#cw minor violence

[chocomd]

Lifting the Mask

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, Missing Scene, Aang-centric

Word count: 1,860

Story summary: When Aang looks under the mask, he unveils more than just the Blue Spirit. (Zukaang)

Read on AO3

————–

It was when the mask came loose that Aang could no longer resist.

The mystery of his savior’s identity compelled his hands to reach for the wood-carved face. That question had burned in Aang’s mind ever since the man in black had wordlessly sliced the shackles from his wrists. And the opportunity to discover the truth would not present itself again.

But Aang was moved by more than curiosity, or even the hunger to know the answer.

The mask was a painted shell beneath his fingers. Alien. Cold. And with its protruding white fangs and unforgiving eyeholes, dangerous.

Who was this person who had searched for Aang, while he was buried behind walls cold and dangerous, chained with no hope of rescue? Who had donned the façade of protection to share in his fate?

The masked man knew where Aang was being held, when no friend of Aang’s was aware that he’d been captured to begin with. And the man must have known that by breaking into the stronghold with only a mask and a blade, he was tying his life to Aang’s. They would rise, or they would fall—together.

By binding himself to Aang, the man had made himself a part of him.

And then he had turned on Aang. Blades at his throat, cutting into skin.

Not a friend, after all.

Continue reading on AO3

[sudriantraveler]

A ghostly vessel brings to light a part of Captain Zero’s past he’d rather have left forgotten, and Zorran is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his captain.

Alright, about half a month late, but this fic is finally finished. I really meant for this to be done for traintober but it just grew way bigger than I had originally planned. This is pretty easily my longest fic at the current time of writing. Anyways, I hope you all like it.

[mx-julien]

Zane is curious to a fault and that's my favorite flaw. refined version of this rough fic post from three years ago. now posted on ao3

Zane gets taken prisoner by the Mechanic. Nya and Cole are on the way, but will they get there in time? And why Zane?

CW: threats of robot violence (not carried out), canon-typical violence (people get beat up and walk away with a bruise or two)

///

Gray is called neutral for a reason. It doesn't offend any of the other colors. Not with red plastic wire jackets or the gold wiring inside, cradled by unpolished titanium plates. The only real light Zane has is falling onto the concrete floor and stretches up to his chest. Someone removed a Monopoly box-sized rectangle from the door and stuck wrought iron in. It's a far cry from the smooth round bars installed in Kryptarium. They should rethink calling him "Most Valuable Prisoner" if these are the conditions they put important people in.

Zane would halfheartedly kick at a rock, but all of his motors are shot except for the ones on his neck, abdomen, and right are. Also, there are no rocks nearby, so he lies there, half propped against a wall. His left arm is detached and strewn to the side of the cell in the corner.

The slivers of light are disturbed by a silhouette wearing a bowl hat. In a few moments, the door is open and The Mechanic stands inscribed in a rectangle of light that crawls towards the inside of Zane's cell, "Little nindroid," he leans in, keys jangling on his hip, "Don't count yourself lucky 'cause I'm not leavin' any time soon."

After a moment to process the double negative, Zane tries to right his head and gets about 70% there. His vision is still tilted slightly to the left. "You're the unlucky one," an exposed motor audibly whirs when he speaks. One good arm helps push his back further up the wall in an effort to look like he's sitting rather than considerably incapacitated. "And an idiot on top of that," he looks pointedly around the room, "Or did you not realize that you led us straight to your base?" Zane looks the mechanic in the one good eye he has.

He just laughs, "Like you'll ever make it back to tell 'em!" The clanging of loose gears punctuates every heave of his leather-clad chest.

Someone from behind yells, "Yeah!" and pumps a fist into the air while another curls one hand into a fist and hits it against their palm as an ode of what's to come. Oh joy.

Squinting, Zane can make out three goons of various sizes past the doorway. All of them are wearing tattered leather jackets and ripped acid wash jeans. Idly, he wonders if their 'Henchmen from an 80s movie' outfits come out of their paycheck or the boss'.

The Mechanic turns and screeches for them to be quiet.

Then he searches a large, and horribly inconvenient, key ring. After what feels like ages, he clips a particular key to his belt.

He sets his eyes on Zane and begins to creep forward into the cell, "You're going to give me that capacitor real nice like," he motions his hands in a 'come come' manner that Zane discovers he finds incredibly demeaning, "Or I'm gonna take you apart  'til I find it like the Good 'Ol Mechanic I am." He crouches, still out of arm's reach but too close for any semblance of comfort, "Like I've wanted to for so long. You get me?" Grinning, he shows off teeth adorned with gold and silver. Either he lacks dental hygiene or fancies the look of grillz.

The metal piece replacing his eye has a few lights in it that stare at Zane like they're expecting him to blink first. "We destroyed it-" narrowing his eyes before scoffing, "Do you really think we'd keep around a novel compact device capable of holding that much electricity?"

"No," The Mechanic stands up to full height and walks backwards to lean back on the cell wall, "I think you," he points at Zane, "Are curious enough to want it around to tinker with - to figure out all its little secrets and whatnot." A pause. "But smart enough to know that your other little friends wouldn't agree." He takes out a cigarette and flicks his lighter, illuminating the dank room. It is summarily snuffed out after serving its purpose; the butt of the cigarette glows a dark red. "You either have it or you know where it is." He draws in a breath and lets the smoke trickle out through his mustache.

Zane feels a tangible sense of checkmate as he sees the ash fall between oily human fingers. But it's not over yet. "Fine," he raises his head the last several degrees to straighten it fully, "But if I don't tell you where it is, how is taking me apart going to help? You'll never find it if I'm not intact."

"Tell it to me now," he shuts the door, letting it clang so loud it makes the tallest henchman flinch, "And you won't have to see me rilflin' 'round that chest of yours to see where the memory stick's at." He pulls a pair of foot-long pliers out of his toolbelt, wearing a smile that borders on the side of deranged.

This is Zane's own fault and he's fully aware that he deserves what's coming to him. But he can't help feeling relief when a door down the hallway is kicked in and "Hands off the nindroid!" echoes through the room.

The goons spring to their feet just in time for Nya to incapacitate the shortest one and trip the gangliest member against a wall. It's enough to keep her occupied that a woman with blond, curly hair puts her arms around Nya's neck in a choke hold. Out of reflex, Zane tries to move his left arm to grab a shuriken, only to be greeted by sparks that jump to the ground and fizzle out.

Nya widens her stance and attempts to flip her assailant onto the person slumped against the nearby wall. When the taller goon flips open a switchblade, she reconsiders just long enough for the Mechanic to make it over and brandish his brass knuckles. Stopped in her tracks, Nya lifts the feet of her attacker from behind just long enough to spin around and jerk backwards to smash the Mechanic into a wall.

She's not pay attention to the person with the knife. They've stood up and are mid-lunge when Cole barrels through the hallway, knocking the wind out of them and leaving them gasping for air on the floor. Nya still has an arm around her neck, but the woman attacking her is dazed. Cole grabs one of her arms, letting Nya twist out of the way. She snatches a pair of handcuffs from the henchman's belt, securing the woman's hands behind her back and around a table leg. Cole was checking the pulses of the other knocked out henchmen, so he didn't notice who had gone missing.

"Damn hard to find good help these days," not to be forgotten, the Mechanic quickly locks he cell door behind him and throws the keys across the room, coming to rest near what used to be the Zane's left elbow, "Oh well," his other hand grabs wire cutters out of an inner coat pocket, "Guess we'll have an audience, eh, nindroid?"

"Shit!"

He takes only two steps closer before the door groans and bends behind him. The Mechanic spins around, shocked. Nya chooses that moment to walk through the new opening in the concrete, drag him a few feet closer to her by grabbing his shirt, then punch his lights out.

Cole watches it happen, a few of his locs obscuring an eye, while he's still holding the door in his hands. Almost regarding it as a seasoned debate student would his notes. He promptly throws it aside after his eyes land on Zane's, rather dishevelled look.

"Hey buddy," he bends down at Zane's right side, putting a hand on his back so it's easier to sit, "Not looking too hot," he scans the room, finally able to process the extent of the damage, "What the hell did they do to you?"

"They tore that arm off," he uses his head to gesture to it, as if there are some other remains of a titanium android's arm lying around in close proximity, "And then it joined me as I was pushed off a building." Zane puts a hand on Cole's shoulder, "But I gathered what I could of it and I'm okay. All the important things are intact."

Finished with tying up the Mechanic, Nya walks in and surveys the damage she, Jay, and Pixal will have to repair, "What did they want from you, anyways?" She takes off her gi to use as a makeshift bag to hold the large arm plates she's picking up, "They seemed to specifically go after you once they regrouped."

Zane's lifted into the air, his legs uneven; the right side showing too many wires to be fully intact inside and the other being so crumpled it became an inch shorter. Cole's supporting all of his weight, one arm gripping the area where an arm used to be and his right holding on to the metallic one that's slung around his shoulders.

"The capacitor from last week."

"What about it?" Cole shuffles sideways through the opening so Zane's legs don't catch, "But you destroyed it a few days ago? Why'd they think- don't tell me you-"

Pointedly, Zane looks the hallway, admiring the bent door and its handle laying on the floor. Nya stands up, gi in hand, and leaves the cell, putting her free hand on her hip and sighing, "Zane. This is why we get rid of those things in the first place."

He waits a beat, feeling the eyes of his disappointed friends. Much Zane's body may be broken but his pride is in perfect working condition. They just didn't understand, clearly. "It stores energy so much more efficiently than anything we have developed right now. We don't even know if it's the design or the materials or-"

"Or what?" Cole readjusts his grip on him, making the loose pieces in his legs rattle and scrape together, "It could be important, sure, but is it worth it to get captured again? Damn it, Zane, we can't afford to worry about someone going missing or another burnt down monastery!"

"I-" the nindroid lets his head hang, giving him a clear view of the wreckage that is his lower half. His voice gets quieter, "There was some... collateral damage I hadn't fully taken into account."

After a few moments of silence, Nya gets out her phone to call the commissioner. His limp body is dragged out anther door and up several flights of spiral stone stairs onto the roof. Zane's set down against an air conditioning unit, propped up like a favorite tea time doll.

Cole sits down to his right, holding his one good hand. He takes the other to push hair out of his eyes. Taking a deep breath in, he methodically exhales after almost exactly ten seconds.

A full minute later, Cole tries to speak, "Just-" he turns his head to look away from Zane, to where the Bounty will presumably dock soon. "We can always get you one from Borg: the guy has everything," he squeezes his hand, "Except- except you. We only have one of you, and I'd like to keep this Zane in one piece."

There was no use pointing out that Borg does not have what he's looking for. "I'll..." letting his voice box draw out the word, he leans forward a little, catching Cole's eye, "restrain myself -  in the future, that is - when it comes to things like this."

Cole just nods, accepting the apology as one might tuck a missing letter into their pocket.

Zane's not forgiven yet, just understood.

Nya comes up after not much longer and sits where his left arm would usually be when it's not shattered into pieces.

Soon, the Bounty will descend out of the clouds, but right now it's tranquil. Zane closes his eyes, shutting off visual sensors and allowing his head to rest on the AC unit behind them. If he sits here long enough, he just might forget how damaged his legs are.

And how the capacitor sitting right next to his heart has never felt heavier.

~*~

set in a "vaguely after s8" timeline and Some General Robot Gore, but none of the End Of The Season Plot things. wanted to treat myself a little bit because I love underexplored character flaws and broken robots.

lmk if you want another chapter on the team's POV or the bit leading up to Zane's capture; or just throw me a prompt in my asks

[kaijubyte]

wooooould you believe me if I said this was not the direction this piece was heading when I had started sketching :>

No nudity but i feel it warrants a censor! Enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

p.s. merry christmas and happy holidays guys! 🎄

[zhuzhee]

baby girl its pipe time!!

[sleepykas]

Some memories don't fade with time.

1/3

First (you're here!) | Previous | Next (tba)

[an-albino-pinetree]

There is slight dark themes in this comic! There is no Nsfw, and nothing is shown, there’s nothing graphic done or said, but the “comic” itself is about the lead up to a non consensual act. You could look at this as both dub con or non con, either way, if those themes upset you, I wouldn’t read this! Thank you! - Implied touching, Carnival is way too chipper given the circumstances, examination stuff, reader is referred to as “patient”, light violence mention, POV, scopophobia:

[romanxeisdeadbutimnot]

I'm thinking, let Zoro and Sanji be more feral. I'm writing some stuff for them, and I love the thought of Zoro having blood-lust. Of Sanji not only putting people in their place, but getting off on doing so.

Violence cw:

It's like a horror movie sometimes with them. Sanji finds someone harassing one of his crew members or a woman? He cuts their hands off. No they can't touch anyone ever again :)

Zoro is fighting to protect his crew, to hone his skill, and the villain has the nerve to devalue and laugh at the crew that Zoro holds so dearly. Alright, you've pissed Zoro off. He won't stop at defeating you, he'll chop you into pieces and serve it to your goddamn dogs. Now there's no waste :)

Of course Zoro and Sanji are pining for eachother. They fight and bicker, but they've always got eachothers back. Sanji sees Zoro covered in blood and thinks, 'God I can't not fuck him.' Zoro sees the pure hatred in Sanji's face as he overhears some asshole brag about assaulting a young woman, the knowing look that Sanji will make sure that man never walks again. And Zoro thinks, 'God I want him so bad.'

Sorry I love deranged and fucked up aus - of course I love wholesomeness but sometimes blood shed is nice <3

[xx-blueboy-xx]

I wish Sam could have punched John in the face. Beat him bloody, just truly exploded in early seasons. Shown him exactly what he made him to be in the most tragic way possible.

I would have killed for a scene that went like, Sam and John arguing, John is getting more and more loud, until he is screaming - spit flying, you know: the whole nine yards. Insantly, Sam matches this.

Dean would try and step between them, like he always does. But -Sam pushes him away, with a ferocity he has only seen from his mostly passive brother on hunts.

"Stay out of this Dean!"

Dean would try and say something but a steely look from John shuts him up. He steps back realizing that it's over. This is it. His family is done for.

Can you imagine the shock on John's face, when Sam swings at him. Landing a perfect blow to his nose, breaking it without even trying. Using all of those skills he taught him? Forced him to perfect.

Can you imagine the shock from Dean. Who steps forward a bit, he goes to step between them, terrified of what John will do. He knows what he did when they were defensless, never even dared to talk back. The bruises and the blood.

But then Sam is grabbing John by the collar and he lands another punch. And another. And another, he has him on the ground his knuckles bleeding as he tears them apart, each hit landing harder than the last. Between the blows he is spitting out like poison "I hate you!"

And Dean pulls him off. Dean begs him to stop. He doesnt hit Dean, simply trembles in his arms as he is held back - pushed away.

John just stares.

And stares. He doesn't say a word. Before he wipes the blood from his mouth, and spits some onto the ground eye already swelling up. Lip split.

He stands.

And still says nothing, because Dean is already doing it. Already taking the holy word from his father's mouth. Already starting to lecture Sam, maybe shove his brother a bit.

John doesn't have to say anything.

And in the moment, Sam wishes he killed him.

[van1llam1lkk]

House pet

[ sfw | TW ; Blood, physical violence, Manipulation/Coercion, Dubcon, As well as some General Yandere content but it's very tame, readers nose is broken at some point, power dynamics, The term Pet is used multiple times]

This was supposed to be shorter,, But I accidentally got Aizu brainrot of her being a tiny, little, annoying shit...

Female yandere x GN reader

Your body slams into the cushioned mat, pain radiating through your being as you slowly get back on your feet, only finding yourself up because your opponent has allowed you to.

Aizu shifted her weight to one side, closely watching you as you try to hide your exhaustion with shallow breaths. She always had this smug smirk permanently etched onto her face.

What you wouldn't give for just one chance to punch that face of hers.

She leaned in a bit closer, presumably noticing how sweaty and out of breathe you were while she had barely broken a sweat. "You're not cut out for this y'know? To be honest, I feel like someone like you would be better for something else..." She began, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into her.

"Like what?" You asked through gritted teeth, attempting to buy yourself some more time so you can fully recover.

"Hm, I don't know." She replied with a short pause before continuing. "Something cute definitely... Maybe being a house pet?"

Hearing those words only stirred up a wave of energy within you, trying to fight your way out of her grip with little success- a low growl rumbling from your chest. “Shut up!-” 

Her grip tightened around your mid drift as she let out a low chuckle. "I bet you'd appreciate it too; nice home, comfortable bed to sleep in— all in exchange for some cleaning and some food." She cooed, her words grazing against your neck due to how close she was.

"Ah, but how could I ever forget the other thing?" She muses, ignoring how you were still trying to wriggle out of her grip.

You groan, shifting your eyes up to look at her face. Annoyance is evident in your own face as you take in her smug grin and those mesmerizing crimson colored eyes.

She doesn't answer immediately, the smile on her lips only widening a little as her teeth peek through her lips.

"You really don't know?" Aizu lowers her voice to a sultry tone - causing your skin to prickle at the hidden implication. "The only thing that someone like you would be good at." She leans into whisper into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "The thing that makes you an ideal pet."

Aizu's hand moves lower onto the hem of your pants and you can feel yourself blush from the embarrassment and discomfort. "I don't want to be—" You start, trying to push her away but it' does little to help.

"Oh, would you just shut up for once?" she whispers, her lips ghosting over your neck. "You wouldn't have to worry about silly events like the future or important errands. All you would need to think about is how you're gonna maintain your looks and what you're gonna make for dish whoever was lucky enough to marry you." She says confidently, with a touch of arrogance hidden behind it.

"Just think about it," she continues as if sensing your unease. "I'm sure someone like you would love it if you ever gave it a try."

Your brows furrow slightly, struggling to ignore the nervousness stirring in the back of your mind. "How the hell am I supposed to 'try' marriage out?" You ask with a waver in your voice due to the nerves.

She slightly frowns at your attitude, a soft groan escaping from her lips.

"Come on, don't be so uptight. I'm just saying, you have potential to be a great pet," Aizu says, her tone turning soothing as she cups your cheek. "Think about it, no more worries about fighting or competing. Just a life of comfort and pleasure." She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Your mind reels with conflicting emotions, even though you know you'd never let yourself fall down such a path the allure of a life free from struggle and hardship was still tempting, but the idea of being someone's pet left a sour taste in your mouth.

Aizu pulls back, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I'll make a deal with you," she says, her hand still lingering on your cheek. "If you beat me in a fight, I'll leave this whole 'pet' idea alone. But if I win, you have to at least consider it."

With gritted teeth you slap away her hand from your face. Realistically you probably have little possibility winning this fight. But the chance to put her in her place— No matter how small, had you nodding your head in agreement. "Fine." You firmly say.

"Okay! Hand-to-hand combat, whoever hits the floor first wins." She explains, clasping her hands together.

And for someone her size you'd expect her to at least be a little weak, but no, she can practically throw your ass.

"Ready?" She asks, her words bringing you out of your thoughts. With a hesitant nod you ready yourself, getting into position.

What made training with Aizu so difficult was how fast and silent she moved. And despite her size, she had incredible strength; you wouldn't be surprised if she could throw you across the room if she really tried.

Aizu makes the first move, launching herself at you in a flurry of punches and kicks. You dodge most of them, but one catches you in the side, knocking you off balance.

You stumble backwards, but quickly regain your footing. Aizu continues to come at you, her movements quick and precise. You try to keep up, but soon you find yourself on the ground, pinned beneath her.

She smirks down at you, her grip tight on your wrists. "Looks like you lost," she says, leaning in close. "Now, about that pet idea..."

But before she can say anything else, you use all your strength to flip her over and pin her down.

She yelps at sudden change in position her face a little confused for a moment before a smile cracks onto her faces, soft giggles escaping her in fits

"Ah— You're a stubborn one!" She huffs out you could feel her legs wrap around your waist. "But we both know this doesn't change much." She murmurs, narrowing her eyes a little.

The movement happened to quickly for you to process what happened immediately, the entire experience coming in waves that felt longer than they actually were.

You hear the sudden crack of your nose first, followed by the the sweet coppery smell of your own blood filling up your senses. Your hand shoots up to cradle your burning nose, droplets of blood dripping into the palm of your hand.

You didn't even notice that you'd reflexively sat up, releasing her from beneath as you cradled your sore nose.

"Did— Did you just fucking headbutt me?" You stammer out, glancing at the blood that was coating your fingers and leaking from your nose.

Aizu shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin tugging at her lips. "Hey, you said hand-to-hand combat, not 'no headbutts'." She giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "But I'll admit, I didn't think it would work that well."

You glare at her, holding your throbbing nose. "You're insane, you know that?" you mutter, the pain making your eyes water.

"Maybe," Aizu says with a shrug. "But you have to admit, I did have you on the floor first so... Are you considering the pet idea now?"

You shake your head, trying to clear it. "No, I'm not," you say firmly, more focused on trying to keep the bleeding to a minimum.

Aizu chuckles, sitting up and patting your shoulder. "Well, it's not like it really matters what you say." she says, grinning to herself the implications making you feel a little uneasy.

"What do you mean by that?" You respond, glancing up at her from the hood of your eyelashes.

She doesn't really say anything, just her smiling slightly widening. "C'mon, you don't really think this entire thing wasn't rigged from the start right?" She teases, tilting her head to the side. You open your mouth to object but she interrupts you before you could get a word out.

"And before you start getting all pissy at me, when I said 'considered' it was more like 'You WILL be my house pet if I win this' and we both knew I'd win so." She trails off shrugging

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She casually says, downplaying the fact that she just flat out lied to your face You just stare at her in disbelief, as she gets up and dusts off her clothes. The pain in your nose is forgotten as you try to process what she just said.

What the fuck?

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 15: Visitors

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

cw: minor descriptions of violence/physicall assault

Present Day, March 1987

“When are you going to move in,” Sarah asks over the phone.

“Next week, I think. I should get the keys in a few days and then we’ll take some time to get some basic furniture. Then we should be all good.”

Steve was excited for the move. Excited to get out of this house to something he owns. Something he can make his own. A place where he can walk through the door and see himself on the walls. In the furniture. Where it feels like home.

Not just a large house where most of the lights are never on. Suffocating anyone who lives in it.

It’ll be an adjustment. But he’s willing to do it. Ready to do it. He’s been stuck in the same loop for so long, he ready to break it.

“Any word from your parents?”

Steve still feels bad about that. If things went the way he wanted them to, Julie would never have to endure his parents. Over the phone or in person. Knowing her, she’d probably want to sit behind him in court. She’d see them there. But wouldn’t be dealing with him. That’s his job, not hers. Not anyone’s.

He’s been dealing with his parents for his entire life. He’s used to it. Knows how to shut up and say the right things just so the issue is dropped. Most of the time. Sometimes he fights back. Stands up for himself. Just to get knocked back down to the lowest peg possible. But he tries.

Now, it’s a totally different ballgame. They can’t knock him down again, not really. He’s stronger than he was back then. Older. More mature. Has a sense of his own self worth and how it doesn’t revolve around their opinions. They never cared enough to stay, why should he care about their words.

“Uh yeah. They got the papers, last I heard from the courthouse is that they got the response letter. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well, that was to be expected. Anything else?”

Steve hesitates. “Yeah, um. I sort of got kicked out.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my dad said he wanted me gone. That if I thought I was going to get anything from them anymore I was wrong and can’t keep living here rent free. But they haven’t, like, sent a cop or anything to make sure I’m gone. So, it’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“That’s only because you have an in with the Chief, Steve,” Sarah says sternly. He can picture the frustration on her face. “When did they tell you this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Sarah swears under her breath. “You’re cutting it close here, Steve.”

“I know,” he says before she can continue. “I know I am. But we’re so close to getting out. Most of our stuff is out of the house except for essentials, and I have people on standby incase they come home. I’m not going into this blind. I know how they are.”

“The minute they show up, the minute that this backup plan gets put into place, you call me immediately.”

Steve knows that Sarah’s just planning for the worst possible outcome. That it’s better to plan for things that might never happen than to scramble for a solution. He doesn’t want to think of the worst. Deep down, there’s a strong feeling that it’s actually going to happen.

Because he does know them. He knows how they will want to fight. They don’t want to do it at all. Threats have gotten them out of trouble before, it shouldn’t be any different now. Only Steve wasn’t giving up. Giving in. He separated himself from them enough that their words don’t mean shit anymore.

At least that’s how he’ll act. In court, he’ll tell the judge the truth, not caring what their going to say as a rebuttal. The way they’ll tear him down as much as they can. It won’t affect him then, but Steve has no way of knowing how it will affect him behind closed doors.

Despite everything, someone deep inside him craves for their approval. Their attention. That person has been getting satisfaction knowing that he’s getting it somehow. The same person that threw large parties just to get the cops called. Just to see if they would show up again. Give him a phone call. Steve wants to ignore that part of him, but it’s there.

That same part of him will probably cry when this is all over. Knowing that his parents are done with him forever. That they think the worst of him. Their opinion shouldn’t matter. It still does sometimes.

“I promise I will,” Steve assures.

“Good.” Sarah hangs up without another word.

Steve’s relationship with his parents has always been complicated. He knew that. Everyone knew that. There was a small hope that if he just acted right, did all the right things, the relationship would become less complicated. Less strained. He’d be their son the way other sons were. Not just a trophy to sit on a shelf, but something more. It never became that, no matter how hard he tried.

So he stopped trying, and look where he is now.

. . .

Julie was putting her plate in the sink when a car pulled into the driveway. Steve’s head turned to the door, wondering who it is. He never does that. People come and go here all the time, normally Eddie since he has a car. Robin if she gets him to pick her up on the way.

But Steve never turns his head when it’s them. Like he has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to random people showing up at his door. Always knowing who it is before he sees them. This is different.

Still, Julie doesn’t pay much thought on it. It’s probably just one of them. Or maybe one of the kids had their parents drive them over. It’s nothing.

Until they hear the garage door start to open. No one ever uses the garage.

Steve’s body tightens. Standing straighter that he normally does.  He abandons his dish in the sink, walking toward the door leading to the garage. On attention. Waiting for something to pounce.

She’s never seen him like this before.

When he returns to the kitchen, there’s a frightened look in his eye. One that immediately makers her heart start to pound faster. It can’t be that bad. What can scare him into looking like this? Spine tied up with a string. Stance ready to start running. Afraid. He’s so afraid.

His mouth opens to say something as a car door slams. A rage filled voice traveling across the house. Enough that she can place who’s it is, even after only hearing it once. Steve’s fear matches in her eyes.

“Steve, who’s here?” Her voice waivers.

Without saying a word, Steve gently grabs her arm and brings her to the sliding door. “You can’t be here right now. They can’t know you’re here.”

“Steve,” she asks again.

He slides the door open, the evening air making her shiver. “The Byers house isn’t that far through the woods. You remember going there for Christmas Eve, right? Go straight about thirty feet, then make a right and keep walking.”

“Steve.”

The door starts to open, and the voices fill the other room. Steve’s eyes dart towards the sound before landing back on her. Only making her more scared.

“I’ll be there within an hour with the rest of our stuff. But it will be worse if they see you’re here. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“Steve,” she pleads for him to slow down.

“You got it. Go to the loose fence behind the pool house and then walk straight a little bit. Then make a right and keep going. You’ll see their house after a while. Take this.” He reaches for the walkie on the kitchen table. Messing with the dial. “When you get to the woods, call for a code red. It won’t go to everyone, just to them. I’ll be there when I can.”

Before Julie can say anything else, Steve pushes her out the door and shuts it behind her. Sliding the lock into place.

Heavy breaths fill her lungs, burning slightly with the chilled air. She looks at Steve though the glass. Face frantically asking for an explanation. Trying to convince her the one she has is wrong. They can’t be here right now.

“Go, please,” Steve mouths through the glass. Terrified.

Julie turns. Walking to the pool house. Finding the loose panels of the fence and pulls them to the side. The same way she would do when she would sneak into this backyard. When she lived in that other house and would do anything not to be there.

Steve’s instructions replay in her mind. Walk straight for a bit, about thirty feet. Maybe more. The turn right and keep walking until you see the house. Call for a code red. Julie looks at the walkie in her hand before she presses the button. Seeing how her hand in shaking.

“Copy,” a man’s voice comes through the speaker. Julie unable to place it right now. “I’ll wait outside for you. If you don’t see the porch light, look for the flashlight. Call again if you get lost.”

Julie turns to the house again. The light click on in Steve’s room. He shouldn’t be much longer. There’s not much else to grab. He should be right after her.

She thinks about waiting. But she already called. They’ll get worried if she doesn’t show up.

Her mind can’t stop racing as she walks. Sun setting slowly as it becomes harder to see the ground. Squinting to make sure she doesn’t trip on a root or branch.

Did Steve’s parents really show up? Just unannounced. That part wasn’t as surprising when she thought about it. They seemed like the people to do that. Steve mentioned that they might come home. She didn’t believe it then. She barely believed it now.

He was right. They showed up at the worst possible time. Give it another week and they would have been out of there anyway. But no, they just had to show up today.

The rage of Steve’s father’s voice rings in her head. The threats on the phone call finding their way back to her mind. What would they do when they saw he was still there? He wanted the two of them gone, that didn’t happen. Not yet. It was happening, but something told Julie that wouldn’t matter. In their heads, Steve disobeyed them. Again.

. . .

Steve watches Julie round the pool house before he turns away. Knowing that she’s going to a safe place, that no matter what the Byers’ will take care of her. His safety, he’s not so sure about. Anger fills his dad fast, and it’s already bubbling over with the sight of the Beemer still sitting in the driveway. Or the fact that there’s lights on in the house.

He’s about to see his parents for the first time in two years. And he’s terrified.

Everything slows down like one of the horror movie scenes. Where the footsteps thump down the hall while the protagonist just stands and waits like an idiot. Waiting for it to strike. They don’t seem like such idiots anymore. Steve knows how feet can feel glued to the floor, but it has a whole new meaning now.

His back is straight, chest puffed out in a way that makes him look bigger than he is. Anything to make him more menacing than his father’s glare. Or fist. Or whatever is coming his way as his father finds his way to the kitchen.

For the first time in two years, Steve looks at his father’s face. Disgusted how much it looks like his. A constant reminder of where he comes from, no matter how hard he tries. Rage filled eyes meet Steve’s, waiting for him to make the first move. All he does is cross his arms, clench his jaw. Trap his father in a glare. He’s not speaking until he has to.

“Steven,” his mother breaks the silence. “We were not expecting you.”

She always tried to keep the peace between them. To try and keep in his father’s rage. It rarely worked. But she tried. It was the one thing Steve commended her for. Deep down, he felt bad for her. Trapped in an unhappy marriage having to follow after Richard just to make sure he didn’t cheat. But that still meant leaving him, and she didn’t call enough for him to forgive for that.

“No, we were not,” Richard finally speaks, voice tense. “What are you still doing here?” Considering you are no longer welcome in this house, that is.

His father can’t even speak his name. Steve debates walking past right up to his room. Filling the last tote bag before doing the same with the rest of Julie’s stuff. Walking out without an explanation. His father raises his eyebrow with a tilt to his head. Awaiting an explanation.

Instead, Steve decides to gloat. “I’m actually just waiting for the keys to my house. Didn’t want the neighbors to think you left your son to sleep in his car. That wouldn’t be so nice to the reputation, wouldn’t it, dad.” He continues to glare at his father, not backing down.

His father lets out a condescending laugh. “If you were so concerned about reputation, then we wouldn’t have to go to court. Would we, Steven? Instead, you think that you deserve some kind of justice. After all we’ve done for you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “What did you do for me exactly?”

“Put a roof over your head, make sure there was money to put food on the table. Give you a car, clothes, expensive gifts. See you through high school, pay for your sports equipment. Everything you have is because we gave it to you.” Richard’s voice raises, almost yelling. Almost.

Steve resists a flinch when the last word booms through the room. Instead of saying another word, he side-steps his parents, heading upstairs. Flicking on the light in his room, stuffing as much of his stuff into a tote bag. His room already looks bare except for the sheet and the stupid car poster on his wall.

His mother appears in his doorway moments later, a more silent argument ready to be said. Until she sees the walls. “You painted?” she gasped.

“I did. Hope you don’t mind. I won’t be here much longer anyway. You can turn it back into what it was.”

A sickened smile forms on his mother’s face. “You never told me you wanted to change your room. We could have done it together.”

Meaning that she could have changed it while he watched. Hating how it would have turned out no matter what the product was. His mother never listened to him anyway.

“Well, you were never here long enough to change it, so I just did it myself.” He smiles to himself when his mother’s smile twitches. Knowing that his words stung.

The tote bag gets slung over his shoulder as he pushes past her. Leaving her to look at her ruined masterpiece as he packs up Julie’s room. Pulling out the tote bag she has underneath her bed and putting away the few essentials that she had left. Taking out another to shove her clothes into.

His mother gasps as she sees the paint over these walls as well. This room in particular being her favorite guest room. “What have you done?”

“Painted. Like I said.” He continues to fill the second tote bag.

Richard finds his way up the stairs, done waiting for Steve. Eyes landing on the desk where the picture of Julie and her mother rests. Steve grabs it before he can, gently placing it in the tote bag. Throwing some clothes around it so it doesn’t break.

“Has someone been living in here?” his father asks, not willing to admit he recognized the woman in the picture.

Steve takes a deep breath. “Oh no one special. Just your daughter.”

His parents stiffen at the same time. Bringing a sly smile to Steve’s face.

“I don’t have a daughter,” his mother says with feigned confidence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him.” He meets his father’s eyes again. “I was talking about Julie.”

As fast the smile formed of Steve’s face, it’s smacked off. Cheek stinging with the contact of his father’s hand. His mother gasps, scolding her husband. Knowing nothing would stop him from doing it again. Steve grabs the desk chair, using it to balance him as he gets his bearings. Waits for the ringing in his ear to calm down, for the breath to return to his lungs.

“You are never to speak that name again,” Richard commands. “She is nothing.”

“Julie is not nothing.” Steve manages to stand, only to have to grip the chair again when Richard’s fist makes contact again. Lip darting out to taste the blood coming from his split lip. A short laugh escapes as he stands, planting his feet stronger this time. “You really thought I’d never figure out about her.”

“You think you are so tough, don’t you, Steven. Changing your room, getting a job, housing someone you don’t know. All of that you could do because of me. All of that you are going to lose. What will come of you when you don’t have us paying for everything anymore? When you can’t come crawling back to us when life gets hard.”

Steve manages to stand again. Plants his feet the way he’s learned to. Treating his father like every other monster he’s faced. Wishing that there was a bat in his hand to twirl around. Make a show of protecting himself.

He doesn’t need it this time. Richard might pretend to be strong and menacing, but he’s just a person. Who got a few good hits in because Steve wasn’t prepared for them. He is now.

“You would know something about housing someone you don’t know. You’ve been housing me for twenty years.”

Richard’s arm raises again, but Steve was ready for it this time. Catching his wrist before it can contact Steve’s face. It surprises the both of them, but Steve doesn’t let his guard down. His eyes dart to his mother, who hides just barely behind Richard. Laura was never one for confrontation, and now he’s something more than just her son. Now he’s a threat.

“I am more than what you think I am. I changed my room because I never liked the old one. Because I should feel welcome in my childhood home. I got the job because if my hard work, not because of my name. I gave Julie a home because she is my sister, that is a fact. And because her and I have something in common. Our father knows nothing about us.”

“Let go of me, Steven.” For the first time, Richard is the one with fear in his eyes.

“Are you going to hit me again?” Steve tightens his grip.

Richard shakes his head. “No, no I’m not. Don’t do anything rash here, Steven.”

Steve lets go of Richard’s wrist with a swing, letting it slam back into him. “I go by Steve, but you both always ignored that anyway. I’m not some kid you get to push around anymore, no matter how hard you’ll try. You might think I’m stupid for staying here after you told me to get out, you might think what I’m doing is pointless. But I’m not doing all of this for me anymore, I’m doing it for me and for Julie. Because while you thought she was just something you could pay to never think about again, you missed out on a pretty great kid.”

He takes a deep breath. “But I guess you’re used to that. You missed out on the kid you kept around. Even if you weren’t here to see me grow up. I hope it all was worth it. It was a lot of hell for me.”

Steve grabs the tote bags, slinging one over each shoulder and the other in his hand. Taking a moment to realize that this is the last time he’ll ever set foot in this house. It’ll no longer be his home. It should be sadder than it is. There were many good memories among the bad that happened here. But he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. It’s not over yet, but he’s free of one of his chains.

“You going to let me leave? Not like you want me here anyway.”

Neither of them moves. Not ready to admit they lost.

“Where are you going to go?” Laura asks like she cares. She might, but it was too little too late at this point.

“You don’t get to know that.”

Laura lowers her head in a nod, accepting. Steve pushes his way past them and down the stairs. Finding his keys.

Richard follows him down, not willing to give up. “Don’t think you can have the car, we paid for that. It’s ours.”

Steve laughs, undoing a keychain Robin made him from the ring. “I know, was just getting this off.” He tosses Richard the keys. “There you go. House key is on there too, so you won’t have to bother about me coming back.”

He grabs his flashlight from the hall closet before opening the door. Sparing one last look at his parents, to find anything that shows remorse. All he sees is Richard’s hard stare and Laura’s sorry eyes. Nothing calling him to stay.

So he leaves.

. . .

Julie was lucky she didn’t get lost. She followed the directions and, after a while, saw the porch light. The last bit of sunlight helps her get the rest of the way there. Illuminating the path just slightly so she doesn’t trip.

“Hey,” a voice says from beside her, making her jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Julie turns to see the Chief holding a flashlight, the light pointing towards her. “I think you would have even if I knew you were there.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cold out here.” Hopper steps in front of her, leading her the rest of the way.

Joyce is waiting for them in the house. Getting up from the couch when they open the door. “You’ve been out there for a while. I was getting worried. Oh honey, you’re shaking, are you cold?”

Julie looks down at her hands, seeing them shake. She doesn’t feel cold. More in shock than anything. Afraid of something she’s never really experienced. Only hearing his voice once over the phone. That was enough to spark fear. Not for her, but for Steve.

It was all she could think about when she was walking. What Steve was going to face when his parents saw that he wasn’t there. If they saw what they did to their rooms. If they saw her.

She agreed it was probably best that she wasn’t there. It would have probably made it all ten times worse. But leaving Steve alone in that house, with them. It felt like a bad idea.

He can take care of himself, she knew that. That didn’t stop her from feeling like she should be there. Be a barrier to stop them from hurting him. In whatever way they were going to. Maybe if there was a witness, he could leave without a fight.

“Julie, sweetie, are you ok?” Joyce’s warm voice breaks through her thoughts.

Julie tries to say something, but nothing comes out. It hits her all at once how scared she was for him.

“What time is it?” she asks.

Joyce checks the clock in the living room. “Just about seven thirty, why?”

Julie left a little after seven. So, assuming Steve left right after her, he should be here soon. And if he left a bit later, he should be here by eight. That’s if nothing went wrong. If they didn’t get into an argument. Or he didn’t get lost.

“He said he’d get here within the hour. So by eight. If nothing happened. Do you think something will happen?” Her voice can’t help but shake.

Joyce makes a face that is supposed to help but doesn’t. Full of sympathy, but one of no answers. “I’m not sure. But whatever it is, he’ll be fine. I know he will.”

“And if he isn’t?” Julie keeps seeing the small person that Steve becomes when he talks to his father. How the light drains out of him, and he becomes a shell of the person he is. His father isn’t even in person and can do that. What will happen when he is in person?

“He will be,” Joyce assures. “How about you come in, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water, hot chocolate?”

Julie lets herself be led to the living room. “Water would be nice.”

“Alright. El here if you want to see her, have someone to sit with.”

“Yeah, yes. I would like that.”

Joyce smiles at her. “Ok, I’ll go get her for you. Jim.” She nods her head toward the kitchen before heading down the hall.

Hopper brings her a glass of water, which she takes. Taking a sip before setting it on the table, seeing how her hands still shake. Joyce comes back down the hall motioning for Hopper to join her in the kitchen. Leaving Julie alone in the living room. Until El comes to sit next to her.

“Joyce told me about what happened,” she says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He used to hit my mom,” Julie blurts out. “He used to hit my mom when they were together, and she made him angry. Steve made him angry. I know he did. He called the house last week and, and kicked us out. And we didn’t leave yet, because we couldn’t. Steve doesn’t get the keys for a few more days. What if he hits Steve, too?”

El’s hands find hers, holding them together to calm the shaking. Julie turns her head to meet El’s eyes. Seeing an expression that feigns strength but fear still rests in her eyes. She’s scared for Steve too.

“I have known Steve for longer that you have. I know how strong he is, how brave he is. He will be ok. I promise.” There’s a certainty in her words.

Somehow, Julie believes her. “Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah. He’ll be ok.”

“Would you like a hug?”

Julie nods. Her breath starting to even out again, the adrenaline keeping her tears at bay failing.

El opens her arms and leans forward to give Julie a hug. Julie takes it with a choked sob, tears starting to fall. El pats her back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do but it’s helping. With a few deep breaths, Julie’s able to pull herself together. Pulling away from El to wipe the tears from her eyes. She won’t be ok until Steve shows up, but she’s better. For now.

“Thanks, that helped.”

El smiles. “Good. Do you want to watch something while we wait? Keep your mind off of it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

El clicks on the tv, finding a channel with some reruns that Julie doesn’t pay attention to. Her mind is still on Steve. Knowing that the there’s no sunlight left to guide the way, and he has no walkie to let her know when she’s coming. Yet she still grips the one resting in her lap. Hoping by some miracle she hears Steve’s voice through the staticky connection and knows he’s ok.

But nothing comes through. The only noise filling the house is the tv, and the not so silent whispering between Joyce and the Chief in the kitchen. After a while, Hopper heads back outside with the flashlight, walkie stuffed in his jacket pocket. He’s going to look for Steve.

It feels like forever before there’s a knock at the door. Making Julie sit up straighter. Joyce emerges from the kitchen to open it. A very winded Steve behind the door, tote bags slung over his shoulder and flashlight in hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes while catching his breath. “I had to go the long way.”

Joyce ushers him in. Steve barely gets a chance to put the bags down before Julie’s on her feet and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re ok.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Did you get here ok, I know I kind of freaked you out.”

Julie lets go. “Freaked me out. Steve, you terrified the shit out of me. After the phone call last week and the little I knew about him I,” she pauses when she sees his split lip. “He hit you?”

Steve touches his lip. “Yeah, he, uh, he did. But I’m ok. I’ve had far worse than this.”

“You say that like it makes it ok. It doesn’t.”

He looks down with a shake of his head. “I know it doesn’t.”

“He really hit you because you didn’t leave.” Julie can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea. But then, she would never hit someone for any reason. Let alone that.

Steve clears his throat. “Sort of. Why don’t you go sit with El for a bit, I have to talk to Joyce for a second.”

She gives him a confused look, knowing he didn’t answer her question fully. But she still goes to sit on the couch again. Him and Joyce go to the kitchen, speaking in whispers. Something tells her that reason he was attacked was because of her.

. . .

Joyce uses her walkie to let Hopper know that Steve is at the house. She gets him a glass of water and makes him sit down, looking at his lip.

“It’s really not that bad. You and I both know this is the least beat up I’ve ever been after a fight.”

She sits down in the chair across from him. “You should listen to Julie. That still doesn’t make it ok.”

He looks down at his hands. “I know. Just easier to think of it that way. Out of all the things he’s done, he’s never hit me before.”

Hopper comes into the kitchen, sitting down next to Joyce. “You ok, kid?”

Steve shakes his head. “I will be, just need a second. Thanks for making sure she got here. Making sure she was safe. I didn’t know what would happen if he saw her there. Just knowing that she was there at all was the reason why,” he can’t finish the sentence.

“Of course. You both can stay here as long as you need to,” Joyce offers.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hopper crosses his arms. “You could press charges if you wanted, make your case a little stronger.”

“It’s my word against his, and my mom will never speak out against him.” She never did before, why would it change now. “Can I use your phone, I need to make some calls.”

Joyce nods and Steve heads to the phone in the hall. Pulling out Sarah’s number from his pocket. Dialing it with a deep breath. She wouldn’t be happy with this.

She wasn’t. Cursing Steve through the phone with an “I told you so”. But grateful that Julie is safe, grateful that he is too. She gives him a day before she’ll say anything. Give him time to make it look like Julie was just at an extended sleepover. For them to move. He thanks her just before she hangs up.

Robin is next. Takes a second to make sure he’s ok before cursing out his dad. Offering to go over there herself and give him a piece of her mind. He tells her it’s a bad idea, she disagrees, but still says she will keep it all for when she sees him in court. That way there will be witnesses. She makes sure he’s ok, offers to come over. Steve assures that he’s fine and will talk to her again in the morning.

The last person is Eddie. Steve already knows how he’ll react, but still hopes he won’t freak out that much.

“Where are you right now?” he asks after Steve fills him in.

“The Byers. It was the closest place that was safe.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Steve holds the phone closer to his mouth. “Eds, really. You don’t have to come over.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Eddie hangs up before Steve can protest anymore.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to see Eddie right now. That if knowing that his boyfriend was willing to drop everything just to be there with him right now didn’t bring him comfort. Part of him didn’t want Eddie to see him like this, though. Fragile, partially homeless. Taken a few hits to the face.

As if Eddie hasn’t seen Steve beat up before. Pretty much all of Hawkins has, it’s a reoccurring event. But those times were different. It was because of his own idiocy or protecting someone. This was at the hands of someone that already caused him more pain than he should have gone through. He didn’t know how to admit that he got hit for no reason.

He heads back to the kitchen, tells them that Eddie’s coming over. They don’t say much, but have a knowing look in their eye. One that scares the hell out of him, but makes him feel seen at the same time. Steve could be himself in this house. Around these people. It wasn’t even his, and it felt more like home than he’s ever known.

“I never asked if you were ok,” Steve says as he sits down next to Julie. “Are you?”

Julie shrugs. “As ok as I can be I guess.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Did he hit you because of me?” Julie asks after a pause.

Steve would do anything to lie to her right now. To dart around the question and make up some excuse. Knowing her, she would see right through it. She didn’t need him lying to add to tonight. But would it be better for her to know the truth?

There’s a knock at the door before Steve can try to answer. He thinks it’s for the best. Enough has happened for one night.

He stands when Joyce opens the door. Almost getting pushed out of the way when Eddie sees Steve in the living room. They meet in a hug, Steve feeling more relieved that he thought he would.

“Those jackasses couldn’t have waited a few more days before they finally came home. They had to do it while you were still there.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah well, they never had the best timing.”

Eddie notices the cut on his lip when he pulls back from the hug. Eyes filling with anger. “I’m actually going to get arrested for murder this time.”

“Eds, it’s really not that bad.”

“Not that bad.” Eddie’s voice raises. “Not that bad, Steve. You have a fucking split lip. Your eye is puffy.”

Steve tries to calm Eddie down, still conscious of the people around them. Trying not to make it look too revealing. “It could be worse.”

He sees Joyce say something to the girls that gets them to leave and head down the hall. Leaving him and Eddie alone in the living room.

“How hard did he hit you? Can you hear me alright? What about your vision, nothing’s blurry. You can still see fine?” Eddie clocks when they leave, grabbing Steve’s head with both his hands, assessing the damage.

Steve tries to pull Eddie’s hands away, make this less of a big deal. “I can hear and see fine. He didn’t hit me hard enough to do anything. I’ve had worse, it’s the least concerning thing that’s happened in the last few hours.”

“Your father, a grown man, assaulted you. His son. And you think there are more concerning things that happened in the last few hours.” Eddie’s face falls. “Just because you’re an adult when he hit you doesn’t make it better.”

“I know that,” he admits. Starting to feel the weight of everything finally sink in. “I just don’t know how to process it all right now. Tonight’s been a lot and I just need a minute, a day, I don’t know. Something. I just can’t think about that right now.”

“Ok,” Eddie says softly. “Ok. Then we won’t talk about it anymore. When every you’re ready. Does it hurt though, do you need ice or anything? Last thing, I promise.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no. It’s ok. I’m ok right now.”

Eddie nods. Kissing Steve before pulling him into another hug.

Just when Steve gets his life together, it all falls apart again. Or at least feels like it. In just a few days, the pieces will be put back into place. His life will get back on schedule. His schedule. Where he can move into a house that he bought, with his own money. To a job that he got, by himself. And life that has nothing to do with his last name.

Even if the court date is a few months away, and he’ll have to see his parents again. But after that, he’ll never have to interact with them again. He will be permanently free.

Right now. He’s trying to hold it all together. Making his brain slow down to give himself a minute to breath. Before the crushing reality of all that just happened presses down on his chest. And they’ll take hold of his mind again. Just for a little while, then he’ll break free again.

Joyce insists they stay the night. Explaining how Julie is already set up in El’s room, and how the two of them can take the pull-out couch. Just like that, with no explanation needed. Or excuses. Maybe Steve could tell everyone about them soon.

It’s still early when everyone goes to bed. Just wanting the day to be over, even if they’re not tired. But the comfort of darkness lets Eddie scoot closer, hold Steve a little tighter. Make him feel put together even though he’s slowly starting to fall apart.

Tomorrow is a new day. With plenty of problems to be solved and conversations to be had. Telling the rest of the group to stay clear of his old house and change his contact information with a few people. Try to get the keys a few days earlier.

Tonight is meant for sleep. To float around and exist without anything pressing his mind. Wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms and feel comfort for a brief moment. Until his looks in the mirror again and see the healing cut on his lip, and the slight bruise on his cheek. Almost fall apart all over again until he pulls himself back together. Each time a little weaker than the last until he finally breaks.

It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. To bottle everything up for the sake of other. For the sake of himself. Steve really can’t process everything right now. It would sting more that it already does. So, it gets pushed away. Until he’s ready to face it again.

He only hopes that time will be sooner than most. So he doesn’t blow up at someone that’s undeserving. Saying something he can’t take back.

But right now, he doesn’t need to think about that. Right now he needs to sleep.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

[anglingforlevels]

Love & Cruelty: Yandere Bully Victim x Bully Reader

I thought I’d write a piece for the first day of the year, just something mild to start the year off, but I slept through and cleaned most of the day, so instead I wrote it for the second day in the year, huzzah.

CW: Yandere, bullying, depiction of domestic violence and abuse, mention of alcoholism, violence (against reader), not proofread, dead dove

Minors DNI

Present Time

You had done something unforgiveable.

Everywhere you went, you were reminded of it. You saw it reflected in your parents’ eyes and teachers’ disappointed glances, heard it in your classmates whispers and murmurs, the way they’d avoid you, the way you’d spend lunches alone, the way they’d warn other students not to go near you, and most of all, you saw it in Elias.

The guy you had been relentlessly bullying for years.

Ten Years Ago

It began in elementary school. Your hometown was too small to have any more than one, so everyone were familiar with each other. It was a sense of comfortability, the trust and familiarity carried the brunt of most conflicts, thus, the atmosphere always felt so light, even amidst the middle school dramas and awkwardness.

Then a new kid from another town enrolled. In hindsight, the discomfort had perhaps just been the introduction of something new, something foreign, because even that first day – the air had felt stifled.

“This is your new classmate, Elias.”

He was small and scrawny, like the wind could knock him down without any notice. You had taken notice of the glasses he had worn, held together by tape, concealing a pair of pale blue eyes, to how baggy his clothes had been, and how his brown hair looked so messy and unkempt.

 Even without anyone needing to say a word about him, the atmosphere around him felt heavy.

“Please take the empty seat.”

That was all the teacher said, as if he had been in a hurry to get it over with. So, unceremoniously, Elias took the single empty seat there had been added to the room and kept his head down low.

Even if the air felt off, there was a certain buzz as well. Everyone was curious, how could they not be? So once the bell rang, everyone all but flocked to his desk, asking about where he came from, why he had moved, what did he like to do, any question they thought of.’

You remained in your seat, your head in your arms as you watched the interaction.

Elias struggled to keep up with the barrage of questions, though he weren’t given much time to answer any of them until a new one popped up. Still, he’d always take a second to look thoughtful, as if he genuinely gave thought to each question, even if it was clear the excitement would overwhelm any possibility of a reply.

“Enough.” The teacher’s voice had rung out sharply. “Go hold your own break.”

In other words, leave him alone.

Deflated, everyone moved away. Looking around, you disliked the way everyone’s shoulders were slumped and the awkwardness. Tipping in your chair, you let yourself fall back, catching everyone’s attention.

“Ah, I was paying attention!” You cried out in fake alarm, to which everyone laughed.

“As if, you were totally asleep!”

“No, no. I was definitely awake and paying attention.” You denied.

“Pfft- It’s break already, y’know.”

“Gah-“

Like that the bitterness dissolved and the classroom was once again familiar, warm, and filled with laughter. Even the frigidness of the teacher melted away as he shook his head and rolled his eyes with a small smile.

With normality restored, the break proceeded as it always did. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elias’ solitary figure.

Though that moment had been dealt with, the rest of the day kept its spotlight on Elias, as rumors began spreading.

“My moms were talking about him the other day, so there must be some big deal about him.” Sophia had shared, and many others similarly could share anecdotes on how their parents had been whispered about him.

“We all know our duty, I trust.” You said, even though your parents hadn’t given any hint of knowing something about Elias. Everyone nodded, taking their self-decided job of detective seriously; there was a secret and none of you were content with letting sleeping dogs lie.

*

You were eager to go to school the following day, in case of any breaks in the case. In your case, it seemed your parents genuinely didn’t even know a new student had begun, though they were always too busy with their own matters to pay attention to that kind of thing.

You came up with all manners of ideas and scenarios, while tossing and turning in bed, though most of them grew outlandish, if not outright impossible, by the fourth idea. Though, you quite liked the idea of it being an intergalactic exchange program.

When morning came, you happily obliged the alarm, a fact there seemed to be so unlike you, that your mother jokingly checked if you had a fever. But nothing got the blood pumping like a mystery, so for once, you got seated at the breakfast table without needing any help.

Your little brother was much less willing, groggily trailing after your mom who had woken him up, though he apparently still had the energy to both watch cartoons and list up the entire catalogue of characters from said cartoon.

“Will dad be home this weekend?” your little brother asked when an ad break had given them a breather from his enthusiasm. The corner of your mom’s smile trembled slightly.

“Maybe.”

Before your brother lifted his head from the bowl of oatmeal that had held his attention – or rather, the fruit pieces he tried to single out – to look at mom, you distracted him. “His boss is like one of those villains from your cartoon, she might make him work through the weekend last minute.”

“The villains in my cartoons are way cooler than that.” He argued, preparing to explain the personality of each villain, you assumed. You didn’t doubt it. Though perhaps they were more honest, monologuing their plans out loud, regardless of what the truth would break.

“Well, they’re bad guys and so is his boss – my comparison still tracks.”

Your mom ruffled your hair with a soft smile. “I’m sure it does, but you need to begin eating if you wanna make the bus in time.”

At that, you began shoveling food, briefly considering whether chewing really was necessary – and being chided by your mom when you predictably began harking and coughing.

“I’m off!” You yelled out once you had gotten your shoes and jacket on.

At school, it seemed that everyone’s parents had been reluctant to share the secret, and so had the faculty, favoring silence instead, leaving everyone to simmer in curiosity, scrutinizing Elias’ movements.

You had boldly strolled up to him, asking “So, why are you here?”, but had been told to bugger off by the teacher himself, who didn’t seem to approve of any of the current attempts to interact with the kid. Perhaps, if you had done it in the break, you’d have gotten an answer, but now that the teacher was aware of the snooping, he dedicated ten minutes of the lesson to scolding the entire class.

But secrets often broke before silence did.

The next day, everyone had heard the whispers and rumors about Elias and why he was here, from older students in the hallways or parents who caved in. How he had been removed from his home, how he had been abused. No one knew what to say, he became a presence that was hard to acknowledge but impossible to ignore.

Elias seemed resigned to it, or maybe he just didn’t notice the difference between sitting alone as a new kid or sitting alone as a taboo subject.

“Jay, start us off.”

Jay, who had been rereading the German text furiously, stood up so abruptly that the chair almost fell over in the process, to the bemusement of his fellow students and the annoyance of the teacher. Jay looked too nervous to even be sheepish, even after the teacher remarked that there was no need to stand up to read out loud.

“Sein Bla, er, I mean. Sein Bl-ick ist vom, no, no, I mean fom!”

You were following along his clumsily pronounced words, in order not to lose track of where in the text he was at, as he kept stopping to try and repeat words, though he seemed proud whenever he caught himself making mistakes.

After another line, the teacher raised a hand to stop him, before coolly adding; “That’ll do. Next time, try practicing a bit before class, alright?”

Jay hung his head, hiding his annoyed frown. Ellie, who sat behind him, reached out to pat his back.

“Elias, please continue from where Jay left off.”

“Ah, um…” He looked around cluelessly, until the teacher sighed and gave his copy of the text to Elias, pointing at where they were at. Elias complied, clutching unto the paper.  “I-ihm,” he swallowed, “est, ist, uh, a-als orb-“

He stuttered and stumbled nervously over the words, the reading becoming so intelligible that Sophia, who was next, wasn’t sure where to begin her section. And the teacher didn’t say anything. Even though he told off Jay, who put in way more practice…

When it was your turn, you stood up – earning a scoff from the teacher. “N-n-n-n-nur m-m-manchmal-“ You loudly read out, your exaggerated stuttering earning breathless chuckles and snickers across the room.

“That’s enough, that’s not funny. Sit down.” With that dry remark, the teacher let the subject fall. Your eyes fell on the back of Elias as you sat down, you noticed the way he was trembling slightly. Then Jay caught your eyes, grinning behind his book, and around you everyone else was also laughing, and Elias’ weak trembling was soon forgotten.

For the first time today, the atmosphere felt light.

*

During lunch, Elias was sitting alone again, with what might be the saddest sandwich you had ever seen. Two incredibly thin slices of cheap bread, encasing a single and even thinner slice of ham. The dryness and how loose the sandwich was made you think there wasn’t a hint of butter or condiments to it either.

You looked down at your lunch. You could probably afford to give away one or two things. Your mom always were generous with portions, so you probably wouldn’t be too hungry if you gave something away.

“Hey, Elias!” you waved him over. For a moment he just stared at you with uncertainty. You nodded enthusiastically and gestured for him to come sit. Elias’ eyes betrayed a sense of disbelief, but he quickly complied, hurrying to your side.

You proudly slid your beloved egg-salad sandwich towards him. “My mom made way too much for me today, but she’ll be super annoyed with me if I have leftovers. So,” you clapped your hand together. “Please help cover for me!”

The others always loved it when you put on a little show, to seal the deal you sighed theatrically, the type of sigh that could only be performed tongue-in-cheek or by overeager drama students.

Elias examined the sandwich carefully, as if he thought it would be yanked away from him should he make any sudden movements. Around you, the others stiffened.

“Uh, yeah… Take one of mine too.”

“And my apple…”

The others around you began providing their own offerings, but their eyes were downcast, as if a weight hung around their necks. You furrowed your brow at that. They clearly didn’t want to give away their food.

You thought Elias would look anxious, being the center of the most painful give-away session, you had witnessed. Instead, he looked at you wide-eyed – he reminded you of a duckling with the way he looked at you, expectant yet hesitant.

It irked you. If he wasn’t uncomfortable, then why didn’t he spare a glance to everyone else who was? Somehow, lunch had become a painful event.

“Hm, nevermind.” You suddenly declared, cutting through the quiet pity, and simmering discomfort. You snapped the sandwich out of his hand. You felt everyone’s eyes on you as they waited to see where you were heading with this. “Clearly, you’ve got more than enough.”

You looked pointedly at the disjointed mix of pity-encrusted offerings. After a beat, Elphie nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, actually this is too much for one person.” And took back the apple she had given. The others followed suit, retracting their offers, and taking their food back.

The mood was improving but the stare of Elias felt like shackles, tying the mood to a subpar level. If he was going to take from you, then you’d need to even the scores.

You scoffed before smiling. “Yeah, it’s way too much for one person. But we’ll help you out, new kid.”

And with those words, you took the last thing away – the pitiful sandwich Elias had brought.

The others laughed in disbelief, throwing in light-hearted “aw, that’s mean” between giggles. Everything was restored as laughter filled the room again, and Elias was left behind.

Present Time

Trailing along the river and jumping over the thick branches, you understood the fact that you had committed a cruelty that couldn’t be taken back.

How could you forget, when no one else did, save for the one guy being bullied. He still rushed up to you, wide-eyed, even when you didn’t call for him. You didn’t really understand him, who’d wanna spend time with their bully?

Part of you felt creeped out by his eagerness, even though part of you understood he might just be scared that things would escalate if he didn’t, or even worse, that this was a survival tactic he had learned from home.

It had quickly become the school’s worst-kept secret, that Elias had been removed from his physically abusive dad’s care. Even though you never got violent, perhaps this was how Elias had learned to keep peace?

You felt disgusted with yourself, for your actions, your lack of perspective, and for, even now, seeking him out, because by the river, stood Elias, feeding the ducks. You wanted to turn tail and run away – but even if you couldn’t make amends, this was something you had to do.

Eight Years Ago

You woke up in the middle of the night and wished for nothing more than to succumb to sleep’s sweet embrace, but a dry throat proved the better negotiator, prompting you to sneak through the hallway as to not wake anyone up.

As you neared the kitchen, the sound of hushed voices proved those considerations null.

“Erik, you don’t bring that shit to my house.”

“Oh, so now it’s your house?”

“Well, I’m the one sleeping here every night-“

“Ugh, would you quit it?! I was just sleeping over, she’s a friend!”

“Uh-huh, a sleepover, was it? I’d sure like a friend like that, if this is what a husba-“

Biting your lip, you purposely stepped on the floorboard you knew creaked, and forced a yawn as you entered the kitchen. Your mom and dad straightened up, the guilty look on their faces made you think of the face your little brother pulled when he was caught trying to sneak another snack.

“Hi honey, why’re you up?”

“I’m thirsty. Can I have something warm to drink?”

They visibly relaxed at that. You wondered why they thought you wouldn’t notice that kind of reaction. “Of course, honey. We’ll make something for you.”

In the end, it didn’t matter. For a brief moment, your parents were smiling and everything was normal again.

The next day, after braving the harsh coldness of winter, you made it to school, where everyone else seemed much less well-rested than you.

It seemed everyone was bummed out about the upcoming test scores, suggesting nobody was particularly proud or confident in their own work. Then again, they were probably concerned, given it was only last year you had all graduated into middle schoolers.

Even though it was still in the same building, it felt like a big deal.

You remembered last time a test had gotten the better of everyone’s nerves, that you had “accidentally” spilled your water bottle all over yourself, that had worked like a spell, everyone too busy laughing and fretting over you to worry about their grades.

This case was particularly nasty, though. Your light-hearted jabs doing nothing to penetrate the armor of stress and anxiety they all wore.

“Anyone up for some pizza after school?” You asked, when you weren’t met with excitement, you added. “My treat.”

“That sounds good but I’m not sure my stomach can take it, if I get a bad grade.” Jay said, his anxiety clearly having turned painful and was clutching his stomach with a groan. The others weren’t much better off.

Your eyes fell on your water bottle, once again reminded of your efforts last time. But you couldn’t repeat the same old thing, complacency was the enemy of comedy.

“Elias sure doesn’t seem bothered.” Sophia noted with a hint of envy, at that, the attention shifted to Elias, who true to Sophia’s words, appeared to be enjoying a normal school day, bereft of any added stresses from the test scores, though it felt more like apathy to you.

You weren’t sure if he actually cared about his grades at all.

“He didn’t look worried at all under the test either.” Jay murmured.

“Whaat, so he was confident? Coulda offered some pointers then.”

…

You loosened the cap on your bottle and stood up, interrupting the quiet mumbling of your classmates.

“Hey Elias.” You called out, gaining his attention. He was quick to close his notebook, clutching it closely to his chest, as he hurried to your side. He was always so eager, as if you hadn’t thrown spiders or played tricks on him almost every time you called on him. “I can’t get my water opened, the others were total weaklings and failed too. Be my knight in shining armor, ‘kay?”

You held your bottle out to him, and he swiftly grabbed it, but you didn’t let go at first. You waited for a beat, so that he’d stumble slightly, and gravity would remove the already opened cap. The force made the water splash all over Elias, surprising him enough to let go of the bottle, thus leaving it in a freefall that left Elias even more soaked, as he desperately tried to keep his notebook dry.

“Wow, if I had known you were this strong, I’d have stepped back first from the splash-zone.”

The others laughed at the display, and Sophia pulled you towards the tables and away from the soaked Elias. “You’re way too nice, you’re always looking out for us.” She had said to you.

You had taken those words to heart, in a way, you considered it a duty, looking out for them and the status quo. So, you continued.

From tripping him, leaving messes when it was his turn to clean the classroom, making fun of him, playing pranks on him – everyone was laughing.

Four Years Ago

Over the year, as you all got older, the laughter began to still and the others would begin suggesting other things to do whenever you spotted him. You thought your efforts were lacking, but even though you tried harder, the gleam in their eyes were missing and their laughter rang out hollower, the sound empty and muted.

Soon they began excusing themselves from you, growing infinitely busier whenever you were in the vicinity. Were you being too mild? Maybe that was simply what happened in comedy, complacency made it boring.

So, you’d hide his stuff, steal his lunch, whatever you could think of to take it up a notch, so that you could help reclaim normality, so everyone else would smile and laugh again.

Everything came to a head during a self-study period. Having gotten up from your seat, you sauntered over to Elias.

“Lemme take a look.” You said, trying to peek at his worn-out notebook. Normally, Elias let you do anything, but this time, he closed the notebook shut. You tried to pull it out his tight grip. “Hm? What’s the big idea? Hidin’ something?”

“Just stop it, I’m telling the teacher!” a voice rung out behind you, startling you. It was Ellie, one of your classmates, who crossed her arms angrily. You had never seen her angry before.

“Uh, sorry. I wasn’t trying to actually cheat. No need to get a teacher.” You tried to clarify.

“As if that’s what we’re talking about.” You were surprised to see Jay interject. “You’re… a bully.”

…

“A what?” you blinked in disbelief. “C’mon, that’s not funny-“

“You’re not funny.” A third voice interjected. Looking around, you saw a sea of disapproving faces. “Leave him alone, honestly what did he ever do to you?”

“C’mon, we all had fun goofing around.”

“This is not goofing around. We were kids, we stopped. You didn’t.”

You stood silently for a bit, unsure what to say, until you grabbed your bag and unceremoniously left, skipping the rest of the day. You didn’t spare a single glance for Elias – worried what his expression might reveal.

How were you a bully? You couldn’t be. That was ridiculous. Everyone else had always laughed along, they always loved it. This would all blow over soon once everyone calmed down enough to talk it out.

But the next day, not a single person spoke to you. The teacher didn’t pick you or call on you either. It was as if you were invisible. The only one to look at you were Elias.

It annoyed you.

During the break, nobody welcomed you to their tables. A few even telling you to fuck off, explicitly. You wondered if this was going to continue, as you spent your break feeling sorry for yourself.

When you got home after school, you took a deep breath and put on a smile, hoping it looked genuine and carefree. But when you entered, it wasn’t normality embracing you but heated voices.

“If you spent even one weekend actually at home then-“

“Oh, so this is my fucking fault?!”

This early today?

You let your bag hit the floor to make their argument halt, before seeking them out to ease the atmosphere. “Hey mom and dad, playing that dumb quiz game again?”

You smiled at them but not even the excuse on a silverplate eased their expression.

Huh? Why do they still look so upset?

Your mom had her arms crossed and donned a frown, while your dad looked troubled.

“We got a call from your school today.”

Why would they receive a call from the school? Though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, Jay’s voice replayed in your head. “You’re… a bully.”

This... No, this wasn’t right.

“Ah, about my last test? Gah, I really screwed up with-“

“No. This is about your classmate, Elias.”

Your forced smile froze. Were they going to call you a bully too? Elias was the one who kept taking from you, your classroom, your classmates, and now your parents?

Their expressions were broken, as they seemed to decide between staring intently at you and being unable to look at you. You think your dad had wanted to weep, his eyes teary the entire night, but your parents weren’t good as sadness – so they settled for anger.

*

You still continued going to school, though it was the only excursion you were allowed for the foreseeable future. The school itself did nothing once the call had been made, happy to ignore any issues there’d reflect badly on them.

But the word had spread even further, to other grades and every teacher, and you felt the way people fell silent when you entered a room, the way they’d put their bags on empty seats to show you weren’t welcome.

During your breaks, your new routine became to retreat somewhere in solitude, after all your attempts of joining a group at lunch failed. It felt almost voluntary if you went somewhere lonesome. But it didn’t remain that way today, as Elias showed up.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought,” he said, his own nerves seeming to leave him breathless, as he got closer “you’re alone at lunch, so we could-“

“Great, I’m being pitied now?” you sneered. “You got some nerve; this is your fault to begin with.”

He kept taking and taking.

Elias, stilled for a moment, before resuming his careful approach, as if you were a wild beast. He was within arm reach of you, and still approaching.

“Get the hint already.” You said and shoved him. You didn’t mean to push him to the ground, you just wanted to get him away from you, but even so, he landed harshly on the ground, hissing out in pain.

You stared, frozen.

You noticed the way his elbow had been scratched and was bleeding.

With no crowd, you were faced with the simple reality. No one was laughing, you were just hurting someone – there was nothing else to it. Wiping your teary eyes with quivering hands, you left.

Two Years Ago

“Today, a new student begins.” There was a ruckus in the classroom, excited murmurs, and whispers. “I expect all of you to welcome her with open arms.” Your teacher didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t looking at you, at the last part.

You kept your head down, pretending not to be paying much attention.

The town was still small, and newcomers were still a rarity, this girl being the first one since Elias – so you couldn’t help your own curiosity as well, watching her introduce herself. She said her name was Ann, she wore bright-colored clothes and had a lot of freckles.

She seemed sweet, and impressively unaffected by speaking in front of strangers. You accidentally made eye contact, and she smiled sweetly at you. You replayed the moment over and over in your head.

When break came, she was crowded as expected, but you thought you’d shoot your shot – it had been a long time since you had a friend, so you felt anxious. Your mouth was dry, and your legs felt like cement, but you had to do it.

On three, you’d get up and say hi.

One.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You heard Ann ask about the ones still seated.

Two.

You opened your eyes, putting your hands on the table. “The guy in the front is Elias, he’s not very sociable, so don’t worry about him not coming over.”

Three.

“What about them?”

“Oh, them. They’re a bully, you should stay away from them.”

You were half-way up from your seat when you heard it. It felt as if being doused by ice water, breaking the illusion, and you sat back down.

Present Time

You swallowed, before drawing attention to yourself. “Elias.”

He turned around, shocked at your approach. Whether he was startled or was surprised at the fact you did the approaching, you couldn’t tell. Your hands felt sweaty and clammy.

“You’re-“ his voice wavered as he took a step closer to you. You held your hands up, to show you came in peace, but he came to a halt at the gesture.

“Listen, I… Shit.” You dug your nails into your palm, trying to steel yourself. “I’m sorry.”

Elias’ creased his brow. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah, I know that might be hard to believe or, y’know, sound super sketchy coming from me but, I really am. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, I know no words could ever- Nothing I say could…” Your rambled, clumsy words fell apart, you had been unable to pen down anything appropriate to say before coming here, and now your tongue seemed to fail as well.

His eyes widened and his body stiff, he donned a stunned expression.

But that was only natural, wasn’t it? Expecting him to even want to hear your apology to begin with… It was nothing but arrogance.

“I… Sorry.”

You turned around to leave but he grabbed hold of your wrist. When you looked at him, you were caught off guard by the desperation in his eyes, he was crying.

“What do you mean sorry?!” His hold on your wrist was beginning to hurt, as he got closer. “It wasn’t wrong, I’m still here. Don’t say you’re sorry!”

“I- I understand you’re probably feeling a lot of different things right now, words aren’t enough, I understand that, but…” You felt his nails digging painfully into your wrist and wondered if it’d bruise tomorrow. “Please let go of me.”

“Don’t leave me alone. Don’t abandon me.”

“W-what?” You attempts to tear his hand off your wrist came to a halt at that. You were noticing the way blood droplets were pooling around his fingertips, but you doubted that he did. “T-then, we can be friends, it doesn’t have to be so mean, I promise to spend time with you.”

Elias expression fell, and for the first time, you saw a frown on his face, and his voice was quiet.

“Don’t stop.” Elias grabbed onto your shoulder, leaving almost no room between the two of you, and his voice rose into desperate yells, almost cracking. “Please! Keep going! It doesn’t matter what everyone else says, our way is definitely right. Mock me, kick me, just keep going. Don’t ever tell me sorry!”

His grab on you had weakened for a moment when tears became weeping, and you took the opportunity to rip your arm out of his hold. “You’re fucking crazy!”

Maybe there was a kinder response, even with your bleeding arm you felt bad about it, but somehow that was the only response your shock and fear could bring out. You turned to leave, vowing to yourself that you’d at least reach out after someone who could provide the help he clearly needed.

It hadn’t occurred to you that Elias could ever be a threat, as you without hesitance turned your back on him, when you felt a searing pain in the back of your head, and the world went dark.

*

From an early age, it was apparent to Elias’ what true cruelty was.

Apathy.

When he was young, his mother had suffered a stroke and passed away. His father didn’t take it well, seeking peace at the end of bottles. Most nights he might as well have been dead, as far as the world was concerned.

He saw nothing and wanted to feel nothing too.

This left Elias alone.

No matter how much he cried and begged, it only drove his father further into despair on the few occasions he took notice of him, and further into the arms of alcohol’s sweet oblivion.

He tried cleaning the house, making it look nice. Tried cooking dinner, he had burned himself a couple of times, but his dad never noticed that nor the meal. Nothing worked.

So, he began saying things his dad couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore.

“Mother was weak to die over something so small.”

“I’m glad mother is dead; she was an awful parent.”

“It’s your fault she’s dead, she was overworked.”

It never failed to draw a reaction, angry yells and stomps, arguments, even slaps. And that – that was attention! His dad was paying him attention!

Elias had finally found his perfect home life. He’d break plates on purpose and his dad would get angry and tell him. He’d mock his mother’s death and his dad would slap him. Even as the dad’s eating habits decreased, replaced by more and more bottles, Elias felt truly happy.

“I’m surprised you haven’t moved on from someone that ugly.”

Slap.

Elias was happy to start the day like that, and was ready to begin preparing breakfast, when the sound of sobs caught his attention. His dad had collapsed to the floor, weeping.

“Am I the kind of person who hits other when I’m angry, is this all there’s left of me?”

What?

Far worse than indifference and apathy, his father - the same one who only loved when prompted – cried in regret over loving him, no prompting needed. Elias smashed one of those forsaken bottles right next to his dad, causing glass to splinter, nicking his dad.

“What’s that supposed to mean, old man. Are you that useless, that you can’t even love your kid?” Elias released a bitterness that he had always swallowed and accepted.

Why did he always need to work for attention? Why was he the only one putting in effort? He smashed another bottle, this time right next to his dad’s head. Maybe the third one would actually hit him, but as Elias’ lifted another bottle, he was interrupted by a punch to the face.

Oh. This is it.

Crumbled on the ground with a broken nose, Elias felt truly loved for the first time. He hadn’t tried to make his dad do this, that meant it was genuine and almost unprompted. He had received attention, far harsher and more impactful than before.

However, the sound of broken bottles had attracted the neighbors in the apartment complex, as Elias hadn’t taken sound into consideration in the heat of the moment.

Of course, there was only one conclusion they could draw, walking in on this scene. A child on the floor with a broken nose, broken bottles amidst many, many empty ones.

Without much fanfare, Elias’ father was convicted, and Elias was taken away. But he held onto that moment of love, maybe one day when his father was released, they’d reunite and be a happy family again.

Elias got a new start in a new city but was left on his own. He felt the adults look at him with pity, and as always, pity meant being ignored and brushed aside.

He had learned it during his mother’s funeral, that grownups hated not knowing what to say or do, they hated not being able to fix a problem – so when they couldn’t, they’d look away. Soon, as his classmates learned, they began averting their gaze too.

Except for one.

Elias found what he had been looking for all this time. Without any prompting, they had shown him love. They were a shining light in the dark, the kindest person among brutes. Without fail, they’d shower him with attention and love, and they did it so boldly in front of others too.

Elias thought that this might have been what heaven felt like, but he was sure that in the future, they’d forge a genuine paradise together. He wondered who would take whose last name, and often doodled drawings of them in his notebook.

He even borrowed a book of wedding rituals from across the world, so he could draw them in all kinds of wedding attire. Then – a crack in paradise.

“You’re… a bully.”

Were they that stupid? Or maybe they were blind. If they didn’t see the love he shared with them. They pulled back after that, even when Elias tried to seek them out. They had asked if he couldn’t take a hint, but of course he could.

Their classmates told the teachers and everyone that they were a monster, and like idiots, the entire school believed it. If he didn’t want them to be expelled and separated from him, like his father, they needed to hold back, until it all blew over.

So, he didn’t poke and prod, he didn’t push. Even as they ran from him, he didn’t mind. They weren’t leaving him behind, being together like this was probably just too much for them. They really were a romantic.

Even if it took years, he waited. Graduation was going to be soon, and after that, they could be together, unrestrained. So, when they approached him, he felt delighted. Ah, they couldn’t help themselves?

How cute.

He had also felt more and more impatient, the closer graduation came – like always, they were united in their feelings. They were even stumbling over their words nervously, it was an adorable and exciting new side to them, one he had never seen.

“I’m sorry.”

…The hell did they just say?

No, that wasn’t right, that wasn’t okay – please, keep looking at him, he needs them to keep looking at him. “Then – we can be friends, it doesn’t have to be so mean, I promise to spend time with you”? Don’t make him laugh, don’t promise apathy coated with sugar-lies.

It’s no different than the others “that’s mean, we should be nicer to him”, “let’s play nice from now on”, “leave him alone, honestly what did he ever do to you” all ends the same, he’s alone and ignored. The sight of their back turned to him, was the only reason he needed.

With a nearby branch, he lunged at them.

*

You opened your eyes, the world blurry for a while before beginning to take any shape there made sense to you. A headache rung through your head, with heavy thuds, and your body felt stiff.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Elias’ voice sounded cheerful behind you, but it was first when you tried to turn around, that your slow, pained mind realized you were tied to a chair. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad anymore.”

You felt his hand on your head, and thought his touch was gentle, the weight was still enough to make you hiss in pain. Elias came into view, standing by your side.

“This is my fault, I realized. I got it all wrong, and then you got the wrong idea. I thought I needed to do things differently this time, so we weren’t separated like me and my dad, so I held back all this time, I didn’t push.

But then you kept ignoring me, no matter how much I tried to talk to you. I thought I’d wait, just like you wanted. But I was wrong. When you apologized, I was so confused and heartbroken, but I understand now! It was my fault; I didn’t get your hint.”

“Hint?” Your voice sounded slow and distant in your ears. Elias nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ve been selfish this entire time,” his words almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears, still managed to clearly fill your heart, a dreadful, unwelcome intrusion. He crouched next to your tied up form, a gentle smile on his lips and a crinkle in his eyes.

Then he harshly grabbed onto your hair, forcing your body upwards, in an awkward position due to being tied to the chair. “Love is about giving,” he let go, letting you and the chair crash towards the floor with no way of breaking the fall. “But all I’ve done is take.”

You were trembling, as you attempted to shift to a position there’d at least let your current threat remain visible. A hard kick forced your head against the floor until it felt as if your bones would shift beneath the weight.

“But that’s no good, not if I want to keep receiving.” The pressure increased, as you felt snot and spit pool together. Then – a loud crack and the blood poured.

“It’s about time I give.”

[truffle-draws-turtles]

CW BLOOD GUNVIOLENCE

I gave Donnie a gun

Pic under the cut ⬇️

Finally a gun

WIP but I can't handle my impulsiveness

[meloncalic]

I conduct fear like electricity A man-made monstrosity

Don't turn out the lights Kiss yourself goodnight, cause there's a killer And he's coming after you

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ Thuringwethil licked her lips, her eyes flashing bright red. "I want your blood."  ❞

⊱ Prompt: Intoxicated sex ⊱ Pairing: Thuringwethil x Ilmarë ⊱ Synopsis: [Valinor falls AU - in which Melkor's forces manage to conquer Valinor and enslave its inhabitants] Thuringwethil accepts Nári's offer to help herself to a prisoner of her choice and finds a certain celestial Maia. ⊱ Featuring: Homoerotic blood drinking, (non-consensual) cunnilingus ⊱ Warnings: Sexual content, captivity, blood, hungry Thuri in a feeding frenzy (the intoxication part of the prompt), non-con

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Finally getting another one for the @tolkienpinupcalendar Dead Dove December out (yes, I know). This one is yet another installment of the Valinor falls AU. I hope you enjoy!

It didn't take long for Thuringwethil to choose her victim. 

Nári's offer had been greatly appreciated and she swiftly found out that her fiery friend hadn't promised too much: In one of the provisional prison cells she found none other than Ilmarë, loosely chained to the wall. Her head hung low, soft rose-coloured tresses of hair obscuring her face, and she seemed despondent, not even looking up when the other Aini approached. 

Thuringwethil took a moment to watch her in silence. Aside from the usual things that caught her attention – the quiet sound of breathing, the subtle pulsing of her target's heart, the warmth of a living body – she felt a strange sense of familiarity as she beheld the celestial Maia, though she was certain she hadn't seen her before – at least not before she woke up in Melkor's care and became part of his folk. Whatever her past had remained lost to her after her time in the Void, and as far as she was concerned, it didn't matter anymore either. 

Silent as a shadow, she entered the cell. It was only then that Ilmarë finally looked up, eyes wide and frightened – she didn't know what to expect from an Úmaia, but assumed it wouldn't be pleasant. Still, within the flash of panic in her gaze, there was also a spark of something else, mirroring what Thuringwethil had felt earlier. 

"Do you remember me?" she asked with mild curiosity and flashed the captive Aini a smile, showing off her sharp, glistening fangs. 

Ilmarë eyed her for a moment, then shook her head. 

"If I knew you at any point, you are no longer the Maia you once were," she declared. Her voice held the echo of glittering stars, though faint in the darkness and marred by fear. "What remains is a creature of shadow in the service of the Enemy." 

Thuringwethil chuckled dryly. She knew such words all too well – monster, beast, abomination. Foul, undead, evil. Countless times had her prey cursed her, yet they still bled the same. Inhaling deeply, her senses were assaulted with the sweetness of Ilmarë's scent, full of light, life and the fire of stars, a most exquisite and delicious meal for a being like her. 

Hunger rose within her, wild and greedy. 

"If that is so, I hope you don't mind skipping the pleasantries in favour of what I have come for," she purred, stalking closer. 

Ilmarë bristled. "If it is information that you seek, I have none to give. I am merely a handmaiden of my queen and a caretaker of stars; I don't know what I could possibly have to give you." 

Thuringwethil licked her lips, her eyes flashing bright red. "I want your blood." 

Her instincts taking over, she was on top of the other Maia before the gasp of shock had even left her lips. She pushed her against the wall of her cell and straddled her hips, her claws leaving marks all over her unblemished skin. Ilmarë tried to defend herself, to push her away, but Thuringwethil was relentless. Her fangs pierced the soft skin of her neck, and she began to drink, moaning in pleasure when blood began to fill her mouth. 

It was just as warm and delicious as she had imagined. The scent alone was enough to drive her mad, and she tightened her grip on her victim as her mind went into a frenzy. Thuringwethil had to hold herself back from biting down harder, a nigh impossible task, but she couldn't let Ilmarë bleed out too fast. She needed her alive for as long as possible so she could keep feeding until her hunger had been sated, until the emptiness inside her had been filled – 

And even so she wanted more. Needed more. 

Blood dripped down her chin, and there was a feral red glow in her eyes when she withdrew for just a moment to admire her prey. What remained of Ilmarë's dress was now stained red, her breath was flat and her struggling had grown weaker – soon she was going to be perfectly docile and completely at her mercy, Thuringwethil noted with a shudder of pleasure. 

She tore her dress with her claws to explore what lay hidden underneath. Had she not been drunk on Ilmarë's blood, she would have admired her beauty a while longer before she marred it with bites and scratches, eagerly licking every fresh wound. Red surrounded her. Her hands, her lips, all warm and wet. 

Yes...

When she parted the celestial Maia's legs, Ilmarë barely managed a whimper and attempted to squeeze them together, but to no avail. Thuringwethil could feel her pulse underneath her fingers, muted and weakened, but still unmistakably there, and traced it all the way up her thighs and to the most vulnerable part of her fána. 

"I wonder if you will bleed just as nicely down there..." 

She bit down, and Ilmarë screamed. The rich taste of her blood mixed with the lovely, alluring scent of her womanhood, and Thuringwethil couldn't resist giving it a few experimental licks. Oh, the things she could do to such a pretty Maia if she wasn't hungry... but then again, she had all the time in the world to enjoy her meal, so why not allow herself a little treat? 

"N-no..." Ilmarë once again tried to escape her hold and close her legs when Thuringwethil's tongue invaded her fána. "Don't..." 

But her pleas and protests were ignored in favour of the sweet nectar pouring out of her shivering form, red mixing with clear liquid as both were mercilessly coaxed out of her until she was twitching on the ground, lightheaded, helpless and barely conscious. 

Thuringwethil wondered whether she would even be able to force an orgasm out of Ilmarë, but as long as she kept bleeding for her it mattered not. She was going to bite, lick and drink to her heart's content, to slake her thirst, to gorge herself on her light and beauty and not stop until every single drop of her essence was hers. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December 2023/January 2024 Contest Submission #1: A Piece of Me Left in You

Words: ca. 4,400 Setting: modern AU Lemon: no CW: some violence, plane crash, minor character death, nudity

Day-0: Fifteen Seconds

It began with a shudder. 

A low-pitched mechanical whine rousing Anna from her mid-flight nap. Raising the shades, a gasp escaped her lips as she observed the sky blackened like dusk. The increasing vibration failed to wake the other passengers, nor did the seatbelt sign - its ominous chime echoing their fates. 

Her eyes widened at ash drifting from the sky, grey clumps streaking past the window. The PA system crackled a pre-recorded message: 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten-” 

A violent lurch evoked gasps of terror. Anna fumbled with the buckle. Right before a muffled thwump reached her ears. Flickering flames reached her eyes a split second before she could comprehend the plane’s engine spewing fire, right before it gave one last mighty belch. 

Then, silence. 

Anna’s limbs flailed as they plummeted like a brick. Her ears popped from the descent, doing nothing to deaden the screaming around the cabin. Frantic commands on the loudspeaker competed with the passengers’ panicking cries in volume. 

Brace! Brace! Brac-! 

In the instant it took for Anna to lean forward, she’s torn from her loosely buckled seat belt by the impact. A tidal wave sucked her through the gaping fuselage, along with whatever was tangled around her wrist. The current dragged her downwards with her flimsy yellow companion as seawater filled her insides. Her face turned blue fighting the unmet urge to breathe. Someone’s hand closed around a fistful of her hair, before yanking the ripcord. The life jacket’s sudden ballooning dragged her to the surface, and her lungs strained as she swallowed mouthfuls of saltwater and air in a desperate bid to survive. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Anna swore, clinging onto the life jacket. Waterlogged eyes unable to comprehend the smouldering devastation. Nostrils burning with smoke. Ears ringing from the noise and pressure. A sudden surge sent her into another flailing panic, only for the figure’s firm hands to pull her away from the swell. 

“Stay still!” the voice commanded, dragging her onto a fuel-soaked foam plank. 

Lungs heaving, Anna gasped a sputtery no no no as the other woman darted back beneath the waves. Seconds ticked by like hours, before she surfaced again, muttering, “Everything’s fucked off to the deep end-” 

Anna stared at her with an open jaw, similar blue eyes dilated in shock, seaweed clumped onto her blonde hair. Chest pulsating with exertion. Two solitary figures bobbing on an ocean littered with burning fuel and shredded wreckage. 

“We’d better leg it before the sharks come,” the other woman pointed towards distant shadows meandering in the water, “I don’t think we can get past the surf but it’s worth a shot.” 

Her words shot through Anna’s deafened ears. 

“Can you swim?” 

Anna shook her head. 

Without warning, she’s hauled off the plank towards what appeared to be a landmass in the distance. A visceral scream of terror vacated Anna as she’s dunked beneath the waves again, but this time she found assurance in the woman’s steady strokes. Clutching onto her belt for dear life, Anna allowed the tides and her swimming to pull her onto the shore. It’s not until she spat out a mouthful of sand, that Anna realised this stranger might’ve saved her life. 

The adrenaline wore off like a steep fall from a cliff, and she slumped face-first onto the black sand. 

Day-1: A Day

The acrid stench of smoke still burned in Anna’s lungs when she woke. Pale sunlight filtered through the sparse jungle canopy, and a distant rumble shook the ground beneath her. Every muscle and joint within her screamed once she tried to get up, and there was that voice again. 

“Slowly, love-” 

Groaning, Anna pinched her forehead, “This isn’t real.” 

“Oh, this is very real,” the english-accented voice insisted, “this is as real as it gets now.” 

Anna turned to the blonde woman, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans. Tending a makeshift fire pit with smouldering coals adding to the smoke in the air. And that awful smell. 

“What is that stench?” Anna complained, sniffling at its source. 

She pointed at the smouldering volcano, rumbling in the distance, “Plane must’ve sucked in all the ash and died. Were you with anyone?” 

Anna’s eyes widened, before she shook her head, “No - how about you?” 

The woman stared at the coals for a good twenty seconds. 

“My parents,” she whispered, tossing a branch into the flames, “My brother, his wife and his children.” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” 

Her voice shook, “Well it’s no use now, innit? They’ve fucked off to the bottom of the ocean!” 

The blonde bolted up, wielding a pole with a sharpened tip. Her eyes were reddened, but there was a gritty determination in her stoic face that lent strength to Anna’s bones. 

“I’m off to score some fish, no idea how long they’re going to take to find us,” she snarled, before pointing the stick at Anna, “there’s a rock pool with fresh water nearby, make yourself useful.” 

As the woman stomped towards the beach, a sudden surge of helplessness welled up within Anna, like she was tethered to the only lifeboat on a sinking ship; about to be severed from her. 

“Wait, wait - I didn’t catch your name!” Anna called out. 

The voice called back, barely audible over the rumbling volcano. 

“Elsa!” 

Limping through the trees with a Garoupa impaled on her makeshift spear, Elsa gawked when she saw Anna weaving a basket on the jungle floor. 

“Wait, what on earth did you do with this place?” 

In the few hours Elsa was away fishing in the surf, Anna had transformed the sparse camping ground. She’d thatched together palm fronds with vine, creating a makeshift canopy. There was fresh water brimming in a broken, hollow log. Still clad in her soaking white dress, Anna sat cross-legged on a bed of palm fronds, while lengths of vine lay coiled beside her. And, what was that fragrant smell?  Her mouth watered at the sight of skewered yams cooking over her coals. The sweetness in the air barely beset the looming stench of sulphur. 

Anna rose to her knees, face clouded in worry. 

“Did you see anyone coming to get us?” Anna asked. 

“It’d be a miracle if I could see anything beyond a mile,” Elsa mumbled, laying her fish to roast, and wringing seawater from her blonde hair. 

“That means they can hardly see us either,” Anna lamented, cupping her head in her hands. The silence after Anna’s words seeped with despair. A snivel reached Elsa’s ears, and it was all it took to soften her heart. 

“C’mon, love, don’t give up,” Elsa whispered, kneeling by Anna’s side, “look at everything you’ve done while I was gone-” 

The uncertainty clouding over Anna’s head sent a tremble through her mudstained hands. She looked at the woman’s blue eyes narrowing with grief. Despite the unfamiliarity, the untamed roughness of their surroundings and the violence they’d endured. The prospect of comfort from another stranger proved too much to resist, and Anna found herself slipping into Elsa’s embrace. Immediately, the sheer comfort of being held swept away all their fears into the ocean. If only for a moment. 

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you,” Anna whispered into the damp fabric of Elsa’s shirt, “for saving me.” 

“You saved yourself,” Elsa retorted, pointing at Anna’s deflated yellow life jacket, torn apart and fashioned into a water carrier, “but I will accept your yams as gratitude.” 

Famished from a day in the sun, Elsa watched as the girl carefully scraped charred bits off the yam and smashed it onto a banana leaf. She mixed in flaked pieces of Elsa’s catch, and the steaming meal presented a tempting sight - even if they were starving. Devoid of cutlery, Elsa couldn’t help but reach out with bare hands. 

“Wait,” Anna quipped, reaching for an empty coconut husk, into which she had ground some berries, “these are pepper berries. I fed some to the squirrels just to be sure.” 

“You had the time for all this and to pick spices?” Elsa wondered, watching her sprinkle pepper on their meal, “I spent half a day out and caught one fish.” 

“Fair trade, since I can’t fish for fuck. Dig in!” 

Accustomed to a lifetime of mild English cuisine - the sudden rush of tropical spice spreading through Elsa’s mouth turned her face red. It’s hot, but at the same time it left her salivating, and it made her want more. 

“Mm, spicy,” Anna commented, quenching her lips with coconut water, straight from a smashed-in husk. She handed the coconut to Elsa, and in that brief second, their fingertips touched. Their eyes met, reddened lips revealing the exact same unspoken words between two strangers, caught by sudden adversity. 

What would I do without you? 

Day-2: Thirty minutes

“We’d better keep an eye on that thing,” Anna whimpered, eyes lofted toward the smoking volcano in the distance. Even from the beach, they saw the craggy black summit spewing flames and spreading its soot across the sky. 

“I am keeping an eye on it,” Elsa remarked, “the only question is - what happens when Mount Karen inevitably explodes and rains burning lava on us?” 

“Assuming they don’t come for us, we’d have to get off this island in a hurry then,” Anna said, her voice trailing off as the realisation dawned upon her: only one of them could swim. 

“Well, even if we made it past the surf, what then? If the volcano doesn’t finish us off, the sharks will.” 

Anna’s voice broke under the strain, her words sputtering quicker and quicker, “I’d rather get mauled then roasted. Besides, there’s probably a better chance of getting rescued from the sea than a burning island-” 

Alarmed by the growing intensity of her voice, Elsa spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“I’m not leaving without you, Anna.” 

Shaking her head, Anna found enough presence of mind to mutter, “Don’t do this, I can’t ask anything more of you.” 

“But I can,” Elsa smirked, cradling Anna’s elbow, “And right now I’m asking you to learn how to swim. At least you’ll stand a chance against the sharks.” 

Without waiting, Elsa motioned for Anna to follow her to the waterline. The girl took a few cautious steps into the tide, its calm coolness threatening to expunge what little she ate. She shut her eyes, and the memory of seawater entering her lungs stole all the colour from her face. 

“What, now?”  

“Yes, now,” Elsa ordered, unbuttoning her clothes and draping them upon some driftwood, “C’mon, love. Just thirty minutes, and we can call it a day.” 

Seeking a distraction, Anna’s attention fell upon the pale, radiant skin undressed before her. Blood rushed back to Anna’s face as her eyes roved along Elsa’s curves. Black sports bra and panties. Toned muscles hinting her past life as a university swimmer. She bit on her lip as thoughts surfaced in her mind, “D-do I have to take off my clothes too?” 

“Unless you want to end up soaking wet again.” 

Anna hesitated, before pulling her dress over her head and laying it next to Elsa’s clothes. The sight of her naked, lithe figure didn’t go unnoticed. Elsa’s glance dipped, following the unbroken trail of freckles running down her collarbone and along the sides of her breasts. 

“Staring is rude,” Anna sneered, drawing Elsa’s attention back to her eyes, “I have a husband back home, you know-” 

Fishes swam around their ankles as they stood knee-deep in the water. Elsa frowned, trying to shake off that simmering feeling in her chest, “W-why aren’t you wearing a bra?” 

“Where’d you think I got the wire to make your fish hooks?” 

“Right.” 

“Right, you have thirty minutes, then.” 

Day-4: An hour

That was how long they took in a chorus of frenzied squealing and scurrying about before Elsa finally caught that wild chicken. 

“No, no wait!” Elsa shrieked, as the squawking bird flapped feathers all over them, “What do I do with this thing now?” 

Giggling at Elsa’s exasperated face, Anna yelped, “Kill it!”

“I don’t know how to kill a chicken!” 

Stepping forward, Anna ended its life with a swift tug at its neck, and the bird flopped dead in her arms. 

“Oh my god,” Elsa panted, heaving from the exertion, “that took us way too long.” 

“At least we don’t have to worry about dinner today-” 

Having ventured far inland pursuing the chicken, the sun had sunk over the ash-draped horizon when they reached the beach. Elsa watched closely as Anna methodically stripped its feathers and drained it for roasting. She took care to stud clove buds all around the meagre bird, and stuffed its end with a handful of floral-smelling spices. As the bird cooked over coals, the smouldering fragrance was like walking into a perfumery, a tea house, and a barbeque - all together. 

Looking up from tending the fire, Anna remarked, “Sky looks like it’s clearing.” 

A few rays of golden sunset peeked through the soot-lined clouds, but Elsa’s eyes were fixed on the girl crouched before her. Without realising it, she’d completely forgotten her usual routine of scanning the horizon endlessly for ships and planes. For the first time in four days. 

“Where’d you learn all this?” Elsa asked. 

“Grew up on a farm in Texas,” Anna answered, portioning the chicken with leftover fish and yams, “I learnt about spices from a college botany course.” 

Elsa stared at her smoky-charred meal wrapped in a banana leaf. She couldn’t resist stuffing her face the moment the smell of roasted meat hit her. A medley of flavours flooded her mouth. At the tip of her tongue, she detected Cardamom, Clove, a hint of Anise and copious amounts of pepper. More fragrant than spicy, the taste sent her head into a spin. 

“I think I like this blend better than yesterday’s,” Anna remarked, chicken juices running down her hands. 

“And I could hardly care, after everything you’ve done for me so far-” Elsa scoffed. 

“For us.” 

Elsa turned to the girl, red hair fluttering with the sea breeze and gleaming in the dim sunlight. Her heart clenched when she saw Anna wipe a tongue over her lips, but told herself it was just the spice’s heat. The sky darkened again. Anna paused her chewing. The flickering flames lent an otherworldly glow to the girl’s freckled features, and Elsa found herself drawn deeper into the unusual silence which had befallen her. Alarmed by the sudden tear trickling down Anna’s cheek, Elsa shifted closer, placing an arm around her. 

“No, no it’s alright, they’ll come get us soon-” 

“It’s not that,” Anna argued, curling her fingers into Elsa’s, “oh god, it’s so stupid, I’m going to sound like an idiot if I say another word.” 

She could feel the quickening throb of Anna’s pulse in her palm. Her own heart raced. Burying her face into Anna’s hair, she inhaled the scent of her copper hair, a mix of the sea they’d been forced into, and the spice that knit them together. Squeezing Anna’s hand tight, Elsa searched her mind for something that could coax more words out of Anna. 

“We might be dead tomorrow anyway, so you might as well-” 

Anna looked over her shoulder at the Volcano, which had fallen silent. Her lips trembled, words perched on the precipice. 

“I’m stuck on an island, god-knows-where, no hope of rescue,” Anna sighed, wiping her cheeks, “but I haven’t been this happy in a long while.” 

The words flew through Elsa’s ears as she pondered a response, before realising she really knew nothing about this girl. 

A deep breath, before Anna confessed, “I discovered my husband cheating on me a month ago-” 

“Oh my god, Anna.” 

“It sounds so petty and trivial, telling this to someone who’s lost her family-” 

Anna’s words brewed a potent mix of grief, empathy, and desire, manifesting as a thumping noise behind Elsa’s ears. She brought the girl’s fingers to her lips, and kissed them, savouring the taste of spice on her skin. 

“It’s not until you’ve lost everything, that you’re free to do anything.” 

Day-6: A Week

A muffled boom jolted Anna awake. Lurching upright, she snapped her eyes to the Volcano’s peak spurting glowing lava upon its slopes, before resuming its smouldering fury. Seconds ticked by as she watched in the dawn silence, as though the slightest breath would trigger an eruption. 

“Mount Karen looks grumpy today,” Anna whispered towards Elsa’s sleeping spot. 

Her heart sank at the silence answering her. 

“Elsa?” 

A feeble whine. Before Anna lurched over, outstretched arm falling upon the shadowy mound of Elsa’s sleeping body. She gasped as it came away with cold sweat. 

“Oh my god, Elsa,” Anna shrieked, pressing a palm to her forehead, burning like the volcano.

She strained to hear the murmuring, before making out the words, “I don’t feel so good today-”. 

Fumbling with a coconut shell, Anna spilled water on herself as she brought the husk to Elsa’s lips. A groan escaped her as she struggled to sit upright. 

“I got stung by an urchin while fishing,” Elsa whimpered, in between sips of coconut water, “felt like shit but I thought I’d get better-” 

“You should’ve told me,” Anna chided, cradling Elsa’s warm head to her bosom. 

“What good would that’ve done?” Elsa whined, “I’m so terribly sorry, Anna. But y-you’ll probably have to take up fishing today.” 

In an instant, all the buried fears within Anna’s chest boiled over. The fear of being stuck alone; or even worse, the fear of losing this woman - the singular source of comfort and life and hope to make it out. It all crashed upon her head. Instead of tears, this time - there was only a fierce determination to set things right. 

“Wait, just wait, I’ll be back-” Anna assured, before scampering into the dawn mist. Hours crawled by as she combed her memory and the forest floor for anything that could alleviate Elsa’s illness. All the while circling back repeatedly to ensure Elsa hadn’t passed out. 

“Stop, please stop,” Elsa complained, powerless to stop Anna from forcing down another mouthful of coconut water, “Stop whatever you’re doing, I’ll be fine.” 

Despite her frail pleading, Anna refused to let up her intense search, until the sun was high in the sky - and the volcano resumed its grumpy fireworks. 

“I knew this tea grew wild in the Pacific,” Anna muttered, breaking ginger roots into a coconut set upon coals, already simmering with a floral fragrance. She sprinkled more buds, before stirring the brew, bringing to life a spicy, woody scent. Elsa’s eyes widened at the smell. She shifted closer, inhaling the steam, and letting the aroma spread across every aching muscle in her body. 

“Drink while it’s warm,” Anna whispered, wrapping a leaf around the husk. It only took a sip for the spicy, soothing warmth to fill her insides, touching her every pore with a golden glow. 

“That’s some good stuff,” Elsa murmured, ginger tingling on her tongue, “try some-” 

“No, it’s meant to help you get well,” Anna cooed, pressing a damp hand to Elsa’s head. 

Her bones still ached with fire, but she pulled Anna’s palm against her cheek. Rough, calloused skin rubbing against the pale smoothness of her own. She blinked once, trying to suppress the aching hole in her heart this girl so easily filled. 

“M’love, I feel better already.” 

Day-7: An Eternity

“Elsa, Elsa! Wake up! Now!” Anna screamed, shaking Elsa awake. Sweat bathed Anna’s face as a forest fire swept towards them like a typhoon, driven by the morning breeze. Ash and burning twigs rained down, and a towering wall of flame blazed around them, threatening to cut them off from the sea. 

“What-” Elsa murmured, watery eyes unable to comprehend the inferno. Unwilling to wait for an answer, Anna yanked her upright, hauling the woman onto her feet. They took two steps before tripping over onto the blackened jungle floor. 

“C’mon!” Anna shrieked. Driven wild by the maddening fear of losing Elsa, she scooped her into her arms. Staggering with a warm body, Anna made a bare-footed dash through the undergrowth, barely reaching the tree line before her strength gave out. As she dropped Elsa on the sand, Anna turned and recoiled from the sight of Mount Karen’s slopes scrawled cherry red with lava, spewing flaming brimstone on the jungle. 

A sputtering noise caught her attention. She took a few seconds to comprehend something as alien as a helicopter hovering over the beach. 

“Hey! Hey!” Anna screamed, hoarse voice drowned by the blades and the raging inferno. She started hopping and waving her hands, white billowing dress sticking out before the smouldering carnage. A rescuer descended from a rope, holding out a harness. 

“No, no! There’s another woman, she needs out now!” Anna insisted, shielding her eyes against the downdraft blowing sand everywhere. 

“We can only fly one person at a time, we’ll come back for you-” 

Without hesitation, Anna directed him to Elsa’s body, still mumbling incoherently. In the seconds it took to hitch her up, Elsa stirred awake, reaching for Anna. Amidst the maelstrom of sand, smoke, ash and fire, their fingers found one another. 

“Don’t go,” Elsa pleaded, right before the helicopter whisked her away, tearing apart the fragile bond they’d found in catastrophe, and the chance connection of two distant souls. Hands clasped together, Anna watched as Elsa’s body disappeared into the horizon, leaving a void in her heart, and the burgeoning doubt if she’d ever see that blessed Englishwoman again. 

Epilogue: A Year

The bland meal of fish and chips tasted like nothing in Anna’s mouth, and she resisted the urge to douse it with more malt vinegar. Still, she feigned a smile when the shopkeeper cleared her plate. 

“Hope your meal was fine, love.”

“It’s lovely, thanks,” Anna lied, pointing across the street, “which house is she at again?” 

“Number seven. You can’t miss it, there’s a lavender bush out the front.” 

She thanked him, pausing at the door when he mumbled, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 

Stepping outside, Anna pulled up a scarf as wind bit into her face. It’s a long walk beneath the darkened sky, and she flinched each time thunder rumbled. But eventually she’s standing before the lavender bush with her heart in her throat; Dr E. Williams neatly engraved in gold on a red letter box. A deep breath, and her eyes fluttered shut, before she retrieved a box from her satchel and laid it at the doorstep of the brick townhouse. She’d barely turned to leave when a voice stopped her. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Anna froze at the sight of Elsa approaching, stethoscope peeking beneath her grey coat, paper bag filled with groceries. Dark rimmed glasses. Her blonde hair had been tied back into a bun, and she looked a year younger than before. The sight spilled all the words of the English language from Anna’s brain. 

“I…I came to leave you a gift-” 

“No!” Elsa exclaimed, voice crackling with fury. Her jaw clenched with rage, “You don’t get to do this to-” 

“I’m sorry, ok?” Anna pleaded, raising her hands, “I know you’re the private sort, you’ve never granted any interviews, just disappeared off the planet and moved on, while I’m just - look, I just don’t want to forget what you did for us alright?” 

Elsa’s gaze softened, she looked at the cobblestone pavement, waiting for Anna to continue. 

“And this sounds terribly selfish, but I don’t want you to forget me either.” 

“It’s not that,” Elsa interrupted, hefting groceries in her arm, “I just - wait, can we talk inside? It’s freezing.” 

The fragrance struck Anna the second she stepped into Elsa’s modest apartment. Immediately, she traced the source to a collection of tiny bowls on her mantlepiece, each filled with clove, anise, pepper, cardamon - all spices she’d used on the island. Another picture frame mounted scraps of her life jacket, fish hooks, the torn hem of Anna’s white dress she’d used to bandage her wounds. Above that was a photograph of the iconic moment they reunited on the Oprah show, and a Daily Mirror tabloid cover with the gaudy headline: 

FREAK AIR CRASH DUO ESCAPE FROM HELL ISLAND. “IT WAS BLOODY AWFUL” - SAYS YORKSHIRE NATIVE. 

Worse still, covering the walls were portraits of Elsa’s parents, her nephew’s watercolour paintings, photos of her brother and herself as children holidaying. The crash robbed more from Elsa than Anna could imagine. 

“I hope you understand,” Elsa commented, watching Anna’s eyes rove the walls, “after all the funerals and lawyers and moving away, I tried so hard to forget everything that’s happened. After a year of trying I realised it was impossible. So I gave up trying to forget. And I focused on remembering.”

Anna turned to see Elsa’s lips shuddering, trying to hold back the tears. The woman came within a foot of her. 

“I can’t forget,” Elsa’s voice shook, chest heaving beneath her white blouse, “I can’t forget someone like you.”

“Oh my god, Elsa, you should’ve said something-”

“What was I going to say?” Elsa complained, rifling a hand over her hair, “You seemed fine with all the interviews and book deals and lectures and-” 

“What do you think I was trying to do?” Anna argued back, “All these months I felt I left a part of myself on that island. A piece of my heart that could never be mended no matter how much I tried to help other people with my experiences. What I was really missing, was-”

“-You.” 

The gravity of her confession sent Anna tiptoeing forward and crushing her lips into Elsa’s. She staggered backwards beneath Anna’s weight, colliding with the kitchen table and crushing Anna’s gift packaging, revealing a humble spice rack, with jars of the same spices on her mantlepiece. Lost in the urgency, Elsa’s hands toppled a jar, spilling ginger powder upon her tear-stained fingers. 

Shaking from venting her pent-up desire, Anna cupped Elsa’s face in her hands, heart clenching from the utter longing filling her eyes. The woman touched a quivering finger to Anna’s lips, before surrendering to her desires and leaning in once again. 

Amidst the heat of their kiss, and the gentle breaths on each other’s spice-lined lips, Elsa heard Anna whisper. 

“I don’t think I could ever forget you either.”