#she did nothing wrong ever in her entire life!!
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Break Ups and Make Ups
Jason Todd x reader
Synopsis: Jason breaks up with you to keep you safe only to get saved by you a few weeks later.
Warnings: Mentions of blood, Jason being angsty
Word Count: 3233
Jason couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in a bed that felt too large and dreamed of futures he lost from his grasp. Every night was the same. He’d spend his energy patrolling to forget you, drag himself through his apartment, and then come to the realization that he was entirely alone the second the AC hit in the face. What made him even angrier was that it wasn’t even your fault, not entirely at least. To Jason, you were the epitome of perfection and had done nothing wrong. You were meant to be protected at all costs and Jason was sure that he could never protect you when you were with him. Every body he saw, every victim of Gotham he encountered had your face. Maybe it was a fragment of his delusion that caused him to worry so intensely, but to him, it came out of a place of real possibility.
That’s why he broke it off with you when things started getting serious. All he really remembers from that day was you screaming something he doesn’t remember (or tries to forget) at him and telling him to leave. It was the worst day of his life, and he would have died a thousand times over again to avoid it ever happening. He’d never seen you so upset before and hated that it was because of him. Every night, this was what he saw before he fell asleep, and once sleep had finally taken over there was no rest from his regret. He’d dream of all the futures you could have had together, bringing newborns home from the hospital, you, walking down the aisle with tears flowing from everyone’s eyes, and the endless possibilities of bliss that he threw away that night.
That was what was keeping Jason up last night. He was exhausted, struggling to stay awake as the cycle of regret repeated every time he shut his eyes.
“You alright Jaybird?” Dick asked, standing in the mirror adjusting his tie.
“Fine.” Jason gruffed in response.
Jason was sitting in one of the many armchairs in the manor staring at the window, brooding. Usually, he’d hear your laughter with the girls from down the hallway, joking about whatever appealed to them at the time. Tonight was different and all he heard were the voices of his sisters, sometimes bringing you up, lamenting the loss of your presence.
“Do you think she’ll show up eventually?” Steph asked, “I mean she kind of has to for press.”
“I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t” Jason heard Barbra reply, causing him to cringe.
He was in the wrong for breaking it off with you. Jason saw that now, regretting the pride that came in with thinking it was only up to him to keep you safe, or that you couldn’t play some part in it. To your credit, you’d survived Gotham for so many years before meeting him, even as a socialite. Why did he think it would be any different?
“You know, it would be worth just talking to her.” Dick said, “If that’s what you’re brooding over. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re brooding over.” Dick said.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Yea, not really, but you’re acting like you’ve been tossing up the idea of swan diving off Gotham Bridge.” Dick chided, “So maybe you should talk to her. Sounds like she didn’t want to break up anyways, so you’d probably have a chance.”
“She’d kill me.” Jason replied coldly.
Dick didn’t say anything in response, but Jason knew what he was thinking, “Yeah, and right now, you’d deserve it.”
When the car pulled up to the carpet at the front of the gala, it was all Jason could do to not sink and melt into the floor. There would be plenty of questions from reporters asking where you were. It had been three weeks since he dumped you and the internet had been stirring.
“Just walk past them.” Dick said, “And don’t beat anyone”
“No promises.” Jason answered, stepping out of the car, and giving his hand to Cassandra to help her out.
Cass nodded at him giving him enough signal of, “I’ll walk with you.”
Reporters and fans shouted at the family. Jason wished that anyone else was the center of attention, but instead all the questions were centered around his relationship with you.
“Where’s Y/N?”
“Are you and Y/N still dating?”
“Why haven’t we seen you together?”
Bruce managed to shove in front of Vikki Vale to protect Jason from her invasive questions and everyone else made their way inside. The lights of the flashing cameras faded through the crowd inside the gala. Jason felt like all eyes were on him. It was one of the first times that he felt like hiding in a corner, wrapped up in a ball at one of these events. Women with hair overdone and plunging V-neck dresses approached him, assuming that he was no longer off the table. It’s not like they cared when we still dating you whether it was appropriate to hit on him.
If you were here, you two would be making fun of everyone here acting like they were on top of the world instead of the true trash of Gotham, but you weren’t, and now he was awkwardly standing next to Dick ignoring the conversation he was engaged in. Jason was pretty sure they were talking about something related to Wayne Enterprises, but he focused on the bitter cold at his side where you were meant to be on his arm. You’d be making some comment about an increase in recent sales for some company WE were working with, and he’d be staring at you wondering how he got so lucky. Now he stares at the floor wondering how he got so stupid.
“Dude, you look like a dog that just got its favorite toy taken.” Dick said once the person he was talking to left.
Jason left out a gruff in response. He didn’t have a response to that. Instead, Jason was counting down the minutes until he could leave and go crash in his apartment, though, he wasn’t sure that would be any better. Twirling a toothpick from some fancy snack he just endured, he thought about what he’d do if he tried to make it up with you.
“Seriously, go home, take a shower, and call her.” Dick urged, “We all know she liked you; you’re just going to have to explain a few things.”
“She probably hates me.” Jason answered, running his hand across his face, “I can’t blame her though.”
“Maybe she hates you, but maybe she’s just waiting for you to get your head out of your butt.”
Before Jason could respond to that, he heard glass shattering in the building and gun shots echoing. He looked towards Bruce, trying to gage whether they would spring into action. Bruce was busy ushering guests out of the building and not paying too much attention to where everyone else was. Dick and Jason ducked for cover, trying to see where the shots were being fired from. As they scanned the room, they saw a dark gas creeping towards the table where they were situated and there was nowhere to run.
“Tim’s still on the mission with his team.” Dick said
“Can’t blow our cover.” Jason responded, “Isn’t there that new vigilante running around town that Bruce has been trying to pretend he isn’t working with?”
“And you think that will help?” Dick snorted,
“You’re right. We’re screwed.”
You were currently speeding through the streets of Gotham, riding at full speed towards the hotel where the gala was tonight. Bruce had asked you to avoid it since all the others were on a mission or at the gala. It was a precaution he had in place just in case something happened. You were still bitter about what happened with Jason. He was an idiot. Jason thought you had no idea of his persona as Red Hood. He had no idea that you were the recent vigilante in Gotham, Batman took in for your skills. Here you thought Jason would be a better detective.
Flying towards the police lights, you pulled your bike near Gordon’s patrol car and jumped off, helmet in hand.
“What do you have?” You asked.
“We’re waiting for Batman.” Gordon replied, “Hostages have been released other than the Waynes.”
“Batman’s not coming.” You countered, “He’s on a mission with the League.”
“He never told me about that.”
“You think he’d tell you about a classified mission with the League?” You lied, “I’m all you have, so get over it.”
“You really are with the Bat.” Gordon sighed, “Bane sent his men to capture the Waynes and is demanding a ransom of $1 billion.”
“He does realize that most of that is kept in separate investments, right?” You mumbled.
“Apparently he doesn’t” “He’s got them in an east river warehouse and will begin executions at 12am. First one to go is Jason Todd.”
You looked at the time blaring on his phone, beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead, “Two hours.”
“Surely he doesn’t think we could retrieve $1 billion in two hours.” Gordon responded.
“I don’t care what he thinks as long as you convince him that the money is coming.” You said, “I’ll recover the Waynes.” “Keep him ignorant, it’s our best option.”
The drive felt like hours even though it was thirty minutes through the traffic. All the while you were thinking about what Gordon said, “First to go is Jason Todd.” You were still upset with him, but that didn’t negate the fac that you loved him. Jason breaking it off with you felt like someone tore your soul out of you. You were pretty sure once you explained everything to him, he’d understand, but you didn’t have the energy to track him down and convince him to listen to you. Serving around a slower driver, you sped onto the side road that led straight into the warehouses. Bane has a usual point of operation here that you were sure he was staking out in. He wasn’t the most intelligent guy on the block, but it was too risky for the special ops team to come flying into the building with such a threat.
You haphazardly parked your bike and sprinted towards the warehouse you knew they’d be in. The comm in your ear began buzzing and you clicked the button to turn on the feed.
“He’s about to start executing.” Gordon said.
“What? There’s still an hour and a half left?” You whisper yelled, “Did your men screw it up?”
“Haven’t found out yet, Bane has demanded that the time be dropped.” “Are you in there?”
“Almost, how much time do I have?”
“Fifteen minutes.” Gordon replied.
“When I knock him out, I expect that you put him in the most uncomfortable cell in Black Gate.”
“Without a second thought.” Gordon said, confidence lacing his voice.
There were 10 guards outside the warehouse heavily armed. Bane must have been juiced up which meant he was more confident in not needing security, just someone to collect the money and bring it inside. If you were on your own, you’d probably kill them all and let GCPD handle it, but you were in Batman’s turf and had to respect his bounds. Instead, you opted to tranquilize them and leave the clean-up to GCPD to save time.
“I’ve got 10 unconscious out front, make sure they’re in cars before they wake up.” You said, “Don’t come in with sirens and lights on.” “I’m going in”
“Understood.” Gordon responded quickly.
Going to the roof, you looked a window down to see Bane dragging Jason with a bag over his head, to the front of a room where a camera was. There was one other man with a mask on holding a rifle pointed to where Jason was now kneeling. He ripped the bag off Jason’s head to show reveal him with a busted lip and a fresh bruise appearing on his jaw. He must have said something that rubbed one of the recruits the wrong way. Your heart began to race as you watched in horror. With your boot, you kicked the glass once and watched as the shards fell to the ground. From below, Jason heard the crashing of the glass and didn’t look up in case it was falling on him. A loud pop echoed through the building and the sound of metal hitting the floor sounded in his ears. Another shot was fired and after a few seconds, the man standing behind him stumbled backwards and finally fell.
With the immediate threat to Jason neutralized, you jumped down, landing on Bane’s shoulders.
“You picked the wrong day Bane. I’m not in the mood” you said.
“I’ll kill you all!” He screamed, reaching his arms around his back, trying to grab you off him.
“Is that the most intelligent thing you can think of right now, big guy?” You laughed.
Reaching into your utility belt, you pulled out a large knife and positioned to cut into the tubes that pumped his venom. Before you could do that, Bane reached around and grabbed your leg. With a grunt you were thrown to the ground but recovered quickly. Jumping back up, you ran towards him, launching yourself in the air to kick his jaw. A tooth flew past you and blood began to run out of his mouth. These were the moments you were grateful for steel-toed boots. Bane stumbled for a moment before regaining his strength and barreling towards you. You ran back from him, giving yourself space and leading him to a place where you could get back on top of him. He started reaching his arms back again causing you to glide your knife over his arm. Blood was drawn again, and he recoiled in pain. Taking this opportunity, you ran the knife through the pipes, venom spewing out everywhere. He fell back right as you flung yourself off him and out of his reach. Quickly, his muscles started constricting and falling back into their regular form. It was a disgusting sight to and you found yourself grimacing at the sight.
In the commotion of it all, you weren’t aware that the camera had knocked over. Bruce and Dick were still sitting patiently, waiting for you to uncuff them.
“Target neutralized, I’ll bring out the Waynes and Bane.” You said into the comm.
“Got it, ETA five minutes.” Gordon answered
You grabbed the keys that were hanging on the wall next to where Bane had been standing and began to uncuff Bruce and Dick.
“You always manage to get yourself into trouble, don’t you?” You asked, a smirk evident in your voice despite your mask.
“You know it.” Dick said.
“Thanks for the rescue.” Bruce stood up as you helped Dick off the floor, “We can drag Bane out. It seems you’ve got some explaining to do.”
Jason was sitting and staring at the wall, contemplating his life. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you could bet it was something about being glad he broke it off with you after something like this happening. You watched for a minute as Bruce and Dick dragged Bane out of the room, giving you two a moment.
“Jason.” You said, trying to get him to turn around.
“You gonna uncuff me?” He asked.
“I was getting there.” You knelt behind him and unlocked the cuff.
The clank of metal quietly rang out. An awkward silence fell, and you weren’t sure what to do so instead you started assessing injuries. You moved to kneel in front of him and examined his lip and the bruise that was getting darker by the second.
“Anything feel broken?” you asked.
“No.” He moved away from your touch, something that hurt your heart, “Who even are you? Batman’s new recruit?”
“Jason- do you?” You huffed and began to pull off your mask, “You’re an idiot.”
Once you had your mask off, he started at you, lost for words. So many emotions ran through his eyes, confusion and then realization being the two most prominent ones.
“Y/N?” He asked bewildered, “How did you keep this from me?”
“I figured you knew, Red Hood.” You said, tucking your mask under your arm.
“You knew about that?”
“You’re not very inconspicuous about it, Jason.” You laughed, “I mean every time patrol ended, Red Hood would head in the direction of your apartment and then you’d drop by thirty minutes later after taken a shower and typically with some sort of wound dressing. Plus, it helps that I went to the cave a few times.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, hurt lingering in his voice.
“I realized you probably didn’t know anything about it and planned to talk to you about it but you kind of dumped me before I got the chance.” Your smile faded and was instead replaced with a stoic look. Jason knew you were upset, “What do you think I was yelling at you for?”
“I thought you were just yelling because you were mad.” He answered, shame now replacing his look of hurt.
“Yeah, I’m pissed with you. I feel like you thought I can’t handle myself, even if you didn’t mean to come across that way. I was trying to get you to stop so we could talk about it. You were bound to get in and get out.” Tears began swelling in your eyes and you quickly wiped them away.
“Y/N I’m so sorry.” He said.
“Yea, so am I.” Your head hung low for a second before you picked yourself back up, not wanting to break down in front of Jason right now.
“No, it’s not your fault.” Jason grabbed your hands, “This has been the worst few weeks of my entire life. I can’t live without you. Day and night, you’re the only thing I think of. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything right now. I’d rather die a thousand times over than not have you.”
At this point you started crying and Jason grabbed you, pulling you into his chest. You cried into his suit that was already ruined by the dirt and tears from tonight. He was crying to, no matter how much he didn’t want to be.
“I’m so, so sorry Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I just thought this was best for you. I didn’t want you ending up hurt or dead or- I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”
“Jason” You laughed through tears, “I’m a Gotham CEO, I was already unsafe by myself.”
“I didn’t think about that.” He said, making you laugh more.
“Do you think you’d have me back?” Jason asked, a now solemn look coming across his face.
“Yes, absolutely.”
Jason pulled you into a kiss that felt like it lasted forever and once it was over, he rested his head in the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply.
“I missed you so much.” He said.
“I did too.”
Jason’s family was going to be ecstatic about this. They probably weren’t going to let him live down you realizing he was Red Hood before he realized you were a vigilante.
#dc x reader#dc comics#dc characters#batfam x reader#batboys x reader#batfam#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader fluff#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood x y/n#red hood imagine#jason todd imagine
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Hi! next part of Snow White + Tangled AU (still taking suggestions for a name, I'll probably end up writing a whole fic)
Alastor was losing his patience.
He never really cared about the "King of Hell", but ever since the little man arrived at the doors of Charlie's hotel, it's just been one disappointment after another.
And, of course, he trusts Roo not to give him valuable information! It's always the same with her, she will only give you enough information to work with, only to punish you if she doesn't like the results, or take credit if you somehow end up doing exactly what she wanted.
At least Charlie wasn't a relevant project for her. But it really would have been useful to know her origins, he could have gotten a lot out of that information. Anyway, it's not that that's important now, he's not going to be bitter about it. After all, so far the results of his decision have been satisfactory.
Honestly, there was a time when he thought Roo could be Charlie's mother, but he ruled it out as time went by. It's a relief, motherhood isn't for everyone, and Roo definitely shouldn't be on that list...just like Queen Lilith apparently.
The first time he saw the king was interesting, he tried to attack him as soon as he saw him after a brief conversation with Charlie. It was so fun to see his daughter putting the little man in his place. But then she explained who she had just kicked out of the hotel and it was just disappointment after disappointment.
In their second meeting, the king was no longer going directly to try to kill him, but that did not make him any less calm. He just kept accusing him of Charlie's kidnapping, which is fair, the king doesn't have to believe him and he doesn't have to justify himself.
He suggested to Charlie that, when the king returned with the supposed evidence he had gone to look for, it should be just her and the king. Charlie was just worried that this situation would change something between them, but he dismissed it, nothing has to change.
From that moment on, Alastor's patience has been tested. The king turned out to be like all the rich men of his time, buying people with trinkets, trying to dazzle everyone with their wealth and power, pampering their legitimate children and only throwing a few coins to their bastards if they remembered that they had.
Alastor has kept his distance. Not only does he want to respect Charlie's limits and her possible relationship with her biological father, he also wants to show her that, unlike the king, he can behave like an adult in this situation. On the other hand, the king, every time he sees him, has to make a conscious effort not to attack him either physically or verbally, and that makes Charlie nervous, which amuses Alastor a little, but mostly makes him uncomfortable. He knows that this whole situation makes Charlie tense, and the little king is not helping with his childish attitude (according to his height, honestly).
What ended his calm was seeing how the little king simply seemed to lose his patience just a couple of months later, dismissing Charlie's ideas and trying to take her away. Simply telling her that her whole idea of a charity hotel would be counterproductive because sinners would only take advantage of her, and anyway, it's not like sinners deserve better, they do horrible things after all, like kidnapping innocent babies and taking them away from them families.
And Alastor simply had enough. He doesn't really care what the king thinks of him, he doesn't want to meet him, and the feeling really is mutual at this point, but after all that talk, saying how much he missed his daughter, he hoped the king would take the time to meet to Charlie instead of just pretending like nothing had happened. As if Charlie had not spent almost 100 years, all of her life, living with sinners, as if she had not spent her entire life learning from him and from those who have surrounded her until now.
The king is not entirely wrong, many of those in hell deserve to be there, it is supposed to be punishment for their decisions, in fact, there are those who deserve worse, but he cannot just so easily dismiss the ideals that Charlie formed by seeing sinners up close.
And, of course, he is not a good person, he has never pretended otherwise. In fact, if he had found any other sinner the day he found Charlie, he would have put them in an oven with the same ease that he put Charlie in her crib every night. If he had found any other sinners, he would have boiled them in a saucepan with the same ease with which he put Charlie in the bathtub when she needed a bath. With any other sinner, he would have written a recipe book as easily as he wrote children's stories he remembered so he would have something suitable to read to Charlie. But the truth is that it was not just any other sinner, it was Charlie, a baby that he decided to take care of with the memories of his mother always in mind. The one he found in a basket was a baby, whom he accompanied, stayed by her side, held her when she screamed and cried because of a nightmare or a minor injury. Whom he educated and guided, who he encouraged to make her own decisions, who he taught how to be respected. Who he took to his friend Rosie to make sure she always had a safe place to go. Whom he watched from afar when she played with other children in the Cannibal Town square. Whom he saw grow up while being just as feared and respected as him by her own means. Who tried to defend him when someone who was his friend for 30 years betrayed him and tried to attack her, which immediately ended their friendship.
It is when he feels the presence of his daughter, hugging him from behind, that he realizes that he said all that out loud. It is when he realizes that the king is there, looking at him with a look that reveals confusion, surprise and horror. The king has not moved from his place next to the portal he opened when he tried to take Charlie, but he notices that he is shaking, while he seems to think of something to say.
Alastor sighs, regains his composure as he walks away from Charlie and approaches the king, and with a snap of his fingers he makes two thick books appear. They are copies of a photo album and a scrapbook. He also makes the basket in which Charlie came into his life appear, with the blanket and clothes included. He gives everything to the king and is firm when he tells him to take the time to get to know Charlie, to stop being a king (if he ever was one), to stop being a wallet and start being a father if it's what he really wants.
The king leaves without saying a word, with all the items held firmly in his arms. If among the pages of the books the king finds the note that told Alastor to take care of the baby, with a characteristic signature, well...no one can refute that Alastor could have simply forgotten that it was there.
Two weeks pass, and Alastor feels a chill down his spine, a chill that is supposed to be a caress, supposed to be a reward for a job well done. He's confused, but at least it didn't backfire on him.
A month passes for the king to appear again. He literally just appeared in Alastor's room, looking haggard, exhausted. Alastor supposes that he can let the impertinence slide just for the pleasure that such a pitiful image brings him.
"Can you tell me about my d...can you tell me about Charlie? Please?"
👀
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TW: obsessive behavior, talk about self harm, death, gore, blood, corpses, choking, talk about you being dead, bleeding, bro there's so much - MDNI
SUMMARY: A twisted boy with a twisted mind and a twisted love just for you ♡
CHARACTERS: Yandere x F!Reader
WORD COUNT: 841
𓉸ྀི Never EVER was Blake expecting to fall in love. At first sight too. He saw you and was instantly captured. My condolences, because with him in your life...it'll be turned upside down
𓉸ྀི You're his newest, recent hyperfixation, or better, obsession. Recent? Well, since he ever saw and read this short story in the internet, about death, killing, blood and guts, he was forever obsessed with it. Especially the graphic pictures that we're added for the "realism'. You see, one click on a link and a wrong turn can lead you down a dark alley filled with the darkest mysteries hold by internet. Hidden from those who would never dare step that far into an alley like this. Bit inviting and interesting to those curious enough to take a look...and forever be captivated.
𓉸ྀི with 12 year's old, exactly that happened. This weird 'dare' and a link went around school and of course 12 year olds are gonna jump on it like hungry wolves. His friend send him the link, he was dared to open it and take a look, but was to scared. So he send Blake the link also, so they can both take a look. Shared fear is only half the fear, right?
𓉸ྀི While his friend was throwinh up beside his bed, he kept scrolling. And scrolling...and scrolling. Weird...this doesn't affect him, at least not like his friend. Or how he thought it would. Everyone kept saying its gross, creepy and...twisted. Its odd that he, likes it.
𓉸ྀི His friend claimed he suddenly felt sick, so his mother picked him up. None of them wanted to raise suspicion of course...But the whole night long, Blake kept looking at the pictures over and over again, he read the story multiple times. He probably still knows it all word for word till this day. But what really captured his interest was that woman, how she looked in her own blood bath. Her guts hanging out, everywhere but inside her. Is this real? No it can't be right? No one would ever...
𓉸ྀི when he saw you, he saw that woman. You both look so similar. Maybe the eye color is a bit off, yours are a tiny bit darker but thats ok, you look just like her! Damn, even the hair!...he can't help but wonder if you would...no that's an unhealthy thought
𓉸ྀི he's 18 now, and for 5 years he was in the dark web looking for stories, pictures and videos like this to feed his constant hunger and need for more blood and gore. But he still knows, murder is wrong. But knowing is something else than doing. They both can go hand in hand, the only thing that's holding them both away from each other is the wall called self control.
𓉸ྀི He does have this wall, it just has multiple holes in it. Blake was no stranger to act on his impulsive thoughts. He cuts his arms sometimes when he wants to feel the pain or see the blood. He even tried the 'save way of cutting your wrist', the thrill of almost dying did send him over the edge....The research did help of course. He even tried choking himself, but that does not really do much for him unfortunately, there's nothing hot to it besides the bruises he left on his neck.
𓉸ྀི But right now the wall he trained to stand against the army of his running thoughts is about to crumble by just looking at you. You'd look so great in red, a deep dark red surrounding you...oozing out of y-no-! This is wrong-! He knows you're so so much more than a body, than a corpse. You have personality...damn you really look like you have a great personality.
𓉸ྀི...w-wait-you looked his way-! WHY ARE YOU SMILING AT HIM-! Was he looking at you this entire time?? Ugh, hes such a creep-! Yes, he knows he's one but he doesn't have to act like one to make it obvious- He's so weird, he doesn't deserve you, he would NEVER deserve you. The only thing that deserves him would be the maggots and the mould, eating his decomposed cadaver.
𓉸ྀི If it's not him, than it's definitely your smile that killed him right there and now, on spot. He's disgusting why are you looking like him. Why do you show interest. Why is he smiling back. And why does he really feel the need to hold you in his arms, and kiss you. A kiss that would probably be the beginning of cannibalism. Drag his mouth and theeth across your chest to taste your beating heart...if he thinks like this then living can be beautiful, and so are living things. I mean...you are most definitely beautiful. And you're alive.
𓉸ྀི But you'd be just as pretty dead, rotting and overcome with mould, having flys around you while your body drys out and sinks....but yeah you're maybe even a tiny bit more beautiful alive. (Much more but he can't say it just yet)
TAGLIST: @lucienbarkbark @hehothrowawayfae
#yandere x you#yandere male#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere#oc x reader#oc#Blake x reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#yandere x female reader
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Grey's Anatomy 12.07
Something Against You
#greysedit#gaedit#greysanatomyedit#april kepner#sarah drew#grey's anatomy#userlolo#mine#12x07#she did nothing wrong ever in her entire life!!
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Not to be That Guy but like.
Am I the only one that can't stop thinking about how Tianlang-Jun says about Luo Binghe that he pretends to be cold-hearted like his mother. The hint of fondness there, the heartache in that utterance.
Like it drives me absolutely insane. Imagining her putting on a front of strength, cold and driven and unrelenting. Why does TLJ say that about her. Did she secretly look for solutions that meant reconciling with demons instead of hurting them when her sect wasn't looking? (I wonder this because I feel like his weird fondness for SQQ would lowkey track if it's connected to the woman he once loved.) Did he mean that she was tasked with basically assassinating him and she fell in love with him instead (re: failed step one)? Did he mean that she was fond and doting in her own way (e.g. conceding he was attractive, paying for his exploits and humoring him)? Did he mean that, like LBH, she thought that power would be the thing to protect her--and that it was disguising a person who was deeply and privately wounded? All four????? I don't need sleep I need a n s w e r s
Did she know about the Huanhua Palace Master's skeevy ass intentions before she met TLJ? Or did those only come to significant light after she fell in love with TLJ? Is that why she never anticipated that level of betrayal, because initially she had no intention of being with anyone romantically? And HHPM just assumed she would be under his thumb forever?? Was she furious at her own indiscretion or did she try to use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip, a way to try to stop the immortals of Cang Qiong Mountain from attacking TLJ (plus the bonus of marriage entrapment no takesies backsies this is where LBH gets it from)? Did she try to use that claim on her to dissuade HHPM from his covetous advances, framing herself as tainted so that she could finally escape? Did she dream of a life by TLJ's side, far away from Cang Qiong Mountain?
Like. Literally every single permutation of what this could mean guts me to hell. Do you ever just cry about tianxi because I--[loud bawling noises]
#svsss#tianxi#tianlang jun#su xiyan#like this shit keeps me awake at night#i'm trying to put fic ideas together and every time i go back to that line i just#find myself trying to parse and hone out su xiyan's mannerisms/personality#zzl's descriptions help a great deal but i also love that they're limited in the sense that#1. zzl was clearly scared shitless of/disconcerted with her LMFAO#2. he was suspicious of her (as a cultivator fundamentally) and its fascinating that TLJ did not seem to share this suspicion at all#or one could argue tlj just didn't care beyond his attraction and glee being around her jkahglfdskjhsfkhjg#there is also the hilarious implication that part of what turned tlj on so much about sx is the fact that she could prbly kill him#tlj really said 'i love a woman who can and WILL kick my ass'#'none of that soft power seduction shit manhandle me or nothing'#like he always believed deep down--or at the very least wanted to believe--that she loved both him and lbh dearly#i'm not usually the fix-it fic type but the Way I Need To See Su Xiyan Destroy Huanhua Palace Master's Entire Life.#i just want sx and her boytoy to live happily ever after is that so wrong?#i also think of that person (im so sorry tumblr user i dont rmr who u are at the minute) that said there had to be trust between tlj and sx#because YES. ABSOLUTELY. I AGREE. AND I WANT IT FOR ME#don't mind me just the usual descent into madness anytime i think too hard about svsss#i need to outline damn you airplane and your refusal to expand on LBH's juicy ass backstory#ill never forgive the chinese (joke)
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people really do not know what they're talking about when it comes to Elizabeth Woodville's social status, huh?
#yes Elizabeth was without a doubt considered too low-born to be queen#no she was not a commoner and nobody actually called her that during her life (so I'm not sure why people are claiming that they did?)#Elizabeth's social status was not a problem in itself; it was a problem in the context of queenship and marrying into royalty#Context is important in this and for literally everything else when it comes to analyzing history. Any discussion is worthless without it.#obviously pop culture-esque articles claiming that she was 'a commoner who captured the king's heart' are wrong; she wasn't#But emphasizing that ACTUALLY she was part of the gentry with a well-born mother and just leaving it at that as some sort of “GOTCHA!”#is equally if not more irresponsible and entirely irrelevant to discussions of the actual time period we're studying.#Elizabeth *was* considered unworthy and unacceptable as queen precisely because of her lower social status#her father and brother had literally been derided as social-climbers by Salisbury Warwick and Edward himself just a few years earlier#the Woodvilles' marriage prospects clearly reflected their status (and 'place') in society: EW herself had first married a knight and all#siblings married within the gentry to people of a similar status. compare that to the prestigious marriages arranged after EW became queen#Elizabeth having a lower social status was not 'created' by propaganda against her; it fueled and shaped propaganda against her#that's a huge huge difference; it's irresponsible and silly to conflate the two as I've seen a recent tumblr post cavalierly do#like I said she was considered too low-born to be queen long before any of the propaganda Warwick Clarence or Richard put out against her#and the fact that Elizabeth was targeted on the basis of her social status was in itself novel and unprecedented#no queen before her was ever targeted in such a manner; Clearly Elizabeth was considered notably 'different' in that regard#(and was quite literally framed as the enemy and destroyer of 'the old royal blood of this realm' and all its actual 'inheritors' like..)#ngl this sort of discussion always leaves a bad taste in my mouth#because it's not like England and France (et all) are at war or consider each other mortal enemies in the 21st century#both are in fact western european imperialistic nations who've been nothing but a blight to the rest of the world including my own country#yet academic historians clearly have no problem contextualizing the xenophobia that medieval foreign queens faced as products of their time#and sympathizing with them accordingly (Eleanor of Provence; Joan of Navarre; Margaret of Anjou; etc)(at least by their own historians)#Nor were foreign queens the “worst” targets of xenophobia: that was their attendants or in times of war commoners or soldiers#who actually had to bear the brunt of English aggression#queens were ultimately protected and guaranteed at least a veneer of dignity and respect because of their royal status#yet once again historians and people have no problem contextualizing and understanding their difficulties regardless of all this#so what is the problem with contextualizing the classism *Elizabeth* faced and understanding *her* difficulties?#why is the prejudice against her constantly diminished & downplayed? (Ive never even seen any historian directly refer to it as 'classism')#after all it was *Elizabeth* who was more vulnerable than any queen before her due to her lack of powerful foreign or national support#and Elizabeth who faced a form of propaganda distinctly unprecedented for queens. it SHOULD be emphasized more.
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i didn’t even know it was possible to be garcia critical What she’s literally perfect
#everything she did wrong was not her fault love abby#character apologism is generally stupid but garcia has done nothing wrong ever in her entire life and i like her more than most real people#criminal minds#95#i just love her. plus size women need to win always
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eats her mask and doesn't break eye contact
Pricilla has never considered murder until today . She wants to bolt forward swinging , to grab the stupid fake and shove her into a box that’d be bolted twenty times over ... but she can’t . She just stands still , silently sobbing as her pride and joy is chomped to bits .
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Honestly being a jgy stan is cake compared to being a cytherea stan
#locked tomb stuff#cytherea did nothing wrong ever in her entire life#those kids had bad vibes#also she is the one tru ally if u think about it#she really only kills the heterosexuals#queen. shit.
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— THE WAY I LOVED YOU
pairing: theodore nott x reader
summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him
warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit
author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌
The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.
It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.
The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.
Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?
“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.
You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.
It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.
Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.
The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.
“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”
“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”
“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”
The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”
“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”
”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”
“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”
“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”
Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”
Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”
Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”
“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.
You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.
Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.
You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.
“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”
“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”
“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”
“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”
“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.
The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.
“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.
You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.
As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.
Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”
You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”
“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”
This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”
You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”
“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”
Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”
The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.
“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.
“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”
Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.
You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.
“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”
“JORDAN.”
“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”
Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.
Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”
Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.
Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”
“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”
Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”
Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.
“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”
“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”
“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.
Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”
“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”
Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”
You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”
Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.
“Theo, don’t you dare.”
He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.
“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”
The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”
Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”
“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”
You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”
Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.
You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.
Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.
You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.
Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”
This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.
Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.
Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”
Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”
© angelfic 2023.
#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott scenarios#theodore nott smut#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott imagines#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott
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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane
That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people
The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'
The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.
I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse
Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.
"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.
He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.
That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV
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The King's Reign
King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.
Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words
cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni
You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.
When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.
You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.
Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.
A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.
“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”
“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”
Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.
“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.
You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”
She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.
“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”
You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.
“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”
You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.
“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”
She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”
“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.
Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?
You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.
Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”
Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”
“Still do.”
“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”
“King Steve.”
“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”
You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.
“Please, Yn.”
Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.
“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.
“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”
“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.
“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”
Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.
Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.
You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.
You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.
You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.
But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.
Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”
“Sure.”
“No.”
The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.
“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.
The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.
“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.
Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.
“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”
“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.
“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.
“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”
You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.
At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.
“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”
The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.
Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.
“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.
Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”
Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.
“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”
The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.
He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.
He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.
“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.
She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.
“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.
“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.
You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.
The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.
What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.
You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.
You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.
“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Steve!”
“Whaaat?”
Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.
“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.
“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.
“Steve…”
Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.
Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.
You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.
“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.
He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.
“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.
You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?
“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”
Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.
“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.
“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.
“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”
You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.
“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.
“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.
“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”
His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.
She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.
Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”
You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.
Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.
He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.
He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.
After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.
Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.
You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”
The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.
Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.
As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.
“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”
She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.
“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.
“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.
“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.
“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.
You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.
You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.
You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.
“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”
“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.
“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.
“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”
You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.
You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”
Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."
“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.
“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”
“You know.”
He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.
“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.
You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.
“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”
Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.
His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.
“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”
Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.
“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”
He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.
A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.
“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.
Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.
You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.
Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.
You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.
“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”
You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.
You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”
Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.
It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?
Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.
Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.
“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.
“Huh?”
He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.
“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”
Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.
“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.
He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.
His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.
He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.
Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.
“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.
He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.
Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.
This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.
His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.
“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.
You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”
The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.
Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.
His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.
“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.
“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.
You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.
“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.
He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.
You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.
Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.
“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.
Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.
His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.
“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”
“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.
"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.
"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.
The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.
As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.
"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.
His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.
"'M just getting started, my love."
He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.
It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.
Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.
Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.
His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.
"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.
"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.
A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.
His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.
He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.
"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.
His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.
"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.
His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.
"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."
You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.
"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."
Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.
"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.
"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.
"You're taking it so good, my love."
His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.
Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.
That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.
You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.
"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."
He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.
"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.
You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.
"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.
He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.
"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."
You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.
He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.
"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."
Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.
"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.
"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."
Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.
You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.
"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.
"Is that a promise?"
masterlist. requests and inbox are open.
#i can’t get over robin lately#so she’s gonna be the bestie in everything#i love her#my writing#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#fanfic#smut#steve harrington smut#enemies to lovers#dom steve harrington
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— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.
— CW: 18+ only !! cocaine use, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendo, strong language.
likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3
part one
3 days later…
RAFE
“So.. Let me get this straight. Your dad, and Y/N’s dad, have formed some kind of plan to merge both companies.. And you have to marry Y/N for it to be the most successful?”
I snort. Leave it to Topper to have to go over the scenario a hundred fucking times before it finally clicks in his thick skull. I ignore him, grabbing the rolled up hundred dollar bill off the glass table and place it under my right nostril. Leaning forward, i place the other end of the rolled bill at the end of the perfectly formed white line, sniffing up the substance before dropping the bill and flopping back into the soft, white couch. Fuck, I love the burn this shit leaves behind. The way it makes my body tingle, clearing my mind of any bullshit I don’t want to think about.
Topper tries ruining my high again. “Rafe. C’mon man, we have to talk about this. What’re you going to do?”
I sit up, my eyes narrowed into thin slits at him. “There’s nothing to fucking talk about, Top. My dad and her dad have already signed our lives away. I’m supposed to marry the stuck up bitch in less than a month. I don’t want to think about it, so drop it.”
Topper groans, but thankfully, he drops the subject. I don’t know what he expects me to say. I don’t want to marry her. Marriage is the last thing I pictured myself ever doing, but even if I had decided to settle down one day, start a family, it sure as Hell wouldn’t have been her I chose. Y/N Y/L/N is the bane of my existence, and my polar opposite.
Where I like to have fun, and am riddled with issues from head to toe — thanks dad — she’s boring. She doesn’t get out, and she is issue free. Her family didn’t fuck her life up like mine did — well, until now I guess — and she doesn’t even want to change her ways. She’s stuck in the mindset of being the perfect princess. My dad always praised her when we were growing up. “Be more like Y/N, Rafe.” “Why can’t you act like Y/N? She’s a good girl.” and my favorite line “I wish I had Y/N as a daughter instead of you as my fuck up son”.
I shake the thoughts to the back of my mind. The last thing I want to do right now is think of fucking Y/N Y/L/N and the fact that come this weekend, the entire island will know we’re getting married. That’ll really fuck up my chances with getting any pussy before this wedding. That’s another thing. The girls still a fucking virgin. I mean, who the fuck is still a virgin at twenty-one years old? Y/N fucking Y/L/N, that’s who.
“You have to admit though, she is hot. And she’s a virgin, how longs it been since you fucked a virgin?” Top says, amusement lacing his tone as he lightly punches at my shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “She’s not fucking hot, Topper. She’s a bitch.”
Lie.
Y/N is a lot of things, but unattractive isn’t one of them. I would be lying to myself if I said she wasn’t fucking gorgeous. But I’ll never admit that out loud.
“C’mon Rafe. Lighten up. Maybe it won’t be so bad”
I bark out a laugh at that. It’s going to be fucking miserable. A loveless marriage. Handcuffs that I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.
“Topper. Fucking drop it.”
He opens his mouth to speak but thankfully, Kelce comes barging through the front door. I quickly stand from the couch, making my way to my other best friend and mouthing a silent “thank you” to him for arriving when he did.
“Y’all ready?” Kelce asks, his eyes darting between Topper and I. Thankful for the intrusion and opportunity to drop this entire fucking subject, nod my head. “Let’s go”
-
The boys and I enter the Island Club. We come here quite often to just get drunk and forget about our shitty days. I am thankful for this tradition right about now. This whole marriage thing has had me stressed out for the last three days. I remember when Ward first came to me about it. He had told me that it was time for me to step up and do something good for the family.
“Son, a word?”
I roll my eyes, glancing at the girl laid beside me I tell her, “I’ll be right back”
My dad chuckles, his eyes glancing behind me and at the brunette that wears only my T-shirt and a pair of underwear. “Actually, you can get dressed and go. Rafe won’t be back up here until late tonight”
I roll my eyes, opening my mouth to protest, but my dad’s stern look has me quickly shutting my mouth. There’s never a point in arguing with Ward Cameron. He will win every single fucking time.
Turning to face Sofia, I give her a small smile. “Sorry, I’ll call you later”
She rolls her eyes but nods her head. She grabs her things from my floor before slipping on her white Nike tennis shoes and walking toward me. She positions all of her things in her left hand, her right palm pressed firmly against my chest as she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a long kiss to my lips.
My father clearing his throat has me pushing her back softly. “I’ll call you.” I say firmly. She turns and exits my room. Leaving me all alone with my dad.
“You won’t be calling her” He states.
My narrowed eyes find his. “And why is that?”
“Because, son. You’re about to step up and do something good for this family, and I won’t have you fucking it up by sleeping around with some bartender from the club.”
I scoff. “What’re you-” I begin to ask, but he cuts me off.
“You’re going to be marrying Y/N Y/L/N.” He says matter-of-factly.
“Rafe? You good bro?”
The sound of Kelce’s voice rips me from the memory. I slowly turn my head to face him, his dark brown eyes filled with slight concern.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Yeah. I’m good. Lets get fucking drunk”
Kelce and Topper nod their heads and begin making their way toward the bar. I follow them closely behind, but freeze in my tracks when I see her. Sofia. I never did call her, and it’s been three days since she was last in my room. I know she’s going freak out on me. If she doesn’t, i’ll be surprised.
I clear my throat and roll my neck before continuing my way up to the bar with my friends. I finally reach Kelce and Topper, they’re already ordering. “Rafe, whatcha drinking bro?” Kelce asks while looking behind his shoulder at me.
I open my mouth to speak but Sofia’s narrowed eyes landing on mine the second she hears my name has me clamping my mouth shut. I give her an awkward nod, debating on just leaving. That’s not who I am though, I don’t run away like a scared little bitch, so instead I order, “Whiskey. Neat.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’ll call me, huh? It’s been three days, Rafe. What the fuck?”
I hear Kelce and Topper snort out a laugh. I glare at the back of both their heads. I’m friends with fucking children. Turning my attention back to the short brunette, I sigh heavily. “Situations changed, Sofie.”
She scoffs at that. “Well, it would be nice to know that you had just planned on fucking me and never calling again. I wouldn’t have ever looked at you twice.”
Topper slings an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sure he would have called had he not found out later that day that’s he’s marrying Y/N Y/L-”
I throw my elbow into Topper’s side, making his arm fall from my shoulder as he groans in pain. “What the fuck was that for?” He demands.
I roll my eyes, and put my focus back on Sofia. “Look, like I said. Situations changed. I won’t apologize for not calling you, we never said it would be more than sex between us anyways”
Her mouth falls open and tears begin to well up in her chocolate brown eyes. I sigh. This is the thing about women. They always expect so much more than you’re willing to give. I never planned on having a relationship with Sofia, and she knows that. But now, I’m the bad guy because she was all but thrown out of my house and I never called.
She lifts her eyes toward the ceiling above her, blinking back her tears before her eyes find mine again. “Well, good to know. Let me get those drinks for you guys.”
I let out a deep exhale, turning to face Topper and Kelce. They both have shit eating grins on their faces. “What?” I snap.
Topper chuckles. “Nothing. You better hope she doesn’t spit in your drinks all night” He jokes.
I run a hand down my face. Tonight was supposed to help me unwind, not cause more fucking unwanted stress. “I never fed her lines of false hope, so I don’t know why she’s freaking the fuck out.”
Kelce chuckles this time, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t they all freak the fuck out when it comes to you? I mean c’mon Rafe. You can’t ever sleep with a girl without her expecting more.. I just hope you’re prepared for the long list that’s going to come for your throat when this engagement is announced.”
I sigh for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. He’s right. I have never been serious about any of the girls I slept with. They all wanted more, but every single time I felt they were getting to attached, I stopped calling or texting them. It was better that way. I didn’t want anything serious, and now, I’m being forced into something super serious. Fuck, my life really sucks doesn’t it?
“Here. Drink up, you need it.” I hear Kelce say. I turn to face him and he has his left hand extended toward me, my glass of whiskey in hand. I quickly snatch it from his grip and throw it back, downing the amber liquid in one gulp. Turning to face the bar, I slide the glass back toward Sofia. “Another.”
-
Two hours and multiple glasses of whiskey later, I’m drunk. The room sways a bit, and I reach my hand out to grip the patio railing. I hear Topper laugh from the right of me. “Dude, you’re fucking wasted.” He laughs out, placing his hand on my shoulder to help keep me upright.
“I- I am not wasted, Top. I’m just… Buzzed” I lie.
He opens his mouth to speak but he quickly slams it shut, the sound of his teeth clashing together has me turning my full attention on him. His brows are raised and his eyes look like they’re going to pop from his skull as he stares intently behind us.
“What the fuck are you looking at? You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” I joke. But he doesn’t laugh, and that makes me nervous. Topper laughs at the dumbest shit, so for him to remain staring behind us with a look of pure shock in his eyes, it has me wondering what just happened.
My body sways to the side as I try to turn and face the direction he’s looking, but his hand on my shoulder has me stopping in place.
I narrow my blue — possibly bloodshot — eyes on him. “What the fuck, Top. Speak!”
He clears his throat. “I- Uh.. Y/N just walked in with some of her friends.”
That has my attention. I quickly turn my body, falling forward a bit but catching myself with the help of the railing again. She stands at the bar. And she looks fucking delicious right now. For a girl who has never taken it past kissing a man — if she’s even kissed a man — she sure knows how to dress the part of any other girl on this island. She wears a black, leather skirt that hugs her curves and ass nicely. A tight, white cropped top and a pair of black heels that add a few inches to her height. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and all I can think of is wrapping my hand in it and pulling her head back as I fuck her from behind.
What the fuck? Why am I thinking of her like this? I fucking hate her. My soon to be wife. She’s a fucking stuck up, prude bitch. My mind tells me to stop staring, reminds me that I can’t fucking stand her. But my cock is screaming the complete opposite.
Without thinking, my legs begin to carry me toward her. I come to a stop right behind her, clearing my throat, causing her head to whip in my direction. The moment her eyes find mine, she’s rolling them. The act alone is fucking sexy. I picture her eyes rolling into the back of her head while my face is buried between her legs, devouring her sweet cunt. Fuck. Stop thinking of her like this Rafe, you’re just drunk, and horny. Any girl would do, but for some fucking reason, my mind is consumed with her.
“What the fuck do you want, Rafe” She sighs.
I smirk at the anger that radiates from her. “Just coming to say- just coming to say hey to my future wifeeee.” I slur. She rolls her eyes as they find mine again.
“You said hey, now run along. We don’t need to pretend to like each other right now.”
Maybe it’s just because I’m drunk, but her words stung. She really hates me doesn’t she? I mean, I hate her too. Don’t I? Yes, Rafe. She’s a stuck up bitch who acts like she’s better than everyone. But my drunken mind has me sighing as I say, “You really don’t like me, baby?”
Her body stiffens, eyes wide as she stares back at me. “I- Don’t call me that.”
I smirk. I have her worked up. Reaching out my left hand, I push a few strands of hair behind her ear before I run my fingers down the side of her face. She sucks in a shaky breath and flinches away from my touch.
“Rafe… Please just let me have a night out with my friends. In two days, we’re announcing to the entire island that we’re getting married, and I’d like to live the last two days of my life without you around… Lord knows I’m about to be stuck with you.”
My eyes narrow and I take a step toward her. You’re drunk, Rafe. Keep your cool. My large hands reach for her face, cupping her cheeks as I lower my face closer to hers. I don’t miss the way her chest rises and falls rapidly from my close proximity. She’s nervous. It’s going to be so much fun having her all to myself. Even if I hate her, pussy is pussy. And this is pussy that’s never been touched. She’s all mine to play with. To fuck. To break. To train. She’ll be my own personal whore by the time I’m done with her.
My glassy, blue eyes search her face. I half expect her to shove me away, and I’m so drunk I wouldn’t be able to fight back on it. But she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes find mine. That’s it, be strong baby girl. I like the tough girl act.
“Baby, you’re going to be crawling on your hands and knees begging for me to touch you. To kiss you. To please you. You can act like you hate me now, Lord knows I can’t stand you. But even I can admit, you’re fucking gorgeous. And I know you find me somewhat attractive.” I pause, placing my lips on the sensitive skin of her neck and leaving soft kisses, making her hiss in a breath. “I know this isn’t what either one of us wanted, but we have no choice… Why not enjoy the game?”
Her beautiful eyes narrow into slits and her lips thin. She blinks a few times before slapping my hands from her face. I stumble back a little, but catch myself on the bar, giving her a slow smirk.
“Fuck you, Rafe!” She hisses before grabbing her purse and storming off to the locker rooms.
I smile to myself as I watch her storm off. She’s mad now, but I meant what I said. She’ll be begging for more after I finally touch her. She can pretend now, and I’m not saying I’m falling for her. But Topper was right. She’s hot. Might as well enjoy the game and the perks, right? Letting out a small laugh, I turn and make my way back toward my friends, adjusting my hard cock that’s straining against my pants in the process. This is going to be fun.
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[[@else:
I suppose it's time to tell my abortion story. Of the abortion that didn't happen, that led to me.
A lot of anti-abortion people put words & thoughts into the mouths of the unborn.
Well, I'm one that was recommended to stay unborn, who got born, and here's what I say.
My mother found our very early in her pregnancy that there was an extremely high risk to her if she continued.
Terminating the pregnancy was floated by one of the doctors. It would have been legal due to the risk to her, but heavily stigmatized.
Her family was deeply Catholic. She was deeply Catholic.
She did not terminate. The risk became a reality.
So I'm here, and she's not.
I'm glad to be here.
It is hard to put into words the gratitude you feel to a mother who sacrificed herself entirely for you, and I'm not going to try here.
Because I'm also very angry.
Without in any way taking away from the courage and selflessness with which she bore her situation and which she showed in all aspects of her life
I don't believe she ever really felt like she had a true choice.
The stigma, the religious dogma, the judgement - everything she'd ever known - told her she could not save her own life.
Her parents would have, however sadly, believed she'd go to hell. Her family and friends and community would have judged her.
Everyone she'd ever loved believed it was wrong. And so she believed it was wrong.
Needlessly.
I don't know what choice she would have made if it had been a true choice.
Maybe she would have chosen me anyway. Maybe she would have chosen to stay for her two already-existing children and for all those who loved her so deeply.
But she should have had a real, true choice.
Would I trade being here for that?
In a heartbeat. Without hesitation.
My siblings could have grown up with their mother.
My grandparents could have seen their beloved daughter live out her beautiful life, instead of mourning her every day until their deaths.
Her brothers and sisters would not still thirty years later feel the pain of losing the sistre they loved so much.
She could have continued to bring the light to the world that she had always brought, that I have heard so much about.
My father perhaps would not have descended into the grief & guilt that destroyed him, our relationship with him, the innocence of our childhoods.
Now, I think about how my young nieces & nephews will grow up without her, without the kind of grandmother I had. That pains me too.
I grew up in the devastation of her death.
I've watched the consequences of it play out for thirty years.
I can see what might have been differently if she'd had a true choice and it snatches my breath away, to see the suffering that didn't have to be for the ones I love most.
I know that it is not my family, but it is also profoundly difficult to know that it is because of me.
Or to be more exact, because the world did not allow my mother her right to a true choice, and my being here is perhaps a result of that.
It's not a burden I'd wish on anyone
I wish that I could have told her. It's okay. Stay. Live. Be happy.
I wish I could know that she knew that that was more than ok.
Don't I want to be here? Don't I want to be alive, aren't I glad to live??
Now that I'm here, sure. But had I never been, what would I have lost? Nothing.
You can't miss what you never had. Can't lose anything when you never existed.
There's no pain or loss in not existing.
I didn't exist then, to want anything. I didn't exist to hope or wish or fear anything.
I didn't exist back then. Not me. There was a possibility. An idea, a hope maybe. Some cells, a process in her body. Not me, any more than a sperm was me or an egg was me.
*I" didn't become until much later. Til I was born.
My mother wouldn't have taken anything from me or cause me any pain by living for herself, because I didn't exist to lose anything.
There was so much pain, so much loss in losing her. Loss that will ripple down generations.
So I will say to my dying breath, as the person who only lives because she didn't abort, that whatever she thought or chose or did not chose, she should have had a real choice to abort.
That she should have felt that aborting me was valid and good a choice as not.
Everyone should feel that, and have real access to enact that choice without obstruction or shame or question.
Whether it is their actual life at risk, or not. A forced pregnancy can be the death of many things, not just the end of ther person's life.
Having me took away from the world everything that my mother could have given it.
Forcing someone to have a child against their will can take away what that person could be and bring if they had their choice, whether they live through the pregnancy or not.
Most of all it takes away their right - their inalienable right - to choose how they live their life in their own body.
A non-person, a hypothetical future event, the birth of someone who doesn't exist yet, doesn't have that right.
Other people, who claim to speak for the unborn do not have that right.
We all lose so much by it. It can cause such pain and suffering, for child-bearers, for children, for everyone.
Do not pretend to speak for the unborn.
Do not pretend to speak for the children born against their mother's will.
Do not pretend that you care for them while you hide misogyny behind dogma.
My mother deserved her right to a real choice.
Everyone does. Unconditionally.
As the child who could have been aborted, I tell you - to oppose that right, let alone work to criminalize it, is unforgivable.
I'd like to emphasize because I didn't say it loud enough in the original thread:
There doesn't need to be a tragic story or a threat to life to make abortion ok.
It can be simply because you don't want to have a child. That's all. You still have the right to a choice.
I told my sad story because:
a) it is important to me to counter the rhetoric of anti-choice folks, that claims that if the unborn could speak they would be anti-choice
b) forced pregnancies can really f*ck up lives in many ways and that needs to be recognized.
But:
There shouldn't have to be a tale of woe to justify bodily autonomy.
It's a right. An absolute right. It should be protected by law.
That's it. That's all.
Last thingL I want this point to be heard, but I don't particularly want to deal with blowing up on twitter.
I will probably lock my account down at some point, but I would like this still to be shared. Maybe use an unroll app and share from there if you would like to.]]
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Do you ever really think about what happened in The Resurrectionists?
Aziraphale spent that entire time trying to save Elspeth's soul from being damned to Hell.
Every questionable choice he made was done so because he was trying to help Elspeth and also trying to find new ways to decrease human suffering.
He was working really fucking hard to do his job, but he made mistakes along the way because he is constantly struggling with the knowledge that the rules become a lot more convoluted as life becomes more complicated.
Digging up bodies is wrong, but Elspeth was poor and acting in desperation to take care of herself and Wee Morag so they wouldn't have to continue living on the streets.
He is the one who encouraged her to dig up another body because he realized that Mister Dalrymple was trying to help teach those learning to become doctors so they could do better to decrease human suffering when it was their turn to help others.
He wasn't able to save Wee Morag after she was shot by a grave gun, and watched in dismay as Elspeth sold her body to Mister Dalrymple so she could get off the streets.
And when that didn't work the way she'd hoped, she decided that her life meant nothing anymore and decided she was better off dead.
Aziraphale had been spending that entire minisode trying to save Elspeth's soul from Hell, but he ultimately realizes that he made things worse even though he was trying so hard to do the right thing.
Heaven didn't care that he failed. Heaven has already said "we're the good guys, we're just not doing anything to stop the bad guys". Aziraphale was doing the job given to him by God. He made a mistake, but he thought he was doing the right thing because he cares about human souls. He still wants to protect humanity from Hell. That's literally his job.
Crowley saw someone digging up a body in the graveyard and immediately realized he didn't need to do anything.
Instead he watches.
He listens to Elspeth and finds it easier to sympathize with her plight because he's in the same boat in many ways. It doesn't matter what he does because he won't be able to climb his way out of Hell.
He listens to Aziraphale and he challenges the angel when he disagrees with some of the things he's saying.
He doesn't interfere with Elspeth or Aziraphale though.
The discussion that he and Aziraphale have with Mister Dalrymple teaches Crowley something just as much as it teaches Aziraphale.
Before he learns the reason that Mister Dalrymple cuts open dead bodies in the first place, he's cheering to the idea of more murder.
That tumor that Aziraphale hugs to his chest is just as much of a learning moment for Crowley. He hadn't considered why someone might have a good reason to cut up dead bodies, but Crowley and Aziraphale both love children and they both just learned that a child died with a tumor inside of him.
Crowley didn't realize anymore than Aziraphale did just how much danger Wee Morag and Elspeth were in from digging up bodies of rich people.
It was when Crowley saw that Elspeth was about to kill herself that he realized he could no longer sit back and do nothing.
As a demon, it should have been easier for Crowley to accept that Hell was winning another soul, but the truth is that the entire time Aziraphale was working so hard to save Elspeth's soul, Crowley was able to act as a spectator because she was already headed down the path towards Hell.
Crowley had just watched Aziraphale work so hard to save this human soul, this soul who had just lost the woman she loved who was wanting to end her own life so she could see Wee Morag again, and he realized he couldn't sit back and watch anymore. He knew Elspeth wouldn't see Wee Morag again if she killed herself because Hell cares just as little about how complicated human life is as Heaven does.
He used Aziraphale's money to bribe Elspeth into being properly good so she could go to Heaven. He saved her knowing that he was offering the win to Heaven just so she could see Wee Morag again.
It's important to remember that neither Heaven nor Hell give a single solitary fuck about humanity or the complications that arise as life becomes more problematic. Humanity exists within all shades of grey.
Heaven does nothing to stop Hell. Hell spends eternity torturing humans and other demons. Neither side is good. Neither side is ideal.
And in the end, Crowley did what he did because Aziraphale was doing the right thing by trying to save Elspeth's soul from eternal torment, something she doesn't deserve because she was simply trying to survive in a system that has always put poor people at a disadvantage. Aziraphale learned this too. He learned that there is no inherent virtue behind poverty.
To shades of grey.
#good omens#good omens meta#the resurrectionists#aziraphale#crowley#elspeth and wee morag#heaven and hell#shades of grey
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Not My Type
Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers
Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2
Summary: Bucky is dumb.
Warnings: Fatphobia.
A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭
Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.
“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.
“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.
“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.
You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.
“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.
You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.
You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.
“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.
Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.
You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.
“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.
You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”
“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”
“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”
“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.
An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.
“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.
You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.
When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.
You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.
Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.
He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.
“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.
Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.
“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.
“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.
You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”
He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.
“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.
“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.
“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.
You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.
You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.
He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.
Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.
A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.
#avengers fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#steve x reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#stucky x reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#plus size reader#steve rogers x plus size reader#halloween#steve rogers#avengers#mcu#fanfic#fanfiction#bucky fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky x you
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