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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC.

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future.

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field.

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe).

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.”

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all.

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat.

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab.

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?”

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly.

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder.

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes.

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things.

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused.

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen.

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general.

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies.

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face.

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day.

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way.

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips. When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping his bag a little tighter to him.

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.”

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?”

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away.

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk.

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.”

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent.

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable.

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional.

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence.

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading.

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time.

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.” He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him.

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply.

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away.

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could.

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond.

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?”

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space.

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen.

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you.

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office.

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt.

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat.

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention.

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same.

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer.

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.”

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line?

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you.

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before.

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face.

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again.

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist, and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now.

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat.

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed.

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?”

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind.

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day.

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?” You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him.

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands. Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands.

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night.

-X-

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nsharks · 4 months

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part seventeen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Ghost wasn't bluffing about the rain.

The next two days are spent with a punching bag under a neverending drizzle. Well, a duffle bag filled to the brim with who-knows-what, hanging from a tree as your skin smacks into it repeatedly and wet hair sticks to your neck. According to Ghost, you hit about as hard as Blue does, and there's no point in sparring until that changes.

He demonstrates before finding a comfortable tree to lean against and watch. The first few tries feel awkward until he reminds you to hold your stance. Once you dig your feet firmer into the mud, you start to catch on. You try to copy his movements. Knees, hands, elbows, feet. The rain soaks through the gauze on your hands, bunching it up, and the bag stings your unprotected fingers so much that your pinky starts to spasm.

You are struggling to hold the canister of water without wincing when Ghost appears behind you, grips your wrist, and says, "Why didn't you say anything?"

You pull away and tuck your hand to your breast. "It's not that bad."

His eyes sweep over the length of you before subtly narrowing. "You're bleeding. You should have said something."

When you glance at your fingers, you realize that he's right— the skin is split and oozing, but the rain waters the blood down to a light shade of pink. "Sorry, I guess. I didn't notice."

A callused finger reaches over to brush your knuckles before flipping your hand over, palm up, and tapping the heel of it. "Hit here from now on. It's less soft."

"Noted. Thanks."

Blue warms a bucket of water and soaks your hands that night. You listen to the sound of rain drumming against the plywood as you pray for it to stop by the morning, but of course, there's no one listening to you up there in the clouds because, by the time Ghost gets you up again, it's only gotten worse. Mist shrouds your ankles and the trees crackle and moan. He takes you back to the clearing and you know you won't be dealing with the duffle bag today.

"Let's see what you've learned."

He shucks off his jacket and you do the same despite the brisk temperature. Left in his shirt and sweatpants, the sheer size of him appears even more daunting. The black fabric soon becomes wet and sticks to his well-defined muscles, resembling a second skin. Ghost inclines his head and looks at you expectantly. Your heart races but you meet his stare, breathing deeply.

This time it's you who lunges first.

A swift kick to his ribs shoots the familiar burst of adrenaline through your veins.

The flicker of confidence makes you greedy and you try it again, but he wrenches your ankle away and twists you into submission, pulling you flush to his chest.

His breath hits your neck and warmth, not rain, prickles the skin. "She didn't hesitate. Good. But moves like that leave your stance vulnerable."

With a shove, you are released, and then he wipes the floor with you. Again. Everything turns into a blur of movement. The ground squelches beneath you. You try to focus more on offense, but the rain clumping your lashes and the way he darts so quickly makes that near impossible. Frustration builds in your chest the longer you two go at it. It is as if the past few days have done little to nothing.

A bruising blow to your stomach almost makes you slip, but he catches you by the sleeve and draws you close, leaving you face-to-face. His eyes burn a trail over your forehead down to your nose and lips as you pant heavily, then snap back up to yours.

"What happened to your confidence? Where is the girl who kneed my dick?"

You swallow and blink hard as you meet his thick gaze. "She's trying... but she's wet and can hardly see."

"Better than being dead." You place your hand atop his callused one and try to pry it off, but his grip tightens. "Stop holding back again."

Tension holds your teeth together. "Just because I wasn't a military sergeant like you doesn't mean I'm holding back."

"Lieutenant."

"What?"

"I was a lieutenant, not a sergeant."

"Does that change my point?"

His brow quirks and his hand drops. "You have quite the attitude when you're not scared of me."

The stinging air turns your cheeks pink. "I was never scared of you."

"Blue's next lesson should be teaching you to lie better.”

Something about his tone causes a twinge in your chest. You back up and ready your fists. "Oh... Is she good at that?"

He stalks you with slow steps that scuff over the mud. "Pretty good at it. Though, she forgets who her old man is sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"You think I didn't notice?"

Your mouth runs dry. Unspoken truths hang in the air; the antiseptic, the food she snuck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes roll to the side. "Relax. I would've killed you the moment I noticed if I wanted to."

"Why didn't you, then?"

A glint of—something—passes through his eyes. "Perhaps I thought you could be useful. Turns out I was right. Now—" He changes the subject. "Don't hold back or you can enjoy the shed tonight."

All the color drains from your face. "What? You... you can't do that."

"Why not?"

Your voice sharpens. "Because you made a fucking promise to me, Ghost. You said you keep your word."

His broad shoulders give a lazy shrug. "I do, but you thrive when you feel threatened. Thought you could use the motivation."

Anger curls your lips. "That doesn't mean you can just—"

Mud. Mud everywhere. Freezing, sticky mud cushions your fall as he hits you without warning. You gasp. A flash of a memory shoots through your spine; the way he pushed you to the ground that first time you met. The crack of your bow. The helplessness.

You ignore the ache as you push yourself to wobbling feet. It as if every hit from him makes itself known. Your anger deepens and you launch at him without thought, snarling. Your ankles hook around his torso as you grab hold of his wet shirt and cling to his back. One of your arms clamps over his neck and squeezes while the other blindly scratches at any piece of him you can find; his collarbones, the bridge of his nose, his scalp.

A few heartbeats pound before he throws you back into the mud. This time, he joins you. Salty sweat and the taste of coppery soil brush the seam of your mouth as you wrestle beneath him. It turns messy, your hair tangling with knots and pine needles, but you don't have it in you to care. You spit in his face and dig the heel of your boot into his back, riding up his shirt.

"Ah. There she is." His voice is rougher and only the slightest bit winded.

The fight you give is silenced when he pins your hips down with his and grabs one of your wrists. The other you quickly slip under your back, out of reach. Again, he has you pinned, and that pisses you off even more.

"Fuck you," you snap breathlessly. "Get off of me."

"Bold choice of words to say to your landlord."

The rain seems to fade into the background and all you can see—feel—is him. It should terrify you, the pressure of his body, but your mouth opens again on its own accord. "Bold choice getting me into this position again. I guess you don't want any more kids."

A sharp exhale leaves his nose and you think it might be his version of a laugh. "Thanks for reminding me." He brackets your knees with his, rendering them immobile. "Now what?"

Now what. The mix of adrenaline and anger rushes between your ears and that thing you've relied on to survive for so long—instinct—decides for you. Your free hand scoops mud and smashes it into his eyes, stealing his vision. The time it takes for him to wipe it away gives you a shot at his face and you take it without abandon, slamming your hand hard into his nose. You can practically hear the crack. Blood blooms through the white of his mask.

Your irises unfurl. "Shit. Ghost. I—"

He sits up and you scramble away on your butt. Like a tide, your emotions wash away and leave your face flushed. When he peels the balaclava over his nose, a trail of blood trickles down his lips and chin. He pinches the tip and flicks a clot of it to the ground.

"Is it— Did it break?"

He touches the bridge. "Minor."

"I'm..."

The uncontrollable shaking returns to your hands, snapping his gaze to them. "Did they open up?"

Confused, you glance at the red skin across your knuckles before shaking your head. "No. I... I used the heel. Like you said."

"Good." A grumble of thunder brings his eyes to the sky before he stands up, mask still hiked over the bloody lower half of his face. He offers you a hand. "Smart use of the environment. Think we're done here."

It takes a long moment before you place your hand in his. The energy has swept through your body, leaving you numb, and there are no more sharp words left to share. With the grey sky, it is impossible to tell the time, but you figure it must still be early morning because Blue is not awake by the time you and Ghost return.

He is equally as filthy as you. Dark earth cakes the entirety of his body. He swipes his boots outside and you wordlessly do the same before following him into the quiet cabin. Everything is still except for your heart. It struggles to find a normal pace again.

"Let me look at it," you offer quietly.

He doesn't object, taking a seat at the table. The only evidence that the physical activity has affected him is the uptick in heat that rolls off his body. You move clinically to stand between his knees and ignore the awkward feeling that settles in the silence. You feel strange after getting so worked up. Like you don't know how to act. If you were confused around him before, you are more so now, so you focus on what you do understand— that his nose is most definitely broken.

For the first time, it is you looking down at him.

"I'm going to touch it."

You will the trembling in your hands to stop and brush a fingertip along the bridge. His nose is strong. So is his jaw. An old scar indents the left of his mouth, deeper than the one on your brow. This isn't the first time you've seen part of his face— he does, in fact, have human needs like food and water—but the first time you've touched it. His skin is as warm as you remember. The tender swell in the bridge of his nose makes his eyes close for a moment.

"How's it feel?"

He throws your words back at you. "Just peachy."

"Right. Um, have you broken it before?"

"Of course."

"I'm sorry," you finally say, but he seems far from interested in your apology.

"Don't be. I said not to worry about hurting me."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I enjoy doing it."

"Liar." He calls you out in a soft murmur. "It felt good, didn't it?"

It... did. Possibly even cathartic. The release of emotions is not something you allow often, but hitting Ghost in the face mimicked the exertion of chopping wood only tenfold. Carefully, you nod. "A bit."

"More than a bit."

"Fine," you concede breathily. You avoid his eyes and look over at the wall. "It felt really good." There is a pause before you look at his nose again, clearing your throat. "It's minor enough to just let heal, right?"

His brows lower. "I thought you were the nurse here."

"Nursing student," you remind him, teeth grazing your lip. "I don't remember getting to this lecture."

"Fucking hell." He inhales deeply through his mouth, lowering the fabric back down, before saying, "Just go bathe, Twix."

"What about you?"

"I'll go after."

You nod but linger for a moment in his presence. "Ghost." Your fingers curl at your sides. "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever threaten me with something I have earned."

Making a demand of him is so utterly foreign to you that the words taste strange. The whites of his eyes slide up to yours and something you don't recognize passes through them. "Duly noted." His brows lift. "Don't hold back again."

You exhale. "I won't."

It is at this moment you notice the appearance of Blue in the hallway, still dressed in an oversized shirt that acts as her pajamas. She looks between the two of you, rubbing her eyes, before narrowing them and pointing an accusatory finger. "I told you guys to tell me when things got more interesting."

You repel from between his knees like a magnet, facing her.

"It wasn't that interesting. Don't worry."

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au

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imgae-insertshockedgasps-16 · 3 months

Text

humans are space orcs

imagine someone with chronic joint pain, whose dream their whole lives has been to go to space and meet the aliens and be a scientist and learn

so they look up the requirements as a kid and go "fuck."

they wouldn't make the cut.

their dreams are dashed. hopes ruined. lifelong dre destroyed.

except....

they've never really said a whole lot about their pain. they don't particularly like doctors, and they think that they've been managing just fine, so they never saw the point.

so maybe... maybe if they just don't say anything, they can make it to space.

they spend all of their time training. doing physical therapy exercises so that their joints aren't so loose, soaking up as much scientific and mathematical knowledge as they can, teaching themselves to push through the worst of it in pursuit of their dream.

and they make it.

they make it to space! it was gruelling, tortuous work, but they made it!

their first mission is an exploratory one, with a diverse crew which only has one other human.

they're thrilled.

they have dozens of alien friends and acquaintances. they spend hours learning and researching alien planets and cultures. it's everything they've ever wanted!

but

it's exhausting.

they're in more pain than they've ever been, more frequently than they ever have.

they keep up their exercises as best they can, but even those are often too much.

they smile when asked if they're alright, tell everyone that "i'm fine! just tired."

but they need a break. they can't imagine going or being sent back to earth, this is their home now, with these people, on this ship. but they don't know how much longer they can take this.

one day, on their day off, a fellow researcher comes and knocks on their door.

"are you here?"

"not today islith."

"but we've been called! there are some exciting new discoveries that need further cataloging and investigation, and carlmoth thought you would enjoy the task!"

"i can't today, islith."

"are you ill?"

"...kind of? but i'll be right as rain tomorrow. it's my day off anyhow."

"nonsense! you should go down to medbay!"

"i'm alright, i promise."

"you get out here right this minute or i'll report you to medbay myself!"

"no!" there's a series of crashes and thumps, and then they open the door.

"oh, you look awful. come on, you really must need medbay, what if you're contagious." islith tries to grab them but they shy away.

"i'm not contagious, i promise."

"how can you possibly know that? what if you picked it up from a sample, or, or, garfon has been sick recently! humans can't survive cerian sicknesses-"

"i didn't catch something from garfon, islith," they sigh and open the door wider. "come in and let me explain."

"alright, but if i think you should go to medbay afterwards then i'm taking you there."

"sure, islith."

islith enters, notices the piles of clothes, rumpled bedsheets, the lights are off and the port window shut.

"what's wrong?"

they sigh again, "my body doesn't work like it's meant to, islith."

islith is wildly alarmed, "and you said there was no need for medbay?!? come with me right now and-"

"no! i can't, islith, you don't understand."

"then explain it to me."

"i've... always been this way, although it's gotten worse as i've gotten older. my body, it just isn't built quite right, there's something wrong with it that makes it not work properly and hurt often."

"you're right, i don't understand. why can't you go to medbay?"

"i'd... be thrown off the ship."

"what?!?"

and so they tell islith a story about a young child whose dream was to touch the stars.

"and now, it's too late. i'd get in huge trouble for lying to the government, especially for so long."

"well- but- but humans are so resilient! you hear all the stories!"

"not every human is the same, islith. some of us are born disabled, and some of us get hurt in accidents, just like any other species."

"well, then, well there must be something we can do?"

they look up in shock, "we?"

"of course we, you ridiculous creature," islith said with a fond sigh. "you didn't think i'd leave you to suffer, would you?"

"but, you could get in so much trouble!"

"that's alright, i don't mind. what else are friends for? and, anyway, we don't have to tell your government, we can tell mine."

"but i'll-"

"we don't have any rules like that. any of us who are disabled can still manage in space just fine with the right support, and i bet you could too."

"i- islith- i don't-"

"don't worry, we'll all back you when it comes down to it. you're out teammate, our family. no one on this ship wants to watch you leave because of something you can't control. now come on, let's talk to glidlep in medical, she'll understand."

and for years, things continued on that way, until eventually it was an open secret that the human with the exosuit was disabled and not technically allowed onboard.

and down the line, when nasa found out and was furious, the entire ship and more stood by their side.

#anyway i need to go cry now #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #disabled #disability #disability in space #chronic pain #chronic illness #chronically ill #joint pain

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dwindlinghaze · 9 months

Note

HIII YOU’RE SO AWESOME! I was wondering if I could request a extroverted introvert!fem reader x introverted!Remus, where she is introverted and very sunshiny in public and remus is grumpy but he’s literally madly in love with her? like sarcastic, confident Remus is with this like bubbly and giggly girl and just a cutesie little story about them?

I hope this isn’t too much!

-Anon 🫶🫶

hi, lovelyy! thank you for requesting this! i loved the idea a lot and i hope you don't mind me writing r as girly and feminine :) 🫖👛🫧🪽🎀

sunshine and midnight rain

(remus lupin x reader)

contents : fluff, kissing, sweethearts in the sweetest love 😭🩷

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when he first saw you walking this morning with the brightest smile ever, he wanted to hold you and forget about everything in schedule today.

he saw you waving to a ravenclaw, blowing the girl a kiss as the two of you laughed. it was so adorable and heart warming. he couldn't believe it.

you plopped down next to him, greeting your boyfriend a good morning.

"morning, angel," he replied, kissing your head with a gentle yet firm pressure.

"how'd you sleep last night?" you asked, rubbing his cheeks softly.

"um good," he replied shortly. "would be better if you were with me but i'll survive," he smiled.

"oh rem, you can always ask me to be with you whenever you want okay?"

"i know, lovie," he replied, kissing you once more on your soft cheek.

when you two first started dating, it was a huge shock to the friend group. you two were the absolute opposite of each other and maybe that's why you two completed each other so well.

remus needs rays of golden sunshine, a beautiful princess-like girl whose heart is veiled with fresh daisies and soft hands to keep himself grounded while you needed those midnight rains to keep your flower field of your heart blooming continuously.

he remembered the first date you two had was on the most whimsical day ever. he laid out a picnic date for the two of you in the middle of a field of wild flowers.

when he saw you walking in from the door, his eyes were met with fleecy skin, sparkly eyes, light pink clothes, and a pure heart to tie them all together.

he couldn't believe it. such a dreamy girl wanted to be on a date with him!

he felt special. lucky. and best.

"you're absolutely stunning," he mumbled in awe as he saw you sitting down next to him, your soft skirt calmly hovering above his leg.

"remus, so are you," you said, smiling at him with a smile so sugary.

remus realised how quiet you were being. but he knew that he's not the cause of it. you were calm and peaceful, enjoying the soft winds surrounding you two.

"i made some food for us both, i hope you're hungry," he said, putting a good amount of food on to the plate he brought.

"mmm looks tasty," you beamed. "you must be a very good cook."

"i try," he smiled weakly. "i hope it isn't too bad, sorry if it is."

you took a portion of it, placing it on your mouth as you hummed in contentment. "it's delicious! do you cook a lot?" you asked.

"i help my mom sometimes, yeah," he blushed, squeezing your soft knuckles.

"oh that's so sweet of you!" you giggled.

he loves you. so very much. he has been looking for you since he first heard his mother reading a romance fairytale when he was a child.

of course he wasn't thinking of you at that very moment. but he was hoping to have a lovely fairytale, he's glad his hope was fulfilled by meeting you.

he knew at the first moment he landed eyes on you, you will wrap his fragile heart in the most precious and endless love. he wasn't mad about it, he knew he will always have you by his side and he can rely on you whenever.

despite his rough and grumpy exterior, inside his heart was painted with your colours of pearls: pale white, pink, and softly glowing.

his friends teased him about it.

"how can she make you so soft and puddly? you're like a stone with us," sirius groaned. they're best of friends. remus is familiar with sirius' hyperbole jokes.

remus didn't reply, he kept on reading.

"moony, what do you call a dark house with pink interior?" sirius asked, one of his jokes.

"hmm?" remus replied, unamused.

"a remus!" sirius roared with laughter, james laughing along as he patted sirius' back for his horrible joke.

usually after a full moon, remus wouldn't even break a smile. he physically couldn't. but ever since you're his, he smiled whenever you visited him at the infirmary.

even james told you about it. "our grumpy remus smiles more often now that he met you," said the boy when you returned from the hospital wing to eat breakfast.

"really?" your heart warmed. you loved making people smile. it felt like you had accomplished something so special. although it's not a hard thing for people to do when you're around.

"yup. he usually sulks around the room after his furry little problem but now he looks... healthier and more alive somehow," sirius said.

"i'm so glad. i think he deserves the best of the best."

at first remus' friends were hesitant about your relationship, afraid that remus' cold demeanour would gloom down your shine but it never did. if anything your shine had brightened him up.

his friends were grateful and happy for remus. they know you're the perfect girl for him. a big part of loving someone else is to love yourself first. and you did that both so wonderfully.

remus isn't scared of you not accepting him for his lycanthropy. though he does have a fear of hurting you one day. that doesn't stop him from loving you and being open to you about himself.

he knew you're open minded. with your bold beliefs of equal rights in society. he wasn't scared. he wasn't in pain. after all the awful things the universe had given him, a lovely sweet girl is there, making the life he has bearable again.

the first night after he told you about his lycanthropy, you wanted to stay for him. but he insisted on you to not to do that and meet him the next morning instead.

no, he wasn't embarrassed of his appearance right after the transformation. his scars don't heal overnight. he physically looked the same the night before and the morning after, except that he's more relaxed the next morning as for the slumber really helped.

he just doesn't want you to be tired. he wanted you to sleep well. having the rest an angel always needs. of course you wanted to be with him before and after. but you know better than to go against him during his weakest point.

you see him the next morning, bringing a bag of chocolates and croissants.

you placed the bag on the bedside table, reaching for his hand instead. he was still asleep, eyes fluttering cause he's dreaming. you caressed his rough and scarred fingers softly, humming a tune.

remus woke up in the most peaceful way ever. seeing you beside him, playing with his fingers. "morning, princess."

you looked over at him, smiling so big. "oh morning, my remus," his heart fluttered when he heard the nickname. he is yours. forever yours.

"you're here, darlin'."

"i am, i brought breakfast for you," you grabbed the bag of chocolate and croissants, opening them.

he sat up, reaching for the pastry but you pushed his hand away, making him frown in confusion. "i will do the work for you. you've been doing so much to me and i want to do this in return," you giggled. "sit back and relax."

"you don't have to," he said.

"i know. i would never do this to anyone except you."

remus smiled at that, opening his mouth to let you feed him. "you're such a doll. you're so good to me and sometimes i feel like i don't deserve this treatment... i'm not good enough."

"rem, don't worry about that," you smiled at him softly, wiping away the drop of chocolate on his chin. "you have to love and accept yourself. i'm here to be with you all along the journey. i want you to be good to your body, be good to yourself and never say such things like that. life becomes good when you love yourself."

"is your life good?" he asked.

"the best," you answered. "i've learned to be grateful for everything- 'cause i have everything," you chuckled, squeezing his knuckles. "maybe i'm not the ideal type of girl in every person''s eyes but i am my type of girl."

"you're everything i aspire to be," remus said, holding his hand over yours over his heart.

"i love you," you said.

"i love you, darlin', i won't ever stop," he smiled.

#x reader #character x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader fluff

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sattlersquarry · 14 days

Text

the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?”

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out.

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

#st fic: oj #st fic: tgd #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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phoward89 · 2 months

Text

Based on this ask

Platonic!Brother!Coriolanus Snow x Sister!Reader

Coriolanus was always overprotective when it came to you, his baby sister. Maybe it was because you barely survived your birth, the birth that killed your mother, or maybe it was because he was the ‘man’ of the house. But whatever the reason, he was an overprotective big brother.

It was cute when you were little kids, but by time you became a teenager and he was a young adult, well, it wasn't cute anymore. It was straight up annoying.

You're in your last year at the Academy and you feel so suffocated. You had nobody, but your older brother. Your cousin, Tigris, after a falling out with Coriolanus, moved out years ago. And Grandma'am, poor Grandma’am, was in a memory center due to her ailing condition.

It hurts, having nobody, but Coriolanus to interact with.

Hell, you didn't even have a boyfriend. But that was because nobody in their right mind at the Academy was brave enough to approach you considering who your brother was.

Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow.

Senator Coriolanus Snow.

Aspiring Presidential Hopeful Coriolanus Snow.

A dangerous man.

Coriolanus Snow.

You're sure you're going to die a virgin and all alone, all because your brother’s so over protective of you.

Since you don't have a father, he feels the need to be your father figure. Be the man of the house. Yada yada yada.

So, one day when you came home from the Academy sulking and dragging your satchel alone the floor, Coryo took it up on himself and an overprotective brother to find out why you were upset.

He needed to know who to kill for hurting your feelings.

“What happened today at the Academy to have you sulking like a black rain cloud’s hanging over your head.” Coriolanus asked from his sitting chair while watching some political network on the tv.

“An announcement for a gala.” You sighed, going over to a side table to set your bag down.

“Why should that make you upset? The Academy holds galas every few months for upper classmen. I myself used to go to them.”

Yea, you remember how he'd run around the house like a chicken with its head cut off looking for whatever Tigris made for him to wear. He had to have his gala outfits look amazing even if they were made from black market fabrics Tigris did the unthinkable for. Your brother always had to dress to impress at galas since he used them to network.

Hell, he still networks at galas, balls, and events. It's just on a different level now.

“It's not the gala that's got me upset." You told him as you made your way over to the sitting chairs. Sitting down next to him, you explained, "It's the fact that I'm going to be the only girl without a date for it that's got me upset.”

“You don't need a date to attend the gala, dear.” Coriolanus reminded you, his eyes glued to the political talk show host on the TV screen. Hmm...they must be talking about the upcoming election.

“But-” you began, only for your brother to cut you off with, “No buts, young lady.” Giving you a stern look, he receited the same speech he always gave when the subject of dating came up. “You’re not ready to date yet. The boys your age will only corrupt you and we can't have you being corrupted; dragging the Snow name through the mud.”

His remark made you wonder how many nice girls he corrupted since he was so certain that you'd be corrupted.

“I'll make you a suitable match when you're of age.” Coriolanus told you before turning the volume up on the TV when the program host mentioned his name and polling numbers.

Oh, you just couldn't wait to see who he'd set you up with. Considering he's such a cold man, you doubt it'd be anyone you'd get along with. You doubt that what he views as a good match for you is what you'd view as a good match.

You're polar opposites.

Truth be told, you barely tolerate your older brother these days. He never laughs or smiles, he's just obsessed with power and politics.

And money.

“Maybe you could find me a date for the gala? Somebody suitable to take me?” You suggested as a desperate attempt for him to let you go to the gala with a boy your age.

“Yea, I'll find you a date.” Coriolanus nodded, his attention more so on the TV then on you. Guess his political ambitions mean more to him than you do at the moment.

When your Coriolanus said he'd find you somebody suitable to take you to the gala, you never thought that he was talking about himself. But here you were, dressed in something suitable for a nun, since Coriolanus is strict about you showing too much skin, wearing short skirts, etc. Of course, you're stuck being chaperoned by your overprotective older brother.

Why would he let you have a real date for the gala?

He's too obsessed with you to let you out of his site. Now more than ever you hate how overprotective the presidential hopeful is with you.

You could feel everyone staring at you. God, you felt so weird being stuck on your brother's arm.

“Who’s that?” Coriolanus asked, pointing to a raven haired girl in a wine red dress, that was sipping on a flute of posca, while talking to a one of the cutest boys at the Academy.

“That's General Prometheus Byzantine's step-daughter. Her names Juniper, but she goes by June.” You answered, hoping that he wasn't asking because he was interested in her.

She's your classmate for Christ's sake!

“She's 18?” Coriolanus asked, tipping you off that he was, indeed, interested in her.

“Yes, she's 18.” You confirmed with a nod.

Coriolanus nodded, only to tell you, “Go hang by the wall and don't talk to anyone. I'm going to introduce myself to Miss Byzantine.”

You shook your head, watching your brother take off to go flirt with one of your classmates. You didn't think it was fair that he could do whatever he wanted, but you had to toe the line.

It was complete and utter bullshit.

You didn't care about his political ambitions or riches, you just wanted a normal life.

Sometimes you wish that he never got that early discharge from President Ravenstill. You were free when he was a peacekeeper in 12. Now you're shackled and chained to him. You're at his mercy because he's so obsessed with protecting you.

At least for that summer he was away in District 12 you were able to have friends. Now, you had nobody, but yourself.

Knowing you didn't have much of a choice, you went over to the wall and blended into it. Watching your brother charm the raven haired girl in your math, history, and literature classes.

Maybe him charming General Byzantine’s step-daughter was a blessing in disguise. Maybe if Coriolanus is too busy trying to woo and court somebody, he won't be able to be an overprotective big brother anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, that was just wishful thinking on your part.

Ever since General Crassus Snow died, Coriolanus took it upon himself to be the man of the house. To protect you.

And over time that mission became his number one obsession.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis , @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord , @erikasurfer , @tulips2715 , @universal-s1ut , @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans , @sudek4l , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 , @shari-berri , @aoi-targaryen , @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1 , @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #platonic!reader #platonic #platonic!coriolanus snow

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hidden-poet · 4 months

Text

S. lands on top

summary: Coriolanus returns home to the Capital with two women from district 12 plaguing his mind. One a (presumed) dead mystery but another well within his reach.

warnings: unco, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, punishments not fun-ishments, she/her pronouns, kidnapping, violence. lucy-grey slander (I love her).

unedited.

Next chapter

--------------

Coriolanus strides through the citadel.

His pace was quick and egger to reach its destination of Dr Gaul's playroom.

He passes a line of Peace keepers without a glace, and they don't bother him. Now knowing the face of the youngest game maker ever.

He yanks open the door, and walks down her long corridor of horrors to were she sat at her operating table, digging into a screaming creature.

He slams his piece of paper down on the desk beside her, and she eyes its curiously.

"The work I've done today" he explains. The crunch paper read the headline; the 11th hunger games: problems and solutions. And that was all.

She goes back to her work after a quick glance.

"congratulations".

"You need to do something about it" he throws his hands up frustrated and begins to pace, "i can't think. I sit in that room all day staring at paper".

He refers to his quite lavish and large office as a room. The Spoils of the Capital no longer foreign to him.

"A lobotomy perhaps?". Dr Gaul continues her work uninterested in the boys issues.

"Don't you want me to be the best I can be? Elevate the Hunger games to be something that the Capital people cheer and look froward to?"

"You would not be standing in front of me if i thought otherwise" Dr Gaul remarks.

"then help me. He stops his pacing to look at her.

"What would you have me do, Mr Snow?"

"Give me a letter of transit out of district 12"

"i thought you said you killed Lucy-grey"

"I did".

he is pretty sure he did. Even if the bullet never made fatal impact, she would never survive the infection let alone the elements of the forest.

'There was another. A young girl who would wash my peace keeper uniform."

"My!' the irradiate old women coo'd, "What a lover boy you truly are"

Enthralled by his request, Dr Gaul spins out of her chair and goes to retrieve the paper from her writings desk.

"A simple girl hinders you from completing your work? a district girl no less. Does she know this?"

"I've never even spoken to her" he admits.

Dr Gual lets out a loud laugh as she flicks her pen to her signature.

"You are more like me than you like to claim. You have your pets and I have mine" she walks over, holding the yellow piece of paper in her hands.

'Dare i say mine are more useful, but after all you are just a man"

Coriolanus reaches for it but she pulls it back.

"And man, when they are truly focused are the most dangerous things on the planet".

He doesn't shy away from her stare. It holds no horror for him any longer. Rather he challenges it. He had his fathers eyes. Cold, deep and unrelenting to opposition.

He wins another round and she pushes the paper into his hands. He gives no thank you as he turns back to the door.

'let's hope this one survives you".

Her words still him by the door, but he had no time to dwell. He had a train to catch, peace keepers to organize, and a girl to bring home.

---------

Mabel had just gotten home for the day. Had just set down her satchel and begin to make her way to the kitchen to help prepare dinner when peace keeps knocked down her door. Her complaints of the wet weather now seeming immaterial as they flooded the small house, turning its residents up against the wall.

She calls out to her father as he is violently shoved to his knees.

"That's the girl. the young one" a peace keeper nodded in her direction. Another turns, heading down the hall for you.

"RUN!" Her father demands and Mabel takes off through the back door. She runs through the pouring rain past her village to the backing forest were she knew she could hide.

Branches mark her face up as she pushes through the thickness. She couldn't stop, hearing numerus foot steps chasing her. She dodges and weaves hopping to lose them enough so she could hide.

A shot is fired, offering her a lull in the marching as their commander reprimanded them.

"unharmed! Unharmed! you imbecile! capital orders".

She jumps over a large fallen log and nestles herself as far as she could under it. The mud sloshes underneath her, weighing her knee length grey dress down while the rest of the mud smeared over her bare legs. The rain keeps pelting down which help to wash away her foot prints.

She wondered what she did to gain capital attention. Enough Capital attention that they would want her unharmed and not shot at first sight.

"little girl" she heard the same voice that reprimanded the others call out to her, "come out. We are not going to hurt you unless you make us".

Living in the districts all her life she knew that was a life. She clamps her hands over her mouth to quieten her heavy breathing, as she listens to their walking footsteps.

"If not for you" the voice continues, "Then for your family. They'll hang if you make this too hard on us".

Her family. She was powerless to protect them if she ran. She was powerless now, but provocation was the last thing Peace keepers needed to make good on a threat.

So she came out. A peace Keeper had just been to her left, above her. If he wasn't stupid he would have found her anyway.

he raised his gun to her and called out to the others.

"There's a good girl" The shrieking voice was placed to a little man. Short in statue and round. He had bushy eyebrows that nearly hit his helmet and a large flat nose.

"cuff her"

The peace keeper lowered his gun to do so.

"What have I done?" she asks as she is lead back through the forest with a tight grip on her arm.

"capital business. But you can add running away from Peace keepers and resisting arrest to the list".

"I haven't done anything. You can't do this" Mabel pleads. It was correct. She was an outstanding citizen of district 12. She worked more than she played.

'Take it up with the capital" The little man huffed.

She is led through the peering eyes of the village back to her home where a large Capital issued van was waiting. Upon seeing the retrieving group, half the peace keepers loaded themselves back up onto the wooden panels on the side ready for deployment.

The peace Keepers that pushed their guns into the back of her mum and dad's head relent as well. It was late and this mission had interpreted their dinner time.

She could see her father throw his arms over her mother keeping the old women from fighting a Peace Keeper. It would only get them all killed.

she was pushed to the van. not even allowed a goodbye. A peace keeper in the back of the van positioned himself to lift her up. He squatted down and held out his arms to lift. She was going to make it easy for him by stepping up upon outer frame but a voice lit the fire once more.

"Mabel!".

She froze. She knew that little voice from a crowd of a hundred.

her little sister had returned home from sewing school to see her being loaded up into a peace keeper van.

"Livy go to Mrs Flexures house. Go!".

She protested, choosing to run through a crowd of big men.

A Peace keeper caught her and lifted her up into his arms like a flailing fish.

"let her go" Mabel screams. She tries to make her way to her sister but is stopped by the Goblin caption.

Mabel was normally a outstanding citizen but hearing her sister screaming, she bit down on the captions hand.

He shouted as her teeth sunk, releasing her from his hold. She pulls against hands and sounds of the reserved peace keepers exiting the van to get to her sister.

She is stopped but it didn't matter, Livy was dropped in case the Peacekeeper needed both hands.

A fellow neighbor had ran out and grabbed her taking her into the safety of his home.

Mabel felt her heart beat back to life as her sister left harms way.

She smiles as she sees the backhand from the caption come down upon her. Her family was safe, it didn't matter if she wasn't.

The rain had eased up but left the ground with pools of red mud. Without her hands to catch herself, Mabel fell face first into one.

"Give me the thing" The goblin looking man demanded. A hand held contraption similar to the one the medics used to give them their shot was handed over.

she screamed and kicked at him, wiggling her way backwards on the ground. Unsure of what he had planned to give her. She doubted it was a vaccinee against measles.

he scuffled with her, pulling up the cap of her sleave and releasing the medicine into her arm.

It took effect almost immediately. Her vision began to blur and head rang only for the moment it took for her to be lifted and placed upon the vans floor among the booted feet. She could see one mans loosened shoe laces before darkness over took her.

-----------

Coriolanus waits at the train station. Hiding from the rain inside the door frame of the carriage. His eyes rake across the platform. He was getting impatience.

he had half expected by the time he made the journey they would of had her waiting for him. Instead he was left to wait in the cold. It had remined him too much of lucy-grey.

He had tried to remain seated in the warmth of the carriage, but he was far to restless to be bothered by servants trying to please him. He didn't want cake. He didn't want a hot beverage. He didn't want their hands over him giving him a massage.

he wanted to take his girl and be on his way.

But he remembered what district 12 was like. A collection of useless no hopers. He would be glad to finally turn his back on the place for good. With Mabel by his side there would be nothing keeping him from erasing his history here all together.

He pulls his gloved tighter on his wrist, and closes his red large coat higher to his throat. District 12 only ever swayed between the extremes.

He had remembered how hot it was the day he and lucy grey set path to their new home.

Sweat had rolled down his neck to his back. His t-shirt clinging unkindly to him. He was carrying all the heavy things while Lucy-grey wondered before him, unbothered by weight.

He took it as a punishment. It allowed weak people to drag him down, as this weight now did.

"I've been thinking" He swats a mosquito on his neck, "It ain't only us who can tie the murder to me and you".

lucy-Grey spun around to him.

"that girl. The one who helped us escape after they found the bodies."

She had looked at him for a second while ushering him and Lucy-Grey out a side entrance. he remembered the spark that ran through him after finally being seen by her. He tore free from Lucy-grey's hand less she think he wasn't avaliable. But he doubt she saw it from how fast she closed the door. Her sweet voice telling peace keepers they had gone the other way.

"who? Mabel?".

Mabel. He finally had a name. He asked around the compound but no one knew. She washed and ironed uniforms, who cared what her name was. But he did, and he finally had it as he fled from her.

" we should turn back around and get her. Make sure she doesn't talk. Even if they don't find the guns, word of mouth's all they need to come after us".

"nu-uh Mabel wouldn't rat us out. Peace keeps would have caught us Covey foke long before they did if it hadn't been for her and her secret hiding places."

Secret hiding places? was that why she was so difficult to find when he had patrolling duty. He must have swapped ten or twelve times trying to find her amongst the sections.

"You said it yourself people are tortured for information here. We should get to her before they do".

Life in the woods with him wouldn't be too different from life in the districts for her. He would try and make it comfortable. Going fishing every morning for her, and brining back his game from hunting. They would settle down and have a fine little life. Lucy-Grey would find her baring in the woods and go her own way.

"You my man, Coriolanus?" She asks. Her voice was full of anger and questioning.

Not even remotely. He was her victor , she was his pawn. Still, she was his only hope of getting as far as he needed to go so he nestles up against her and takes her thumb between his forefinger and thumb.

"Of course I am".

He kisses her to avoid suspicion but it lacks any true passion.

It seemed to satisfy none the less.

"She won't tell and even if she does we'll be too far gone for them to catch us".

He pulls away, sour, and continues to lead their journey to the cabin. They would rest tonight and make ground tomorrow.

he spoused in the dead of the night it could be Mabel beneath him and not lucy grey. He could put meat on her bones to give her a fuller figures like Mabel's. Ensure that Lucy-grey keeps her long hair and perhaps convince her to put it back in a braid like Mabel kept hers.

In day light so long as Lucy-grey was not directly in his eye sight he could pretend that it was Mabel's hand he clung to.

he had resolved himself to a life of pretend by the time they reached the cabin. Only to find the key to his freedom underneath the floor boards.

He picks up the gun tenderly, eyeing it as if it would disappear.

'What is it?' Lucy-grey asks.

He turns around and shows her. She must have known she was done before Coriolanus did. she made a quick escape to go get Katniss while Coriolanus was still distracted by his freedom.

He had made a comment about rain and she had made one back but he wasn't sure that exacts. He had them which means he didn't have to give up his Mabel.

Unless Lucy-grey blind with jealousy turned him in. His eyes flick to the door. She had served her purpose but now had to be eliminated for his future.

he follows his champion into the woods. Calling out for her. She was a killer, but so was he.

"Lucy-Grey!" He calls, looking for any source of colour he could find.

He saw a pop of orange in the distance and headed for it. It was his mothers scarf. he huffs and puffs as he picks it up, Mabel wouldn't treat his mothers things like this.

A snake jumps out as he lifts it before it runs away to quick for Coriolanus to get a good look at it to see if it was poisons or not.

He lets out a wicked laugh. he was going to feel bad for killing her. It was not her fault she was in love, but now the only thing he would feel is satisfaction.

He punches the ground as the pain pluses up his arm.

"Was that poisonousness? are you tryin to kill me?' he calls out once more, "Lucy-Grey! I said are- you- trying -to- kill- me?'

he picks up his gun once more and begins to hunt. He needed to kill her fast so he could get back to the medical Centre. It wouldn't do to die just as he is winning.

Singing could be heard and he whips in its direction before the mocking jays picked it up. Soft footed he follows, pushing down large bush with his gun.

he must have spooked her as she took of running gaining his attention. He fired a shot, and he could see her stumble, possibly hit, but she kept running.

He took off after her, his heavy pointed gun slowing him down. he pushes through the forest to where he expected her to be laying and begging for her life but finds the spot empty.

She was there, he suspects bending down to pick up her earring, but now lost to the sounds of the forest and damn mocking jays.

He lets off the camber into the sky hopping to kill some of the birds to quiten the sound. He ran out of bullets before he could make a difference.

It didn't matter she wouldn't survive out here on her own, and she would be too smart to show her face in district 12 again with the mayor and now officer Coriolanus looking out for her. When he returned to base he could explain to commander Hoff that he followed a rebel into the forest where he was attacked by the snake. He would suggest that a fence be put up around the district so no other lesser peace keeper would die, and no better rebel could make it their base.

Then he would find where Mabel lived, and take her away with him.

The idea fueled his movements as he packed up the guns and sunk them in the water. But as he let go for them to sink, he realized all the holes in his plan.

Even if he could convince her to come to the station with him by a gun in her side, subdued with threats to her family. How would he convince Commander Hoff to let her on the train. Could he somehow sneak her on the train past the people. Would they allow him to bring a luggage so large to officer training. And even if he managed to get her to district 2 how would he keep her a secret.

No. He had to leave her. Wait until he plowed through officer training and got back to the Capital. From there he could figure out how to bring her to him.

It was a delight when Dr Gaul called him back to the Capital instead. He had wanted to angle himself into a higher position, perhaps finish university, before he made his move. But thoughts of her marrying, giving up what was his, plagued his mind.

He wasn't regretful as he stood out in the cold. It wasn't a lie when he told Dr Gaul she was effecting his work. It was hard to stay focused in University, and in his apprenticeship. The districts married young never knowing how much time they truly had left.

It was a dangerous place and Mabel was in habit of offering a helping hand to crook and traitors. It was best that she took her place beside him now. He would just have to learn how to juggle yet another thing.

he wouldn't have much time for her between work, university, the steep climb to the top, and keeping favor with the Plinths as they doted on him as a son. But Tigress and Grandma'am would keep her company within the walls of the Snow penthouse.

He still lived with them. kept under his watchful eye and protection. He could now offer them a life that the head of the Snow household should be able to offer. The least they could do was look after his girl while he was away.

He straightened up as a small commander and a handful of peace keepers make their way across the platform.

A large peace keeper carried a small girl in his arms. She was unconscious. Not what he had asked, but perhaps made it easier on all parties.

He jumps down from the carriage as they near. He could see her cheek was swollen and busied. Her brown hair stuck together with mud and twigs. Her skin is dirty, bare and covered in goosebumps from the cold.

Still he considered her beautiful.

"give her to me" He demanded, readying his arms to take her. Mabel is slipped into them. She dirties his suit but he doesn't mind.

"tell the Conductor we are ready to go".

With his strength he hauls them both up into the private carriage. He takes her to the booth and lays her down so her feet were by the window and her head was resting on his thigh.

He shoves off her gloves so he could unbutton his coat and rest the soft material over her. It was warm in the cabin but he could feel a slight shake of her soaked body.

The train takes off and pushes him slightly back into his seat from the force. Once it gained a steady pace, the servants rose from their compartments and entered the cabin to serve coffee and cake.

They left him at his request, and remained drinking coffee and eating treats with one hand while the other laid upon Mabel's shoulder.

He was sure once they reached home he would get a lot of good work done. It would be early morning by the time the train reached the station. By the time he got her home, tigress and Grandma'am would surely be awake and having breakfast.

Grandma'am would be no bother. From a young age she allowed Coriolanus to do as he pleased. But Tigress would inundate him with questions and demands. He wondered if she would still be sleeping at this point in time. he hoped she would. Feilding question from two angry women at once might be too much for him to bare.

Until that point he allowed himself to enjoy this time. He was sure it would be some time before he got Mabel quiet again. The silence allowed him to plan his week. Summer break was coming up which meant he all his assignments were due. The Pliniths had wanted him to come vacation with them but now that wasn't a possibility. He would have to make up a story of Grandma'am ill health.

He could see the sun peeking up, and knew they must be close. Going into a tunnel being surrounded by vast nothingness and emerging through the city Centre, Coriolanus knew he had gotten away with it. He had the money, the power, and now the girl. All that was left was presidency, and that was ever so fast flying into his reach with the help of Dr Gaul.

The train stops and announces its arrival. he picks her up, wrapped in his coat and jumps off the train before the servants could position the ramp.

he ignores their warm wishes and heads straight to his chaffeur waiting outside of the station. He again ignores any form of greeting as he enters into the car. The driver closes the door he was holding open, asking as he sat back in the drivers seat if home was the destination.

A simple yes and the car took off.

he held Mabel on his lap as they drove home. He could see the driver look back in his mirror and Coriolanus wanted to put the divider up between them but didn't want to take his hands off his Mabel to do so.

It wasn't a long drive home, and he found himself barking at his driver to hurry up and open his door. Despite what was awaiting for him at home.

With the elevator now restored, he didn't have to carry her up flights of stairs. It was too early for the residents to be up and heading to work but the quicker he got Mabel inside the more secure he felt that when time came he could sell her as a unknown recluse heiress without too much trouble.

His keys were in his pocket which he couldn't reach without letting her go. Instead his shoes kick the bottom of the door and tigress is quick to answer.

'Coryo! oh my god"

He pushes past her, heading across the room to where Grandma'am sat at the breakfast table.

'What happened? is she alright". Tigress follows him to where he stood.

"She looks district!" Grandma'am muttered with disgust.

Tigress Places her hand across Mable's forehead to check for fever. She had always done it to Coriolanus as a child.

He shifts her away from Tigress's touch. He wanted to be the one that looked after her, and if Tigress felt even a slight fever he would never be able to shoo her away.

"What happened?" she asked again, peering over his shoulder to the thankfully still unconscious girl.

"Let me put her down first, Tigress" Coriolanus demanded.

he walked past Grandma'am at the table who had resumed eating her breakfast, to his room. He kicks the door closed behind him and lies Mable on his bed.

She had dried but so had the mud. It cacked her dress and along her legs. She would need a good bath and Coriolanus would need new bed sheets but for the moment he settled for retrieving a warm wash cloth from his bathroom and rubbing the dirt from her face.

She stirred a little, and he thought for a second she would wake up to see him hovering over her with a rag in his hand. But she didn't.

He thought about kissing her after seeing her deep state, but she was covered in dirt. He wasn't entirely sure that his lips would even meet skin.

It was a good thing too. He had enough to explain to Tigress who would have busted into his room at the exact moment.

"Who is she?" Tigress whispered.

Coriolanus ignored her and began to take off Mabel's muddy boots. His long fingers undid the laces and pulled the shoe, throwing them across the room.

'Coriolanus!'

He strode over and took Tigress arm leading her back to the living room. He leaves the door open so he could hear if Mabel woke.

"She'll be staying with us for a while"

the rest of her life.

"Why?" a valid question that Coriolanus couldn't truthfully answer.

"I saved her. They were going to kill her in the districts" not a whole lie.

"But why bring her here? is she hurt?". Good hearted Tigress was going to be dreadfully upset when she found out the truth.

"She'll be staying here. And I need you, Tigress to be friend's with her. Look after her while i am away".

"I don't understand" She begins but is cut off.

"You don't need to understand. You just need to do as your told. Haven't I been good to you? Didn't I bring us from ruin to give you everything you deserved?".

"Yes, Coriolanus, but-"

"Do this for me, Tigress" he begs.

She looks up to him and sees her little cousin. Her darling, little cousin who she would do anything for.

"Okay, Coriolanus".

He kisses her cheek and lets her go.

"Coriolanus" his Grandma'am exclaimed, "You're clothes are filthy".

-------

Mabel wakes with a fright. She springs her body up upon the soft bed and panics. She could see high, well built buildings out of the window against blue skies. They had taken her to the capital.

She looks around the room to see the door wide open. She sprints to it running out and down the hall. Her bare feet slapping against the ground.

She skids along the floor to a halt having seen the three high members of society.

Coriolanus could only have thought of two worse times she could have woken up. He was hopping to get a few more hours to take his weekly meeting with Dr Gual and return home to complete his next assignment.

But she stood now in front of him with wild eyes. The Snows had taken to having tea in the living room.

Coriolanus dropped his cup down and rose to speak to her but she took it as a sign of aggression and lunged to take a cheese knife off the table.

Grandma'am shrieked at the sight.

'I don't want to hurt you" Mabel spoke.

"You don't need to. You're safe" Tigress consoles

"Where am I?" the girl asked in a hard voice.

'The capital" Coriolanus answered. It was the first thing he had ever said to her.

"I know that. Where in the Capital. The prison?".

"Take a look around you. Not much of a prison". Coriolanus takes a step froward and Mabel holds out her cheese knife.

The Avoxes had left the platter to enjoy as they drank their tea. Now Coriolanus wished he had thrown the board out after them.

"is that were I am heading?" .

Coriolanus doesn't answer but takes a step forwards.

"For heavens sake, Coriolanus. Stop, You're scaring the poor girl" Tigress rose also to regain her cousin but he was too far out to reach to grab without causing the girl to act rash.

"Coriolanus" his name sounded heavenly from her lips, "you take another step and i promise I'll dig this knife into your stomach".

"I am not going to hurt you" he promises.

'I might hurt you" Mabel retorts.

"Get her, Coriolanus!" grandma'am urges and he shudders at himself loosing what remained of his good guy image.

"You're not going to the Capital prison. Just give me the knife and we can have a cup of tea and talk about this".

He holds out his hand expectedly but she keeps grip of it.

"If not for the prison. What am I here for?"

That was a question he could not answer in front of his cousin and grandma.

He points to the kitchen area as if some one was there, 'Get her" he yells to no one.

Mabel stupidly looks giving Coriolanus a chance to get close enough to pin her to the wall. He lays his forearm against her chest, keeping her flat against the wall, using his other hand to clamp down upon her fingers, repeatedly hitting her hand against the wall until she lost grip of the knife.

He kicks it backwards across the floor. He can hear Tigress calling out to him and Grandam'am cheering.

But the fight wasn't beaten out of her yet. His proximity allowed her to bite down on his shoulder. Her bruised cheek no longer a concern or mystery for him.

He groans throwing her to the floor, where he promptly picked her up again before she could catch her breath. He wraps his arms around hers and pulls her to her feet, pushing behind her back to his room.

She kicks and wails in his arms, but she was a starving district girl and he was a well built man. He gets her there with little trouble and throws her to the ground over the doors threshold. She is hardly on her feet before he locked the door.

Tigress had followed him. He didn't notice until her hand went flat against the wooden door. Pressing against the noise of mabel's banging.

"You can't leave her like this".

"She made the choice. I was happy to leave her in the living room with you".

he takes tigress back to the living room once more pushing on the small of her back.

'i am late already. Make sure Grandma'am doesn't call any peace keepers, while i am gone".

"where are you going?" Tigress wraps herself around his arm as he walks to the door.

'i have to met with Doctor Gaul" he explains to Tigress, "leave her there. I'll get out as quick as I can, until I do Just leave her to kick and scream. She dangerous, Tigress. Do not try and open that door".

The only key to his room hangs on his key chain but tigress was a innovative women.

"She's only a girl" Tigress counteracts.

"A district girl!' grandma'am yells.

he turns to meet her gaze.

"I'll be home as soon as I can" He looks in his cousins eyes for defiance, "Can i trust you?".

"Of course" her loyalty lied with him.

"The door remains locked until I get home then".

He shrugs off her hold as he puts on one of his old coats, and runs out the building with dirty clothes on.

-----

"You're nearly an half an hour late, Mr Snow".

Dr Gaul was in the same position as yesterday. Digging into a poor animal, trying to manufacture it as it screams.

"I know". The driver who was weary after waiting all day and night yesterday was not on top of his game in getting Coriolanus here.

She eyes his dirty clothes under his coat. Nothing left unnoticed in her presence.

'i take it you got your girl after you left me yesterday"

"i did"

''And i take it she wasn't all that happy to see you".

Coriolanus felt slightly upset that she didn't seem to remember him from his peace keeping days. To be fair, it was Lucy-grey she was focused on. She loved music and dancing, coming to every gig and staying at the front the whole night while Coriolanus watched from the back. Maybe it was for the best. He could present himself as a new man.

"She was ecstatic".

Dr Gaul put down after tools, and the animal stop squealing dead.

"So that's happy blood soaking through your shirt"

Coriolanus looks to his injured shoulder to see it leaking blood. Her biting wasn't a warning.

he huffs out and squeezes his eyes shut annoyed.

"Give me todays assignment. I'll do it at home".

Dr Gaul rises from her chair and pushes his coat and shirt aside to examine the bite wound. He stands still and allows her to.

"No assignment today. You look like you've got your hands quite full".

She places a hand on his bit shoulder and he drops it away in pain.

Dr Gaul begins one of her horrid laughs.

"this one might survive you after all".

--------------

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #tigris snow #hunger games #lucy gray baird

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bts-0t-7 · 5 months

Text

So What? | MYG | Chapter 1

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar

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Carrying your body home after a full day shift at the café is always the hardest part of your work. The worst thing is that it was raining today.

"Man, it seriously can't get any worse than this already."

You were walking to your apartment from the nearest bus stop when you heard skitting across the road and paused. It was forty-five minutes to midnight and living next to a park made the lights in the area dim. That totally did not help the rising panic within.

“Hello?” You called out. “Nobody? Okay.”

You continued uphill as you constantly looked around, body and mind on high alert. As you walked closer and closer to your apartment building, the hissing got louder. You stopped dead in your tracks, rain harshly hitting the umbrella as you frantically tried to locate the noise. The flight and fight response in you is more towards the latter. Your eyes connected with two moonlit ones, staring back at you as if they knew where your soul was.

“Hi, kitty.” It hissed. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?" You tried coaxing it up with you. "It's raining hard, it’s better if you go under the building.”

You stood under the rain, getting soaked as you tried to coax it from under the car. You wouldn't have believed that you were redoing this on a brain-damaging day, still seem to have patience for a cat. It hissed and moved back when your hand went closer to it. You squatted there for a good fifteen minutes when you groaned and got up from your spot, pants and bag completely wet from the rain. You reached out your hand as a last offer, “Come on sweet pea, please?”

You used your best baby voice. The cat refuses to move from the spot it has pressed itself against.

"Fine. Maybe you don't want to leave me standing here." You have another look. "But when I leave, go under there," Pointing at the shelter of the apartment building. "It's dryer and warmer there. Night, kitty."

You went into the apartment building and took the lift up to the twenty-seventh floor. You brought out your keys as they clanged loudly against the metal gates. One foot in, you looked around your apartment, climbed the countertop, and took a plastic bowl off the shelf.

He's either going to be there or not going to be there.

You decided to take the plunge and filled the bowl with warm water - not too warm but not too cold. A flash of light shines through your house before the loud boom of thunder vibrates the walls. You hurried back down to the parking lot, afraid that the cat would be scared of the noise.

That's stupid. It's stray, it's used to it. But… It doesn't mean it isn't scared.

You carefully went back down to where the vehicle the cat was at but all you found was an empty space. Alarmed, you stood there, calling out for the black cat as if it could understand that it was being called. Only when you registered that the water in the bowl started to get cold did you leave to go back into your warm home with a heavy heart, hoping that the kitty at least found a dry spot before the rain got heavier in the night.

Yoongi never had the plan to be caught by any humans the day he left that horrid place. He survived on the streets, stealing food from vendors, and eating late-night snacks, but overall, he was fine as a cat. He survived as a cat and he has vowed that he would live like one for the rest of his life.

Until you came along.

He smelled you from a mile away. He was at the bin stealing off the last bits of leftover chicken that the hawker centre vendors had thrown away when he smelt you. He never stayed in one place for too long or the animal control would take him. But Yoongi stayed there for three days now. Three whole days and nights, scenting you, seeing you. But he never intended to be found out.

The rain started to pour when he was chewing off the last bits of his dinner. He scurried away to the nearest vehicle, crawling under to shield himself from the rain. People don’t normally like animals under the apartment buildings and it would be a too obvious place for him to be at.

“Hello?” He heard you call out. He scented your fear and kept still, not wanting to be caught. But as you neared the vehicle that he was under, he started to hiss loudly, animal instincts taking over to be alarmed and fight and all costs. You stood still again, now eyes turning to where he was and making contact with yours.

He stilled.

“Hi, kitty.” You called out to him, hands reaching nearer under the vehicle to try and pet him. He hissed out loudly and pressed himself even more against the tyres of the car. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?" You smelled heavenly to him, like tangerine and chocolate. He didn’t want you to leave but he didn’t want to be caught.

You tried your very best but he knew he wasn’t going to budge, not while you’re here at least.

“Maybe you don't want to leave with me standing here." Yes - "But when I leave, go under there," No - "It's dryer and warmer there. Night, kitty." Good night.

No way in hell is he going to go under the apartment blocks especially when he will be too exposed. You never once looked back as you walked into your building.

Maybe I should really go somewhere else to sleep tonight.

The rain started to get heavier, soaking almost half his body under the car. Yoongi walked out, rain splattering on his fur, spreading the blood down to his shin. He winced. Maybe fighting for the food just now wasn’t a good idea. Just as he started to limp away, lightning struck and thunder boomed, making him flinch and run to the trash bins located outside the apartment blocks. He slithered his way in there.

Hmm, dry enough for now.

He fell asleep just as he heard, “Kitty? Kitty! Kitty, where are you?”

You wake up to the sound of the alarm blaring through the house and turn over to grab the phone, turning it off so that it doesn’t sound again. Just as you were about to fall back asleep, your neighbours downstairs started shouting, waking you up.

You groaned. “What the hell. Fine, fine, I’m up.”

You vigorously tried to rub the sleep off of your face and headed to the washroom. You walked out of the washroom with a toothbrush stuck in your mouth as you took the kettle to boil some water. Rummaging through the cupboard for something to eat was the hard part. Being out at work means that the drawers in your house are almost empty. You sighed as you found some crackers in the refrigerator. You took a bowl and filled it with crackers and bread cookies.

As toothpaste started leaking out of your mouth, you hurriedly ran to the washroom to continue washing up. The coffee was simply made and placed beside the bowl of crackers and phones. You readied the vacuum and pail of water needed to clean the house.

You had a strict line-up when it came to Saturday cleaning. All drawers, shelves, and countertops are to be cleaned first. Followed by the carpets being vacuumed. Then, the floors will be vacuumed and moped - twice per room to make sure there is not a speck of dust. After that everything is washed and kept back to their original positions and the basins and toilets are next.

Usually by then, you are too exhausted to be bothered to clean it in any way, just making sure that everything is scrubbed - from top to bottom. Okay, yeah, maybe you do have a slight cleanliness problem. But you absolutely dislike it when the house gets too dusty as it makes you sneeze a lot. Though, cleaning itself is a workout but thankfully, you often finish just before lunch.

You crashed down onto the sofa after cleaning. “Ugh, today is exhausting.” You flung an arm over your forehead. You got up to get your phone from the dining table and adjusted your spectacles properly over the bridge of your nose. Deciding to be lazy today, you ordered in McDonald’s. As you deemed yourself well-rested enough, you got up with a huff and headed to take a shower.

Just as you were about to blow dry your hair, the doorbell rang and you hurriedly made your way over with keys in hand. Your stomach was finally grumbling for some food to grind in its system and you were pretty sure that by now, it was already eating itself. Just as you reached the small water fountain placed in the living room, a few steps away from your room, you realised that there was a ball of black-something.

That ball of black-something was indeed a cat and it looked as if it was a deer - or well, cat - caught in the headlights. Its pupils enlarged as one of its paws was paused midway in the air as if it just stopped from taking another step. The doorbell rang again, efficiently snapping the both of you out of your stupors.

“Coming!” You shouted as the cat scurried under your sofa. You thanked the delivery man for the food and quickly shut the door.

“Kitty? Is that you?” You placed the food on the top of the shoe rack, crouching down, head on the floor, trying to communicate with the cat that just - somehow, maybe flew? - into your house.

No response. As the both of you stared at each other in absolute silence, you somehow knew that it was indeed the cat you saw last night. You weren’t sure of the cat’s coat colour as it was dark in the night, but under the afternoon light, it seemed to be matted and had blood streaks on it. You could clearly see it from where you crouched down but did not move closer to it, learning from last night that it doesn’t like close contact.

Your stomach grumbles loudly. You sighed, getting up from your odd position on the floor and went to the kitchen. You were halfway through your own lunch when you decided to feed him. You got up from your chair, opened a can of soft food and poured it into an aluminium bowl as well as filling the top with a spoonful of kibbles. Then you mixed warm water in another and placed both bowls at the left edge of the sofa, hoping that the cat under there would be tempted to come out to eat with your back faced away from him. The noises from the bowls approved of the action.

Yoongi was hungry - starving. He couldn’t be bothered by what type of food you gave him, as long as you gave him food. He munched on the shredded chicken which was surprisingly nice with the extra crunch of the fish kibbles. He was hesitant at first, wondering if he should leave from under the sofa but the food was too tempting to waste.

The first bite down could have him crying. He didn’t have such high-quality food, human or cat food, for a really long time. The last time he had that was with one of his nicer owners. They were like family - he gets good stuff if he is a good kitty - until everything went to hell. He never intended to be caught but since he was already here, why not eat and then go?

Yes, yes that sounded like a good plan. A very good plan.

Except that plan never went as said.

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wannaeatramyeon · 9 months

Note

Alright hear me out.. Jonggun x a big deal member reader.. 🫣 like, both of us hating each other to guts, but somehow an odd feeling causes us to desire to spend time with each other etc while not even knowing the reason, and once gun feels close enough to us to inform us about his Yakuza clan and his whole shiro oni side, it turns out we were actually gun's childhood friend back then 🤭

Anon. You'll be the death of me. Apologies for the delayed response as usual! I started this today with a small idea. Came back to it tonight and 2k words later, it's now nearly 2am. I... I think I really like this. Let's sleep on it anyway. Hope it hits the spot and thanks for requesting!

Gun Park x Big Deal!Reader: Yamazaki Yuzuru

G/N. Enemies to lovers. (...Childhood friends turned enemies to lovers).

Cynics would say you sold your body in a different way, although you hate to think about it like that. You suppose that it may seem so for someone on the outside looking in.

Big Deal is famous for its passion, its romance. You never thought it applied to you. Not like it did to others.

The first time you meet on Big Deal street, Gun studies you. Gaze hidden under his sunglasses, curiosity piqued as he wonders who you are.

A sea of gangsters but your face sticks out like a sore thumb. Familiar. Like a distant memory just out of reach, like trying to recall a dream.

Notices your scar-littered knuckles faded silver with time. Hardly unusual for gang members yet Gun still peers down at his own hands.

They're similar. Almost matching. A pair.

Ever watchful eyes burn into the side of your head.

When you turn in his direction, you know for certain he is only looking at you.

Age old scars start to itch. Absentmindedly, you scratch at your hands.

Gun asks for your name during your second meeting.

"Who are you?"

Jake Kim frowns, searches your face for a reason why he would be asking you. Why he would be taking an interest.

You give your boss an imperceptible shrug.

"None of your business," is all you offer. Clipped. Brusque. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for Big Deal by outright ignoring him.

What you mean to spit is fuck you.

What you mean to scream is I want to kill you with my bare hands.

You don't look at him today.

"Oh, this one is feisty," Goo Kim steps forward, duffle bag of cash in hand and eyes roving over you with approval.

Trouble still finds you.

Jaw clenching, hands scrunching into fists; Jake ready to defend his crew-

Gun beats him to the punch.

"Let's go. The money is all there."

His blonde associate throws him an odd look. Nevertheless, they still leave. You're not sure if you've ever seen anything better than their retreating backs.

Big Deal survives for another day.

Your luck runs out on your third meeting.

Gun finds you when you're miles from Big Deal and alone. When the rain drenches the earth and the air suffocates. When instead of water bringing life, it brings an omen.

This time you have no choice but to look at him, glaring into his pitch-black eyes. Fear eclipsed by loathing as he holds his umbrella over you, downpour providing a shroud and shielding the two of you from the world.

A strange game of silence starts, neither of you wanting to speak first.

Minutes tick by. The feeling of hatred is tiring to keep up. Holding onto the anger at the surface drains you. Infinitesimally your gaze starts to soften until Gun's curiosity is mirrored in yours.

To your surprise, he cracks first.

He tells you he recognises the vitriol in your voice from last time, no matter how much you thought you had successfully veiled it.

(A tiny smirk, almost fond, graces his features as he is reminded of your animosity.)

Offers you a chance, an escape line, a tantalising small glimmer of hope for Big Deal to leave the four crews.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, he proposes, "You can have your freedom if you can kill me."

Oh?

The odds are not in your favour. You agree anyway.

You manage to land a hit on his left arm, even as he turns and deflects most of the damage with a roll of his shoulder.

Had it been successful, it would have left it limp and hanging. Unfortunately, Gun only seem inconvenienced at best.

Your next attack manages to break the skin on his cheek. You miss your mark, wanting to gouge out his eyes instead.

Still, seeing the trickle of blood pleases you.

Gun Park takes no prisoners. Aims to incapacitate at the best of times, if not to maim or kill.

The thrill and adrenaline surges once he notices the cut. Feels the blood rushing to the surface and it already swelling.

He lunges after you, launching an open hand strike straight for your chest.

Throwing up both arms just in time, you manage to negate most of the intensity of his hit. Even still, you are flung to the other side of the street and hard into the ground.

Death would have been on the cards if not for your quick thinking.

When Gun sees the crimson falling from your lips, you spluttering and winded, choking on your own blood and body barely able to move-

All he can think about is how intriguing it is that you are still breathing. How peculiar that you managed to defend yourself, like you had foreseen his move. How mesmerising that particular shade of red.

Gun doesn't kill you today.

He tells you you have failed and leaves you to wallow in your own humiliation. You watch his figure growing smaller into the distance and find no joy in this retreat.

Blood and sweat mingles with the rain, cold seeps into your bones. When you think all hope is lost-

You catch a glimpse of maroon beneath your nails. Even as your body lies broken and beaten, you think of how you have managed to spill droplets of Gun Park's own blood.

It's a pleasant thought.

The fourth time he asks again for your name.

You wonder how he manages to find you once more during heavy showers.

As if he is only able to venture out during storms, like a worm awakened with the pitter patter of raindrops and slithering out of wet soil.

Fitting.

Amused both at this and the audacity of his question, you chuckle at his tenacity. The action causes you to wince. Body still recovering, a result of your fight from last time.

Gun takes a step forward and you flinch away immediately. Worsening your injury, grimacing and groaning as black spots appear in your vision.

"Stop," he orders and you are tempted to do it again just to defy him. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself. I'll ask you for the final time, what is your name?"

In no fit state to fight, loss inevitable even if you were, you finally give it up.

You tell him through gritted teeth and a seed is planted in his mind.

"And you know mine."

"Gun Park."

He loves the fury in your voice. He wants to hear you say it again.

Gun slams you into a wall during the fifth time. Pins your arms above your head as you thrash against his hold.

Desperately trying to regain your footing, regain your strength as he has once again bested you.

He leans into your ear, voice taunting and infuriating. "Y/N." Relishes the way your name sounds, "You've failed again."

You whip your head around, ready to do something, anything. Bile in your throat and venom on the tip of your tongue-

His face is centimetres away from yours, breath hot and your skin prickles.

Own breath hitching as he drops his eyes to your lips. Desire and hunger plain on his face.

He doesn't lean forward and you wish he did.

He lets you go and you wish he didn't.

You hate yourself for it.

Sleep becomes difficult. You lie awake at night and think about him. Replay the scene in your head.

Your self hatred builds.

Thoughts of what-ifs tiptoe through your mind during the day. Conjures up scenarios of what if Gun Park actually did brush his lips against yours.

You hate yourself more than you hate him.

Like a self fulfilling prophecy, it happens during the sixth meeting.

All fight dissipates from you as your traitorous mind wanders and strays.

Gun Park catches your fist. He doesn't shove you away. Sees your pupils blown huge with lust and slams your body into his instead.

Your lips crash together, all teeth and snarls. It is both everything and nothing like you had imagined.

The umbrella lies forgotten on the ground as he rams you up against a wall in a forgotten alleyway.

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes into you.

Meetings end in a stalemate.

Meetings end in more sordid alleyways. A quick and dirty sprint to the finish line.

In backseats, cramped and rushed and hot. Leather sticking to sweat slick skin, windows fogging up with steam.

In hotel rooms and tangled sheets.

In walks of shame at 3am.

In showers, exploring each other's bodies.

In baths with your back against his chest.

In his bed and waking up together in the morning.

You don't act differently when Gun Park and Goo Kim come to collect their dues.

But the bruises left by his fingers under your Big Deal uniform pulses and throbs.

You still hate yourself but you hate Gun less.

Seeing him reminds you of the way he moans your name. The additional scars you've scratched into his back. The way his hips rock against yours.

(When it's just you two, you can't bring yourself to hate him at all.)

You stay still and silent as Goo counts the bills.

Under his sunglasses, Gun always observes you.

"Where did you get these scars?"

Gun traces over your knuckles. Touch gentle and tentative. A far cry from your first contact.

Truthfully you can hardly even remember. It was another life. In the land of the rising sun, when you saw the world through childhood innocence.

You piece together what you can.

"I used to spar when I was younger. With another boy that was on my street..."

Eyes affecting a far off look, reliving what you can of your memory.

Snapshots of a small stature, below average for his age but lightning fast reflexes and a terrifying strength.

You were never a match for him. Not really. But he still insisted on seeing you everyday.

Training together. Developing a language of your own through punches and kicks.

Above all, you fought. But that small quiet boy, who talked infrequently, whose bite was just as bad as his bark gave you the first taste of something real.

"You lost more than you won." Gun's voice cuts through. You thought they were teasing words but- "Cried when he beat you and he would bribe you to shut up. Spent three summers together getting stronger until he had to leave."

Gun holds his own scarred hand up.

You remember the scar the boy got when you kicked him into the ground, how you bandaged it afterwards. Unravelling as soon as you wrapped it, handiwork sloppy and inexperienced.

The scars when you both would practice your punches, strengthening tendons wherever you could. On whatever surfaces available.

And one scar in particular: when you bit down hard on his hand after a particularly gruelling fight and refused to give him the victory.

How have you missed this? How has the string of fate managed to stretch across land and oceans and borders and years?

The fog lifts and the name slams into your mind.

"Yuzuru."

Gun kisses you, hand cupping the back of your head and other curling around your waist. Whispers your own name against your lips. The one you were born with. The one he used to call you.

A name you haven't heard in years, but he never forgot.

"Say my name again." His voice is rough, choked.

"Yamazaki Yuzuru."

He kisses you more fiercely than ever before.

The first meeting wasn’t on Big Deal street. It wasn't even in South Korea.

You didn't sell your body.

The Big Deal passion and romance flares within you. It just always belonged to someone else.

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun #park jonggun x reader #lookism fic #wannaeatramyeon #edit: yeah... this has shot to the top of my faves 🥹

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storiesiwrite · 4 months

Text

Home ☾ Lee Seokmin

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 5026

Summary: In which you’re having one of those days when it’s a struggle to be kind to yourself, and Seokmin makes sure you feel appreciated and loved.

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Seokmin has a gnawing feeling in his gut that tells him you’re not feeling your best today.

It’s evident in the text messages you leave him throughout the day, in your unusual choice of words. Just a small difference, but a difference all the same, and he knows you too well to miss the signs.

Perhaps it also has something to do with your tendency to hide behind a smile even as you’re buried deep in your struggles. You don’t like the idea of people around you noticing. Seokmin would know; as terrible a habit as it is, it’s one that he and you both share.

Suffice it to say, it isn’t long before he begins losing his concentration at work. Completing the simplest of tasks eventually becomes a challenge, but he can hardly expect anything else when you’re constantly on his mind.

The moment his seven-hour shift is over, he wastes no time packing up his things and clocking out of work. The original—and usual—plan has been to head straight home, but those texts of yours made him change his mind. He decides to make a detour instead, making sure to snag a couple of your favorite desserts along the way.

It begins to drizzle shortly afterwards, the skies painted in shades of midnight blue that signal an impending downpour. Not the most ideal situation, but he doesn’t mind the rain beating down on him as he runs down the streets. Doesn’t see the negative because all that matters to him is that he is coming home to you.

Please, he says in a hopeful whisper, please hang on until I get there.

And by the time he reaches the door to your shared apartment, his clothes have been completely soaked through, and he fights to catch his breath. His keys are somewhere in the depths of his sling bag, but retrieving them with both hands occupied would be a hassle, which is why he resorts to pressing the bell with one side of his knuckle. It doesn’t take long before he hears shuffling on the other side and the door cracks open.

The sight that greets him breaks his heart into slivers.

You’re standing there beyond the threshold, your eyes puffy, the dark circles beneath them more pronounced than ever. Faint blotches of red have spread across your cheeks and nose, as if you’ve spent an ample amount of time rubbing them raw. You’re faring worse than he imagined, yet despite everything, you still manage to smile.

Though said smile falls the moment you take in his drenched state.

“Oh, Seok,” you say, concern etched on your features as you quickly pull him inside and shut the door.

He settles down the desserts on the small side table (thank the heavens they were wrapped in plastic, otherwise they would not have survived the terrible weather). Peeling off his wet jacket, he places it atop a drying rack nearby and watches as you dash towards the bathroom with a frown on your face.

“Did you forget to bring an umbrella?” You call out to him, reappearing mere seconds later with a clean towel in one hand. He can’t help but smile at the gesture, so endearing it warms him despite the cold seeping through his skin.

“Well, um, I was in a hurry this morning, and it completely slipped my mind,” he explains as you take his hand, leading him towards the kitchen. When you tell him to sit on one of the shorter stools there, he simply obliges. Standing there in front of him, your face level with his own, you begin drying his face and neck with the towel.

It’s not that he actually needs your help—he can pat himself dry perfectly well—but he accepts it anyway, sees it as an opportunity to truly look at you.

This should feel comforting. This nearness with you, this form of intimacy he would never want to share with anyone else. And in other cases, he’s certain it would. But never in the two years of your relationship has he had this much trouble gazing at you. Especially like this, up close with your bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks. It hurts him to acknowledge that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him the most.

And still, he doesn’t look away. He knows he has to say something, has to begin the conversation somehow.

“I’m sorry, love,” he tries. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

With a shake your head, you say, “I know, and you don’t need to apologize for that. But please, promise me you’ll remember to take your umbrella with you next time?” You move on to his wet hair, gently dabbing it dry. “I just don’t want you to get sick, is all.”

He gives you a small smile. You’ve always been so caring of others; it’s one of the many things he adores about you. “I will. Promise.”

“Good.” There it is, a small upward tug of your lips. It’s a start.

“I actually swung by the bakery earlier,” he says, nodding to the table near the door where the desserts lie waiting. “Bought some of those glazed donuts you love.”

You follow his gaze. “Did you?”

“Yeah, and I also brought home some boba.”

Your mouth opens slightly in delighted surprise, your eyes crinkling. “You have to stop spoiling me, Seok! I don’t think I can keep up.”

“Not planning on that any time soon. You’re just going to have to put up with it.”

A soft laugh escapes you. “I guess so.” You push the towel aside when you’re done, running your fingers through his unkempt hair in an attempt to tidy it. “There. Better?”

He leans towards you to kiss you on the lips. “Better. Thank you, love.”

“Don’t mention it.” You cup his face in your hands, and he leans against your touch.

He steals yet another brief kiss from you. “You okay? I haven’t asked you how your day was.”

He feels you tense slightly, though your expression remains neutral. “It was good. Spent the whole day at home today, got to relax a lot. You know how much I like staying in.” You chuckle with a strain that hasn’t escaped his notice. “How was yours?”

“Well, work was more hectic than usual, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’m just glad to be back home.”

“So am I, Seok. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love,” he murmurs. I’m with you now, he wants to add. You can talk to me.

But you say nothing, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against his. Seokmin’s thoughts begin to wander as he weighs his options: should he be straightforward and ask you outright, or should he wait until you’re ready to talk? He imagines the latter would be the better solution, but he knows you well enough to know that you always try to bottle your feelings up.

He recalls the first time you broke down in tears in front of him; it was early on in the relationship, and you were in your fourth semester in university. You’d been given an assignment, one you were struggling to finish under the pressure of its nearing deadline. Naturally, it made you compare yourself to others who you thought were miles ahead of you.

He remembers having a hard time stringing together the words to console you, because seeing you in such pain wounded him in ways he could never describe.

“You can tell me,” he could only manage back then, his arms wrapped around you as if that alone could shield you from all the pain in the world. He’d take it in your stead if he could. “Whatever it is that’s upsetting you, you can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh. I promise I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, that’s not it, not at all,” you’d replied in between sniffles. “It’s just me overthinking again. I know it’s stupid.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss how you feel.” He kept repeating these words. But it seemed like nothing he was saying truly left its mark on you.

“You-you’ve also had enough on your plate already, and I wouldn’t want to add to that—”

“It doesn’t matter, love. Even if I do have enough on my plate, I still wouldn’t mind. I’d still want you to come to me.”

Your body shook as you tried and failed to contain your sobs. “I’m so, so sorry, Seok, I didn’t mean to cry but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I... I didn’t mean to ruin the night. I didn’t to be an inconvenience to you.”

Oh, he thought, his heart breaking in two. He never even once saw you that way. He never, not even for a split second, thought you were an inconvenience.

He couldn’t understand why you felt guilty for feelings you had no way of controlling. He couldn’t understand why you felt ashamed of being human. He could only hug you tighter, could only watch like a fool as you fell apart in his arms.

And then he felt it, simmering beneath the surface—anger.

Anger at whomever it was that had the gall to make you believe you were ever an inconvenience. Anger at himself for having failed you so terribly. He’s your boyfriend, for god’s sake. You were supposed to be able to trust with him. And clearly he’d done an awful job at making you realize that he doesn’t mind you crying in front of him.

He doesn’t mind sharing the emotional burden you’ve always insisted upon carrying all by yourself. None of it matters to him if it means that you’ll feel less alone.

And this time, he won’t repeat the same mistakes again.

He pulls away to look at you, and your eyes snap open at the movement, your hands dropping away from his face.

“You sure everything’s alright?” He asks you again. “You don’t sound well at all.”

“Mhm. My nose has been stuffy since this afternoon, I think. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, nothing a few cups of tea won’t fix.” You take a few steps back from him, decidedly avoiding his gaze. “Why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up and then we eat?”

The warmth in your tone from earlier has chipped away, replaced by a stiffness he’s grown all too familiar with. The kind that always tinges your voice whenever you’re dodging the truth. The kind that tells him you’re building your walls back up.

Alright, then, he thinks to himself. Waiting it is.

“I’m gonna get a bath running for you, okay?” You say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze.”

He stands up from the chair so quickly he nearly stumbles. “No, no, that’s alright.” He moves closer to you. “You don’t have to. I’ve got it.”

“No, no. I can do it for you.” You’re still not looking at him in the eye. “You must be tired from all that work.”

His jaw clenches a little. Even as you’re struggling, you try to put everyone else before you. You refuse to let him take care of you.

And finally, after a long silence from his end, he makes himself nod.

“Okay, then. I won’t take long.”

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

God, you think to yourself, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands. What a long, shitty day it has been.

You never knew staying at home the whole day could leave you so emotionally drained. It began the moment you realized you’d nearly missed an important online meeting because you’d thought it was scheduled for tomorrow. In your rush to get yourself prepared for said meeting, you managed to spill coffee all over your work papers, the smudged ink rendering the words illegible.

After the meeting, it took you seemingly-endless hours trying to salvage whatever remains of these papers. Because these papers are the same ones you’ve spent months carefully drafting, writing, and revising after every feedback from your boss. The same ones you’ve spent countless of sleepless nights poring over to see if there is anything you’ve missed, to make sure all the details are in line with the facts.

And for someone who thrives with the help of daily to-do lists, this whole thing stresses you out. Your schedule for the week is already very packed as it is, and the idea of not doing a few tasks that you really wanted to get done today, all because of this stupid, stupid mistake of yours that you could have easily avoided...

You feel like screaming. And you certainly feel like an idiot. What makes you think you could pull off juggling a university major with part-time work?

By now Seokmin must have already figured things out, despite your earlier efforts to pass it off as nothing more than symptoms of a cold. But there’s no doubt that he knows. He’s too observant to have missed anything.

And the fact that you’ve spent the last thirty minutes or so sequestering yourself in the bathroom isn’t helping your case. Try as you might, you don’t have it in you to face him like this, not when it’s so obvious that you’re frustrated. More frustrated than you probably have the right to feel.

Then there’s a soft knock on the door. It clicks open and Seokmin’s face slides into view. “Hey, love. May I come in?”

You nod, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, of course.” You pretend to pat your hands dry. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, shutting the door behind him. He moves closer until he stands right behind you, his hands finding your waist, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. “Just that you’re taking so long in here and I’m starting to miss you.”

A laugh weaves its way out of you—the first genuine one of the day. You’re not surprised; if there’s anyone you know who can lift your sunken spirits in a matter of seconds, it has to be him.

“I miss you too, Seok.” You turn around to properly look at him, putting your arms around his body, his warmth enveloping you as he reciprocates the gesture. “You know, I was actually thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“What about a movie after this? I wanna get all cozy with you and watch something while we eat the snacks you bought earlier.”

His smile is soft as he regards you. “Sounds like a plan. Got anything specific in mind?”

“Not really, no. But I think I want something light-hearted. Like a rom-com? Would that be okay with you?”

“I’m okay with anything you want.” He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Just pick a movie, and I’ll get it up and running in no time.”

“Okay.”

As a comfortable sort of silence takes over, you allow yourself to think you got away with it, to hope that Seokmin would sweep it under the rug this time. But then his smile falls, a graver expression now taking its place, and that hope gutters out as easily as an unsteady flame. You stiffen, already knowing where this is going even before he speaks.

“But first, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Of course. You knew he would catch on, but that knowledge doesn’t make this confrontation any easier.

You try to keep your voice from wavering, forcing down the lump on your throat. “What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.” His fingers brush the darkened skin under your eyes, run down the side of your blotched cheek, as if to say, I can see right through you. The gesture feels so intimate that you have to look away, only to regret it immediately. It gives you away, leaves you with no choice except to start confessing.

“You knew?” The words escape you in an embarrassed whisper. What a stupid question to ask. Of course he knew. He probably found out the moment he stepped into the apartment, the lingering signs of your frustration clear as day.

“Yeah. When you sent me those texts earlier this morning, I knew something was wrong.”

Oh. And here you thought you were being subtle enough.

Seokmin hesitates for a moment, as if sorting out his thoughts. “I was... I was going to wait until you’re ready to talk,” he says by way of explanation, his brow lined with worry. “But I can’t stand not doing anything when you’ve locked yourself in here for the past half hour. I can’t stand the idea of sitting still when you’re just one door away and it’s clear that you’re not alright.”

You squeeze your eyes shut like you’d just seen a sight that stung.

“You can tell me,” he continues. “You don’t have to keep it from me.”

“I know that, Seok. I just...” you trail off, finding that it keeps getting harder and harder to hold back the emotions threatening to drown you. It takes you some time to muster the courage to look him in the eye again. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me if it upsets you like this. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? What is there to even talk about? Nothing really happened; you spent the whole day just contending with that cruel voice in your head that always tells you you’re not enough. That you’ll never be enough, especially because you manage to mess up even the simplest, most trivial of things. Especially because you let said things ruin your whole day.

It’s embarrassing.

At your silence, Seokmin shifts closer to you. “Talk to me, love. I’m here for you. I won’t judge you, I promise.” His voice is so gentle that for a moment, you’re tempted to just give in and tell him everything.

This isn’t about the lack of trust; it has never been, and even Seokmin himself knows that. And neither is this about worrying what his response would be. If there is anything your past experiences with him can tell you, it’s that he deals with your breakdowns in a loving, gentle way. Every single time.

He’s aware of your mind’s tendency to shove one worst-case scenario upon another until you’ve run out of space and energy to think about anything rational. Admittedly, it’s not the healthiest habit, and you’ve been trying to unlearn it, but sometimes there are days when you simply can’t cope and begin to spiral.

Despite everything, Seokmin always understands. You know he would understand now, but it’s precisely the reason why this is the last thing you would want to talk about. He’s the kind of person who feels deeply, who doesn’t need to try too hard to put himself in other people’s shoes. That act of sympathizing can be so draining, and you’re not willing to subject him to that. His work is exhausting as it is without you having to pile your struggles atop of his own.

All you can offer him now is a tight-lipped smile. “I wasn’t lying when I said it’s not a big deal.”

He shakes his head. “It’s clear to me that it is. And even if it’s not, I’ll still want to hear it all the same.”

The small, knowing tug of his lips tells you he can see what’s running through your mind. You find yourself having to bite back a dry laugh. Ridiculous, really, how you bother trying to hide things from him when he knows you as well as the back of his own hand.

“Even if it’s something I’ve told you many, many times before?” You ask, still giving him the option to move past this.

“Even so. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. We’ll figure it out, the way we always do.”

His kindness leaves a gaping hole in your aching heart. This, you think to yourself, this isn’t something you deserve. You’ve simply been fortunate enough to have crossed paths with him that one fateful night in a certain cafe, that night that changed the trajectory of everything else that came along afterwards.

A tear slips down your cheek. Then another. Disappointed in yourself, you forcefully rub your eyes, only to have him reach out to stop what you’re doing.

He winces a little, as though he were the one on the receiving end of your roughness. “Careful, you’ll hurt yourself like that.” His thumb brushes against your cheek. “Here, let me do it for you.”

And it is at this moment that you finally break, the walls you’ve built to keep your emotions at bay crumbling under his touch as he slowly wipes away your tears. He treats you with the utmost care as you cry on his shoulder, listens to you as you try to recount to him all that has happened today. His attention stays undivided the whole time, even as you stutter or can’t seem to find the words to express how you feel.

“I know it’s the same problem every time,” you sob. You hate the way your voice breaks all over. “I know it may seem like... like I’m not changing at all, but I truly am trying my best, Seok.”

His free hand draws soothing lines down your back. “I know that, love. I have never once doubted you. And I can understand how hard it is to overcome this. But you can. You’ve gotten so much better than you give yourself credit for.”

That reminder that you don’t deserve him flits through your mind yet again, scolding you for not feeling ashamed. But the look on his face shows not even the slightest hint of ridicule or disappointment. Seokmin simply holds you in his arms and whispers in your ear over and over that everything will be alright. You want so badly to believe him.

Sniffing, you pull slightly away to meet his gaze. You don’t care for the redness in your eyes or the tear stains on your cheeks. It’s important that he hears this from you and sees the sincerity behind it. “You’re being so good to me, Seok. Too good to me. You always... you’re always doing so much more than I ever deserve—”

“Don’t say that—”

“And I can only hope that you’re alright with being stuck with me. I know I can be a lot to handle, and I can’t imagine I’m easy to love.”

At that, he stops talking, stares at you as though he has a hard time believing what he’s heard. As though waiting for you to take back your words.

And when you don’t, he asks, his voice low and serious, “Why do you think that way?”

Because you can’t think otherwise. Would he not grow tired of your problems? Would he not grow tired of you? Who wouldn’t when it’s the same shit over and over again?

He takes your silence as a sign to go on. “Do you really think that that’s how I feel about you? That you’re difficult to love because you go through problems sometimes? Because you have feelings like real people do, like I do?”

Pain flashes across his features, along with something else. It takes you a while to recognize it as anger, though you know that anger isn’t directed at you; rather, it’s on your behalf. “I’m so, so sorry that you were made to feel like you have no right to be sad or upset when things are difficult. But I’m here to remind you that whatever it is you feel, it’s valid.”

You say nothing in return, feeling the weight of his words as they sink in.

“I’ve seen the way you treat others,” he continues. “I’ve seen how deeply you appreciate and care for them. You don’t think twice when it comes to helping people, even the ones you barely know. But I’ve never seen even just a shred of that same kindness when it comes to yourself. You constantly beat yourself up for simply being human, and you have no idea how much that breaks my heart.

“And it makes me wish you’d see yourself the way I see you, because maybe then you’d come to learn all the wonderful qualities you have that you always seem to look past.” He lifts your hand to his lips, leaving a trail of kisses along your knuckles. “You’re a student working a part-time job; don’t you realize how impressive that is? Not to mention the fact that you’re getting better and better at not overthinking when it used to be tough for you. All this progress has never escaped my notice or anyone else’s, just your own.”

You’ve calmed down by now, your crying reduced to small sniffles. It’s still hard to keep your eyes open, and it’s even harder to come up with a response. But you’re content with simply hearing what he has to say, and your heart is full of tenderness and warmth. He’s never once failed to make you feel so loved.

“And as for what you said earlier about me being stuck with you”—he pecks your lips softly—“I hope you know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to love you any less because of your struggles.”

His declaration hits a little too close to home, rubbing at a lifelong wound that has yet to heal. After all, the reason why you hadn’t wanted to get into a relationship before Seokmin came into the picture was fear. Fear that once your partner discovers just how ugly and messy things can get for you, how much emotional baggage you carry, they will leave.

A part of you has always known that confiding in Seokmin would make it hurt less. But a greater, selfish part of you is afraid that he’d grow tired of putting up with you and your constant problems. Maybe you’d never dare to admit it out loud, but the truth is that you would rather struggle alone in silence than lose him altogether due to your honesty.

But Seokmin sees through all that. And instead of leaving, he stands by your side and holds your hand through it. He holds your broken pieces as you try to stitch them back together.

And all the things he’s said about you... you know he truly means every one of them. He’s genuine in everything he says and does. But you can’t wrap your head around the idea of someone great like him can see you that way. It’s a surreal thought, one you never dared to entertain before now.

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you’ve been too hard on yourself. You’re certain that if it were anyone else going through the same, exact motions as you are now, you wouldn’t tell them the hurtful things you hurl at yourself at any given chance. And you’ve always known that progress is never linear, and falling down once or even a dozen times doesn’t eliminate all the previous steps you’ve taken. It doesn’t diminish all that you’ve accomplished, all that you’ve done to be better.

Whatever it was that Seokmin saw in you that one night from two years ago, when he asked you to be his, it doesn’t matter. For the millionth time, you’re so glad you took the leap and trusted that he would catch you.

All these new thoughts running through your head, all these feelings of fondness and love for him coursing through you, yet you can only manage to ask him this: “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know all the right things to say every time.”

He lets out a small laugh, relieved that you’re no longer as upset as you’ve been before. “Because I’m only saying the truth. Loving you is a commitment, a decision I make every single day. And that decision comes easily, willingly, because you’re so, so easy to love.”

You feel like crying all over again, but for the right reasons this time. God, you really are the luckiest person in the world. “So are you, Seok. I hope you know that, too,” you say as you pull him into a hug.

“Feeling any better?” You may not be able to see him, but you just know that he’s grinning.

“Yeah.” You nestle up against him. You don’t ever want to let go. “Thank you for always hearing me out. For not only accepting me as I am, but also encouraging me to be the best version I can be.”

“I can say the same thing to you, too.” He kisses your brow. “Thank you, love. For all the times you’ve held my hand and kept me grounded and going when it’s so easy to give up. You’ve been there for me in ways I can never explain, and I’m so, so grateful.”

It truly is the least you can do for him. You snuggle your head into his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Thank you for always giving the best hugs.”

He laughs heartily at that. “You can have all the hugs you want, I promise. But I need you to promise me one thing in return. Promise you’ll never hesitate to let me know whenever you’re not feeling okay. I’m here for you, and I don’t want you to go through things alone. I want you to let me take care of you.”

You glance up, your eyes meeting his. “I promise, as long as you do the same and let me take care of you, too.” And when he nods, you add, “I love you.”

He’s beaming so widely that you can’t help but do the same. “I love you, too.”

It’s been true all along: home is not a place but a person, after all.

— ☽ —

author’s note: not so proud of how this fanfic turned out, but i’m still glad i got it done because it truly helped me get through a tough time. i hope that you find comfort reading it as i did writing it. lots of love and take care ♡

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bellarkeselection · 4 months

Text

Breathe With Me

Request from @val2557 imagine of Kayce Dutton and he is helping the reader when she has a an anxiety attack when there is a lot of people at a dinner they are attending?

Everybody that knew who the Dutton family were had started making their own judgments about my relationship with Kayce. His father John always asked his kids to show up to the Livestock dinner party but it was rare that they all showed up. Beth didn’t see the point in it, Lee was focusing on running the ranch, Jaime was trying to run for office and that left the reason Kayce didn’t go to them….me.

I wanted to attend the dinners I really did. There was just one problem. I had anxiety when it came to large crowds who I felt were judging me. Running my hands down the light orange dress I was wearing I sighed letting my mind wander with my thoughts. “Come on Y/n. You can make it through this.”

“Y/n, are you ready….wow.” Whipping my head around I heard my boyfriend’s voice enter the bedroom.

I turned around making my short brown boots screech against the wooden floor. Normally I had my hair up in a braid but I decided to leave it loose and just put some curls on the ends. “Is it too much. I don’t know how you dress for a livestock dinner.”

“It’s not that. You….damn you look good.” Kayce gasped slowly crossing the floor until he was standing in front of me.

I smiled eyeing him in a tux for once. “You clean up rather good too, Dutton.” He had his normal black cowboy hat on his head paired with a white dress shirt and a black suit jacket.

“Are you sure you’re up for tonight. We can just stay home. My father will understand why.” He suggested to me.

I teased him trying to not have the conversation. “You just want to stay home so we can lay in bed all night.”

“I mean you weren’t complaining last time when we had sex for hours….but I am being serious about not wanting you to be nervous.” Kayce pointed out to me with a smirk on his face leaning closer to me kissing my forehead. He wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me against his chest gently.

Shaking my head in disagreement I draped my arms over his shoulders kissing his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Kayce. Tonight is important for your father and he want him to keep liking me if you ever want to put your mother’s ring on my finger.” He nodded looping his arm through mine leading me to his truck since we said we would meet him there later.

The drive wasn’t that bad since we just listened to county music until we parked the truck outside the building. He helped me out of the truck and we walked in together not holding hands since I wanted to appear confident during the dinner. Kayce had me walk in front of him opening the next door wheee I gulped coming into contact with a room of livestock members all talking. “Hey, look at me. Just tap me if you need to go and we will.”

“I got it, Kayce.” I nodded moving through the crowd of people finding our table and name tags at the very front.

John walked out onto the stage nodding his head down at us as a silent thank you for being here the second we sat down in our chairs. Lee was there but Beth and Jaime’s spots were still empty. “Since 1886 every Dutton who died is buried 300 yards from my back porch. My great, great, grandfather, to my wife, and someday I will be there myself. When a tree grows on my ranch, I know exactly what fed it. That’s the best we can hope for because nothing we do is for today. Ranching is the only business where the goal is to break even. Survive another season. Last long enough for your children to continue the cycle, and maybe just maybe, the land is still there when a tree sprouts from you…lord god give us rain and a little luck and we’ll do the rest, amen.”

I smiled, watching his speech feeling fine until I heard someone next to our table whispering. "I can't believe they came tonight."

"My boys were joking that they don't come because she might be pregnant." Another mumbled to their friend.

Reaching for the fork on the table I attempted to push past the tightness I could feel beginning to surface in my chest. "But there is someone I'd like to recognize tonight because she has been a great member of the family for a while now. Y/n L/n, I appreciate everything you do for this family."

"Hey are you okay?” Kayce shifted his gaze over to me seeing my chest heaving up and down. I was also clutching the fork in my hand until my fingers were almost turning white.

Lee glanced our direction beginning to clap at the end of his speech. “Congrats to Y/n and my father.”

Everybody around us joined in the clapping and cheering while John made his way over to our table. He sat down in the chair next to me. I shifted my gaze around the room quickly in a panic seeing my vision start to get blurry. “Y/n?” Kayce calls my name the second I dropped the fork and it clattered to the floor and I jumped up rushing through the crowd to the bathroom.

Shutting the door quickly I gasped for breath sliding down onto the floor to catch my breath. Gripping my hair in between my fingers I was so annoyed at myself. I shouldn’t have ran out of the room like that but I didn’t know what else to do. “Y/n, darling. Can I come in?”

“Yeah…” I croaked out wiping away the and getting up from the ground floor when he opened the door and shut it so nobody would see me crying in there.

Kayce stared at me silently for a moment seeing that I was shaking in my boots. Wrapping my arms around myself I felt like I still couldn’t breathe even though the tightness in my chest had gone away. He opened his arms and tilted his head telling me to com here. “Sssh I’ve got you. I’m right here…it’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it….how badly do you think I embarrassed your father leaving like that?” I sniffed through tears gripping onto his dress shirt as tightly as possible.

He just keeps me close to his chest resting his chin on top of my head. He knew that I was going to worry about this when there was something more important like my well being going on. He wasn’t concerned with what the others out there thought, he just wanted me to be okay. “It doesn’t matter right now. Just breathe in and out with me until you’re better. Can you do that for me?”

“Mmm.” I made a noise barley breaking the hug where he was holding onto my forearms since I still didn’t have good balance. Taking in a couple of long breaths in and out I finally started feeling better where I laid my head back down on his chest and he kissed my forehead.

Kayce smiled lightly squeezing my hand in his. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll explain what happened to my dad later.”

“Are you sure he won’t be upset?” I questioned him where he leads me through the hallway and out to his truck. He helped me back into the vehicle before getting in on his own side.

He reached over taking my hand in his once more. “I’m sure, baby. I just want you to feel better.”

“Thanks Kayce.” I smiled laying my head on his shoulder and we stayed in the parking lot just enjoying the silence before we went home for the evening. Both calm in the others presence and away from the busy livestock diner.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#kayce dutton #kayce dutton x fem!reader #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton imagine #luke grimes #yellowstone series #yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone masterlist #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone x reader #ask box is open for anything #requests open #comments really appreciated #anxiety attack #yellowstone one shot

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praisethegabs · 7 months

Text

FREAK

Re2r!Leon x Scientist!Reader

synopsis: Leon is a test subject, a freak. He can't remember the world outside, and he doesn't have any notion of time. All he knows is pain. He doesn't have any hope left. He knows he'll die in there, completely alone, traumatized and scared. Until he meets you, the new leading supervisor.

warnings: angst, mentions of torture, blood, psychological abuse, trust issues, umbrella being umbrella. If you feel uncomfortable with this type of subject, DO NOT read it.

word count: 5106k

a/n: i got inspired by the c.ai bot from driftedlovers and made my own version after weeks chatting with the said bot. dividers are from @cafekitsune ♡

some people survive chaos, and this is how they grow. and some people thrive in chaos because chaos is all they know (unknown author)

Inside the white walls, Leon had no idea how the day was outside, if it was cold, raining, or if it was a sunny day.

He had no windows. All he could see was white every day.

He was there for so long that he barely remembered anything from the outside. His last memory from the world outside was something blue until he woke up inside that padded room.

Now, Leon used to be experimented with almost every day.

He hated when those doctors went inside his room to take him somewhere else. He knew he would feel pain and return to his room with new open wounds, purple marks, and blood. Why? He can't answer.

The only thing he knew was that he was kidnapped by Umbrella. He was their lab rat. A helpless man who was abused and experimented every single day. They didn't care about him at all. He tried to escape a thousand times, but he failed every single one of them.

Today, however, was the worst.

Leon came back from another round of tests and experiments, and he was bleeding a lot. His entire body seemed to be burning with excruciating pain. He was on the verge of tears. He crawled to his bed, his body shaking. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine somewhere peaceful, where he couldn't be hurt or touched by those monsters.

His eyes were about to cry when he heard someone walking inside. He slowly opened his eyes, his heart already beating faster inside his chest with pure fear. He was hoping to be one of the scientists, ready to take him again to the room.

But it wasn't one of the monsters.

"Hey" you said gently at him, your hand holding a first aid kit. "May I?"

You were pointing to his side, he followed your finger to his direction and with those scared eyes, he slightly nodded his head. Leon was taught — in the painful method — he wasn't allowed to talk with the scientists, only to talk when he was spoken to, and he could only say "yes, sir" or "yes, ma'am".

"I'm not gonna hurt you" You smiled very friendly at him, getting closer and kneeling next to his side. "It's okay, you can talk to me. I'm not gonna punish you"

"Who are you?" Leon asked, his voice full of suspicious and fear. You knew he was scared. You actually could tell he was terrified.

"I'm a cool and friendly scientist" You smiled and noticed that his eyes were on your ID, where he could read your name. "I'm the new supervisor. I saw that your ID is Experiment N⁰ One, but I'm not interested in titles and IDs. Can you tell me your name?"

Leon was now shocked. All the time he was in there, no one cared to know his name. To them, he was just a freak, an abomination. A lab rat. But you, you weren't like the others. You were the first person to show him kindness.

"I'm... Leon" he said, and the sound of his own name made him think he almost forgot who he was.

"Nice to meet you, Leon" You smiled again, stretching your hand so he could shake it. You noticed his arm full of scars, new cuts, and blood. "Let's take a look at those injuries, shall we?"

Leon watched you cautiously, his eyes filled with suspicion and fear. He had learned the hard way not to trust anyone in this place. But there was something about your demeanor that made him hesitate. You seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being.

You carefully cleaned and dressed his wounds, your touch surprisingly gentle. As you worked, you noticed the fear in Leon's eyes and spoke in a reassuring tone,

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Leon. I'm here to help, not to hurt." You said gently, using a wet cotton to clean one of his wounds.

You began to clean his wounds with a gentle touch, the antiseptic sting a harsh reminder of his painful existence. Leon winced as you tended to a particularly deep gash on his arm. Then, as if unable to contain his thoughts any longer, he spoke in a soft, broken voice.

"I miss the outside world," he admitted, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't understand why they're using us for these cruel and painful experiments. We're humans, not lab rats."

You paused for a moment, your hands still on his injured arm. Your eyes met his, filled with a mixture of empathy and helplessness.

"I know, Leon," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I wish I had answers for you, but I'm just as much a pawn in this as you are. All I can do is try to ease your pain."

Leon went silent again. He had every reason to be suspicious towards you, and you couldn't blame him for this. Although your touch was gentle, and you moved with a quiet assurance that contrasted with the harsh, you could still feel the clinical atmosphere of the facility. Leon couldn't help but be suspicious, a feeling he had grown accustomed to over time.

As you worked, you noticed the fear in Leon's eyes, the deep-rooted mistrust that had taken hold of him after countless experiments and cruel treatment. You paused again for a moment, looking into his eyes with genuine concern.

"Leon," you began softly, "I can see that you're scared, and you have every reason to be. But I want you to know that I'm different. I'm not like the others who have come before me."

Leon regarded you with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. He had heard similar promises in the past, only to be let down.

"I promise you, Leon, I'll be back to keep you some company. You're not just an experiment here. And I believe in treating you with the respect and kindness you deserve." You continued, yourr voice unwavering.

Leon studied your face, searching for any hint of deception, but he found none. Perhaps it was the sincerity in your eyes, or maybe it was the exhaustion of isolation that made him yearn for human connection once more.

"Okay," Leon whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear. "I'll be here."

"I'll be back, Leon. You're not alone in this anymore." You smiled, a glimmer of warmth in the cold, white, and sterile room.

With that promise, you finished cleaning Leon's wounds and left the room, leaving him with a newfound sense of anticipation and a flicker of hope that had long been extinguished. He was wondering why you were so kind at him because he was betrayed before. He had no reason to trust you.

Leon lay on the bed of his room, the sterile walls bearing silent witness to his torment. The memory of your unexpected kindness lingered in his mind like a flickering candle in the dark. He couldn't help but wonder why you had been different from the others, why you had chosen to treat his wounds with care.

His thoughts churned with suspicion and confusion. The trauma of the countless painful experiments he had endured had left him scarred, both physically and mentally. He had learned to trust no one in this sterile prison, where cruelty was the norm.

As Leon's mind raced, his heart pounded with anxiety. He questioned whether your kindness had been genuine or if it was merely a cruel ploy to manipulate him further. The fear that he had been fooled gnawed at him, twisting his already frayed nerves into tighter knots.

Hours turned into days, and Leon's stress and paranoia grew. He replayed every interaction with you in his mind, dissecting your words and actions for any signs of deceit. But the more he thought, the less he understood. You seemed genuinely different, but how could he be sure?

In the suffocating silence of his padded room, Leon's thoughts became a torment of their own. He longed for answers for a sliver of hope to cling to, but the shadows of doubt and fear loomed large. All he could do was wait, haunted by the uncertainty of your true intentions and the relentless trauma that had brought him to this point.

You were so busy during the weeks that you had no time to see anybody.

You were full with paperwork to do, files to read, and new reports to send to oversight. One file took all of your attention; it was the one from Leon. That said file had every report from the tests he was submitted into and what every supervisor before you did to him. You brought his file to your home. You needed to understand his condition better. All you knew was that he was there for years and he probably couldn't remember his own age. He was taken into the lab at a very young age, and he had no contact with the exterior.

No family, no friends. He was an orphan.

That's why he was the perfect subject for Umbrella. If he died, no one would come crying to collect his body. He had excellent grades at school, and he aspired to be a cop, which was according to his essays; Leon had everything the scientists were looking for, and that's why he was abducted so young. The sad part?

That boy was broken inside and out. His file had pictures of him being tested, naked, and exposed to a lot of painful experiments. They were doing atrocities with him, and now you could understand why he was looking terrified at you.

He was, at one point, drugged and abused. Those scientists under your supervision did a lot of things on him, and the more you read his file, the more disgusted you felt.

As you read through the file, your heart ached for Leon. You had met him only a few days ago, but in that short time, you had seen glimpses of the pain and trauma that haunted him. Now, with this file in your hands, you finally understood the full extent of his suffering.

The decision was clear in your mind.

You had to befriend him and offer him solace and support. In his condition, being manipulated, tortured and abused, hidden from the world, and unable to see the sun, Leon needed someone who wouldn't hurt him, someone who would stand by his side. You knew you had to do something. You needed time.

It was true that you were tired of everything you did for Umbrella Corporation.

Your soul was tainted with the horrors you made in the name of science. At least, you were trying to convince yourself you were doing good, even knowing you were actually drowned in chaos, your mind always remembering you that you were actually hurting others. You hated yourself every day.

You barely could look at your own image in the mirror.

At first, you were happy. After all, you have always been a loyal employee of Umbrella Corporation, working diligently in their research division. It was a prestigious job, one that paid well and provided you with a comfortable life. But it had also demanded your silence and your complicity in the face of questionable experiments and ethically dubious decisions.

But that thought changed after a year.

Suddenly, that beautiful image you had from them twisted into something dark and horrible. You had to face the truth, and it was crushing you.

You felt only shame and guilt. And it was burning you inside, and you couldn't sleep at night. Your conscience was heavy with everything you did for them, and now, you had one small opportunity to make things right. You had a small window, and you needed to act quickly.

After you arrived at the lab, the first thing you did was walk to his room. The security was high, but your ID card let you walk inside without any problem. And he was there. His white clothes had small spots of dried blood, and he seemed to be sleeping. You sighed.

"You came back" you hear him say, his voice surprised, and somehow, he wasn't so scared of you anymore.

"I told you I would come back. I'm sorry if I took long enough" you said, taking small steps towards him, because you don't know if he'll let you get closer.

"Why are you here?" Leon asks, and then you can notice he's fully aware and suspicious towards you. "Why do you care so much about me?"

"Let's just say... I want to make things right" you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

"I don't buy it" Leon looks at you, his eyes full of doubts and fears. Of course, he wouldn't trust you immediately. You needed to earn him first.

"I know, and you have every reason to do so. But I don't mind spending my time trying to convince you I mean no harm" you said, taking another step closer, as your hands lay next to your body to let him know you're telling the truth. "I'm the cool scientist, remember?"

Leon smirked, but it was a sarcastic one.

"All the others told me the same bullshit and look what happened to me!" He almost shouts, his voice sounds angry. "At the end of the day, you are all the same, and I end up bleeding with a new scar"

The tension in the room was palpable, like an electric charge in the air. Leon stood on one side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes locked in a steely glare. On the other side of the room, you were facing him with a calm determination that belied the storm raging within you.

"Leon, I need you to understand something," you finally began, your voice steady and resolute. "I said it before, but I won't hurt you. I know you don't trust me, but I promise you, I'm not here to harm you."

Leon's jaw tightened, and he took a step back, his distrust evident in every fiber of his being. He had been through too much in his life to simply trust someone, especially someone like you, who was a relative stranger.

"You're just like the others" Leon muttered, his voice a low growl. "And you're here only to bring me more pain"

"I know you've been let down in the past, Leon. But I want to help you. I believe in you, and I'm committed to seeing you well" You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to break through Leon's wall of suspicion.

Leon's eyes flickered with a mix of anger and uncertainty. He had heard promises like this before, and they had always led to disappointment. He couldn't afford to be let down again, not when so much was at stake.

"Why should I believe you?" Leon demanded, his voice rising.

You took a step closer, closing the physical gap between the both of you, but realizing that the emotional gap was still vast.

"Because I've been where you are, Leon. I've faced my own demons and fought my own battles. I know what it's like to be in a dark place, and I want to be the light that guides you out of it." You said to him, your voice still showing respect and kindness.

Leon's anger seemed to waver, but he wasn't ready to let his guard down completely.

"Actions speak louder than words," he said, his voice softer now, but still laced with doubt.

"You're absolutely right, Leon. I can make promises all day, but it's my actions that will prove my sincerity. Give me a chance to show you that I mean what I say." You nodded in understanding.

As you extended your hand toward Leon, he hesitated for a moment before reluctantly reaching out to shake it. Your hands met, and in that simple gesture, a fragile bridge of trust began to form. You knew that gaining Leon's trust would be a long and challenging journey, but you were determined to prove to him that you are different, that you were there to help him heal, not hurt him.

Two months had passed by since your first meeting, and that day, you told him you weren't there to hurt him.

And every since that day, Leon still had trouble to trust you, despite all the attempts to befriend him. You were trying, and you knew you were getting in there. Slowly, but effective.

Leon had become all too familiar with the routine of his daily experiments. Each morning, they would escort him down the cold, sterile hallways of the facility, his heart heavy with dread. The scientists, faceless behind their masks and lab coats, were relentless in their pursuit of knowledge, no matter the cost.

Today was different, though. As they strapped him onto the cold metal table, he felt a shiver of apprehension. The restraints were tighter, the needles sharper, and the machines more ominous. Leon's breath quickened as he watched them prepare the apparatus, their voices hushed in clinical conversation.

"Definitely a freak" one of them muttered, and the other laughed. "I mean... look at him. Looks like a walking corpse or whatever he looks like"

Leon was also used to the mean comments they made about him. It was easy for them to mock him. After all, they didn't starve the way Leon did. They weren't underweight as he was, and, of course, they had a place to call home, where they could live a normal life — something that was taken from him.

The first shock sent searing pain coursing through his veins. Leon's body arched in agony, his screams echoing off the sterile walls. He clenched his fists, trying to endure the torment, but his willpower crumbled with each successive jolt.

Hours passed, or maybe it was mere minutes, but to Leon, it felt like an eternity. He lost track of time as they pushed him beyond his limits, subjecting him to doses of needles, shocks, burns, and the ice room. The pain was excruciating, and he wondered how much more his frail body could endure.

Finally, they released him from the restraints, and Leon fell to the cold, hard floor. He was drenched in sweat, his body trembling with the aftermath of the ordeal. His mind was a fog of agony, and he struggled to make sense of his surroundings as they dragged him back to his padded room.

As they locked the heavy door behind him, Leon crumpled to the ground, more hurt than he had ever been before. The pain was unbearable, but there was something else too — an overwhelming sense of despair. He knew that tomorrow would bring another round of experiments, and he was trapped in this never-ending nightmare with no hope of escape.

The harsh, buzzing fluorescent lights above Leon's padded room flickered as the heavy door creaked open. Suddenly, you stepped inside, your footsteps muted by the cushioned floor. You carried a small medical kit and wore a look of sympathy that clashed with your usual clinical demeanor. Something that both of you were used to do, since you were promoted to supervision.

Leon lay on the floor, his body battered and broken from the day's experiments. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his face was contorted with pain. Silently, you knelt beside him, your gloved hands gentle as yoi began to assess his injuries.

The room was cold, the sterile walls offering no comfort. You worked in silence, tending to Leon's wounds with meticulous care that seemed out of place in this cold, heartless facility. You cleaned and dressed his wounds, your touch as tender as it was professional.

As you worked, Leon's eyes filled with tears. He had endured so much, and the pain had become his constant companion. But it was your expected kindness that broke the dam. The tears streamed down his face, and he choked back sobs, unable to contain the flood of emotions that overwhelmed him.

You paused in your ministrations, your eyes meeting Leon's with a mixture of understanding and sorrow. You didn't say a word, but your presence alone offered a glimmer of humanity in this otherwise soulless place.

Leon's sobs became louder, and his body was now jointing. He felt pain, and he was truly scared. He couldn't hold his feelings anymore.

"Please, you have to help me. They... they won't stop. I can't take it anymore." Leon's tears flowed freely now as he looked up at you, his voice choked with pain and desperation.

Gently, you set aside your medical supplies and leaned closer to him, your voice soft and soothing.

"It's going to be okay, Leon," you whispered. "I promise you, I'll find a way to end your suffering. You don't deserve this. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure this ends".

"I... I can't do this anymore..." Leon sobs again, not caring with you seeing his tears. He was desperate. "Please..."

You sighed heavily, your heart aching with the sight of him hurt like that. You needed to help him. You needed to do something.

"I'll see what I can do" you whispered, then you wiped the tears from his eyes. "Now, take some rest"

Leon cried until he fell asleep, curled with his blanket. When you saw him like that, you knew you were done with Umbrella and everything they did. Something was forming inside your mind; a plan? An escape route? Where would you take him? How?

You had a lot of questions and, unfortunately, no answers.

Over the next weeks, you started to prepare your escape. You already had your resignation letter written and a safe location to take Leon. You even took a weekend off just to prepare the place to take him. You had medical supplies, clothes, food, and everything you both would need.

It was risky, but you needed to try.

You had secretly collected a stash of supplies over the months, carefully hidden away in the recesses of your country house. You knew the facility's routines and security measures like the back of your hand. You had observed the guards' shifts and the vulnerabilities in their surveillance. You were more than prepared.

This would be the night.

When you went inside his room, he wasn't there. You checked his schedule and saw he was — again — in the experiment room. You had finally reached your breaking point. You couldn't bear to see Leon's suffering continue any longer.

Leon's condition had deteriorated to the point where he could barely move, let alone stand. You knew you had to act swiftly and decisively. You had already obtained a wheelchair, hidden away in a storage closet for weeks, just waiting for the right moment. You walk inside the building, trying to find the right room. Your mind and heart racing with thousand of thoughts.

Until you hear him.

Strapped to a cold metal table, he braced himself for the pain he knew was coming. The first shock hit him like a lightning bolt, searing through his body and causing his muscles to convulse. Leon clenched his teeth, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to endure. The room echoed with his screams, a symphony of suffering that went unheard beyond these walls.

"Stop this experiment now!" You commanded, your voice cutting through the chaos as you burst into the room.

"But... why?" One of the scientists asks, confused.

"I've made a new schedule. He's not going to be tested today" you replied harshly.

The scientists froze, their instruments suspended mid-air. You hurried to Leon's side, releasing him from his restraints with urgency. You spared no time in scooping him up gently, cradling his trembling body in your arms.

"But what are we supposed to do now?" The same scientist asked again, still confused.

"There's another test subject. You can use them" you said, helping Leon stand up.

Saying that, you carried him out of the experiment room, Leon's vision blurred, and he could barely comprehend what was happening. He clung to the sensation of being held, of being rescued from the torment he was passing through.

You took him back to his padded room, laying him down on the bed. You knelt beside him, your expression a mix of sympathy and anger.

"Rest now, Leon," you said softly, brushing his hair away from his tear-stained face. "I won't let them hurt you like this anymore. This will end today, I promise"

Leon tried to mutter something, but he was so tired that his words were beyond comprehension. You went back to your office, just waiting for the perfect time.

You were nervous, and anyone could tell that you were more aggressive than usual, despite the fact that you were always kind to everyone. This plan needed to work, or both of you would definitely die. Your eyes were glued to the watch in your wall, and the time seemed to freeze.

Your heart ached, and you felt anxious.

When the clock finally turned midnight, you knew what you needed to do. Silently, with a heavy heart, you approached Leon's padded room, your pulse quickening with each step. You had prepared a syringe with a sedative, a necessary measure to keep him asleep and prevent him from experiencing any more pain.

Entering the room, you saw Leon lying on the padded bed, his eyes hollow and empty. His frail body was a mere shell of what it had once been, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sorrow for him. You administered the sedative with a gentle touch, whispering soothing words to him as he slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Carefully, you lifted Leon's limp form and gently placed him in the wheelchair. You secured him with the safety straps, ensuring he wouldn't fall during their escape. Then you wheeled him out of the room, moving with purpose through the corridors, your heart heavy with the weight of your escape plan.

As you both approached your car parked discreetly in the shadows, you couldn't help but glance back at the facility you both were leaving behind — a place of horrors, pain, and despair. You had made a difficult choice, one that would change both of your lives forever, but you were determined to keep Leon safe, even if it meant going to great lengths to do so.

With Leon sedated and safely secured in the wheelchair, you carefully loaded him into your car, your eyes never leaving his peaceful, albeit frail form.

"I've got you" you whispered, covering his weak body with a blanket and then closing the door.

The night was a tapestry of stars above as you drove, your eyes fixed on the darkened road ahead. Hours stretched on, the miles slipping away beneath the tires of your car. In the back seat, Leon lay motionless, a fragile figure in the interior, protected by the cozy blanket and the warm air.

Every so often, you stole a glance at the rearview mirror, your worry etched on your face. You constantly checked on him to make sure he was still asleep and unharmed. His breathing was steady, a reassuring rhythm amidst the uncertainty of your journey.

The countryside passed by in a blur of shadowy trees and moonlit fields. You kept driving, the tension in your shoulders slowly easing as the miles between you two and the lab grew. You couldn't help but think about the risk you had taken, the consequences if you were caught, but the determined look in Leon's eyes when he had awakened for a brief moment had given you the strength to carry on.

Finally, you two arrived at your country house, a remote sanctuary nestled far from prying eyes. You parked the car in the driveway and carefully opened the back door. Leon remained peacefully asleep, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings.

Gently, she took him from the car to the wheelchair, your arms trembling with the weight of his frail form. You took him into the cozy house, the scent of pine and wood welcoming them. You placed him in a comfortable bed, covering him with a warm blanket.

You watched over him for a while, relief washing over you as you saw that he was still sleeping peacefully. You knew this new journey was far from over, that you both had many challenges ahead, but in this moment, under the soft moonlight that filtered through the curtains, Leon was safe.

As exhaustion finally caught up with you, you settled into a chair in the room, your eyes never leaving Leon's slumbering figure. You were determined to protect him, to give him a chance at a life free from the horrors of the lab.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains of the country house, casting a gentle glow on the room. Leon began to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. Confusion washed over him as he realized he was no longer in the familiar confines of the lab.

Panic welled up within him, and he tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy and weak. As he struggled, tears welled up in his eyes, and he cried out in despair.

You had been dozing in a nearby chair, tired that you fell asleep quickly, then you awoke with a start. You rushed to Leon's side, your voice filled with soothing reassurance.

"Leon, it's alright. You're safe now. You're not in the lab anymore." You tell him, your voice calm and kind.

"I... I can't believe it," he stammered, his voice trembling. "Is this real?" Leon's breaths came in ragged sobs as he looked at you, his eyes searching for the truth in your words.

You nodded, your eyes filled with empathy.

"Yes, it's real," you whispered. "You're free now, Leon. No more experiments, no more pain."

Tears streamed down Leon's cheeks as he absorbed the reality of his situation. He had spent so long in that nightmarish place that the idea of escape had seemed impossible. But here, in this tranquil room, with you by his side, hope blossomed within him. You reached out and gently brushed the tears from his face.

"It's okay to cry, Leon," you said softly. "You've been through so much. But now, we're going to build a new life together, away from the lab."

As Leon's sobs gradually subsided, he clung to your words, the promise of a brighter future. In your compassionate presence, he began to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he could leave the horrors of the lab behind and find a life filled with warmth and kindness.

Leon finally felt the sun touching his skin. Finally, he was allowed to see the sunrise and to see the world again.

He was free.

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