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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 4 months

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Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.

Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.

His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.

He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.

In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.

His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.

And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.

Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.

He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).

Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.

Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.

Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.

Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)

No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.

Tim was a villain!

At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.

Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 4 months

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So I'm The Villain (Take It All series) - Max Verstappen

Current/Ex!Lewis (also massive age gap)

Summary: Lewis dating a woman in her early 20s was controversial, but he promised her nothing would ruin what they had. What he didn't expect was for the Dutchman who took his title to take his girlfriend.

This is for the girls who love a bit of controversy and definitely love a bit of villain!Max

Part 1 - When I Speak. He Listens.

Part 3 - No Point in Fixing It

Part 4 - Winners Always Win

Part 5 - They’ll Never Shut Up

Talking to Lewis wasn't as easy as Max had fooled her into believing. Which is not his fault by any means but Lewis assured her that if she just listened to him and ignored it then they would get bored and go away.

Y/n didn't seek Max out for help or his attention. So when they're in Brazil for a race that many dub as Lewis' second-home race. Of course that means y/n wanted to be there to support him.

"Y/n, how are you doing?" Max asks as her catches up with her walking through the paddock making her literally jump and straighten up a little.

"I'm good...how are you?" Y/n smiles softly while Max walks with her, keeping in step with her.

"Good. Did you speak to Lewis?" Max questions making her frown. "No?"

"I did. But he said what he always says." She shrugs with a softly sigh. "I just need to ignore them and they'll get bored."

"They never get bored." Max states almost bitterly earning a look from her. "I know I am his enemy. But I am also here as a friend if you need one."

"Thank you." Y/n smiles feeling like Max might understand her a little more than Lewis right now. "How are you feeling about Brazil?"

"I am a winner. I win." Max shrugs earning a laugh and suddenly dawns on him that he'd never really heard her genuinely laugh. At any point, close up or from a distance. The sound is so unfamiliar but it sends a warm shooting through him.

"It's good to see the confidence." Y/n states before spotting Lewis in the distance he it's fairly obvious he's spotted the two of them. "It was nice catching up. Good luck for the race."

Max nods stopping his steps as he watches her walk towards Lewis, waiting on the one gesture that will tell him his chances. The one gesture that will let him know what his likelihood to take this girl who deserves better. And by better he thinks himself as that on this occasion.

She turns back, looking at him with a lingering glance just before she reaches her boyfriend who doesn't look annoyed. But he could be masking the upset with a smile, pleased to see her.

But that look back at Max. He knows that's his invitation in to perhaps play to be the one she is more deserving of.

After all on the occasions that Lewis has fallen short in the past, Max has performed and came out the victor. This time it's not a matter of sport or points.

Admittedly if this goes wrong, if he ruined a relationship with no benefit to himself or even with no benefit to y/n. He hates to think that this all may end horribly and if he has a say, it won't. But if he's going to pursue a plan to steal another driver's girlfriend, especially Lewis Hamilton's girlfriend. He needs to be careful and always consider what is best for her before himself.

Lewis had a consistent weekend so far. P5 on both the race and sprint starting grids.

Y/n sits in the Mercedes garage watching the sprint race. Only 24 laps but Lewis ends up P7 by the end. Not a promising look at tomorrow, but they can use the data for the real points tomorrow and he still got an additional 2 points for the weekend that if the sprint wasn't happening, he'd not have gotten.

Yuki ended up ahead of Lewis. An AlphaTauri that is prone to mistakes and retirements beat the 7 time world champ. Sure it was only in a sprint but the media will rinse this.

Lewis doesn't even acknowledge her, annoyance as he makes his way to media and then to the unit for the debrief.

As predicted, Max won. Having made over an 8 second gap from the rest of the pack. Though it was only so small because Lando had performed well getting P2.

If Brazil is Lewis' happy place. He certainly isn't feeling it.

She wanders off deciding not to comment on the matter, not to try and force her company upon Lewis when he is clearly preferring to focus on the task in hand. Getting a win in Brazil. It's important for not only him but the team who performed well enough to get their only win last year. Sure it wasn't his win, but that doesn't mean it can't be this time.

"We have to stop meeting like this." A voice jokes as she passes the entrance of the Red Bull unit to find Max exiting just in time.

"You won the sprint." Y/n comments making Max hum, not sounding all that approving of her words.

"I did." Max states then looking around. "Where is Lewis?"

"In the debrief. I'm sure he'll be there all night." Y/n murmurs while Max raises an eyebrow. "He wanted things to go well today, but I think being beat by Yuki might have been a blow to the confidence."

Max looks at her sadly before she swallows and smiles at him shrugging the topic off with dismissal.

"You and Lando did so well though."

"The McLaren are closing the gap on us. I'd be surprised if they don't manage a race win." Max admits as they begin to walk together, y/n heading towards the exit of the paddock with Max. "I could give you a ride to the hotel if you think Lewis will be here late and just wants to be on his own."

"Oh, actually that would be great. I just need to grab my stuff." Y/n states then making Max nod before she rushes back to the Mercedes unit. Bumping into George as she heads back out, he's also on his way out. "Hi, George."

"Hey, where you off to in such a rush?" George questions before spotting Max and as usual, there's no hiding his thoughts in his expression.

"I think Lewis wants to be alone and Max offered to give me a ride home." Y/n states making George look at her for a moment, clearly processing if y/n is really doing this. But she's impatient and doesn't need one of George's judgemental looks until it's behind her back. "I'll see you tomorrow George."

George just watches her disappear with Max, who doesn't look back but there's no hiding his smirk of victory and George is uncertain of what do to.

Y/n ended up having dinner with Max in the hotel, since he discovered that she hadn't properly eaten today, before they divided and she ran herself a bath. Steeping in the hot water till Lewis appears and he's not the easy to read.

"Can I join?" He asks softly after nearing the tub and leaning over to kiss the top of her head before beginning to take off his clothes.

"You know you can." Y/n nods with a small smile before she finds herself joined by him, his body sitting and relaxing back opposite her. Not that it stays like that for long.

Y/n shifts forward till she's straddling Lewis, her intention to help him destress ahead of the Grand Prix being her priority.

"I'm sorry I ignored you earlier." Lewis murmurs before he kisses her collarbone. "It wasn't fair."

"I understand. It's ok." Y/n assures him before using one hand to cup his face. "You know there's a reason people still root for you here, why they cheer for you around the world. Even on your bad days, you have more support than anyone else on the grid. You don't always need to be so harsh on yourself."

"I need to stop taking it out on you. That's what I need to do." Lewis states making it obvious he has his own intentions for this bath and how he wants to end his day. "I need to take care of you and that's what I'm going to do."

And y/n believes him. Not just about tonight, but she's hoping these words mean beyond that. But only time will tell and maybe Lewis has to hope he's just not too late to save his relationship.

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victimsofyaoipoll · 6 months

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Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

#poll #finals #sakura haruno #naruto #misa amane #misa misa #death note

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penny00dreadful · 6 months

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Comeuppance - Part 1

Part 2 AO3

It was getting beyond ridiculous now. And if no one else wanted to help, then Dustin would take it upon himself.

Steve had helped him get his first girlfriend. He’d put his body between Dustin and the demodogs in the tunnels, even though he was half conscious and fully concussed. He’d helped them escape from torture and taken the blows in their place. He’d kept silent about his bites while they strategized in Max’s trailer.

He’d been with them through almost everything.

The only thing he’d missed was that first year but even then he was defending Nancy and Jonathan.

Dustin just wanted his brother to be happy.

And if no one else was going to do it, he’d do it himself.

He’d looked at his mother, how much brighter she used to be before his dad had died all those years ago.

He looked at Lucas and Max who always had secret smiles for each other.

He looked at Hopper and Joyce who’d found each other again after years apart, there to support their partner in everything.

He wanted that for Steve.

Steve deserved it.

To be happy with someone.

Maybe Dustin had… breezed through one or two of his mothers romance novels for inspiration, trying to figure out who the perfect candidate for Steve would be. How he could make it happen. What the method might look like.

With that in mind, he pulled in the rest of the Party who seemed to go along with him more begrudgingly than anything. Maybe they’d just gotten tired of arguing with him.

He’d have to examine later if that was something he needed to work on.

How could he become a world renowned scientist or engineer if he didn’t have anyone who would push back against him?

“Eddie!” Dustin called up towards the roof of the trailer, where he could just about make out the small plumes of smoke curling up against the bright blue sky. “Stop sunbathing, we need your help.”

The sounds of Eddie’s chains and jewellery rattled against the roof, telling Dustin he’d just rolled onto his stomach, allowing his arms to dangle down over the edge as he continued to puff away.

Eddie exhaled the smoke in his lungs and took a haughty tone when he said “A man such as myself would never be caught sunbathing, Henderson. That’s jock shit.”

Something caught Eddie’s attention behind him. He glanced back and when he turned towards the Party again he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Did you hear me?” Dustin crossed his arms over his chest like he’d seen Steve do on numerous occasions before, trying to exude the same authority. “I said we need your help.”

“Alright.” Eddie let out a loud exasperated sigh. Dustin could tell he was playing up his irritation, though. “I’ll bite. What do you need my help with?”

Dustin grinned wide, delighted to be able to expound on his plan. “Steve’s love life.”

Something thudded against the roof of the trailer but Eddie didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to see what it was, just continued staring down at them, blank faced.

“What was that noise?” Mike asked, staring up at him.

Eddie shrugged. “Kicked something. Pray tell, why are you coming to little old me for help with Steve’s love life?”

“You two are friends now, right?”

Eddie snorted into his elbow. “I suppose that’s one word for it.” He muttered, barely audible from all the way up there.

“And you’re a guy his own age.” Dustin had to shield his eyes from the sun as he stepped closer. “He’ll listen to you.”

That got a loud laugh from him. “The hell gives you that idea?”

“He’ll listen to you more than he’ll listen to us.”

“You’d be better off asking Robin.” Eddie propped his chin up on his hand. “They’ve got that weird mind meld thing going on.”

Dustin huffed.

Robin would never hear them out.

“We can’t ask Robin.”

“Well maybe you should stop meddling, you ever think of that?”

Meddling? What was he, a child? Some evil villain? No. He wouldn’t call what he had planned meddling. He was aiding. He was helping.

Meddling implied he didn't know what he was doing, which he did.

He'd researched.

“I’m not meddling. I’m helping. We’re just trying to make the guy happy so what’s the issue? He’s clearly lonely.”

Eddie’s expression hardened. “Clearly lonely, is he? That’s a real charming thing to say about your babysitter, Henderson. Not everyone needs romantic connections in life. He has me, he has Robin. He has Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle. And up until a few seconds ago I would have said he had you all too. But apparently you’re not enough. Because he’s lonely.” He spat out the last word like it had personally offended him.

“He’s been single for so long-”

“Have you considered that maybe he’s happy that way? Or that he already has someone and just hasn’t told you?”

Dustin scoffed, crossing his arms again.

Eddie just wasn’t getting it.

“He’d tell me if he had someone.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Eddie let his voice drop low. “Because you meddle, Dustin Henderson.”

“Dude, why are you being so defensive right now?” Couldn’t he see that what Dustin was doing was for the best? For everyone? Why did no one seem to want the same things for Steve that he did? “We’re asking for your help to make our friend happy!”

“Why can’t you ask Robin?”

Robin also wouldn’t get it.

“She’s too close to the issue. She won’t be objective. She’ll side with him no matter what.”

“And I won’t?”

“No. Because I know what I’m doing? I’ve researched this? It’s not fucking rocket science. If the idiots in movies and tv can make it happen surely we’ll be able to do it easily.”

The Party was practically a protégé mix of brains. There was no way this could fail.

“Movies and tv.” Eddie muttered to himself like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Jesus Christ.” He tilted his head back behind him for a few moments, listening for something before turning to face them again. “Alright, listen. I’m not agreeing to anything yet but tell me who’s the other person wrapped up in this?”

Dustin finally allowed himself to smile, proud of the clincher he was just about to reveal.

“Nancy.” He said, puffing out his chest and cocking his eyebrow.

He’d definitely just won this argument.

Except Eddie didn’t smile back at him and immediately agree, like Dustin had been expecting.

Instead Eddie moved his whole head with an eye roll and groaned. “You can’t be serious. He’s over Nancy. He’s told us all many, many, many times. He doesn’t want a relationship with her.”

Fuck sake. What wasn’t Eddie getting about this?

That’s just what people said when they were trying to save their hearts or there was some kind of contrived misunderstanding.

Dustin had seen the way Steve looked at Nancy from the car at the Snow Ball.

He’d heard the things he said to her in the Winnebago.

“Well, I don’t believe it. There has to be a reason he’s not dating Robin and we all heard the Winnebago talk. They’re meant to be. They’re perfect for each other.”

Eddie pursed his lips but stayed silent for a few seconds, considering. “Okay. And what about Nancy?”

Dustin blinked up at him confused. “What about her?”

“What does she say about this whole thing?”

“We can’t tell her, Eddie. We can’t tell either of them. Obviously.”

“Uh-huh. So Steve’s pining after Nancy, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Nancy pining after Steve?”

Dustin opened and closed his mouth, trying to formulate his comeback. He hadn’t really… thought too hard about that. But like… why wouldn’t she want him?

He was handsome, he was strong, he had money, he wanted kids, he wanted marriage, he was respected around town.

He was the perfect package!

And actually, if Dustin remembered correctly, she’d smiled at Steve during the Winnebago talk so she was receptive at the very least.

But he didn’t have a chance to articulate his argument because Eddie was barrelling ahead again.

“Oh right, I get it. Nancy doesn’t have any agency in this because the guy should always get the girl no matter her opinion right?”

“No!” That wasn’t what he meant. “It’s not like that-”

“You’re telling me that Nancy Wheeler,” Eddie interrupted, “gun toting, government fighting Nancy Wheeler. The same Nancy Wheeler who is currently working on her exposé of the sexism she experienced at the Hawkins Post, which is due to publish the second she goes to college at Emerson, where she already has an internship lined up, is going to just go along with this? And also, did I forget to mention, she leaves in six weeks? If you do get the two together what’s Steve supposed to do then?”

That was all semantics.

Once they were together they could work that out between themselves! But Dustin knew Eddie wasn’t going to like that answer so he came up with something else quickly because it wasn’t that hard, because this made sense.

“He could go with her!”

“Oh, so fuck any desires he had, then? He’s just gonna drop everything here and go? Follow her like a lost puppy?”

Dustin rolled his eyes again. “C’mon Eddie, now you’re just being combative for the sake of it.” He placed his hands back on his hips, again trying to exude parental authority. “It’ll be good for him to experience things. What does he even have here to drop? I mean, it’s about time he moved on from this town, right?”

“Henderson.” Eddie snapped in warning.

There was a moment of pause where they both stared at each other before Eddie rolled back around to face the back of the trailer. He muttered something in low tones that Dustin couldn’t hear and the next second was clambering down off the roof.

He landed far more gracefully than Dustin would have thought he was capable of before stomping over. “Do not let him hear you say that. He’ll think you don’t care whether he’s here or not.”

Dustin threw his arms out at either side of him. How could Steve possibly think that? He was just stating plain facts! “Of course I care!”

“Then act like it!” Eddie threw his own arms out in a similar fashion. “You’re making these decisions without him. What you’re trying to pull is peer pressure, all of you, you understand that right? It’s barely a step away from bullying.”

“Eddie, c’mon.” Mike crossed his arms, unable to meet his eye. “You’re looking at this all wrong. That’s not-”

“Yes it is. You’re all trying to get him to conform to what you think he should do, regardless of how he feels about it.”

Dustin shook his head, looking up at Eddie and imploring him to understand. What they were doing wasn’t malicious. “I just want him to be happy.”

But Eddie wasn’t relenting so Dustin would have to compromise somewhere to make this work.

“I understand that.” Eddie started. “But this isn’t-”

“Listen okay, FINE.” Dustin huffed. He did not stomp his foot. “I swear if you help us I’ll… I’ll stop if it doesn’t work. I swear, I promise if this doesn’t work and we don’t get Steve and Nancy back together I’ll never meddle in his affairs again. Please, I swear.”

Eddie loomed over him, dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothes, intense presence and Dustin was suddenly reminded of why he was intimidated by him when they first met at school. “On your mother?”

He nodded eagerly, hope starting to rise in his chest. “On my mother.”

“Okay.” Eddie sighed. “If it doesn’t work you are to never stick your nose in his business again, you understand me?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Dustin agreed, his mind already planning far ahead. “But you don’t need to worry about it, it’ll work.”

“You’re so sure of that are you?”

“I know him best out of all of us, I know him.” He tried not to let his smugness through, he really did try. But he couldn’t help it. “This’ll work.”

“I think you’re looking at this through little kid lenses and can’t see past the end of your own nose.”

Dustin opened his mouth in offence. “I’m smarter than you, you know.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean you’re a grown up. You're sure you have all the relevant information? You know everything there is to know and there's no way this could go wrong?” Eddie was acting like he knew something Dustin didn't, which just couldn’t be true. He’d planned for all the eventualities.

“Of course I do.”

“Alright.” Eddie nodded, turning back to his trailer and pulling himself back up onto the roof. “If you’re sure. Now scram, kiddos. I gotta get back to my sunbathing.”

It was all going terribly.

If Dustin didn’t know any better he’d think that Steve was totally checked out from the romance sphere. And he was acting a little weird. During one of their usual rides to the arcade, he’d told Dustin he was happy, which was great but it had come out of nowhere.

“Okay? I’m glad you’re happy?”

“I mean it though.” Steve drummed his fingers against the wheel. “Where I am in life right now, my friendships, my relationships, I’m happy. I don’t need anything to change. I’m good with how things are.”

Dustin had to think back on what they’d just talked about.

They’d been speaking about Steve’s most recent trip to Indy. He’d been a little cagey on what he, Eddie and Robin had been doing up there, but that was probably because it was some weird grown-up thing they were doing that they didn’t want Dustin to know about. Like he couldn’t handle it, whatever it was.

There was nothing they’d talked about that might have led to this.

“Right… well thanks for letting me know?”

Steve just nodded at him like it was a job well done and the whole thing was just plain weird.

Things got even weirder when he saw Nancy. She was dropping off some of her old study notes to him and she mentioned that it was a good thing that she was single right now. She’d be going away to college soon and she couldn’t stand the idea of dragging someone away from their home just for her sake.

Dustin stared at her a little bewildered but tried to get her to see reason anyway. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone there with you, though?”

“No,” she answered lightly, “it would probably add more pressure to be honest.”

Dustin didn’t think there was any way that was true. Surely it would be easier to acclimate with someone from home to keep her company.

But despite his numerous attempts to get Nancy and Steve alone together in situations that could easily turn into dates, with soft touches or glittering eyes or whatever else the fucking books talked about, nothing had happened.

No progress had been made and it was fucking frustrating.

He’d gotten the two of them to sit together, away from the rest of the group at the cinema and they just… watched the movie?

Not once did Steve try to put his arm across the back of Nancy’s seat or take her hand or even whisper to her, getting their faces close together except to nudge her playfully for the popcorn. It was a perfect set up and he was doing nothing with it.

How was Steve so bad at this?

Didn’t he have a reputation in school?

And Eddie was less than helpful.

Every time Dustin leaned forward in anticipation of something happening between the two of them, Eddie would throw a kernel of popcorn at his head with a childish giggle, watching the scene unfold like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Dustin’s next attempt had fallen flat as well.

He’d told Nancy that all the older teens were meeting at the diner for dinner together and had gotten Eddie to pass the message onto Steve. Nancy seemed wary initially but relented surprisingly easily, without much of a fight and Dustin was convinced he was getting better at this.

But the Party watched from the bookshop across the street as the two of them chatted amicably and even laughed together a few times but that was it. They didn’t share any food between them, they didn’t feed each other, they didn’t even get the single milkshake with two straws.

That was a beginner level move!

Dustin was losing his fucking mind, just trying to get those two to do something so he had to go big.

Again he recruited Eddie to help, out of complete necessity this time.

Because there was no way Dustin could sneak into The Hideout to see how this plan was shaping up but he was confident that something would happen this time around.

He told Eddie to do everything within his power to keep the two of them together.

Alcohol is a social lubricant, it shouldn’t be that hard.

Eddie had just scrunched his nose in disgust, mouthing 'social lubricant' to himself.

But even that was a lost cause because when Eddie walkied to update him on their progress a little breathless, probably from playing, he said he’d shredded so hard on stage, Steve spent the whole time watching the performance which was the exact opposite of what they were trying to do.

Dustin was nearly ready to lock the two of them in a closet until they got to it, but he wasn’t there.

Yet.

He had another option up his sleeve.

Which is why he was shocked when Max announced she was pulling out of the whole thing.

“Listen, dipshit. It’s not working.” She’d said, frowning at him.

“It will work! You can’t pull out now!”

“I can and I will. When you come from where I come from you learn pretty quickly to mind your own fucking business if you don’t want a punch in the face and it’s getting there.”

Dustin could do nothing but throw his hands into the air as she stormed off.

It gave him the final push to start ramping things up.

“Eddie, we need you to flirt with Nancy.”

The man in question turned his head slowly and methodically until he was facing Dustin completely, his hand still hovering over the battle map he was prepping.

“Excuse me?”

“If you make Steve jealous, that might be the kick he needs to finally do something.”

“You’re playing with fire here, Henderson. You can’t toy with people’s feelings like that.”

“Who’s toying with feelings? There’ll be no feelings involved.”

“What about Steve’s feelings? What about Nancy’s?”

“You're overthinking this.” These kinds of miscommunications always worked out in the end, come on.

Eddie’s mouth was set in a firm, grim line.

He looked beyond irritated.

“And there’s no way this could possibly blow up in your face, right?”

Dustin looked at him like he had six heads.

Why was he the only one who was seeing sense here? This was how things were done.

He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Nancy and Mike into the Harrington basement.

Steve barely glanced up at their arrival, just sending a short smile their way, too deep in conversation with Robin about the news or interior design or whatever the fuck grown ups talked about.

Dustin sent a very pointed look Eddie's way who heaved the most put upon sigh, rising from his seat and giving him, the middle finger which he sarcastically reciprocated.

“Hey Nance.” Eddie said, sildling up beside her and oozing charm and charisma. “I'm glad you decided to come today. Don't know what I would've done if I had to go without seeing your pretty face for much longer."

Steve and Robin’s conversation abruptly cut off.

Robin was blinking up at Eddie from her position on the couch with nothing short of bewilderment and Steve just raised an eyebrow looking almost amused.

God damn it, why was he amused?

Nancy herself looked incredibly confused, flitting her eyes in between Steve and Eddie for just a second before Eddie made some kind of hand gesture that Dustin couldn’t see.

Nancy smiled.

“Just a pretty face?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at him which on its own was weird. Dustin didn’t think he’d ever seen Nancy do that before.

“Oh of course not, Lady Wheeler. Everyone knows you’re more than just a pretty face.”

She reached a hand out, grasping his upper arm in a little squeeze. “Dunno if I could say the same thing about you.”

Eddie clutched at his heart, stumbling back a few steps. “Oh! The Lady Wheeler has wounded me most grievously!”

“Oh, stop it, you.” She swatted at his arm. “You’re still pretty.”

Which… this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Nancy wasn’t supposed to flirt back!

“Would you care to join us?” Eddie asked, sweeping his arm out towards the table where the rest of the Party had finished setting up.

Dustin stared open-mouthed.

Eddie never asked anyone to join unprepared.

“I’ve heard this arena of play isn’t unfamiliar to you.” He continued, lowering his voice and leaning in close to Nancy but he wasn’t quiet enough to stop Dustin hearing him. “I’ve even heard you used to get into costume for the kiddies. You into a bit of roleplay, Nancy?”

Steve widened his eyes at Eddie and twisted his wrist.

Shit.

Steve hadn’t won most human on human fights but he could probably take Eddie to the cleaners pretty easily.

Steve wouldn’t though, right? He wasn’t that kind of guy?

Dustin was, thankfully, proven right when both Steve and Eddie went back to ignoring each other in favour of watching Nancy.

Eddie straightened up and Dustin could see a slight scowl and a glare on Nancy’s face but it was filled with more fond exasperation than outright anger.

Eddie broke away from her with one last wink and took his seat behind the DM screen while Nancy lowered herself down next to Steve and Robin.

“I’m going to pay for that later.” Eddie muttered to himself.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Mike grumbled, thudding his forehead into the table.

“Chill the fuck out, Romeo.” Dustin hissed. “You’re supposed to be making Steve jealous not getting Nancy to actually like you.”

Eddie just shrugged. “I can’t help it if I’m irresistible.”

Time flew by as they all got sucked into the game and Dustin felt his spirits lifting. Steve kept glancing in Eddie’s direction and it gave him hope that their plan had worked. Maybe he was getting jealous if he couldn’t keep his eyes off him over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read.

Dustin’s suspicions were all but confirmed in the next few days as Steve started to slowly mope around every time Eddie shot a wink in Nancy’s direction or made her giggle.

It was honestly a bit over dramatic the way he’d sigh wistfully towards them or get an honest to god pout on his face.

“This is your chance, dude!” Dustin jumpscared Steve in his kitchen, nearly causing him to spill the popcorn he’d just poured into a large bowl.

“Jesus H. Christ, where the fuck did you come from?” Steve set the bowl down a little louder than he needed to before reaching up to rifle through his cabinets for more snacks.

“Washington.”

“Har har, very funny.”

“I’m serious about this, Steve. Aren’t you jealous seeing Eddie flirting with Nancy all the time? Don’t you want to do something about it?”

"Dunno if I'd call it jealousy." He muttered.

"Come on, you need to like…" Dustin wanted to say 'mark your territory' or something but he was pretty sure if that ever got back to Nancy he'd be six feet deep before he could even blink, so he just mimed a shoving motion.

“You’re not seriously suggesting I punch Eddie for Nancy’s favour are you?”

“No! That’s not what I’m getting at at all, fucking hell. I meant for you to turn on your Harrington Charm I’ve heard so much about! Steal her away from him!”

“I don’t think anyone can ‘steal’ Nancy Wheeler, Henderson.” His tone abruptly shifted from exasperation to something sadder, like he’d flipped a switch. “Besides, what’s the point?" He sighed, like a wistful maiden. "She’s clearly more interested in Eddie than in me.”

“That’s a very defeatist attitude. You haven’t even tried anything yet.”

Steve looked down on him, turning something over in his head before nodding. “Okay. I’ll try. Now help me carry these back inside.”

Dustin happily filled his arms with snacks and followed Steve back out to the living room where the rest of their friends were waiting.

Eddie and Nancy were sitting side by side on the couch, pressed up against each other. Dustin took his seat on the floor along with the rest of the Party, spreading the snacks out in front of him and keeping an eye out as Steve flipped the lights off before making his way over to the two.

“Excuse me there while I just-” Steve lowered himself down, directly in the middle of Eddie and Nancy, practically on their laps until they squirmed away to avoid their legs being crushed under the weight of one muscular jock.

Eddie was biting his lip in the way he usually did when he was trying not to laugh and Nancy had her hand covering her mouth, maybe in shock. Probably in shock.

Robin sat next to all of them in an armchair with her hands covering her face, shaking her head and Dustin had to try very hard not to facepalm into the next century.

God this guy was hopeless.

Steve wiggled a little in place, getting comfortable and placing the popcorn bowl on his lap with a goofy grin. “Are we ready to start?” He asked, plucking the remote from Eddie’s hand and pressing play.

It was only a couple of days later when Dustin’s walkie crackled to life in the dark evening hours.

“Operation White Picket Fence, sound off.” Mike's voice came through.

One by one each member of the Party confirmed they were there, ending with Dustin. “This is Dart the Bard, checking in. Over.”

“This is a Code Orange, I repeat this is a Code Orange. Over.” Mike called.

“Hold on Paladin. We need to wait for Kas. Over.”

“That’s a negative, Dart. We need to talk without him. Over.”

But Eddie was a part of Operation White Picket Fence, even if his participation was working a little too well. Maybe that’s what this was about.

He huffed, endlessly glad they'd decided to stick to codenames, he couldn't deal with his mother overhearing any of this.

“Okay,” Dustin replied, “let’s switch to our backup channel just in case he checks in. Over.”

The Party sounded off their agreement and he turned the dial on his walkie, settling on the right numbers and waiting to find out exactly what was going on.

“The plan is backfiring. It’s going wrong. I overheard Emerson on the phone talking about Kas and Babysitter. She was going on about how she’s really started to like Kas. Like like. She has a full blown crush on him now and apparently it’s helping her move on from Babysitter. Over.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit! This is not what was supposed to happen! Over!”

“I know! What the hell are we supposed to do now? Over.”

"We'll tell Kas to stop. Maybe get him to start talking up Babysitter instead. Over."

"I don't want to see my s-Emerson get hurt over this, Bard. Besides, Kas is way better than Babysitter anyway. Over."

"But they're not meant to be! And Kas doesn’t even like her like that! Babysitter and Emerson are meant to be! We'll just have to regroup. Start pushing them harder or something. Over!"

"Yeah, because that's been working out so well so far." Lucas grumbled. "Over."

Dustin nearly jumped at the sound of the phone ringing elsewhere in the house. He sat, waiting for his mom to pick up. At least if she was on the phone he could be sure she wasn’t listening in.

When the ringing stopped and he could hear the muffled sounds of his mother talking to someone, he continued.

“Babysitter hasn’t been on a date in months and the only person he’s been hanging around with other than Red Bird is Kas! He’s not trying anymore so this has to happen before Emerson leaves for-”

“Dusty? Phone for you.” His mother’s voice came through his closed bedroom door, accompanied by her knock.

“Shit. Hold on, guys. Phone. Over.”

Dustin pushed himself to his feet and opened the door, following his mother down the hallway. “Who is it?”

“Eddie.” She replied with a soft smile.

Speak of the devil. He thought. Well, no time like the present to sort this out.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dusty-Buns.” Eddie’s infuriating smile was audible.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s so fun! Listen, I need to talk to you about this whole Nancy and Steve thing-”

“Good, because I need to talk to you about it too. You gotta dial it back, man.”

Eddie paused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re getting in too deep with her, you’re starting to pull her attention away from Steve and that was not a part of the plan.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m not sure if I can really do that…”

“Wha- why? Why, Eddie, why?!”

“I dunno, man.” Dustin could hear him shrug. “I kinda like her.”

“No! Nonononono! You can’t like her! You’re not allowed to like her, why do you like her?!”

“What do you mean I’m not allowed? And as for why, have you met her? You used to have a crush on her!”

“Yeah, when I was a child, you can’t be serious about this, Eddie.”

“I’m super serious about this, Dustin. I like her. I want to ask her out.”

“Jesus Christ this was not part of the plan!”

“And I didn’t want to be a part of the plan from the start! You forced me into it! I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“It will work. It still can work! We're still doing this whether you like it or not. I’ll see you at Steve’s tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime!”

“Dust-!”

Dustin slammed the phone back down onto the cradle, stomping back off to his room, ignoring his mother’s calls after him.

“Guys,” he said, snatching his walkie up from the floor. “Things just got so much worse. We need to come up with a new plan before tomorrow.”

Steve didn't seem too suspicious when Dustin called him to let him know the Party didn’t need a ride to his house for the get together, they’d bike. They needed time to get their plan straight anyway.

All of that was thrown out of the window, however when they pulled up to the Harrington home and heard shouting coming from inside. They all shared a nervous glance with each other, easily recognising the voices as coming from Steve and Eddie.

"-can't believe you would do this to me!" Steve yelled, standing on the opposite side of the living room to Eddie who had his arm draped over Nancy's shoulders. Robin was sitting on the couch between them, unusually subdued with a lollipop in her mouth, her eyes ping ponging between them like she was watching a tennis match.

"Steve, please! I thought you'd be happy for me!" Eddie shouted back, waving his free arm around.

"Happy for you? How could I be happy for you when you're stealing Nancy away from me!"

Nancy gave a little frown but didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry Steve but-”

“You’re supposed to be my friend Eddie!” Steve's voice pitched high like a whining dog and he sniffled… loudly.

“I am your friend! But you can’t expect me to ignore the pull of true love!”

Nancy turned her head to look at him. “True love?” She asked, her tone flat.

“That’s right. True love, shnookums, my precious little rainbow cupcake.” Eddie booped her on the nose and she looked like she was fighting hard not to punch him.

Dustin was horrified. How could everything have gone so wrong?

“This is a complete betrayal! I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same way again, either of you! In fact, I don’t think I can look at you anymore at all!” Steve’s voice was wavering as turned his back on them, facing Robin with his arms crossed who stared at him wide eyed, biting into her lollipop.

“I don’t think there’s anything more I can say to you two. I never want to speak to you again! I never want to see you again!” Steve cried, throwing one hand over his eyes and holding the other out as if to push them away. “Go on, run away together and leave me behind! I wash my hands of you two.”

“That’s too bad Steve, I’m sorry this is goodbye forever, never to see each other again, never to interact or even ask the kids about one another in passing. This is truly a terrible, irreparable breaking of the Fellowship, never to be fixed!”

Jesus they were both laying it on thick, rubbing as much salt in the wound as possible, probably hurting each other terribly in the process. How had it come to this? Was their found family really going to be so broken forever? Dustin didn’t know if he could stomach it.

“Eddie.” Dustin breathed as he and Nancy turned to face them, apparently completely unsurprised to find the Party standing in the doorway. “What have you done?”

“What have I done? I did nothing but follow my heart, struck down by Cupid's arrow! What have you done, Dustin? You started this.”

“This wasn’t the plan, Eddie! This wasn’t the plan!”

Steve turned back around, his face suspiciously dry but Dustin was too far gone to notice.

“You were only supposed to make Steve jealous!” His voice was rising into a shout. “Not fall in love! You were never supposed to seriously flirt with Nancy and I told you not to ask her out! This whole thing was to get Steve and Nancy back together!”

“What plan? What whole thing?” Steve had walked over from his far corner of the room, planting himself down right next to Eddie with his hands on his hips and a stern look in his eye.

Dustin floundered, opening and closing his mouth. “The- we- there was a plan…” he took a deep breath. Well it was all completely fucked anyway, what was the point in keeping it quiet? “The plan was to get you and Nancy back together.”

"Behind our backs?" Steve prompted, not moving. He kept his hands on his hips and kept that hard look in his eyes, waiting for Dustin to continue.

“You haven’t gone on a date in ages, Steve! And you and Nancy were so good together-”

“No we weren’t.” Steve and Nancy cut him off in unison.

“But- it’s- you two are meant to be together! Do the whole white picket fence and babies thing! You just needed a push so I said I’d give you that push!”

"You certainly 'pushed' enough, Dustin." Nancy said, unwinding Eddie's arm from around her shoulders. They were barely even touching now as if some kind of act had been dropped. As if-

"Wait."

"Personally, I think I pulled off 'straight' rather well." Eddie grinned, the picture of smug pride.

"Wait. But this… this was all an act?! But you…” He pointed between Steve and Nancy.

“Listen to me very carefully, Henderson.” Steve raised his hands and began using sign language exaggeratedly along with his speech as though to really punctuate his statement. “I. Don’t want to. Be with. Nancy. Nancy. Does not want to. Be with. Me. Your plan would have never worked-”

But Dustin just couldn’t let this go. He’d been so sure.

“It would have! It would have worked! There were just some,” he gestured in Eddie’s direction, “variables we didn’t think to factor in.”

“There were a lot of variables you didn’t think to factor in. Some of the biggest being how I would feel about this whole thing!" Steve said, jabbing himself in the chest. "Or Nancy! Or Eddie! You just ploughed through without any consideration for our own emotional investments. Did you ever once stop to think why? Did you ever think there was a reason why I’ve refused every time you’ve been bugging me about pursuing Nancy again? Or Robin? Or anyone else? No, you didn’t. You just assumed I wouldn’t know what was best for me or that I wasn’t smart enough to be making my own decisions. That I don’t know my own mind as well as you do.”

Dustin winced. He knew it was a sensitive topic for Steve, people always assuming he was stupid because he couldn’t read quickly or had difficulty hearing. But that’s not what he’d done! That’s not how he’d intended it!

“That’s not-”

“Yes it is. That’s exactly what it is. I’m very familiar with it, I’ve been listening to it my whole life. People making decisions for me about school or sports or whatever because I couldn’t possibly be able to figure it out on my own? I used to see it all the time, I know what it looks like. You ignored every sign, every way this thing could have and would have gone wrong. And because you refused to consider any of these factors you could have blown up some of my most cherished friendships forever! No coming back from it. Permanently damaged. Do you have any idea what that would do to me? To us? We are not your fucking playthings to mess around with, Dustin!"

Panic was starting to settle deep in Dustin’s chest now. He needed backup, he needed something, someone, it wasn’t malicious it was just… he was just trying to help!

“Eddie?”

“Don’t look at me, I am not on your side here, Henderson. I told you how this would end when you first approached me and you wouldn’t listen.”

“But you were bluffing! There’s no way you could have known he wouldn’t want this! You don’t know Steve that well.”

“What happened to 'you're a friend his own age', huh? You’re still assuming you know everything without a complete picture. There’s a glaring puzzle piece you’re missing out on because, and I’m sorry I have to say this, you don’t look at things objectively like a scientist should. You let your emotions run you and again refuse to see past the end of your own nose.”

Dustin crossed his arms, unable to look any of them in the eye. If he had missed something it couldn’t have been something that obvious. He just needed to find out what it was.

“What could I possibly be missing?” He grumbled.

“Oh no, you don’t get to bully that information out of us." Eddie said. "If you were meant to know, then you’d know. But you don’t get to decide what secrets people do or don’t tell you. Part of being a grown up is understanding that.”

“But why… why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?”

“This. This is why, Dustin." Steve answered, running a hand through his hair. "Because you meddle. For months we’ve been telling you not to, but you don’t listen. You’ve made us feel like we have to keep things secret from you because what if you decided this secret thing is a bad thing, even though it makes the people involved happy? If you decide it’s bad or not the best course of action, you might have decided again that you know best and try to break it. Don’t even try to deny it, Dustin, you know it’s the truth.”

“But… but if you’d just told me it makes you happy-”

“You mean like how I told you I was happy where I was now and didn’t need Nancy back in my life romantically? That I was happy with how all my relationships are now?" Steve sighed, shaking his head. "You still tried to fuck with it, Dustin. You still tried to fuck with a good thing because you think you know better.”

“The both of us went to you separately and made it crystal clear that we were happy with things the way they were." Nancy said. "We’d agreed that if you backed off, we’d back off too. But you didn’t. You could’ve destroyed our friendships, destroyed our relationships, destroyed each of us mentally and emotionally. You just kept pushing. You want to be treated like a grownup? Well congrats, you got what you wished for. Consequences. No sugar coating. Grown up consequences. Just like you wanted.”

“But what about the others? They were involved too!”

“And they’ll get their punishment. But we all know you were the ringleader.” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, unmoving.

“So that’s it? You’re happy being single? Really?” Dustin knew he was pushing. He knew he should have really kept that last comment inside, he really should have.

Because Steve had been irritated, pissed off and upset. But now he was angry. Honestly and truly angry and Dustin didn’t think until this moment that it had ever been directed at him before.

It was a soft anger, simmering and cold and disappointed.

“You still don’t get it.”

Steve was looking at him and underneath the anger and disappointment there was also a streak of heartbreak that Dustin didn’t know what the fuck to do with.

Everyone else was looking at him now, Eddie and Robin were like marble pillars, bracketing Steve at either side with a stern look on their face, Nancy was glaring down at him and all of his friends behind him had wilted.

He was the only one left standing proud and a horrible, terrible part of his brain was saying to him that if everyone in a room was telling him he was wrong, maybe… maybe he hadn’t been as right as he was sure he had been.

“But I-” Dustin stuttered. He… he hadn’t set out to hurt Steve. He would never… “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

“Dustin.” That was Nancy, circling around him now until she came to a stop in front of him. “I think it’s time for you to go. All of you.”

“But-”

“If you refuse to leave, it will become trespassing.”

Trespassing? What, was Steve going to call the fucking police on him or something? But a glance back at Steve’s face, resigned and hurt and angry told him that maybe he couldn’t exactly hash everything out right now.

He’d just have to wait for everyone to calm down and then they could work this out.

They could work this all out, right?

“I mean, how could it all have gone so wrong?”

They were all sitting in Will's room, the whole Party in a circle on the floor. Dustin was… confused.

He was angry. He was hurt. He was… so upset. And all with himself because… well because he had hurt Steve. Had been hurting Steve for long enough that Steve felt like he had to hide things from him.

He made Steve feel like he couldn’t talk to him, tell him about this good thing in his life because he thought Dustin might fuck with it?

And yeah, Steve hid shit from them all the time.

His rocky recovery after the Upside-Down, both mentally and physically. The amount of times he had to fight off infection from the road-rash on his back and arms. The nightmares. The panic attacks. The concussions. The hearing loss.

But all those things Steve hid from them because he didn’t want them to worry, he didn’t want to burden them with their problems.

He’d never hidden something from them, from Dustin because he was happy.

Whatever this thing was, it apparently made Steve really, really happy and Dustin never knew. Because Steve had been afraid that if he told Dustin and Dustin didn’t like it for whatever reason, he’d try to take it away, try to meddle.

God, he was starting to hate that word.

Meddle.

It felt so fucking childish.

"It was never gonna go right." Max muttered from in between Lucas and El.

And Dustin didn’t know why it was that that did it, that quiet and slightly accusatory comment from Max who rarely pulled her verbal punches that caused the first tear to spill free.

And they just kept coming. His vision was blurring and there was a terrible lump in his throat, forcing its way out.

The first sob that broke through sent a ripple throughout the group, plunging them into silence and Dustin could feel them all staring.

The next second he was set upon, everyone coming close to get their arms around him or hands on him, to comfort him even though he didn’t feel like he deserved any of it.

“What did I do?” He blubbered. He wasn’t even sure who’s shirt he was crying into. “What do I do? Steve didn’t tell me, he won’t tell me b- because he thinks I’ll try to take it away. Wh- what do I do?”

“Dustin.” Oh, that was Lucas. He was destroying Lucas’ shirt. “Do you understand why what you did was so fucked up? I’m not asking to punish you more, but you can’t fix it until you understand what was broken. It’s science.”

Science.

Yeah, okay. He could understand that.

Can’t just smash pieces back together. You gotta examine them.

“I- I ignored all the times they told me to leave it alone?”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah. Anything else?”

Someone was running a hand up and down his back and someone else had both his hands in a firm grip.

“I… I kept pushing. After they told me to stop. Af- after they told me they were happy. Because I thought… I thought, how could they be happy? I wouldn’t be happy in their position, so they must not be happy. And everything with Steve… trying to push Robin or Nancy towards him because… because he’s supposed to be with someone, right? And they’re his friends so why wouldn’t he want one of them?”

“Same reason you wouldn’t want me.” Max said. “Or El.”

“I did want you once.” Dustin mumbled. There was no point trying to deny the past. Not at this stage.

“And Steve wanted Robin once. But they’ve always been just friends.” One of the hands in his squeezed, and that was probably Max. “Could you imagine someone trying to force the two of us together now? After everything we’ve figured out between us?”

“B-but that’s different. You’re with Lucas.”

“So? What if I wasn’t and someone was still trying to push us together? Or what if we had to hide our relationship because of small minded idiots and we couldn’t say why you and I wouldn’t work out, we just had to hope someone would take our word for it. And then what if they didn’t and just kept pushing?”

Dustin hummed, a weak and shaky thing but he could see her point. It would be fucking torture to try to deal with all of that and to not be able to say anything about it.

What a terrible hypothetical.

“I…” He sniffled, trying not to wipe his nose off on Lucas’ shirt. “I need to apologise. I need… I need to talk to him.”

There was a tap on his shoulder and he glanced up to see Will holding out some tissues.

He took it with a watery smile.

“We’ll help you figure it out.”

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation and @hairstevington for her help with the ASL section. 😘

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie x steve #steddie fic #stranger things fic #fanfic #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #wip #ao3 #dustin henderson #the party #comeuppance #pennys anniversary event

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physalian · 18 days

Text

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more.

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #sci fi #character design

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wisellamawerewolf · 1 month

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Heaven has a point and it's ruining the show's entire premise

*rant under the cut*

It has probably been said before by other people who can articulate their thoughts better, but considering the way VivziePop chose to tell her story, Hazbin Hotel's premise just doesn't work.

At first the show's main idea was presumably about how it's never too late to become a better person. The themes of Hotel and providing redemption to damned souls if they CHOSE to become better was fitting for that concept and it could've worked well without much involvement from Heaven. Yearly extermination (although arguably not necessary) added stakes and a sense of emergency, but making Heaven fully involved in the situation was a very questionable choice. Now the main theme of the show is less about "self-improvement" and more about "Heaven is hypocritical", and it just doesn't work well for one (main) reason: every single sinner we have encountered are absolutely horrible.

I already sense some that people might bring up the "They're in Hell" argument, but here's the thing: it would've worked fine with the initial premise, but you can't say "Heaven is bad for exterminating souls" when these souls a.) killed, hurt and ruined people's lives when they were alive; and b.) kept killing, hurting and ruining people's lives in the afterlife. Is there a better solution than just killing these people? Probably. But that doesn't make Heaven seem hypocritical and unjustified. At worst it makes them look stupid, because if they knew most people would find extermination of souls abhorrent, they could've just send someone to rearrange hell and completely isolate the most vile sinners from others in order to prevent them from hurting people, instead of just letting them continue doing their shit but in a slightly worse place.

Another argument that comes in mind probably sounds something like "well obviously not EVERYONE is irredeemably bad in this place, and Heaven is surely unjustifiably sends people Hell for stupid reasons if it's overpopulated". And if this statement is true, I have a couple of questions:

Why then literally none of these people are in the Hotel? Surely Charlie could've find at least some of such people and convince them to participate in her experiment. This is probably better to live under the protection of one of the strongest beings in hell than being potentially killed in the streets, so what do they have to lose? If none of these people believe in Charlie's idea, why every time we meet a non-resident, they are always murderous assholes, with almost no exceptions? If Hell is full of wrongfully condemned souls, why doesn't Charlie address them in the seventh episode, instead of going to the cannibal town to ask for help?

I think I've said it somewhere before, but VivziePop wants to criticize religion for scaring people with eternal punishment for doing arbitrary and harmless stuff, but also wants to treat said punishment as a playground for her edgy OCs most of whom are the exact people who by all logic should be in hell.

She wants her story to be about redemption but then turns around and says "actually, my homicidal OC's did nothing wrong, the SOCIETY that condems them is a true villain. Please ignore corpses my faves piled up in the corner". Viv wants to have her cake and eat it too, which results in a sloppy writing.

The most frustrating thing about this that it could theoretically work if handled more carefully: Charlie is already naive and Vaggie is a freshly exiled angel so just make them believe that all sinners have a legitimate reason to be in hell and need to be "fixed". Let them run into Angel Dust and try to make him improve, only to later learn that better people were turned down in heaven and send to hell because of the arbitrary reasons.

It could've both drived the message of "you can always chose to be better" and provide a valid critique to the religion in regards to what counts as a "sin" and wether it deserves such a hursh punishment or not, but ut VivziePop just can't decide what she wants to do and talk about so she just throws in everything at the same time.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #thanks tumblr for posting my half-baked post again because of “bad connection”. geez.#i was full of tequila yesterday and my Spotify decided to “bless” me with “You didn't know”#and the lyrics were so stupid I made another rant. So enjoy i guess?

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sugarydolli · 2 months

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dilf!bakugou fluff (/ω＼) :.*+

slightly pudgy cheeks flushed red with anger and tight vermilion peer up meeting your face of a sour mixture between regret and irritation. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Now why on earth would you attack your classmate?"

A call from Kazu's third grade teacher surprised you, hearing that your eight year old assaulted another child at her school. To learn later that the boy stole another student's bag of chips, your child bravely stepped in, pouncing and punching him until separated.

"It's what dad told me to do mom! He said you're supposed to defend ci-vili-ans!" stomping a little while testing the last word on her tongue. You started to regret your decision to allow her to train a little with her father, thinking that it would help her be a little more responsible with her quirk.

You couldn't find the words to even begin to scold her, especially when her pout was so damn cute, ash blonde pigtails loosened from all your hard work this morning, tight lips replicating Katsuki's infamous scowl, plump little fist wave back and forth as she desperately tries to explain herself. No, you weren't strong enough to scold her.

But maybe someone else is.

୨୧

Crayola crayons fall onto the wooden table as soon as heavy boots come barreling through the door. Soft little paddles ring against the tile, Kazu jumping up and down to shortly being swooped up into Katsuki thick arms.

"I heard someone was a little shit today"

Two thick fingers pinch plump rosy cheeks, his tone indicating he was proud rather than upset, you scoffed at the scene, arms folded against your chest turning off to the television—promptly starting to make your way upstairs.

"Taking up after me, huh brat-" cutting a piercing look shot in his direction killed the words on his tongue, he cleared his throat—setting Kazu down, Katsuki kneeled becoming eye level with her.

Kazu's cheeks flushed, that same scowl creeping back onto her face. Her small hands pressed flush against her chest.

"You know better than to fight your classmates, What's gotten-" Katsuki knew that look. He knew what's next before it even played out, and he loathed it.

Katsuki's attempt at a "I'm so disappointed" face morphed into worry, worry to a sour mix of misery and rage. It's not foreign for a father to have trouble scolding his baby girl and Katsuki was no different. A strong part of him screamed 'fuck this, kid probably deserved it anyway', words clawing up his throat viscously only to be forced back by the reminder of expulsion if she does it again.

"I just wanted—wanted to be jus' like you."

Tears threatened her lash line, lips formed into a pout, puffed up cheeks. A chubby fist swiped fat tears quickly, a thumb wiping off the next.

"Kazu—baby. Listen, I know you meant well but, bein’ a hero doesn't always mean beatin' people up.” glassy scarlet peer up at him, bottom lip still trembling. “It doesn’t..?”

“‘course not, it’s about, uhh, problem solving and protecting people using methods that doesn’t always include your hands.” A thick hand ruffles the top of her hair, Kazu’s tears no longer flowing.

“One day, when you are a hero—best hero ever—you’ll understand.”

"But for now brat, just let me handle all the real villains!" Kazu cheerfully nodded, cheeks burning bright as before, a short silence fell over as Katsuki anticipated his next question—gazing up at the stairs, searching for your figure before turning his attention back.

"Did you get 'em good? Right in the eyes like I showed you?"

enjoy!! (๑>◡<๑)

#bakugou #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki bhna #dilf bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki #katsuki bakugou #mha fluff

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alwaysshallow · 3 months

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prompt: You’re a retired S-tier supervillain. After you retired, you married a B-tier hero. You are forced back onto the stage when an A-tier villain attempts to kill your spouse. Ghost x reader

A/N: i don't know if i hate this or i like, so. it's yours to decide lmfao. especially that's a tiiiiny part that i decided to wrote bc i was bored.

Everyone wants to live happily ever after.

Not exactly a quiet life, but not too loud either. A perfect balance, where you have all the things (or almost all of them) to be happy, fulfilled in life.

Life that wanted your mother for you, before it all went down. Before you turned evil, as she liked to say.

You try to tell yourself that you deserve every inch of it, but you still miss the thrill of the hunt, blood on your hands, the way you just ruled the city like you wanted. Unbothered.

When your husband doesn’t look, you take out your mask, hidden carefully behind all those unopened cartons from your wedding. He thinks you burned all of your past, and here you are. Hiding it like a precious possession, so carefully.

It took you long enough to earn it—you don’t think you quite deserve it, but it’s nice to be a wife that can greet her husband every time he comes home from work. Every time he mentions something about you joining him, but it could be quite a laugh, you say.

A retired villain turned superhero. You’d rather die than make it happen, but that’s what your husband doesn’t know.

Well, he doesn’t know a lot of things.

For example, he doesn’t know how conflicted you are. Unconsciously, you think that you sabotage all of those happy moments. Overthinking stuff, asking yourself if you’re really in a good place, if you made a right decision; if a man is worth giving up your career.

Your whole life, if you want to be petty enough. Your whole life changed because of him—hell, you even changed in some way. Less snarkier, more laid back, so you wouldn’t be degraded to trophy wife, burned out villain in front of his friends and family.

Make them proud, he said once, before a meeting with his friends. Meeting that turned to complete disaster, heading home way earlier than you were supposed to because superhero bullshit bored and annoyed you enough.

But you tried to put up with it. Convince yourself that it is your fate, not the villain route that you chose before.

Fate hits you right in the face, when you enter your apartment to see three significant changes.

Your husband is tied like a pig on the table. Tight.

The apartment looks like a tornado went through it.

And three—

“Took you long enough.”

Yeah. That’s three.

You almost want to laugh. A bandit-like balaclava could scare a lot of people, but not you—not when you know him inside out. Not when you basically competed with him your whole life before.

Yeah. Before. Before you met your husband, before you two got married, before you decided to retire. The taste of this decision is bitter on your tongue, just like the thought that you feel excited for the first time in months because there’s potential danger. Something breaking you out of the routine.

“Normal people do groceries around this hour.” You shrug casually, taking a few steps; the intention of untying your husband falters the moment Ghost blocks your way, amused. You raise your eyebrow. “Come on—”

“—What? Scared?”

“No. But he has probably nothing to do with your business,” you point out, harshly. He lets out a scoff.

“Said that he’s gonna call cops on me. Very unfriendly behavior from a superhero, won’t you agree?” He tilts his head with a theatrical manner.

“I’d do the same,” you murmur under your nose, taking out the material that Ghost gagged your husband with. Carefully, your hand lands on the ropes, until Simon stops you.

“We have better things to do,” he says, his voice low. “Gotta step out from that wife role for a moment, ‘m takin’ you. He’s gonna do fine.”

“You’re taking me?”

“I am, yeah. A problem?” He arches an eyebrow, his grip tight on your wrist. Attacking him is useless, especially when he knows how you want to do it; he’s quick to pin you down against the counter. His front is hot against your ass—he laughs, as he’s almost able to feel your humiliation. “Won’t do anythin’ right in front of your husband, don’t worry. Or, will I?” he looks down at you, expression mocking.

“I hate—”

“Mm. Yeah, won’t do me good.”

And then, you’re out.

#seriously i want to delete this and redo lmao im just. ugh #struggles are struggling #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #x reader #cod x reader #call of duty fanfic

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tyrantisterror · 3 months

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A Dozen Or So Great Vampire Ladies

Ok, so, on a mostly unrelated post the topic of good vampire ladies came up, and @bisexualdaikaiju suggested/challenged me to do a top 10 vampire women list. As a self-professed lover of vampire women, it felt like a challenge I couldn't back down from. But it is kind of challenging, for two kind of contradictory reasons.

First, while there are MANY female vampires in fiction, most of them feel like afterthoughts, getting far less characterization than their male counterparts, who more often than not are the star villains of the show. When these supporting lady vampires do get something to do, it's generally the same role: make their human lovers sad when they rise from the dead as a monster that has to be killed, an emotional beat that is often undercut by a lot of these vampire women not getting much characterization to endear them to us before they died. Everyone wants to have the Lucy Westerna plot beat from Dracula but they don't want to do the work that Bram did to make Lucy lovable. The lady vamps who get to step out of Lucy's shadow are rare - but that just makes them all the more wonderful.

The second problem is that, since this is an obsession of mine that few seem to share (there are lots of vampire fans, but man do the boy vamps get to hog the spotlight among them), I've done a lot of scattered thinking about it and I just know I'm bound to forget at least one excellent lady vampire character that should be here. And whittling it down to ten, and trying to rank them? That's too hard! My thoughts are too mercurial to do that reliably in a way I don't forget!

So instead here's a list of, like, a dozen or so lady vampires that I think are just fucking stellar, many of which I think break the mold of what pop culture makes us expect lady vampires to be. It is not ranked - I love all these characters more or less equally, and think it's a lot more interesting to see how they take their archetype in different directions than to figure out which one is "best" of the lot.

Carmilla Karnstein

I'm going to start with the most famous literary female vampire, Mircalla Karnstein from Carmilla. I think she might be the first vampire to have an unhealthy obsession with using anagrams of her real name as aliases, though I'm sure now that I've typed that someone will find an earlier example to school me. She's also the one who popularized the idea of lady vampires being extremely sapphic, with an arguably genuine romantic affection for her female victims. She's got well-deserved clout, basically, and like Dracula has been adapted countless times and reinterpreted in some excellent ways. My favorite screen Carmilla is Ingrid Pitt's take, which captures her fierceness, passion, and tragic nature so well.

2. Amy from Fright Night

Ok, we're having one Lucy Westerna knockoff on this list, but as Lucy knockoffs go, Amy is one of the best. It actually helps that she spends 90% of her movie as a human, because we get to know and love her so much before she turns monstrous. And once she does...

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It is pants-shittingly terrifying. I will never stop raving about the vampire designs in this movie - they made their "game faces" so fucking monstrous and I feel like in a better world this would be the standard ever since, especially since they still gave the vampires pathos while making them so ghastly when they've got their feeding faces on.

3. Drusilla

Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a bunch of vampire characters, and to its credit they did a decent job of making the ladies just as distinct as the gents. Harmony and Darla could both have made this list, but my favorite was always Drusilla, who was so traumatized before she became a vampire that it kind of overwhelms the demon spirit inside her. Like, bare minimum thing to make a lady vampire more interesting than 90% of other female vampires in fiction: give her at least one personality trait, preferably an interesting one, outside of being a vampire. Drusilla's fun, and she survives the entire series after dumping her boyfriend to be a single female vampire. Good for her.

4. Ruby from Scary Godmother

Ok look I am a fake Scary Godmother fan but kudos to the artist of the books for making a lady vampire who's very clearly of the nosferatu mold and is also explicitly benign and sweet. A+ vampire lady character design. I hope it doesn't awaken anything in me.

5. Nadja

What We Do in the Shadows is excellent at finding new takes on vampires in general - it even made me actually like Psychic Vampires as a concept, a feat I thought was impossible - but goddamn do I love Nadja specifically. She's got a distinct personality as vampire ladies go, being very confident and self-assured while also being a complete fucking goober (it is a comedy, after all). She's perfectly capable of being terrifying AND hilarious, often at the same time. A vampire girl failure, in the parlance of our site. I love her.

6. Lady Dimitrescu

I know that she's apparently only in a fourth of the game, but it's still pretty great that Resident Evil 8 decided its mascot villain - its equivalent of the Tyrant, G, Nemesis, etc. - would be the hottest woman I've ever seen a milf an 8 foot tall lady vampire. She's not dainty and willowy like most lady vamps in fiction - not an ambush hunter - but rather HUGE and capable of tossing a human around like a rag doll. She's a physical powerhouse and she looks fine feminine while doing it. Despite being an unabashed blood-sucking monster, she still has enough depth and complexity to have important relationships (like a genuine love for her "giant mass of hive mind flies" daughters), and also she gets to have an awesome transformation into a fungal vampire dragon, which is rad as hell. Also goddamn, her fashion sense is immaculate.

7. Hecate from Hellboy

"Hey, she's not a vampire! She's a goddess! That doesn't count!" Fuck you, my list, my rules. Hecate posits herself as the progenitor and mother of vampires, she drinks blood, and her main form in the comic is as a sicknasty lamia version of the iron maiden used by Elizabeth fucking Bathory, if she doesn't count as a vampire, nothing should. She is the concept of a vampire amped up to maximum capacity, a major mythological figure and an awesome villain.

...also I lowkey shipped her and Hellboy when I was a teenager. They could have made it work!

8 - 12. Carmilla and her girl squad from Castlevania

I suppose I could have counted Castlevania's Carmilla as an adaptation of Miss Karnstein - they're both basted out of Styria, both sapphic, and it's clear she's meant to be an adaptation of the former, just as the Dracula of this show is meant to be a take on Bram's famous vampire. But ultimately they're VERY different characters in the grand scheme of things - Castlevania's Carmilla has none of the tenderness and vulnerability of her literary counterpart, instead being full of barely restrained fury. She is an excellent villain, complex enough to be interesting but thoroughly despicable enough to make it VERY satisfying when she bites it.

I also love her girl posse... in concept, at least. They've all got great designs and the groundwork of interesting characters, but of the the three, only Lenore, the waifish redhead, gets to do much of note. The two on the edges kind of just show up for a few scenes and then bail before the plot catches up to them, doing very little of note - though at least the big hunky one gets one of the coolest fight scenes in the whole show.

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Back to Lenore though - she gets a really nice character arc, and manages to become one of the few sympathetic vampires in the series (while still doing a lot of monstrous shit - she is not a defanged vampire by any stretch). I think her death scene is one of the most moving moments in the series finale.

13. Seras Victoria

A good female vampire has at least one non-vampire part of her personality, right? Ok, so, Seras is:

the muscle in almost every scene she is, which is to say, the one absolutely beating the shit out of people while her allies run for cover

the perky henchman/morality pet of one of history's greatest monsters

the sole ray of sunshine in cast of edgy, cigar-chomping grizzled mercnaries and antiheroes she's been pressganged into fighting alongside

the victim of some HIDEOUS trauma even before her vampirization

the protege of a wise master who gets a full hero's journey arc, taking up his mantle at the end of the series

Like, I love her. She's the secret protagonist of Hellsing. She's got layers like an onion. The scene where she killed Zora Blitz reminded me why I love anime.

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(yeah it's the TFS version fuck you)

14. Youko Shiragami

My Monster Secret is not a horror manga. It is a romantic comedy about a bunch of idiots trying to keep painfully obvious secrets hidden and succeeding only because almost everyone around them is as dumb as they are, just in very different ways. It is a manga where an entire chapter can be summarized as "all the characters race to get the last McRib, using their various supernatural abilities to try and cheat their way to the front of the pack." It is one of the funniest and most heart-warming stories I have ever read, one of my favorite romances of all time, and an excellent piece of long form story-telling.

One of the two main characters is Youko Shiragami, a vampire girl who can't let anyone know she's a vampire or else her dad will pull her out of school. She desperately wants to have a normal life with friends and, like, school shenanigans, but her fear of people uncovering her secret and hating her is so immense that she's been isolating herself from everyone, accidentally torturing herself by being close to what she wants but unable to actually have it.

At least, until Kuromine, the other main character of the story, discovers her secret while trying to ask her out on a date. He ends up promising to keep her secret, and the two of them form a real friendship that blossoms into a very sweet romance, where Youko gets to display all her incongruous personality traits that go against what you'd expect of vampires - namely, that she's kind of a ditz, with an unrefined style of speech and a complete inability to be suave and seductive. She's a sweet, flaky goofball with a big heart, who just happens to drink blood and tan really quickly in the sunlight. There is no other vampire like her, and the world is richer for her being in it.

15. Marceline, the Vampire Queen

This list isn't ranked, but if it was, I'd put Marceline at the top. I think she is not only the most unique and deeply characterized lady vampire in fiction, but ranks right up there with Dracula in how she redefines the idea of what a vampire can be. Like, look at the forms she takes!

There are DOZENS of different monstrous shapes Marceline takes during Adventure Time's 9+ seasons of television, and any one of them would be a superb and memorable vampire on its own. And she's ALL of them. Just on a design standpoint, she is a standout. I think only Dracula himself could compete.

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But she also explores what the concept of what a vampire is in ways no other vampire in fiction can, in part because of the unique nature of Adventure Time's setting. In a world where humans are an extreme minority and most people are weird monsters, a vampire isn't that odd, so we get to explore what being a vampire means divorced from the comparison to "normal" human beings. There's the expected tragedy to Marceline, of course - she's a 16 year old who has been stuck in that adolescent state for hundreds of years, and much of her character arc over the show (including the magnificent vampire-centric storyline, "Stakes") focuses on the horror of being stuck in that transitional state, not quite a child but not quite an adult. Marceline struggles to mature, to understand herself and others, and her vampirism both keeps her distant from reaching those goals but also gives her a lot of time to figure out how to approach them when the opportunity arirves. Marceline goes from one of the most immature and selfish characters in the show to perhaps the most emotionally intelligent, blossoming into a sensitive and thoughtful person she could never have been without first becoming a creature that seems so inherently opposed to ever having those traits.

And she did it all in a children's show where she was rarely if ever allowed to actually drink blood - a problem the writers got around by having her suck the red color out of things, which is right up there with the Joker Venom from BTAS in terms of genius ideas spawned by children's show censorship.

Marceline is the GOAT.

#Vampire Ladies #Youtube

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Don't Speak 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Almost lost this chapter bc my computer went nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hit delete chat in the conversation settings. You leave it just as blank as before and close out the app. Just like Dr. Kemp said to. He can’t be there right away but he has a better plan. You’re not good at those anyway.

All you have to do now is wait out Andy. He’ll be going to work come morning and you’ll be alone. Then you can take your things, the things that are really yours, and leave. Finally. You realise that’s exactly what you’ve been longing for. A way out.

The hard part is still ahead of you. Freedom is still just out of reach. You have to pretend that everything’s fine but you’re realising, you’ve been doing that for a while.

You shake off your nerves and roll the tears back behind your eyes. You can cry later. Even as your cheeks strain and your nose tingles, you resist. Not yet, not yet.

You finish tidying up the tablet, trying to leave it as you found it. With not much else than your drawings. You close the cover and bring it with you as you turn off the lights and head upstairs. You sop up the mess in the bathroom and leave it dark.

You hesitate to approach the bedroom. You hear Andy’s snores, low and steady. Your skin crawls. You enter and put the tablet on the small side table where you charge it. You hang the damp robe and face the bed.

For the first time in your life, you want to hurt someone. You’re not afraid of being the one hurt. You really want to hit him and kick him and just let out your fury on him. You can’t and you won’t. You’re not who he told you you are. And you’re not strong enough for that. You’re still too small, too weak.

So you near the bed and climb under the covers. You move slowly as you pull the duvet to your chin. He snorts, making you wince, and sidles up behind you as he wraps his arm around you. You go rigid but fight through the ice that threatens to encase you. He can’t know, he can’t know.

“Mmm, where were you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had a bath,” you squeak, putting your hand over his. You want to rip him away but instead, you squeeze, holding him tighter. “Sorry.”

“Nmph,” he grumbles and nuzzles your crown, just as quickly drifting back into his rhythmic snores.

You exhale little by little. You close your eyes but just as quickly open again. You know you won’t sleep. You can’t. Not with him as good as on top of you. Not knowing what awaits you in the morning. But mostly, not with that needling guilt in the nape of your neck.

Amber.

You betrayed your own sister. You treated her like a villain. You demonised her. You ostracised her. You left her!

You don’t know if she can ever forgive you. You can’t blame her for that. Worse, you don’t think you’d let her forgive you. You don’t deserve it.

You feel brittle as you bite down on your cheeks. No crying, not yet, you remind yourself. For once, you have to do things right. You have to follow through. It’s up to you now.

🕊️

“I didn’t know you could make crepes,” Andy smiles as he cuts into the roll, compote fruit and syrup oozing out.

You do your best to mirror him, making a show of nibbling away at your own food.

“I found a recipe,” you tap your tablet, not far from you.

“That’s great. You’re… doing better.”

“I’m trying,” you assure him, “I hope it doesn’t make you late for work.”

“Hm? Oh, no, breakfast with you is worth it,” he pops a bit into his mouth and hums. You regret not spitting in it, repulsed by the thought when it came to you, but now, not so much.

He can sit there and lie to you. It makes it easier for you to do the same. He’s been lying this entire time. Making you feel like you’re a problem. A burden. No, you were a thing to be used. To be exploited. He never liked you, the girl he calls dove, he only liked what he could get out of you. And he got off on it.

He took Amber from you. He did that. Yes, you’re stupid for falling for it but he knew what he was doing. He lied to you. And you know exactly how he did it.

He took all that therapy and twisted it around on you. You wonder why he even bothers with Dr. Kemp when he’s not trying to change. More than the narcissist he branded your sister, he’s a psychopath. You found that on the internet too.

Bitter, angry, hateful. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never truly loathed anyone. Not even your grandfather. His fists were nothing compared to Andy’s emotional battering.

“Well, don’t let it get too cold. They get gummy,” you force a smile, only fed by the thought of what comes after. Of what you’re going to do when he leaves.

Run.

🕊️

When Andy leaves, you’re in the kitchen tidying up. You left all the dishes in a stack to make a convincing show for him. You’ll be busy all day scouring the skillet and the fruit stuck to the inside of the pot, along with your plates and the cutlery. Oh and the mess you made of the counters.

The door closes but you don’t break your charade right away. You give it ten minutes. Fifteen, just to be sure. Then you tiptoe down the hall and look out the window. The tire tracks are already snowed over.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. This is your chance. You spin and race upstairs.

You search the closet and the dresser, everywhere for the bag you brought there. It’s gone. Along with all the clothes from your old life. All that was you. Andy took them along with everything else.

Whatever. You grab a few pieces of the more practical slant; turtlenecks, some leggings, a pair of jeans. Socks and underwear. You work quickly, with intent. Just enough to get out, not a lot. Not too much. As little as you can. You don’t want to keep too much that will remind you of this place.

You rush back downstairs after you change. You grab your tablet and message Dr. Kemp, the chat log still blank. You delete each message once he responds. You can’t be too careful.

‘He’s gone. When can you get here?’

His reply isn’t long; ‘ten minutes, been waiting a block away.’

‘I’ll be outside.’

You close the cover of the tablet and stare at it. You hover it over the countertop but stop yourself. No, you earned this. It’s yours. Andy never did pay you for the painting. Not in full.

You hug the tablet and go to retrieve the bag you found in the front closet. A tote bag with faded floral print. You don’t wonder where it came from. You don’t want to think too hard about him or this place. They’ll soon be long gone.

You pull on your boots and your coat. That’s all he’s left you of your former existence. You don’t suspect you would have them for much longer if you stay. You shudder and grip the fabric handles of the bag.

You open the front door and step out into the drift. The snow floats down in fluffy flakes. As you step off the porch, it collects on your lashes. You make slow progress, lifting your knees high as the unshoveled walk makes each step a task. As you come up to the curb, a distant rumble comes from down the avenue.

You shield your eyes against the steady snowfall and squint. You think it’s Dr. Kemp. You’re not sure. When you saw his car, it was dark and you were more focused on other things.

He rolls down the snow-carpeted road cautiously and pulls in the next driveway before turning around and coming up along the curb. He grins at you through the passenger window and the doors unlock with a loud thunk. You grab the handle and pull.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Thanks, doctor, I… thank you. I…”

“You sounded scared, how could I say no?”

You nod and look over your shoulder at the house.

“Let me deal with Andy when the time comes,” he insists, “come on, it’s hell out here. Get in.”

You nod and haul your bag onto the floor ahead of you and put the tablet on top. You stop yourself before you release the device. You look at Dr. Kemp. He stares.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I forgot something,” you say as you let go of the tablet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be two minutes,” you hold up as many fingers, “promise.”

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he assures with a smile, “I’ll be here.”

You take and breath and close the passenger door gently. You whip around and stumble back up the walk, stepping into the holes you left on your way out. You burst inside, not carrying for the melting snow you leave in your stead or the undone dishes, or anything about this place. There’s only one last thing that needs to be done.

You take the stairs two at a time as you complete your final chore. You barrel back down and don’t bother with a final goodbye as you head back out. For once, you feel accomplished. Like you’ve done something and you don’t give a heck what Andy feels.

You don’t look back, you just keep going. You falter but not from doubt, only the snow. You get back to the car and rip the door open, climbing in with a heave. You fall into the seat as you snap the door shut. You lean your head back and sigh.

“I’m ready to go now,” you say.

“Great,” he shifts into gear, “put your seat belt on, sweetheart, the roads are awful.”

You do as he says as you catch your breath. Your skin is buzzing from more than just the cold. You fold your hands as you try to settle your nerves.

“Good girl,” Dr. Kemp praises, “we’ll be home soon.”

🕊️

It’s real once you walk through the front door. You look around at the home decor and nearly fall apart. The stringent, almost sterile walls of Andy’s house haunt you. It’s only then, with something to compare them to, that you realise how much you dreaded them. How much you despised them.

You look around and take in every inch. The brown leather bench beside the door, a tall coat rack on the other side of the entryway, a mat for your snow laden boots, and a runner rug with the honey coloured curlicues on a deeper shade of brown. There’s a faint smell of cedar in the air.

“Ann made up the guest room for you,” he says, “and the kids are at school so they shouldn’t be a bother.”

You stop short, your hands on the collar of your coat. You look at him, dull with shock. Your cheeks tremble as you gulp.

“Ann… your…”

“My wife, yeah,” he says coolly, “she’s excited to meet you.”

“She is?” You blink, “I uh…” your eyes flit all around, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he intones, “really. She understands how vulnerable some of them a safe space.”

It’s like a slap in the face. You don’t know what you expected or why you expected it. He’s your doctor, you’re his patient, a crazy person. How did you forget that?

You glance down at his hand, his left hand. There’s a gold ring on his finger. It wasn’t there before. Not in your sessions, not at Thanksgiving. Never. Why wasn’t he with his family during the holidays?

“I thought I heard the door,” a woman appears from the other end of the hall, “oh, this must be her.”

You bat your lashes, fighting to hold yourself together. Don’t cry yet.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak as she struts down the hall.

“Hello, hon,” the tall blonde pulls you into a hug as you cower.

“Ann,” Kemp clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forget–” she lets you go, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

You only shake your head. Your eyes are dry and itchy. You can only look back at her before slowly glancing at Steve. Your cheeks twinge and your lips pinch. He never told you about her. Why would he?

You feel like your chest is empty. There’s an icy whirlwind inside of you, flowing through you, sending a shiver up your spine. This is the worst thing you've ever felt. What is it?

“Ann,” Kemp says, “she's had a long night.”

“Oh, of course, you take her up to the guest room,” she backs off, “you take your time, hon, do whatever you need to do.”

You nod and mouth a thank you, unable to get any noise out. She goes back the way she came and you turn, focusing on undoing your coat. What have you done?

“I guess I should've warned you, huh? What with your… issues,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me know if it gets too crowded around here.”

“Okay,” you croak.

You bend to wiggle free of your boots. You don't know what to do. You just want to be alone.

He leads you through the house. Into a cozy front room and to a staircase curled up to the second floor. You follow behind him, the tote bag dangling from your grasp.

He opens a door as he faces you. You try to hide your emotions but you can barely keep from frowning. He rests his hand on the door frame.

“This is you. I'm down at the very end,” he points over his shoulder, “if you need anything…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? For…”

“Coming here.”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn't say yes if it was a problem,” he coos as he reaches to caress your shoulder, “I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I don't make sure my patients are safe, huh?”

“I guess not,” you murmur.

“Look, you just get yourself situated. Try to relax. I know a lot's happened but you're strong. You can do this,” he leans in, “I believe in you.”

He kisses your forehead and you wince. His hand goes to your chin as he pulls away. You stare up at him.

“I meant it when I said you're special,” he hums.

“I…” you turn your head away from him, slipping free, “I need to lay down.”

“Sure,” he smirks and drops his hand, “I'll check in when I can.”

You turn into the bedroom, slouching through as you sense him behind you. You feel him watching, as if waiting for something. You refuse to look back.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you're exactly where you need to be.”

The door shuts and you gasp as the bag falls from your hand. What does he mean?

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #steve kemp #fresh #au #library au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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they-call-me-haiku · 6 months

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i find it funny how people praise the owl house for breaking the trend of redeeming the villain when the show instead took the laziest path with dealing with their villain. i mean, i get it. not all villains need to be redeemed and sometimes, it's just fine to kill them off or defeat them. no character is irredeemable, but sometimes the point is that people refuse to change.

but what they did with belos was just lazy. he didn't need to be redeemed, sure, but his ending was way too anti-climactic. he was such a complex character to just be labelled as Pure Evil™ and killed off at the end. he didn't need to be redeemed, but he at least deserved to be acknowledged as the three-dimensional complex character that he is. he wasn't just a disney-esque villain who did everything for power and had no depth to his personality. he was a symbol of religious trauma and how it affects people. he was a horrible person but also a sympathetic one, because i can only imagine how harmful growing up in the puritan era would have been.

like i said before, the show being cancelled is not an excuse. i was so excited to see all the religious and spiritual themes in belos's past, and all the theories that fans were coming up with. hell, some fans did a better job of representing belos than the show ever did. i just feel like it was a whole bag of lost potential. belos could have been one of the most insanely complex and well-written villains but the creators of the owl house wants to impress its fans, so they pull a "haha we're not like other shows because we can't sympathize with the villain!" newsflash: you don't need to redeem the villain in order to portray them as sympathetic. azula from avatar and simon from infinity train are good examples of sympathetic villains/antagonists who don't get redeemed.

it's even more ridiculous considering how rushed and badly written lilith's arc was, even though she cursed her sister, tried to kill a literal child, and almost got her sister turned to stone. you'd think if the show despises redemptions so much, they wouldn't give lilith a lazy and rushed redemption arc like that, only to render her useless for the rest of the show.

#i need to clarify while i sympathize with belos i still get that he's called a villain for a reason #i'm not a belos apologist #since a lot of people here lack reading comprehension #toh #toh criticism #toh critical #toh salt #toh discourse #emperor belos #belos the owl house #lilith #anti lilith #lilith critical #lilith the owl house #lilith clawthorne #philip wittebane

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 4

Well, @forgottenkanji was the only one that suggested a name, but it was really cool, so I decided why not? Do you know what shovels dig? Graves

Welp, this part has reached over 3k so it’s getting split up. And maybe even an epilogue with that anon’s idea. I know I keep saying we’ll see. But this story has taken life of its own at this point and I’m just putting it out there as it comes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

And here we get to the party apologizing and Eddie bitching out his friends.

Eddie had band practice after dinner so he kissed Steve on the cheek a little bit before half-time and left. Steve furrowed his brow a bit when he saw Eddie leave but didn’t say anything.

Eddie arrived at Gareth’s house and hopped out of his van. He was pleased to see that all of the other members of Corroded Coffin were already there. He walked up to them grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Eddie!” Gareth greeted. “You ready to start, man?”

Eddie just stood there with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels.

Jeff looked around Eddie in confusion. “Hey, dude, where’s your guitar?”

“Oh I didn’t bring it,” Eddie replied cheerfully.

The other three shared glances and the muttering began.

“You see I just recently learned that my best friends gave my boyfriend the shovel talk,” Eddie said brightly. “Best friends who really should have known better considering they know my past and that Steve is a hopeless romantic who is a serial monogamist.”

The muttering stopped and silence fell.

“So I’m just stopping by to let you know that because you and several others made my boyfriend so upset he had a breakdown,” Eddie continued in the same cheerful tone, “that if I hear even one word against Steve...” his voice dropped to the dark and wicked tone he used for his villains, “I will gleefully murder your characters in increasingly violent ways and then burn the character sheets. Mm’kay?”

They all nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Eddie said. “See you on Saturday!” And then turned on his heel and hopped back into his van. He drove off with a cheery wave.

Once he was gone they all looked at each other in shock.

“Wait, did Eddie say several other shovel talks?” Jeff asked after minutes of stunned silence.

“Did he say breakdown?” Gareth asked.

“Shit.”

Steve got into work the following morning only for Robin to throw her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “You just always appear so confident and cool when you’re actually dating that I forgot I know you better than that.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “It hurt Robs,” he murmured. “I thought I was your best friend and you were telling me not break his heart. I just don’t understand why.”

Robin sighed and let go of him. She hopped up onto the counter and crossed her ankles. “Being gay isn’t the same as being bisexual. You have other options if it goes to shit.” Steve’s face soured and she started waving her hands. “Not that I think it will. Of course I don’t! It’s just hard. Not harder. Because believe me I have heard some pretty nasty things people have said about bisexuals from both sides of the aisle. And I just got so wrapped up in the gay aspect of it all that I forgot you have it just as hard.”

He just shrugged and half turned away.

“Shit!” Robin said. “I’m supposed to apologizing and I’m making it worse. I am sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have been dismissive when you asked about Eddie breaking your heart. Because of course you’re concerned about that. Especially after Nancy. I just didn’t think it was possible, because Eddie loves you so much.”

Steve nodded.

She jumped off the counter and threw her arms around him again. “You’re my Platonic soulmate and I love you so much. You deserve people looking out for you, too. And I promise that will be me from now on.”

“I love you, too.” He put one hand on her arm as she held him. They stayed like that until a customer came in.

When Steve got home from work Will was sitting on his front steps.

“Hey, Will, you been waiting long?” Steve asked as he unlocked the front door.

Will stood up and dusted off his pants. “Nope. I knew when you got off and before you ask, Eddie told me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to just drop by. His was one of the few houses among their friends with air conditioning and the only one with a pool.

“Dustin mentioned he’d be stopping by to apologize,” Will said as he wandered through to the kitchen, “and me and El decided that since you are too nice, one of us will be here to make sure the actually apologize and not hand wave what they did away.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so.”

Sure enough about ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Steve when to go answer it and Dustin, Mike, and Nancy stood there looking sheepish. Will came out and shook his head.

“That just won’t do,” his said. “Two of you will wait in the front room while one apologizes to Steve. I won’t let you cheat with one person apologizing and thinking it counts for all three of you.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, Will’s my favorite.”

Dustin looked devastated. “I’ll go first.”

Will nodded and followed Steve and Dustin to the kitchen and Mike and Nancy went to wait in the front room.

Dustin sat on the bar stool at the counter and Steve got him a soda. Will leaned up against the sink and watched.

Dustin wrapped his hands around it and sighed. “I didn’t know anyone had given you a shovel talk because when we talked about you and Eddie I thought it was just a joke. And I thought, ‘hey I should tell Steve to go easy on Eddie after the bats because he was still healing’ you know. I didn’t realize that you had taken to me that I didn’t trust you with Eddie, honest!”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “All right so maybe yours wasn’t a shovel talk, but you can see why I might think it was, right?”

Dustin nodded. “You’re a good friend, Steve. And I know we don’t tell you enough, but we really do love you.”

Steve pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin cried. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Steve looked over at Will who gave him the thumbs up. Dustin’s was a miscommunication on both their parts.

Dustin exited the kitchen and Nancy came in. She spotted Will standing at the sink and turned to Steve.

“I would rather he not be here for this,” she said, her tone clipped.

“And I would rather have not gotten several shovel talks that took an intervention from your boyfriend to get you people to realize you’d hurt me,” Steve replied. “But here we are.”

She pursed her lips and Will raised an eyebrow at her daring her to press the issue farther.

Nancy decided to take the high road and ignore Will instead. “It was wrong of me to threaten you with my gun collection. I realize that you and Eddie are adults that can make their own decisions.”

Steve and Will looked at each other in disbelief.

“What?” she asked.

“That wasn’t an apology,” Will said.

“I admitted to being wrong,” Nancy said with a frown. “That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, right?”

Steve sighed. And that right there was why they never would have worked. “You’re supposed to be sorry that you hurt my feelings, but I’m getting the impression that you aren’t.”

Nancy sighed. “Your feelings were only hurt because there were so many of them. If it was only me or me and a couple of others, you’d be fine.”

“What?!” Will squawked. “That’s not the point!”

“Nance,” Jonathan said from the doorway. They all turned and looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. “This isn’t what we talked about and you know it.”

Nancy looked defeated. She turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry about how I treated you. For all of it. Not just the shovel talk thing. You’re a good person. You deserved better than me and when you got him, I was jealous. Of course I love Jonathan.” She turned to him. “I do!” She turned back to Steve. “But you and Eddie have something so special and...” she threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know.”

“So you gave me the shovel talk about not hurting Eddie,” Steve said, “because you were jealous that I was able to find someone better than you?”

“That makes me sound like a horrible person,” she whispered.

“It really does,” Will agreed.

Nancy crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “I just wanted you realize how special what you have with Eddie is. And instead of talking to you like an actual adult, I threatened you instead. That was wrong and I am sorry. You don’t deserve it.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug, too. “I think this is why we would have never worked out, Nance. I love you and I think I always will. But sometimes you get lost in your head and let it do all the talking. Which means the people around you get hurt.”

She nodded. “I just want people to hear me that I forget they have feelings, too.”

“Just remember that,” he murmured, “and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay...” she said softly.

Steve gave Nancy a squeeze and then let her go.

Jonathan turned to Will. “El’s here, too. Why don’t you go keep her from murdering Nancy and Dustin while I handle the next one?”

Will wavered and then nodded, following Nancy out to the front room.

Steve watched him go with a frown. “What was that about?”

And then Mike walked in and Steve’s eyes went wide and he mouthed, ‘Oh.’

Mike stood there between Jonathan and Steve looking at the ground and Steve was struck by how much alike the two Wheeler siblings were.

“This should be by far the most interesting of the apologies,” Steve said. “Whatcha got, Wheeler?”

Mike looked up at him a little stunned. “At the meeting...intervention? Fuck I don’t know what to call it. But Jonathan said something that stuck with me. That you haven’t been that stuck up prick in years.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Jonathan who just shrugged.

“And it got me thinking,” Mike continued. “Why am I so hostile to you? Because you dated Nancy? But that doesn’t makes sense because I don’t treat Jonathan that way.”

“Did you find an answer?” Steve asked.

Mike shook his head. “And that’s when I realized that I was doing it out of habit.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Being a dick was a habit?”

“Being a dick to you was a habit,” Mike corrected. “And that’s not right. Holding a grudge for something you did so long ago and getting mad at you when you said it bothered you? That’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Steve said softly.

Mike cocked his head. “True, but that doesn’t mean I have to actively make it worse.”

Steve nodded appreciatively. “Also true.”

Mike stood up straighter and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. But I also was only joking about Eddie. For me it wasn’t serious, but hearing that everyone had given you the shovel talk? Holy shit, man, that wasn’t right. The reason I thought it was a joke was because anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with Eddie knows he doesn’t take shit from anyone. If anyone was going to bury you for being a dick to him, it would be Eddie himself.”

Jonathan and Steve glanced at each other and nodded.

“But after I heard that everyone else had done it and meant it?” Mike continued. “Yeah, that was bullshit. So I’m sorry it got out of hand. I’m sorry if my joke added to your suffering. Because I never meant it hurt. Honest.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I see where you’re coming from and I accept your apology.”

Mike stood there awkwardly tugging at his shirt hem. “Can I get a hug, too?”

Steve smiled and stepped up to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike sighed and leaned into the hug. He didn’t return the hug, but just stood there enjoying the warmth.

After a few moments, he took a step back and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He sniffled and then turned to Jonathan. “You won’t tell Nancy about this, will you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Steve nodded. “I’m not going to tell anyone shit, man.”

Mike relaxed. “Right. Thanks.”

And he shuffled back to the front room, still sniffling.

“That was certainly something,” Jonathan said after a moment.

Steve chuckled shaking his head. “Those Wheeler kids, whew.”

Jonathan laughed. “Happy to have dodged that bullet?”

“You have no idea, man,” Steve said. “You have no idea.”

***

Part Five Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #jonathan and steve are friends #ladykailtiha writes

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jarofstyles · 10 months

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Reaper 10

Reaper is a dark story with dark and mature subject matter. 18+ NSFW

A shorter but very important update. Finally heading closer to the meat of the story hehe

Check out our Patreon for exclusive writing and early access!

wc: 6.6k

warnings: violence, rage, reaper on the edge of it all

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“Good fuckin’ riddance.” Harry spit onto the body, life slowly draining from his veins as he bled out on the floor. “Piece of shit.”

Since the guy thought it was ok to sell people, to own and control their lives, Harry thought it was fitting that he had no control over what happened to him in the end. Cutting off each finger and toe, beating him, a few levels of torture. It wouldn’t make up for the lives he had stolen, the innocents that he had killed in the process, but it was some sort of revenge.

“Clean this shit up.” He barked at one of his brothers, giving another disgusted glance at the soon to be corpse before stalking out the door. His hands were bloody and bruised but he felt a tiny hint of relief. Getting rid of scum always did feel good in a weird way. One less person who would harm people who didn’t deserve it off of the earth. He liked to think of himself as an exterminator of sorts.

“Where’s Bunny?” He grunted as he kicked the basement door shut, seeing Viper at the bar playing cards with Wiz. Cigarettes hung from their mouths as they turned to look at him.

“Kitchen. May want to wash the blood off your hands before you see her. Look like a horror villain.”

Harry was too far gone just fresh off a kill, any consideration he had for his look at the minute was non existent. All he knew was he needed to see his Bunny if he wanted to get out of this headspace anytime soon.

The past week and a half had been busy to say the least. With no signs of the stalker, he and his brothers buckled down on finding the last of the scum involved in Mia’s case. It took lots of convincing, but Bunny was safe and protected by his brothers. They were all afraid of what would happen to them had she not come home in one piece.

The Reaper had been all the more violent and impulsive ever since the stalker appeared. His brothers had all noticed. Viper’s solution was to keep him on killing duty, hoping it would take the edge off like it usually did. It seemed that his feelings for Bunny went much deeper than any of them could imagine.

Harry pushed open the door to the kitchen with his elbow, immediately feeling his muscles relax at the sight of his girl.

“Okay so, we just want to make sure we gently tap them— so when they lift in the oven they have that little foot.” Bunny was teaching Mia how to make macaroons. Strawberry and cream ones.

His back relaxed slightly when he heard her soft spoken instructions, his body tuning into her voice. He didn’t say anything yet, going to the sink as he felt her eyes on him.

She didn’t deserve bloody hands on her. She needed clean and soft hands with tender touches right now. His exhale was slow, trying to shift himself out of the rage induced fog.

There was a reason people called him the Reaper. It wasn’t unknown. He turned off. He turned into someone else when he was there. The red brain space. He turned off a lot of his emotions besides the ones needed to get him through, the ones usually consisting of anger, rage, bitterness, aggression.

Shaking the water off his hands, he grabbed a paper towel and began to wipe his hands free of water, the jerky movements alerting Y/N to his mood.

“One second, Mia.” She said quietly, patting her back. Mia knew how the score went, nodding as she turned to mind her business. She knew better than to get involved with Reaper’s business. Everyone should.

Approaching with caution, Bunny placed her hand on his lower back first not wanting to startle him in this state. It always seemed off, his energy changed completely and radiated off of him like a thunder cloud looming over his head.

“Hi Baby,” She turned on her charm, resting her head against his back a little bit to ground him. It was better for her not to look at the blood that was being washed off into the sink, it was hard not to notice the smell though.

“Mia and I are making macaroons, we already made a batch if you wanna taste one, I can bring it to you.” She wanted to go along with things as normal, try and remind him of how things were when he wasn’t in this headspace.

“Or if you want we can go to our room and snuggle.”

She was always gentle with him in this headspace. It was a little scary at first but Harry wouldn’t hurt her. That was something she knew without a shadow of a doubt. Especially when she felt him relax a little bit with her hand rubbing over his back.

Her eyes looked over his shirt and noticed it was fairly clean, except for a few specks of blood on the hem. It was a weird feeling, to think that the man who was so damn tender with her had just moments ago, been violently ending a life. And that his first instinct was to go back to her.

“Room.” He grumbled, turning around once he was sure his hands were clean and taking her face into his palms. Y/N felt the damp, cool fingers on her skin and gave him a pretty smile, searching his eyes.

They were dark. Different. It always seemed to happen like this. 3 times this past week and some days, he has sought her out after she pretended to not know what he was doing and found her doing something mundane, peeling her away from the friends she had made here to keep her close and breathe in her scent.

He ignored Mia’s presence, leaning down to capture her lips in a hard kiss. He wasn’t shy about it, turning her around and tucking her into the corner of the room while he kissed her roughly. Fully. Bunny knew he wasn’t fully out of the weird, almost animalistic face and she was ok with that. She just wanted him to calm down eventually, and she enjoyed that she was the person that had that power.

He pulled back and kissed her again, sliding his hands under her shirt and caressed the hot skin of her lower back. It was grounding to him, feeling her smooth flesh and the softness of her curves, the sweetness of her mouth and taste testing prior batches. She smelled like the baked good and hints of her shampoo. He wanted to bathe in it. “M’so angry.” He admitted against her lips. “Want to fucking…” He huffed, resting his head against hers. “I don’t regret it, Bunny. I’ll keep killing those fuckers. I’m going to keep doing it and I’m going to keep coming back upstairs to wash my hands and find you after.”

He warned her. “I should terrify you.”

“You don’t.” She wasn’t lying. He didn’t scare her, maybe a little, but only because she could tell it wasn’t him. Was it dangerous for her to believe that she was the only one to get him to calm down? Would her luck run out one day? It was something she tried not to think about too much. She preferred to believe him and their feelings for one another.

“It’s just what you do… I understand, you aren’t like that with me. Why would I be afraid?” She asked the question that was never really meant to be answered. Instead she moved to press another kiss to his lips, her hands wrapping around his wrists to hold them comfortably.

“Come on, let’s go. We can watch a documentary about sea lions.” After their little trip to Vegas they’d been watching a lot of animal planet. Something about the animals also calmed him down.

“Let me just tell Mia.” She would have to fend for herself with the macaroons. She only had to let them bake off and cool off now. The filling was the easy part.

Harry leaned against the doorway as he watched her go to inform Mia when he heard his name being called from the front room. It was Kid, he knew, but he wasn’t sure what the fuck he wanted.

“What?” He snapped, stalking through the kitchen with irritation obvious on his face until he saw the red envelope he held in his hand. “What the fuck is that?”

Though in his stomach, he had a sick feeling. He already knew.

“It’s addressed to you.” He said quietly. “To Reaper. It was stuck in the gate, someone shoved it up between the bars. I saw it on my way in.” The envelope was snatched over quickly, Harry’s anger boiled again heavily in his stomach.

What the actual fuck?

“Funny, you think you can keep her hidden from me. I see her everyday.”

Harry was just about to snap when he noticed the back of the note felt a lot like a photograph. To his own horror, there were photos of her in the parking lot on a few desperate occasions this week. His Bunny, oblivious and stunning as ever, on her way back to this place this fucker has now made his way to.

Any ounce of solace he’d found in Y/N’s touch a few moments ago had drained from his body, replaced by a new, much more sinister rage. Without much thought, Harry slammed his fist against the nearest flat surface which just so happened to be the kitchen door.

Kid took a step back immediately, trying not to flinch at the flying pieces of wood now scattered across the floor.

The room went silent, nothing but Harry’s heavy breathing and the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

“That’s it!” Reaper was here in full force, not even noticing the blood gushing from his knuckles. “I’m going to butcher this rat. I swear to fuck no one better stop me, I will end his entire blood line so help me god.” His breathing was heavy, teeth grinding against one another.

Bunny stood speechless, not really sure what to do in this situation. She wasn’t even sure what he was yelling about until she noticed the envelope.

He’d found them?

“Reaper.” Viper barked as he watched Harry go towards the door. “He isn’t out there. He wouldn’t be. Don’t go shooting into the road.” He had watched as Harry took the gun from his back holster and held it in his hand, the rage shaking through him.

This place wasn’t easy to find. But obviously, whoever the creep was, didn’t just fuck around. It was making Harry angry. Yes- it had been their idea to poke the bull, but it only made him more upset now knowing the lengths he would go. The disregard he had for his life meant that was the same for his thoughts on Bunny’s- he didn’t care. He was insane.

If he had any clue what Harry belonged to, what his name meant, the rumors and whispers, he would know better. Obviously he lacked sanity for the fact he was stalking someone to begin with but after all the warnings, after all the attempted scare offs… he was still at it.

“He’s watching her. He’s at her school. He’s insane.” He shook his hand in the air, the gun waving around. The safety was on- Bunny was in the room. “I’m going to lose it.”

“I know, brother. I know.”

“No! None of you caught someone taking photos?” He hissed, looking around the room as he raised the weapon. “None of you saw a fucking camera?”

“Obviously not. Put down the gun.” Viper ordered. “Your girl is in the room. Put it down.” He said it lowly, the twitch in his hand and the reminder making him listen.

“I’m taking her away from here for a while. We’re fucking leaving. Make sure someone is at her mom’s place. Nowhere is fucking safe around here.” He hissed, turning to Bunny. “Go get your stuff. We’re going somewhere away from here. Wiz- get us on a fucking plane and someone go get me fakes to get out of here. I just-” He ran his bloodied hand through his hair, not even feeling the pain with the anger that made him burn. “How the fuck did he find us here? There’s a gate inside a gate.”

Bunny took this time to approach him once again, setting her hand on his back as she always did and tried her best to stay calm. She needed to be calm for him. All she wanted was for him to come with her, but it seemed like Viper wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Let me clean up your hand and I’ll go pack.” She spoke in a gentle and level tone, reaching for his bloodied hand without hesitation. It hurt her to see him like this, so angry and distraught because he couldn’t do anything about it. He was trying his hardest, she could see it. She wished she was able to help more.

Viper looked at her in warning, obviously worried about her safety. He didn’t know how they were in private, she felt like he had no right to command her. She knew what she was getting herself into. Bunny looked from Harry’s hand to Viper with a small pout, hoping he would let her do this.

“Follow me.” Viper let out a sigh, leading Bunny towards their in house infirmary. She made sure to keep an eye on Harry, rubbing his skin to soothe him the best that she could. He was still heaving, she could see the cogs turning in his head.

He was like a live wire.

Bunny watched his face carefully, not afraid of him but afraid of what he may do. It felt like the last few days he had been like a dog pacing in its cage, but this was a whole other level.

His jaw was clenched and his breathing was heavy, but his face had turned stone cold. His eyes? They were dark. Hot. Livid. She was treading with caution.

He was on another planet right now. He was in protector and killer mode at the same time and it was killing him. Reaper wasn’t one to run away from conflict in any capacity. Harry, however? He just wanted to keep Bunny safe. That was his goal, always. Her safety.

“You okay to be alone?” Viper asked Bunny. He didn’t want to offend Reaper but he also took her safety seriously.

“Yes, I’m okay. He won’t hurt me.” Bunny repeated once again, knowing it would only be worse if they were to separate the two of them. If they wanted Harry to calm down in any capacity, removing her was the worst they could do.

Viper eyed the two of them for a moment, facing an internal battle. He couldn’t live with himself if he let Reaper hurt her, but for some reason, he trusted her.

“I’m going to help Wiz sort out your trip. When you’re done here just meet me in my office.” Viper spoke calmly, giving her a look as if to say ‘be careful’. The metal door made a quiet crashing sound as he left, leaving the two of them alone.

The bright overhead lighting of the infirmary wasn't creating the most soothing atmosphere, but Bunny tried her best to be the softness Harry needed as she guided him to sit on the bed.

Her hands delicately pushed his hair away from his face and behind his ears, watching his snarling expression carefully.

“Can I get the first aid kit?” Her words were gentle, not wanting to leave her stop from between his legs if he wasn’t ready. She knew her body was something that kept him grounded and she didn’t want to irritate him.

He simply nodded.

It felt better in the quiet. No music, no nothing but the gentle touch of Bunny.

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny.

He had to keep her safe. The rage bubbled again before it ebbed, her hand stroking over his arm as she returned with the kit. He wasn’t worried about the split knuckles or the throbbing he felt in his hand. He had a high pain tolerance for as long as he could remember, but he felt a bit bad under all the anger about her life being disrupted. That he couldn’t just be… a normal protector. That he had to worry about snapping.

He’d always had a bad temper, but this sort of anger was new. He hadn’t cared too much about anything else for a long time. Now that he cared so much for her that it felt like she was injected into his damn blood, he felt out of control. Not having control over finding this guy was making him feel certifiably crazy. He’d never been sane, mind you, but he even knew it was bad now.

His thoughts lingered on how he had never wanted to take someone out more. The person who caused all of this shit, who made it unsafe for her to even be alone in the places she had grown and loved. The places she learned.

“Baby?” She whispered softly in an attempt to get his attention, gently starting to wipe off the dried blood as she disinfected the open wound. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna,” Bunny cooed, “just come back to me.”

She let the hand holding his caress his skin in a form of comfort, using tweezers to get the splinters out from under his skin.

“You’re very angry, I know… I can imagine how frustrating it is— you are doing everything you can.” She wasn’t sure if her words would be of any help, but she wanted to say them anyway. “You’ll get him, I know you will. But for now, we are here.”

A small hiss came from her as she watched the peroxide bubbling over the wound. He didn’t even blink. It made her heartache seeing him so empty and drained.

Harry watched as she began to wrap his hand with gauze, turning it a bit to make things easier for her. He’d never had someone handle him with such care in this state. It baffled him to think she wasn’t afraid. How could she be so brave? To trust him when he didn’t trust himself.

“All done.” Bunny smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the bandaged hand. She didn’t expect him to speak, she was waiting patiently till he was ready.

He sighed, looking over her face. She was so fucking good. A little damn angel plopped into hell and he had to be the one to protect her. He’s never experienced such a panic in his life. Self doubt that he would be able to keep her safe.

It fucked him up considering this was supposed to be the safest place. That someone could get by without being noticed was a tell to some sort of skill. Wiz was an incredible guy when it came to security and electronics. He had either blocked the alarms or there was some sort of rat.

He couldn’t trust most of these people right now. While he definitely felt guilt for that considering he knew 99% of them were on his side, there was a possibility someone wasn’t. And he wouldn’t chance that.

“Damn it.” He snarled. “You… I should be taking care of you.” His face showed irritation and instead of backing up, she repeated the soft action of brushing his long hair back out of his face that had fallen out of his low bun. “I’m supposed to take care of you and you’re here… fucking bandaging me up. Being so fucking sweet. “

“Is that so wrong?” She asked confused, “Think I wouldn’t be taking care of you if this wasn’t happening?” Of course she would be. Bunny enjoyed caring for him and providing a little bit of peace in his very rough and heavy lifestyle.

To think he’d ever imagine it as a burden, as if life wouldn’t have thrown something else wretched and horrid her way had it not been this.

“You are taking care of me. I’m here and I’m safe.” Bunny tried her shot at getting him to see things from her perspective. “You need me right now, that’s okay… I’m right here.” It had almost become natural for her to tend to his anger before she began to process her own feelings. She didn’t think it would help to dwell on the idea of someone watching her, she was already paranoid enough as it was.

“I want to help this feeling, I know I can’t, but please… you have to let me.”

He growled in frustration. It was almost infuriating how sweet and understanding she was because it was his problem. He felt like he was making shit even harder.

“I just… I feel like all I fucking do is drag you down. This was supposed to scare him away.” He stood up, walking away from her. He needed to breathe, to pace for a minute. “This shit was supposed to protect you. And I made it worse.”

He tugged at his hair, his bad hand throbbing at the action. He really was wanting to pull his hair out. A woman like Bunny didn’t belong in this decrepit, dangerous place and yet he had dragged her down. There was no way out of it either, not without the guy being dead.

All he knew was that he had access to the school area, was good at technology, was lanky and tall and was a little bitch. A creep. He hated him more than he had hated anyone else because he had no regard for Bunny. It was obvious at this point.

“I need to take you away; like a fucking coward. I’m running away but I don’t give a fuck. We need a break. You need to be somewhere you feel safe. You think I don’t see it?” He asked, approaching her again.

“You think I don’t see when you disappear inside your head and you try your best to just pretend like you’re fine? I see right through it. You’re not processing any of this shit of whatever it is you’re supposed to do. And I’m worried. I’m worried about you, mentally, physically, emotionally.”

He was right.

She hadn’t been processing it properly, but she was in distress and though he was blaming himself for making it worse, who knows what would have happened if he continued? It was just like Bunny to divert the conversation though. It seems Harry wasn’t having it today. He stopped her before she could speak.

“You know I’m right about that. Bun, listen, I’m not in a good fucking space right now. I don’t even know how I’m talking to you cause I’m my head I just want to tear this place to shreds. I need you to tell me if I’m stepping over the line, cause you’re being so fucking sweet— I don’t deserve that!” He shook his head, the last line coming out a bit louder than he’d anticipated. She could only shake her head at him.

“Harry— I’m trying to deal with it how I can. We both are. It hasn’t really hit me these past few times, I haven’t been letting it. I just know I won’t be able to keep going on with my life if I think about it too much. You know I’m in my head because I’m trying to self soothe… there is no answer to these feelings, they fucking suck. I know. This guy is fucking crazy. He could have done worse if you didn’t get involved. Who knows? The what ifs are killing me. Please don’t blame yourself for any of this. It’s not your fault.”

He swallowed thickly, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room before he dropped his hands, letting them smack against his sides.

Fuck.

He didn’t mean to explode on her. It’s the last thing she needed. She didn’t need his shit on top of everything else but he was so… so fucking scared. He didn’t like the idea of her getting hurt. He didn’t like that she wasn’t communicating it with him.

“Can you please just tell me… tell me about it when it does come up? When you feel like it’s too much?” Harry was well fucking aware he wasn’t the easiest to talk to. He wasn’t. He was intimidating and easily irritated and he had tried to build a wall between them in the past. It would be understandable why she would be hesitant before but now? Now he was doting on her.

He wished she trusted him.

“It is my fault. You shouldn’t even be in this position. I wish you had been able to fucking trust me enough when it first started happening so you could have told me. I know that it’s my fault you didn’t. It isn’t your fault at all.” He huffed, walking back to her. “I don’t deserve your sweetness . I was supposed to look out for you when Sterling left and now look at this shit.”

He felt like he had failed. He had failed her.

She was trying her best to stay level headed, trying not to blame things on herself for not telling him sooner. Seeing him like this was making her emotional, she didn’t want him to be so stressed.

“I’ll try, I promise.” Bunny said with a small sigh, “It’s hard for me in general. It's not that I don’t want to tell you these things, it’s just hard for me.” Y/N swallowed thickly, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “I didn’t think not telling you would come to this… I would have told you right away.”

Bunny snaked her arms around him in a hug, squeezing his body to hers, listening closely to his heart beat. She kept her head there for a few moments, relaxing as she felt the weight on his hand cradling the back of her head.

They were a mess. The both of them. Harry knew that this wasn’t exactly healthy- nothing with him probably would be- but he didn’t have it in him to stop his indulgence for her comfort.

He couldn’t keep himself from pulling her as tightly as he could to her body, exhaling heavily as he pressed a few kisses to her head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m fucking sorry for all of this shit.”

The hoarseness of his voice caught her off guard. His anger was still there but he was still being soft with her. That was the difference. He never lifted a hand meant to harm her. Never. He never would.

“It’s okay. We’re going on a trip and we can just… we can try and forget about this for a little bit.” She whispered against his shirt. “Just pretend to be normal for a bit. I don’t even know where we’re going but I’m going to be safe with you. Maybe we can feel ok when we get away.” Her choice was muffled against the fabric but he heard it.

“I will do my best, baby.” He mumbled against her hair. “Don’t think it’ll ever be normal with us again.”

-————-

“Okay everything you need is here. For the time being, you are Ryder and Kitty Davidson.” Wiz spoke as he placed the documents on the table. “I got you rings as well, congratulations.” He winked trying to make light of the situation.

“You’re flying First class to London. Your flight is in about 4 hours so you should get heading to the airport as soon as possible.” He continued, looking up at Viper to confirm the details. The two of them thoroughly planned this trip to ensure their safety.

“I’ve booked you in indefinitely at the Londoner hotel. It’s very central with high security. They know you want your privacy and for their reputations sake they won’t fuck up. If you want to change locations, I trust Reaper knows his way around better than me.” Wiz let himself trail off as he tried to remember anything else he might be missing.

“I’ve arranged to have a car pick you up under the name Davidson. It’s one of our own so no need to worry. He’s returning a small favor.” Viper added, checking his phone for any other updates before looking at the two of them.

“We’re going to have some decoy cars leave first. One is going to Reaper’s place, one will be going to your Mom’s, and the third out of town.” Viper explained the plan, “We’re leaving through the underground exit in a completely different vehicle. All you have to do is finish up with packing and we’ll be on our way.”

Bunny was still amazed at some of the things the club was able to do. There were a lot of whispers about the things they were a part of from the normal people, the people around the town. But based on their assumptions, no one would have realized they had this sort of money.

Harry had explained they had eggs in a bunch of baskets, some legal and some… not so much. That meant an influx of cash and places to launder it through.

She knew if this was any other time,she would be asking tons of questions. Why? How? What? But right now she was putting her trust in Harry and the guys of the Devil’s Keepers. Viper and Wiz had always shown up for her since she met them and it was a welcome thing to have.

“Thanks for putting this together.” He nodded at Wiz, taking the folder from him. “We will call you when we land with the burners.”

“I’ll be prepared for a thick cockney accent.” Wiz joked, making him snort. Yeah, right. He was more of a Manchester and London hybrid but that wouldn’t make sense to him. Harry’s accent had thinned since being here as a teenager but he knew that it would thicken the moment he stepped back there. It usually got stronger when he talked to his mum on the phone, so he could imagine how easily he was going to fall into it later.

Bunny had never been out of the country before, this was something completely new. The thought of it was actually exciting if she ignored the whole point of the trip. The running away from a stalker bit.

Harry had always talked about his life in London, with a fondness she really saw in him elsewhere. It was as if he wondered what his life could have been had he been dealt a different hand. It seemed like his life there wasn’t that fruitful, but his returns to the country had always been pleasant.

“You packed warm, yeah baby?” He asked quietly, his Reaper persona taking a step back now that they had a plan. In all honesty, he was relaxed because he knew his way around London better than any man. He swore it. No one would want to willingly go to his ends. That he was sure of.

“We’ll get you more clothes.” He spoke without even listening to her response, he had a feeling there was nothing warm in her duffle here in Vegas. Poor girl was in for wind and rain and clouds.

“We will?” She quirked her brow. “And just how will I do that?”

“M’gonna buy you some. You need jumpers and jackets. The only one you packed was one of mine.” He gave her a slight look but it was in jest. He liked her in his clothes. The black jumper with slightly frayed sleeves tended to be her favorite and he wasn’t going to tell her no. Thankfully he had been able to grab some warmer clothes but not too much. He’d need to shop as well.

“Well, I did want to buy some stuff.” She admitted, leaning her head against his arm while she looked into his duffel bag. “You know the cool shopping places in London? Not the designer ones but hole in the wall shops?” She liked to buy stuff that was unique, but she didn’t have the chance too often here. Her slip dresses were a staple but she did want to get some good jeans in London.

It was definitely a way of coping. Y/N knew that eventually she wouldn’t be able to push the fact that this trip was to evade danger from the back of her mind anymore. She would have to accept it at some point. But god damn, did she want to pretend it was just a trip with her… boyfriend? Lover? Whatever they actually were.

“I think so.” It’s been a few years since I’ve been there.” The last time he had traveled back was 3 years ago, briefly. Only 2 weeks to get some things settled. He hadn’t been back since. “We’ll have to see. Things change rather quickly, but I found a place last time when I ruined my trousers.” He replied, zipping up the duffle bag.

“All right, Sniper say we are all set to go. If you have everything, let’s get to the car. No time to waste.” Viper was a bit on edge himself, not having expected someone to find the clubhouse. Nonetheless, he had no intention of letting Harry know he was worried. He needed Reaper to have a break. As much as they needed him, for all of their sakes, it was better he went.

The sound of their footsteps against wet cement echoed as the four of them descended down to the tunnels. They had a few for safety reasons. They had a bunker, a few rooms where most of their dodgy business took place. Killing and disposal and what not. Towards the end though was a garage full of three cars with the exact same plates. One was red, one was black, and one was white.

“Take your pick bun.” Viper decided to make light of the situation. These cars were all clean. For the most part. They were mostly used for situations like these, getaways for safety. The plates changed after every use so they couldn’t be tracked. They cycled through wrapping them in different colors. It was all to keep things as anonymous as possible.

Bunny went for the white one. The red would get attention, the black was an obvious inconspicuous choice, but the white was a medium level. Harry was quiet for the most part now, helping her in and waving to Mia. She was playing decoy. Her hood was up and it was obvious she was a woman but the tinted windows would hide some of her features, making it easy to confuse the both of them.

“Thank you.” He said quietly to her. Despite not talking to her much he appreciated even the slightly risk she put herself in for Y/N’s sake.

He got into the car with her, placing his hand on her thigh immediately. Y/N noticed this was something he did subconsciously. He didn’t even really seem to think about it. Every time he sat down next to her or drove with her, his hand would rest on her leg. Squeeze or rub or just rest still, he liked having a hand on her.

Her hand rested on top of his with a sigh, fiddling with his anatomical heart ring. He had a few he switched around but he rarely took this one off lately. It was chunky and large but it suited his hand, bruised knuckles and all. Her cheek rested against his arm, trying to let go of her nerves.

“S’okay.” He comforted quietly. “We’re getting a break from this. Maybe the guy will get tired of it. If he doesn’t… we’ll come back rested enough to finally get him.”

Harry was exceedingly exhausted. His eyes were heavy all day but he couldn’t sleep. Nervous about her, about the freak breaking in somehow, someway, and hurting her. It plagued him like a nasty sore that wouldn’t heal.

Wanting to keep the stalker off their trail meant that Viper and Wiz had to stay low profile. The guy would recognize the two of them and they didn’t want to risk it. Instead, he had other members who had not been seen with Bunny to drive all three cars.

“Be safe, yeah?” Viper nodded at the two of them from outside the window. “Have fun, little rabbit. Enjoy it.” The words were tender as they fell from his mouth. He wanted nothing more than for her to enjoy her time away from all of this. To have a bit of freedom again.

Bunny gave him a small smile and nod, watching as he gave Harry a small fist bump before their window was rolled back up. The sound of roaring engines soon filled the space, each car making their way out. They had a few come out the front as well, this creepy wouldn’t know what was coming.

She didn’t dare to speak up as they traveled down through the long, narrow, and dark tunnel. It seemed like it kept going and going. She wasn’t sure how it got there, but she was starting to think she shouldn’t ask.

Instead she snuggled further against Harry in the back seat, continuing to dig her face fully into him. It seemed his scent was able to do something to keep her calm since she couldn’t exactly wrap herself in his bedsheets anymore.

Harry didn’t like not being the one driving but he has to make that sort of sacrifice today. It wasn’t too big of a deal though, considering Bunny was nearly burrowed into him.

Harry, before her, wasn’t a fan of physical touch at all. He took his partners from behind, making them hold whatever was in front of them so they didn’t touch him. He barely kissed, barely allowed them to do a thing besides suck him off or spread their legs for him. It was very willing people, too, but still. He wasn’t a warm and fuzzy person. He would peels hands off of him and step back to avoid hugs or touches, keeping it hand handshakes for most, or a back pat or two.

That’s partially why it was so weird for him that he felt so grounded when Bunny touched him. The comfort that he felt when she would brush his fingers with her own or press a tiny kiss to his hand, leaning against him. His own body seeking her out for it. That had shocked him and made him feel incredibly out of place once he stepped back from it. The good thing though, was he didn’t hate it.

If anything he fell into it more and more each day. Initiating more and more like a nosy little puppy, chaste and gentle touches like fingers under shirts playing with her bracelets or adjusting the hair in her face . It felt a bit pathetic he wanted to touch her every day, if he was being honest. He’d also never felt so good with it. Her fingers tangled with his own little kisses that didn’t lead to anything other than a smile.

He was fucked. A goner. He had become well and truly soft, obsessed, possessive, enamored with the girl he definitely shouldn’t. Sterling is still going to beat his ass, and Harry is going to let him.

It was worth it.

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