#to react so hostile and yell and cry and whatever

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[yuucandoit]

YyyyyyY

@chaoticgremlinbrainspace

Writing this out to see where any gaps are / unbelievable / in need of alteration sequences. Easier to map it if it's written out vs just being blindly written / having a skeleton outline / thoughts in my head. Whimsy / self indulgence, but that is difficult for meee so. If I can make it make sense as much as possible...

Many little romances. Polyamory etc etc. Currently working with: Riddle/Yuu, Jack/Yuu/Jade, (idk if Jack/Riddle will be a thing but a crush would be easy on Jack's end at least so maybe), Jamil/Ruggie, Kalim/Neige, various OC / OC (my favorite is the mermaid / pirate witch I'm very fond of them), onesided Floyd/Riddle and Jamil/Azul hinted at (most likely the Floyd/Riddle moreso. I don't want it to be prominent, I just feel like they're both crushes/veer on that in interaction that are so constant they are canon in my heart. Slight Floyd/Azul that might become more prominent at the moment it's mostly Floyd's reactions to slights against Azul and various thing, the mostly implied love triangle between Jade/Azul and Jade/Yuu that doesn't exist and Yuu probably doesn't actually think it exists, he just has other hangups he can't figure out the cause of for a long time . It's more like 'quit your job and come work at my superior ghost-themed restaurant where you would fit perfectly and i'll let you make whatever mushroom dishes you want'

Octario became way more important than initially planned because Azul's contract triggered Yuu's trauma..

Prologue

Sep 3rd

Entrance Ceremony

-Leona, Rook, Jack, Riddle, Crowley, Grim

A young man wakes up in a coffin.

After the coffin is opened by Grim, he pretends to be asleep until Crowley comes in at Grim's complaints and takes Grim out to throw him out of the school

Crowley comes back as Yuu is searching around the room / brandishing a candelabra

He attacks, the other students show up, he starts knocking candelabras over to set the curtains on fire and try to set up a distraction to escape

Everyone is wondering what is up with this guy attacking the headmage, setting the school on fire day 0

Rook, Leona, and Jack have to go get him before he runs off the side of a cliff.

Jack most important character here probably, sees catching Yuu after he flees the entrance ceremony as a chance to make an impression on Leona. Ends up making an impression on Yuu that influences how he sees the rest of the school (Rook assigning the calm first year to try and help the panicking first year). (Bad set up for Yuu that only gets worse with Jade's betrayal of his friendship shutting down what little progress he had made in trusting others)

Leona talks to Yuu a bit... Yuu threatens to blind him with a stick if he comes too close. Leona directs the others to try and capture him while they're running after him etc etc tries yelling at Yuu to slow down while he's frantically running.. wherever. Yuu is very fast, slips from their grasp a couple times

Rook saves Yuu as he's about to fall off into the gulch, Yuu continues running until he finally stops at a large tree, he starts crying upon the realization he doesn't know where he's running or who he's looking for.

Running away, being brought back, arguing (Riddle assuming he ran to avoid punishment for breaking Queen's Rule # 1232312 that Yuu has never heard about before even what) until Crowley sends the others on their way and talks to Yuu. Probably some magical influence Yuu calming down, but the bird thing helps

Ramshackle, Grim sneaks in or is let in. Hostile meeting, but come to some sort of understanding. Yuu is moved by his dream to become a powerful mage, despite everything. He feels like maybe, lacking anything else to go off, his purpose in being there is to support Grim. And hopefully can help burn anyone who may bother Yuu

Yuu doesn't react to / ignores the ghosts and goes upstairs, then has to come back down shortly after because Grim starts screaming / trying to burn the dorm down because the ghosts are bullying him

Crowley shows up, Yuu convinces him to agree to a week trial period for Grim to prove himself after lying about Grim saving him from the ghosts while not damaging anything (Yuu shoved any of the burnt items in a closet) / coming to NRC specifically to be taught at Crowley's school. Crowley tells him he can't allow a non-student to stay at NRC and Yuu wishes Grim luck before leaving the dorm to just.. wander off into the night.

Crowley convinces him to work for him while he tries to find a way back home - calls him out on not knowing where he is / offers to let Yuu stay if he works for him like he suggested to Grim.

Yuu argues Grim is getting the better reward in that case, being allowed admission to the school if he does well, as well as the opportunity of work / lodgings (Crowley doesn't really plan to allow a monster to go to NRC), while Yuu will only be given two things ... So he requests that Crowley agree to a yet undiscovered 3rd thing at some point in the future. He's annoying and plays up Crowley's generosity / kindness to try and convince him. Crowley says he is not genie, but ultimately agrees to a point

Transition to Dark Mirror later at night despite being told not to wander. Dark Mirror has more things to say on the quality of Yuu's soul, Yuu threatens to smash it. Post Dark Mirror breakdown and then to -

Ghosts ? Probably not yet, just the 3 at Ramshackle. He's not at the point of wandering at night / avoiding sleep.

Maybe the yew tree under the moonlight before returning to the dorm. Or the lake. but he's probably more drawn to the tree considering he took his name from it

----

Janitor for a few weeks

Ghosts, Jade, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Jas, Bartholomew, Noro, Richie, Sam, probably Trein in the library at some point

ghosts - hitchhiking ghosts probably, Scarlet, Daisy, Pensri, etc 2nd week

Yuu and Grim get a small tour the next day, pause at Sam's Mystery Shop when Sam calls Crowley back to talk to him. Yuu probably sees some shadows at this point -combination between Peter Pan / PatF - but no real interaction

Wake up, run, eat, clean, research, maintain Grim, avoid students

- repetitive but that's good (for Yuu, not Grim) because it's mind-numbing and Yuu can throw himself into just cleaning / attempts to focus on continuous motions while not making contact with others / avoid everyone (no point socializing/pursuing relationships when he'll be leaving and he's taking Jack's advice about keeping his wits about him around the others to heart) / keep Grim distracted with questions about his grandiose ideals/get in the way if anyone does try to talk to them (Ace) Try to follow what must? be his purpose there to help Grim start on his journey to greatness until Crowley sends him home soon

Ramshackle probably asleep - either wakes up after Jas or waits until book 3 when remodeling / other ghosts start frequenting it

Maybe runs into Jack, if at least at a distance. Does run into Jade - tries to ignore him at first but he's annoying and they cross paths often enough he just allows him to talk at him by probably the 3rd meeting

After first week turns to 2nd week, starts to feel antsy and gets into a fight when students break into Ramshackle / break things even more since he's 'got to clean it' until he snaps, Jas panics at the sight of his own blood (Hook)

Probably called into Crowley's office, unsure if he would have already been frequenting it to ask questions or if he hides in the library by himself - magical books are difficult / magical items in general that are not haunted are difficult.

Subconsciously tries to get closer to Crowley, feels more at ease around him as an authority figure / adult bird, is convincing himself to trust him in order to try and soothe his anxieties about being trapped somewhere he doesn't understand. Wants to believe he will help him / he will soon go back home / thing will make sense if he doesn't lose faith

More significant prologue events here.

Just... do it. It will go one way or the other

Ace / Yuu get into a fight maybe 🤷‍♂️ then Grim fires the statue

Yuu furious at Ace for ruining Grim's difficultly maintained streak of good behavior - Grim crying now Crowley will never let him be a student. Laughter towards the possibility of Grim joining the school... so yea Yuu is probably pretty mad...

Whatever the Ace and Deuce thing in the manga is probably good - Grim already there, but introduces Deuce earlier

Chase after Ace for his part of the punishment and end up being spoken down to by Riddle - Cater and Trey in attendance but not talkative - Cater maybe. Riddle not impressed by what he has heard of Yuu's actions so far, but he's just a janitor so it's not that egregious/insulting to him, yet

Chandelier ~ ~ ~ shadows might show up here potentially. Scare Grim into flailing around / breaking the chandelier before Deuce has a chance to throw anyone..

~ monster fight. Yuu is mad at Ace and might just suggest they sacrifice him to the monster and steal the stone while it's distracted. 3/4 agree Ace sucks so why not ? But Ace won't be bait, hardly makes sense for a magical person to do it and besides, Yuu is speedy!

Yuu... might end up separated from Ace, Deuce, and Grim and end up making contact with the monster but exact details are blurry. Probably like... rocks collapse and Ace, Deuce, and Grim have to dig Yuu out. 'Monster taken out', Yuu got the magestone yaaay

Wow, Crowley is so impressed, good job!

Admission to the school of kids Yuu has been trying to avoid is not what he requested for his 3rd thing! He would much rather self-study if he's meant to be a student, but Crowley says he has to attend classes

Somewhere around here Yuu agrees to join the Mountain Lovers Club. Maybe one of his first actions as a student - he did not really want to be a student, but it is the only way Grim is permitted. Jade will be happy, at least. Yuu was probably unofficially part of the club before since he was a janitor and could not attend as a student. They're breaking the 'Grim and Yuu have to attend the same club' rule but Grim will get what he wants in book 3, sooo his indecisiveness is fine. If Yuu is going to be out roaming the island, he may as well benefit from Jade's survival / plant / nature experience at the same time. Two birds

Spends most free time studying/researching/exploring in some capacity

Mushroom issue because it looked yummy. Yuu is immune to poison, though, out here eating oleander. Meets Floyd and Azul, but he probably won't register them much

Book 1

Like.. Sep 24th, which is fine. Book 2 can still start in October and gives less time for Yuu to endear himself to anyone but teachers who would have seen him studying in the library (minus the fighting, so he's probably still not that well regarded. At least Jade thinks he's amusing, Deuce thinks he's diligent but on a bad path / kind of like him etc)

3rd Week In. Yuu and Grim are suffering, they've missed nearly an entire month to start their student life. Yuu has been studying Twisted Wonderland in hopes some memories would surface, so maybe that's something. anyways

Similar opening, Ace and Yuu are not terribly close but he's not terribly close with anyone else in any other dorm either~ so it's still where he goes. Ace and Yuu should at least have a kind of ... brotherhood forged in battle kind of thing from the monster fight

~~~~ whatever bad mouthing that keeps the collar on Ace when Riddle had planned to take it off.

Riddle insulting Yuu and Grim, and Crowley's decision to allow them to enroll, so Yuu is subtly rude back/calls out Riddle for acting as though he would know better as a 2nd year magic student than the headmage who has been running the school for longer than Riddle has been alive.

Everything fairly light / implied ---

-Taking the altercation with Deuce and the Savanaclaw students from the novel instead, so Leona can show up and get uncomfortably close to Yuu in the interest of smelling for magic - who yanks his ears in retaliation and Ruggie has to intervene for both Deuce and Yuu

Yuu may also not know that the eggs weren't gonna hatch, so he and Deuce both seem a bit stupid to Trey (and Ace). Yuu is not particularly sad about the potentially dead chicks, but Deuce is upset and he doesn't seem like a bad person

Yuu gets a cool dagger / keeps it hidden on himself during the trip to Sam's shop. Layaway

Yuu gets very excited after they start making the tart! because he remembers things about cooking, the knowledge of blanching vs roasting chestnuts seemingly just flowing from him. He assumes this must mean his memories are at the point they will start returning, feels the lightest he has since waking up with no memories and joyously participates in making the Mont Blanc tart. Grim is very surprised considering Yuu is typically not very excited about anything, it is a nice change

---until the point that he's about to have the tart thrown away which upsets both Grim and Yuu

Yuu ends up collared for retrieving the tart before it can be tossed / insulting Riddle / refusing to unhand the tart / leaves before Riddle can demand him thrown out

Misses Chenya, too angry to stop / feeling really nauseous / having trouble breathing. He hates the collar and is having an incredibly difficult time maintaining his composure. He doesn't understand the turn of events, feels foolish for letting his guard down in such a way. The collar being such a miserable experience makes him feel he's being punished for his stupidity.

Yuu's small amount of returned memories help combat some of the anger/grief, but not entirely.

Do not learn Riddle's backstory, learn Riddle's favorite foods.

Nothing dangerous or depressing here. Riddle has a nice dinner in the interest of accepting an apology/Yuu requesting advice from an upperclassman, until Yuu and Ace start making buzzer noises at him or whatever for not following rules they made up (the list of rules is an acrostic poem insulting Riddle, makes less sense than the 810 Queen Rules, and one is in Latin), Yuu steals Ace from Heartslabyul - Ace wasn't planning on leaving Heartslabyul but the idea of a duel doesn't come up, (yet ?) and Yuu told Riddle Ace was part of Ramshackle and Ace was like ..yea sure I guess, so while he's still officially in Heartslabyul on paper, he will stay at Ramshackle. Riddle too mad to try and convince him otherwise in any way that isn't simply incoherent growling, but does have to take the collar off at this point

Yuu starts his student poaching

Deuce later

Grim assigns himself housewarden, Yuu can be a vice

Amusing to the other housewardens until Yuu is allowed to attend meetings (Grim is allowed, he doesn't wanna wake up early for them / thinks it's boring)

-sorry to trey and chenya

Yuu picks up a book about Queendom of Roses / the Queen's Rules because he needs to understand the rules to break them / wants to hate more effectively

Yuu starts cooking a lot, realizing his memories were triggered by food/culinary - which may be a clue to his life - and finding it a good form of expression / ties in with his research. Presumably any land in Twisted Wonderland he is from, the food will stand out that much more ?

Approaches the ghost chefs for advice / mentorship. Learns about ghost gastronomy and how it differs to the tastes of the living. Enjoys Potions class and so gets into that at some point. Tries making little potion infused candies etc etc since it's something he can actually do at the magic school. Grim grabs the little calm / concentration potion infused candies out of Yuu's hands (those were for Yuu's calm school days 🙃) without bothering to ask what Yuu made them with

Riddle overblot postponed but he's not a fan of Yuu ( -- on Sims social interaction or whatever)

...........................................................................................................................

[theoceanoasis]

Hot Rod out with his and Soundwave's sparkling, with some bots trying to harass him but Hot Rod stands up for himself! I would love to see Roddy be certain of his relationship and love with Soundwave.

"Come on little one we have some shopping that needs to be done."

His sparkling cooed and he smiled, strapping him into his stroller. He walked around enjoying the nice day, as he shopped for what they needed. Wanting to make something special for dinner.

After he finished shopping. He decided to stop at a park and hang out. Let his sparkling get some sun. He wasn't walking yet but he was starting to crawl.

He sat on a bench watching as people enjoyed the nice weather. His sparkling was playing with a toy in his stroller and looked adorable. He thought about taking a picture for Soundwave. When he was approached by a group of Autobots he'd never met before.

"Look what we have here."

One of them sneered looking at him in disgust.

"A traitorous Autobot who's become a Decepticons whore."

He stood up getting between the the hostile party and his sparkling. Worried they'd hurt his little one.

"Leave us alone."

He glared showing off his outlier in hopes they'd leave.

"Shut up whore. Who do you think you are making demands to us?"

One of them shoved him to the ground and his sparkling cried in fear. Which immediately drew their attention.

"Look at that freak or nature."

One of them taunted in disgust and he felt tears in his optics, as he tried to stand. Only to be kicked onto the floor. His spoiler being bent in the process.

"The child of a traitorous Autobot and a vile Decepticon."

"I feel bad for the little one. His sire obviously doesn't love him since he's a Decepticon and they don't love anyone. Not even their whores."

All three of them laughed and he trembled with rage.

"Shut up you don't know anything about us. Soundwave is my Conjunx something you'll never have. Just like you'll never understand the love we share. Too stuck in your prejudice."

He tried to stand again and they slapped him to the floor. Enraged at his disobedience.

"Love? What you have is wrong."

One of them spat on him.

"Autobots and Decepticons do not mix. They are filthy, vile, lowly, scum, who deserve to rot in prison."

He shook his head. His whole body in pain as they beat him. Not that he noticed too busy trying to keep them away from his sparkling, by having them focus on him. He could take a beating his sparkling could not.

"No they are not. The war is over and we are at peace. Factions don't matter. If every Decepticon belonged in prison so does every Autobot because we are just as responsible for the war."

"How dare you. We are nothing like them."

They glared acting as though they were superior. Even though they were beating a carrier in from of his crying sparkling. He felt his spark hurt every time he heard his cry but there was nothing he could do.

"Decepticons can't be trusted. How do you know Soundwave won't cheat on you?"

His arms shook as he tried to pull himself from the ground.

"Because I trust him and I know the kind of person he is. Soundwave is loyal to me and our family. He would never betray me like that."

He glared hating how they talked about his mate. When they knew nothing about him. They were too blind to see the real him who was an amazing Conjunx and sire.

One of them stomped on his back. Pressing their foot down to stop him from getting up.

"Whatever you're just an idiot."

His sparkling continued to cry in fear and they turned towards him looking annoyed.

"Shut that thing up already. It's just as annoying as his carrier."

One of them reached for his sparkling and he immediately reacted. Shoving the person off him. He stood up lunging for the Autobot trying to grab his sparkling. Grabbing their arm he practically ripped it out of it's socket.

"Get away from him!"

He yelled going into protective carrier mode. Despite his numerous injuries.

"I don't care what you think of me because your opinion doesn't matter, but don't you dare come near my sparkling again or I will kill you."

He took a step forward. This time lighting himself on fire and burning them slightly in retaliation. Terrified and in pain they quickly ran away. Knowing he wasn't kidding and would end them if they hurt his little one.

Turning away from them he picked his sparkling up and held him close. Trying his best to soothe him.

"It's okay carrier is here. I'll never let anyone hurt you."

He kissed his sparklings forehead and held him close. Carrying him back home where it was safe.

[fenmere]

Huh.

Maybe it might be a cool thing for some systems to share our coming out stories.

Though, it'd be scary to do so here online, because it's opening us all up to being judged by fakeclaimers and creating whole new friteria by which to harrass and ridicule pluralities.

But, whatever kind of systems you're talking about, there are so many cultures and subcultures in this world, all of them having varying degrees of prejudiced beliefs about plurality, that our coming out stories are going to be all different from each other.

And that fear of being attacked for sharing them is suppressing community wisdom! Information we all need to know and pass around.

If you have DID bad enough that you need accommodations for it, how do you ask your family or the people you live with to help you with those accommodations' for instance?

Anyway, when we discovered we were plural, it was because we were experiencing so many blackouts, fugue states, changes in wants, needs, and emotional reactions, and full on amnesia that it destroyed both our marriage and our career.

We had to move back in with our parents at 41 years old, and we were having autistic meltdowns and PTSD attacks and we couldn't trust ourselves, but we were working on it.

And we decided that it was important for us to give our parents the courtesy of knowing what might happen and how best to deal with it for the safety of both us and them.

But before we could even figure out how to present that to them, our dad came home one day and asked us some casual questions, and we couldn't stop saying "we" and "us". We couldn't mask it!

So we ended up trying to explain it to our parents that day and it went BADLY.

Our dad acted embarrassed and skeptical, and our mom got angry and basically accused us of making up the problem and said that if we had such a major psychological disorder that we should be in a hospital, not their house.

We managed to talk them down by talking about what our behavior was really like (or desperately half yelling about it and crying) and basically agreeing not to bring the subject up again. And we finished moving back in with them.

It took a year of masking around them, taking care of ourselves, venting to our friends, spending a couple nights in a hotel (basically running away from home in our FORTIES to take a break and consider our alternatives) for our parents to come around and start supporting us as a system.

Our mom ended up doing some reading on her own, because she does that. And she really thought hard about it. And she watched our behavior aroundvthe house while we lived with them. And ended up coming back to us and telling us what she thought of plurality then and how best to support plural systems, and it was like she'd read the same best literature about it we had. She told us all the things we had wanted to tell her, in the wording we would have used.

Now we joke about our plurality with our parents over games of cards and dinner when we visit.

Conversely. Whenever we come out as plural to a friend or strangers it goes like this:

"Yeah. I'm actually a we. We're plural. There are a lot of us in here."

"Oh, rad! That makes sense actually. Neat. You know? I know another plurality. They're interesting."

Like, consistently. Every time. We've lodt count.

But, like, that's us in the Pacific Northwest of the U.S. with our relative OK family who were GREAT about us being transgender, and our network of queer friends.

But a different system in, say, Tennessee, with a different relationship with their family, is going to have a really different experience.

But, we suspect thrre will still be a common thread or theme.

People who think they have some inestment of power in your life, such as parents, bosses, doctors, and classes of people who have privilege over you (cishet white men in relation to a woman or enby of color, for example) are going to be more likely to react with initial hostility.

Your plurality will represent two things yo them:

1. A disruption of the order that their social power is built upon.

2. A weakness of yours they can exploit.

And, they might absolutely end up being a cool person and accept you and support you, but there's a higher chance that they won't.

Whereas a peer, or an absolute stranger of a social standing closer to yours, with no investment in your life, is more likely to be curious and polite about it.

This will vary dramatically, depending on how much pluralphobia is actively reaching the broader public in your area. What kind of movies have been playing, news stories published. Talk radio episodes covering the matter. Who in your area listens to people on TikTok. That sort of thing.

Anyway, your mileage is going to vary a lot, but these kinds of things can help you guage how to approach coming out to different people, or whether or not to even try.

Sometimes, it can't be helped, though.

And definitely, being armed with brochures and links to good articles about plurality can help when presenting it to otherwise reasonable people who just might not know much about it.

Anyway, after bringing our parents around, we spent some time writing up a long and careful email with links to some decent medical papers and DID support web pages, and then sent that cc'ed to our entire extended family. Including our two asshole bigoted uncles who were being transphobic to us, because by then we had a sense that the rest of our family would back us up.

It worked out at that point.

It's part luck for us, but also we did have to spend a year feeling it out and learning from our parents.

Some systems will never be able to come out the way we did, ever.

Having some kind of community body of experience, wisdom, and stories about this kind of thing would be invaluable, and would tell us all just how truly nuanced and varied coming out conditions can be.

If we can support each other enough to start building it.

how do i come out as a system? i know what to say but i get nervous

I'll let you know when I figure it out. 😉

There's an article I like to share that was made for tulpamancers and other plurals looking to come out. But it doesn't really help steel your nerves

And for us... My host had spent days talking about tulpa with his family working up the confidence when his mom guessed he wanted to make one, and then he just sort of spit out that I already existed. And at the time, I didn't really think it would be a good idea for other people to know about me.

And that's the entirety of our experience coming out. 🤷‍♀️

I legitimately have no idea if anyone IRL would even know I existed had that conversation not gone the way it did, because my host wasn't really planning to tell his family right then. (And they still don't know about any of the others. As far as they know, we're a system of two.)

Sorry, but I'm probably the last person who can gave advice on conquering your fears of coming out.

But if it's important to you, just decide that you're going to it and then act on it.

Or... you know... if you want to be like us... just strongly hint to them that you're plural until they figure it out themselves. 😜

[royalelusts]

Hc of Sanemi, Giyu, and Inosuke, with a S/O (Gn neutural) that grew up in the city and wants them to see their family and the city (fluff, lots of it uwu + i thought this would be funny and cute lol)

A/N: I seen this request and was like “I must write this now.” I really hoped you enjoy this though. Also sorry if a few parts seem OOC. Especially with Sanemi’s since I don’t know his personality all that well

🐗Inosuke Hashibira🐗

This was going to be rather interesting to say the least

We all saw how he reacted to the train (if not here it is - link)

So imagine that but 10x worst

He’s amazed by all the tall buildings and at how many people are around

Completely forgets why you dragged him there in the first place

To say you were nervous was an understatement

You knew how people would usually react upon first meeting your boyfriend

Only a handful were good

To your surprise though your parents accepted him with open arms

When it was time to eat they didn’t even mind that he ate with his hands

“Wow Y/N. He’s really lively isn’t he?” Your father chuckled.

Oh when your younger brother saw him?

He immediately went for his boar mask while Inosuke had it off

“Wow mister! You’re really cool.”

“Of course I am. I’m Inosuke.” 😌💅🏽

Was your boyfriend getting an ego boost from a child?

Yes.

Were you going to disrupt that?

Absolutely not.

City Adventures :D

You decided to let Inosuke drag you around the city to explore whatever he saw as interesting

You smiled to yourself at his excitement

Of and if anyone gave him weird looks or said things about him under their breathe?

You gave them the meanest look causing them to jump and quickly look away

“Y/N! Do you see that?!

You laughed at his antics

Though that was cut short when two cops came around the corner

“Hey you can’t have weapons here.”

“Hah?! What did you say?!

The two officers looked at each other in bewilderment now realizing the boar mask

Using the slight pause to your advantage you grabbed Inosuke’s hand running as fast as you two could

“H-Hey!” The cops yelled chasing after you two

The both of you just laughed as you ran

Yeah, would wouldn’t change the way your boyfriend is for the world

🌨Giyuu Tomioka🌧

When you told him that you wanted him to meet your family he was down

He knew how important this was for you

In his head everything was going to be fine

None of it actually hit him until he actually got to your family home

Your family would never have guessed that he was nervous by the way he was acting

He’s a demon slayer

Of course he can keep an outward appearance

You on the other hand knew better

You seen the slight shake of his hand when he went to shake your father’s hand

Or the way he slightly tensed up when your mother went to hug him

All in all your parents loved him and everything turned out fine

City Adventures :D

The first thing you wanted to do was take him to all your favorite spots

That included the small ramen cart that you always went to when you were younger

(The one tanjiro and nezuko went it)

“Even though there are so many amazing things to do here in the city, I’ll always come to this spot. All of the buzzing activity can be overwhelming and stressful sometimes. This little spot gives me peace.”

Giyuu just started at you

Feeling like you overshared you looked down at your bowl of ramen

“A-Anyway after this we can-”

You felt his hands cup your cheek making you look at him

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple

“Thank you...for letting me experience this with you.”

Your eyes widened before a smile spread across your face

“Anytime my love.”

☁️Sanemi Shinazugawa☁️

When you told him he was a bit hesitant

It wasn’t like he was afraid to meet your parents

No no far from it actually

He knows that he can be a very intimidating person with all his scars

After some reassurance from you he’ll be okay with it

While you’re walking up to your family’s building his hands were getting sweating

You gave his hand a small squeeze

“Everything will be fine. They’ll love you.”

Sure enough they did

Your younger siblings thought he looked really cool

Even going as far as to call him “big brother”

Your mother absolutely adored him

Calling him handsome and saying “y/n you got a good one”

Sanemi was lowkey hostile to your dad due to his own experience

Your little sister came into the room crying. “Papa I scraped my knee.” He smiled softly picking her up. “There there. I got you.”

Sanemi watched him treat your sister with so much care that he eventually apologized for his rudeness

Now him and your father are rather close

Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Who knows~

City Adventures :D

After meeting your parents you two decided to walk around town

Sanemi went to ask you a question but when he turned around you were gone

He said ( ・◇・)？cause where the fuck did you go????

You were literally just right there???

Sighing he went on a hunt for you

Now he knew you could handle yourself

You knew the city like the back of your hand

Still didn’t stop him from worrying though

“Oh, babe, I was looking for you.” You said as if you didn’t just disappear into thin air

His head snapped in the direction of your voice

“You can’t just go walking off on your own like that.”

Anyone looking in would think he was annoyed, angry even

But those purple eyes had waves of worry flowing through them

You gave an apologetic smile

“Sorry but I saw these” you held up two matching charms

“The vendor said that they were for luck. I got us both one so when we look at it we’re reminded of each other.”

He took it from you like it was the most fragile things he’s every touched

A blush formed on his face

“Yeah whatever. Let’s just go.” He grabbed your hand pulling you in the opposite direction

But if you look closely you can see him wearing a very soft smile

[ssahotchhner]

don’t trust cops

Hi, I didn’t really proofread this so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes! This is a oneshot, there won’t be any follow up. Basic synopsis is that Hotch suspects that the reader is in an abusive relationship.

pairing: hotch x reader

words: 5.2k

warnings: guns, intimate partner violence, verbal abuse, cursing

questions, comments, concerns

At first, there were little signs. Things Aaron brushed off as him always looking for the bad guy. You would show up to work with bruises on your arms or legs and claim you got them in the field. When you were watching an interrogation, if someone raised their voice you almost always flinched. The bags under your eyes had gotten darker, as if you weren’t sleeping. You were more attached to your phone than anyone could remember and refused all invites to come out after work.

“You asked for me?” You say one day in Hotch’s office.

He nods, “Sit, please.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ask as you sit.

He quickly shakes his head, “Not at all, your work is more than satisfactory.”

“Okay,” You say slowly, “So… What can I do for you?”

“I’m worried about you, I just wanted to check in. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

You frown, “I’m… sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He gestures to your collarbone where your shirt has slipped to reveal a fresh purple bruise, “You come in here everyday with new bruises. You check your phone consistently every thirty minutes and get hostile if anyone points it out to you. You flinch at loud noises, should I go on?”

While he was talking you had lowered your head to watch your hands, your thumbs fiddled with each other in your lap, “While I appreciate your concern, Hotch, I believe that my personal life is not your concern as long as it doesn’t affect my work.” 

“Y/N, I just want to help, I can intervene if you are in danger--”

“If that’s all, sir, I’d like to get back to my desk, I have a lot of reports to finish.”

He stares at you for a moment more before sighing, “Of course.” He watches you leave his office, feeling useless. There wasn’t much he could do if you refused to be helped.

Soon after he called Morgan into his office, “What’s up, Hotch?”

“Morgan, I need you to keep an eye on Y/N.”

He frowns, “Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure. I… have suspicions that there’s domestic abuse going on at home, but she won’t let me help.”

Morgan immediately goes into protective mode, “Hotch, if there’s someone hurting her you can’t expect me not to show up at her door and beat his ass.”

“Believe me Morgan, I’d let you, but you could endanger her if she’s not ready to leave him. You know that.” 

Morgan looks like he wants to slam his fist into something, “I knew something was off with her.”

“I think we all do…” Hotch trails off as his gaze is distracted by the bullpen, “What is that?”

“Looks like… a flower delivery.” Morgan says and sure enough, the delivery man places the humongous arrangement on Y/N’s desk. She smiles and the girls flock around her as she plucks the card from the middle of the bouquet.

“An apology,” Hotch says, his blood boiling, but his voice is neutral, “For the bruises he gave her last night.”

“And so the cycle shall continue,” Morgan scoffs.

“Morgan, do not bring it up to her. She will ice you out as I’m sure she plans on doing to me and we need to be able to keep a close eye on her, understood?”

Morgan bangs his fists on top of each other, but he nods, “Understood.”

Hotch watches him leave his office, his eyes glued to you, but you don’t notice. You’re smiling a bit, for now. Happy until he hurts you again.

Aaron does his best to stay focused on his work and not to think about you or monitor your every move, but it proves significantly difficult and so a few days after he talked to Morgan, he calls Garcia into his office.

“Do you need something, sir?”

“Close the door, please, Penelope.”

“Is something wrong?” Penelope frowns as she closes the door.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Hotch is more stressed than he’s been in a while, knowing you’re in danger and not being able to do anything about it has taken a significant toll on him.

“Sir?” Penelope asks, confusion evident in her voice.

“What I’m about to ask you to do stays between us, Morgan is the only other person who knows, understood?”

“Yes, of course. Hotch, you’re starting to scare me.”

He sighs, “I need you to dig into Y/N’s personal life and find whatever you can on a significant other.”

As expected, Garcia looks horrified, “Hotch, I can’t-- I can’t do that to a member of the team.”

“I understand what I’m asking of you, Garcia, but I promise it’s for her safety. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Garcia frowns, “Is she okay?”

“I think she could be in danger, but she won’t let me help officially which is why I don’t want you telling anyone. If she finds out about this she’ll isolate herself further.” 

“Okay,” Garcia’s nodding, “For her safety.”

“Let me know if you find anything.”

“Sir, what exactly am I looking for?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t know. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Garcia gets up and nods to herself, “I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.”

“Me too.” Hotch says to himself as she leaves.

***

It was three weeks later and Garcia hadn’t found anything. She had found the boyfriend, but there was no history of previous arrests or anything that would tip them off that he could become violent.

“This is good news right, sir? Maybe you were wrong?” But Aaron is frowning at the file, “Sir?”

He shrugs, “All this means is that he hasn’t been caught which is exceptionally common with abusers. He’s also law enforcement and… Well, I’m sure you know the correlation between law enforcement and domestic abuse.” Garcia was looking at Aaron like she was about to have a panic attack, “But, you’re right. It could be nothing. Thank you.”

Garcia looks like she’s going to leave, but then she turns back, “Sir, if… If you’re not wrong…”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to her, Garcia. I promise.”

Penelope seems reassured by that and leaves his office. Soon after, JJ comes in to let Hotch know there’s a case. 

“Is everyone here?” Hotch asks.

“Everyone but Y/N. I’ve texted and called her, but no answer.”

Hotch nods, “Thanks, JJ.” He tries calling you himself, just in case, but you don’t pick up. He ignores the tick of frustration he feels. Why don’t you trust him? You had worked together for years, he could help you. He had treated you like the rest of the team, like family. If anything, he had maybe grown a bit fonder of you than anyone else on the team.

“Where’s Y/N?” Morgan demands when Hotch walks into the conference room.

“She’s not answering her phone, we can start without her.” He nods to JJ, ignoring Derek’s pointed look.

“Hotch, it’s time to tell the team, I’m not leaving DC without her.”

Prentiss frowns, “What’s going on?”

Hotch meets Morgan’s eyes, “She could just be away from her phone.”

“You know as well as I do she doesn’t miss work calls.”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” JJ asks.

Aaron sighs, “I have suspicions that Y/N is in a domestic abuse situation.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Reid asks.

“Because I was worried if she found out that everyone was watching her she would mention it to him and isolate her from us further. I told Morgan to keep an eye on her and I had Garcia look into her boyfriend.”

“Garcia, did you find anything?” Prentiss asks.

She shakes her head, “Nothing.”

Prentiss looks back at Hotch, “And you’re sure about this?”

He shrugs, “All of her behaviors point to it.”

“Then someone should at least go check on her.” JJ says.

They all stare at Hotch, expectant, and finally he sighs, “Fine. Prentiss and Morgan, you go check on her and meet us in Baltimore.” When Prentiss and Morgan head out, Hotch turns back to the rest of the team, “JJ, continue.”

***

The text from JJ about a new case woke you in the morning along with the knocking at your door. Stretching, you rolled out of bed, “Coming!” You called to the door.

When you opened it, your boyfriend stood at the door looking stressed and angry. The usual feelings of anxiety and fear immediately flooded you, “Andrew, what is it?”

“You can’t go to work today.”

You frown, “What?”

“Your FBI buddies, they’ve been looking into me, did you tell them about me?”

Suddenly he’s on you, backed against the wall and you feel like you’re choking, “No, no, I swear, they-- They saw the flowers you sent,” You swallow, “But that’s all I swear.” 

He’s so close now you can feel his breath on you, “I don’t believe you.”

You immediately start crying, “Andrew, please, I swear--”

“Liar!” He backhands you and you taste blood. “What did I tell you about lying to me?”

“Baby, I promise,” You beg, “I promise I haven’t said anything. They’re expecting me, if I don’t show up they’ll--”

“They’ll what, huh? Call the cops? Is that a threat?”

“No.” You take a breath, trying to calm yourself down, “I just want you to know what’ll happen if you--”

“Well you should’ve thought of that before you told them shit about me!” He yells and you flinch. Immediately he goes for the vase of flowers he gave you a few days ago, swiping them off the table causing the glass to shatter near your feet, cutting into your ankles. You close your eyes and try not to react, thinking maybe that’ll calm him down.

“Andrew, I promise you I have not told them anything. They have no reason to look into you.” You say calmly, “And even if they did look into you they wouldn’t find anything, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Before you can even react, he’s punched you in the stomach, “Don’t talk to me like one of your unsubs, you stupid bitch,” He punches you again and you think you feel a rib crack, “You’ve always thought you’re better than me because you’re a fuckin’ fed.”

You can’t even respond because he’s knocked the wind out of you, your palms cut on the broken glass as you fall forward on the floor. “Can���t go to work like this now, can you?” Without waiting for a response, he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Almost immediately you collapse into sobs, hyperventilating as you try to pull the glass out of your hands and feet. You’re in the bathroom trying to clean yourself up and see how much damage has been done to the rest of your body when you think you hear Derek’s voice calling your name. “Fuck.” If you don’t open that door you know Morgan will just kick it down. You hadn’t cleaned up the glass yet and you had to walk tentatively to avoid the pain in your rib. 

Derek calls your name again. “I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t kick down the door.” You shout as you slowly make your way over.

When you open the door Emily is also there and you don’t even try to put on a show. There’s no point. You watch as they take in the broken glass and flowers lying on the floor, the blood on your mouth and the way you’re holding yourself to avoid pain in your ribs. “Did Hotch send you?”

“You didn’t answer anyone’s calls.” You can hear the shock in Emily’s voice.

You nod, “So being late results in uninvited visits with your guns out now? Must’ve missed that bit in the employee handbook.”

“He’s worried about you, we all are, and apparently with good reason.”

“I’m fine.” You say, and as if to demonstrate, grab a broom and start sweeping up the glass, “Brief me on the new case.”

Derek scoffs, “You’re crazy if you think you’re working on this case, you’re going to the hospital.”

“You can’t make me go to the hospital.”

“No, we can’t,” Emily says, “But you won’t be allowed in the field until you’re medically cleared--”

“My injuries are minor and weren’t obtained in the field. I’m allowed to work.”

“Hotch will bench you if you show up like this.”

“Then let him tell me that himself. Are you two just gonna stand there or are you going to help me clean up?”

Derek shares a look with Prentiss who shrugs and helps you clean up. For the most part they don’t say anything, but you can tell Derek is quietly stewing in his anger.

“If you want to say something to me then say it.” You’re in the bathroom now and he’s trying to help you pull all the glass out of your skin.

“I’m just trying to understand why an FBI profiler would put up with this kind of treatment.”

“It’s not always like this.”

“His violence is escalating, it was only bruises before this,” He gently touches your rib to confirm it’s broken, “It’s only a matter of time before he kills you.”

You look away from him, “Hotch asked Garcia to look into him, didn’t he?”

Morgan sighs, “She didn’t find anything.”

“Well whatever she did must’ve notified his precinct that the FBI was looking into him because that’s why he came here this morning.” 

Emily frowns, “Garcia’s more careful than that, she would know that that would put you in danger.”

You shrug, “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, he knew somehow that you guys were looking into him.”

Morgan is staring at nothing, his head lowered, “Derek, what is it?” Emily asks. You think you already know before he says anything.

“I… may have been following him on my free time. Sometimes I park outside of here and watch your window just to make sure you’re still alive when he leaves.”

You push past Morgan, too furious with him to even feel the pain in your ribs, “You had no right, none of you had any right.”

“This team is a family, we look out for each other.”

You’re pulling on a blazer and a pair of black boots, “If you two don’t take me to the crime scene right now, so help me God.”

They both look at you hopelessly, “Fine,” Emily says, “Let Hotch deal with you.”

***

The cuts in your feet along with your most likely broken rib make you a sorry sight as you have to limp into the Baltimore police station. The look on Hotch’s face when he sees you almost falters your rage, just for a moment.

“You made them look into Andrew after I told you I was fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” He looks to Morgan and Prentiss, “Why isn’t she at a hospital?”

“She insisted on coming here and working on this case.”

“You’re not working this case until you get checked out by a doctor.”

You lower your voice, “If I go to a doctor and get these injuries documented, you know what they’ll ask me.”

“Yes, I do. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out I’ve gotten medical attention.”

“You’ll be protected.”

“What if I don’t want to be protected? I love him.”

He watches you for a few more moments, “Prentiss, take her to the hospital.”

Prentiss lightly touches your shoulder and guides you out of the precinct and you glare Hotch down the entire way out. “She won’t forgive you for this.” Derek says, now at Hotch’s side.

“Maybe not, but at least she’ll be alive.” Hotch turns his full attention back to Morgan as Prentiss drives you away, “What did he do to her?”

Morgan sighs, “Looked like he hit her in the face, she was bleeding from her mouth. She had glass all in her hands and feet from a shattered vase and I think he may have broken her rib.”

“So he’s escalated.”

“Yeah, because he figured out I was tailing her.”

“Morgan, this is not your fault, I asked you to keep an eye on her. And besides, he would’ve just found another excuse.”

“So what do we do? DC police isn’t about to let us arrest him.”

“We hope that she lets us protect her and that he’ll come to us.”

Derek stares at Hotch for a second before it clicks, “You want him to come get her at our headquarters.”

“At a minimum he’ll be arrested for threatening a federal officer while she’s on duty. It’s the only way we’ll get him.”

“You’re comfortable using her as bait like that?”

“Derek, the alternative is him finding a way into her apartment and killing her before we get there, do you think that’s a better idea?”

Morgan sighs and simply walks away.

***

“I know what you guys think of me.” You say to Emily as she had been carefully avoiding meeting your eyes. You were in an emergency room, waiting to be called, “That I’m stupid for staying.”

Emily’s shaking her head, “No one thinks that. We’re just trying to understand why someone as smart as you, who has all the resources to get out as a federal agent, wouldn’t get out.”

“Come on, Emily, I’m a profiler too, all you guys had to do was check into my past to see why that is. Don’t tell me no one’s done that yet.”

“No one has done that because you’re not an unsub, you’re our family. Why else do you think I’m here with you right now and not working a case?”

You sniff and rub at your nose, “He’s not a bad person, he’s trying.” Emily won’t meet your eyes again. “He promised me he’d go to anger management.”

“How long ago was that?” Emily asks with a knowing look.

You take a shaky breath, “I won’t let you guys arrest him.”

“If he comes near you again we won’t need your permission.”

***

After your visit to the hospital, Hotch ordered at least two FBI agents to stake out your apartment every single day, 24 hours a day. You talked to Andrew on the phone, but you were firm that it was over this time, if only to save your career and your reputation.

He was angry, more angry than you think he’d ever been. He threatened you, threatened your team, accused you of cheating until you were forced to block his number. You didn’t tell the team about this. Didn’t tell them about the threatening gifts he left for you at work. Maybe if you had, things wouldn’t have been so terrible when Andrew showed up.

You didn’t know he was in the elevator with you until the doors had already closed and his arm easily wraps around your neck, his other hand pushing the barrel of his gun into your head. 

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” You don’t react.

“You’re about to walk into a bullpen with at least twenty armed federal agents, you won’t leave here alive.”

“I don’t intend to leave alive, I want them to watch me kill you. Sucks I have to do it with a gun, I would’ve liked to see the light drain slowly from your eyes.”

The elevator lights are ticking closer and closer to the floor your unit is on. “Andrew, I don’t want you to die. Don’t you love me?”

“You know I do!” His emotion finally shows, “You left me!”

“I know baby, and I’m sorry.” The elevator doors are opening, “Just put down the gun and we can talk about it, otherwise I can’t promise you’ll ever see me again.” Tears were threatening to spill over as you knew you were about to watch the man you loved get murdered by your friends.

“If I can’t have you,” He says shakily, marching you out of the elevator. Nobody’s noticed yet, “Nobody can.”

When he walks into the bullpen with you, at first your friends don’t notice, laughing about something circled around Reid’s desk. Penelope is the first to notice and her face drops, “Oh God.”

Then Morgan looks up. “Hotch!” He yells and then suddenly there’s about fifteen guns trained on Andrew.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You say shakily.

“Yeah, where is Agent Hotchner, huh? I’d like to talk to him about my girlfriend.”

You think maybe you can calm him down, “Andrew--”

“Shut up!” He screams at you, pushing the gun harder into your temple.

Aaron takes his time coming out of his office, no gun as he comes down the steps and enters the bullpen, “Why are you asking for me, Andrew, aren’t you going to kill her?”

“I wanted you to see.” Andrew says through his teeth.

“Why me?” He looks around him, “You have quite an audience already.”

Andrew starts laughing, “Why don’t you tell him, baby? Tell him why I want him to see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar!” He screams, “Why are you always lying to me? You think I don’t know what happened between you two? All those late weekends babysitting for Agent Hotchner.”

“It’s true sometimes Y/N comes to play with Jack if I have a lot of paperwork to do on the weekends, but only because Jack really likes her. But you put a stop to that, didn’t you? She hasn’t seen Jack in months.”

Andrew starts maniacally laughing, “You must all think I’m stupid. You’ve been fucking my girlfriend Agent Hotchner!” He finally removes the gun from your head and points it at Aaron, “Maybe I’ll kill you instead.”

“Andrew, don’t.” You hear the sound of safeties releasing.

“Okay Andrew, you win, I’ll tell you the truth.” You still in Andrew’s hold at Hotch’s words, “Y/N and I have been having an affair for months now.”

“Hotch.” You warn, but he goes on.

“She’s beautiful, young, intelligent,” He looks at you pointedly, “Incredible at her job. What’s not to love?”

You know what he’s doing, but you don’t want to do it. You shake your head, crying in earnest now, “Hotch, please.”

“I knew it! You son of a bitch!”

“Andrew, you have no one to blame but yourself. A low ranking DC cop, barely competent, you failed out of college.”

“Shut up!” Andrew says. You’re trying to steady your breathing as Hotch speaks.

“Meanwhile, your girlfriend graduated top of her class with an accelerated masters in criminal psychology, was recruited straight out of the FBI academy to join the BAU, the bureau’s most elite unit. Why would she want you? Especially when she could have me.”

“You better shut your mouth, man.”

“I have dozens of years of experience on you. I have a law degree. I hold several accolades from being in the BAU for so long, and of course, I’m the unit chief. But, hold on, I almost forgot. A real man knows how to satisfy a woman in bed, Andrew, but you’ve never been able to get your own girlfriend to orgasm, isn’t that right?”

Andrew is shaking his head ferociously and you know Hotch is about to deliver the final blow. Your signal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Except I do know, Andrew. And I can’t count the number of times I’ve made your girlfriend orgasm in my bed, all while moaning my name.”

“You stupid motherfucker!” Andrew yells and you spin in his arms. You move to grab the gun, your hand on it, but you’re not able to disarm him before the gun fires. At the very least, you’ve fucked up his aim and now you have his gun pointed at him, tears dried to your cheeks. Hotch knew Andrew’s fatal error had always been underestimating you. All the things Hotch had said were true. You outranked him, you were smarter than him, and you had more training than him. He was just as much talking to you just then as he was talking to Andrew, reminding you of your worth. Hotch knew that you would be able to disarm him easily if he was riled and distracted enough, but Andrew had never seen you as the threat you were until now as you have his gun pointed at his chest.

As soon as someone had cuffed Andrew, you dropped the gun, hands shaking and spun to see Hotch on the ground, blood on the floor, “Oh God.”

“I’m fine,” He winces, “It just clipped my shoulder. I knew you’d be able to get the gun away from him.”

You collapse on the floor next to him, “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see Jack in a while,” You say, tears falling down your cheeks again, “I really miss him.”

“Out of everything I just lied about in front of this entire bureau, that’s what you’re upset about?”

You nod, “I know he asks for me, it broke my heart when you stopped texting me the videos.”

Hotch nearly laughs, “I’ll send you some more as soon as I can.”

“How did you know?” You lower your voice, “About our sex life?”

“I didn’t.” He shrugs, “It was a guess.”

“Based on what?”

“You want to do this now?” Medics had arrived now and were looking at Hotch’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

He sighs, “All of his insecurities were focused on me from the second he walked in here. He couldn’t stand that he was subservient to you which would make trying to pleasure you in bed even harder for him. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that not only were you not equals, you were superior to him. I, on the other hand, outrank you. His biggest fear was that the only man who would ever be able to satisfy you was someone more dominant than you. I just played on that fear.”

You nod slowly, the medics are telling you they need to bring him to the hospital, “Thanks for making sure no one died in here.” You say finally and start backing away from him.

“You asked us not to hurt him.”

You sigh, “I know, but, still. Thank you.”

He offers you a small smile before the paramedics take him away, Penelope immediately rushing over to crush you into a hug, the rest of your team joining in. You had taken them for granted, punished them for caring about you. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

***

“Man, Jack, you beat me again!” You laugh and set down the Wii remote, the sounds of Mario Kart filling the room.

“Only because you let me.” He says with a grin.

“No, I would never do that!”

“I’ve watched you play with Daddy, I know you’re better than me.”

You giggle and ruffle his hair, “Or Daddy is a lot worse than you think he is.” 

There’s a knock at Jack’s bedroom door and Aaron walks in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, an outfit you rarely saw him in, “Dinner’s ready, go wash your hands, bud.” He announces and Jack immediately runs past.

“I should be going then, it was nice hanging out with him again.”

Aaron frowns, “Nonsense, stay for dinner.”

“Hotch, I couldn’t--”

“Please, stay. I made more than enough and there’s a bottle of wine I’ll need help finishing.”

You smile, “Okay.”

The dinner was full of laughs and Jack recounting all of his epic wins on Mario Kart before he finally started yawning. There was still a half a bottle of wine left when Hotch finished tucking in Jack.

“Thanks for dinner, Hotch, I really appreciate it.” You stand to put on your coat.

“I thought I asked you to help me finish this bottle.”

You laugh, “You really want me to stay?”

“I thought you would’ve figured out by now that Jack is just a ruse to get you to hang out with me.” He smirks and you roll your eyes and sit down again. “How are you doing?” He asks while he refills your wine glass.

You shrug and avoid meeting his eyes, “Fine.” You look up to see him staring at you, a knowing look on his face, “I’m serious, I’m fine. I actually think I owe you an apology.”

He frowns, “For what?”

“For shutting you out when you were just trying to help me.”

He shakes his head, “You were in love, I can’t blame you for that.”

You swallow, and maybe it’s the wine that makes you brave, but you finally ask the question you’d been thinking about since the day Hotch had gotten shot, “When you were talking to Andrew, lying about us having an affair… Did you profile me for any of that?”

He pauses, “I don’t think I understand what you’re asking.”

You sigh, “You said that someone like me would want a dominant man, someone who outranked me. Was that a lie or part of a profile?”

He watches you carefully, “You know as well as I do that all aspects of a profile won’t be correct, it’s just a guide.”

“But that’s what you think I would want from what you’ve observed.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

You gaze at him, mouth slightly parted, “You really don’t know?” He’s still staring at you so finally you sigh, turning your attention to the wine that you swirl around in its glass, “When I first started at the BAU I had a ginormous crush on you.”

He chuckles, “Really?”

You nod, allowing him a small smile, “Yep. It was very embarrassing.” You shake your head, “And then I met Andrew and…” You shrug, “Well, you know the rest.”

“And what about now?”

You look up at him and he’s looking at you so intently, concern written all over his face. And maybe a little bit of something else, too. “I’m not sure it ever fully went away.” You say softly.

He leans forward in his seat and gently picks up one of your hands, holding it in both of his, “I would be so incredibly lucky to love someone like you. I meant everything I said about you in the bullpen.”

You’re not sure you’re breathing, “You mean that?”

He searches your face, “Let me show you.” He says softly and then tips his face into yours. His lips brush yours tentatively, gauging your reaction. He’s nervous, you realize, which feels absolutely absurd to you. You carefully bring a hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb along his skin before deepening the kiss.

You feel his sigh of relief when you kiss him back. The kiss lasts for a few seconds before Aaron pulls away just an inch, “Would you like to stay the night?”

His voice is husky and deep and the beat of your heart quickens. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You say breathlessly.

And he smiles that rare smile and guides you up the stairs.

[shit-scfandom-did]

so i have a few questions

1)i cannot understand how you ship k*ramel. their relationship was FILLED with toxicity. from mon-el failing over and over again to listen to what kara had to say to him basically telling her to give up being kara danvers. convincing her that "being supergirl and having you is enough” was absolutely horrible. karamel had their moments but overall it was toxic. then in s3 mon el was married and the whole point of season 3 was allowing them to move on. accepting the toxicity from s2 and pushing past that romanticized time. mon el was a better person by 3b but he was still married. even if mon el and imra did break up in the finale there’s no future for karamel. even during 5x13 kara went to ask on advice about lena. and when winn came to visit from the future not a word about him. she’s moved on and it just wouldn’t make sense for kara to end up with him.

2) how can you hate lena so so so much?? it’s been said over and over again that all she’s ever wanted to do is good. though she’s designed to be this morally grey character. she has FLAWS but that’s what makes her so good. she’s a victim of abuse and you can see her struggle with that especially in seasons 4 and 5. in 5 she definitely goes down a questionable path but how can you expect her not too? after being emotionally abused by her brother, betrayed by her family, andrea (this did happen before kara), and then eve. finding out that kara and EVERYONE she loves has betrayed her as well. I mean how could you not go mad?? and even when she “went mad” she was trying to rid humanity of PAIN. something she later realized was a necessary part of life. her hurt blinded her from reality and lex’s manipulation pushed her down further. she’s been hurt and broken so many times and while that’s not an excuse for what she’s done you have no sympathy for her and that I find appalling. lena has realized what she’s done is wrong, that she’s made mistakes, what she did to kara, and she will have to live with that isn’t that punishment enough? she’s apologized and is trying to make up for everything she’s done by saving the world (again). your unnecessary hate towards her infuriates me. cant you take a step back and see the whole picture?

3) why DONT you ship supercorp or accept the queerbaiting? (watch this: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=C2w2GBXd_Pg) They are the core relationship of the show while the danvers sisters are the heart. they’ve gone through so so much together and practically dated in early season 2. they love each other it’s just oh so apparent. i like to believe one of the reasons lena reacted so strongly in s5 is because she was in love with kara and she couldn’t handle the person she was in love with lying to her. and kara flew around the world to get lena’s favorite food!! if that’s not romantic idk what is. I feel like you’ve developed such a clouded view of supercorp that you need to take a step back and understand what lena is the love of kara’s life.

wow what a long message. im not here to hate. im here to inform & undertand. i get it. karamel had their moments and even MY perception of them might be a little cloudy. im not going to hate you for liking them. hell I even shipped them for a little! my brother thinks 3b mon el and kara would’ve been perfect but he understands that supercorp is just where the show is leading and he wants them to be endgame. but what I will hate is your hate. what’s the point of all this? this thread, this account is going to do NOTHING. so why bother? I debated sending this and I hope I’m not too harsh at times but I really wanna see what you say. I hope you can open your eyes to lena and supercorp. maybe even become a supercorp shipper yourself!

- thanks and supercorp endgame 💙❤️

First of all, if you want to discuss ships in the future send this type of anons to facepalming-since-chernobyl, this blog is not for this, but for gathering receipts.

1.I just ship it, I don’t get why you have to understand it. It’s shipping. But if you insist:

No, it was not filled with toxicity. Count me when he failed to listen to her when they were in a relationship. Secondly, he is not a dog, he has his brain, he is his own person. People don’t always do what others asked them to do. It’s not slavery.

He has NEVER said to her to give up being Kara Danvers. How did he exactly convince her? How can you read the scene that he convinced her that being supergirl and having him is erasing Kara Danvers? In this scene he supports anything SHE WANTS to do. Also, Kara Danvers doesn’t equal Kara being a reporter in CatCo. On that moment she had her blog. She change people’s live with it like a real reporter. She took the risk and met consequences of her actions aka being fired by Snapper. Also, remind me who told her to create a blog? With your logic Lena was erasing Kara Danvers too.

Friendly reminder that he was forced to the marriage to keep peace. Also, friendly reminder Imra and the Legion out him in this situation without telling him about her plans. She and Brainiac put him there, knowing exactly how much he loved Kara and how much she meant to him. Imra knew that, that’s why she asked him to stay and solve his feelings. She said if he had come back, she would have known he had no doubts. But he wanted to stay, that’s why they broke up. He came back because once again he sacrificed himself for the greater good, like a real hero. Maybe watch the Argo eps because they clearly show that no, it was no about moving on.

It was not accepting about so called toxicity. First of all, she already forgave him that he lied. Secondly, all of she was screaming in that scene, when she was infected with M’rynn’s powers, happened before they got together and it was already approached in the musical ep. Aka, this scene had no point.

There is no future for karamel because you say so?

Kara went to asked him, because she truly believed and trusted him and his judgment. And yes, she asked about Lena and what did he said? That Kara deserved the same compassion she gives others, something Lena never gave her. And sorry, I know all scs scream the 100 ep was about sc, but it was about Kara fully realizing she is not responsible for Lena’s horrible choices. That’s it. And friendly reminder she called her a villain in the last scene. Also, the ep showed than no matter what, Lena always ends screwing something, because she has too big ego, always knows better, doesn’t stand criticism and doesn’t trust anyone.

It doesn’t make sense for you. Suit yourself.

2.Her fans made me hate her :) Thanks to them and how they excuse her every horrible action, how they treat her as a victim, while she abuse everyone etc. I started to watch her more carefully. And well, she is a horrible, white, privileged capitalist, who plays god, judge, jury, has mommy issues and acts like typical Luthor while crying she is not one, while still using Luthors money and resources.

Yeah, many people want to make good and end doing evil things. Common people pay for their sins, she has never. Since allowing hostile Daxamite army to invade the Earth (also, her portal affected the other aliens who destroyed the NC), producing a device that could recofnize aliens without their consent (and it was used by Children of Liberty,)producing and lying about Kryptonite, trying to make people superpowered without any supervision, killing Adam during illegal experiment, supporting openly alienphobic president and in a way Agent Liberty, killing Lex and then blaming Kara and finally manipulating Kara for months, lying, gaslighting, yelling, making her steal Lex journal, trying to lobotomize her and tortured with kryptonite, hurting every way possible, physically and mentally. Working with mass murderer, enslaving 3 people (kidnapping Eve, without her consent putting AI into her mind, basically RAPING her brain and making her a puppet in her own body; enslaving end experimenting on Malefic and Russel – threatening to kill him to steal Andrea’s necklace) – none of it are flaws. It was horrible abuse and violating every human right and the fact some people excuse it is disgusting.

First of all, being victim of abuse doesn’t give you the rights to HURT other people. The fact I have to explain pains me. Secondly, what abuse exactly? Lillian didn’t love her? Lex kidnapped her? Said he was going to kill her? You know what? Winn HAD HORRIBLE past and he didn’t turn into a murderer. Mon-El was abused by his mother and never tortured Kara with Kryptonite. J’onn killed a lot of white martians but last time I checked he doesn’t feel good about it. Also, never said the things he has done were GOOD. See a difference?

Yeah, and all of it, still doesn’t give her the rights to torture people. Also, friendly reminder she lied to Supergirl about Kryptonite in s3, much before the whole drama. Remember how she destroyed the life of a girl that stole boyfriend in middle school? It clearly shows she always had THAT in her. Plus, sorry not sorry, if she wanted different life, outside her family she could have easily done that. She was in Star City, with Jack, doing her researches, making her career. And she threw it all away, because she WANTED to be a Luthor.

Plus, sorry not sorry, if you feel betrayed and hurt because your friend didn’t tell you something she didn’t OWE you, you go to therapy, not trying to lobotomize entire planet.

Mate, she wanted to lobotomizer entire humanity, without ANYONE’S consent, because SHE, one single Lena, felt hurt. This is playing a GOD. Nothing explains it.

Planning a cold ass revenge for months is not being blinded by feelings.

Once again, even if could argue about how many times she was broken, most of that was a white privileged life she chose herself but whatever, it still doesn’t excuse her. All of she has done should meet consequences. Paying for shit you have done, accepting it, fully realizing what you have done is a part of redemption. Still in s5 she didn’t even apologize to Kara. Because she still didn’t understand what she has done and doesn’t feel sorry about it.

Feel appalled as much as you want, because I’m not going to feel sorry for a white, privileged woman who has never paid for her actions and is basically a living avatar of the worst Karen you can imagine.

She realized Lex was using her horrible experiments (remember? She experimented on puppies too) to his own agenda, that’s why she went to Kara. That’s not grasping a thing. Mhm, if you call that an apology then suit yourself. She is not saving the world, she is helping once again other people fixing the shit she created.

Feel infuriated as much as you want, because I don’t care? Especially when it comes from a person who tells others to take a step back while being totally narrow minded about Mon-El and karamel.

3.Because actors, prodcuers, writers call SC a female friendship. Mel did that in her last interview. See whatever you want but maybe stop forcing people to ship a horribly abusive ship.

Well… no. Kara is the heart and soul of the Supergirl. Alex is her most important relationship. Lena is an important friend, who doesn’t deserve it yet, but we all know Kara is the Paragon of Hope so of course she is going to forgive her.

I know you people think sc dated because they breathed in one room, but in s2 Kara dated, had sex, kissed, cuddled and enjoyed her time with Mon-El.

Yeah, they love each other as friends. It was said more than once.

That’s your delusion, you are free to do it.

Kara done that to Alex too, so you are saying she is romantically in love with her sister or something? If bringing people food is romantic and damn, most of the people I know loves me, god.

No, lena is not Kara’s love of her life.

Cool, you are not going to hate me because I ship karamel, I’m touched.

Sorry that you are going to be super disappointed in the end of the show I guess.

You will hate my hate – what’s the point of it?

Once again, because I don’t think you understand the point of this blog or read the description – it’s gathering receipts of assholes who cross tag and hate on the actors. Maybe go and search #gross hate or #cast hate on this blog so you can see how amazing your fandom is. Have fun.

I would rather eat my own shit than starting shipping the victim of abuse with her abuser.

Thanks and no :)

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 3)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~2.5k words)

Warnings: again poor communication!!! angst, no sex in this chapter

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“Oi, you fucking bastard, you knew!”

Iwa losing his temper over the phone wasn’t exactly atypical, even if it had become a less frequent occurrence, but for once Oikawa was actually genuinely surprised to hear his friend this angry over the phone. Especially given that it was almost 2pm in San Juan, which made it the very early AM in Tokyo, so whatever had worked him up had also kept him up way past his bedtime, given that Iwa was now extremely careful about his sleep hygiene. 

Oikawa took enough time to properly swallow the bite he’d just taken of his choripan before answering.

“What did I know, Iwa-chan?” He finally inquired, setting down his sandwich in the wrapper spread across his lap before leaning back into the park bench on which he was sitting. It was a wonderful sunny day, the type of day where it was a shame you were being yelled at, he mused briefly.

“About ___ and Ushijima.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed, not that Iwa could see the confusion on his face. There was a short pause which Oikawa broke eventually.

“Am I missing something or…?” His genuinely confused tone didn’t serve in any way to make Iwa less irritated.

“You didn’t say anything!” He hissed loudly enough that Oikawa winced, holding his cellphone a good distance from his ear before answering. “You used to tell me about that motherfucker’s every move, and now that it’s useful information, you have nothing to say?”

Oikawa frowned.

“Why are you blaming me for your communication issues, Iwa-chan?!” He all but whined.

When Iwa’s voice grew silent on the other line, Oikawa grew slightly nervous. But he was right. This was a particularly severe lapse in communication between Iwa and you that he was now projecting onto him, severe because clearly it had ended up being a bigger deal than it should have been in the first place.

As much as Iwa didn’t want to admit it, yesterday evening was evidence that something was very, very wrong in his relationship with you, or at the very least a residual tangled web of feelings to sort out, and it wasn’t exactly something he could easily fix or improve on his own. 

Not that he wouldn’t try. 

“What happened?” Oikawa finally asked, and Iwa retreated.

“Nothing. I’ll… talk to you later.”

The phone cut off on Iwa’s end and Oikawa sighed with mild irritation before returning to his lunch thousands of miles away.

On the other side of the globe, Iwa made his way from the balcony to the bedroom, setting his phone down on the nightstand and taking a glance at you who had appeared to be finally sleeping soundly, but betrayed by the intermittent soft hiccups of someone who had been crying just moments earlier. 

He hadn’t meant to make you cry. In fact, he hadn’t even meant to force another discussion at all, but hours after the last guests had filed out, none the wiser about the fight that had just transpired earlier (even if Hinata had made a single innocent comment about the bruise blooming on Ushijima’s cheek), the elephant in the room had grown entirely too large for him to bear. Unfortunately, the simple demand for clarification had spiraled out of control and ended up with a shouting match which had culminated in you bursting into tears.

It wasn’t a good look for him to behave like this. 

Even so, Iwa couldn’t stop thinking about how the subject of your argument had replied to his grumbled apology with the admission that he probably deserved the hit for all he’d done. Somehow, the persistent remorse in his voice made Iwa consider hitting him a second time for good measure. 

That wouldn’t be the right move either. There wasn’t really a right move, was there? All Iwaizumi could do was hope that everything would blow over. 

You loved him after all; he was sure of it.

---

you knew, didn’t you?

knew what?

You grit your teeth at the quickly returned text message, then set your phone down at your desk letting out a hushed but aggravated sigh, before picking it up again and typing furiously. 

you texted me, ‘how’s everything going?’ right before all that shit happened.

that could mean literally anything??? What???

You didn’t know how much longer your friend was going to feign innocence, but it looked like not very long because once your eyes flitted back to the unfinished project proposal you had been working on, your phone quickly buzzed again. 

By the time you had told her what happened this morning on your morning commute to work, she had grown a little too quiet, interjecting very little as you spoke and not asking any clarifying questions. You had assumed that she had just been being extra considerate, but now that it was early afternoon and there was a lull in your concentration, it occurred to you again just how clearly she must have anticipated the awkward situation.

YOU said you didn’t follow sports anymore + it’s been 3 years. HOW was I supposed to know you were going to overreact?

Overreact?

There was a small pause in which you saw her speech bubble pop up and then down, and then up again.

Not overreacting I guess, but I’m just confused… Don’t you and Iwa talk? How did it become a huge deal?

You decided you didn’t really have an answer to that. All you could do was return a noncommittal idk, letting the conversation die out and returning back to the task at hand.

---

“Mommy, why does he look like that?”

Ushijima glanced for a split second at the small child pointing openly at him, giving a small, understanding nod to the mortified mother trying to quiet her son’s whispers before continuing on his way back to his hotel.

His face didn’t exactly throb anymore, but the bruise he had been gifted with was very noticeable even if he had to be thankful he didn’t have a black eye. Iwa had hit him surprisingly hard, which was good. At the very least, he could count on him to protect you.

Getting hit in the face by your athletic trainer wasn’t ideal but he and Iwaizumi were both professionals. They could put it past them.

Even if they didn’t have a deep friendship, there was a sort of camaraderie since they’d met in California years ago. That relationship didn’t have to sour, he told himself. 

He just needed to give you two a wide berth. 

Even if he didn’t want to, he had to. It was the right, mature thing to do. 

Even if he didn’t miss on the court, he’d missed a crucial set in life. 

He had no right to demand a second chance.

---

You hadn’t traveled home alone in a while, you realized, as you set pace towards your apartment after a long shift. The subway was cramped as usual, but the closeness of the quarters felt more noticeable and uncomfortable now that Iwa’s hand wasn’t holding yours and keeping you close to him. He’d messaged you about an hour before you were about to leave work to give you a heads up that he would be returning late, and for a moment, you wondered if it were really true or if he was still mad at you.

But you knew Iwa well enough to be confident that he didn’t hold grudges, and if he were still uncomfortable he would tell you - he would never actively avoid you. 

Then again, you hadn’t had a conflict like this before.

I don’t love him, I only love you, you’d said to him almost screaming, defensive because Iwa’s voice had sounded hurt when you failed to come up with the words to explain why you were so shaken still.

You’d meant that with your whole heart. So why exactly did you react so poorly? 

Maybe it was the final death rattle of unresolved feelings, rearing their ugly head before being banished to whatever realm past hurts went once they were healed.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you stood for a moment at the entryway after flipping the light switch, taking a couple of seconds to blink away the fact that things didn’t look quite right. 

For a moment, you couldn’t remember exactly when you had replaced your TV - was that before or after Ushijima? Had that couch always been in that position? 

Fatigue even made you wonder where your houseplants had gone, until you remembered you had all but given them all away, telling yourself that those last vestiges of your relationship would have to vanish before you could truly count yourself moved on.

Now that the plants were gone, were you truly over it?

You let out a sigh and set your keys down before shooting a message to Iwa to let him know that you had made it home. That proposal wouldn’t write itself, and you could tackle it anew once you’d treated yourself with a warm bath and a modest glass of wine.

---

Seated in his soon-to-be minimally used office, Iwaizumi leafed through the short stack of papers before him, including prior athletic history and a formal written statement from the team physician. Satisfied, he gathered the documents and gently pushed them across the desk towards the silent, patiently waiting athlete sitting across from him.

“It looks like you’re cleared for practice tomorrow,” he said, offering a measured smile to Ushijima.

“Not that I expected any issues,” Iwa continued, compelled to keep speaking from the lack of response from the man before him. While he didn’t exactly sense hostile energy from Ushijima, it seemed like he was even more difficult to read than usual. 

Then again, Iwa was unsure if he was projecting; he acknowledged that prior to this very moment in time, he had been more standoffish than usual, having avoided unnecessary interaction with Ushijima during the day’s orientation activities.

He took a surreptitious glance at the wall clock above his head. There were only two more members to clear after Ushijima and then he’d be done for the day and could go back home to you, maybe picking up sushi on the way home as a peace offering.

Ushijima didn’t exactly look like he was getting ready to leave, but Iwa hadn’t explicitly dismissed him.

The two sat in an awkward silence and Iwa wondered if he should apologize again to settle the stagnant air between them, not knowing that the man before him was considering the exact same thing. 

What happens now? seemed to be the question du jour.

“How’s your father?” Iwa asked abruptly, shifting in his chair and leaning forward on elbows propped onto the desk, maybe a little too forward, in attempts to keep his mind off the fact that the volleyball player before him had also played with his love’s heart.

“He’s been well. Thank you for asking.”

Another pause ensued and Iwa was running out of ways to tell him politely to get out of his office for his next client, but for once Ushijima was the one to break the silence.

“I want us to have a good working relationship despite everything.”

The statement hung in the air for a second before settling and Iwa could feel irritation start to bubble in the pit of his stomach once again, but instead he forced a pleasant smile.

“Of course.”

---

With feet tucked beneath you, your laptop perched on the glass coffee table and a half-drunk glass of white wine (refilled once) atop the end table next to the couch, the sad truth was that you had only written about five lines in the past 45 minutes. 

Instead, against all the advice you’d ever been given in your life, you had sleuthed your way into your ex’s Instagram and Facebook accounts, gleaning as much information as you could about what had happened after you were two, after you’d blocked him cold turkey on every social media application and vowed never to look back.

As expected, the pictures and life updates he posted were few and far between, but there were still some to learn from, especially when you looked through those snapshots taken by others in his life. You were initially surprised to see old pictures of you together still up if you went back far enough, but clicked past them quickly because the fact that you looked so happy was more irritating than sad at this point of time. 

You took another sip of your wine, feeling a soft warmth in your cheeks and a light pleasant haze fill your head while you kept perusing. Some pictures you recognized from his prior team here, Schweiden Adlers, and then there were other promotional images from a new team, Orzel Warsawa... He had even traveled to Poland without your knowledge, you mused.

You took special note of women he looked all too close to for friendship as you browsed, noting a gorgeous, tall blonde in several pictures he appeared to have dated for a brief stint of a couple of months.

1 short relationship in three years. It was a shame, you thought. They could have had the prettiest kids.

And there, you finally realized your internal monologue was crazy. Why were you doing this again?

You threw back the final bit of wine and switched back to your Word document. Maybe writing while a little tipsy wasn’t the best of ideas but any words on the page were better than none.

…

It didn’t take long for you to doze off and your boyfriend to find you sprawled on your belly on the sofa, your glass empty and precariously placed at the edge of the sofa, and your laptop placed just inches above your head.

Iwa’s smile was immediate as he admired your silly position while setting down dinner, quickly walking over to gather you up for bed.

You murmured slightly as he scooped you into his arms, your face instinctively nuzzling his chest. He couldn’t help but think of how cute you were, kissing your forehead softly before tucking you under the covers. You had been so exhausted lately from work, so he’d let you get some early shuteye rather than disturb your peace.

Leaving the bedroom to eat dinner alone on the couch, he noted your laptop in suboptimal location, moving it to the table before sitting down to avoid a future accident.

It flashed on with the slight movement, revealing a lengthy document with heavy blocks of text, which he saved just in case because autosave failure would bring you to tears. He then clicked out, only to see the results of your cyberstalking session.

His heart may have skipped a beat or two but he closed your laptop instead, leaning back into his chair to finish eating dinner.

The uneasiness that filled his stomach instead had to be related to the raw fish he’d brought home. 

There was simply no other explanation, couldn’t be.

[moonchildsaurora]

Before the sun is rising up

✤ knight!Jongho x knight!reader ✤ genre: royal AU // angst, fluff (if you squint) ✤ t/w: sfw, non-descriptive battle fight, sad reacts only, rated PG ✤ count: 1.6k ✤ [ part 1 ] of Lacuna miniseries  

a/n - o m f g it’s finally done. . .well overdue one shot for our precious maknae & the 1st of 8 parts for my new miniseries! Here I was thinking that it’ll be a more condensed piece, but yet again my mind decided to be loud. Perhaps I’ll be able to reign it in a bit more with the others (who am I kidding really tho). I hope I wrote well enough for Jongho’s character, even though it still feels slightly rushed. Thanks to @a-tiny-8iny for insightful convos which gave me the idea of considering the focus around platonic bonds too (which honestly gave me a plotline I was much happier with)! Also @hereisleo @monbae @s1ardusk @barsformars I remember yelling bout this series idea to you guys ages ago and here we are 💙  

It was rare for a champion knight to be able to bask in serenity, especially on the eve of the final battle. The kingdoms of Rivaria and Nethilor have long been at war with one another, what once was a united empire now torn apart from betrayal and greed. There simply wasn’t room for two powers to rule, and so by the time the sun rises tomorrow, only one will be left standing triumphantly. How twisted fate must be, to have childhood friends who had endlessly supported one another since their gruelling training days when they were mere squires only to end up serving royalties of opposite sides.

The cooling night breeze played around with your hair as your legs dangled freely over the cliff’s edge where you sat waiting patiently for him. You leaned back on your arms, hands gently curling into the slightly damp but still soft grass and face tilted up towards the star-lit skies. The moon was out in full tonight, somehow knowing it may be the very last time it could greet you.

Your ears managed to pick up the familiar sound of steady footsteps from behind, without turning around and a grin already forming on your lips.

“And here I thought you’d best me in arriving first for once, Sir Choi” you said, trying to hold back a chuckle.

The sound of metal clinking against another indicated that he had let his sword, Shadowmist, rest against the tree next to your Windsong. Forged by the same swordsmith, intended to be wield together as a complementary pair.

“My deepest apologies, had to use the good ol’ distraction to sneak past the night guards of my own camp.”

“How rebellious of you.”

Jongho gave a playful shove to your shoulder as he sat down next to you, an immediate comforting warmth radiated off him. You noticed that he was in his casual tunic, the soft linen matching your own one. It’s almost a foreign sight to you considering how used you are seeing one another in the heavy metal of armour rather than something more care-free.  

Just as you were about to ask how long he had before his troops would start noticing their own commander’s absence, a bundle was unceremoniously dropped on your lap.

“And pray tell, what is this?”

Your fingers fiddled with the thin leather cord that wrapped around the cloth, managing to unwrap the cover and your eyes crinkled with glee immediately upon seeing the contents inside.

“I made my squire swear not to tell the others that I was stealing extras for my supposed woodland friends,” a dramatic sigh escaped Jongho.

That caused you to burst out laughing, “You mean to say that the great leader of the Nethilorian army secretly befriends little creatures?”

“I always did say that your resemblance to that of a raccoon is uncanny.”

Now it was your turn to shove him, though you had to admit that his cover-up reasons were ridiculously endearing. “I wonder how your squire puts up with you at times, must be confusing for the poor lad.”

“What will it take for you to express your gratitude without mocking my pride?”

“Fortunately for you, I may be more inclined to accept certain incentives at times…” and picking up a Goldhorn biscuit, you held it towards Jongho, “Truce?”

Instead of taking the biscuit with his fingers he proceeded to bite down lightly, stealing it right out of your hold.

“You fiend!”

“Now we can have a truce.”

You purposely wiped your fingers on his tunic, earning a protest from him before tasting one of the sweet treats for yourself. These were the biscuits that you and Jongho used to eat regularly as children, the same honeyed taste bringing back fond memories. A fleeting image of your parents and home came to mind, the echoes of childish laughter and, “Watch where you’re running you two little rascals!”

“Remember that time you chased me with your mother’s rolling pin and it got us in so much trouble?”

You turned to look at Jongho, still to this day you haven’t quite figured out how he always seem to be on the same wavelength as you. Another biscuit was popped into your mouth before you replied, “Only because you not so accidentally spilled the rest of my potato stew.” That particular memory managed to coax a smile out of you, silently apologising to your parents for being the cause of their grey hairs.

A comfortable silence settled, the little fireflies were coming out to dance and the night breeze was still calm as before. From where the both of you sat on the cliff, the view of the valley was magnificent. It was a pleasant surprise that you discovered this hidden spot during the training camp and it became yours and Jongho’s meeting place ever since.

“I’m going to miss this.”

You could feel your heart clenching at his words, knowing full well what he meant. Setting the food down, you shuffled around a bit so you could retrieve something from your pocket. Dangling the two silver chains right in front of Jongho seem to break him out of whatever nostalgia trance he was in.

He blinked owlishly at the pendants, each holding an athesotile gem. You gave his one over and Jongho observed the iridescent glow it had under the moonlight.

“You sure know how to make a man feel special,” said Jongho as he teasingly held a hand over his heart .

“Had it been a confession token, sure. Unfortunately for you it’s only a lucky charm.”

“Trust you to still believe in that old tale,” he chuckled as he looped the pendant around his neck. This particular gem was sought after in the past for supposedly bringing great luck or so it has been old across generations by your elders. You had found these pendants as you were passing through the major town of Millbelle after a successful patrol.

“I’d trust in anything that will bring us hope at this point.”

The breeze picked up a little bit, rustling the trees around as if it became restless at your words. You really hadn’t mean to dampen the mood but reality was starting to sink heavily on your entire being. Anger and fear both seeped in, for being placed in such a predicament – you didn’t even get to bid your family a proper farewell with how fast war was declared. Your hands gripped the pendant tightly as you forced the choked sobs back down, though the corners of your eyes had tears already gathering.

“I’m terrified Jongho. I don’t want either of us to –“

“Hey now, are you forgetting something?” Even if he holds his gaze so strongly, you could still feel the slight trembles in his hands that interlocked with yours as he spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember when I said I’ll be with you till the end?” His thumb caught a stray tear and wiped it gently from your face, “I intend to follow that through.”

A million and one thoughts ran through your head as you looked at him, endlessly thanking the gods above for blessing you with Choi Jongho. Though death lingered over yourselves, knowing that you wouldn’t have to face it alone eased your soul that little bit more.

With a wet laugh you leaned into his touch, “I won’t hold back if you don’t either.”

Jongho stood up from his previous seating spot, pulling you up with him. You watched as he made his way over to the swords and retrieved them both, quickly using the sleeves of your tunic to dry your eyes before Jongho held Windsong out towards you for the taking.

Tilting your head to the side with a silent question that you only got an answer to after Jongho unsheathed Shadowmist. He directed the blade to be pointing at you, no hostility behind the action, just a determined glint in his dark eyes and a solemn nod of his head.

With the moon as a witness, a final oath was made by the crossing of swords.

The thundering of hooves and roars of the cavalries were enough to shake the land, as the Rivarians fearlessly gave their war cry. The grip on your mount’s reins was painfully tight as you stood observing the enemy ranks across the battle field. Dawn was upon you, the rosy hues of red and orange matched the accents on your silver suit of armour. It was a harsh contrast to the striking black and gold that the Nethilorian army wore.

Another war horn sounded, this time from the other side and your jaw clenched with tension as you watched Jongho lead the charge down the hill.

“Leave the Commander to me, cover the flanks and keep your formations in order,” your voice resonated with finality as you addressed your elite guards.

“Archers! At the ready!”

A wave of a flag with a griffin, your kingdom’s emblem, embroidered on it signalled a rain of arrows to be let loose. You couldn’t tell how long you held your breath for as you watch the arrows land around Jongho’s charging form, his soldiers bringing up their sturdy shields as protection. Relief ran through you as the arrows took out the slower foot soldiers around him instead.

Shadowmist was raised high and proud, equally deafening war cries echoed in multitude getting closer and closer to your side. You drew out Windsong and walked your mount towards the front lines.

“We ride…for honour,” the visor of your helmet was flipped down, “…for the safety of our people….for our lives.” You kicked your mount into a gallop with your riders following your lead, raising their spears and swords.

“FOR RIVARIA!”

Ironically everything seemed to slow down as you faced head on towards Jongho. Even the noise have become muffled, all you could focus on was your breathing within the helmet. Your eyes never wavered from his figure and when his mount stormed faster ahead of the rest, you matched his change in pace as well.  

“To thee I swear this oath, only by your blade will…”

As the first ray of light pierced over the horizon, the waking sun was greeted with the resounding clash of two blades; and the mourning for two loyal hearts.  

“…we meet once again at the elysian fields, my dearest friend.”

[mentalisttraceur-long]

So a Karen had a crying breakdown, after (not?) trying to hit black woman.

Ideally I just wouldn't have to experience this discourse, let alone ever need to talk about it, but if this preempts even on unpleasant-for-me take on this recent event, it's worth it. So here's why (almost) everyone is wrong somehow about this latest thing:

Your immediate reaction, in every situation ever, should be to consider the possibility that before the start of the footage, the seemingly obviously in-the-right party was doing something awful which justified what the seemingly obviously in-the-wrong party did. Ideally you readily think of at least one such situation, put yourself in the shoes of the superficially in-the-wrong party, and go on in alert for evidence of that possibility.

Similarly, you do not get to instead jump to the conclusion that the party most superficially in-the-right, was just looking to game how it looked and turn social outrage against the person. Same requirement: you should be able to think of at least one scenario where the party actually is really in-the-right, but for some reason feels legitimately worried and looking for evidence, put yourself in their shoes, and go in alert for evidence of that possibility.

In almost every situation where something bad happens, more than one person can be at fault or bad in some way, and that is almost always the case. Finding one person in the wrong in a situation is for immature children - you should be expecting that each person did something that was bad in itself, or made the situation worse than it should have been.

In this specific situation, the facial expression at the start of the footage is clearly pleading, possibly escalating to panicky, not one of the looks people tend to have on their faces when deliberately assaulting someone.

In this specific situation, the movements at the start of the footage look most like a reflexive panicky movement of instinctively wanting to grab or push down the recording phone. Given the facial features in the split second prior, this is the more likely interpretation. Given everything that happens after, this is the even more likely interpretation. Less likely in the unfavorable direction, the hand was being raised in a wind-up for hitting. Less likely in the favorable direction, the hand was being raised as emphasis/communication. More than one of of these could have been true, either at various moments, or even at the same time if the person was conflicted or still figuring out what they wanted to do.

In this specific situation, the recording person maybe had very good reason to want to record the interaction for their own safety, and the good reason may have included race-related stuff.

In general in the current social reality, a person in a confrontation often enough has good reason to want to record the interaction for their own safety, and a black person confronting a white person often enough has extra good reason on top of the race-independent good reasons.

We do not have good enough resolution on the face in a lot of frames to easily judge facial expressions, and this increases the danger of people reading in whatever they want into her facial expressions. I already see this. People seeing smiles in pixelated frames where I would say a more experienced gaze sees no likely smile, and where even if there is a smile there is not enough detail to distinguish a nervous or supplicating or reassurance-seeking smile from the smiles that would suggest malice or duplicity.

The person being recorded exhibits what is both entirely consistent with a genuine meltdown of an emotionally sensitive person being severely upset and panicking because they don't know how to handle the situation they are in, and which is consistent with a deliberately played-up reaction.

The repeated insistence of "no I didn't" with no elaboration could be true and the person is having a hard time figuring out how to say what they actually were doing, or could be false and the person is having a hard time coming up with a cover. Personally I find it much easier to come up with a believable lie which fits people's impressions on the spot, than to come up with a believable way of getting the truth around people's already-formed/forming wrong impressions.

The slow sink to the floor, especially with a sudden reduction in crying volume around the same time, is extremely consistent with people having a really bad upset. People freak out while crying badly enough, until they get light-headed and weak and it's like a half-involuntary thing which looks exactly like that - the involuntary part being that the person recognized that if they don't do a controlled descent, they're gonna have a worse uncontrolled collapse instead. On the other hand, any emotion is consistent with this - it's the crying and degree of physical activation that does it, not the nature or legitimacy of the emotion. But of course a skilled-enough faker can probably either fake it or work themselves up to a real one.

The person recording the interaction repeatedly exhibits signs of callousness, and a couple of instances of what sounds like cruel glee. If you have a person who's having a crying fit or is lying on the ground, what the fuck compels you to make snide comments or laughs at or about them, especially within hearing range? I understand that you might want to keep the camera on just in case something bad or new suddenly happens, but I'm sure if you tried to think really hard you could find a way to maybe not keep your camera persistently trained on a person actively begging you not to record their breakdown, or to least be less of an agitating, escalating dick about it.

But if we're being maximally charitable, the person recording it was probably in a very confrontational state, the kind where all sorts of social monkey politics instincts and emotions sway how we act. She might have also been trying to communicate with her TicTok friends live, giving them an update, and maybe her friends were genuinely worried.

The person doing the recording is also persistently managing to interpret and spin everything towards the bad-faith interpretation. I think this should be understandable and sympathetic and ideally you find a way to relate, but it also should be recognized as uncritically presenting some possible explanations as certain while omitting roughly-as-likely less-bad explanations.

We should also consider that as a black woman, the person recording was almost certainly acting from substantial pain history - who knows how many other experiences with people, and with white people or white women in particular, she was really cumulatively reacting to in that moment? Like when I finally physically fought back and won against my dad in my teens, in that situation I was needlessly escalating and if you looked at that situation by itself I was overly vicious, but I was lashing out against my entire history of his physical discipline and growing up in fear of angering him, and it felt very righteous at the time. (Of course, white people and Karens are not all one entity the way my dad is, so one overkill victory doesn't cash out the same way, but our brains and instincts aren't really built to handle that - in a small tribe where everyone knows each other, if you were routinely abused or oppressed or coerced by tribe members, one over-retaliation against one person would be very adaptive.)

Anyway, when the person being recorded eventually gets up and starts actively charing the person still recording them, that's obviously the same kind of thing psychologically going on as when you have a cornered animal in pain and you keep poking it with a fucking stick. If the recording person had been less of a persistent ass after basically "winning" the whole interaction, that would not have happened. It is not proof of violent or hostile nature, and it does not suggest any greater odds that the person had violent or hostile intent in any prior situation unless they were already persistently and severely harassed by then as well.

In fact, that was still communication - it was physical bodily communication implying that the recording person was hurting the recorded person enough that it's getting desperate enough for physical retaliation to be tempting, but actually attempted violence is usually silent. When people get serious about doing bodily harm, they tend to shut up. If she wanted that to get violent she wouldn't have been yelling "get her away from me" the entire time. That was a plea for help to the other humans so that the situation could still be resolved non-violently.

When the cops and security finally got there, the recording woman has some legitimate critiques/complaints/grievances. For example, if the two women's races were reversed, there is a real chance that the cops would've handled the situation very differently.

[lettersnorth]

Loe was following directly behind Locke, but even he knew to keep his distance a few feet away from the man taking the lead. And as they ventured down a short staircase leading down into the lower levels of the ship the two doors leading into the storeroom immediately came into view. The moment they arrived Locke turned towards the rest of the crew following after him as he brought a finger up to his lips, silently motioning for the others to stay quiet while he crept up towards the door with Loe following after him. For a man of Loe's size, stealth wasn't his strongest point but he made do as he gently shuffled over the floorboards.

From the other side of the door a soft, muffled voice could be heard. A woman's by Locke's guess, and one that was quickly met with the harsh sound of a man yelling in response whose words came out much clearer. "Hey! I said shut up!"

He knelt down on one knee and pressed his face towards the keyhole, peeking through it with one eye. "I see... there's a few in there. Blindfolded. Bound. One guard. Can't make out another." His words were soft but precise, relaying little else but the information they needed to assess the situation at hand.

"I can take him," he said toward Loe before a momentary pause. "But he's too far. I need to get closer."

"Your orders, Capt'n?"

"Kick the door in when I say so."

"Aye, say when."

Locke then turned toward Aislinn, motioning her to draw closer. "Aislinn, give us some cover. Don't fire if it can be avoided. We've still got the element of surprise for the party upstairs, and I'd hate to give that up now."

She nodded in reply to his words and then hesitated. From the way it sounded Locke’s plan was to go rushing headlong into the room. “As I recall, that iron plate strapped to your chest didn’t look like it could take another hit.” her glance shifted away from him, moving down to her gun on the pretense of checking her rounds. But she knew exactly how many were in the cylinder. “Just...keep that in mind.” she said, quiet.

"I can count on you to patch me up if it came to that, wouldn't I?" he said with a playful wink. Even in their current predicament he still had a way of easing tensions.

Yes, but that was hardly the point. Twelve above, she might have had the rug pulled out from under her regarding his chosen profession but she could clearly see he was still impossible. The look she gave him in reply said as much.

Locke then turned toward Loe, giving the man a nod of acknowledgement. One that Loe responded to in kind with a nod of his own as he took one step back as his right leg rose up into the air seconds before he slammed the sole of his boot against the door. Striking near the handle itself as the wood cracked and gave way to the forceful blow, opening a path to the storage room as Locke suddenly rushed forward with the gunblade in hand pointing directly behind him as he charged forward.

The sudden blow to the door caught the lone guard inside by surprise, and the man barely had time to react before Locke came barreling through. With a pull of the trigger it soon became clear why his crew had been so cautiously putting some space behind him. It sounded like a muffled gunshot going off. One dampened by a rush of heavy wind. The force being expelled from the barrel was enough to make the one door still standing rattle as it launched the Hyur forward and with a twist of his body he used his momentum to strengthen his swing, beheading the man in one fell swoop.

The poor bastard was barely quick enough to draw his own blade midway out of its sheath before collapsing onto the ground, headless.

All said, it was over in a blink of an eye and left Aislinn frozen in stunned silence still trying to piece it all back together. She lowered her gun and her wide-eyed gaze slid to Loe to gauge the Roegadyn’s reaction. No such shock lined his face, which told her such a feat from Locke hadn’t been out of the ordinary.

The sudden commotion sent a ripple of whispers and fearful gasps from the others on board. Men, women, and children alike all bound and blindfolded. There must have been a dozen of them in total.

"Seven hells," Locke muttered softly under his breath as he took a wary glance around the room. No other hostiles, it seemed.

Shaking herself, Aislinn holstered her gun and carefully moved into the room, her eye drawn against her will to the bodiless head that had rolled several paces away. The hostages seemed to be holding their collective breath.

“Not more of your crew, I take it?” she said in reply to Locke’s soft curse. She finally looked up at him, once again redrawing his measure with an inkling that it wouldn’t be the last time she did so. 

"No, I don't recognize this lot. If I had to guess, I'd say they're our missing merchants," he replied as he took out a small piece of cloth and ran it along the edge of his blade, cleaning off the blood that still clung to the metal before sliding it back into its sheath.

Aislinn crossed to the woman closest to them and knelt down. “Listen, it’s alright.” she said, careful to inject a soothing tone into her normally matter-of-fact voice. It was more to alert the blindfolded woman to her presence than anything else.

Touching her gently on the shoulders, Aislinn carefully turned her away from the sight of the bloody, beheaded man before freeing the blindfold from the woman’s eyes. That certainly didn’t need to be the first thing she laid eyes on.   “Can you tell me your name? How’d you end up on this ship?” Aislinn asked as the woman blinked against the sudden light.

"Loe, get an extra pair of hands and clean this up." Locke said as he motioned the Roegadyn over. Luckily for them, there was a large piece of cloth nearby that they could use to easily hide the body for now.

The woman visibly flinched and recoiled back the moment she heard Aislinn, but upon realizing the voice was a far throw from their guard's she began to relax. "Eve... Evelyn," she replied as the blindfold came free and she began to frantically glance around the room.

"Wait, my boy. Where's my boy?" she suddenly cried out.

The voice of a young child soon answered. "Mama? Mama! I'm right here. Mama, I'm scared." he practically whimpered.

The boy lay just few feet away sprawled across the floor, squirming in his binds in an attempt to drag himself closer towards the voice of his mother.

Aislinn immediately turned to the sound of the distressed child. The sight of him flailing on the floor squeezed her heart as well as any vise-like grip. Moving to his side, she murmured a few reassuring words as she slipped a small knife from her boot and hurriedly cut his binds and pulled the blindfold down from his eyes.

With a cry, he clumsily launched himself at his mother who, still wrapped in her own ties, was nearly bowled over by the force. Aislinn made short work of her binds as well and then stood back, turning to look over the rest of the hostages, all who had their necks craned to the sounds of one little boy’s reunion with his mother. Uncertain and cautious hope rippling through them.

“Oh, thank the Twelve.” the woman dissolved into tears as her arms wrapped around her son and pulled him close to her, kissing his hair, his cheek. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

A dark look passed like a cloud over Aislinn’s face. There was an anger in her heart ready to paint the deck above red with the bodies of those who had done this. She spared a brief glance at Locke, letting her expression speak for her before she turned and, starting with the closest hostage, began freeing them one by one.

Locke motioned a few members of his crew over to follow Aislinn's example and do the same while the others went to retrieving their weapons in a nearby chest tucked away in the corner of a room. Even from her brief glance the anger in her features was as clear as day, and with the help of a few extra hands it wasn't long before the entirety of the hostages were freed.

"Thank you," some muttered quietly under their breaths toward Aislinn while a handful said nothing at all, but the anxiety was evident on their faces. And once the last man was freed it was Locke who spoke at the center of them all.

"We're not quite out of the woods yet, folks. Afraid there's still some matters to take care of upstairs. Rest assured, we'll see it done and once it's over I'll be sure to get you lot home. Until then I need you folks to sit tight." he said as a few anxious whispers spread over the group.

With the hostages freed, Aislinn had stepped back to the fringes of the room while the crew gathered their weapons and whatever else they might need from the storeroom for the fight that awaited them above. As Locke addressed the frightened merchants, she listened, of course, but more than that she watched. If he was angry his ship had been stolen out from under him and used to kidnap people across La Noscea, her rightful crew relegated to a dank brig, there was surely no sign of it at that moment. He was nothing but calm, confident reassurance. Because he could see plain as day that was what these people needed. Assurance that all would be well. 

And there lay the crux of it all. A Captain needed to be a natural born performer. Because the crew was always watching, judging from his actions alone when they needed to be concerned, when they didn’t. In any situation they took their cue from him. The thought struck Aislinn with a sudden dose of clarity. How exhausting, to be ‘on’ all the time.

Locke then turned toward the woman and her son, the first of the two that Aislinn had freed. The boy clung toward his mother's side, shrinking away as Locke now stood before them.

The Hyur knelt down, bringing himself at eye level with them both as he glanced toward the boy and flashed a reassuring smile. A familiar sight to Aislinn in their brief time together. "Easy now, no one's gonna hurt you. I can promise you that. You've been a brave kid to tough it out this far. I know, why don't I show you a magic trick?"

The boy just sat there silently as Locke fished a single coin from his pocket. Another familiar trick. He let it roll between his fingers before clenching it into his right hand in a tightly wound fist. "Now, which hand is it in?" he asked the boy who pointed directly toward his right only for Locke to open it to reveal it empty.

The boy's mouth fell open as he stared in shock before quickly pointed toward Locke's left, and once again he opened it to reveal an empty palm.

"That's odd, now where did I... oh, that's right," Locke grinned as he reached forward, plucking the coin right out from behind the boy's ear. "Now how did that get there, I wonder." His words were met by a soft bout of laughter from the boy who finally relaxed his hold against his mother's arm.

"What's your name?"

"Ian," the boy replied.

"Ian, why don't you hold onto this for now?" Locke said as he placed the coin into the boy's hand. "It's a good luck charm. Kept me safe plenty of times, and now it can do the same for you." To which the boy eagerly accepted with a nod. "Now, I have a special job for you, Ian. My friends and I need to go upstairs to take care of some bad people, but I'll need someone down here to keep an eye on things and protect the others. You think you can do that for me?"

"I... I don't know mister. I'm not too sure I can,"

"What, a brave kid like you? Nonsense. I can't think of anyone else I'd trust with this job."

"Well, okay... um, I can sure try."

"Aye, that a boy." Locke reached out to gently ruffle the kid's hair before he rose and made his way toward Aislinn. "Shall we?"

As Locke approached, she dropped her hand from her chest and nodded, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of heat and flame that had begun to radiate within from the center of her chest. It had been happening more and more since the business with Red Argos began. Perhaps she was much more of an angry person than she had ever thought herself to be. A disconcerting idea, to be sure, and one she didn’t enjoy entertaining. She never pegged herself as having an uncontrollable temper. Certainly not one that burned from the inside out.

“You were right, of course. That trick is a big hit with kids.” she paused as she took a careful look into the hall. “I don’t think little Ian is going to lose that coin any time soon. Not when you've gone and turned it into bona fide good luck charm.”

She turned back to him and signaled that the way was clear.

He chuckled softly and maneuvered himself to take point once more but before he walked past he paused to draw his revolver from its holster before flipping it around and holding it out towards Aislinn with its handle pointed in her direction. "Here, take it. You're a damn good shot but it's all close quarters from here. I expect it back once this is all said and done."

"Boss, we're ready," said Loe as he approached with a heavy looking two-handed hammer in his grasp along with the others of his crew, each armed with weapons of their own.

"Aye, right to it then. Let's not keep our gracious hosts waiting."

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 6 - FINAL PART]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

A/n: we're so close to season 3 you have no idea how excited I am 😭 will and you are ADORABLE in s3. Enjoy a sprinkle of Byler in this ch. for now, sorry it couldn't be more 😂

Oo also, the pov flashbacks are kinda terrible but its kind of on purpose depending how old they're supposed to be. The younger they're supposed to be the more straightforward if that makes sense

Warnings: so much angst ahead, oof, my goodness. Buckle up kids :> this is a quite ambitious chapter but hopefully I handled it okay. Possibly the longest chapter in Cosmic history?? I think??

||Will's POV||

The vulgar smell of chemicals lingers in my nose and sticks to the back of my throat as my eyes adjust to the blinding light.

Immediately I feel his icy presence, and felt myself losing control and all sense of self in a matter of seconds.

But I was still moving, squirming, but I'm not the one commanding my body.

Shit, not again!

This has been happening on and off since he got me, he goes silent until he needs me. But lately, it's all the time. Usually I stand a fighging chance to break free but this time he's in full control. I want to scream and cry, tell my mom I'm here, I'm here! But he won't let me. I'm still trapped in this small corner of my mind, and the longer he stays the smaller the prison gets.

There are four(?) figures looking at me, but it's hard to make out their faces at first. Mom! Mom is here, she'll help me, I know it. And... Jonathan!

Help me! I'm so sorry! I couldn't control it, he made me! He made me!

They don't hear me, everytime I try to speak, yell, cry or do anything, he won't let me. It's been like that since I was admitted. Since the fire in the tunnels.

Just thinking about the pain makes him angry, I can sense it.

I recognize another face, the man they asked me to identify but couldn't. I know I know him. I know I can trust him. But the fog... Ever since the monster got me, a fog has been spreading in my brain, making me forget things. People.

The man, Hopper, I think his name is, steps towards me with a look of concern. He's cautious of me, I can tell. Not that I blame him, but again it makes me want to cry, even though I'm not in control. But I still feel the pain, like the sting in my wrists and ankles as he fights against the restraints.

It's then I fully process I'm actually tied up. I don't have time to react before I hear my own voice speaking without my permission.

"What? What?" I watch as passenger in my own body as he makes me look around the room and down at the restraints. "What is this?"

Nobody answers, and I'm beginning to grow fearful myself. I know they wouldn't hurt me, but they might have to. In order to get him out. And I'm worried about how they plan on doing that.

"What? What is this?" He repeats.

Again, nobody answers, and he fights harder against the restraints hurting me more.

"Why am I tied up?"

Mom steps out from the shadows and I calm a bit, the real me, anyway. She kneels down in front of me, looking up at me seriously.

"Will, we just want to talk to you." She says.

I'm here! I want to talk too, Mom, please hear me.

"We're not gonna hurt you." She says gently.

I know Mom, please just tell me what's going on!

My head rips up, making me look at everyone in the room frantically. There's still one figure I can't quite make out, but he doesn't seem to care about them.

"Where am I?" He demands.

The man kneels down next to me, and I can feel the monster's anger and agitation. He's threatened.

The man holds up a piece of paper, a drawing. I recognize at once that this is something else the fog has touched. I know it, and it must be something I made. Fear takes over me; my own, real fear of the monster that was now apart of me, but I also feel his fear. All I know is the drawing upsets him, and he knows something I don't.

"Recognize this?" Hopper asks, and the shadow monster shakes my head. "Do you recognize this?"

My head shakes again, and I barely hear a soft 'no' come from my lips.

I'm now looking at Mom again, she's staring deep into my eyes. My body isn't mine anymore, but I swear when she looks at me, she's looking at me. Like she knows not only that I'm trapped and that this is not me talking, moving, answering, but she knows exactly where I am. She's looking at my real self that's trapped in this small corner in the back of my mind and I'm certain I'd be crying if I could.

"We wanna help you," She says to me. "But to do that, we have to understand how to kill it."

Oh no.

His anger explodes in an instant, so bright and so intense that even I find myself feeling annoyed. But I remind myself that it's not my anger. I want to help. I want to tell them, but I still can't. Instead, my voice comes out in a hostile shout that makes my mom jump.

"Why am I tied up?" They both try to calm me, calm him. But it doesn't work. "Why am I tied up? Why am I tied up?"

Mom shakes her head, and it's clear to see how uncomfortable she is growing. I just wish she knew for sure this isn't me yelling at her.

He continues shouting the same thing, and I can feel my throat start to sting and ache from screaming.

"Why am I tied up?! Why am I tied up?!" Hopper pushes me back, and my wrists and ankles and even chest begin to sting as he fights against the wires again. "WHY AM I TIED UP?! WHY AM I TIED UP?!"

The lights begin to flicker and my body continues to kick and scream but not the words I wanted to scream. It's just the same question, and he won't stop growing louder. I see the figures, Jonathan and Mike...! But they're scared of me. They're backing away, and Mike briefly looks down at his hand and behind the post. The figure had grabbed his hand, but I still can't quite make them out.

I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!

"WHY AM I TIED UP?!" He screams, now fighting hard against Hopper's hands which are now trying to pin me back. And the more he screams, the deeper my voice goes and I swear it sounds less and less like my own voice. "LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

Please... Please, somebody help me.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

Hopper now has his arms wrapped around me, and I know it's out of restraint but it's also gentle and sympathetic like a hug. He knows I wouldn't do this, I can tell because he holds me tight and I even hear him mumble encouraging things trying to calm me.

My mom does the same, but I can feel the furious look welded to my face as he screams at her, and yet she still tries to comfort me.

"-sweetie,"

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

"-honey, it's okay."

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

Let me go! Leave me and family alone! Go away!

I know it must hear me, but since I am no longer in control all I can do is try to fight it. It's hard, but I don't give up.

Stop it! Just stop it!

I focus as much as I can, as much as I can muster. All I can focus on is the hurt and fear in everyone's eyes. Mike's, Jonathan's, and my moms. Hers hurts the most.

Suddenly I feel my body start to weaken, and my voice starts to lower in volume. But I still feel helpless no matter how hard I fight.

He's angry with me now.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

The shift in Mom's eyes keeps me going. She can tell I'm fighting, but I don't think she knows I can't hold out much longer.

Mom, please...

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go..."

My breath is harder and harder to find, and my shoulders heave as my lungs fight for breath. But I can feel it; I slowed him down.

"Go..." he mumbles weakly.

The lights stop flickering and Hopper lets me go. Mom stands briefly to sit across from me on the chair. She watches me carefully, and I can feel the tiniest bit of relent from him.

"Do you know what March 22nd is?" She asks calmly.

He's trying to figure out what to do, he's calculating. And he must be pushing back because I realize that that day sounds familiar. But the way she talks it seems like I should know.

"It's your birthday,"

The fog is coming for me. I can't remember my own birthday, and I've already forgotten other things about myself. Maybe if I keep talking to him?

Please, just let me go!

He wants me gone completely, and already I feel myself slipping back out of whatever control I had. He's winning.

Go away! Please, just go away. Go away... Go away... Go away.

But that's when she sees me again, she looks directly at the real me thats trapped and fighting for my life.

"Your birthday."

All I can do is listen to her, cling to her voice as the fog closes in on me. But I feel it start to slow when she continues, her voice as soft as ever.

"When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons. Do you remember that?"

Mom smiles a bit as she thinks about it, and I feel a single grain of strength returns to me. I can almost picture the lost memory, it comes back in small details, like a blurred home video with lots of static.

"It was 120 colors," she says, and I can see tears building up in her eyes. "And all your friends, they got you Star Wars toys, but all you wanted to do was draw with all your new colors."

Her smile grew a bit, not once looking away from me and I noticed an overwhelming gleam of pride. But still, I listen completely hooked on her every word. And I don't know if it is because of me, or what, but it almost feels like he's stopped too.

"And you drew this big spaceship, but it wasn't from a movie." She shook her head, gleaming at me still even if her voice began to break. "I-I-It was your spaceship."

Rainbow ship...!

"A rainbow ship is what you called it," her bottom lip began to shake before she smiled brightly once more as she spoke. "A-and you must have used every color in the box. I took that with me to Melvald's and I put it up and I told everyone who came in, 'My son drew this,'"

'Mom! Come on, it's not funny! Just take it down!'

'Honey, how are people supposed to know how great this is if I don't show them?' She asks.

'Mo~m!'

"And you were so embarrassed," she chuckles.

I'm remembering... Mom, I remember! I'm remembering!

But she still can't hear me, I'm still not in control. But he's listening. He's quiet.

"But I was so proud," Mom leans forward looking deep into my eyes. "I was so, so proud."

Mom...

She's fighting back tears now and I hate now more than ever I can't speak my own thoughts.

Mom, please! Keep talking, it's working. Just please keep talking...

Another voice speaks instead.

"Do you remember the day Dad left?"

My head whips up to see Jonathan, and for a moment I don't even know who was in control. I can feel it working, clinging to the stories they are telling me. They feel like home even if I don't remember.

It hurts to see his eyes are watering, and he looks just as worried and sad as Mom.

Like the crayon story I try and search for the memory. I feel as if I'm reaching around in the darkness, trying to find any kind of detail that might help me remember. And he doesn't get mad at me when I don't respond.

He walked towards me instead, and kneels down beside me.

"We stayed up all night building Castle Byers..."

I can feel that my face has softened over time, but still all I can do is listen. He's watching Jonathan, and I can feel his silence. Not his absence, he's still there inside me but it's like he's trying to make sense of what these moments are and why they're affecting me. Regardless, moments of that night came flooding back to me.

'I'm trying, Jonathan!' I whine, stopping to hit the ground with the hammer out of frustration before dropping it all together. "It's this stupid thing, it's balance must be off or something.

'Don't blame the hammer, Will,' Jonathan jokes dryly, not even looking at me.

I drop the hammer in frustration, I practically threw it and I begin to sniffle.

'Well, I do! This stupid hammer isn't doing the one thing it's suppose to do. How are we supposed to make Castle Byers if he's not helping?'

I go quiet, realizing what I had just said. I look to Jonathan shyly, and he's already stopped his hammer to look at me.

'We tried, Jonathan,' I mumble, sniffling. 'but it's no use. Let's just go home.'

'Go home?' He asks. 'No way! We said we were going to build Castle Byers, we always said we would. And we are. With or without Dad. He'll just have to miss out,'

"just like you drew it." Jonathan tells me, his face scrunching up a bit as he chuckles. "And it took so long because you were so bad at hammering."

But you were still patient with me. You helped me get through it even though you were going through the same thing... And I never thanked you for that.

I feel my mouth begin to twitch as I try to say the words, but nothing comes out. It was working, it was almost working! But I don't think he can tell...

"And then it started raining, but we stayed out there anyway." Like Mom, his voice started to crack. "And we were both sick for like a week after that."

You let me stay in your room and we played cards and other games while we were stuck in bed.

"But we just had to finish it, didn't we?"

Suddenly, I felt my fingers tap the sides of the chair. But, it was me! I think it was me!

"We just had to." Jonathan repeated, his voice still breaking.

Jonathan, Mom, anyone! Is anyone seeing its working?

"Do you remember the first day that we met?"

It was Mike speaking now, and my head turned to meet him. Again! I can't quite be sure if it was really my doing but any question of it went out the window when I saw his expression. He had stepped forward, and I noticed he was crying.

"It was... It was the first day of kindergarten." He spoke with a big lump in his throat. "I knew nobody."

A swingset... I remember a swingset...

"I had no friends and..." he sniffled. "I just felt so alone and so scared, but..."

He looked up at me, and for a brief moment it was the same look from that day. The details were still fuzzy but, that look I recognized. Sad but hopeful.

"I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too." He fought a hiccup as he spoke, the kind from crying and another tear rolled down his cheek. "You were just swinging by yourself. And I just walked up to you and... I asked."

'Hi, um, my name's Mike...'

He was looking at me, and he kept shuffling on his feet. He looked a lot more nervous than mean. I look up at him, and decide giving my name wouldn't hurt.

"I'm Will," I whisper.

"I asked if you wanted to be my friend." He chokes. "And you said yes..."

"Do... Do you wanna be my friend?"

Everyone else was picking on me for not knowing anyone. But he wants to be my friend!

I smile, pointing to the open swing next to me. "Yeah! Wanna play?"

Mike smiled at me, and took the seat. He looked pretty happy. But I am too!

"You said yes," he croaks. "It was the best thing I've ever done."

I can feel my face start to break, every twitch is a sign I'm gaining control even though my fingers are still moving as well. With all the strength I can gather, I'm able to turn my head at Mom. Fighting against him feels like I'm swimming up stream.

Mom, please get me out. I think I'm losing...

For once I feel hopeful that she notices something when she starts searching my eyes, my expressions and I'm still fighting. I have to fight for every muscle, and doing that feels like every one of them is made of lead.

Mom must have caught something in my eyes cause of the look in hers. But it's too late. I can feel him pushing back again.

No! Leave. Me. Alone! Leave me alone. I want my mom! I just want my mom!

I feel an overwhelming chill and I feel my body temperature drop again, not even realizing it had started to creep up again. The fog was coming back, and quicker and stronger than ever until I could barely hold on.

Then I hear my voice again.

"Let me go."

No! No, stop! STOP!

But then Mom looks away and down at the floor, sighing, and I feel whatever crumb of hope I had dissapear.

What? No, Mom, look. Just please look! Talk to me, stay with me, just please don't leave!

She looks like she's contemplating something, and then she looks up at Mike asking a question with her eyes. I can't imagine what, but Mike seems to understand. Then, they both look past the post at the figure I had never made out.

"Sweetie, why don't you come say hi?" My mom croaks to the stranger.

My head moves to look all around the room and allowing me to look at the others expressions. They all watch expectantly, and when my eyes land on Mike's he nods at the figure.

My body tenses suddenly but I don't know why. He seems to though, and it feels like another wave of ice is pumped into my bloodstream.

For a moment, there's the sound of shuffling footsteps and I barely detect movement. Like they're inching away from the hiding spot.

Then she steps out from behind the thick sheet of white light wearing a timid, tearstreaked face.

Y/n! You're here!

The one blissful movement I have vanishes in an instant when he takes full control once more. My muscles tighten and I feel my jaw clench shut, and the pain of the wires against my skin comes back as he starts moving me again. My face curls and I hear my voice saying such bad things to her.

"Get out!" She winces, but this time she doesn't listen to him. "GO AWAY!"

"No," she states, but I can tell it's hard for her. "not until I talk to Will."

"GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"

"-Will" my mom tries.

My body starts to move again, fighting against the restraints and Hopper has to pin me back again.

I can feel his anger again. But there was something else too. The same thing I felt the first time he took total control.

Fear.

Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm trying. I'm fighting! I don't mean it, I don't mean it!

He still fights and kicks, but the longer I see her the less I care about the pain on my ankles and wrists. It's the look on her face, she's heartbroken. She looks destroyed. Just as upset as she was that night, and guilt pulls me back down. My strength for fighting him diminishes, but what stops it from dissapearing altogether is the fact she hasn't moved.

All she had done was take the seat across from me. And just... waited.

He kicked and screamed until I felt my limbs grow tired, but still she waited. Once again since I woke up, I'm happy that Hopper was here to hold me back so I didn't break free.

How are you not leaving? After all I did?

Finally, he starts to stop, and thats when I feel Hopper's hand slowly release me. And even though he stopped, the menacing glare he gave her never weakened.

"Will," she says finally. "I know... I know you're in there."

Like Mike, her voice is already strained as she speaks through her tears. Even her nose sounds a bit clogged and I feel my heart break and stomach sink all over again. How hard I was making her cry.

She sniffles, and she begins wringing her hands revealing her nerves. Then she raises them in defense, her arms still glued to her legs as she leans on them.

"I'm just here to talk, I promise."

I know, Y/n. I trust you. I really hope you know that.

He doesn't agree though, he's furious she's even here. Every nerve is standing on edge and I feel colder than ever.

Leave her alone!

I feel my nerves jump, he's still anxious to get away from her.

"What about the day I officially joined the party? Do you remember that?"

My heart is pounding violently against my ribcage almost to a point it hurts to breathe. She's looking into my eyes, likes she's trying to find me. I think she actually is. Just like what happened with the others, the picture is hard to find. It's all just too fuzzy. The small part of me that's left can tell Y/n knows my answer, and that she's dissapointed. But she still doesn't appear mad at me, even though she has every reason to be.

"It was around fifth grade," she began, "You guys had been friends with Dustin for almost a year, and even though everyone saw, and treated me as Dustin's sister... you didn't."

She paused for a moment, trying to keep her sobs in. I could tell by the way her jaw clenched and she bit the inside of her cheek. My own throat began to swell as I felt an enormous lump growing in the back. I hate seeing her so sad, and I hate even more that I'm the reason. She began shaking her head.

"Sometime during spring vacation, I remember Dustin coming up to me all cranky" she chuckled, and looked down at the floor lost in the memory. I waited for her to continue, wanting nothing more than to soak up the missing details when she smiled. "He had just come home from playing with you guys at Mikes, and he was holding a small yellow card with my name on it,"

Y/n grinned, looking at her hands wistfully as if she could still see the card in her hands.

And then she looks up at me, with a wide, trembling smile but there were still tears in her eyes.

"It was an invitation to your birthday party,"

The thick layer of static over the memory flickered, and for a brief second the image was clear and I could make out one thing. Just a small moment in time.

Y/n, she looked a lot younger. She was standing in my backyard. But she was off to the side, all alone. She was watching Lucas and Dustin bobbing for apples in a big pool.

"From you. You had insisted I come and you knew Dustin couldn't say no," she laughs.

"I was so excited, but," she sniffled, her smile falling. "even Lucas and Mike didn't bother to include me, they all forgot I was there and for a moment I thought nothing would change. But... then you came up to me, smiling all nervously, but without skipping a beat you asked me. You asked if I wanted to do something else."

"It was so casual, too. We weren't even proper friends yet, and it was your birthday party, but you knew something was wrong, and you asked me how I could feel more included."

Y/n shakes her head, seeming disbelieving.

"We talked for a bit, and then you offered to show me Castle Byers. 'It's just over the hill,' you told me. So we went - and figures, the guys never realized we were gone - but I thought it was, just, the best thing. We played in there for a few minutes, these toy cars were all you had in there at the time,"

She chuckled, and held up her hands to demonstrate something of size.

"I remember you had this Tonka Truck, it was just smaller than a toaster and you let me play with it. You said it always cheered you up, and maybe it would help me, too. You even let me keep it at the end of the day, cause you saw how happy I was, even though the truck wasn't what me so happy."

I could feel my face twitching again, my fingers drumming against the chair numbingly. And then I felt a single hot tear slide down my cheek, and his discomfort grew.

"But you told me something in Castle Byers that day, something I don't think I'll ever forget, even if I wanted to..." she was crying again. "You told me, that we could go talk to the others and convince them to let me join, that I could be your guys' friend... I asked you why you were being so nice to me, why you wanted me to apart of your group,"

A small sob came out in the form of a chuckle, and she wiped a tear off her cheek.

"And you told me it was because that was your birthday wish."

The room was dead silent again, and I could hear sniffles coming not only from Y/n, but Mom and Jonathan, too.

"Sure enough, we were all the best of friends just days later. We were building forts, playing cards, I think we even got our walkies a few months later and stayed up all night leraning morse code... You helped me make that happen, Will. And I'll always be greatful for that."

Another tear slips down my cheek, but I feel my face is as still as stone. The next thing I feel is his icy grip pulling me back down, and this time I know in my gut it's for good. In once desperate attempt, I scream for my muscles - my arms, legs, head, anything to see if I can move. And that's when I realize, my fingers are still wiggling. I don't think he can tell. I don't think he knows.

He's too focused on her! I just need them to look. I can get a message out. My fingers tap just a little louder as I try to remember the right combination.

Right. Here.

Right. Here.

As I focus all my energy into the message, I hear her broken voice speak again.

Right. Here.

Right. Here.

Here.

"Will, if-if you're in there," she looks around at eveyone else in the room and back to me. "Please, just talk to us. Say anything, just please help us help you."

Right. Here.

Right. Here.

The fog grows, stretching farther over me and chilling my body.

Right. Here.

Come on, hurry up. Anyone!

Here.

Am I remembering it wrong?

Here.

Here.

Hopper jumps up abruptly, glancing quickly across the room, and back once more at me. Suddenly, his hand dives into his pocket to fish something out.

Here.

Here.

Here.

He pulls out a vial - or is a needle? - I can't quite make it out in the light but I see him uncap whatever it is, walking towards me.

Here.

Here.

Here.

It plunges into my arm and before I know it I feel myself growing sleepy. The last thing I feel is cold fear and the feel my fingers slowing growing sluggish against the cardboard until it stops altogether.

Here...

||3rd Person POV||

Will awakes once more, attempting to process the many things flooding his senses. The return of the chemicals in his nostrils and throat, the blinding white light blocking his vision, and the feeling of being watched. But this time, he does not wake to a dead silent room, but a string of all too familiar music floods his ears.

The first notes of Should I Stay or Should I Go explode through the quiet air, and strangely enough for Will, everyone inside with him has dawned an all new demeanor. They aren't weary anymore, rather they are determined. Jonthan is the first to take a seat across from his brother, an expecting look in his eyes.

"Do you remember the first time I played you this?"

Will's body sits completely still, a lost look in his eyes.

"Mom and Dad were both arguing in the next room," Jonathan continues. "So I played you the mix tape I made you. And it was the first time you got into music. Real music."

Steadily, his fingers begin to tap a new pattern all unbeknownst to the Mind Flayer who watches his captors studiously. Particularly the young Henderson girl lingering in the corner awaiting her turn.

All the while, Hopper stands behind the Byers boy, walkie behind his back as he echoes the boy's message to the other half of the team waiting inside to translate.

Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy surround the kitchen table. Each with a task of their own.

"Dash, dot, dash, dot," Dustin mumbles, feverishly scribbling them on a piece of paper.

Lucas and Max scan the coordinating letter provided on an old guide.

"Dash, dot, dash... Yeah, got it!" Lucas exclaims. "C!"

Nancy transcribes onto a fresh piece of paper and this process continues as the others take turns talking to Will. Mike is next.

"And then the party escaped into the sewers," he recalls excitedly. "and there were those big insect things, and you guys were still on level one. Then you cast Fog Cloud and you saved us. You saved the whole party!"

Another pattern by Will turned into another letter on paper as the kids listened intently to Hopper's incoming message.

"L!"

"Dash dash-"

"-O!"

"We were so happy to see snow," Y/n explains, arms waving as she reimagines the moment. "and we got so wrapped up in our snowball fight, we didn't see my mom open the garage and when you ducked, I knocked over the old floor lamp that had been sitting out there. We had to spend the rest of the day cleaning it up, but we couldn't stop laughing,"

"-S,"

"You saw how sad Y/n was," Joyce says, knowing she was just about to reveal a fact to the girl in the room, a fact she might have missed out. But this doesn't stop her from telling the story, or breaking away from her son's gaze. "and when you two came back from Castle Byers, I saw her thanking you for your Tonka Truck."

"-E."

"and I pulled you aside before she left, and I told you that we couldn't afford to buy another one,"

Y/n's eyes flicker from Joyce back to Will, swallowing the entirely new perspective her side of the story revealed.

"-G."

Joyce began to choke on her words at the pride of her son, as well as Y/n who stood off in the corner with a simultaneous swelling, and breaking of her heart. "You said she should have it because she was sad. She's sad, Mom, and I want to make that go away."

"-A."

"I love you so much," Joyce tearfully coos.

"-T."

"So, so much."

"-E!"

The play button ejects on the Byers boom box, the music coming to an end and the others gather around Nancy at the table. Will's message drips off their tongues simultaneously and a chill spreads through the air at what it reads.

"CLOSE GATE"

A loud, shrill ring pierces the chilled air and a total of six heads whip up at the startling noise of the Byers phone; All who are inside, and the sixth belonging to Will.

The rest in the shed follow suit, and they experience the plunging feeling of fear as they realize what is about to happen.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Dustin spews through his clenched jaw, the first of his group to reach the phone.

He rips it off the line and slams it back down.

The others look around at one another, silently wondering if they were in the clear. A second shrill ring answers their question, and Dustin scrambles to hang up the phone. Nancy beats him to it, and rips the phone - mount and all - and throws it to the ground with an angred grunt.

Everyone sighs, and Max is first to voice their shared concern.

"Do you think he heard that?"

"It's just a phone," Steve replies, his tone of voice betraying his intended confidence. "It could be anywhere... Right?"

Without his permission, Will's eyelids flutter closed and his head begins to twitch.

The Mind Flayer had begun his search.

"Hey," Joyce jumps up worriedly, placing her palm on her son's knee gently shaking it to get his attention. "Hey, can you hear me?"

His bretahing grows increasingly ragged, his eyes moving under his eyelids as the tunnels begin to spread under his command.

Hopper kneels down beside Will, his voice grave. "It knows. It knows where we are."

"Shit," Joyce hisses.

She jumps from her seat altogether and grabs the remaining dose of anesthesia and plunges into Will's other arm. His head drops in seconds and Hopper, Y/n and Jonathan flood outside onto the lawn. Their eyes scan the trees behind them, as well as the rest of the backyard but it is eerily silent.

Until the piercing cry of the Demodogs carries through the air, and across the night sky announcing their advances.

The others hear it even from inside the house, and they near the window. Moonlight spills onto their faces, illuminating their fear as they realize the dangers to come.

"That's not good," Dustin breaths, paralyzed.

The quartet return to the shed, pushing themselves past the makesshift curtains blanketing the door.

"They're coming!" Jonathan cried to his mother and Mike.

Everyone scrambles to untangle Will from his restraints, and scurry inside, Will over Jonathan's shoulder.

The only one to linger is Hopper, who hesitates outside the shed, and goes back for the rifle that sat amongst the pile of the sheds discarded things.

He's the last to enter the house, closing and locking the door behind him, and yet he does not know what good it will do them. He marches across the kitchen, grabbing the other rifle he had nabbed from the lab, and enters the living room. His eyes widen when he sees the children packed against the windows on the couch.

"Hey." He barks. "Hey, get away from the windows!"

They scramble off the couch and one by one everyone else files into the living room as they prepare. Hopper's scanning eyes land on Jonathan and he holds up one of the rifles.

"Do you know how to use this?"

"What?" Jonathan asks, still processing the sudden change of events.

"Can you use this?" Hopper seethes, turning red in the face as his impatience grows.

Another voice answers.

"I can,"

Dustin and Jonathan part as Nancy steps forward, and catches the rifle in her hands without a second thought. Her and Hopper cock their guns, and take their aim. In a matter of moments, everyone is packed in against one other in a protective huddle, their hearts beating as loud as drums. Some were lucky - and quick - enough to get their hands on anything they could use as a weapon. Apart from Y/n, who began wringing out her hands and attempting to shake out her nerves, and Steve who wielded his signature weapon; the spiked bat.

The tense silence grows thicker, hanging in the air far longer than any one of them would have preferred. The occasional chitter could be heard, and the rusting of branches followed all too soon.

"Where are they?" Max cries, her fear grows when she finds herself without a weapon.

Subconsciously, she moves herself tighter to be near Lucas who has drawn his wrist rocket.

Another silence, and the next noise to be heard beside their ragged breaths is the sudden groaning of the beast who growing closer by the second.

What sounded to a select few like a human cry was drowned out in the several thuds and more screeches from the Demodogs. The sound of branches breaking outside brought everyone's attention - and aim - to the dining room window visible from where they stood.

"What are they doing?" Nancy mumbled through her fearful panting.

Everyone could see the leaves shake violently against the window as if something had landed in the bushes.

The battle cries of the Demodogs flew from window to window at an alarming speed, as did the barrels of Hopper and Nancy's guns.

Everyone watches with great worry and confusion as the battle cries quickly turn to cries of pain. And for one small moment they think they hear the sounds of bones crushing as it screeches in pain.

Before their minds can conjure any possible explanation, the far left window pane shatters as the body of a Demodog comes crashing onto the living room floor. Violent cries of terror rip from everyone's throats as they jump out of the way, turning on the intruder.

Their guards lower on a single notch as they realize the thing lays completely lifeless. And yet, they creep forward to examine the body, Hopper the closest of all as he advances on what he hopes is its corpse.

"Holy shit," Dustin whispers.

"Is it dead?" Max gapes, wearily inching forward towards the monster.

Hopped takes a deep breath, gun still drawn and finger on the trigger and inches his boot closer to the Demodog. It's lifeless head falls to the side limply, and everyone breathes what they know to be a temporary sigh of relief.

The relief is snatched up in seconds, and everyone's guard returns when they hear a soft wooden creak coming from the front door. Everyone returns to their position, weapons drawn ready to fight.

An unusual sight turns their heads as they watch the deadbolt unlock by itself. It's sharp click booms in their ears like thunder. Everyone creeps forward by a mere few steps, and in their heightened adrenaline fueled state, they begin to questions the Demodogs capabilities if only for a fleeting moment before dismissing it altogether.

They watch in awe as the chain lock on the door, slides itself unlocked, and drops instantly, swing limply against the door. It creates a taunting scrape as it grazes the door.

Everyone wonders what they are about to face, everyone apart from a the dutiful chief, a missing experiment, and a certain boy who does not dare let himself entertain the idea in fear of another painful heartbreak.

With soft and muffled clicks from the tumblers, the wooden door creaks open painfully slow. A worn out pair of white sneakers fit around a dainty pair of feet cross the threshold and onto the wooden floors.

All weapons lower immediately in shock as they gape at the sight before them. Standing across the room in a brand-new wardrobe and slightly longer hair blending perfectly with her usual bleeding nose and fierce look in her eye was none other than El.

Her eyes scan the small crowd of familiar and unfamiliar shock-ridden faces until they land on the one she had never stopped dreaming about. Her heart skips a beat when she does not seem him at first before bursting altogether when he steps out from behind Hopper's towering frame.

His widened eyes are swimming in tears as he gazes at her as of she were mirage. Her hard and concentrated glare melts immediately into vulnerability as she meets his eyes, feeling eerily similar to him as if he would inevitably disappear as soon as she woke up.

And instantaneously, matching bright smiles break out on their faces when they know.

Neither of them were dreaming, and at long last, they had finally found one another again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

PLEASE!!! Don't stop fighting for black lives. This has been said a thousand times and it shouldn't have ever needed be said in the first place but just because it isn't on the news as much anymore, that it's not "trending" anymore doesn't mean it's over. Please continue fighting back and doing what you can. Links below as usual.

Protect Protestors From Federal Officers

[my city of Portland is not the only one to face this, as there are plans of using this tactic on other cities trump views as a threat. Please help!]

[Link]

Black Trans Education Foundation GoFundMe

"We're raising money to provide $3,000 scholarships directly to 20 black trans students."

Donate if you can and please, please share!!

[Link]

rown & black businesses damaged by the protests

"In efforts to help Black & Brown businesses that were damaged during riots this weekend, @ buyblackatl and @ spoiledberry are raising money. Please share this, and if you or anyone you know owns a Black/Brown owned business that was impacted, please contact us. 🖤"

[Link]

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad​​ @aimee-lucass​​ @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa​​  @miscellaneoustoasts​ @happyandlonely-blog​ @missmulti​ @youpi-chan​ @peeperparkour​ @ba-responds​ @bibliophilesquared​ @blogforhoes​ @witch-of-all-things-soft​ @shawkneecaps​ @whothefuckstolemykeds​ @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​ @stranger-things4​ @heavenlycat567​ @nightbu-g​ @grapesauze​

DM me, or drop by my inbox if you want to be added!

[damienxsheppard]

Happy Accident ll Solomon & Damien

Timing: Some weeks back

Location: The woods surrounding White Crest.

Parties: @shroomsbysolomon & @damienxsheppard

Description: Nothing kindles friendship like a little murder. 

Solomon was generally a very patient being, but the same could not be said when something—or someone—was threatening his territory. Stirring from his slumber as the unmistakable crack! of an axe slamming into a tree trunk echoed through the woods, Solomon dashed from his unfinished home, warning Atli to stay put and assuring the cu-sith that he’d be back soon. Leaping through the forest toward the sound, Solomon took on his human disguise as he drew closer. “What are you doing?!” he bellowed as the human came into view. Startled, the man almost dropped his axe. The lit cigarette pinched between his lips burned brightly in the waning daylight, and the stink of alcohol radiated off of him. Solomon’s patience had already worn thin, and he took an aggressive step forward, repeating the question. The man stammered for a moment before releasing the axe with one hand to reach up and pluck the cigarette from his lips, scowling at Solomon angrily. “The fuck it look like, eh? Gettin’ some fuckin’ firewood! You wanna back the hell off?!” The Leshy appeared less than pleased with this answer, moving closer yet again. “Get out of here,” he growled, the paralytic thorn-like tips of his fingers emerging from his illusion. The man didn’t seem to notice this, which suited Solomon just fine. But then he was yelling again, waving his hand around and dropping his cigarette to the forest floor. Despite the recent wet weather, it apparently landed on something that’d dried during the day and was perfectly suited to quickly go up in flame. It was small enough, at first, but already Solomon felt alarmed. Not this again. “Put it out!” he hollered, too wary to approach the tiny blaze himself. The human gave a disinterested grunt, instead raising his axe and brandishing it at Solomon. “You get outta here, y’fuckin’ hippie,” he slurred drunkenly, completely disregarding the fire that had started to his left.

The woods around White Crest were typically so quiet, it was difficult for Damien to settle with the stillness of it coming from the bustle of the city. He had become accustomed to the sound of New York, so much so that since moving he had a hard time sleeping without such noise outside his window. Which led him here, Damien knew he’d struggle to find rest tonight so he might as well soak up what was left of the day. The crack of metal against wood echoed throughout the trees, it drew Damien’s attention to the source but he hadn’t felt compelled to follow it. Nothing all that interesting about some guy chopping trees. Then the shouting began, now that was intriguing. Damien turned to pursue the conflict, it had been days since he’d been in a brawl and the prospect of a fight lured him in. As he neared he caught sight of a small fire chewing through some of the terrain and two men in an argument over it. It seemed his potential opponent was nothing but a drunk and while the other man at a distance from the flame seemed more worthy of a challenger, for now, Damien was on his side. He enjoyed raising hell when possible but had grown to enjoy the woods and didn’t want to see it scorched. “Put it the fuck out,” Damien interjected, he moved forward intent on stomping the fire into embers but he didn’t make it far. He had only managed to raise his knee up before the stranger, clearly drunk and hostile, swung the axe at him. It was meant to be a show of force, he knew, but the edge had managed to graze the arm that rose instinctively to block a blow. Damien regarded the new mark that seeped blood before his glare dug into the drunken man. Now, he was ready to fight.

Dark eyes darting toward the newcomer, Solomon bristled with frantic energy. He hadn’t planned on murder today, but if it came down to that, so be it. Thankfully, the other person seemed to be of a similar opinion, and Solomon was allowed a brief second of relief—cut short by the drunk man’s holler as he swung his axe at the stranger. Breath caught in his throat, Solomon watched with wide eyes as the second man deflected the blow, at the cost of his own blood. Shouting something unintelligible, the leshy rushed forward, attention fixed on that axe. He had to get that thing away from the drunk before he was the one to commit murder. In response, the weapon was swung again, catching Solomon in the shoulder as he ducked low, tackling the drunk by his legs. They both tumbled to the ground, the axe still in the man’s hands, coated in bright red blood and something… stickier. Yowling in pain, Solomon rolled off of him, chest heaving—he’d never been injured like that before, and gods, did it hurt.

His attention quickly turned to the fire, the assailant beside him who was wrestling to get back onto his feet (presumably with the second man) forgotten for more pressing matters. In a moment of blind panic, forgetting his own weakness to fire, Solomon scrambled his way over to the small blaze and threw himself on top of it. Arms scooped whatever dirt and snow was near, pulling it beneath him to try and snuff out the flames. They licked at his cable knit sweater, penetrating the thick barrier to singe the vulnerable skin below. Smoke snaked out from beneath him, and though he could still hear a scuffle happening outside his field of view, he was too focused on making sure the fire was out. Finally, the heat died down, and he was able to push himself up out of the mud and dead foliage, looking down at the hole in his clothing. His skin appeared blackened rather than red and raw, like a human’s would be, and the smell of burning wood hung heavy in the air. One hand came up to press against the wound in his shoulder, angled dangerously toward his neck, and when he pulled it away again, thick strings of sap clung to his palm and fingers. With a haunted look on his face, he finally took a moment to see what the hell had become of the other two, blinking away the blurriness in his vision.

Something new, dark, and feral twisted inside Damien as blood ran down the length of his forearm. He did not know it now, but being a berserker allowed him to shift at will without the influence of the moon, but Damien thought the wolf in him a monster and chained it under human principles. He struggled consistently with control and now, with blood coursing from the wound, running down his arm to stain his fingers red, he felt the beast in him beg to be unleashed. It could raise hell, he knew, it could put an end to this little scrap immediately. But he wanted to do this his way.

The sober man rushed forward, absorbing the blade of the axe to bring the drunk to the ground. Bloodshed layered their brawl and something...else. Damien had no concept of the supernatural beyond his own species and didn’t understand the substance that oozed from the stranger, but he did recognize the agony in his cry and was quick to react. He seized the man by his shirt, entangling his digits into the fabric and ripped him from the ground before the drunk had a moment to pursue the other who leapt to extinguish the fire. Damien drew his arm back, bringing it down with as much force as he could to crash his knuckles into the drunk’s face. His head shot back from the blow and satisfaction, pure and simple, rippled from the impact his fist made. The aggressor stumbled back giving Damien a moment to regard his ally, “are you—” Damiens stopped, eyes widening as he observed Solomon. In the fight it had been easy to overlook the wounds inflicted on the other but now, as something sticky clung to his fingers, with his scorched chest exposed, Damien struggled to find something human to use to excuse his condition. “What the fuck,” his sentence was cut short as the assailant regained his footing and took a blind swing with his axe at Damien. The sharp edge ripped over Damien’s torso and he felt the need to unleash the wolf burn into the wound, his eyes flared golden and he clenched his teeth.

The drunk swung again but now Damien’s attention was narrowed on him, he ducked, the axe missing and digging into a tree instead. This asshole could have taken his head off. The blade ran deep into the oak and was not so easily freed when the man tried to yank on it. Damien surged forward then, hurling his fist into the man’s stomach.

A ragged breath hissed between clenched teeth, punctuated by a low groan as Solomon tried to pick himself up off the forest floor, only to reel back again. His head was swimming, the burn on his chest reaching deep, spreading pain through his entire body. He had no idea what his limit was when it came to physical trauma, since any and all confrontations he’d had with humans in the past had always resulted in their swift death. But in those cases they were typically alone, and there was no reason for Solomon to have tried to fight them like one of their own.

Glancing up when he heard the other man’s voice, recognizing that confused (or was it horrified?) look on his face, Solomon sighed. He still had a lot to learn about presenting as human, didn’t he? It hadn’t even occurred to him to glamour the wounds as well, and remove the other’s suspicion. But then—that was odd. He watched in fear as his ally nearly had his head taken off, croaking something in protest as he tried to wobble to his feet again. Leaning heavily against a tree beside him, Solomon took a few deep breaths and watched while one man laid the other out, swallowing the pain and pushing off the trunk to lumber over in their direction. With the drunk human now doubled over in pain from the punch to his gut, Solomon had no trouble grasping the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t again pressed to the gaping wound in his own shoulder. Hidden by his illusory magic, Solomon pricked the human’s skin with the thorns that protruded from his fingers. Within the minute, their assailant was toppling to the ground, paralyzed.

Safe now, Solomon squinted his eyes shut and dropped to the ground, leaning against the tree trunk that still had the bloody axe sticking out of it. After a few beats of labored breathing, he opened his eyes to look at the stranger, giving him a nod. “You… alright?” he asked, his voice strained.

Now this was the style of fighting that Damien preferred. No axes. No tricks. Just a pure need to unleash some sort of hell, brawl with no weapon save himself, as the drunk doubles over and something close to satisfaction echoes in his veins. It is really the only thing that prevents the animal in him from breaking loose, the blade’s edge had ripped at his skin and provoked the wolf caged inside to reply with violence. Damien didn’t want to let that creature out, wanted to stay himself for as long as he could. But the fight is brought to a close before he can even consider what kind of punishment he can beat into this drunk for the marks he’s left on his skin, the stranger grabbed the back of the assailant’s neck and moments later the man is on the ground. Damien watched, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. He had wanted the fight to last longer and now he was left only to chase the emotions it had kindled.

Damien turned to watch as the stranger sank exhausted against the tree the axe remained trapped in. He could not so easily forget what he had witnessed and for a moment Damien considered the weapon above Solomon’s head. Would he need it? This guy didn’t exactly look like he was in the condition to fight anymore. Then the man asked if he was alright and Damien refrained from taking up the axe. He did not take his eyes off of Solomon to consider his own wounds, pain was something he had long become accustomed to and while the gashes to his arm and torso throbbed in agony he did not move to address them.

Instinctively, Damien knew he should just abandon the scene. Leave the forest and try to forget what he just saw, it was the safe route, but he had never been one to follow caution. Slowly, Damien approached the stranger, knelt down in front of him, and rather reluctantly, pulled his hand away from the wound to his shoulder. He had to know. “What…” he reached to let his hand not stained in blood graze the gash, pulling away sap, “is this?” Was this some sick trick? It wasn’t dark enough for him not to be able to see what stuck to his fingertips. “What are you?”

Solomon didn’t miss that look of defeat on the man’s face, taking it into consideration as he wallowed in his own self-pity. He’d seen it plenty of times before in the faces of those that would oppose him, and equally as many times from the frowns of his kin, so to speak, when he similarly removed their opportunity to defend themselves and their village with such outright ferocity.

He hadn’t been raised a violent creature (surprisingly), and sometimes that drive to find peaceful resolution still clung to him by threads, but… the more time passed, the more he encountered humans like the one now slumped in the snow and leaves, the weaker that connection became. In this particular moment, another thread had strained and snapped. Though he was taking a moment to address the stranger’s questions, he had already resolved that the form laying just a few feet from them would not be getting up again.

Giving a sheepish shrug, Solomon appeared apologetic. “Bad at pretending to be normal…?” he offered, knowing that answer wouldn’t be good enough. With a grunt, he rested a hand over his chest where the burn mark had scorched his bark, exposing it beneath the guise of flesh. “It’s tree sap… and  I’d tell you what I’m called if I knew,” the leshy added, still lacking an actual term for whatever he was. “I live… near here. In the forest.” His brown eyes darted over to their incapacitated friend, and he gave an irritated grunt. “Saw the way you reacted when I paralyzed him. Please, by all means… finish the job. If you don’t, I will.”

Tree sap. Damien’s eyes narrowed on the stranger as if his harsh gaze could pierce the truth. The only problem was, he didn’t think he was lying. The matter that coated his fingers felt like tree sap, it even clung to his skin like it would if he’d obtained it from a tree. The problem was he didn’t actually know how to piece together the facts he had acquired during this encounter into something that seemed sensible. Something that could be explained devoid of all supernatural principles. He came up empty.

For a moment, Damien felt frustration urging him to snap as he was confronted with what the stranger was, but then he revealed he didn’t know what he’s called. The sense of uncertainty was something Damien knew too well, and it disarmed him. He wouldn’t attack the other, not yet. As the man pointed out, they had an audience, a member the wolf was not fond of. If his ally had been human the attack from the axe would have probably been fatal and if Damien hadn’t been quick to react he would’ve lost his head. He didn’t want to see a man who had tried to kill him walk away.

Damien stood, tore the axe from its place in the tree and reviewed the wounded man, “how do I know what happens here will stay buried?”  

Still sitting back against the tree trunk, Solomon tilted his head back against it to look up at the spot where his ally had just ripped out the axe, frowning. Slowly, his gaze was drawn downward by the question, raking over the man now wielding the weapon, standing over their attacker. “Well, if it will make you feel any better, I plan on taking a few pieces of him with me,” the leshy answered calmly, pressing a palm to the ground. The roots of the tree he was leaning on began to grow up toward the surface, bursting through the dirt. One of them, the largest of the bunch, wound its way through the air toward his injured shoulder.

“Don’t much feel like telling people you killed him if I’ve got bits and pieces of him laying around the homestead.” The root snaked around his arm, twisting and curling and disappearing into the wound. “Human bones are hard to come by these days, and I do have a fondness for decorating with them.” Unbothered by the intruding plant, Solomon actually seemed to experience relief from his pain as the root of the tree became a part of him, mending the wound and halting the flow of sap. Thankfully for his ally, this bizarre self-healing act was hidden mostly by the sweater he wore.

Damien’s eyes set sharply on his ally, he weighed his reply and felt the heaviness of the truth in it. Oddly, he assessed that the stranger’s response did not sound like a confession, it had a sort of casual ring to it as if he’d never considered anything wrong with taking the pieces of this man home. Damien found something lethal about his companion, even though he knew he should steer clear of the man he felt intrigued. He found himself curious as to who and what this man was. It seemed his ire was only directed at the drunk and Damien assessed this violent nature only surfaced when provoked.

With the certainty his actions would remain out of police files Damien turned his full attention to the paralyzed drunk. Maybe if he was younger he would have forgiven their assailant for their actions, but Damien wasn’t prone to mercy and found revenge much more obtainable these days. A part of him was admittedly disappointed the man couldn’t stand to fight, but this wasn’t the first time he carried out an execution. Fingers grazed the head of the axe to judge its edge, it would not be sharp enough for a clean break and he surmised the severity of their injuries was mostly due to force. Damien grabbed the man and moved him onto his back, his front exposed and facing him. “You should have just put the fucking fire out,” he nearly growled, bringing the axe up over his head and down, driving it with his strength into the drunk’s chest. The dying gasp of the man was drowned out by the crack of his bones breaking under his blow, the blade carved its way into his chest cavity, digging through till it lodged into his heart. Damien felt the organ beat furiously twice against the grip of his weapon before it gave out. Blood from the force of impact had lurched forward and splattered Damien’s face and form, something feral and viscous caged beneath his skin savored the bloodshed. He tore the axe free from the man’s body and hacked the man’s chest once more, just to ensure he wouldn’t be getting back up.

A cold, indifferent gaze was set upon the human who lay paralyzed on the forest floor, aware but unable to react. Solomon remained quiet as he watched the man's eyes widen with fear as Damien flipped him onto his back, bright green orbs shifting to stare, terrified, at his own tool that had now been turned against him. A slight smirk played at the leshy's lips when his ally muttered those final words, the terrible reality of their mutual decision to take this life overshadowed by an inflated sense of righteousness.

He could grow to like this fellow.

Healed enough to get back to his feet, Solomon pulled himself upright with the assistance of the tree, grunting with the effort. A short, hobbling step was taken toward the now-corpse, admiring the way the blood spread in the snow, a vibrant red in a sea of white and brown. Clapping a hand over the stranger's shoulder, the fae gave him a solemn, approving nod. "I'm Solomon, by the way." There was a brief pause as he let his eyes rake over the man's form. "... you've got red on you," he observed with mild amusement.

Damien watched as blood flowed from the lifeless body, reaching out to stain the ground. Something beneath his skin twisted at the sight, eager and ravenous, the wolf in him gnawed against the restraints Damien had tangled around it. He could feel it, the way his bones ached, begging him to let them break, to let the monster out. Fingers tightened around the axe till his knuckles bared white against his skin. In one violent jerk, Damien freed the weapon from the man’s chest, the damaged heart glaring past broken bone till blood poured from the fracture.

It was only when Solomon placed his hand on him that Damien was pulled from his thoughts. He had never been very good at restraint but he managed to hold the wolf in him back with his muddy principles and grief. “I’m Damien,” he replied, eyes dropped to review his image. The wounds he had acquired from the fight were all but healed, the only blood left on him now was not of his own. Damien preferred how his body behaved when he had been simply human.

“I can’t go back into town looking like this,” the locals seemed to accept how lethal this town was but Damien didn’t think the police would take to his appearance now fondly, “you said…this is your home. What do we do with him now?” he gestured towards the still body, “and where can I wash this off?”

Something about Damien was peculiar, though Solomon did not have a name for it. The anger came off of him in waves, and strangely, drew the leshy in. Curious by nature, and happy to have someone dispatch troublemakers for him, Solomon found his continued presence not just agreeable, but welcome. He had witnessed all sorts of rage in his time, and there was no particular reason that came to mind as to why he should brand this one as any more or less dangerous than the others. But it did intrigue him.

“No, no… you’re right about that,” Solomon agreed with an easy smirk. “Come on, I’ve got a stream plenty deep enough for you to wade through. And he—” the leshy bent down to wrap his arms around the human’s thick middle, hoisting him up over his shoulder with a grunt, “—is coming with us. Bring that axe.”

It wasn’t a great distance to his clearing, and the blood had barely begun to dry as they stepped through the trees. The beginnings of a stone house stood off to one side, opposite a decently sized brook. “This is quite fortuitous, actually… my companion, Atli, much prefers human meat to the deer I often make him hunt instead.” A quick glance around the area told him that the cu-sith was off exploring, and he clicked his tongue. “I’ll have to put it on ice, don’t want the poor thing getting sick,” he mused, making his way over to a snowdrift and dumping the body unceremoniously into it. He then looked to Damien, holding out a hand expectantly, gaze falling on the axe. “Go on then, wash away your sins.” The gentle tease was married with a little grin, and once the weapon had been handed off to him, he rested the blade gingerly against the corpse’s neck. “So, Damien… what was it that brought you to my woods? Bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

It was odd how Solomon looked at him. He knew the pair of them had agreed to this act but the casual way the creature beside him approached, despite the blood that coated Damien’s skin and the body that laid at their feet was...reassuring. His gang used to have the same ease to their steps when they met him despite the violence they knew he was capable of, and it seemed Solomon as well was unperturbed by his nature, it was evident enough in the smirk that grew on his lips. Damien hadn’t even realized that his frame, formerly tense and armed for another fight, relaxed just slightly. Watching the other male collect the corpse, Damien gave a nod and followed.

They arrived at the clearing, the wolf raised an eyebrow at Solomon as he revealed his lost companion had a preference for human meat. How many people had died by his hand? Or did he simply collect the remains of those left in these woods? The axe is deposited in the other’s hand, his immediate interest in cleaning the blood from his form. The lightness of Solomon makes the wolf think of his fallen friends once more, but it is a welcome contrast to his own demeanor.

“I don’t know really,” he began in reply, letting the cool water twist around his fingers, washing away the blood before he pooled it in his palms and splashed his face. “Where I used to live there wasn’t a forest, we had a park but it wasn’t like this. I like getting to see the difference.” He stood, returning to Solomon, his features clean. His clothes were terribly stained though that would be easily masked when he buttoned his coat. “Do you often do this?”

“Ah, I see. That’s fair enough, the woods are the best place to be. Can’t fault you for wanting to give it a thorough look,” Solomon agreed readily, nodding his head. Giving Damien a quick smile of approval, his eyebrows rose as his gaze fell back to the body in the snow. “What, kill people?” He raised the axe into the air, enough to bring it back down with surprising force, burying it deep into the corpse’s neck. The perfectly white snow was marred by red, great streaks and splashes on a bright canvas. “Not really.” He yanked the tool free, bringing it back down for a second whack, and then a third, until the head finally rolled free. “Or do you mean specifically cutting them up into bits?” He looked back to Damien, wearing a bizarre, lopsided grin—one that simply didn’t fit the situation. “Not that, either. Never owned an axe before. But I like the skulls, so I wanted to keep this one before Atli starts munching on it and ruins it.” Reaching down, Solomon propped the bloody axe in the snow beside the body, and gripped the tufts of sandy blonde hair that clung to the dead scalp, lifting the head away from the ground to give it a good look. He only spared it a few brief moments before returning his attention to Damien. “Why… do you?”

Damien watched with a certain detachment as Solomon brought the axe down repeatedly till he severed the corpse's head from its frame. The blood stained the landscape and he knew it would be absorbed into the earth, their crime concealed by the natural cycle of their environment. His lack of response to the decapitation eluded to his familiarity with violence, Damien’s interest laid less with the dead body and more in the man cutting away at it. If the wolf’s impersonal reaction to murder made any sort of statement then Solomon’s grin and bright tone drafted a book and he was far too keen in a chance to read it. The certain ease Solomon had at managing a crime and discussing manslaughter made Damien irrevocably drawn to him. Murder really was the quickest way to make friends. When the question was returned to him Damien considered it briefly before answering honestly, “I might.” He had come to White Crest for a reason, he wanted to find the people who had ripped his life apart and bring them to a horrible end. He wanted to do his worst. “Why do you like the skulls?” he couldn’t help but ask, curious to hear if there was a purpose for it.

Glad to see that Damien had no adverse reaction to his hacking away at the human’s neck, Solomon immediately felt at ease around him. Granted, Damien had been the one to do the murdering (technically), but still, there were certain lines everyone had that they wouldn’t cross.

Not that long ago, Solomon would’ve thought that beheading a stupid, drunk, relatively innocent human would have been one of his own. But… it had been self defense, right? In the beginning, anyway. The rest didn’t matter, the man was dead now, so there was no sense in worrying over the morality of it.

I might. The candid answer, while still vague, said all it needed to say. Solomon gave a knowing smirk, moving closer to his new friend. “Oh, they make excellent decorations, once you get rid of that pesky lower jaw,” he explained. “I’ve always had a fondness for them… not just human ones, either, though I’m less inclined to kill an animal just for its bones.” He gave Damien a shrug, tossing the head into the snow again near the foundation of the unfinished structure that sat in the clearing with them. “Today was quite the happy little accident.” He looked back to the other, nodding his head in the direction of the nearest road, which wasn’t that near at all. “You live in town?”

Damien let his gaze drift over the establishment, looking for these decorations as Solomon called them. He did not miss the fact that the other seemed more reluctant to kill animals than men, and briefly he was made to reflect on his own nature. What would Solomon say if he saw the creature beneath his skin? When Damien shifted back into the body he was more comfortable knowing, he could never recall what he had done when he was a wolf. There were moments before and after, but very few glimpses in-between. All he knew was he always woke with the taste of blood clinging to the back of his throat. Maybe the treeman had collected more bones from him than even he knew.

A faint smile grew on his lips, the kind made with ease that their murder would remain undocumented, clearly discarded as the head was tossed in the snow. Just a happy accident. Damien took a few steps forward to meet Solomon, “I do, and I should be getting back now before it gets dark.” The twilight in the woods was fading into dusk, if he didn’t leave now he wasn’t sure he’d find his way back. Reaching out, Damien took Solomon’s hand and shook it once, “I’m glad to have met you today Solomon. If you’re ever in town, let me know, and if I ever encounter another…” eyes dropped briefly to the blood in the snow, “accident. I’ll let you know.”

As Damien turned to leave he realized the last contact between the two had placed a layer of blood on his hand, acquired from the spray left from the beheading. It did not bother him the way it should.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

ISA family will be distraught if their platonic obsession is died, but what if the reader faked their death with help of others and escaped the family through this mean and lives peacefully elsewhere? How will ISA parents and kids react and do if they found out the truth?

They all are going to be on varying levels of betrayal and rage. How could you do something like that to them? They mourned you, they cried over you and you were alive the whole time!?!?!

Jordan is betrayed, enraged, and also relieved all in that order. He was so heartbroken when you had 'died' but now he knows you're alive!! He'll take sometime to gather himself so he's not too emotional when he comes for you. He doesn't want to scare you, cause there is no way you willingly left him and Cam, right? I'm a little conflicted cause I feel like he could be very delusional in this situation but I also feel like he'd be more aware of the truth behind your 'death's. Hell, he's probably conflicted too. He would be messed up just like he was with Christine's death, it'll only push him to achieve his goal all more. I think that may be where the delusion comes into play, he may honestly believe that someone, probably the JSA, put you up to faking your death.

Cameron is beyond relieved when he finds out your alive it almost takes away from the fact that you faked your death, almost. He wants to go get you right away, to bring you home and hold you in his arms. He's missed you so much you have no idea what he, what they, went through without you. He'll be attached to your side once you're brought home. Jordan will probably send Cam into where you're living now cause there's no way you could be angry or hostile towards Cameron. He'll get you home quicker and in a much more gentle way then Jordan.

Brainwave would be beyond pissed when he found out you faked your death, you'll have a lot to deal with when he brings you home. And he WILL being you home. He won't give you the chance to put up s fight or to try and explain yourself, you list whatever empathy he had for you when you 'died'. You'll have to start over all your progress with him. You'll be monitored the second you step foot in the King house. You may as well be treated like Yolanda was with her family in regards to punishments. No phone, no contact with anyone besides him and Jr, and absolutely no leaving the house without either of them and that depends on if you get back in Brainwave's good graces.

Henry is going to be so happy when he hears your alive, but when he finds out you purposely faked your death then he'll be upset. He'll cry, scream, lose control of his powers, whatever way he can convey his feelings, he'll do it. You were his support in his time of need and then you 'died', he thought he had lost everything only to find out you're very much alive and living a life away from him. Hell, he won't even drag you back home, he may even fake his own death just so he can come live with you. He would have ran away with you if you had told him your plan. I also feel like Henry would be a little delusional to whole situation, maybe thinking or you telling him that you did it to get away from Brainwave, he would probably believe it even if your thoughts said other wise.

Paula and Larry are going to be enraged when they find out, but they're also very relieved. They don't really care for the reason why you did it (yes they do but that'll come up when they get you home) they much rather prefer that you're alive and healthy. Have you been sticking to your workout regimen and protein shakes. They brought you one and a protein bar for the road back home. They'll completely dismiss the whole faked death thing until they get you back home, that's when they start to show their anger and hurt. How could you just leav them like that and to fake your death, too?? How cruel are you?? Can't you see that you hurt them?? As much as they're happy you're back, there will be yelling and restrictions. But they'll act like life is back to the way it was before you 'died', acting like the whole thing never happened. I also feel like they would be pretty delusional about the situation too, believing that someone made you fake your death and abandon them. Hell, that could be your excuse for everything and they may just believe it.

Artemis probably shutdown after you 'death's, you were the only real person she was close to. She probably doesn't even believe her parents when they tell her you're very alive and well living a few states away, you wouldn't have done something like falling your death just to get away from them, right? She's definitely hurt and feels betrayed but she is happy that you aren't really dead. She won't leave your side once you're home, she'll watch you like a hawk. Anywhere you go, she's right there. The Crock's all together wouldn't leave you another chance to get away from them again.

I feel like Dragon King wouldn't be very surprised or shocked finding out you aren't dead. He may even feel a sense of pride about how well you did getting away with it but that doesn't take away from his rage. You had made him believe that you were gone, even if it was for a brief period of time, he's still very upset. He may even send Cindy to bring you home just so you can get a taste of what he's had to deal with sense you 'died'. You will be brought back home though, he'll drag back himself if he has to. You'll be tortured and 'reformed' to the point you don't want to leave your oh so loving 'father' and 'sister' again.

Cindy basically lost her shit when you 'died'. She was heartbroken, mourning you all day everyday. She was angry when she found out you faked your death. She's happy your alive and moving but her anger outweighs that relief. How could you just leave her when she needed you most? The two of you were supposed to be as thick as thieves, you didn't have to abandon her, especially not by faking your death. She won't trust you for a long while, she'll watch your every move. You'll even wake up to her just staring down at you, both to make sure you're still there and alive but also to make sure you know just how fucked you are if you ever try to do something like that again.

William would be heartbroken, he thought you were finally taking to the family. Your 'death' will hit even harder if this is after Joey's death, finding out you faked it would be even more heartwrenching to him and Denise. William would do everything in his power to bring you home. You won't be let out of either of their sights, you'll be monitored 24/7. They both will coddle you, holding you close all the time, especially at night. You're all they have after Joey, they aren't going to lose another child, not again.

Joey would be utterly heartbroken, he's just glad you're really alive and okay. He'll hold you really close, not letting you go once William William brings you back. He'll follow you around like a lost puppy. He'll even perform little magic tricks to make you feel better about being back with the family. Joey would definitely sleep in your room with you once you're back. He and his parents slept in it when you were gone. He'll make you feel guilty for abandoning him and his family, whether he means to or not.

Anaya would be so relieved when she finds out your alive. She's still angry about you faking your death but her relief outweighs all her anger and sadness. She's elated to bring you home again, home to her and Isaac. You'll have to gain all your privileges back but she'll shower you in love and affection while you go about doing that. She's just so happy your safe and sound back in her arms, she and Isacc missed you so much. You have no idea what it was like with you gone.

Side note; Could you imagine faking your death with the JSA only so you can join the ISA???

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 39 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Things were looking rocky for Violet and Sutan.

This Chapter: Sutan tries to get some answers.

***

“I would ask what you’re doing here-” Violet was looking straight ahead, her spine perfectly straight, “but I assume that that’s an Elite model.”

“Correct.” Sutan barely kept himself from shifting from foot to foot as he stood behind her, his hand curled into a fist inside of his suit pocket.

It had been less than a week since he had last seen Violet, less than a week since he had kissed her, but it felt like forever.

“I was hoping-” Sutan bit his lip, keeping his voice low, nodding to one of the Galactica employees who walked by him, keeping up pretense that this was perfectly normal, that he wasn’t talking to Violet at all, but simply standing behind her.

He had no idea what he was hoping for, had no idea why he had gone along with Raja’s insane plan, but he had to know, had to figure out what had happened between them. “Violet, can we talk?”

"I'm at work." Violet didn’t look back at him, but she wasn’t walking away either. He had never experienced her so standoffish before, had never not been near the center of attention when he was around her.

"So am I?" Sutan wanted to take a step forward, wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated.

"Then you're not doing a very good job at it."

Sutan clenched his fist, a flare of anger burning through him. He wanted to give into it, wanted to reprimand her for sarcasm and throw it back in her face, but he forced the emotions down.

“I just want five minutes of your time.”

"To do what exactly?" Violet shifted from one foot to the other, crossing her arms even as she still looked ahead.

"To discuss something I know you don't want me to say in public."

"Sutan-"

He wasn’t proud of how immensely satisfying it was to hear her waver, how good it felt to hear the quiver in her voice, but it meant that he was right, meant that somewhere, something had gone wrong, and that they had a chance to fix it.

"Please."

"Fine." Violet looked around the room, probably making sure that she could actually leave, before she turned and left. She hadn’t asked him to, but Sutan still waited for a few seconds before he followed her into the hall, making sure they weren’t acting suspicious.

Sutan looked left and right, wondering for a moment if Violet had bailed, but then, she was there waving him over as she swiped her key card, opening a door to an empty office, gesturing for Sutan to go inside.

“There.” Violet closed the door behind them, turning the lock before she looked at him. “Say whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, anger rearing its head once again. “You’re acting very hostile for an adult who thought it was cool to send a breakup text.”

Violet flinched, and Sutan had to force himself not to smile at the pain he had caused her, forcing his thumb in the wound so satisfying.

“And writing ‘Thank you for everything’? What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly that.” Violet crossed her arms, her lips set in a thin line. “Thank you. For everything.”

“So you meant it?”

“What gave you the impression I didn’t?”

“You’re seriously breaking up over a text?” It wasn’t often that Sutan could feel his control slipping, but it was impossible not to raise his voice. “Are you kidding me? Who does that?”

Violet didn’t say anything, and somehow, that only made it worse.

“Who are you? The Violet I know wouldn’t act like this, she isn’t cold or cruel-”

At those words, Violet flinched once again, Sutan apparently hitting her exactly where it hurt.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

The fingers on Violet’s upper arm tightened, digging into her own flesh, and for a moment, Sutan thought she’d really stay silent, that she’d refuse to say anything, but then, she spoke.

“Maybe you don’t know me.”

Sutan snorted, the response so bratty and selfish. “Apparently not.”

This time, instead of a quick flinch, Sutan saw Violet’s entire face crumble, her eyes widening, hurt radiating from them before she managed to resculpt her expression.

“I, I know it wasn’t fair of me to send that text but I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t do it if I-”

It wasn’t much, but it was all the sign Sutan needed to be confirmed in the fact that they were making a mistake.

“Violet-” Sutan took a step forward, but Violet moved back, her back pressing against the door. “Let’s talk. Please.”

“No.” Violet shook her head. “I don’t think we should be together. This isn’t working.”

“I don’t accept that.” Now, it was apparently Sutan’s turn to be selfish, Sutan’s turn to be the brat. “We’re great together.”

Sutan couldn’t remember the last time he had essentially begged someone to stay with him, wasn’t even sure if he had ever done it, girls usually the ones begging him, but he refused to let Violet go without a fight, refused to let her think she could just slip away.

“I like you.”

“Stop.” Violet looked like she was about to cry, her nails digging in. “Stop saying you like me when I can’t be the person you want.”

“What?” Sutan felt like his brain rebooted. Couldn’t be the person he wanted? “What do you mean?”

“Do I have to say it?” Violet’s brown eyes were blank with unshed tears. “We don’t belong in the same world.”

“I thought we had already talked about this?” When he had found out that Violet was an assistant, Violet had voiced the same concerns, had told him that they couldn’t be together because of status, but Sutan had never cared about status, at least not status like this.

He had told Violet as much, had spent time with her in Paris which she hadn’t reacted to, so it couldn’t be status she was talking about.

“I don’t care-”

“Well I do!”

Sutan almost took a step back, Violet actually raising her voice.

“Is this about my age?”

Sutan knew he had asked, that he had asked more than once, but 18 years was a big difference, and it was the only thing he could think of, the only thing that made sense.

“No!” Violet’s eyes widened, a genuine expression of surprise on her beautiful features. “No, no of course not.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Sutan didn’t want to raise his voice, didn’t want to lose his cool, but he was dangerously close to it. “I don’t understand, and I’ve been killing myself trying to figure it out-”

“I’m not one of your IT Girls.” Violet threw her arms out, obviously beyond frustrated.

“.... What?” Sutan knew he had to be staring like Violet had grown a second head, but he couldn’t believe the words that had just left her mouth. “What are you talking about-”

“I can’t pose for photos or be online like Raven,” Violet bit her lip, one of her hands grabbing the sleeve of her shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric. “I can’t go to events with a moments notice in brand new clothes no one has ever seen before-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, no one’s asking you to-”

“You told me Monday,” Violet looked directly at him, “that I had to go to a party on Friday for one of the biggest fashion editors in New York.”

“Oh.” Sutan paused, feeling like an absolute idiot. “Was that the first time I told you about Bianca’s party?

“Yes!”

“Well shit.” Sutan put a hand in his pocket, chewing on his lip. He was so sure he had told Violet that they would be going together, and knew for a fact that he had told Bianca weeks in advance, but he also knew that he had a terrible tendency to forget to actually include others in his plans, Raja chewing him a new one in Paris for the fact that he hadn’t told Violet they would be at the dinner. “Sorry about that.”

Violet froze, her eyes narrowing. “Sorry?”

“Yes.” Sutan nodded. “Sorry. That was my bad.”

“I-” Now, Violet was the one looking at him like he had grown a second head. “How are you so calm?”

“How are you so calm?” Sutan smiled, throwing it right back at her. “At this point I’m used to girlfriends throwing plates at me.”

It was true. At this point, he would usually be defending his life in fear of flying objects or risking an eardrum from the excessive melodrama and yelling.

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“And?” He knew they were still fighting, knew that they were still arguing, but he couldn’t help it. “You could be, if you wanted to-“

“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?” Violet sounded genuinely frustrated. “I can’t be that IT Girl, I can’t do those things-”

“I have, and I don’t understand what the problem is?” Sutan shrugged. “You don’t need to be an IT Girl, you don’t need to act like something you're not. I haven’t asked you to be on social media, actually I kinda like that you’re not-”

Sutan knew he was going on a tangent, but for once, it was nice not to have to pose for photos, nice not to have an audience in his relationship, nice to know with absolute certainty that Violet wasn’t doing things with him for some sort of performance of a perfect lifestyle.

“-and if you don’t want to be in pictures, that’s not a problem either.”

“You’re not listening.” Violet almost groaned. “I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

“And you’re not listening to me. Violet. I don’t want you to be the person you think I want you to be. I just want you to be you. I like you, and I like us, and I like it when you’re my girlfriend.”

“Is that what you really want?” Violet looked at him. “For us to be…” Violet gestured vaguely, and Sutan realized that they hadn’t actually had that conversation yet, that they hadn’t made it official between them, but now that it was on the table, now that he knew Violet didn’t actually want to break up, he was absolutely certain.

“I’d like that a lot.”

“I’d like that too.” Violet smiled, and Sutan took a step forward, pulling her in by the waist for the kisses he had craved since arriving. He pushed her against the door, Violet moaning into the kiss, her fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Mmh.” Sutan hummed, pressing his body against her. It felt wonderful to drown in her, felt so good that he couldn’t help but reach out, his hand reaching for her ass, his hips thrusting toward.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” Sutan grinned, pausing as he put space between them, his right hand still grabbing a handful of her perfect ass. “Not sorry.”

“You,” Violet focused on him, her cheeks flush. “You have lipstick on your face.”

“Better kiss it away than.” Sutan smirked, capturing her lips once again.

***

“Mmmh,” Bob tapped his fingers against his mug, watching as Violet stepped up to the machine. Maxwell and Jovan were discussing their Halloween costumes, Jovan talking about some party he was going to in Brooklyn.

“Hey, Violet?”

“Yes?”

Bob had been in tailoring all day, overseeing the fittings. He couldn’t sew anything original to save his life, but he had a knack for the math behind it all, Bob in charge of purchasing and the more technical aspects of the project management they constantly did in design.

“What the deal with you and Sutan Amrull?” Bob asked, a sly grin on his face, Maxwell and Jovan going quiet the second he said Sutan’s name. Bob hadn’t been looking, but it had been impossible not to notice that Violet had mysteriously disappeared, Sutan sneaking out just behind her, Bob’s eagle eyes instantly seeing that Violet wasn’t wearing lipstick when they had returned, and he had been dying to ask her about it all day.

“Who?” Violet didn’t look away from the machine, pressing the buttons Jovan had shown her earlier. “Oh, you mean Raja’s brother?”

“Come on!” Bob snorted. “Tell us. Is something going on there? I saw you leave-”

Violet paused, her fingers around the mug she had selected.

Jackpot.

“And I saw you come back with no lipstick on.”  Bob grinned, his fingers almost tingling with the excitement he was feeling. “You were wearing lipstick this morning.”

“If this is true, I’m filing a complaint.” Maxwell smiled, crossing his arms. “Sutan Amrull is so hot.”

Bob wiggled his brow, thankful for the fact that Maxwell played along, his boyfriend always knowing exactly what to say in his own weird way.

“You think?” Violet picked up her mug, blowing on the hot beverage. Her face was impassive, but Bob swore he could almost see a smile play on the corner of her lips.

“I would climb him like a tree.” Maxwell smirked, causing both Violet and Jovan to laugh, Violet leaning against the table.

“Now come on Chachki!” Bob urged, hoping that Maxwell had buttered her up. “Spill the tea.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Violet took a sip of her coffee, and if Bob hadn’t seen them, he’d have almost believed her.

“So why was he in the same photos as you at that party?”

“How would I know?” Violet gave a sweet smile, lifting her mug before she turned around and walked back to her desk, Bob equal parts offended that she wouldn’t answer, and impressed with how well she had wormed her way out of it.

“I will get to the bottom of this, ma’am!” Bob yelled after her, looping an arm around Maxwell’s shoulders, pulling the man against his side.

“So,” Bob looked at the other two, Jovan swinging his legs as he was sitting backwards on a chair. “They’re totally fucking, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” Jovan raised a brow.

“You share a workstation! You should know everything about her!”

Bob loved his job, and he liked being a manager, but if there was one thing he hated about his position, it was the fact that he had his own desk and his own space.

“Yeah, we haven’t really discussed who she’s banging.” Jovan wrinkled his nose. “Sorry.”

“Well, I’m very disappointed in you,” Bob sighed, shaking his head sadly.

“I hope she is,” Maxwell grinned, reaching up and intertwining his fingers with Bob’s. “Someone should be.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Bob exclaimed, all three of them bursting out laughing.

***

Raja heard the door to her office open, soft music playing as she was attempting to fight the beast that was her email inbox.

“I’m busy.“ Raja has specifically told Ivy that she was unavailable for the rest of the day, but for all the great things her assistant was, insistent and firm wasn’t very high on the list.

“I found it.”

Raja looked up, a hint of excitement in Fame’s voice.

“Found what?”

“It!” Fame was smiling brightly, her lips red, her blonde hair curled, a tan coat over a white dress. “The inspiration!”

Fame walked over, sitting down in the chair in front of Raja’s desk, and Raja quickly saved the email she was writing, locking her computer since this could talk a while.

“Charles accidentally crushed one of our coffee mugs two weeks ago, so I’ve been meaning to replace them all.”

“Of course.” Raja hid a smile. It was so perfectly Fame, the woman somehow never done decorating or redecorating her house.

“I was walking around Sara, and that’s when I found it.” Fame reached into the small paper bag she was carrying, the sound of silk paper rustling when she dug into it. “Look!”

Fame pulled a ceramic cup out of the bag. It didn’t have a handle, the ceramic glaze a delicate light beige, little specks of golden freckles scattered all over it.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“I guess.” Raja took the cup, weighing it in her hand. She could see why Fame was attracted to it. It fit comfortably in her grasp, the craftsmanship of it both whimsical and to the point, the fact that it was handmade perfectly clear as Raja looked at it further.

“It’s what I want for the Spring collection.” Fame looked like she had just handed Raja the key, like she had given her a full portfolio of realized sketches, content and happiness radiating from her.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

***

“Coming in!” Violet giggled as Sutan pushed her, moving her out of the way so he could get back into bed. He had gone to get rid of the condom, Violet still naked under the duvet, and she knew she’d have to deal with it sooner or later, but right now, she just wanted to cuddle.

“Hey there.” Sutan smiled as she got into his space.

“Hey.” Violet smiled, tilting her head upwards for a kiss, which Sutan thankfully gave her, the man slipping underneath the duvet with her.

She loved being naked with Sutan, loved the feeling of skin against skin, loved the weight of his body when he pressed her down just like he did now, Violet’s legs falling open to allow him in.

She had come over right after work, Sutan undressing her before they had even reached the bedroom, her bra lost somewhere in the living room, but that hadn’t mattered when his hands had been roaming all over her body, those wonderful, wonderful hands.

Sutan tugged on her hair, and Violet moaned into the kiss, her hips stuttering at the electrifying pleasure pain, her toes curling.

“Huh.” Violet opened her eyes to see Sutan looking at her, his face illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Seems like someone liked that?”

“I-“ Violet swallowed, shame suddenly curling in her stomach.

“Hey,” Sutan smiled, his hand still in her hair. “I’m not judging,” Sutan leaned down, kissing her cheek. He wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, Violet was just about to open her mouth, to say thank you, when she felt a hot breath against her ear. “If only I could get hard again and fuck you like you deserve lovely eyes.”

“Oh-“ Violet swallowed a moan, her entire body suddenly flaming hot.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to pull your hair and ride you like a mare?”

Violet didn’t even register that she was nodding, wasn’t aware until she felt the warm chuckle, Sutan so close to her.

“How interesting.”

“I- I-“ Violet could feel how hard her nipples were, her pussy achingly empty and embarrassingly wet. “Hand.”

Sutan pulled back, leaning on his arms, a surprised expression on his face. “Hand?”

“Yes,” Violet reached up, her fingers catching Sutan’s forearm. “Hand.”

“Ah,” Sutan grinned, clearly catching on. “Hand. Of course.”

It was all she could think of, Sutan’s clever fingers buried deep in her, his thumb pressing against her clit, his lack of nails meaning he could touch and fuck and take in ways she’d never been able to herself.

“Please.”

“Your wish,” Sutan smirked, “is my command.”  

[ky-likes-sanders-sides]

Bridges Unburned

summary: There are lots of pranks that Remus does, but one seemingly tame prank elicited a harsh reaction from Dee. wc; 1,439. [Implied as a Human AU]

warnings: one harsh slap to the face (violence), cursing, crying, deceit being angry (no unsym), pants’ing in public, secondhand embarrassment, platonic into romantic.

Remus pranks his friends all the time. About half the time they’re done do Dee, and they both laugh it off afterwards.

This time, they were in Walmart and Dee was looking at clothes while Remus stood idly nearby. He’d been itching to prank Dee all day and he realized that his was the perfect moment to do it since the shorter man was distracted. 

Thinking of his options, he didn’t find that many good choices. He could taser him in his sides, but that doesn’t quite raise the stakes as high as he wanted. He could secretly steal his phone but that would make the other freak out too much. He could- oh. He could do that.

Silently standing behind Dee, he pondered if it should just be the pants. He also thought that wasn't quite his style. In one quick motion, Remus pulled the garments down and swiftly backed up a few feet.

Dee scrambled to pull his pants up off the floor. Remus was giggling until he saw the way the other reacted, frantic and desperate and panicky, which confused and concerned him. When Dee pulled his pants back up, he turned around and slapped Remus in the face so hard he knew it was going to bruise.

The sound was reminiscent of a gun shot it was so loud. It warranted the gaze of a few other customers and an employee.

He wasn't expecting that. Remus' pranks were tame enough to not warrant physical violence, so he can't wrap his mind around the fact that his face was stinging.

He especially didn't expect to see Dee's face turning into unfathomable shades of red and tears starting to form in his eyes.

An employee walks up and asks if there's a problem, and asks Dee if he wanted the guy to be escorted out.

The two hadn't broken eye contact since and didn't when Dee said, "Yes," in a broken voice.

Being escorted out of Walmart was one of the most embarrassing things Remus had experienced. He regrets it now, but he still can't wrap his head around the fact that Dee got so upset.

Roman's phone rang on the coffee table, and he picked it up to see his brother calling. He sighed, knowing Remus either wants something, going to ask a rhetorical question, or tell him about a meme.

"Yes, Remus?" He apathetically answered.

"I think I fucked up." is the first thing Roman hears out of his brother. No 'hey have you heard this of this new dance' or 'what if someone used butter as lube'. His tone wasn't normal, it was grave and shaky.

"What happened?" Roman said, concern seeping out of his voice. The worst things he could think of was his brother getting evicted from his apartment or accidentally getting someone else hurt.

"I- I pranked Dee and it didn't-" Remus sighed and continued, "I fucked up."

Instead of asking what happened again, Roman asked, "Where are you right now?"

"Outside of Walmart." His brother replied morosely.

"Why are you outside?" Roman said gently, he knew Remus didn't smoke so there had to be a reason.

"Because I got escorted out." Remus whispered. And to this, Roman wiped a hand down his face.

"Why were you escorted?" Roman muttered, Remus could hear the aggravation in his voice.

"I..." Remus choked on the words as his throat tightened.

"Please tell me. Were you guys in Walmart when it happened?" He asked, trying to be as sensitive as possible to his brother.

Roman knew his brother had a crush on their friend Dee, and that Remus wouldn't be so distraught if he had pranked someone else.

"Y-yeah." He choked, "It was. I pants’ed him. Boxers too. He smacked me."

"Oh, Remus-"

"He looked at me like I was evil."

"I'm so sorry, you must feel terrible. You need to talk it over with him." Roman replied, and it’s not like Remus couldn’t avoid talking to Dee in the future, but his stomach twisted at the thought of having to face the aftermath of whatever this was.

“I know.” He choked out once again.

-

Remus entered their apartment, heart rate through the ceiling, ready to feel the wrath of his best friend. Dee’s gotten angry at him many times before, but this felt different. He could feel the unfathomable anger from the doorway.

Dee was waiting for him, against the kitchen counter.

He walked past the kitchen doorway and notice the other standing there, as if he were a statue. He leaned against the door frame and decided on what to say. "At least it was uh, in the clothes section, so no one else saw." Remus muttered, looking guilty and at the floor.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! It doesn't matter if it was in the clothes section! It still happened!" Dee yelled, and Remus flinched. He supposed this was the right reaction since Dee got so upset, the other must still be working through some feelings.

"Y-you're right, I'm sorry." The genuine tone displacing Dee’s train of thought for about five seconds.

"Are you sorry?!"

“Wh-”

“You... You don’t say sorry when you do pranks.” Dee said, starting off strong but ended up muttering by the end.

“I didn’t expect you to react that way and I didn’t know that was out of bounds. I apologize. It will never happen again, Dee.”

"See, there you go again! You're being soft with me. Why?" Dee sounded defensive and accusative at the same time.

"Because I love and care about you?" Remus suggested, which left the other man sputtering.

"Okay, Ree, that's besides the point. You've been softer with me in general and I don't know what changed."

"...Because I love and care about you." Remus said again, more of a fact this time.

Dee sighed, slapping his hands against his thighs in exasperation. He couldn’t dance around the topic anymore, he felt bad about what happened. “That’s beside the point. Remus, I’m sorry I slapped you. I’m sorry for having you escorted out of Walmart.“ He whispered, only able to look at the other’s shoes.

Remus gave a small yet pitiful smile, “I forgive you, Dee. I just... I want to know why. I didn’t think you’d...” He trailed off, unable to recall verbally because of how tense the situation was.

“I owe you an explanation, you’re right.” Dee looked at him, straightening his shoulders, as if preparing to go to war.

“You don’t. You don't have to share something that might upset you."

"I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about how you would react to me." It was a monotone response, and Remus was confused.

"I wouldn't judge you. Ever." Remus plainly said, and with that, Dee let out a shaky sigh.

"Okay, I'm trans. I am a guy, I wasn't born that way. It freaked me out because what if someone saw and then decided to harass me or follow me home and try to kill me out of hate? I am afraid of social ostracization, I try so hard to be normal and yet-" Dee stopped to catch his breath, since his chest feels like all of the air has been pushed out of it. "And yet it doesn't work."

Dee had watched his face in his peripheral view the entire time and didn't see any hostility or anger or betrayal. All Remus did was slowly walk up to him and place his hands on Dee's face, wiping the tears away.

"There's really no such thing as normal. It's just a label they put on white middle class people with kids that live in suburbs. You, Dee, are far from normal, and I wouldn't have it any other way." He whispered near Dee's ear, not getting too close because Remus remembered the little things like how the shorter man doesn't like warm breaths against his ears.

Dee certainly noticed how Remus consciously chose not to get that close, and on top of Remus' statement, those two facts made him cry heavily, hiccuping between sobs. He's never felt so cared for.

Remus pulled Dee's head underneath his chin, holding his head against his neck and chest. Dee didn't let go for a long time, even after he stopped crying and after Remus comforted him by running his fingers through his hair, rubbing his back, and telling him it's alright.

Eventually, Dee pulled back when he was ready, and looked at the peaceful expression that Remus had. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek, Dee pressed their lips together gently, and for a moment, there was nothing so perfect in the world.