thing that really helped with the gitm boys, especially because their origins are so similar, was leaning in to how different their experiences were post-fazco. They are different people because the world has made them that way. Messing around with foils has been useful too! Characters are no fun in a vacuum, it's how they interact with others that makes them interesting. I like to create ones that will bring out the best and the worst in each other. I think about opposites a lot and I really like narrative symmetry- what lessons can the characters learn from each other? I find that stuff super exciting to read so I really wanted to include it. Some examples of character foils in gitm: Fool & Noon, Sombra & Sunspot, Misuta & Sol

When it comes to finding character voice, I do a lot of test drabbles (a couple of them are on this server), which I use to just fuck around until I find something that feels right. For instance- Sol was very very easy to find the voice of, where as Misuta took weeks of rewrites. Sometimes things take time. Spending this time figuring out their voices at the start really helps fic consistence in the long run, I think. Because of all that prep, I don't really have to do anything to 'get into character' when writing their dialogue (it's fairly second nature now).

In regards to coming up with a character's arc, I look at them and their themes and ask 'what the fuck happened to you, dude?' and then 'how has that entrenched a faulty world view on you?' 'what could you be driven to do because of that world view/misunderstanding?' 'what would it take to fix this world view/misunderstanding?' (the last question is the most important one!). Then voila, you have a very loose framework of a (hopepunk) character arc.

In regards to the actual planning of the fic/character arcs, I have a very big miro board (pic attached) that I use for all this! Most of the major character beats are marked out separately to plot beats etc etc. There are still a bunch of bits that only reside in my brain, but I do try to add them to my plan as soon as they become any kind of concrete. All of the characters also have a background chapter (or rather, a series of chapters that form a short story) attached to their arc, that will recontextualise everything you have learned about them so far! I am so deeply looking forward to dropping these (I already have quite a lot written).

I would say that- for your question on character relationships- the answer does come down to being really specific about what you include. Make sure characters are meaningfully different from eachother, give them goals and experiences that clash and then force them to live/work together in the same space. If you have put time into building your characters before that, then you just need to create opportunities for them to get into conflict and bring out the best/worst in eachother. I really do believe that characters are quite boring in a vacuum- which is why I put so much emphasis on including narrative foils ^^ Tyvm for the ask <3

#gitm au #ghost in the machine au #ghost in the machine #asks answered #fnaf dca #qwillewrites #qwillechatter

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praisethesuuun · 8 months

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If you are still doing requests for record of Ragnarok??

If so can I please have a deaf/ hard of hearing reader. Doesn't have to be romantic. Everything in life is like an misinterpreted lyrics video 😂

•adam (paternally)

•zerofuku

•buddha

(as a certified dead person I don't mind communicating about any questions you have)

I really hope I did it good, dear��☀️my father also has problems hearing, so I tried to base myself with my experienced with him too

RoR characters headcanons: them with a deaf!reader

ADAM

🍃Adam's sixth father sense is always active when you are with him. He is always attentive whenever you need something, ALWAYS; and tries his best to make your life easier.

🍃Speaks very slowly when you are together, enunciating the words well and letting you see the way his mouth pronounces each single letter. He's sure you won't miss anything, so he's all over you if he sees you struggling.

🍃Adam doesn't hesitate to pick on anyone who makes fun of you or tries to pick a fight, using the excuse of deafness to insult you. He immediately takes your defense, but does not start a fight in front of you, in fact Abel has the task of covering your eyes.

🍃Together with Adam, Cain and Abel will do their best to learn how to interact with you, always inventing a different and fun way to not make your situation weigh too much. Even if, in the end, it will always be Eve who consoles you and tries harder...what a proud mother she is!

ZEROFUKU

🍀Probably, Zerofuku met you during one of his many journeys on earth, remaining intrigued by your condition given the way in which you interacted differently with those around you. Initially, he thought you were being rude, since you didn't respond when he tried to get your attention from a distance.

🍀Every time he starts talking quickly and enthusiastically about his days, Zerofuku gets lost in his little fantasy world, only stopping when he sees your thoughtful face and your half-closed eyes peering into his soul. Then he realizes his mistake, apologizing profusely and realizing that, of his speech, you understood only a few words.

🍀But for him it is not a problem! The God of Fortune starts over again, looking at you all the time and speaking loud and clear, enunciating the words! Don't worry, he would spend hours talking to you and never loses his temper.

🍀He always tries to save you from embarrassing situations, and if he sees that someone misunderstands your intentions or your behavior, Zerofuku explains your condition to them, hoping to do good.

BUDDHA

🍬"Oh, you're ignoring me? You do what you want, I respect that"

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Yeah, just like that...cool. I like your attitude"

🍬You two become friends and you have no clue how it happened, it will always remain a mystery to you. The only thing you know is that, one day, he liked you, and now you have to get along with it. Expect lots of jokes from him: Buddha may move his mouth in front of you, not uttering a sound and inventing non-existent words, and then burst out laughing at your confused and complex face.

🍬Expect to get in some trouble with him. If he sees that someone wants to get your attention, but you ignore him because you just don't hear him, Buddha will start making up the weirdest stories to justify your lack of reaction. He would approach the person in question, saying that you are a princess and that you have no time to waste with them, or he makes up that you are his girlfriend and that they should let it go. But the Enlightened lets no one dare to get angry with you, Buddha becomes your personal protector.

🍬If he sees you're having trouble with too high a decibel sound, Buddha immediately whisks you away from that seat, plugging your ears and making sure you're okay. He gives you a candy and then pats your head, the important thing is that you are fine now.

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herofics · 3 months

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A day worth waiting for

A/N: I really felt like writing some angst with Gojo. Also, I’m feeling kinda shitty, so I needed something to cope with it. I’m not suicidal specifically, but it keeps kinda flashing in my mind as a “you could do that though” if that makes sense. I started writing this like 3 months ago, but I didn’t finish it then, so I’m writing it now

Warnings: Self-harm, blood and suicide attempt-ish

You were just laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. You had no clue how long you’d been laying there. It might have been minutes, or it might have been hours, you had no idea.

You didn’t feel anything, you were just numb, maybe not even numb, every emotion just felt the same. It was like all the colors were gone.

You stretched your hand towards the ceiling. You were wearing a t-shirt, so you could clearly see the scars that covered your wrist. There were no fresh ones, hadn’t been in a while, but the urge was still there, the urge to rip your skin open and let your life bleed out of you.

And why wouldn’t you? There wasn’t anything here for you. Gojo would be fine without you, he was the strongest, after all. He would probably even be better off.

“It’s decided then” you muttered while getting up from the floor.

You tried writing a note, and even though the idea of ending your life made so much sense in your head, you couldn’t figure out a way to explain it on paper. The only words you managed to put down were “Forgive me, Satoru. I hope you don’t curse me too much”. A few tears fell on the paper, smudging the ink.

You went to draw yourself a warm bath, before rummaging through the drawers under the sink to find a razor blade. You threw off your sweatpants and climbed into the tub in your underwear and a big t-shirt.

You exhaled deeply, before looking up at the ceiling. Were you really going to do this? Were you ready to leave yet?

That’s when you heard the bathroom door open. You quickly submerged the razor blade and hid it under your thigh before Gojo saw it. You managed to cut yourself in the process. How did you not hear him come into the apartment?

“Whatcha doing in the tub with your clothes on?” he smirked from the doorway, not yet putting the situation together.

He was just standing there, looking like his normal dashing self. He took off his blindfold, like he always did when he came home to you.

“I fell in” you lied.

Gojo took a step closer, chuckling, about to say something, when he noticed the blood in the water. The smile died on his lips as he realized what was going on. He knelt down next to the tub and grabbed both your hands, checking your wrists.

He sighed in relief as he realized you hadn’t done anything yet. Then where was the blood coming from?

You saw the panicked look in his eyes as he still held your hands in his while looking for the source of the blood.

“I nicked myself-myself when trying to hide the razor blade” you hiccuped, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Oh doll” Gojo said softly, before pulling you up with him as he stood up.

He took your shirt off you and grabbed a big, fluffy towel, wrapping it around you.

“I need you to talk to me, and I think you need that too” Gojo said as he stood in front of you.

There was something different about the way he looked at you. Anger you would have recognized, but this wasn’t it. Fear? Was it really fear you saw in his eyes?

“Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look kind of scared” you noted.

“First of all, I think I should be asking you that. Secondly, I think my fear is pretty justified when I find the person I love sitting in a bathtub filled with water, ready to open their wrists”

“Well that sounds a bit gruesome” you muttered.

“Am I wrong?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side.

There was a moment of silence between you, before you spoke a simple, quiet: “No”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Once you said it out loud, admitted what you were going to do, it was like a dam broke. You just started sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s okay doll, it’s okay” Gojo assured as he picked you up and carried you out of the bathroom.

You were still wrapped in the towel and holding onto Gojo’s jacket for dear life. You didn’t even remember what had originally gotten you so upset that you would resort to what you had attempted to do.

Gojo had been through this with you before. The last time this happened, it was with you trying to overdose on your medication. It was one of the few times in his life he had been absolutely terrified. Seeing you laying there unconscious, with an empty pill bottle next to you, had been one of the most horrific moments of his entire life.

Now it was happening all over again, but this time he had been on time. This time he had gotten to you before you’d done anything stupid, this time he’d managed it. After Suguru left, Gojo had sworn he wouldn’t lose anyone else like that. He wouldn’t let anyone else disappear into the shadows again.

Gojo sat down on the bed, still holding you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-so sorry” you kept blubbering while burying your face to his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay” Gojo said, grabbing your hand and attempting to ground you through his touch. “Just breathe”

After your breathing and crying calmed down, you looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened” you muttered, trying to get up from his lap.

“Nu-uh, you’re not going anywhere till we talk” he pulled you back.

“What am I even supposed to say?”

“Just something, I don’t want you to be alone with this. You know I won’t leave you alone before I get a satisfactory explanation” he half joked.

Gojo just wanted to hear you say that you’d be okay. He just wanted to hear you say this was just a fluke, and it wouldn’t happen again. At the same time, he knew you couldn’t promise that. That you wouldn’t just magically start getting better, because you or he wanted you to.

“I don’t know what happened. It just seemed like the right choice, but the second I saw you, I was like “What the fuck am I doing?” and it didn’t feel like it made any sense anymore”

You kept staring at your hands while leaning the side of your head against his chest. What you said was true. Seeing him had made you change your mind in the end. You could have tried to reach for the razor again, even though it would have been futile with him in the same room. He would have stopped you, no doubt about that, and besides you didn’t want him to see you do that to yourself. The act itself was way different from just seeing the aftermath.

“Well I’m glad I have that effect on you, but that doesn’t really give me much insight to your mental state right now”

“I guess it doesn’t, but I don’t really know what else to tell you” you sighed.

You just sat there in silence, Gojo embracing you and you leaning against his chest. You didn’t know what to tell him. Even if you managed to formulate something that would make sense to you, it would probably just sound crazy to him. It was so hard to put any of it into words, let alone in a way someone else would understand.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but I just want you to know that no matter what you think, I’m not better off without you, and neither is anyone else you know” Gojo said suddenly.

“Thank you” you said after a while more of silence, looking up at him.

“What for?” he asked as he met your gaze.

“I guess I just appreciate the reminder at times like these”

“I’ll remind you for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me” he smiled softly.

You placed a hand on the side of Gojo’s face and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“I’d like that”

Maybe one day you’d love life as much as you loved him, maybe that day was worth waiting for.

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makeyoumine69 · 6 months

Text

Call Me Babydoll 4

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Anything that seems too good to be true probably isn't. After a dinner with Patrick that didn't go well, you realized that your relationship with him is more complicated than you initially thought.

CONTAINS: Angst, mentions of food, cursing and use of pet names (babydoll), smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & mild bulling.

WORDS: 4.1k

A/N: This chapter is a bit long, but I hope you enjoy it!💕

LINKS: [Ch.3]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

God, you couldn't imagine a worse situation than this — being stuck in the limo with Patrick Bateman after he discovered your little secret about your virginity. Panicking from the lack of oxygen, you looked down at his deadly grip on your wrist, your brain overloaded with thoughts of a possible escape route.

"Patrick, I should go," you tried to release his grip when you noticed that the car had stopped, but he kept holding you tight. "My Dad is waiting for me!"

"Your father can wait a little longer," he demanded, pulling you a little closer, forcing you to raise your shy eyes to him. "Tomorrow we'll have dinner and talk about...this whole thing."

From the raspy sound of his voice, it was obvious that Bateman was doing his best to save what was left of his self-control, his skin burning yours with its heat.

"And what if I say 'no'?" You snapped at his cheeky way of speaking.

With a soft chuckle, he let go of your wrist and grinned as he saw you rubbing the spot where he was holding you a moment ago. "You don't want to upset your Dad, do you?" When Patrick met your confused gaze, the corners of his lips turned up. "I mean, the last thing you want is for your dear father to find out about all the nasty things you did…with me."

Your nostrils flared with anger, but you tried to play it cool. "What? Are you really trying to blackmail me?"

"No," Bateman grinned at your irritated stare. "Just a little reminder not to try to play games with me. It's pointless anyway."

Uh yeah, sure. We'll see who laughs last.

Saying nothing in return, you looked at him one last time before opening the car door and getting out.

"I'll pick you up at six. Wear something nice...something that hides your tattoos." Patrick ordered through the half-open window, the wide, smug smile never leaving his face.

The urge to turn around and show him your middle finger was so damn high, but as you faced the facade of your house, the memories of your father occupied your mind and stopped you at the very last moment.

"I don't have any of those clothes you're talking about," you simply replied, spinning around and crossing your hands over your chest. "Because I—"

"That's not a problem, babydoll. We can buy you some fabulous dresses or skirts," his brown eyes traveled over your body like a scanner, making you feel completely naked, you even shrugged off the shiver. "By the way, does your father forbid you to wear skirts or dresses because he knows someone would kidnap you? You have such pretty legs."

You closed your eyes and counted to ten to calm yourself. "I love my jeans, and pants are just much more comfortable for me!" Your voice trembled with embarrassment and anger. "If all the girls around you look like sluts in their skimpy dresses, that doesn't mean I have to! Jesus, why am I even trying to justify myself?!"

Your little tantrum only made him chuckle in pure satisfaction. "I have no idea why, but I like it," his arrogant smirk made you sick. After checking his Rolex nonchalantly, Bateman added, "See you tomorrow, (y/n). And tell your father that my old man has approved those investments we talked about a week ago."

Wait, what?

Now it was your turn to try to stop him, but just as the last word fell from his lips, the limo pulled away, leaving you with an unspoken question stuck in your throat like a lump.

The air of your house greeted you with a sharp smell of smoke, signaling that your father was home and not in a good mood — he had taken up smoking since your mother died, and now you knew pretty well that when he was feeling down only a cigarette could bring him some relief.

Walking slowly through the halls of your not-so-luxurious but spacious house, you found your Dad sitting in the living room with a glass of his favorite whiskey and a pack of cigarettes that he twirled nervously in his hand.

"Hey, Dad," you called out quietly, halting in the doorway — the strange pangs of guilty causing your heart to pound painfully against your chest. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I didn't hear you coming," he turned to you, his wrinkled face lighting up the moment he saw your apprehensive expression. "I'm fine...just had a busy day," he put the cigarette in the ashtray and got up from his comfortable armchair. "How did you make it home?"

His sudden question caught you off guard, as your father didn't usually ask such things. Frowning, you stepped into the living room and looked at his tired face — he seemed to have aged even faster in the last few months, when his business had stopped being as profitable as it used to be.

"I'm fine, thanks," you carefully took a seat on the couch next to him, noticing that the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table was half empty. "Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, my dear," your father smiled at you and poured himself another glass of alcohol before sitting back down in his armchair. "What is it?"

"Did you really ask Pat—" you stammered and coughed a little. "I mean, did you really ask Mr. Bateman to pick me up after work?"

Right after you asked, you tried to catch a glimpse of your father's reaction, to notice any strange expressions or anything that might discredit him, but to your surprise, your father just gave you a sympathetic grin, sipping his drink and looking at you adoringly.

"Maybe I did..." he tilted his head thoughtfully. "...or maybe I didn't. Forgive me for my bad memory, it gets worse every day."

Sighing, you couldn't help but smile at his words, as your father was always the one who could warm your heart just by saying a few simple words.

"All right, all right," you paused, rubbing your tense temples. "He asked me to inform you that the investments you discussed some time ago have been approved and..." as you noticed your father's face changing so quickly, you had to pause for a second. "...is it something important?"

Your father took a quick drag on a cigarette, blowing a few rings of smoke to the side to keep them away from you. "Did he really say that?"

"Yes," you fidgeted nervously in your seat, seeing your Dad's reaction. "Yes, he did."

"That's...that's one of the best pieces of news I've had in a long time," your father stood up again, looking for something. "I need to make a call..."

Nodding, you decided that now was not the best time to ask more questions, so you just decided to leave and go to your room, but as soon as you strolled away, you heard your father's enthusiastic voice again:

"(Y/n), wait," he stopped beside you, holding a phone in his slightly shaking hand. "I know I've always been too strict when it comes to you, but I've always tried to give you as much love and care as I could...since your mother..." His words cut right through your heart, and you even had to grit your teeth from the itchy tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Father, please...let's not talk about it." You interrupted him, not wanting to open up your old wounds.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you that...Patrick Bateman seems like a good man," you almost lost your sense of orientation in this room at his sudden statement. "I haven't allowed you to hang out with boys much, but you can get to know him better since he's been asking about you a lot."

Fuck, you couldn’t believe it.

First, Bateman had his eyes on you. Then he tried to seduce you, break you and make you forget your morals, and he fucking succeeded, because in the end Patrick managed to get his hands on you, and now his farther suddenly approved the budget for your Dad's business. Was this just a coincidence or another way to manipulate you?

"Well, you tried to protect me from...everything and everyone, I can't judge you..." you murmured as you reached the door. "You always want the best for me, so... I promise I'll think about it."

With that, you closed the door behind you, leaving your father alone in the living room. A wild cocktail of emotions swirled in your chest, as if you had drunk something extremely hot — you wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream. How on Earth did that happen? That your own father was directly encouraging you to get close with Patrick Bateman? Was that someone's bad joke?

As soon as you got to your room, you opened the closet, looking for some "fabulous" dress Patrick wanted you to wear.

"Fucking narcissistic idiot," you cursed aloud as you flipped through your clothes, getting more and more annoyed by the second. "Why do I even care what he thinks about my appearance?"

You exhaled tiredly and hid your face in your hands, feeling the strong shudder in every inch of your fragile frame. This man, damn it, this man was a devil himself, and your father just called him 'a good guy'.

Unbelievable.

"All right, I have to pull myself together." You moved quickly to the mirror, breathing steadily and rubbing your cheeks. "I'll do it for Dad, I'll figure it all out."

Winking at your reflection, you returned to your search for a suitable dress, not realizing that it was getting late.

The next day started with a heavy rain which woke you up with its sound, so loud that you couldn't fall asleep again. So, you decided to get up earlier and write a bit before your work.

Your father was already gone when you got downstairs — the memories of your earlier conversation were still running through your mind, leaving a bitter aftertaste. As you made yourself a cup of coffee with your favorite organic milk, you couldn't stop thinking about what might happen tonight — the unknown made you feel a little nauseous, but the breathing exercises your mother taught you always helped you in such moments. Uh, what would your mom say to you if she were here, if she knew the situation you were in?

Would Patrick be able to enchant her so easily?

The workday went by so quickly that you didn't even realize you were rushing back home in the taxi. During the ride, you tried to distract yourself with your poems, some of which you had written during the break at the café where you had been with Patrick the day before. After many attempts, you noticed that whenever you tried to describe the feelings Patrick evoked in you, it seemed as if your mind was losing touch with reality. The pen he gifted you was burning your skin as if it were some cursed relic, but yet this phantom pain was something you probably missed in your life, it didn't feel like grief or sorrow — it was something completely new.

Even though you were not a huge fan of Manhattan, you couldn't deny the fact that it looked absolutely breathtaking at night, with all its lights, mesmerizing atmosphere, and soaring skyscrapers that made your head spin whenever you looked at them.

There was no doubt that the restaurant Bateman was taking you to would be exquisite and luxurious, so when you entered the establishment, you were not surprised that most people were paying attention to your persona, as you had no jewels, no beaded clutch — just your modest but tight black dress, which was one of your shortest. The maître d' escorted you to your table, and from that moment on, the game began between you and Mr. Bateman, although your conversation didn't flow at first.

"So, do you like this place?" Patrick asked a little indifferently after swirling his drink — J&B Whiskey, that seemed to be his favorite.

"Mmm, yeah, it's pretty good." You replied, avoiding his gaze and staring at the napkin on the table that you were nervously crumpling.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Pretty good?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Uh," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose briefly. "Do you even know what this place is?"

Finally, you left a poor napkin alone and looked up at him. "This is Dorsia, right? I saw a sign outside."

For a moment his face remained blank, but the next moment a deep, prominent line appeared between his knitted brows.

"Yeah, this is fucking Dorsia," he spat out his words and took a sip of his whiskey. "Nothing special."

Actually, his suddenly confronting tone was embarrassing. "Well...I'm not a frequent guest in these chic restaurants. Come on, you know that."

Unfortunately for you, your voice sounded more sad than irritated, and Bateman didn't miss it. His warm palm touched yours gently, but he didn't dare to look at you.

"Huh," he mused, drawing an invisible line across the back of your hand with his soft fingertip. "It's pretty hard to impress a girl like you, since you just don't understand—"

"The taste of luxurious life?" You cut him off, causing him to raise his brown walnut eyes to your face. They looked so mysterious in the dim light of the restaurant hall.

Patrick pulled his hand away as if struck by the electric shock, clenching his jaw in tension, and this sight was something you never thought you would have to witness.

In a few minutes of awkward silence, the waiter brought your food, and since you refused to take any alcohol, you asked him to give you a dessert menu — maybe something sweet would cheer you up and help you get through this strange dinner that was hard to identify as a date or whatever it might be.

"We have amazing cheesecakes, good choice." The waiter replied as you handed the menu back to him.

"Thank you," you made yourself comfortable in your seat and gave Patrick a warm smile, which left him a bit confused. "I need something to compare with the desserts I've had in my favorite café."

Although you hadn't intended it to be a joke, you weren't irritated at all when you heard his soft chuckle for the first time during dinner. "Just don't tell anyone about this," he crossed his arms and looked at you with a mischievous grin. "I don't want the local chefs to end their lives."

"Oh, God," you laughed, looking at his drink. "Why do you all have to drink whiskey? My Dad can't work without a bottle of his favorite drink next to him," as soon as Bateman heard about your Dad, he straightened up in his seat and fixed his Rolex. "Speaking of him...can I ask you a question?"

"You can try, babydoll." Bateman sneered in a mischievous voice and looked around quickly as if he noticed someone familiar.

"I want to know about the investments—"

"Hey, Halberstram!" An unknown male voice echoed from behind you, shamelessly interrupting your conversation. "Haven't seen you for a while, how have you been?"

A handsome man with light brown hair — wearing a stylish suit that was one hundred percent overpriced — came closer to your table and offered Patrick a handshake, which he accepted, but you couldn't help but notice a glint of anger in his hazel eyes.

"Allen," Bateman shook his hand and then quickly glanced at a woman next to him. "I didn't expect to see you here, I heard you were on vacation in Paris."

"Well, Meredith didn't really like it, so we decided to come back a little earlier," Paul replied, pulling a beautiful blonde girl closer to him. "I thought Halloween was over." Allen chuckled and pointed at you, making you palpably uncomfortable. "Nice manicure, so gothic."

Frowning, you checked your black manicured nails and then looked up at him, suppressing your inner battle to tell him to fuck off. "Thanks." You replied coldly and noticed Patrick clenching his fists in tension.

"And where's Veronica, Marcus? That big-titted chick you were hanging out with at the last yacht party?" Allen asked, continuing to stare at you with undisguised interest.

What the hell was going on? Why did he call him Marcus?

"Veronica?" Bateman interjected, pretending to try to remember. "She's probably with her family in South Hampton."

"Oh, and who is this punk girl?" Paul's question made your nails claw at the soft skin of your knee.

Patrick closed his eyes for a second, definitely trying to find the best answer. It was obvious that a man like him didn't want to ruin his reputation, since you were not a person from his circle. This seemed to be a dead end until an unexpected idea came to your mind.

"I'm a journalist," you explained in a confident voice. "And I'm interviewing...Mr. Halberstram because I'm writing a book about Wall Street."

"Wow," Paul seemed to be surprised. "That's...pretty impressive."

"Yeah," Bateman cleared his throat and unclenched his fists. "She's one of the best journalists in New York, and she wants to write a book, too."

Oh my God, please shut up!

"It's pretty impressive that you were allowed to come here," Meredith suddenly blurted out, giving you a disgusted look. "There's a dress code, you know?"

"I'll leave you for a while, since you have things to discuss." You fumed and got up from the table — Patrick didn't even try to stop you.

In a few minutes, you found your way to the outdoor terrace on the upper level. As you stepped in, you noticed another blonde woman — she looked gorgeous, with her elegant, red-manicured fingers wrapped around the burning cigarette.

"Um, excuse me," you approached her from behind. "Could you pass me a cigarette, please?"

As soon as she turned around, you could see her sad blue eyes, cold as ice. "Sure."

Carefully, she reached into her black clutch to find a pack of cigarettes and offered you one.

"Thank you." You smiled after she lit your cigarette.

"No problem," she grinned back, looking away to see the lights of New York city. "It's so beautiful here, isn't it? I wish he could be with me right now."

Her question left you speechless, because you didn't know how to react, but just as you were about to say something, you heard the door open and the unknown man with the red hair joined you on the terrace.

"Courtney, you're here. I was looking for you," he chirped with an affectionate intonation. "The cocktails are ready."

Unlike the guy, the woman — that apparently was named Courtney — didn't seem happy, you would even say she was getting sadder — her previous words puzzled you, because now it was obvious she was talking about someone else.

With the last puff of smoke, Courtney took a quick glance at the night city and turned to you. "Take care."

Even a few moments after they left, you could still feel the wisp of sharp sadness in the air. Shivering with cold, you came closer to the railing, looked down and smoked, the signals of passing cars distracting you a bit from your train of thought — that fucking snobbish bitch and her supposed boyfriend pissed you off completely and you didn't really want to come back. Her behavior reminded you of why you hated yuppies, Wall Street, money, luxury. You hated it all, while your father tried his best to give you such a life so you could turn into a heartless ghost with no emotions except greed and...disgust?

A sudden touch of soft, warm fabric made you almost flinch. "Are you trying to catch a cold?" A familiar voice asked, and a jacket was wrapped around your trembling shoulders.

No way that could be him. "Patrick?"

The next moment, the owner of the familiar voice — which was indeed Patrick — deftly snatched the cigarette out of your mouth, eliciting an irritated groan from your chest. "You don't need this, believe me."

As you turned around, you watched him puff on your cigarette, but when he blew out a few rings, his face cringed in disgust. "Jesus, this is some girlish shit." Patrick ranted and quickly put out the cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" You crossed your arms in a defensive gesture and stepped away from him.

Patrick chuckled softly, your eyes accidentally glancing around his broad chest and the fashionable suspenders that looked so good on him.

"You could have just told me that you wanted to suffer alone on the terrace like a crybaby. Then I wouldn't have had to look for you all over the fucking restaurant." His voice became slightly stern as a sign of the high level of irritation — his patience seemed about to snap.

"I didn't ask you to come after me," you retorted, but didn't take off his jacket because it was so warm and nice. "Besides, what the hell was that? Why did that guy call you Marcus? Is that your real name? God, maybe you're a fucking scammer trying to deceive my father?"

His loud laugh echoed in the fresh air, Bateman couldn't help but applaud because your theory was fantastic. "That...that was hilarious, babydoll," he theatrically wiped away a few tears and came closer. "We stopped at your question about your father, as I recall."

"You know what?" you suddenly charged at him, almost bumping into his solid torso. "You should have hired several hookers instead of taking me to this useless dinner. At least it would have been a lot cheaper!"

"What?" He asked, still giggling as if you had told him another joke.

"My father has been waiting almost a year for some extra funding," you started, shortening the distance between you to a mere inches. "And just like in fairy tales, the necessary investments were approved as soon as you got your hands on me. What a great coincidence, don't you think?"

Patrick hummed to himself, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Go on."

"You won't get it," your voice wavered, as if your nature refused to utter the words. "I know that rich guys like you can buy anything and everything — houses, cars, yachts, corporations, girls..." the more you spoke, the darker Bateman's eyes became. "Girls of all body types, ages, virgins or not, and so on. But for me — money is nothing, and I won't do it even for my father".

"You're done?" Patrick asked, pressing a finger to his lips and looking at you with an unreadable expression. When you nodded, he took you by the chin and tilted your head to the side, his thumb brushing against your lower lip as if by accident. "Now, listen to me, babydoll. I invited you to dinner because I wanted to apologize...for the things that happened between us..." your heart skipped a beat at his last words and your legs went weak, but you stood still, looking straight into his dark hypnotizing eyes. "I must say, you're a really cute, sweet girl, pretty even," he smirked as you shivered from his finger sliding down your neck. "But I don't want to be a babysitter."

"W-what?" You gasped, your voice barely audible as your breath hitched from the hard lump in your throat.

"(Y/n), listen, your father's business can be profitable enough, that's the only reason my Dad and I decided to finance it," Bateman removed his hand and stepped aside. "The long wait was caused by bureaucratic processes and my old man being away on business all the time."

There were no words to explain the feelings you were experiencing — frustration, deception, embarrassment?

"I…I understand," you bit your lower lip to keep the tears from forming in your dejected eyes. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Just as you were about to take off his jacket, Patrick stopped you and after a small hug, he added: "Unfortunately, I don't like messing around with little girls because I'm pretty demanding when it comes to sex.” His arrogant grin was about to become the last straw of your self-control, but you kept fighting. "Let's go back to our table, your dessert must be waiting for you."

With a quick flick of your hand, you wiped away any traces of your tears when he didn't look at you. "I'm not hungry. Go, I'll join you soon."

Bateman gave you a worried look, then glanced at the railing and shook his head. "No, we'll come together, I'm responsible for you tonight and I don't want your father to be nervous."

How fucking cute.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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directdogman · 8 months

Note

Hey dogman, idk if you answered this

Who, out of both DSAF and Dialtown, was your favourite to write and/or create?

It's very hard for me to pick favourites with my characters because I don't tend to give characters a lot of screen-time unless I find a character interesting or fun to write. You've caught me in a talkative mood, so warning, there's an onslaught of text coming!

DSaF: Dave was the most fun to write for, as I remember it. I mean, the guy is the walking personification of chaos and even when he's being constructive (eg, rigging robots to do insane stuff), it's usually in a destructive capacity. Dave will do LITERALLY ANYTHING but contribute to society in meaningful/valuable ways.

In terms of what character-writing I was most 'proud' of, I was also pretty happy with Dr Henry Miller, as a villain. Namely the research he embarked on, described in his logs in DSaF 3 (which the fandom evidently agreed with, as I got really strong feedback on those logs.)

One issue a lot of people (including myself) have with canon William Afton is that he's this kind of mad scientist character but his research doesn't really seem to be... idk, going anywhere? Other than using remnant (soul nectar?) to make kids possess robots, it's kind of a mystery how he got to this point he did from running a bad fast food restaurant. William gets fleshed out motivations in TSE and even then, it mainly revolves around his relationship with Henry Emily, iirc. It's actually pretty accurate to how real serial killers think, imo, but there's a pretty wide berth between this kind of serial killer and becoming a sci-fi fast-food mad scientist... So, I decided to try to bridge that gap.

DSaF Henry's logs actually mention where the idea for his research came from, namely the fact that he existed in a world with normal scientific rules just like ours and seemingly discovered something supernatural, and he approaches it like an amoral scientist would - trying to figure out how to figure out more about the fabric of reality using the newly discovered phenomenon of possession. The 'joy of creation' phrase people pulled from Golden Freddy's phone call in FNaF 1 is given context - Henry is trying to find out what's on the other side (and eventually, how existence itself formed.)

There's other aspects to his character that make him more interesting too, like the implication that his research is partially an excuse for him to act on an underlying sadism (with scenes implying that he inflicts damage on others than can't be justified as assisting with his research.) His background as a dissident/quack laughing-stock scientist (thanks to pushing his soul theory in a best-selling book, which is considered pseudoscience) BEFORE he embarked on his journey to become a fast food tycoon also makes it less farfetch'd that he'd be capable of y'know, harvesting human souls intentionally to continue his research?

I had more for the character on paper that people haven't seen but some of it wasn't revealed due to it feeling a bit too disturbing to publish. None of the contents would've been all that controversial, more just too tonally disturbing when written about in detail (like a omitted part from his backstory/lore post where he managed to pick up a hazy audio of his wife + son's crying from the radio of the car his wife/son drowned in and reacted with genuine elation upon realizing he'd discovered a new scientific phenomenon (as this was the first time Henry witnessed soul-possession.)) Yeah.

I don't feel much of a need to revisit Henry as a character because as a series villain, he was pretty thoroughly-written and he did his job effectively... And his fate was well earned! (He even got an epilogue short-story a few years back, further cementing his fate!)

Dialtown: From the characters/writing that the fandom has seen? Tough to say. I genuinely really like every DT character. Gingi and Mayor Mingus are two of my favourite characters to write for because they're both really insistent and react to adversity in a really comically indignant way. Mingus is more like Gingi than she cares to admit in very specific ways, which is the core hypocrisy of her character - she's one of the most abnormal things IN Dialtown, and spends the game on a quest opposing abnormality that she, herself, can't stand.

Many absolute rulers have debilitating physical and/or mental cruxes and despite that, usually have the final say on what is/isn't okay, often guided by arbitrary preferences. It's funny to remember all of the ancient kings and emperors who dictated how others should act, talk and even think, when very many of them themselves were anything except a good reflection of their own subjects! It's an irony I quite enjoy and leads to a fun character to write for!

My favourite DT writing is probably some of my Callum Crown speech drafts. I have a definite bias here since Crown's character is based on many figures I've encountered in my own reading (and his story relates to topics I enjoy reading about.) A lot of that is real nerd shit that wouldn't be interesting to 99.9% of DT fans (like a long conversation where Crown + Milt discuss a campaign speech Milt wrote for Crown and they bicker about if the wording/arguments used are truly honest.) Again, not super relevant to Dialtown-proper, but it explains a lot about why the world of DT ended up the way it did.

Realistically, the story of Dialtown itself is basically a weird little epilogue to a story that ended decades upon decades ago, centered around a bunch of small-town nobodies circling around the carcass of the last surviving main character of the old story.

I'm also very happy with Gingi's character partially because I know more about Gingi's past/future than you guys do. Gingi has such rotten memory that Gingi's backstory before DT's story begins is basically a complete mystery. Thanks to Gingi never getting close enough to any humans before laying its eggs, there's nobody in Gingi's life that can fill in the gaps. Companionship means so much to Gingi because prior to meeting The Gang, Gingi is aware of a massive and unknown block of time that's a complete mystery precisely because Gingi had nobody in its life. To Gingi, this time was basically akin to being non-sentient or dead, and Gingi would never go back.

While I was making DSaF, I drafted a ton of other stories on paper. I considered making most of them, but decided not to for various reasons, despite getting some solid feedback from collaborators. Bits of almost all of those project ideas made it into DT, with Gingi having traits from several other main characters I prototyped years and years ago. This includes where Gingi came from and what exactly Gingi is. I don't want to mislead people into thinking Gingi is more important than it is, like Gingi is the key to unlocking DT lore (I promise there's a LOT of aimless scuttling/devouring in Gingi's past and relatively little else!) BUT: Of everything from those old scrapped projects, Gingi is what I decided deserved to survive the most. And that has to count for something.

One day I'd love to make sequels to DT and perhaps explore some of the stuff I've described above, like why the hell the world of DT is the way it is or maybe where the hell Gingi spawned from. Thanks

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hearts4hughes · 7 months

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i wish you would | trevor zegras

nora’s bday celly | trevor zegras x fem!reader

summary: three times you thought about contacting trevor after the breakup and the one time you did.

note: this barely follows the song, but i think it’s cute. this is the first time i’ve done one of these 3+1 type of things. also, i’m aware i said so it goes would be my next writing, but i cannot finish it for the life of me.

{ #1 }

in the quiet of the night, you lie in bed, restlessly tossing and turning. you pass time watching the headlights pass the window pane. the empty space beside you feels increasingly vast with each passing night. his warmth, his presence, the feeling of completeness he brought to your life—all of it is deeply missed.

weeks have passed since you agreed to part ways with trevor, and the weight of regret bears down on you. throughout your daily routine, everything seems to trigger memories of him. the scent of his cologne that still lingers in the air, the sensation of his arms around you, and the echo of his laughter haunt your thoughts. it’s all vanished, leaving you begging to turn back the clock.

recollections of the heated argument that led to your breakup flood your mind. the hurtful words exchanged in the heat of the moment once seemed justified, but now you see the mistakes. you wish you could take back those terrible words and heal the wounds.

“you’re so fucking full of yourself, trevor!” your voice was loud, thunderous even. “do you even care about anyone else other than yourself? have you ever even cared about this relationship?” the questions hung in the air. he took them like a bullet, each going through him with a stabbing pain.

he look at you through teary eyes, “of course i care! i’ve done everything for you!” he retorts, matching your tone. “you say i’m the one full of myself, but you don’t even know, honey. you’re just as bad as me.” he stifles out a sarcastic laugh. the sound of your heart breaking fills your ears.

through staggered breaths and choked sobs, you muttered, “it was never a good idea starting something with you. i knew you’d act like this.” you didn’t even mean what you were saying. the words flew freely off your tongue and straight into trevor’s face.

“then maybe we should break up.”

break up. you and him were breaking up.

tears streamed down your cheeks onto trevor’s boston university crewneck that swallowed you. “yeah, i think we should.”

you jolted up in your bed, shaking your head as an attempt to get the memory out. without thinking, you grabbed your phone, dialing his number, but hesitating to press call. finally, your thumb pressed down on the screen. his unchanged contact photo filled the screen as the dial tone rung through the silence of your room.

your heart seemed to pause when he finally answered, and for a moment, there was silence before his voice filled your ears. “hello?” he greeted, his tone tinged with confusion. say something! say something, y/n! but just as you parted your lips to speak, he interrupted with, "who is this?"

your heart sank as the realization hit you. he had deleted your number. tears welled up in your eyes, and with quivering breaths, you hastily hung up the call.

{ #2 }

as you stroll along the familiar streets of your hometown, an unmistakable sense of nostalgia washes over you. it’s been quite some time since you last been to bedford, your home town, and it feels as if a floodgate of memories from your past has been suddenly unleashed.

you hadn’t been back here since you moved to anaheim with trevor. your family would travel to california for holidays and your busy schedule never gave you time to visit.

taking a turn onto a tree-lined street, you find yourself at the very place where you first met - the moment that started it all. this was trevor’s street.

you find yourself pausing, leaning against the street sign, your thoughts carried away by the flood of emotions. it’s a bittersweet rush, a reminder of why the two of you were soulmates to begin with.

the memory of his radiant smile, the tenderness in his gaze, and the way his fingers used to entwine with yours - all of it floods your senses, and an overwhelming longing for the hockey boy surges through you, stronger than it has been in a long while.

you stand before the street sign, caught in contemplation about taking a stroll down memory lane. you know he wouldn't be here; he left his family home when he got drafted by the ducks a couple of years ago. it’s the offseason now, and he's probably out somewhere in los angeles, likely at some club.

still, doubts swirl in your mind as you turn the corner, and there it is - a jolt of surprise courses through you. his orange bronco is parked right there in the driveway.

your walking comes to a halt as well as your breath. he was in bedford at the same time as you. your thoughts go back to yesterday when you thought you saw someone who looked like trevor, but before you could catch a second glimpse, your sister was pushing you out of the store. he’s been here the whole time.

in a vulnerable moment, a thought crosses your mind - to reach out, to hear his voice, to find out if he misses you too. yet, reality soon hits you, and you're reminded of the reasons that led to your parting. the pain, the heartbreak, and the carelessness.

with a heavy heart, you continue down the street, leaving behind the memories and the longing.

{ #3 }

you push your shopping cart down the aisles of the grocery store, your eyes scanning the shelves for the items on your list. it’s just a routine errand, but today, something feels different.

as you turn a corner, you suddenly spot him - trevor, standing by the fresh produce section. your heart skips a beat, and suddenly it becomes hard to breathe. it’s been a while since you've seen him in the flesh.

sure you knew it was coming. he was in bedford at the same time as you, it was only a matter of time before you bumped into each other. and yet you were still surprised as ever.

his eyes scanned the shelves for cherries - his favorite fruit. whenever you’d go to the store together he’d make sure to grab two bags of organic cherries, just because he knew he’d go through the first bag within a day or two.

his hair has been trimmed since the last photo of him you’d seen. you always attempt to stay away from any social media news surrounding trevor. it just hurt too much to see anything regarding him. however, a few times you’ve caught yourself searching his name, just to check in.

as you continued to stare at him from hidden inside the cereal aisle, an impulsive urge to go talk to him filled your mind. a chance to reconnect, to bridge the gap left by the breakup. or possibly to strike up conversation and maybe relight the flame that once went out.

but then, a wave of doubt sweeps in. a few weeks ago you scrolled by a tiktok about trevor. as soon as you saw his name your scrolling halted. although, you soon paid the price.

there were rumors that the hockey star has some sort of relationship with dixie d’amelio. your heart flooded with hurt and sadness. there had been photos of him at her birthday dinner and out on an aquarium date (where he had taken you many times before).

yes, you two were broken up, but it had only been a few months. were you really that easy to get over? were you just another one of trevor’s flings?

the mere idea of him with someone else sends a surge of sadness through you. it’s an unexpected punch to the gut, causing you to hesitate. you don't want to face that reality, to witness him contentedly moving forward while you still wrestle with unresolved emotions.

with a sad sigh, you pushed your cart along through the aisle and away from trevor. he hadn’t even seen you, but what if he had? would he had forgotten about his rondevu with the tiktoker for you? or would he not even bat an eye? maybe it was best that he hadn’t seen you.

{ + #1 }

it had been a few days since you’d seen trevor at the market. seeing him was reliving the break up all over again. reliving the turmoil of packing your things and giving him back all his possessions. you just couldn’t take it. you couldn’t take seeing him. not right now at least, so, the safest option was to just stay locked inside your airbnb. however, sofia had a different plan in mind.

with relentless enthusiasm, sofia called you up, her voice brimming with excitement. "you won't believe who i bumped into at the coffee shop today!" she exclaimed. "it’s destiny, my friend. we’re going out tonight!"

you tried to resist, your initial instinct being to wallow in the comfort of your own thoughts. "i don't know, sof. i’m not really in the mood for going out."

but sofia wasn't about to take no for an answer. "nonsense!" she declared. "we’re going to hit the town, dance our hearts out, and try to get laid!" with sofia’s infectious energy, you found it hard to argue.

she arrived at your doorstep dressed to the nines, her outfit shimmering with confidence. "we’re getting you out of that slump, babe," she announced with a wink.

“fine.” you grumbled, stomping your feet into your bedroom and picking out the tiniest and shimmeriest outfit you had. it would be good to go out and have fun for a change.

within an hour, you and sofia were walking into the crowded club. the air reeked of alcohol and sweat. sofia grabbed your hand tightly, leading you through the crowd of people and to the bar.

once she reached the bar, she ordered some colorful drink that you were sure would get you drunk with the first sip.

“here you go, doll.” she smiled, passing you the glass. you looked down at the concoction, not entirely sure what it contained, but the mystery didn't faze you as you downed it, savoring the bittersweet burn as the liquid slid down your throat.

“that’s my girl.” she praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “now i’m going to do my rounds, make a few friends, and maybe score some free drinks. you’re welcome to join, but i assume you might want some space.” she said. “it’s up to you, honey.”

the thought of trailing behind sofia as she charmed every man in the room didn't hold much appeal. "i’m good, sofia. thanks, though," you replied graciously. she beamed, bid her farewells, and reminded you to call if you needed anything.

throughout the night, the atmosphere of the club and the effects of the colorful drink started to ease your mind. you swayed to the music and danced with a few nice girls around you.

and then through the flashing lights and dancing bodies, your eyes locked onto a familiar figure across the room. trevor was standing there, his gaze unexpectedly meeting yours. then the real reason you were out partying came back to you. you had forgotten him for three hours at most, that must hold some sort of record, right?

he turned to you, completely forgetting the conversation he was in and walking towards you. as soon as you saw him move, you were already zooming to the exit.

“y/n, wait!” you heard him exclaim from behind you, but you didn’t dare to look back. you could already tell that he was hot on your trail.

as you dashed toward the exit, your heart raced, pounding in your chest as the thought of trevor catching up to you consumed your mind. sofia’s cheering and the party atmosphere had become distant.

outside, the cool night air hit you like a brick. you leaned against the club’s wall, your breath coming in heavy gasps as you attempted to gather your scattered thoughts.

within moments, trevor caught up to you, his face etched with concern. “why are you running away from me?” he asked, his voice cracking as he spoke.

you looked up at him and just like that, you broke months of no contact. you hated how his blue eyes caused butterflies in your stomach despite the situation. you despised how his tender touch on your side had the power to make your troubles vanish, yet simultaneously create new ones.

“trevor, i,” his gaze softened as your voice rang in his ears. he longed for the sweet sound of your voice over these past few months. “i can’t face you right now.”

despite your words, you didn’t dare to move a muscle.

“why not?” his tone was gentle and composed.

you stared at him, inhaling a sharp breath. you look up at the stars and then to the oak bench that stood to the left of you. tears sat at your waterline, threatening to fall at any moment.

“because facing you brings it all back. it brings back all the memories and everything i wish would’ve happened.” you confessed, your voice quivering with raw emotion. tears welled in your eyes and trailed down your cheeks

he stepped back, his hand rubbing his neck. “what do you wish, y/n.” his voice grew louder, laced with a mixture of longing and desperation.

“i wish you would come back!” you retorted, your words spilling out uncontrollably. “i wish i never hung up the phone that night and i wish you knew how much i miss you because it’s too much to be angry anymore."

the hockey player stood their breathlessly. why hadn’t you said this before? why hadn’t you said this when you were breaking up? if he had known he would’ve been in your arms these past lonely months instead of praying to the universe that you’d come back.

with a word, he took a step closer, and his arms enveloped you in a warm embrace. you felt his heartbeat against your chest. the tears you had been holding back finally flowed freely, along with his own.

trevor’s voice broke the silence, gentle and sincere. "y/n, i wish i could turn back time and change everything."

you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt or insincerity. finding none, you whispered, "it’s not about turning back time. it’s about moving forward."

he nodded, his grip on you never faltering. "i’m here now, baby. i promise i won't let you down again."

a warm smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "i missed you so much," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

his fingers brushed away your tears, his thumb caressing your cheek. "i missed you too, more than you'll ever know."

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#nora’s birthday celly!#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagines #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #anaheim ducks

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cheeseanonioncrisps · 3 months

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Boiling hot take, but we're never going to be able to tackle the problem of bullying, especially in schools but also in general, unless we address the fact that some people, especially some kids, are just… not that great to be around.

And that's not always their fault.

Like, as an autistic adult, when I look back on the ways I was treated as a kid, on the one hand I think "fuck that was shitty to live through", but on the other hand, I kinda get it?

I was loud and regularly called out in class or interrupted people when they were talking.

I had a narrow range of interests that I was very interested in, and wasn't great at recognising when the person I was discussing them with wanted to talk about something else.

I couldn't judge my tone of voice and so things I said often came across as insulting when I didn't mean them to.

I was highly opinionated and argumentative.

I would sometimes lash out at people physically (when provoked).

I growled and hissed at people like a cat when I wanted them to go away, because I didn't know how to communicate that in human terms.

I used to hit and bite myself when I felt frustrated, and a couple of times threatened to hurt myself during stressful social interactions.

I had a loose grasp of personal hygiene.

Was any of this a justifiable excuse for bullying me? No. I was a kid, struggling with a brain that was structured very differently to everyone else's. I didn't even know what I was doing wrong a lot of the time. I had a disability.

But was this a justifiable excuse for not wanting to hang out with me? Fuck yeah.

Like, I would have liked it better if I'd been able to have close friends in primary school (without the teachers having to literally set up a structured group of people who were willing to befriend me, complete with weekly meetings where we discussed our social issues with an adult mediator present)? Yeah. That would have been great.

But I was also weird and unpredictable and gross and inconsiderate, and I wouldn't have wanted to hang out with me either. The other kids didn't owe me their friendship. (Even though, again, none of those things were my fault.) But that doesn't mean I deserved mistreatment.

Basically, I think there would be less bullying if we had more preschool books and Very Special Episodes about how to handle interacting with people who are essentially harmless, but who you don't really want to be friends with all the same.

Get rid of the dichotomy in kids media where everyone is either deliberately and purposefully being unpleasant because they can, OR Just Like You with no annoying or unpleasant traits whatsoever.

Sometimes people just are Annoying. It sucks. But part of living in a society is learning to walk away from those people and leave them be, rather than treating their existence as a personal attack.

#bullying #self harm tw #yeah i was messed up in retrospect #and it didn't help that i wasn't formally diagnosed until i was 17 #school #childhood

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peace-love-and-french-toast · 3 months

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Severus Snape rant

Disclaimer: I don't support JK Rowling's views and I'm not a TERF. TERFs, DNI for you.

Sorry for ranting, y'all. I'll try to keep things quick (note from the future: be warned. I failed). Spoilers and mentions of friendship toxicity and bullying under the cut.

By the way, for this I am generally talking about regular canon. When I discuss things people think about this, the headcanons are generally assumed to go alongside regular canon to complement it. I understand that there are fix-it fics out there where everyone is happy, and while I love that, I'm talking about how JK Rowling let it play out.

UPDATE:

Don’t interact with this post if you only want to insult me/my writing style. I am not accusing anyone of doing this, but I can see that there is a very definitive downward spiral, and I don’t want to see the bottom of it. However, I am willing to listen to arguments until things turn into personal attacks.

I don’t care that much about Snape: just a few lines on a page. I understand people have strong opinions on him (me too!). That’s fine. But I’m a real person, just like all the people on this platform (well, except bots). Let’s embrace that, and focus on the fact that we are all, in the end, Harry Potter fans.

Kat out.

Let me start with this: Severus Snape shouldn't be with Lily.

To keep to the simple stuff and the things most people can agree on first, no one "deserves" Lily. In this post, I was nearly guilty myself of talking like this, but please keep in mind: Lily Evans is not some kind of consolation prize, something given out to whoever is deemed the most worthy, the most angsty, whatever. Regardless of Snape's virtues (or lack of them: but give me a sec) he won't somehow earn the right to be in a romantic pairing with Lily. In all the stuff on the table in terms of how Lily viewed Snape, she wanted a platonic relationship. So that's part of what I have an issue with: talking about canon as if there was any part of romantic thing on the table. Lily never had a crush on Snape. It was a one-sided thing.

Now, to controversy. Let's address some common reasons for why people say Lily shouldn't have ditched Snape and why these shouldn't excuse his behavior. Keep in mind I'm talking about things that happened before Lily's death, because after death doesn't really matter to her. She's dead by then.

Snape had a bad home/school life.

That's true. But he then chose to continue the cycle of pain by joining a pureblood supremacist group and calling fellow students slurs?

2. The Marauders did some terrible stuff to him.

I really need a disclaimer here. THIS WAS TERRIBLE, AND I HATED IT, AND THE MARAUDERS WERE COMPLETELY IN THE WRONG HERE.

But this post isn't defending the Marauders, it's arguing that Lily was justified in choosing to let go of their friendship.

Anyway, this is an irrelevant excuse for why Lily should remain friends with him, because she thought this was terrible too... and then Severus screamed a slur at her when she was trying to help him. Way to go, Snape.

3. He loved Lily.

Hold up. Stop the clock.

Wut.

Okay, this needs to be a new section. Let's call it:

Being In Love With Someone Doesn't Excuse Your Actions Towards Them

Quick story time, cause this section uses an extensive metaphor. IRL, I used to be best friends with this girl. She was toxic and refused to change.

Her excuses for why I should keep hanging out with her?

Current mental health situation.

Things just "slipped out". (Yeah, Snape LITERALLY USED THIS EXACT EXCUSE)

I was really important to her (So was Lily to Snape)

I stopped being friends with this girl regardless, because her actions harmed my mental health, isolated me, etc.

(And before someone says friendship is different etc. she had a crush on me two Valentine's days in a row and I'm unsure if she still does)

These are all excuses. Let's define that word for a second.

"attempt to lessen the blame attaching to (a fault or offense); seek to defend or justify." -Oxford Languages from Google.

Contrast with an apology, where someone actually tries to make things better. Snape constantly gives excuses. His apology comes much, much too late in the form of begging Lily. Now, with my own toxic friend, she also claimed to want to make things better.

In the case of both Snape and Toxic Friend, they'd continually insisted it wasn't their fault, ignoring the problems in the relationship and not making an effort to fix them. By the time Lily and I broke things off, we'd made up our minds. We turned away and felt good about it, because they negatively impacted our lives.

Maybe Snape was in love. Maybe my friend really wanted to be friends with me. Both are probable.

Still, neither followed through on the steps necessary for a good friendship.

Depersonification, aka Lily is a Person Not A Shiny Toy, Severus

Crack open your books, hit play on the movie, or simply recall as we all remember how Snape looked at Lily.

In the books (won't mention the movies because I didn't watch them) he looks at Lily and Harry sees "undisguised greed" in his eyes. Um...

Snape's fine with hurting Petunia, figuratively and literally.

He ignores what Lily is actually trying to say to him once she tells him what he wants to hear.

And calling her Mudblood. (Can't help myself interrupting here: I myself never 'just accidentally' call someone a racial slur. That's because I don't use them, so they aren't exactly waiting on the tip of my tongue).

All of the things he does are in there for a reason. JK Rowling is trying to unsettle us, and she succeeded. Snape seems to view Lily as an accomplishment, an achievement, a plaything to be admired.

Why?

He never takes Lily's feelings into consideration. Not once until it negatively impacts him. Look at where he comforts Lily: when it looks like they've made a mistake and hurt Petunia.

When Lily gives up on him.

And I know: there was more, there was more, there was more.

Potions homework done together.

Eager chatter between classes.

It's not black and white.

But these are the scenes JK Rowling has decided will give you the best impression of their friendship. She didn't pick tender scenes with cocoa and cookies because that isn't a theme in this friendship.

And onwards to:

They Used To Be Friends, Why Did Lily Stop Talking To Him Like This

It's hard to know what a person is truly like. You only know what people show you, and they hold back the worst of themselves at first. In Lily's first scenes, she doesn't know everything. She doesn't see the greedy looks he gives her. He is a new boy about her age who understands her like nobody else in town could.

Years go by. He calls people like her "Mudblood", he makes friends with awful classmates who do illegal and immoral things and are rumored to be training for war. The other side of the war, the one that kills people.

He shows her the worse sides.

By the time he calls her Mudblood, she has already tried to stop him from going down the wrong path. He's ignored her and ignored her and she finally snaps.

Can you blame her?

This apology seems like yet another excuse, a means to an end of keeping her by his side.

She's had enough.

Conclusion

So concludes the saga of Lily and Severus.

As he makes his decisions and she hers, Lily perishes saving a son whom Snape will later torment in her classes.

Harry grows up.

Snape oversees the creation of a school designed for indoctrination, watching passively as cruciatus curses are dished out. Her son meets him on the battlefield.

Voldemort gets to Snape first.

And thus, Snape meets his end.

And that's it, because things work out like that sometimes. Snape chose his path in life. Lily responded accordingly. And years later, he continued to stay stagnant in character growth, even becoming a child's worst fear from his unequally distributed cruelty.

A note:

If you disagree, feel free to debate me! I enjoy calm discussions. HOWEVER, please remember that we are all, in the end, people with lives and feelings, so don’t scream at me if you don’t agree with what I’ve said here.

#severus snape #harry potter #anti severus snape #snape #lily evans #lily potter #lily evans potter #long post #rant post #toxic relationship #don’t hate me #snape and lily #snily #severus and lily

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