#tried to physically take damage for someone else when that was no way part of her class abilities

[iamnotawomanimagod]

Emily "I throw my body on top of them" Axford is truly living her best life, finally getting to play as a tank

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x batbro male reader

Reader is a magic user (like the scarlet witch), he often uses his powers during his normal day to day life too

He’s constantly found levitating off the ground while meditating, reading his spell book and using his powers to do simple things like making his bed etc

However his powers has a side effect, his powers hurt him sometimes as every time his emotionally unstable or upset his powers can take over but the rest of the family doesn’t know cause he never told them he simply cuddled up to them

One day after a bad argument the pain was too much to hold in and he desperately needed to let go of his powers to get rid of the energy

However he couldn’t do that cause it could damage the manor and hurt the others so he tries to hold it in trying to deal with the pain

He walked into the manor and looked for the first person he could find and simply hugged them

They knew his love language was physical affection but they never knew it went so far as to stop him from having a magical melt down

He tries to explained the issue to whoever he was holding on too and they started praising him and rubbing his back trying to make him calm down till they get to an open space where he can let go

Okay, that sounds cool. And lowkey Bruce coded.

Summary: (Y/N)'s magic is complicated.

Warnings: none really, mentions of an argument.

(Y/N)'s powers are something that he was born with, since his mother shared the same powers. Unfortunately, his mother passed away and (Y/N) came to live with Bruce and the rest of the family. And since Bruce didn't know anything about magic, he called in John Constantine and Zatanna to help him navigate his magical powers. They've been doing it since he was a child and by the time he reached his teen years, he could control his powers.

But magic is not without any consequence. Sometimes, his powers can hurt physically. And his emotional stability is important here. If (Y/N) gets upset, angry or anything else that causes emotional instability, they can come out. And not in a good way. His powers could get devastating and could hurt someone. Thankfully, (Y/N) had a good remedy for it. Cuddling up to his family to calm his nerves.

He never told his family that. However, it made for a good practice to control his emotions. But sometimes emotions can overwhelm a person, no matter how hard they try to control. Bruce knew that something was going on with (Y/N)'s magic, but he choose not to dwell on it. He knew that (Y/N) had a control on it and whatnot, but still.

Bruce is not particularly well versed in magic so he allows (Y/N) to make decisions on that part. And besides, magic is fun to look at. (Y/N) more often than not can be found using his magic in everyday life. Whether it be making his bed, getting a cup of whatever from the kitchen without even getting up from the couch.

But the one thing that the entire family can agree on is the fact that when he is meditating, he levitates, a spell book near him, also levitating, is creepy beyond belief. According to the others. Bruce tried not to be freaked out whenever he saw it, but it was hard not to be. Bruce was both fascinated and kind of scared.

The rest of the boys have shared the same sentiment. It was a fascinating power that (Y/N) possessed, but scary at the same time. And of course, who could say no to cuddles that (Y/N) asked for? Not even Damian could say no to (Y/N)'s cuddles. Not even Damian, the person who despises affection, can't say no to his cuddles. Dick would await the entire day just for those cuddles.

(Y/N) loved his family to bits because of their acceptance, no matter how weird he might look when doing magic. And Bruce has a magic consultant at home, which is great. You never know when magic can pop up in Gotham City. Anything can happen in Gotham City and that was something that every single Gothamite lived by.

Anything can happen in Gotham.

(Y/N) was driving home, pissed beyond belief. His high school classes were done and he got into a bad argument with his friend. He knew that his magic would explode, sooner or later if he didn't find his family in the manor. Something has been brewing in (Y/N) from the moment his woke up. He didn't know why he was feeling that way today.

But something boiled over during the argument and his magic was just itching to get out. And he knew he should let it out. He knows he should. But that would devastate a lot of space. So, cuddles are the only option he has left at this point in time. He parked the car in record time and rushed into the manor, looking for someone who could help him.

That someone was Bruce. (Y/N) didn't expect to see him. He thought that he was at work.

" (Y/N)? You seem stressed, are you okay? " Bruce asked, worried about his son.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, simply buried his face into Bruce's chest and Bruce hugged him. Bruce squeezed back tightly, not knowing what's really going on, but (Y/N)'s love language is physical touch so Bruce didn't really find it to be odd. And besides, he likes these moments.

" Sorry dad, I just needed a hug. "

" Never apologize for needing a hug. Or any affection. Okay? " Bruce murmured softly.

" It's... More complicated than that dad. It's connected to my magic. "

Bruce frowned at that, confused as to what he could mean by that.

" What do you mean? "

" My magic is tied to my emotions. If I get any negative emotions, my magic flares up and itches to be released and it can be devastating. I can hurt people. When that happens, I look for you or my brothers to get cuddles, " (Y/N) murmurs, explaining to Bruce, who nodded in understanding.

He start rubbing (Y/N)'s back softly.

" You did good (Y/N). It can't be easy to control so much magic, but you are doing well. Just relax, breathe in and out and anger and frustration will simply roll out. Okay? "

(Y/N) nodded and Bruce simply continued his praises to his son. " Also, the manor is a space where you can let go okay? This is a safe space for you. Although, I would like to keep the manor intact, " Bruce joked and (Y/N) laughed with him.

" I know, I would like to keep this manor intact as well dad. "

" But in all seriousness, " Bruce began, still rubbing his back, " This manor is a space where you can be safe. Feel safe. Where you can do your magic freely. And if there ever is a time where you feel like your magic is itching to get out, feel free to seek us out, okay? Don't hesitate, " Bruce said as he still rubbed (Y/N)'s back.

" I know that dad, I know. "

" Just making sure kiddo. Also, John Constantine might drop by soon enough. He says he has a new spell book for you, saying you will like this one too. Now, are you hungry? " Bruce asked as he lead (Y/N) to the kitchen.

" I am. Also, why are you home so early? " (Y/N) wondered, knowing that Bruce wouldn't be home this early.

" A big meeting got cancelled, so I came home. Now, sit down. Alfred made some great Shepherd's pie. " Bruce gently sat (Y/N) down at the kitchen island.

Soon enough, his brothers came home, tired and hungry. Dick was surprised to see Bruce home early, but didn't question it, simply sitting down as well.

" Hey B, didn't think you would be home so early. "

The conversation flowed from there and slowly everyone came home. Damian, Tim and Jason all showed various stages of shock. Damian simply nodded, Jason raised his brow and Tim let out a hum as they all sat down, hungry and ready to down some food. It's no easy task feeding 5 boys.

During the conversation, (Y/N) opened up to his brothers about his emotions and connections to magic, essentially repeating what he told Bruce about his magic. Everyone understood and knew that if (Y/N) needs cuddles, they are going to listen.

They don't want their home to be devastated by magic. They like this manor, believe it or not.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Female! Reader Phrases #2:

A/N: Continuation of the previous part.

-"When did I say you could go? I brought you here to cuddle you"- The yandere emperor will surely have summoned you one night to serve him, and seeing that you were trying to leave or looking for excuses to leave, he will have closed any door or window, or grabbed you by the wrist or another part of the body.

-"If you are in love with someone else, I will behead him without hesitation"- He is the yandere emperor, and he is capable of anything to have you by his side, including extreme physical punishments or the execution of your partner or fiancé.

-"You didn't know who was going to attack me or how, and yet you protected me that year and suffered great damage to your body. I really appreciate what you did and I want to make it up to you by letting you be my wife."- In a story about Yandere crown prince x maid reader, you probably served the yandere prince (who in the future would be the yandere emperor) closely, and due to the environment in which he lived, you had to watch his back many times, ending up being sometimes punished by other superiors and even tortured. The yandere prince KNOWS about your wounds and scars and now that he is an emperor, he tries to reward you.

-"I will take good care of you."- A more subtle and "kinder" way to make you understand that you will not leave the palace.

-"No matter what you are, you will still be mine. You can be my empress, my favorite consort or concubine; and if you want to be a servant, you will serve at my side, so your rank within this palace does not matter; you will NEVER escape from me."- Another stern warning from him. You are partly right; since if you are his empress, consort or concubine, you will have to continue serving or obeying him in everything. If you are a maid, he will purposely make you clean what he tells you, wash his clothes, follow him and take care of him; or he would put you to hard labor as punishment, until you beg him.

-"If someone dares to hurt you, I will punish the person responsible and their family."- Before, in an imperial family the issue of clans was very important and people like the empress, consorts and concubines were no exception (come on, not even the maids, guards or eunuchs were saved from it) and if they did something very bad, The emperor could punish them and their families or clans with whatever he wanted; from exile, loss of compensation and living conditions, to multiple executions.

-"Every item sent to (Y/n)'s palace must be meticulously checked."- The yandere emperor KNOWS that fights and intrigues occur in the harem that mostly end in murders, attempted murders, poisonings, accidents, false accusations and even attempted abortions by some concubines on others. He would do it with the excuse of protecting you and your possible child.

-"I can't wait to see you carry our children in your womb. That will unite us more, and make you more mine."- The yandere emperor wants to sleep with you and get you pregnant (if you are a woman), because he thinks that not only could a prince from your side be the future of the empire (or if it is a princess, he could form marital and political alliances), but He believes that with that you will not leave his side.

-"I feel delighted with every walk I take with you. Every talk, every laugh, every meal, every celebration and even when you sleep with me, I feel great; something I never experienced with anyone else."- The yandere emperor would love every moment with you; more preferably alone than in a group with his other imperial women.

-"Let these marks or scars be a clear warning in case you try to escape again."- The yandere emperor is strict with his rules, and the "no escape" rule is undoubtedly the strictest. Every time he sees you trying to escape he not only locks you up, but physically punishes you so that when you see the scars when you change or bathe, you have a memory of what will happen to you if you try to escape from him again.

-"I always collect every gift you give me, although there is one that I still fight for and that you still don't give me: your heart."- Yes, the emperor adored and appreciated either discreetly or indiscreetly each of your gifts; whether it was new clothes, new accessories, some painting on him, some sculpture, a show or simply personally playing an instrument for him. But he knows that you do it without love for him.

-"I promise you that I will take care of you and our son."- He would probably make you pregnant, and as soon as he found out he put you under all kinds of 24/7 care. He watched you all the time and had every gift, food, drink or medicine that came into your hands thoroughly checked.

-The end.

[moody-alcoholic]

Hurt

Summary: 2.7k words. Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: descriptions of injuries, medical procedures, mentions of surgery, medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort.

AN: Next part is the last part... It's a beefy one though.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

Simon is scared, more then he has ever been. He’s watching his husband bleeding out while someone else he loves is trying her best to save him. She’s no combat medic but as soon as Johnny’s body hit the floor she was by his side shoving her gauze covered fingers into his wounds. She barked orders at Price while he called an ambulance. 

“Ambulance should be here in 15 minutes.” Price says his phone still pressed up to his ear keeping the dispatchers updated. Gaz has been running round the house looking for first-aid kits, clean sheets anything she can use to make bandages. Her hands are shaking blood running down her face. Johnny nicked her ear when he shot at Jack, could have been worse at least he’s down. 

Ghost is angry, pacing the room his eyes burning into Jack wondering which would be more satisfying to break his legs or his arms? Ghost is listening to every word Price is saying waiting for new orders. It’s easier to be Ghost then Simon right now. 

“Here, I’ve got this!” Gaz says as he rushes back in the room. Price helps him open the green first aid kit pulling out bandages and handing them to you. 

“How long until the ambulance?” you ask your voice shaking, as you instruct Gaz to keep watching Johnny’s breathing. 

“They’re coming.” Price replies not giving a time. A lump forms in Ghost’s throat he swallows to get it away. Price moves over to stand next to him. 

“Pass me your phone I need to call someone to deal with all this.” Price says leaning in. Ghost reaches into his vest pulling out his phone passing it to Price. He pats Ghost on the shoulder then moves back to the other side of the room. A moan comes from the floor, Ghost’s head snaps to see Soap moving. That’s good right. 

“Hey, Johnny keep still.” You say as his arms make their way to the source of the pain. “Keep his head still.” You say to Gaz. He was shot in the back he could have spinal damage. Gaz moves so he can hold Johnny’s head. He’s come too that has to be a good thing you think as you he moans. There is no telling how aware he is but he know’s he’s in pain. You have to fight to keep his hands away so he won’t pull the dressing out. He’s mumbling incoherently as you hear the ambulance sirens that makes you relax a little.

“Ghost go get them.” Price says, you hear Simon leave the room. You look over at Jack. He’s stopped screaming and shouting. Price patched his shoulder up he should be fine. He should be dead. You push the thought away you need to focus on Johnny. His hand has found your thigh, you reach down with your free hand to squeeze it. His eyes find yours and he smiles as you hear footsteps running. The door bursts open and paramedics flood in. You hear Price hang up on the dispatcher as two of them come over to you. 

“What’s happened?” The male one says as he bends down opposite you unzipping his bag. 

“He was shot from behind, through and through. I’ve tried my best to stop the bleeding.” You explain squeezing Johnny’s hand, you hear more sirens as Simon leaves the room again. The paramedic is trying to get Johnny’s attention as the second paramedic comes to take over holding the gauze from you.

You let go of Johnny’s hand moving out the way as the paramedics talk with each other. You stand up as another set of paramedics and police pile into the room. Price goes over to talk to the police as he points the other paramedics over to Jack. You turn and watch as they look at his shoulder. Gaz gets up on his feet as you watch the paramedics work on Johnny, getting an IV in, giving him oxygen, pressing more bandages into his wound.

Your cheek starts stinging and it takes everything in your power to not touch it. Gaz comes over to you leading you out of the way and over to a chair, Simon and Price are talking with the police. Everything was starting to feel like a blur. You look down you’re sat next to Marks body, you keep watching the paramedics work on Johnny and Jack.

You hear the paramedics say there is a doctor here for Johnny. You can see biased on the equipment he’s hanging on. He’s put under and they intubate him. The doctor arrives a few seconds later he wants to do an en-route blood transfusion. Jack leaves first with the other ambulance crew and some officers following behind. He’s formally arrested, his eyes burn into you as you hear the charges read out. The rest of the officers start collecting evidence. 

“Do you need medical attention?” Someone says to you. You look up from Johnny to see an officer stood beside you. You shake your head looking back as the paramedics move Johnny onto a spinal board. Simon is by your side now. You’re crying, each tear that falls in your wound stings. At least the bleeding as stopped you think. 

“Go with Johnny to the hospital and get patched up. We’ll meet you there as soon as we’re done here.” Simon says. You can’t look at him, not with his mask on not while Johnny is still fighting for his life. You get up off the chair though and he squeezes your shoulder. You look round the room as you follow the paramedics out. Jack is gone, Mark is dead. The body in the hallway the person who shot Johnny has been moved and covered up. You look at Price who nods at you then goes back to talking to the officers. Ghost follows you out to the ambulance. You get in the front, you don’t even remember the drive. 

  ——————————  

Your body moves on autopilot. When you make it to the hospital Johnny is taken through to triage. You’re in the waiting room, you refuse help from the nurse who comes to see you. You just sit and wait, using tissues to dab your wound, if you move in the wrong way it starts bleeding again. You’ll need stitches but you want to make sure Johnny is okay first. You don’t want to miss the updates. You need to be somewhere Simon can find you when he gets here. You’re waiting nervously when a doctor comes over to you, he introduces himself and you stand up.

“We’re going to be taking him through to surgery, to remove the bullet fragments. We won’t know the extent of the damage until after we can open him up. I’ll send a nurse through to take a look at your face, you were also involved in the attack from what I understand?” You nod not having the energy to fight with him. 

“I’m okay, I would like to wait for-” you stop yourself, what do you even say? You want to wait for his husband? For Price and Gaz who you barely even know. How much does the doctor know? You realise you’ve not been paying attention to whats been going on since you were hands deep in Johnny’s abdomen. 

“The other people involved in the incident, they’re his squad mates, from the army. They would like to know he’s okay.” 

“I can update them as well if you give me their names but I do think that wound needs looking at, cleaned and bandaged up at the very least.” The doctor says. You don’t want to you don’t want anyone to touch you. 

“I would rather wait.” You say sitting back down. The doctor relents and tells you someone will be out to update you. You feel sick your stomach in knots. You wish you had your phone so you could text Simon. You don’t know how long Simon is going to be or how long Johnny’s surgery is going to take. He’s going to be okay. You tell yourself.    

He’s going to be okay.

  ——————————  

You’re woken to someone shaking you. You don’t even remember falling asleep it makes you jump and you almost fall out the chair. You look up it’s Simon, he doesn’t have his mask on. You look at him confused the pain coming back to your face. 

“You need to get that checked out.” Simon says kneeling down in front of you. 

“Johnny’s in surgery.” You say. 

“I know, the doctor filled us in, Price is talking with him now.” You touch Simon’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry I got Johnny hurt.” You say, you’re too exhausted to cry. 

“It’s not your fault.” Simon says reaching up holding your hand on his chin squeezing it. He stands up. 

“C’mon, Price bullied the doctors into finding a private room for Johnny, we’ll wait in there. And I’ll find a nurse to take a look at that cheek.” Simon says. You let him lead you too your feet as he wraps his arm round your waist. When you make it to the room it’s nice even has a sofa in the corner which Simon leads you too. He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with a nurse who cleans your wound. She says it’s going to need stitches, you reluctantly allow her to do them. By the time she is done and bandaging your ear and cheek up Price walks into the room. 

“The police need a statement from you.” He says looking at you. You look at the nurse and thank her as she tides up to leave. 

“Christ, can’t she have a rest they can talk to her tomorrow.” Simon says from the other sofa on the other side of the room. 

“It’s just a statement 5 minutes tops. They’ll bring you in for a proper interview later in the week.” Price says. You nod getting off the bed heading back over to the sofa where Simon is. You lay up against him he wraps his arm round your shoulder. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.” You say. He kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, we should have stayed at the house with you.” He says. You can hear the guilt in his voice. You don’t know what he’s more guilty about. You being kidnapped or Johnny being shot. You don’t want to leave his side wrapping your arms round his stomach. When the police officers come in they ask you a few questions take a quick statement then leave.

You see Price and Gaz at the door. You’re exhausted leaning on Simon’s chest. You pull your feet on the sofa a shiver runs through your body. You close your eyes breathing Simon in but all you can smell is blood.

  —————————— 

Simon looks over at you still asleep on the sofa tucked under the blanket he threw over you. They wheeled Johnny in from surgery a bit ago, said he might need a few minutes to come round. Simon moved from the sofa to a chair by the bed so he could hold Johnny’s hand.

He hates seeing Johnny like this, he hates seeing him hurt. His eyes periodically flick back to you, what if Johnny’s vest didn’t stop the bullet. What if it kept going all the way through to you. Simon pushes the thought away, he can’t think about that, losing the both of you is just too much. You’re safe, Johnny is safe, he’s safe. Johnny murmurs and Simon’s head snaps up, he sits up pulling his chair closer to the bed and squeezing Johnny’s hand.    

“Hey,” Simon says as Johnny turns to look at him blinking. 

“Christ, I feel like shit.” Johnny says pulling himself up in the bed. Simon gets up helping him arrange the pillows. 

“Stop getting shot then.” Simon says, Johnny smiles leaning back down in the bed. Simon kisses him on the forehead before sitting back down. Johnny looks past Simon to see you curled up on the sofa.

“How is she?” He asks, Simon looks back for a second squeezing Johnny’s hand. 

“She’s fine.” Simon says, Johnny sighs. 

“What about..” Johnny trails off, Simon knows who he’s talking about. 

“In custody, he’ll live.” Simon says.

“Should have aimed for the head.” Johnny says. Simon smiles, if he had aimed for the head he could have killed her.  

“How ‘bout you? You good?.” Johnny asks, Simon rolls his eyes, bringing up Johnny’s hand and kissing it.

“I’m good.” Simon says, Johnny looks doubtful. Simon Squeezes his hand, looking away, he’ll deal with his emotions later. 

“Si,” Johnny says forcing his eyes to meet Simon’s. “I love you.” 

“I love you too Johnny.” Simon says smiling.

“Johnny?” Your voice cuts through the silence and Simon turns to see you sitting up on the sofa. He gets up bringing over another chair for you. 

“Good to see you lass.” Johnny says enthusiastically, he’s awake and smiling. It’s all you need walking over to him and throwing your arms round him.

“Easy love, still got holes in me.” Johnny says wrapping his arms round your back.

“I know I’m so sorry.” You blurt out you can feel yourself welling up again. It’s happy tears this time. You feel Simon’s hand on your back as you pull away. 

“You ain’t got anything to be sorry ‘bout.” Johnny says his face serious.

“We’re sorry we left ya, didn’t think anyone knew where you were.” Johnny says. Simon’s hand leaves your back pulling on your wrist for you to sit down. You look at Simon, he looks tired. You take his hand and squeeze it. 

“I should have fought, you gave me the gun.” You say looking at Simon. “I tried to run instead.” 

“It doesn’t matter now, you’re safe he’s gone.” Simon says. You know there is more to it, with so many people involved it’ll be a while before their all punished. You’re almost happy Chloe isn’t around to see it. She would have had a lot to say watching her family be arrested and court marshalled for their involvement. You take Johnny’s hand in yours rubbing it with your thumb. 

“Thank you for saving my life love.” He says pulling you back to relativity, you feel yourself blushing. 

“Well I wasn’t going to let you die.” You say feeling embarrassed for some reason. Johnny brings your hand up to his face and kisses it. 

“I know, I love you.” He says. It warms your heart and you find yourself leaning up against Simon. You smile at him as Simon wraps his arm around you kissing the top of your head. 

“I love you too.” You say. 

“So how much medical leave do you think I’ll get this time?” Johnny asks looking at Simon.

“Pff, with the way you’re acting I bet you’ll be ready to go by next week.” Simon scoffs. 

“Aw, not even a week, you’re such a tight ass. You hearing this captain. Si said I’m only allowed a week off.” Johnny says as you see Price walk into the room. You sit up straight so you’re not leaning on Simon. 

“If you’re lucky.” Price smiles. Johnny shakes his head and you squeeze his hand. 

“Well then, making sure I’m fit and ready for duty?” Johnny asks.

“Thought I would give you an update.” Price says crossing his arms. 

“Jack, he’s out.” It’s like someone sucked all the air out the room, your head starts to throb where you were hit earlier. You squeeze Johnny’s hand. 

“How? It’s only been a few hours.” Simon asks.

“His lawyers work quick and they’re good.” Price says, he sounds sympathetic.

“But he kidnapped me, what about all the evidence you got?” You say looking up at Price, eyes wide. This can’t be happening.

“They did a good job at destroying it all, it’s going to take the police time to go through everything.” Price says. You feel sick, no way he’s going to get away with it. No way. Your ears start ringing as you hear Johnny and Simon talk asking questions Price does not have the answers to.

This can’t be happening.  

—————————— 

Next

I am very much aware that the police would have reasonable evidence to hold Jack and not let him out but hey it's just a story.

# fuckjack

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Salvatore | 2.8k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: DI!Leon Kennedy x younger f! reader ✦ Summary: Leon's on a working trip and it has been taking much longer than it should. As he doesn't like to spend much time away from you, he texts you daily, and since you miss him so deeply, you decide to videocall him. ✦ TW: NSFW, !MINORS DNI!, smut, porn with bit of context, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, masturbation, fingering, age gap mentions, daddy ass Leon

A/N: I have nothing to say in my defense, but that this might have two parts. Cause Leon's flying back home and dunno, you're still horny af, plus I wasn't sure of how to correctly incorporate the song to the post buttt I think Salvatore is my top 1 Leon song. So!

A disgrace of a man he had become ever since he met you, fell under your spell. Leon wasn’t used to staying away from you for this long — the trip was taking longer than expected. A week ago he had flown to Washington for the meeting of annual reports on DSO’s damage control. This type of trip did not usually take more than one or two days, and he had assured you that he would be back by the weekend. He had promised, you made plans and he usually did not breach the promises he made to you; he didn't like to fluster you. You were too good to him, he’d always tell you that. Too good, so good. You wouldn’t complain about his absence, you knew he was a busy man, a well-trained and well-requested agent — your much older boyfriend.

Every time that word danced on your red beautiful lips, he swore to feel a punch in the lower portion of his belly. Was he not too old to be dating in the most vivid sense of the word? To have a girl as young, beautiful, lively as you call someone like him a boyfriend? You liked to say, to recite; it made you delighted to watch the reactions, no: the age difference was never a problem for you.

It was a problem to him in the beginning. Leon resisted; he tried to resist you for longer than he could remember. Weeks maybe. He felt defeated, weak for giving up, but how could he not? When your eyes would met his with that devilish expression, all his control fell to the ground — he was yours.

The room door opened, and he made his way in. It was a spacious room, at least; a quality hotel. You would love that place, he thought. The luxurious furniture, the soft linen and the numerous pillows – the privileged view of the White House. He opened a corner smile as he thought of your reaction if you were there. You were one expensive little thing; before anything else, he took his phone out of his pocket and took a picture out of the window. He sent to your contact, affectionately saved by yourself as bae. 

Your status immediately changed to “online” when your phone rang and you noticed it was his text you were receiving. On the other side of the country, you opened up a foolish little smile lying on your bed. “Like it, doll?” his text said, and your smile grew wide.

You rolled down lying on your belly, and typed your answer.

“Don’t do that to me... I’d sell a kidney to be there with you right now.” you typed, and opened a smile knowing that you had ripped out a sincere laugh from him with your little hyperbole.

Leon laughed briefly. Your mood was indeed extremely funny to him, jokes that sometimes you would have to explain after doing, since the difference between generations was a barrier to the two of you at least in that matter. 

The agent left his already half tired body fall on the armchair that lay in front of the bed, large enough for at least three of him. The blue blazer that decorated his body was quickly thrown aside and he dropped down a few buttons of the white social shirt that came down below, the first portions of his now visible defined chest decorated by the blonde hair that grew around there. As he stretched out to the stand table — a small bar with a few varieties of whisky — and started pouring himself a good cup of Bourbon, his phone rang again. 

After the first drop came down burning through his throat, he opened the latest message you had sent. “Can I call you?”, it was asking.

He licked his lips tasting the taste of alcohol in his mouth, and pressed the FaceTime video call button. It took no more than three seconds for you to respond. 

His eyes were fixed on the screen of his phone. God in fucking heaven, it was a torture to see you like that, he thought. A torture. You were lying on your bed, overlooked; your hair was slightly messy, your pyjamas fell perfectly on your curves, the delicate silk fabric outlined your body like a sculpture drawn particularly to fuck his mind. He opened a smile when he saw the view of you, the lower of his belly kicking in just again. Seeing you like that, laying ever so beautiful, your body so exposed, in a situation like the one he was in right now: unable of touching, unable of even seeing you straight. That was somewhat torture.

“How are you, babe? You look tired.” You asked, resting your face on your hand, a small smile decorating your lips. Leon drank another long sip of his whisky. 

“It’s nothing, doll. This hell of a meeting, is all...” he murmured, crossing his legs and mindfully staring at you behind the screen. “I’m sorry, I won’t make it to the weekend.”

“Oh no...” You shuddered back, your look becoming frustrated in a matter of seconds. “Why are they holding you, did something happen?” You asked furrowing your eyebrows; it was your habit to ask, even if you knew he’d never give an answer.

“You know I can’t talk to you about that, darling...” He murmured, with a slightly defeated smile on his face, and continued, “I’ll be there Sunday night. I promised.” 

You sigh,frustrated and defeated sigh, but agreed. As always, how good you were to him. The silence only lasted for a few seconds before he spoke again in a calm and quiet tone.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I can’t be mad at you. It’s not even your fault...” You argued, shrugging your shoulders quickly, and your eyes focused for a few seconds on the open part of his shirt – a silent invitation. 

“You’re so good to me. I’ll compensate you, I promise.” he said in that soft spoken, deep voice.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what he did to you, how he would put you in your place, how it would make you squirm in want and lust and call for him in your dreams whenever he was that far from you. 

There, dropped in that chair, Leon held the cell phone at the height of his knee, his eyes looking down to where his eyes found him behind the screen; he rested one hand on his face, in the encounter of his jaw with his neck. 

You could follow the well-defined drawings of his chest through the little exposed skin by the already undone buttons, his biceps that seeming to ask to explode out through all that fabric. Your eyes went down through his chest to the path of heaven that made the encounter between his belly and his crotch. You bite your own tongue. If you closed your eyes now, you could perfectly imagine how you would make him twist in your mouth. What a mess.

“You can compensate me now.” you said, after licking your lips. How could you taste the alcohol of his mouth on yours, if the two of you were more than kilometers away? How could he fuck up your head to make himself printed on you like that? 

“How would I do that, babe? Can’t eat you out through the phone.” he smirked, a little smile spreading across his lips noticing your eagerness for him. You were such a fucking fool - couldn’t hide a single feeling, damn.

You slowly flashed, and then got up a little bit by placing your phone in front of your pillow so that you could film yourself without using your hands. Leon raised his eyebrows in surprise when you slowly took your hand through the soft skin of your belly now exposed through the tiny shirt you wore, and began to raise it, gently, almost so slowly that you could now feel his excitement emanating from his look; his eyes burning, his stomach twirling inside in desire. It didn’t take you much to get him on the edge as you so knew from the plenty of times he couldn’t wait for the two of you to get home before fucking the brains out of you against the first car, table or wall he’d see.

“Can’t you? You seem like you are right now.” You smirked, and your hand went further up, beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. You palmed your breast and he could see the shape of your flesh changing as you tightened, more, stronger. Leon stretched his fists, almost able to feel the warm skin of your breasts against him; he could almost feel himself tracing kisses through your neck, bites, leaving marks that you would spend makeup trying to erase. Cupping your breast with his perfect-sized hand, suckling, making you squirm under him.

“Doll,” he said in a slightly alarmed tone. “Don’t do that to me. Don’t torture me like this.” He whispered, his blue eyes like the sea attached to the screen, to you. 

To your body, that he knew: belonged to him. You made that clearer when you started to climb the shirt even further, until you finally crossed it through your neck and threw it to the side. He couldn’t see your face anymore, only your body – you soft breasts, the inviting skin of your belly, the curves that formed your waist, those delicious hips, devilish thighs. You started becoming more and more drenched the more you showed more of yourself to him.

“Please... I need you so fucking much.” you pleaded, your voice muffled by the sounds of your panting.

You liked the obscene look he played at you when he saw you that way. One of your hands continued to massage one of your breasts, your nipples began to express the intensity of your own desire as punctual as they could be; you felt shrinking whole when your free hand began to descend through the lines that surrounded your uterus to the lower belly, inside the tiny, thin short you dared to call a pyjama. 

“You’ll kill me.” He replied licking his lips, his hand reached the remaining buttons of his shirt and he opened it completely. You could see by the emerging volume in his pants that you were not the only one burning in desire right now. Leon grabbed the volume of the bulge in his pants with one hand, in a frustrated attempt to ease the tension; the movement caused his breath to shrink for a moment and he released a low, needy moan. 

“Spread them for me, babe let me see you.” he told you, and you took it in.

You slowly sat on the bed, spreading up your legs as he had asked you, supporting your feet by the bed on the sides of the phone, completely exposed; the fabric of your shorts, alone, was not able to prevent Leon from seeing the perfect curves of your folds, the small well that formed in the fabric in your cunt. He opened up an almost demonic smile. You were not wearing panties.

“Oh, fuck, babe...” He moaned, his hands beginning to shake off the belt of his social pants. “Move it aside for me...” he asked, almost in a flustered sigh, as he let the belt fall freely on the sides of his body and unbuttoned the zipper of his pants with some hurry. At the moment he finally relaxed and released a desperate breath, you could see the perfect format of his cock ever so big, stretching the fabric of his white boxers. You felt your mouth salivate instinctively, and held back a moan of excitement. With one of your arms, you supported your elbow behind you, bending your body back and with your free hand, you pulled aside the central part of your shorts, exposing to him your needy, wet pussy. Your fingers traced a way through your folds to the core of your pleasure - your throbbing and twitching clit. 

Your face flushed in redness as you let your head fall back, but quickly bringing it back to staring at your phone where you could already see Leon’s hard cock twitching through the camera; in addition to your excruciating and burning desire, you could see the entire length, could picture yourself swallowing every inch of his right now. 

“See how you get me? You little evil thing… Play yourself to me, come on, do your

show…” He growled in a hoarse voice, slowly spitting at the glistening tip of his member, reddened by the need and the blood pulsating, his skin burning. “I’d go to that airport and advance my flight just to fuck you, god…” he continued, while his hand rushed from the tip to the base of his cock, spreading his spit through the length and starting to pump in slow alluring movements.

You couldn’t hold yourself from moaning near that man, you could barely hold your breath - your movements became instinctive when you were with him. Whenever he’d be behind you in the kitchen, mornings after a good night out - he’d call himself an oldie and complain about being tired, and the second next proceed to pin you against the counter and eat you up from behind. Just the thought of his tongue against you made you squirm on your own hand, circling movements starting by your index and middle fingers against your sensible clit. 

The muffled moans of his, your panting voice, the little sound he’d make each time his hand ran through his cock - the two of you got lost in the act, you could almost forget there was an entire country between you and him. The way you’d lose it when he started praising you-

“Good… So good to me, come to me, c’mon”, ah. There it was.

Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and you instinctively drawn your hand further lower towards your drenched entrance, stretching yourself, feeling the warmth of your walls that so needily called for him. You couldn’t possibly elaborate a single sentence right now, as your head was up in the sky; Leon had taught you to torture yourself. To hold back till you could no more, to try to postpone your orgasm till you felt your own body breaking down, losing conscience. 

He felt himself getting a raw, wild need once he noticed you were in that state he liked to put you in anytime he’d have time to fuck you straight, without a hurry, without the need of being a quickie. Squirming, panting, your body begging you to give in - god. 

His movements started to rush up watching the way your folds glistened through the low lightning of your room, your juices rushing down your thighs, the way you couldn’t watch him without your cheeks looking like burning fire on want and desire. 

His throat closed and he let his head fall back, for a moment, he got uncontrolled and erratic, his movements so strong you could hear a slight hint of pain in his voice, his stomach started flexing and he grabbed on tight to the chair’s arm, your name came out as a growl as he held to the base of his cock, letting out all of his milky seed spread against his chest, that moved constantly and erratically to his heavy breathing. 

Watching him get to his climax was too much for yourself and your personal tactic of torture. As you felt the ravenous feeling of your orgasm start to spread through your thighs, up your belly and down your pussy to the core of your pleasure, you let out, above all things, a soft moan - his name. Your voracious breath got in tune with his, as you bite your lip, your eyes ever so alluring boring into his through the screen, your obscene expression and smile as you pulled your fingers into your mouth and sucked onto them, tasting your own juices, feeling the living proof of your own pleasure.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He muttered, staring into you like a predator while you closed your legs and let out a little content laugh.

-

Leon picked up your call while dragging his baggage through the airport ways to the boarding line. A smile formed across his lips. 

“Little darling, I can’t really talk right now… I’m getting to the boarding line, my flight’s in about thirty minutes.” he argued, to which you just smiled.

“I just called to wish you a good flight, bae, that’s all.” You responded. “I’m waiting for you.”

“No no, don’t do that. Don’t stay awake waiting for me, yeah? I’ll be there soon enough, I promise.” 

“You know that no matter what you say, I’m going to do the exact opposite. Right? Right, Agent?”, you let out a soft laugh.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

“I know.”

[heerinnie]

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬

𝐏.𝐉𝐒

SYNOPSIS: Long term lovers, long term friends. Nothing and no one could come in between you and Jay other than your fear of intimacy.

WARNINGS: tooth-rotting fluff and smut, bf!jay x inexperienced fem!reader, reader has a fear of intimacy, implied s/a (not graphic), soft!Jay (he’s so sweet in this I cried a little when writing, making out, dry humping, mentions of oral (f!), Jay’s experienced but his body count’s like 2, blasphemy, written with the song Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez in mind

A/N: This is very very self-indulgent, writing is a way i cope with my experience in these situations so I feel like I healed a little part of me by acknowledging it happened and it wasn’t my fault, instead I’m turning it into something comforting. This works for me and for some others however i recognise that it may be triggering for others even if there aren’t any graphic mentions of s/a only the aftermath, please only read this if you’re in the right headspace. Any disrespectful comment will be deleted and blocked from my account 🤍

WC: 1274

^^ NSFW UNDER CUT, MINORS DNI (not proofread)

It all happened so quickly and yet you were still stuck here, still scarred 2 almost 3 years in the past. Time doesn’t heal wounds, physical ones? Yes but this feeling you could never shake off even if you tried your hardest, you couldn’t heal especially not alone.

You weren’t the an overly religious person, definitely not after your trust was broken. If there was a god well they’re a dick, if god was real why did you get hurt? You didn’t do anything wrong you were so kind…so bright until a shadow blew your flame away and forced you to live in a chamber of your own inner darkness. It was not your fault, you didn’t do anything you were just there...

That flame grew smaller and smaller until it suddenly disappeared and all that was left was a trail of smoke showing that at some point in time you were burning and warming everyone’s hearts whilst yours was barley flickering trying so hard to stay alight.

So many things changed with Jay's re-entry into your life, everything seemed to change directions and you felt like there was a purpose for your existence. Despite the lingering pain and heartache thats been consuming you, his presence felt like a much needed breath of fresh air. It was as if he had come to you as a guardian angel pulling you out of the misery you were dwelling in. He gave you the comfort that you didn't even know you needed until he appeared. The one which eased the damages of your heart.

“I think I'm ready” You've told him this so many times that you're starting to feel guilty for giving him this false hope. You know you've pulled back on your words before, so you understand why he may be sceptical. However, this time is different. You've taken the time to reflect on your feelings and you're sure that you're finally ready. You want to show Jay that you're committed and prepared to take the next step in your intimacy and you're willing to put in the effort to make it happen.

He obviously had some doubts however, he took the time to affirm that you were genuinely ready and that you wouldn't have any regrets. He's always so patient and understanding which is not surprising considering that he has always been your best friend before he even had the privilege of calling himself your boyfriend. Someone who understands you better than anyone else, your soulmate in all and every way.

Your relationship with him is built on trust, understanding and respect and it was so scary, you've never been treated so well before Jay and it showed but he was patient with the time it took time to get used him.

“I’m 100% sure” you got up and sat on his lap. You were fine and it felt right, this time you were in control of the situation and you weren’t uncomfortable with the feeling of sitting crotch to crotch with your boyfriend.

It felt like there was a force pulling your lips toward his as you leaned in to connect with each other and in an instant, you felt a rush of intense emotions overwhelm you. Your pupils dilated and your heartbeat quickened as it was trying to catch up with the sudden flood of feelings. It was a moment of pure realization- this was what true love felt like, and now you knew it with absolute confidence.

You weren't Jay’s first but at this moment he felt like you were, he had like two quick fucks with past short term girlfriends but this time it felt different. His heart was running laps and it was like all the air in his lungs disappeared as soon as your plush lips met his. He mentally cursed himself for growing hard already but in his defence, he had the most beautiful girl on his lap making out with him and as much as it made him nervous he couldn't help but get aroused when you started slowly grinding on his bulge to set the mood.

Your lungs were beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen as the room was filled with loud and wet noises of lips smacking, what started off as a passionate slow kiss quickly turned into a deeply heated make out session. Tongues dancing in an animalistic rhythm, hands travelling anywhere they could- you finally unlocked another level of intimacy with your boyfriend.

As you reflect on the situation you're in right now you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude. You think back to all the moments you've shared together, from the first time you met to the night you opened up to him about your trauma. The thought that someone like Jay could choose to be with you fills you with so much happiness and you can't help but break into a fit of giggles at the sheer joy of it all. It's a feeling that's difficult to describe, but you know that you're grateful for every moment you get to spend with him.

Your hips moved faster as a result of the friction you felt, you moaned when it sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core and down your spine. When you adjusted to a better angle jays grip on your hips tightened, he let out a soft moan that sounded like music to your ears. You felt his soft palm touch your cheek signalling to look at him and once your eyes met he couldn’t control his body as he started thrusting in his hips into you.

Nearing closer and closer to your climax your head starting spinning when Jay let out moans and groans whereas you couldn’t keep even the smallest noises of pleasure within yourself, you noticed a tiny bead of sweat forming at the top of his sun-kissed skin. It was already a hot day but the way he was thrusting and you were grinding felt like the heating went up covering you in sweat. As you watched his face contort with pleasure you couldn't help but think that you had never seen a man this beautiful, both inside and out. His broad shoulders flexed to keep up with the movement of his hips and placement of his hands on your stuttering body, his chiseled features were accentuated by the dimmed living room light highlighting the sweat that trickled down his face. Despite the heat, he remained focused, determined to give you the best he could at the moment trying to leaving a lasting impression to say that sex isn’t as scary when it’s with the love of your life and you couldn't help but admire him for wanting to give you it all.

With all that work you finally felt your orgasm hit with jay’s quickly following after. You stayed laying on him ignoring the uncomfortable wetness on your panties as your blown out pupils stared off onto the empty space on the couch next to where you two rested,

“That felt amazing” you hummed agreeing with your boyfriend, “but if you’re up for it I can show you how good it can really feel” he purred, you felt his cock hardening again with the way you were spread out on him. In a span of seconds you two ran towards your shared bedroom preparing for a long night of what pleasure with your loved one really feels like starting off strong with jay devouring your pussy for the first time as an apology for the lack of dirty talk and foreplay he didn’t do before.

A/N: I’m not really happy with the ‘smut’ I rushed it and I think you can tell 😭 I haven’t posted in forever so this is a little filler for my hee fic that’s like 3/4 done (currently like 4K words idk 🤷🏽‍♀️) but I hope you guys enjoyed this little treat <3

[hubristicassholefight]

Hubristic Assholes Tourney Round 1 Part 4b

Five Pebbles (Rain World) vs Achilles (The Illiad)

Propaganda below cut (Beware spoilers)

Five Pebbles

Five Pebbles is an iterator, a city sized sentient and partially biological supercomputer. An ancient civilization built the iterators to essentially try to calculate a way for the Ancients to ascend beyond this mortal world and leave behind the cycle of reincarnation. He and the other iterators were left behind after their creators all disappeared/ascended. The iterators are as close to man made gods as anything can be, yet they are trapped - both by their huge physical forms, unable to move from the place they were built in, and by a taboo in their programming, which prevents them from attempting to self-destruct. Five Pebbles grew frustrated with his fate as a "bug in a maze". He was convinced that if he could just break the self-destruction taboo, he would find a way to ascend himself, thus escaping the mortal world. He started a series of massive experiements that consumed so much cooling water, the drought in the area destroyed his sister and fellow iterator Looks To The Moon. In her efforts to stop him, she distracted him. The experiement failed catastrofically. Five Pebbles had not only callously killed his own sister in the pursuit of his impossible goal, but he had also created a sentient, mobile disease growing inside his own body. The Rot would eat through his mountain sized body, no matter what Five Pebbles tried to do to stop it. It takes it thousands of years, but piece by piece the Rot breaks him down, until all that remains of Five Pebbles, once a mortal god, is a trembling, frozen puppet sitting alone inside the completely destroyed ruins of his own superstructure. It's a fate much worse than the death he was seeking; epic fail bug man lol

He is a city sized supercomputer who was built with one goal in mind; to produce a solution to the great problem, that being how to allow all things to escape the cycle of life and death without the use of void fluid. A different character claimed to have a solution, but died before they could say it. Five Pebbles believed that the death itself was the solution, despite the fact that it only effects the machine, and the inability to kill themselves is ingrained in every cell of their body(he's a meat computer btw). The culture that produced these supercomputers good high respect for their ancestors, so defying them is very heretical. In his attempt to break the self destruction taboo he drains all the local water, causing looks to the moon to also run out of water. Looks to the moon, being older than Five Pebbles, eventually used her seniority to force five Pebbles to stop trying to kill himself, after she was too damaged to survive for very long, and in doing so, gave five pebbles giga-cancer that world slowly, and I mean slowly, eat him alive, stopping him from trying again; He was artificially made with every cell of his body having a code that stops him from killing himself. When he tries to overcome it he accidentally kills someone else and gives himself giga-cancer.

Achilles

No propaganda allowed to be used

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 6 (Azure Lion, Peng, Yellowtusk)

(I originally made my own design of Azure and Yellowtusk but wasn't quite happy with how they turned out so I scrapped them, the designs for those two I used in these edits were made by @/erraday_ on twt, with a few minor changes, but Peng's design is my own :) )

- He/Him

- Pansexual

- Snores so loud, it's insane, Yellowtusk once thought there was an earthquake

- Feels bad whenever he's steps on a ladybug, butterfly etc

- Gives everyone and everything giant bear hugs because he thinks if Yellowtusk can take it, so can everyone else (They cannot)

- Mei once gave him catnip as a joke and he went fucking feral, he's not allowed near catnip anymore

- His hair/fur is actually very soft and curly

- Thought he saw an old friend while out in public and hugged them, it was a stranger

- Wakes up Yellowtusk in the middle of the night to ask stupid questions

- The Brotherhood asked to hear his roar but he got really nervous last second and it ended up being really meek, they never let him forget it

- Coughed up a hairball once and Peng refuses to let him live it down

- Has eaten cat food before and would do it again

- Cannot do the splits and is too scared to try

- Gets really confused by modern slang, MK and Mei abuse the hell out of it because it's funny

- Whenever he's rough housing with people he accidentally hits a bit too hard

- Whenever he walks past anyone playing a game that involves a ball (football, basketball, netball, etc) he somehow always ends up getting hit in the head with it

- If he wasn't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid he wouldn't know what the fuck to do and would be really awkward cause he doesn't know how to interact with children, he'd be able to bond with Redson better when he becomes a teenager though

- No one gossips with him because he always ends up unintentionally outing someone about something

- Ate moldy food once by accident and freaked out, he was absolutely disgusted

- Hates horror movies but loves slashers

- Drinks mouthwash

- Smells like catnip (trust me guys)

- Love language is words of affirmation

- Has horrible bed head, his mane gets tangled really easily and he tosses around a lot at night so his mane takes hours to brush out

- Absolutely refuses to wear shoes, they hurt his feet (paws?)

- The type of person to cry over a movie about a dog getting lost and then finding its owner at the end

- Can somehow eat an entire goddamn buffet and not gain a single pound

- His face always scrunches up when he smiles

- Lost his balance on a hill and fell down like a tumbleweed once, Peng still brings it up

- They/He (Canon, Peng uses They/Them in the show but is exclusively referred to w/ He/Him in the sets)

- Nonbinary (Canon)

- Starts squaking when he laughs too much

- If you throw a blanket over their head he'll immediately fall asleep

- "look behind you but don't make it obvious" Looks behind him in the most exaggerated, obvious way known to mankind

- Stole food from Wukong's private stash for several months when the Brotherhood was all still together, Wukong still doesn't know

- Wukong gave them cooked chicken once as a joke but he actually liked it

- Constantly argues with Wukong about Macaque not being able to hold his own, yes it got physical

- Their wings have a bunch of scars from the amount of weapons and shit they block with them. Has to consistently clean their wings in order to keep them from getting too damaged, yes this includes softening and preening his feathers

- If they weren't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid they would tape him to the wall like that one meme and call it a day

- Bit off a person's finger once just to see if they could

- Doesn't shop, just steals

- "I hate you so fucking much" as he's handing the person a gift

-  Tried to draw on Wukong's face once but got wacked with his tail

- Absolutely HATES beetroot, will actually gag if he smells it

- Kicks over kids sand castles at the beach

- Can't stand small buzzing sounds

- "I'm not that competitive" is that competitive

- Claims you can trust them with anything but will snitch the second they know it will benefit them

- Probably threatened to eat someone's baby once

- Goes to playgrounds to trip kids

- Smells like Lavender, it just feels right

- Love language is words of affirmation and acts of service

- Has tried sleeping upside down like a bat multiple times

- Hardcore wine aunt vibes

- Had a bunch of ducklings accidently imprinted to him and they followed Peng for hours

- You'd have to pin this bird down to get them to eat collyflower

- Jokingly pushed Azure off a cliff once then remembered they're the only member of the Camel Ridge Trio that can fly

- They have full on concerts at like 3 am, has woken up Azure on multiple occasions

- He/Him

- AroAce

- Is the calmest one in the Brotherhood

- He uses Peng's head as an armrest sometimes

- He and DBK were actually quite close, he knew and accepted that DBK was in love with a celestial but was very surprised to see they ended up having a child

- Very poor eyesight but doesn't like wearing his glasses because Peng made a joke about them once saying he looked like a grandma

- Uses ":3" and ":D"

- Loves soap opera's

- Hates seafood

- Peng once tricked him into eating fish nuggets once and he still hasn't fully forgiven them

- If he wasn't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid he would definitely be the most responsible one, and probably Redson's favourite uncle

- Eats a snack then forgets he ate it and will bet frustrated when he can't find it

- The therapist of the Camel Ridge Trio, and probably of the whole Brotherhood in the past as well

- Was the only one who felt bad about imprisoning the Demon Bull Family since he and DBK were very close

- He also reprimanded Peng for when they pinned and scratched Redson with their claws after they left the Demon Bull Palace (he's the protective uncle, trust me guys)

- Hates getting hiccups, he despises the feeling and it gives him heartburn

- Wakes up at ungodly hours just to raid the fridge

- Heard a story about a bug crawling in someone's ear while they slept and has worn earplugs to bed ever since

- Loves apples

- Smells like Lilies

- Love language is gift giving

- Is really big on safety, would be the type of person to make sure everyone is wearing their seat belts before the car is even turned on

- Actually really good at cooking

- Makes the best chocolate chip pancakes ever

- Is the kind of person who assumes everyone tells eachother everything and accidently exposes someone because he thought everyone else knew about it already

- Always hears things wrong but doesn't wanna ask anyone to repeat themselves

- Has the most elegant ass handwriting you will ever see, somehow

- The peacemaker of the Brotherhood,  they all would've disbanded way sooner if it wasn't for him

- Uses his trunk as a snorkle when swimming or sleeping underwater (elephants actually do this irl, I just thought it was cute)

[genshin-obsessed]

Helliuw~ Can I request how Luocha from Honkai Star Rail going after his crush (reader)? Thank you!

𓆩⟡𓆪 Ooh this is a cute one!! Well they all usually are, but I really like this one. Luocha is just so *sigh* 𓆩⟡𓆪 This was also much longer than I intended it to be, i didn't even realize. It may not be entirely compatible with his personality, but I was just having too much fun to change it.

How He Confesses

Luocha is a generally observant person, and he's good a picking up emotions of others. So, it wasn’t hard for him to recognize that his own emotions stirred when he interacted with you.

However, just because he can recognize these feelings doesn't mean he's good at acting on them. He’ll understand them but he’ll try to either deny it or just avoid it for a while in the earlier stages.

Luocha doesn’t want to rush things, which is why he tries to take it slow. But over time, he realizes just how much he loves you.

It does make it harder for him to take it slow, so at some point, he throws caution to the wind and just attempts to confess.

Here’s the thing, there’s a certain rule to confessing, right? Like you don’t just say it to someone’s face that you love them without setting up something. Doesn’t need to be anything grand, but some effort has to go in it.

Well, that’s what he tried. See, he wanted to confess in private, wanting the atmosphere to reflect the love he felt for you. So, he set up a little picnic in a secluded area he’d found. It was perfect, with how easily the stars could be seen, to the way the moonlight poured onto the seating area. It was truly the definition of beauty. The setup was easy, he needed a blanket, maybe a couple of pillows, a bottle of wine, some snacks, and a clear night.

But then apparently it was an extremely windy night? Like, he couldn’t get the blanket to stay, the small rocks weren’t helping too much, the basket flew away, he accidentally spilled the wine before he could even set it up. Like, the date failed before he even asked you to join him.

So, he tried something else. Decided maybe something indoors would be a more neutral choice. Even if it started raining, you two would be fine. So, he set up a reservation, asked to be put in a more private area so you could talk without much noise. The venue was all fancy and stuff, so you'd love it for sure!

But apparently four customers got into a heated argument that became physical. Somehow the fight moved to the kitchen and they ended up starting a fire? Everyone was evacuated and Luocha got a call mere hours before the date that they’d be closed for a couple of weeks due to the damages.

So, that clearly failed. Well, to hell with fancy confessions, he just needed to tell you right? Maybe it was best to confess in person then give you the option to take some time to yourself and think just in case. He was a little disappointed that his other plans didn't work, but maybe it was for the best! Putting you in that situation might force some pressure onto you to give him a response immediately.

The next time you two met up, he decided to go for it. He was running with the conversation and was building up to the confession… when you got a call from Yanqing claiming he had an emergency he desperately needed you for… and you had to leave.

At this point, Luocha had to wonder of it was even in the cards for him to confess. Cards! Oh! Nothing could possibly interrupt a card, right? Sure, it was the tackiest idea ever, but desperate times call for desperate measures!

The process of writing a love letter was much more complicated than he realized. He needed it to be short and concise, but not abrupt. He also didn't want it to be too cheesy with over the top metaphors and whatnot. Honestly, it took him at least 6 drafts before he settled on one that was bearable.

He debated on sending it to you through the courier but decided against it since so much had gone wrong already. Best part about this idea? He didn't need to take up too much of your time, even a few minutes worked as he just needed to explain it. Basically, he gave it to you and instructed you to keep it safe until you got home and then read it, so that you had that privacy. You agreed and he went home feeling somewhat mediocre. On on hand, he finally got the confession out, but on the other, it was such a dumb way- in his opinion (Pocky thinks love letters are hella romantic).

APPARENTLY you lost your entire bag and the letter with it. I mean, Luocha was at his wits end. It’s like the entire universe was against him just confessing. Everything that could go wrong, literally went wrong. Your entire backpack vanished! You wouldn’t even get a chance to reject, which, at some point, had someone stopped being a fear of his due to these bizarre circumstances!

Finally, he gave up and just kept his mouth shut. He realized how much trouble was being caused every time he confessed and decided to save the entire world some grief and just bury his feelings. He’d just die with them.

The days went on, nothing really happened. Like those weird events just magically went away which did make him wonder if he was being set up. He threw that out the window when he realized no other soul other than him knew about his feelings. You two hung out as often as you usually did but you started noticing Luocha’s behavior. It was… odd. Less cheery and more distracted. You tried to ask but he kept saying it was nothing and he was just tired.

Honestly, Luocha hated lying to you. Omitting details for others was easy but for you, it felt wrong. He didn’t want to distance himself but clearly he wasn’t meant to be with you.

Then you did the unthinkable. You just… confessed. Lemme explain:

“I’m ok. You’re worrying again.” Luocha said with a slight chuckle as he raised the teacup to his lips. He easily noticed you weren’t really convinced in the slightest, but he didn’t intend on letting you know anytime soon. Who knows, the entire street might explode to keep him from confessing.

“Of course, I would worry. I really care about you, you know.” Your words were spoken with no hesitation that it made Luocha’s hand pause in the middle of him taking another sip of his hot beverage.

“Huh? O-oh, thank you. That’s really kind of you.” He said, slowly returning to reality and waving his hand a little. As if you didn’t have to say such a thing to make him feel better.

“I mean it.” You pointed out as you leaned forward a little. “I really like you and you being so withdrawn makes me worry a lot.”

“I can assure you, I really am just- wait, what?” Luocha’s eyes widened as he fully registered what you’d just said to him. You seemed confused by his expression and just shrugged.

“Well, yeah. It’s normal to worry about someone you like, right?”

“R-right but you like me. Like… you’re romantically interested in me?” His words were deliberate and he wanted to make sure there was absolutely no confusion between you two whatsoever.

“Yes. I have a crush on you. Well, for me it's a bit more intense than like but you know what I mean.” His eyes immediately darted around and he even turned around to see the area behind the outdoor café. “Luocha? What’s wrong?”

After a moment of silence from him, the blond man sighed and turned back to you. You could visibly see the relief he felt.

“Honestly, I was expecting a skiff to crash and kill us.” You were taken aback by his morbid words, your eyes widening.

“Wh-why?”

“Yeah. Why? That’s my question too.” He replied, rubbing his face. “Wait, no. Forget that, you actually feel the same way?”

“Feel the same? Wait, you like me too!? Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked, leaning even closer. At the simple words, Luocha felt a bitter feeling in his chest.

“I tried.” He replied flatly, pushing his hair back to recompose himself. “But my confession quickly turned into a series of unfortunate events.”

“Oh? What happened?” You asked, eyes filled with curiosity as you waited for him to elaborate. He was about to, opening his mouth to speak before he fell silent once more. What? No! No, he couldn't waste any more time.

“N-never mind that! Let’s talk about us. You like me, I like you. We should just go ahead and just get married.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, shaking your head a little. Now, it felt like he was returning to his normal self. Honestly, it wasn't that bad of an idea- technically speaking.

“Marriage? Shouldn’t we go on a date first?”

“Why? Tomorrow’s never guaranteed and we might as well just make it official.” That and… Luocha was a little scared to propose seeing as how his confession went. At this rate, you’d be the one proposing. Well, he actually didn’t hate the idea.

You couldn’t help but laugh again and Luocha felt a smile tugging at his own lips. Ok, maybe he was jumping ahead a little too fast. So instead, he reached out and grabbed your hand, feeling the warmth and comfort of it.

“Kidding. Why not turn this into an official date, then?”

“Yeah, I like that.” You said, nodding and squeezing his hand. "I mean, I don't mind getting married right now but we should probably take it slow."

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader; Kokushibo x f!reader; Nakime, Douma, Yuichiro Tokito, Sabito, Makomo and Kotoha; mention to Inosuke and Kagaya;

Warnings: murder, death, use of guns, shotguns, blood, gore, mental and physical torture, explosions, knives, stabbing, abuse, angst, psychopathic tendencies, harassment, criminal plots, cheating, use of alcohol;

Plot: Muzan has finally found a way to take down part of the Ubuyashiky Empire. While you do not even know where he is, attending a dinner, supposed to be a date with Muzan, with his First in Command, you get drunk and a small accident takes place in the parking lot. What you do not know is that your soon to be husband is busy blowing up a building, while with the help of his loyal guards, he lets blood run down the streets.

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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THIS PLACE IS ABOUT TO BLOW.

The night had barely veiled the sky, when Muzan hopped down from the car. After years of searching for that place, he had finally found it. The road was silent, exceptionally silent, and everything was set. For weeks he had tried to fetch Kagaya a blow. After the little stunt he had pulled with his daughter, with you, Muzan craved more. His arms factory, the industry located in a secret location that nobody could ever find, was now under his nose.

The new recruit, Kaigaku, had done a pretty decent job in stalking his cousin all the way here. Such a pity that a fine building was about to turn into ashes in a few minutes. Bombs had been activated in every angle of the company and all it would have taken to make them explode was a simple remote he was currently holding into his hand. A small black device with a red button in the middle.

"I believe there's still someone inside" Nakime pointed out, scrutinizing the area with a pair of binoculars and spotting two cars in the parking lot.

Muzan did not even bother glancing at them, he closed his eyes for a second and a small grin crossed his lips. There was such a difference between the person he was now and the one he was around you. He did not want to fail to attend your dinner, he went mad when he was not around you. Yet, he could not turn into somebody else only because now you were part of his life. If you love someone, you learn to love their edges too, right?

Also, everything he was doing now was for you.

"Awesome. This only means there will be some collateral damages" Muzan replied, before shoving his hand into his breast pocket and pulling a phone out to check the time. It would have been foolish bringinghis main device in the area. The police would have reasonably been able to track him down and, frankly, the last thing he needed was to be arraigned on a charge of murder.

Studying the area before attacking had granted him the chance to find a blind spot where the videocameras could not catch even small glimpses of them. Yet, since there seemed to still be people into the building, and he was smart enough to figure that some of them were Slayers, they had to be ready to fight. Bringing with him his most cold-blooded assassins would have surely helped me to get the job done in a matter of seconds.

"Be nimble. Don't toy with your victims. — Muzan said, his plum red eyes darting on the silver-haired man at his left — I'm talking to you, idiot" he remarked, earning a grin from Douma.

His presence alone was enough to irk Muzan. He would have gladly asked Kokushibo to take care of this but, since he could not trust Douma around you, he had no other choice than switch the roles of his bodyguards.

"Can I, at least, kidnap a lady? You know, like a souvenir to remember this glorious night" Douma chimed, causing Nakime to grimace in disgust and Muzan to load up the gun he kept on his belt.

As the raven-haired politician turned to face Douma and pointed the gun at him, the bodyguard knew it was time to shut up. It was not the first time Muzan killed someone. Five bodyguards had been murdered in the last two years, all murdered by the said man.

"Do not give me an excuse to blow your brains out  – Muzan deadpanned, locking eyes with Douma before turning to glance briefly at Nakime – Get in position now, both of you" he added shortly.

In a few seconds, the lights into the building they were watching turned down. Kaigaku had finally caused the blackout in the area. A few seconds passed by, before a couple of Slayers ran out of the building and checked the area around the parking lot. Their blades glimmered under the moonlight as their eyes searched for possible threats. They seemed young, probably barely around their early twenties. It was clear that they were no match for the two Moons ready to strike them down. They waited in the darkenss, until the taller one noticed the shiny car parked on the side of the road.

"Fox, that car doesn't belong to any of us" he pointed out, his turquoise eyes widening even so slightly in the futile attempt to catch some details that coukd have helped him to figure out what was going on. However, they were too far for that and they ventured down the desert street to approach the vehicle.

The other Slayer, the one wearing a white Fox mask with a peculiar scar on it, walked beside his dark-haired colleague. His grip on the hilt of his katana was tight, his knuckles had turned white as they carefully devoured the distance between them and the car. He seemed more tense than the other, as if he was expecting to be attacked at any given chance. Yet, it was not enough to save them.

It happened before they could even realize it. As the taller one got close enough to peek into the opened window of the parked vehicle, a knife was thrown at his back and impaled his right  shoulderblade. A wince of pain left his lips as he turned around hastily and slashed at the brunette woman standing a few strides away from him.

"Yuichiro!" the masked slayer yelled out, the blood spilling out from his colleague's wound splattered over his white mask.

Nakime dodged the attack and drew another knife from the suspender on her thigh "Good evening, fellas" she cooed, her red-painted lips curling up in a smile as Douma joined her and unfolded his tessens. He pouted, cocking his head to the side as he let hsi multicolored orbs analyze his opponents outfits.

"Distasteful choice of colors for your suits... The mask is cute, though, but I would love to look my enemy straight in the eye, as I tear him apart. I hope you don't mind it, dear" the Second in Command cheerfully said, before quickly slashing at the mask covering the shorter slayer's visage.

The sound of the two pieces of wood clattering on the dirty ground made the peach-haired guy flinch and his lavander eyes glint in anger. That blow, so fast and precise, could have killed him right on the spot. How was he not able to dodge it? There was no doubt that the two strangers in fornt of them were skilled fighters. They were Moons. They clearly had no chances against them and his mind only screamed for one thing: the urge to protect Makomo and the secretary, Kotoha. They needed to run as far away as possible and to call for someone to help them out.

If they somehow managed to survive.

"Go to call Makomo and Kotoha. Tell them to go, tell Makomo I love her" Fox said through gritted teeth, not even galncing at Yuichiro for a second.

"Sabito, no! If you think I'm going to leave you alone, you're clearly out of your mind" Yuichiro spat, before he coughed up some blood on his hand.

At that sight, Douma smiled brightly and nudged Nakime's ribs with his elbow "Woah, you compromised his lungs! Good job!" he beamed, as the brunette simply twirled the knife between her fingers and threw it at the already wounded slayer, hoping to get it through his heart.

As she aimed for the organ, Sabito's eyes switched on her as he was quick to knock it out of Yuichiro's way with an horizontal slash of his katana.

Nakime sighed "You know, I was doing your friend a favor by stabbing him through his heart. I was saving him all of this sufferings... Nevermind, though" she whispered, as she got ready to throw another knife.

However, a sudden shotgun and the sight of Yuichiro's dead body slumping onto the ground were enough to make her flinch. The bullet had went clean through the slayer's head, killing him right on the spot. While Nakime knew exactly who had fired the gun, Sabito's eyes widened in horror as he knelt down next to his comrade as if shaking his shoulder could bring him back to life. It was pointless. Yuichiro Tokito was dead. A tickle of blood was running down the curve of his nose, contrasting with his pale skin and the glassy eyes now staring into the void. It was over, it was all over.

"Incompetent Moons are a pain in the ass. Worthless, you are worthlesss" Muzan Kibutsuji flatly said, his deep voice piercing their ears before he came to their vision.

Soft whimpers and shaky breaths filled the air, as two women walked slowly in front of him. One of them was younger, her tiny hand hold a broken blade in her hand as her blue eyes serached for Sabito's ones. Her left eyebrow was cut, as if someone had smacked her and, as Muzan kicked her on her back, making her fall face down on the cobblestone, it was pretty clear who had done it. The other one was around her thirties, emerald eyes contrasting with long and dark hair loosened down her small shoulders. She was terrified, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the scene before her eyes.

"Muzan Kibutsuji" Sabito hissed, trying to craddle Makomo in his arms, as the tiny girl sobbed in fear and gripped the fabric of her boyfriend's shirt in her little fists.

Muzan gripped the older woman's hair and made her wince in agony, before he shoved her against Douma's chest, as a sign for him to hold her still. The silver-haired man sneered and gladly wrapped his hands around her wrists, holding them tightly behind her back. His breath fanned her earlobe, making the woman shiver in fear.

"What's your name, honey?" Douma whispered, propping his chin over her shoulder.

"Kotoha. Hashibira Kotoha" she merely murmured, squeezing her eyes shut in fear as Muzan loaded his gun again and walked up towards the young couple of slayers, sitting at his feet.

It was their end. No one was going to save them.

"That's right. It's my name. — Muzan replied, pointing his gun at Sabito's head — I've tried to ask them about it, but all they were capable of telling me were pleas for mercy. How pathetic... Tell me, is there someone else in the building?" he coldly asked him, his finger ready to pull the trigger as soon as the slayer had given him the answer he needed.

Sabito held Makomo tightly, tears welling up in his eyes, as he refused to waste his last breath to talk to him. Instead, he pressed his lips against Makomo's temple and closed his eyes.

"I love you. Close your eyes" he whispered softly.

Two shotguns filled the air, some bids flying away from the brench of a nearby tree as Kotoha almost fell on her knees. She knew she would have been the next, her heart was thrumming in her chest in anticipation as thanked the God for what had happened that morning.

If Inosuke had not changed his shift with Yuichiro, the young boy laying on her ground would have been her son.

"Nakime. You know what to do. A 'K' on her left cheek, now. Hurry up" Muzan ordered his Fourth in Command as Douma gripped Kotoha's jaw to hold her head firmly.

Terror filled her eyes as she tried to wriggle in Douma's grip, only to earn an amused chuckle from the sadistic Moon behind her "Come on, hold on tight, it's like a tattoo" he crooned, as Nakime pierced her cheek with the cold blade of her knife.

Screams of pain shattered the silent night as the Fourth in Command neatly cut on her flawless skin, dark blood oozing down from the lines forming the shape of a 'K'. The mark of Muzan, his message for Ubuyashiki.

"Please, stop! It hurts! I can't!" Kotoha screetched, as Nakime finally stepped back and Muzan flicked his gaze up to admire her work of art.

There was no sympathy in his eyes as he reached his hand up to tuck a strand of Katoha's hair behind her ear, apathy in his visage as he grasped her hand delicately and pulled her closer to him. He did not care about the pain he was putting her through. She was a tool for him to send a message to his enemy.

"Your role is important, my dear. You will deliver my message to Kagaya Ubuyashiki" Muzan said, holding her gaze as she sobbed uncontrollably.

His words confused her. Was he going to spare her? The dim ounce of hope seemed to twinkly in her eyes as she wiped some blood and tears from her face with the sleeve of her shirt.

"What do you mean? Do I have to call him? Do you want me to be a messanger?" she naively asked him, her shoulder shaking as she tried to collect her breath.

This made him smile faintly. His hand reached for something behind his back, as he made sure her gaze was transfixed on him. Kotoha Hashibira was indeed a sweet woman.

His free hand held up her chin as he spoke out again "Yeah, exactly. You are going to be my messanger, Kotoha. But, you see, I got nothing to tell him. Therefore, my message has be graphic. That is why I do believe in killing the messanger" Muzan reasoned, grasping the handle of the switchblade he had hidden in his back.

Her eyes went round as she shook her head "No! No, please! Why?" she screamed, but the blade through her heart made her choke on her words.

Blood dripped out of her mouth as Muzan stared deeply into her eyes and helped her to lay down onto the ground.

"Because it sends a message" he whispered in her ear, as she twitched a few last times, before life abandoned her body.

Silence swallowed them again, as Muzan grasped the controller and his bodyguards got back into the car. He stared at the building one last time, before hopping into the passenger seat. As Douma began to drive away, Muzan rested his thumb onto the red button and, with a click, the industry exploded. The sound of the explosion felt like music to his ears and he watched the smoke and flames envelope it through the rear view mirror.

♚

"He stood me up. He fucking stood me up" you slurred, eyes wide open as you stared up at Kokushibo in pure shock. You could not believe Muzan had cancelled your dinner through a stupid message.

Now, all dolled up and drunk, you were talking to his First in Command about how pathetic and stupid you felt for not having got back at him for that.

"As if buying me some Valentino dress and these stupid shoes... Argh, I have even forgotten the name of their brand" you ranted, dipping your head between your arms as you closed your eyes in irritation. You had drunk too much, that was evident, and now an exhaspered Kokushibo was forced to raise from him chair and help you to stand up.

"I think it's time to go home. – he lowly said, clearing his throat to catch your attention — And the brand of your shoes is Louboutin" he added, making you quirk up your eyebrows and smile up at him.

"Aw, that's so cute, you remembered the brand for me! Yeah, let's go home! Let's go! I wanna set his stupid collections of ancient tapestries on fire!" she chimed, giggling as the stoic man's ears turned pink for the embarrassment.

The restaurant was empty at that hour. You were the last two guests left in here, since you had kept on ordering bottle after bottle to drown your anger and sadness into expensive wine. Actually, all that you felt now was a suffocating dissatisfaction. You could barely stand on your heels and you clung to Kokushibo's arm as a koala.

As you almost toppled down a table, the man exhaled through his nostrils and hauled you over his shoulder making you squeak out in surprise.

"Coconut! Coconut, let me down! I can perfectly walk!" you protested, blushing as the waiters stared at you two with uncomfortable expressions plastered over their faces. They had recognized you, obviously, but Kokushibo had paid them enough to keep their mouths shut about this little stunt you had pulled.

"Stop calling me that" Kokushibo said, walking through the exit and up to his car. Just a little longer, he had to try not to strangle you for a little longer.

However, you were far from being done. Annoying Kokushibo was an art you had crafted since the first day you two crossed paths. It was in your veins, you were born for it.

"Oh, I understand! You were just looking for an excuse to stare at my ass, were you not?!" you taunted him, bursting out laughing for your own stupid joke.

"I suggest you to shut up" he warned you in a stern tone.

"I suggest you to take that broom out of your ass".

It was enough. He wanted to choke the life out of you, yet you were absolutely cute at times. Now, now as you were pestering him, you were hilarious too and he could not take it anymore. You were ready to say something else, he felt the muscles of your abdomen flex over his shoulder as you took a deep breath. This time, though, you were going to swallow your shallow speeches.

You did not process it, all you knew was that you found yourself settled onto the hood of his car and his maroon eyes bored into yours for a split second. What followed was his hand grasping your jaw and his mouth capturing yours in a passionate kiss that made your toes curl into your shoes.

It lasted a few seconds, your hands settled on each side of you for balance as his tongue explored your mouth. You were drunk, really, but sober enough to feel how passionate he was.

"Will you shut up for the rest of ride?" he breathed out, as the kiss broke.

Of course you were going to shut up.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I have finally uploaded this chapter on Tumblr too. One more part and I will be finally get the perfect balance again. This chapter was rather dark and I am well-aware of it, but the story is supposed to be like that. It’s finally time to show some action, after all. Hopefully, I will bless you with some fluff in a while… Or so I believe!

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreaciated!

Until next, x o x o

Tags: @mrskokushibo @ladytamayolover @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhaslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013 @yoriichi-second-wife @sunaswife @lucikittyxoxo @heartsforjeongin @ishmealmendes @wondermilka @dangerousdreamkitty @crazycatlddy

[furiousgoldfish]

I'm going to sit down and try to explain this with patience, to everyone who still thinks calling out narcissistic abuse is 'ableist' or 'dehumanizing to the narcissists', and that abuse is something we're all equally capable of.

I don't think you understand what narcissistic abuse is, or how it differs from the other kinds of abuse. We can agree that all and any abuse is damaging, traumatic and scarring, but narcissistic abuse is so extremely pervasive, hidden, strategic and unbelievable, to the point where I can't honestly tell it's something any regular human would be capable of. And even more than this, the survivors of this particular type of abuse have found it extremely, extremely difficult to figure out they've been abused, even when they've been put through extreme, devastating, and absolutely dehumanizing scenarios. Realizing that your loved one is a narcissist requires your entire world to break down, and every piece of your heart shatters in the realization, and it takes months, even years to accept it.

The only way we can possibly figure it out is to connect the patterns. And patterns of the narcissistic abuse are focused on erasing one's own sense of self, one's perspective and ultimately, complete control over someone's emotions and behaviours. This is often done from early on, the grooming process starts at age zero, your value, worth and usefulness is determined by them, and you cannot wrangle yourself free from it on your own, not without someone confirming to you that you've been held captive, that your free will has been taken a long time ago.

Unfortunately, I have to give some examples, because I don't think it can be explained otherwise. When I was 2 years old, a narcissistic person found it a nuisance to watch over me, and they beat me up every time I disobeyed. I was a toddler. Then they proceeded to convince me that I was a demon, and would burn in hell regardless of what I do for the rest of my life. I've been brainwashed by this person to believe I was not a human being, had no human rights, that it was correct and regular for me to be locked up, beaten, and that it was my fault every single time, even when I did all that was asked of me. This person then had me comfort them after they would beat me, because it was a stressful experience for them. I wasn't allowed to cry. I would be beaten for making a face expression they didn't like. It was random and unexplainable.

Another narcissistic person created a game where they would give me wrong instructions for a task, then torture me when I did exactly as they instructed me to. It got to a point where I would beg them to tell me what to do correctly, and they would respond with a laughing 'you should be old enough to know this' and they would be even happier to beat me up and scream at me for getting it wrong. This person not only threatened to kill me regularly, but often made me believe I was in my last few seconds of life, putting me in position where I believed I was about to die. They forced me to work for them in unsafe conditions, heavy physical jobs, where I was not allowed to say I'm tired, not allowed to cry, and even after I'd do everything, they would still tell me I didn't deserve to eat. I was a child. I didn't think for a second I was being abused. I was already brainwashed to believe that everyone else had it worse, and that I was lucky.

I had no identity besides existing for them, I had no free will except to try and make myself into something they could use, and if I didn't do a good enough job, I'd be ostracized. They loved beating me, screaming at me and making me cry, and then they'd leave me in a room crying without being allowed to make any noise, while they laughed in the room next to me, as a family, loudly so I could hear what a great time they were having. They would treat other children gently in front of me in order to try and make me jealous. They would revise every part of what they did to me if I ever tried to bring it up. I wasn't allowed my own perspective, opinion, or complaint. I wasn't even allowed to remember the abuse correctly. I would be locked in a room and questioned and punished if my opinions weren't to their liking.

I don't believe this is something anyone is capable of doing. I don't believe anyone of us is capable of torturing a kid until the kid begs to be killed. I don't believe most of us are capable of erasing a child's point of view, their reality, their humanity to the point where the child is forced to live a life where they will either comply or be killed, and they will be tortured no matter what. This isn't a regular thing that a person can easily do.

Luckily, us who have been through this, have noticed that there is a specific pattern to their behaviour. That they use almost identical phrases with which their invoke guilt, fear and hopelessness. That they can go frighteningly fast from rage to laughter to acting hurt. That they enforce their will over ours with a specific type of terror that triggers both our survival instincts and our compassion and shame. That we've been groomed by them in an almost identical way - to not believe that we're allowed our own feelings, memories, opinions, point of view, or freedom. That we have learned to exist only to be an extension of them.

We also all noticed that we're all absolutely, beyond terrified of them, and that we don't feel we're allowed to say it, or think it. That we're taught by terror to keep believing that they're good people, that they do none of it on purpose, not even the most extreme, insane, egregious abuse. That they will go to any length, even committing more atrocities, to escape accountability. That they use tactics of darvo, gaslighting, double-bind, planting insecurities, triangulating, future faking, discarding, love bombing, mirroring, smear campaigns, projection, scapegoating, silencing, throwing tantrums, victim playing, like it's in their second nature. That they're genuinely, absolutely terrifying and almost unreal in how far they're capable of going. And most of all, that they are dangerous, and capable of completely turning another human being into their puppet, and never think for a second that it might be wrong. To them, we are nothing more but toys to manipulate, control, and discard. We are disposable. There is no limit to what they can do to us, because to them, we are not alive. They would do to us what normal people wouldn't do to a corpse. And they feel superior for it.

People abused by narcissists from early age are likely to develop the most complex and extreme disorders, complex ptsd and dissociative identity disorder being some of them, because that's what it takes to survive being a child and existing next to a narcissist. This means that small children need to be shattered in pieces in order to please the narcissist. Others that are very common are eating disorders, anxiety, depression, paranoia, avoidant personality disorder, panic disorder, and compulsions to cater to everyone's needs, to the point of our own destruction. This is what they make of us, on purpose, in order for us to be of use to them. And they will forever insist it's their right.

When I'm saying the word 'narcissist', I am not referring to 'anyone diagnosed with npd', I am referring to a person who will do this to a child, and insist on doing it for the rest of the child's life. I am writing it because I don't want children to have to live like this forever. I am not aiming to dehumanize the narcissist, their actions show who they are, I am saying, be careful and aware that this person will dehumanize you. That you are disposable to them. That making you feel good in order for you to like them, is a game to them, and one they're very good at. That playing the victim at you and demanding justice, will easily manipulate you into standing against the victims of abuse and talking down to them for 'dehumanizing their abusers', and being 'ableist to the npd', after being tortured past the point of return by those people.

A lot of us are permanently damaged by what's been done to us. We are not asking for justice. We're not asking for revenge. We are asking to be safe. We're asking for this to stop. We're asking for children not to be left alone with people who are dangerous to this level. We're asking you to understand that a narcissist left alone with a child means a child in danger.

It's common to not be aware just how bad it can go, because we think that most humans know not to torture a child. We believe that nobody would do things to children that narcissists do. If you read the stories of the survivors, you'll find out what actually happens behind closed doors. The themes of torture, dehumanization, sexual abuse, brainwashing, violence, and extreme cruelty are common, even towards toddlers.

I need you to not attack those children when they grow up and say they no longer want to be around narcissists. I need you to understand that they know what they're talking about when they say it's not safe, that they want to be protected. The society already failed to protect them at their most vulnerable, and they had to make it alive by their wits alone. And now you won't even let them speak without attacking them? It's inexcusable.

If you want to know about the narcissists, read what their victims have gone through. Then make a judgment on whether we're allowed to speak, and whether it's worth warning others to hold caution. I've heard and read stories of narcissistic parents sex-trafficking their own child, holding them captive and locked up and convincing them it's right to do this, using brutal punishments to 'train' them into inhumane slave-like behaviour, keeping the children in state so terrified the children wished they were dead. And in all those cases, they still convinced the children to love their parents, and to never blame them for any kind of abuse. Yes, even in the sex-trafficking cases.

Fighting for those children to realize that they didn't deserve that, is the only correct thing to do. Fighting to help them realize they're in danger, and that they deserve safely, it's not only right but extremely necessary, it's what we all should be putting all of our energy into.

Wanting to keep others safe will never be wrong. Wanting to protect those who still have their identity, their sense of self, their undamaged humanity, their free will and their point of view, that's worth fighting for! And above all, those who already lost it all, need to be protected. We cannot allow for already badly wounded people to be dehumanized over and over again. Nobody deserves that.

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Four

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: Refusing to believe that the kids are dead, Joyce tries to connect with her son and Steph. The boys give Eleven a makeover in order to connect with their loved ones. Hopper turns up his detective game. Steve has a slight breakdown, while Nancy and Jonathan form an unlikely alliance.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 13,951

🎲Date: 7/4/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Heavy Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; One Comment About Being A Pedo; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Total Mess; Jessica & Charles Harrington's A+ Parenting; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Happy 4th, everyone! What a better way to celebrate then with an angsty fic? Heads up, this does contain less of us being in the Upside Down, and there's a reference to Hopper's childhood with Joyce and Claudia. There's also a bit of a mystery surrounding Steph and Dustin's father, so keep that part buried in your mind for future chapters. Also... there's a bit of a cameo in here I think everyone will enjoy :)

Nancy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The view of the quarry on the TV made her feel sick. She wants to change the station but she can’t – none of her family can’t because the news is so shocking. It wasn’t until her little brother came home, tears streaming down his face and running into their mother’s arms for comfort, that she realized it was all real. 

After a few minutes of gathering her strength, she manages to slip into the kitchen to grab the phone, dialing a number close to heart. She wipes the corner of her eyes, trying to put up a good front before the call. She has to be the strong one here, especially since–

Then the other lined beeps followed by a voice that says, 

[ ‘Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later, or leave a message after the tone, and hang up when you’re finished.’ ]

“Shit.” She whispers, and waits for the beep again. “Steve, it’s Nancy, it’s…” She sighs. “Listen, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Just give me a call back, please.”

She hangs up, taking a moment to think. Whether he admits or not, she knows he still cares in some way for Stephanie. And he’s not going to be in the best state if he’s seen the news.

Not even thinking twice about this sudden thought, Nancy grabs her car keys out of the bowl, ignoring when her parents asked her a question and leaves out the front door. 

She just has to know if he’s okay.

That’s it.

That’s all she needs to know and do.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will was… mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. Heavy on the latter. They thought they were finally doing well, they thought they were finally going to get an answer –a way to get back– but every time they tried, they get back to square one. 

The beast that had no face, its growls could send shivers down their spines and curse their souls, kept finding them. But how? It had no eyes, no nose, no ears, just a mouth hidden its folds; How could such a thing keep finding them? And that voice…

The voice was new. And for some reason it scared him more than the beast.

.

// I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING. //

.

I know what you’re doing. 

What does that mean? Could the monster actually speak? Was someone else in this place with them? Did someone or something not want to escape? What is it? What is the answer? What can they do?

He doesn’t know who slowed down first, but they eventually stopped somewhere in the trees. Will was taking in the cold, dirty air, a tickle was blooming in his throat while doing so. He felt like he was on the verge of getting sick, probably the temperatures doing, but didn’t want to express his concerns. They had other problems to worry about.

“What are we going to do?” He asked, unaware of the older girl’s swaying moments and gaze going distant. “Do we go back? Do we try another place? But that’ll probably be a waste right? But can really go back with that–”

“I’m s-sorry…” She whispers that it turned into a small pant. It was enough for him to turn around and question:

“Why?” He manages to spill out before her body drops like a stack of dominos. “Stephanie!!” He lunged forward, his tiny body was only good enough to cradle her head. “No… No…” 

He starts ripping everything on her away, the shotgun, her backpack, and holding her sleeping head in her lap. He knew this would have happened sometime soon, especially when she admitted earlier that she hasn’t slept since getting stuck here, too worried about his safety rather than her own, and now look where that’s gotten her. 

“Steph… come on. W-Wake up. Pl-Please…” Will pleads, lightly tapping her cheek. “Come on. You can’t do this to me now… w-why is this happening n-now?!”

Stranded in the woods, a monster lurking somewhere in the dark. 

What was a twelve year old boy going to be able to do? It’s not like he can carry her and all their belongings somewhere, right?

He couldn’t help but start crying, like a child scared of the creature under his bed, and started holding the teenager close like she was his lifeline.

“♪ C-Come o-on and l-let me know ♪”  He whispers, face pressed against hers. “♪ Sh-Should I-I stay or should I g-go? Should I-I stay or should I go now? If I g-go th-there will be trouble. If I stay it will be double– ♪” 

He sobs, shaking. “St-Stephanie…”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Telling a family about their loved one was never easy, especially since the deceased were from families he knew personally growing up. He still spoke carefully though after him and his men looked around the house just in case they missed something. He spoke softly, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she probably is.

“A trooper found something in the, uh… water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie… crashed her car, and they... made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” Hopper explains, but he can tell she’s not listening (at least not fully). “Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I’m saying?

“N-No…” She trembles, in denial. “Whoever you found… is not my boy. It’s not Will.”

“Joyce.” He says, reaching out to touch her shoulder, which she shrugged off. 

“No, you don’t understand. I talked to him… a half hour ago.” She sniffles, and tries to remember every detail. “He was... He was here. He was... He was talking with these.” She gestures to the lights. “Him and Stephanie. Th-They both were here.”

“Talking?” Hopper asked, his composure breaking. It was like looking in the mirror for him. He remembers the denial, the pain of losing a child of his own.

“Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no. And... And, uh…” She then points to the alphabet wall. “And then I made this so they could talk to me. ‘Cause they were hiding… from that... that thing.”

“The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?”

“Y-Yeah.” 

“Mom, come on, please.” Jonathan begs, heart breaking for his own mother. “You’ve gotta stop this.”

“No, maybe they’re… It’s after them!” She snaps, grabbing onto her son for his support, both physically and emotionally. “They’re in danger. We have to find Them! We—”

“What exactly was this thing? It was some kind of animal, you said?” Hopper asked, as she shook her head.

“Uh, no, it was… It was almost... human, but it wasn’t. It… It had these long arms and... it didn’t have a face.”

“It didn’t have a face?” His gaze meets the teenager’s, and he silently tells him to leave. Jonathan does, running off somewhere to cry himself. “Joyce–”

“It didn’t have a face…”

“Joyce, listen to me.” He helps her sit down on the couch, and he kneels before her. “Listen to me.” He starts getting teary eyed too. “After Sarah… I saw her, too. And I heard her. I didn’t know what was real. And then I figured out that it was in my mind. And I had to pack all that away. Otherwise, I was gonna fall down a hole… that I couldn’t get out of.”

“No, you’re... you’re talking about grief.” She shakes her head again. “This is different.”

“I’m just saying that you–” 

“No, I-I know what y-you’re saying, Hop. I sw-swear to you, I-I know what I saw. And I’m n-not crazy.”

“I’m not saying that you’re crazy.”

“N-No... You are. And I understand, but… God, I…” She sobs. “I need you to believe me. Please.” She then whispers, “Please.”

“Listen…” He takes her hands into his own. “I think you should go down to the morgue tomorrow and see him for yourself. It’ll give you the answers that you need. But tonight–”

“Oh, God…”

“-I want you to try to get some sleep, if you can.”

“Sl-Sleep?” She asks him, and he nods. She couldn’t comprehend this, couldn’t understand why he won’t believe her. She thought she could trust him, they’ve known each other through thick and thin and he’s just going to forget about all that? That’s…

That’s bullshit.

She shakes her head, pushing his hands away. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. And no one, I mean NO ONE, is going to change my mind.”

Hopper’s expression deepens. “Joyce–”

“Get out of my house.” She spats, and leaves the room. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The black BMW pulled onto Cornwallis Road and drove towards the destination he still has in the back of his head. The radio was up, a song that was setting the mood, or matching it more likely. 

[ ♪ If you leave me now

You’ll take away the biggest part of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go ♪ ]

His hands regripped the wheel, trying not to cry again.

[ ♪ And if you leave me now

You’ll take away the very heart of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go

Ooh, girl, I just want you to stay ♪ ]

He starts to slow, parking off to the side, a curb across the street where he needed to be. 

[ ♪ A love like ours is love that’s hard to find

How could we let it slip away? ♪ ]

He saw the lights were on, he saw her brother’s bike in the grass and her mother’s car in the driveway. He knows they’re both home, but did they know the news like he did? 

[ ♪ We’ve come too far to leave it all behind

How could we end it all this way?

When tomorrow comes and we;ll both regret

The things we said today ♪ ]

Steve swallows, debating whether or not he should go up there. Will Stephanie’s mom remember him at all? Will her little brother Dustin tackle him as soon as he remembers their history? But despite their shaky past, he still owes the family his condolences, right? 

But just as he was about to get out of the car, he perked up at the sound of sirens coming down the road, and could see the blue and red lights flashing in the night sky. 

Huh. Maybe they didn’t know. Yet even after the swarm arrived in front of the Henderson home, Steve couldn’t help but stay and wait.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Claudia was hysterical, probably more than Joyce was; Yet, she was also more accepting about their theory. Hopper repeated it again, the mother was sitting down with her youngest on the couch. “A trooper found something in the water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie crashed her car, and they made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” 

Claudia sobbed into her handkerchief. “Oh, my poor baby. Poor Will.” 

“I’m so sorry.” He frowns, his face softens again too. “I know this is going to sound hard, but can you come down to–”

“That’s bullshit.” Dustin interrupted, finally speaking. His face was still puffy and his eyes were red. From being a complete mess earlier, he now looks like he was full of rage.

Hopper blinks, confused. “What?”

“That’s a bullshit theory!” He yells, jolting up.

“Dustin!” Claudia scolds.

“What? It is!” He points to himself. “M-My sister is smarter than that! Will’s smarter than that! It doesn’t matter if they were being chased, they wouldn’t have fallen into the Quarry!” 

“Dustin!” She says again, and then looks at the other adult. “Chief, I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand.” Hopper replies, accepting the apology. Now it was his turn to look at the kid, treading water carefully. “Look, Son–”

“Don’t call me that!” Dustin says, shaking his head.

“Kid–”

“Then where’s the shotgun?!” He replies, making Hopper’s heart sink (He didn’t even think about that). “Huh? You found their bodies, then where’s the gun? And why did they take the gun in the first place? What made them run off the road? Who was chasing them? You aren’t answering any of the obvious fucking questions–”

“Dustin!” Claudia yells, grabbing her son by his wrist. “Show some respect.”

“Fuck, respect.” Dustin pulls himself free. “He ain’t doing his job.” And then he storms out of the room, his mother calling out his name and apologizing once again.

“No, don’t be.” Hopper reassures. “He just lost his only sister. I understand.”

She nods slowly. “Okay. What were we saying before he interrupted?”

“Just, in the morning, if you can, come down to the morgue to verify Stephanie’s body. I’ll already be there with Joyce and her son.” 

“O-Okay. I can do that.” She takes a shaky breath. “Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for trying to bring her home these past few days.”

His eyes widened slightly, not really expecting that kind of reaction. He was honestly stunned and felt like a failure again. “Claudia–”

“No. Don’t.” She takes his hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ve known you since middle school, I know how your mind thinks sometimes. So please don’t feel guilty. I know you were giving it your all to find these kids. Even though… I-It was… a t-terrible outcome, you still found my daughter. You still brought her home.” Another squeeze. “So thank you. James.”

Hopper was speechless, ending up just giving her a nod and a promise to see her tomorrow. As he steps outside, he swallows the urge to start crying again.

“You going to be okay, Chief?” Callahan asked, meeting him halfway down the driveway.

“I’ll be fine.” Hopper replies, a half-lie. “I just need to…” He trails off when he sees a certain someone across the way. What is he doing here?

Callahan follows his gaze, confused. “Hey, isn’t that the Harrington boy?”

“Wrap everything up. I’ll meet you at the station.” Hopper leaves him behind and starts walking towards his target. 

“I was going to pay my condolences but I saw you guys pull in.” Steve says, leaving against the driver door with a sad expression.

“Kind of creepy for someone who says they aren’t friends anymore.” Hopper pokes, hands on his hips – all business again.

“Just because we’re not friends, doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I mean, this house was practically my second home growing up.” It kind of hurts to say that. He looks down, can’t even look the man in the eye while asking this question, “So is it true?”

“Yeah.” Hopper says, sadly. “It is. I… saw the bodies myself.”

Steve shifted his weight around, his chest feeling tight. “Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” What was with all this in denial? “Look, son, I–”

“Are you going to be there at the morgue?” 

Well that was a weird question. “Yes. I will be.” Hopper pauses. “Why?”

Steve shifted again, this time looking the adult in the eye. “‘Cause… there’s probably going to be something on… her body that her family’s not going to be able to explain. It’s…” He sighs. What am I even doing? She’s… gone. The Chief saw her body. This is all real it’s–

“Son?” Hopper said, getting a hum. “Continue? What do you mean about her family not going to be able to explain?”

He swallows, and stands straighter. “When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

His blue eyes rake over the scar, thinking. “You said it was a scar?” Hopper asked, getting a nod. “You know scars tend to fade over some time.”

“I know. But hers was much deeper than mine.” Steve pulls his sleeve back down. “If mine’s still here, I’m pretty sure hers is too.”

He takes a minute to process this. “Okay.” This was still leaving a weird feeling in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He has to, but how the fuck is he going to explain the still secretive accident to Claudia? He sighs. “Aren’t you going in?”

Steve shook his head. “Probably not.” His sad eyes fell on the house. “How distraught are they?”

“Her mother’s a mess, but is accepting, can’t say the same thing for her brother. If looks could kill, he would have.”

“Gotcha. I’ll just…” He swallows, eyes starting to sting again. “Say my condolences at the funeral.” Steve opens his door up, not making eye contact with the adult. “‘Night, Chief.”

“Hey.” Hopper says, stopping the door from being closed. But as soon as their gazes locked, his brain went to a halt. What else could he say? “Nevermind. Get home safe, ‘Kay?”

The teenager nods, letting his door be closed before pulling away. Hopper’s not sure why but…

He feels like he’s missing something here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was curled up in a ball on his bed. He was hugging a pillow tightly, tears quietly rolling down his face. He didn’t think he had anymore tears left in him, but they just kept on coming. 

His sister is dead.

If he didn’t see her body himself, he wouldn’t believe it. 

No more nights of bothering her to watch some cheesy movies.

No more waking up fighting over the bathroom and eating breakfast together.

No more friendly, stupid banters about cryptids.

No more listening to her about customers driving her up the wall.

No more could he slip under the covers with her when a nightmare overtakes him.

No more could he wait by the front door for her so they could go to school.

No more of… anything. It was just him and his mother now. Just him and his mother to make ends meet. 

He choked on the memories, gripping the pillow tighter. “Phanie…” 

.

.

.

The sound of static makes him jolt upright. Heart skipping a beat, he realizes it was coming from his bag. He groans, a mixture of frustration and sadness. He wasn’t in the mood for anyone right now, not even his friends. He just wanted to grieve in peace until at least morning.

He wiggles his walkie talkie out, pulling the antenna all the way up and pressing the button. “Look, guys, please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk right now. Okay?”

He lets go of the button, waiting for a reply that was nothing more than static came, followed by–

[ ♪–on and let me know ♪ ] 

He drops the walkie like it was made of fire and practically jumps a few feet back. The static was loud, but you couldn’t miss that voice. That voice coming from the speaker sounded a lot like–

[ ♪ Should I stay or should I go? 

Should I stay or should I go now? 

Should I stay or should I go now? 

If I go there will be trouble 

If I stay it will be double– ♪ ]

He heard a sob, and a whisper of,

[ St-Stephanie… ]

Dustin’s eyes widened with realization. There’s no way he could miss that. He almost felt like crying again. 

“...W-Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy’s knuckles knocked on the door thrice, before trying the doorbell. She crossed her arms when the wind blew harder, wishing she had enough time to grab a sweater or something before she left. She tries the door again after silence, this time the door springs open. She’s met with a woman who was taller than her, dark locks a complete mess, face flushed red. 

She batted her eyes at the girl while clinging to the door. “May I help you?”

“Uh… is, uh, St-Steve home?” Nancy asked, trying to keep her gaze up high on the woman that was clearly wearing just a bra and panties.

“Steven?” She hissed, defensively. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m… Nancy, his girlfriend.” She recognizes the voice. “I think we spoke on the phone–”

“OH! NANCY! Yes! The Wheeler, girl. Yes, I remember. Awe…” Jessica Harrington reached up and pinched her cheek. “You’re just as adorable as I imagine.”

“Um, t-thanks. Uh–” Nancy wouldn’t be lying if she wasn’t already feeling uncomfortable. “Is this a bad time? I can come back–”

“No, no, no. Never. Never, dearie.” She said, practically dragging the teenager inside. “Come in, Steven should be back any minute now.” She shuts the door, head turning in another direction. “Charles, are your pants on? Our son’s girlfriend is here.” She smiles. “So how did you two meet? Are you in the same class?”

“Um–”

“So you’re our son’s lover?” Charles Harrington slurred out as he came literally stumbling into the hallway. Face as red as a tomato, hair disheveled and missing his shirt. “I never understand why Steven decided to hide you. You seem so nice.”

“Uh, thank– thank you.” Nancy said, hiding the urge to scrunch up her nose at his alcoholic breath. “Look, if he isn’t here, I’ll catch him in the morning–”

“Nonsense. You should stay.” Jessica urges. “It’ll be nice to get to know you.”

“Yes. Please–” His hand comes up to the girl’s shoulder. “Come sit with us.”

Nancy, this time, visibly shuddered. “I–”

“Get your hand off her, Dad.” Steve’s voice echoed out as he entered through the back door. His face seemed calm, but nobody could miss the fear in his eyes and the anger that was making his hands into fists. 

“Steve?”

“Steven!” His mother exclaimed, all bubbly. “We were just getting to know your girlfriend.”

Steve gets between them, pulling Nancy close and away. “Mom, please, put a robe on. Dad, a shirt.” 

“Yeah, son.” His father said, his hand coming around and grabbing a firm hold of the front of his child’s sweater. “How come we weren’t informed about this news, hmm? How could you do this to me and your mother?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Steve’s face, as he started pushing his girlfriend towards the door subtly. “Um, well, Dad–”

“You better have a good explanation.”

“Yeah, Steven.” Jessica said, her hand finding his forearm. “What gives?”

“‘Cause we-we’ve only been dating for a week.” Steve spits out the lie.

Nancy flashes him a look of confusion. “A week?”

“Yeah.” He gives a look now, hoping she gets it. “A week, Nancy.” He then sees the realization in her eyes.

“Yes.” She smiles and chuckles. “Well, it’s a week and a half, actually..”

“Oh, you and your technicality.” He smiles too, hand reaching back to the door knob. “That’s what won me over in math class. Uh, Listen, Mom, Dad, uh, we’ll have to plan a proper dinner out so you get to know Nancy. Okay?”

“Sure she doesn’t want to stay over for a bit?” His mother asked, with a look he didn’t like. “We don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. But it is a school night, and it’s late. We also got uh, uh, a huge test tomorrow. So we should get some rest, you know?”

She frowns. “Awe. Okay. We can definitely plan a date.”

“Perfect! We can talk about it later, uh–” Steve opens the door and manages to get out his parents’ holds. “Just going to walk her back to her car.”

“Like a proper gentleman.” She smiles again, and gaze trails to the Wheeler. “You definitely scored with my son.”

“Oh, for sure. I agree.” Nancy said, getting forced outside.

“Be right back.” Steve replies, stepping out too and shutting the door.

“Steve– Hey!” He grabs her hands and strings her along quickly; She felt like they were sprinting down the driveway. “Steve?” She tests out his name as he takes a look back at his house before picking up the speed. “Steve! Talk to me! What is–”

“Don’t come to my house.” He blurts out the moment they are in front of her car. 

She blinks. “What?”

“Don’t…” He exhales. “Don’t come to my house. At least at night. ‘Cause my parents like to… party, or…” He groans. “Actually, don’t come to my house alone. When my parents are here, make sure you only come when I’m there or I’m with you, alright? Do you understand?”

No, she certainly does not. “Steve, what do you mean? Why don’t you–”

“Did my mom say anything?”

Another blink. “What?”

“Did my dad do anything? Like… h-how uncomfortable were you? B-Be honest, Nance.”

“Steve, I don’t…” She trails off when she finally sees him whole. He seemed so… distraught. And she knows it’s probably not just about the sour news of Stephanie. For some reason, he’s scared of her going into his house. “Steve.” She tries again, softer. “What’s going on? Are your parents hur–”

“Why are you here, Nancy?”

She frowns, worriedly. “I was just wondering if you heard the news?”

Steve looks down at his feet. “About Will and Stephanie?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “I-I heard…”

Nancy gently cups his face. She could see the corner of his eyes were red and irritated. Crying. Steve must have been crying. “Are you okay?”

Steve stayed quiet, building up the courage to speak – to make it sound confident. “Yeah. I’m fine. It just… caught me off guard.”

“You sure? You can talk to me. I’m not going to–”

“How’s your brother?”

She bites her lip. “Mike’s… really upset. I mean who wouldn’t be when it’s your friend.”

Steve hums. “Maybe you should go back. Check in on him.”

“But, Steve–”

“I appreciate you coming over and making sure that I’m okay.” A bittersweet look blooms on his face. “Really. Your compassion is one of the things I love about you. But I think you should go home to your family. They’re probably wondering where you’re at.”

She shakes her head. “Steve–”

“As for my parents, forget about tonight. I’ll… I promise I’ll explain them to you one day, but for now, just forget you ever met them. Okay?”

She gave in, not wanting to argue. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” He gives her a quick kiss, and pulls away. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night…” Her blue eyes trail him as he heads inside, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Was he going to be alright? Should she call someone? Should she–

A twinge snapped behind her.

She turns around, the sound coming from the woods. She squinted and took a small step – a shadow moved across the bushes – tall, lanky… no face– What?

She heard the shadow shift around again, and then swore she heard a growl coming from it. Paling instantly, Nancy took small steps back towards her car, feeling around for the handle. Once she grasps it she gets in, hands tightly on the steering wheel. Swallowing, she takes one look back over her shoulder, the shadow to have disappeared into the beyond. 

Death.

Disappearances.

A thing with no face.

What the hell is happening to Hawkins? 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself! He knows what he heard, he knows that was Will. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, his mind in overdrive on what and why and how this was even possible. But sometime in the night, an idea hit him hard. 

The next morning, he made sure his mother was okay, and fit enough to go to the morgue. She already told him the night before that he should stay home, playing the kid card on him. Usually, he would have been upset at this statement, but this time he decided it was time to hold his tongue. As soon as Dustin saw the car leave, he wastes no time to pop open his walkie talkie antenna, tuning into a certain channel. 

“Lucas, do you copy?” He said, waiting. He was met with static, but he just knows his friend is nearby and listening (His friends are never far away from their source of communication). “Lucas, come on, I know you’re there! This is urgent.”

Nothing.

“I’m serious. I’m not gonna stop until you answer.”

Nothing again. 

“Lucas. Lucas! Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas–”

[ ‘Go away, Dustin. I’m not in the mood, all right? Over and out.’ ]

“No, not ‘out’. I’m not messing around, okay?” He starts pacing around his living room. “This is about Will and my sister. Over.”

[ ‘What about them? You mean about their funeral? Over.’ ]

“No, not their funeral. Fuck their funeral!”

[ ‘W-What?’ ]

“Just get over to my place, stat. And tell Mike to bring Eleven too.”

[ ‘Eleven? Why? She’s the reason–’ ]

“JUST DO IT! OKAY!” He yells, face red, open hand in a fist. “Over and out!”

[ ‘Dustin–’ ]

Dustin pushes the antenna down and shuts the device off. He knows Lucas will listen, even if he thinks he’s lost his mind, he’ll still listen. His eyes fall on a family picture on one of the side tables, his heart skipping a beat.

“Don’t worry, guys. We’re going to find you no matter where you are.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, down at the Coroner’s office, Hopper waited impatiently for… what? Half an hour now? He sighs. “What’s taking so long?”

“Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.” The receptionist, Patty said, upset as well.

Hopper perks up at this news. “Without Gary?” That doesn’t make sense. “Where’s Gary?”

“Well, I thought you knew. Those men from State, they... they sent Gary home last night.”

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.” 

Someone from State? I mean, the crime scene made sense, but the autopsy? Why would they send someone to an autopsy? On two kids no less? He wanted to ask more questions, but that’s when the oldest child of the Byers’ family came out looking sick to his stomach.

Hopper can tell he was trying to hold it all together the best he could. Poor kid. 

“How’s your mom doing?” He asked, after a while of silence. 

Jonathan sniffled, head still hanging low. “I don’t know.” He whispers.

“How long’s this stuff been going on? With the lights and, uh… Will and the thing in the wall?”

“Since the first phone call, I guess.” A sob. “You know, she’s had anxiety problems… in the past. But this… I don’t know.” He exhales shakily. “I’m worried it could be…” He shakes his head. “Ugh, I don’t know. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. My mom… she’s tough.”

“Yeah, she is.” Hopper said, getting a chuckle out of the kid. He then placed a firm hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey. She is.”

That got Jonathan to cheer up for just a second before it crashed down again. Joyce came storming out, the coroner following behind with a clipboard asking her to sign; Which she’s flat out refusing.

“I don’t know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!” She shouted, waving him off.

“Joyce, wait a second.” Hopper said, standing.

“No!” She snapped, and hustled out the door, Jonathan following right behind. As soon as she leaves, it was like a chain reaction, because Claudia just arrived. 

She already had a hand covering her mouth at the sight of seeing Joyce. “I-I… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Hey, hey–” Hopper comes over reassuringly. “Hey, Claudia. It’s okay. I know it’s hard, but it is necessary.” He sees her closing her eyes to steady herself. “Would you like me to come in?” She nods. “‘Kay. Let’s go. Come on.”

He walks her to the back, telling the coroner who they’re here for, and was left waiting for him to get the body. 

“I don’t know how to thank you, James. You’ve always seemed to help my family when we’re in a rut.” Claudia said, trying to hold it together. 

“Just doing my job.” He replies, with a warm smile.

“Still.” She looks up at him fondly. “I don’t think I appreciated you enough when you helped put Walter away.”

Walter. He remembers her shitty husband very clearly.

He nods. “Well, if it wasn’t for that anonymous tip, I wouldn’t have been able to have done that.”

She hums. “Yes, the tip.” She sighs. “I wonder who has the guts to do that.”

Yeah, he always wondered who the tipper was too. 

“You ready, Ma’am?” The coroner asked, after wheeling on the table.

Claudia nods, her hands squeezing together. “Yes.” She inhales. “Show me.”

He does so, and she holds back the urge to cry again upon seeing her daughter’s body. She couldn’t help but wonder why God would take such a beautiful girl.

“Oh, god… that’s her.” She mutters, biting her lip.

As Hopper was able to keep his composure, he was suddenly hit with a memory like a speeding truck. He almost completely forgot about what the Steve Harrington kid told him last night.

.

“When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

.

The scar. Of course! How could he forget? His lips tugged into a frown, and began with, “Claudia, there’s…”

Wait a minute. 

His gaze went straight for where the boy told him the scar would be but there was…

Nothing.

He blinked and looked on the other shoulder just to be sure but there was nothing either. If Steve’s scarred, then hers should have been, right?

“Chief?” Claudia said, pulling him out of his trance. “Did you say something?”

His eyes glance at her and then back at the body before shaking his head. “No.” Then back at her. “Never mind.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve was late to school the first time in a while. His clothes looked a bit sloppy, his hair did too, and he was practically dragging his backpack on the floor with only its handle. He had managed to avoid the girlfriend talk this morning with his parents since they were both hungover and still in bed. He’s not really sure how he’ll handle it later (If they actually remember Nancy that is). 

He took his time moving through the halls, trying to straighten up his posture, to put up somewhat of a nice expression. What would Tommy and Carol say? Would they belittle him? Ignore him? Pretend that the death of a school student didn’t exist? And what about Nancy? Will she say anything? Will she ignore him too?

He frowns, the intercom buzzing above.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Stephanie Henderson in the gymnasium 10am. Do not go to second period. Classes shall resume afterwards. //

An assembly? For Stephanie? How many people will actually go? How many people would actually be respectful? She wasn’t exactly miss popular.

He shakes his head. Don’t even think that, Harrington. It’ll be fine. It’ll be…

He trails off as soon as he rounded the corner. He didn’t need super sight to know what it was. For some reason instead of leaping towards it like he should be, he was slow, sick by the sight. Someone, probably more than one, had vandalized her locker. Someone had spray painted, egged, beat the living hell out of it with either a bat or a crowbar, all because she was what? The weird girl? The girl who was nerdy? The girl who likes stuff only guys like? The girl who’s vocabulary is like a sailor? 

The girl who doesn’t fit in unless it’s with the “freaks”?

With disgust, Steve pulled off the missing poster of her. Someone had scribbled horns, covered the eyes, and called her a freak in bright red. How could someone with a heart do this to the one of the kindest girls he’s ever met?

He crushed the paper in his hand, before opening up the locker, some belonging falling out. He sighs, dropping his bag before deciding to tidy this up. Maybe he should bring her family her things so they don’t have to see this mess?

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in class?” A teacher, Mrs. Trebecky said, hands on her hips.

Steve glances over at her, his look telling it all. “I’m just trying to clean it up.” Her eyes trail over, finally seeing what he was talking about. Yet he didn’t care if he got scolded or got detention for skipping class, this was more important. But to his surprise, there was a key suddenly dangling in his face.

“There’s a storage closet around the corner. Use whatever you need.” She replies, and he takes it. “I have to prepare the gym for the assembly, but if you need something else, feel free to come get me.”

Steve clenches the key close as she leaves, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. At least she wasn’t mad. 

He starts walking to where she said it was, only to spot another odd sighting. There was a boy (who looked oddly familiar to him) leaning against the wall right by the door – the same door that was actually opened. Raising an eyebrow and slowing his pace, he didn’t know what to think or even say before the boy saw him coming. It was like a match had been lit under his feet, the boy jerked up so quickly, and threw the door open even wider.

“We’ve been spotted! We gotta go!” He shouted and took off. 

Steve then watched as two other teenagers came running out, faster than anyone on the football team. What the hell is that all about?

But he chose to ignore it, opening the door fully, nearly clashing with some else that was left behind in the group. The person seemed startled to see him, taking a small step back and growing a bit paler. It didn’t take the King of highschool to realize who this is – the person with brown curls tucked back in small ponytail, with a wardrobe that reminded him of Stephanie – The person was know another than:

.

Eddie Munson.

.

Well now he knows why he looks scared. Steve nearly cringes and cusses at himself out loud for what he’s done in the past. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Instead, he kept his blank expression and started moving around him. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Munson.” He replies, looking over all the cleaning supplies on the shelf.

“It’s…” Eddie begins, still tense, but confused by how simple and nice Steve sounded. “Fine. Um… Wh-What brings you here? N-Need something?”

“Relax, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Man, how many people has he hurt with his new personality? “I was going to clean up a vandalized locker.”

Eddie perks up, even more confused. “The Henderson girl’s locker?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… surprising.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Steve frowns, sparing a glance. That’s when he notices he’s holding a few sponges and a bucket. “Oh. Were… were you going to clean?”

“Um–” Eddie breaks his gaze. “M-Me and my boys saw it on our way in, thought we would clean it up. Hope I don’t get in trouble for picking the lock.” He ends with a quiet, nervous chuckle which honestly fueled the other boy’s guilt.

“Is that so?”

“Well… W-we do know what it’s like to have our lockers destroyed by the… ‘perfectionists’.” 

Perfectionists, fuck. Steve swallows and mentally strangles himself. What have I done?

He exhales quietly, and starts gathering things. “You should go.”

Eddie’s distant gaze snapped right back at him. “What?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve says, not looking at him. “I know you’ve been trying to graduate.”

“How–”

“Go.” Steve pressures. “Don’t…” Why was this so hard? “Don’t fall behind. Especially in Kaminsky’s class. He’s a hardass if you don’t listen and study.” 

Eddie was speechless. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe it was coming from the legend of the school himself (Guess there was a first time for everything, right?) “You sure? Doesn’t… Doesn’t the King of Hawkins High want to keep his good grades up?”

“I don’t care anymore.” Steve replies quickly, surprising the other teen again, but it was the truth. He could care less about all this right now. “Frankly, I didn’t want to even be here today, so…” 

He didn’t say anymore, instead he tried holding whatever he could in his arms. Silently, and luckily he noticed it in the corner of his eye, he saw Munson holding up the bucket as an offer. He takes it and thanks him. He loads it up and makes his way to leave, but stops in the doorway. 

“You know she liked your band.” Steve blurts out, getting another puzzled stare. “Uh, Fia, she– wait.” Fia. He almost forgot about his little nickname for her. It makes his stomach roll into knots as he tries again. “S-Sorry, Stephanie… really liked your band. She went to your show a few years back. Uh, the Lover’s Lake one. She is– w-was definitely a metal head.”

That seemed to surprise him a lot, because Eddie actually perks up with joy this time. There even was a smile tugging on his lips. 

“She’s seen Corroded Coffin?” He asked, intrigued. 

“Yeah. She really liked that opening song of yours.” 

“‘To Love a Monster’?” 

Steve nods, still remembering that day so clearly, still remembering the day he showed her the tickets. “She sang it for weeks afterwards. It was… funny. Cute– Awesome! It was awesome.”

Eddie gave him another look, one he couldn’t quite place. “That’s… amazing. I never knew that. Most of our fans are just people from our neighbourhoods.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, feeling his eye starting to sting. “Just thought I’d let you know that since you… offered to clean up her locker.” He swallows once more, and he tries to leave, but his conscience gets the best of him. It’s now or never, Harrington.

Looking like a kicked puppy, he faces him again. “I’m sorry.” Steve says, honestly. “I’m really, really sorry for everything I’ve done. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant with you and your– your bandmates, and I realize that I’m an asshole. A real fucking asshole, so– um…” He didn’t have to forgive him, he just wanted to get it out there. “I don’t need forgiveness, but at least accept it.”

Steve didn’t even wait for his answer, didn’t wait for a change on his face, and just left to finish what needed to be done.

Meanwhile, Eddie watches him leave just as his friends come running back, worriedness on their features.

“What did he do? Do we need to report him?” Gareth asked, scaredly.

“No, he…” Eddie still couldn’t believe the last few minutes even happened. “He apologized.” He looks over at them. “For being a dick.”

“What?”

“And then he said that Henderson girl went to our Lover’s Lake concert a few years back.” That response got his friends muttering amongst themselves. 

“She did?” 

“How would Harrington know that, though? All our tickets are limited.” Jeff asked.

“Unless…”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “They were friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin snuck his friends in from the back, immediately rambling last night’s situation. Of course he got looks of concern, and sentences of reassurance before he shook them all off and showed them. They sat around on his bedroom floor, fiddling with the walkie. It was faint, and it certainly wasn’t the song he heard last night, but he could tell by the mumbling words that it was in fact Will.

“We keep losing the signal, but you heard it, right?” Dustin said, looking between them.

“Yeah, I heard a baby.” Lucas said, looking at his friend like he had three heads.

Dustin looks offended. “A baby?”

He rolls his eyes. “Dustin, you obviously tapped into a baby monitor. It’s probably one of your neighbours.”

“Uh, did that sound like a baby to you? That was Will!” 

“Dustin…”

“Lucas, you don’t understand. He spoke last night. Words! He was singing that weird song he loves. And he even said my sister’s name.”

“Oh, well, if the of you heard your sister’s name, then I guess–”

“Are you sure you’re on the right channel?” Mike asked, genuinely invested in this.

A small smile blooms on Dustin’s face. Finally! At least someone believed him. “I don’t think it’s about that. I think, somehow, I was channeling him.”

“Like... like Professor X.”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah.” 

“Are you actually believing this crap?” Lucas asked, staring at Mike like he was the weird one here.

“I don’t know, I mean… Do you remember when Will fell off his bike and broke his finger? He sounded a lot like that.”

“Oh, my god.” Lucas groans “Did you guys not see what I saw? They pulled Will’s body out of the water. They pulled Stephanie’s body out of the water too. They’re dead!”

“Well, maybe it’s their ghost. Maybe they’re haunting us.” Mike replies.

“It’s not their ghost.” Dustin said, shaking his head. 

“So how do you know that?” Lucas pushes.

“I just do!”

“Then what was in that water?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin shoots to his feet. “All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive! If he’s alive, then there’s a good chance Stephanie is too. They’re out there somewhere. All we have to do is find them. And I know for fact…” He points at Eleven. “She’s the key.” He frowns, and looks her way (Guilt on his face). “I’m sorry for how I reacted last night. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, just the situation. But I know you’re really our only shot at finding them. Please forgive me.”

It took a second, but Eleven nods and smiles with understanding, lifting the weight of the boy’s shoulders. 

“Well…” Mike begins, stopping him from handing over the walkie. “If you want her to somehow channel them, this isn’t gonna work. We need to get El to a stronger radio. Like, Mr. Clarke’s Heathkit ham shack.”

Dustin perks up. “That’ll totally work!”

“The Heathkit’s at school.” Lucas butts in. “There is no way we’re gonna get the weirdo in there without anyone noticing. I mean…” He gestures. “Look at her.”

But the Henderson brushed him off. “Don’t worry about that. I have an idea.” And then they busted into his sister’s room. “You might have to roll up the pant legs and/or sleeves, but Phanie’s stuff should be able to fit you just fine.”

“Uh, no offense to Stephanie–” Lucas begins, watching him rummage through his sister’s drawers. “But she’s not exactly the definition of girly-girl.”

“So? Look, we just want to get El inside the school. Mike, go to my mom’s room and grab some of her makeup. Lucas, head to the basement, I think we might have some wigs left over from a couple Halloweens. Go!”

They scatter, and Dustin continues grabbing what he can and lays it out on the bed. “Here.” He tells the girl. “Try a couple outfits on. See what fits.”

El takes a moment to look at them, mesmerized. “Pretty?” She asks, puzzled.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “We’re going to make you look pretty. Or at least prettier.”

She bats an eye. “Prettier?” 

“Yeah. They say, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. Just because someone doesn’t think you’re pretty, doesn’t mean everyone else does.” It seemed to get her spirits up just as the other boys arrived with the stuff.

“Got the makeup.” Mike said, holding the pile in his arms.

“And I found a wig. Hopefully this works.” Lucas says, holding it up.

“Perfect.” Dustin gives the thumbs up. “Let’s do light on the makeup, and let’s put a braid in the wig.” After their tasks, the boys waited outside the door for her to change.

“Is that really the best wig you could have found?” Mike said, after a few moments of silence. 

“What’s wrong with the wig?” Lucas asked, offended.

“Don’t you remember? That was the wig Steph used to dress up as a clown.”

“It’s not that orange, Mike.” Dustin said, Lucas agreeing.

“It’s orange.”

“Dude, come on–”

The door opens, and El steps out to reveal the outfit she picked. It happened to be a Mötley Crüe band tee that was tucked into some jeans, a red and black plaid button up as a jacket and some converse; Her wig was in a neat braid and was accompanied with a headband.

“Wow.” Mike said, staring.

“It’s like my sister has a prodigy.” Dustin said, grinning. “Grunge girl, 2.0.”

“How do you feel?”

Eleven looks herself up and down before smiling at herself. “Pretty.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was pretty awkward to sit outside the cafeteria doors waiting to be called in and questioned by police. Nancy was the first to be called in, the first to have a parent actually show up to observe. It felt weird, and she could feel her mother’s eyes watching her closely.

“This argument you and Barbara had? What exactly was it about?” Powell asked, after reading over his notes.

Nancy gives a half-shrug. “It wasn’t really an argument. Barb just wanted to leave. I didn’t, so, I… I told her to just go home.”

“Then what?”

“Then I went upstairs to put on some dry clothes.”

“And the next day, you went back and…” Callahan reads over his notes too. “Saw a bear, you’re thinking?

“I don’t know what it was, but… I think…” She frowns. “I think maybe it took Barb. You need to check behind Steve’s house— 

“We did. There’s nothing there. There’s no sign of a bear.”

“And no car.” Powell adds.

She blinks, confused. “What?”

“Look.” Callahan sighs. “We figured that Barbara came back last night and then she took off, went somewhere else. Has she ever talked to you about running off? Leaving town, maybe?”

“No. No, Barb wouldn’t do that, ever.” Nancy assures.

“She wasn’t maybe upset about the fact that you were spending time with this boy?” Powell glances down again. “Uh, Steve Harrington?

“What? No!”

“Maybe she was jealous because she saw you go up to Steve’s room?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“Steve and me, we’re... we’re just friends. We... we just talked.”

“Just talked?” Callahan gives her a look.

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. Just talked.” She wanted to say something else until the door opened, showing off to another officer.

“Hey–” He said, thumb jerking over his shoulder. “The Hagan and Perkins kids, they’re parents aren’t coming, they refuse for us to talk to their kids. Harrington’s parents said they’re too busy with work to come, but have given us permission to talk to their son.”

Powell sighs, looking over his partner who shrugged. “Alright. Send them home. Except Harrington, have him come in. You–” He looks at Nancy. “You’re dismissed.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So, Gary, tell me about these troopers that brought in the kids.” Hopper asked, after settling Hawkins local coroner down. He told him to come down to the station, offering him a cup of joe as he tries to get a few things straightened out. He still finds this whole… State taking over everything is a bit odd.

“It was about six of ’em, I’d say.” Gary replies, with a nod.

“They’re all Staties?”

“Yes, sir. Never seen that many troopers come with two bodies before.”

“They told you that they were gonna take care of the autopsy, huh?”

“Yeah. Claimed jurisdiction. Kicked me out. Well, it all seemed a bit over the top to me, considering…” He looked a bit nervous about this. 

“Considering what?” Hopper asked, suspicious. 

“Considering this was Will Byers and Stephanie Henderson and not John F. Kennedy.”

So this wasn’t just weird to me? Great. His eyes catch something on the tv, making him stand up. “Thanks for stopping by, Gary.”

“Sure thing.”

Hopper tunes everything else out as he turns up the volume, listening as a state trooper talks to the reporter about the incident. 

.

< -let the people know that, uh, the troopers are on duty and you should be safe, because we think this is just an isolated incident. >

< State trooper David O’Bannon, thank you so much for your help. >

< Thank you, sir. >

.

O’Bannon. Gary. Staties. Hawkins Lab. Hopper’s frown deepens. What does this all mean?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And that’s when Jim came up with another question that he needed to answer. Something that’s been nagging him since yesterday. So that’s how he found himself at Hawkins High School. He had to swerve around the teens leaving the gymnasium from Stephanie’s assembly, and just hoped that his guys were still in the cafeteria questioning some suspects. Well… hopefully the one he really wanted to talk to was still there.

“Oh, hey Chief.” Callahan calls out, just as Hopper bursts through the doors.

Hopper’s gaze trails to the teen in questioning – and thank god it was the person he was looking for. With a serious look he storms over, completely ignoring everything and everyone else.

“We just got done with–”

“I need you to give me the room for a second.” Hopper blurts out, the two officers staring. “Now.” Callahan and Powell waste no time to get up and leave, the whole place growing silent immediately. 

Steve glances between the door and the police Chief, confused. “Is there a problem?”

Without saying anything, Hopper reaches over and lifts Steve’s left arm sleeve, seeing the scar again. Blinking, and kicking his senses into high gear, the teenager pulls his arm away – the officer looking like he was scared. 

“Dude, what the fu–”

“How long ago was that?” Hopper asks, practically fidgeting in his seat. 

“I’m sorry?”

“How long ago did you get the scar?”

“Um, I…” Steve pauses to think. When did he get it? “Three… three years ago? Maybe longer?”

“And you said both your injuries were deep? Especially Stephanie’s?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

Hopper suddenly is overcome with worriedness, causing him to look around and lowers his voice. “Listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I’m only going to say it once. Understood?” He waits for the teenager to nod again before going. “Good.”

He takes a deep breath. “Look, her mother’s a mess, hysterical. And her brother is just… angry. I want to ask them stuff, but I think it’ll be an emotionally… fusing answer. They’re not going to be able to give me something basic. So what I’m trying to say is, I don’t care what happened between the two of you, but be honest. How well did you know this girl?”

And Steve, of course, doesn’t lie (he too wants to know what the hell’s going on). “Pretty well, I like to think. I mean we were tied at the hip since the age of five. We never really went anywhere without each other.” He frowns, scared. “You’re kind of making me nervous. What’s going on?”

Hopper looks around again, getting closer. “Just answer my questions. How likely was it for Stephanie to pick up Will that night when she saw him stranded?”

“Highly.” Steve says, truthfully. “She loves her brother’s friends.”

“How likely was it for her to protect him from whatever was chasing them?”

“Highly. That’s the kind of person she is. Putting herself before others.”

With each answer, Hopper’s heart picks up. “How likely was it for her to take a weapon if she felt like she was in danger?”

“She’s not exactly a violent person, but… if she was in danger, she’s smart enough to arm herself.”

“How much is she familiar with the woods around here?”

“Only certain areas she really knows like the back of her hand.”

“What about the Quarry?” 

“The Quarry?” Steve said, fond memories coming in. “That used to be our spot when we were kids. We know the ends and out of it pretty well.”

Now Hopper feels destroyed. He was half expecting this answer but still. It wasn’t easy to accept. “So… hypothetically speaking, if she was being chased in the direction of the Quarry, how likely would she have fallen in?”

Steve gets taken aback, his heart sinking. “Unlikely. She always knew where she was going.” He was oblivious to the way the Chief suddenly looked. “So it wasn’t the news making a theory? Stephanie and Will actually fell into the Quarry?”

“Fuck.” Hopper says, standing up and starts leaving.

Steve gets up as well, following. “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

Steve just nods, scared to talk back as the Police Chief finally left with the answer he was worried about – while Harrington was also left with a question that was now answered. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad.” Mike says, as they entered the school. Right on cue, someone came on the PA, which is the perfect cover up for them.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period. //

“It’s locked.”

“What?” Lucas said, brushing by Mike to try the door.

“Hey, do you think you can open it? With your powers?” Dustin asked, hopefully. But before anything could be resolved, their teacher just so happened to appear around the corner. 

“Boys?” Mr. Clarke said, startling them. “Assembly’s about to start.”

“We know. We’re just, you know…” Mike trails over, pretending to be sad. 

“Upset.” Lucas finishes.

“Y-Yeah, d-definitely upset.” Dustin adds.

“We need some alone time.”

“To cry.”

“Yeah, listen… I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let’s just be there for Will, huh? And then…” Mr. Clarke fishes his keys out of his pocket, tossing them over. “The Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?” The boys smiled and nodded eagerly. “I don’t believe we’ve met. What’s your name?”

El’s eyes widened, and stutters, “Eleven–”

“Eleanor!” Mike corrects. “She’s my, uh–”

“Cousin.” Lucas says.

“Second cousin.” Dustin blurts out. 

“She’s here for Will and Stephanie’s funeral.” Mike finishes. 

Mr. Clarke frowns, bittersweetly. “Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances.”

“Thank you.” She says.

“Uh, where are you from exactly?”

“Bad place–”

“Sweden!” Dustin shouts.

“I have a lot of Swedish family.” Mike explains. 

“She hates it there.”

“Cold!” Lucas adds, smiling nervously.

“Subzero.”

Mr. Clarke nods, deciding to just go along with this. “Shall we?”

“Yep!” They said, running along.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You lied to the police!” Karen snapped at her daughter as they entered the house.

“I didn’t lie!” Nancy shouted back, about to head for her room.

“How naive do you think I am!? You and Steve were just talking?”

The teenager gritted her teeth, stopping on the stairs. “We did just talk! Okay? I found out Steve used to know Dustin’s sister, and we talked about it! Is that what you want to know? Huh? It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter!” Her mother shouts back.

“No!” Nancy scoffs. “It is all bullshit! It has nothing to do with Barb and she’s missing. And something terrible happened to her. I know it. I know it! And no one is listening to me!” She storms off towards her room, her mother shouting her name repeatedly. “Just leave me alone!”

And then her door slams shut.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Listening to the principal speak, the boys realized he probably was the only one who actually cares. The rest of the school, the students, looked like they were completely lost and not interested in listening to this. 

“Look at these fakers.” Mike mutters, irritated. 

“They probably didn’t even know his name till today.” Lucas scoffed.

The boys continued to survey the area, they heard the two school bullies laughing. Troy and James were laughing and mocking what the principal was saying about their friend Will, completely berating him. The Boys glared, all while Eleven put two and two together. 

“Mouth breather.” She says, remembering what Mike told her who was responsible for the gash on his chin.

He was actually surprised she remembered, and continued to try to ignore their laughing. But when assembly finally ended, Mike couldn’t hold back his anger any more.

“Hey! Hey! Hey, Troy! You... you think this is funny?” 

Troy stopped and scoffed. “What’d you say, Wheeler?”

“I-I saw you guys laughing over there.” Mike said, oblivious to the audience he was getting. “And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.”

“Didn’t you listen to the counselor, Wheeler?” James said, smiling. “Grief shows itself in funny ways.”

Mike balled his hands into fists, and ready to snap; Just as Dustin steps up to the plate.

“What did I say yesterday? You keep my sister’s and Will’s name out of your mouths.” He replies.

“So what, Henderson?” Troy shrugged. “Besides, what’s there to be sad about, anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay– and your sister… well… I didn’t take her to be a pedo for your little friend.”

Dustin’s face morphed into one of a killer. “You–”

“Asshole!” Mike shouted, and shoved their bully to the floor. Immediately, their audiences gasp in shock. 

Troy groaned, and stood up, charging up his fist. “You’re dead, Wheeler! Dead!”

But before he could release it, his whole body froze. Everyone stared in confusion, even Troy didn’t know what was going on. Then…

A student started laughing. 

“Dude, Troy peed himself.”

And the giggles broke out because everyone’s eyes were on his pants. Sure enough, there was a stain appearing and running down his pant leg.

“Holy shit!” Dustin said, his gaze looking back to El. She flashes the boys a cocky look before wiping the blood from her nose.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” The principal shouted as he entered the room.

“Shit! Let’s go!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan was surprised to see her at the Funeral home, interrupting his shopping (Although, seeing all these coffins and trying to find one for his little brother, maybe it was best to take a break). To his disbelief, she asked him to see his collection of photos from Steve’s backyard.

Of course, now he was nervous. Did she change her mind about protecting him the other day? Was she going to rat him out to the police after all? But instead, she carefully looked through them, until she found one he took of Barb. 

“That’s it.” Nancy said, putting on the weird distorted blur behind her friend. “W-What is that?”

He takes it from her hands, studying it hard. “It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using the wide angle.” He frowns, uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s weird.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?”

“No. And she was there one second and then, um… gone. I figured she bolted.”

She sighs. “The cops think that she ran away. But they don’t know Barb. And I went back to Steve’s… and I thought I… saw something. Some… weird man or… I don’t know what it was.” She glances over at him, realizing what she was doing. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m…” She grabs her purse and stands up. “I’m so sorry.”

Jonathan right there and then decided to bite the bullet. His mind wandered back to when the police came over to tell him and his mother what happened to Will. “What’d he look like?

She stops a few steps away, turning around. “What?”

“This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know.” She knows she is going to sound crazy when she tells him this. “It was almost like he… he didn’t have–”

“Didn’t have a face?”

Nancy stares at him, a bit freaked out. “How did you know that?”

Jonathan suddenly shakes his head, running a hand through his locks. “Shit…”

“What?”

“Shit.” He stands up, guilt on his face. “I think I fucked up.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

None of this made sense.

Steve had parked his car off the road and had walked a path he knew like the back of his hand. He found himself soon standing above the Quarry, a view of where the crime scene had happened. It was still tapped off and there were two cop cars still sitting there, observing. He frowns, and his brain starts going into overdrive. 

None of this made sense. 

She crashes her car not far from the boy’s house, they both run and somehow end up with a shotgun. But the police are saying they ended up in the Quarry, probably being chased but…

It doesn’t make any sense. The Byers house does face the road that takes you to the Quarry, but there’s no logical way that they would follow the road like that. If the theory was true, and they did run back to the house, they would more likely would have run through the front door, and out the back if someone was chasing them; Which means–

They would have ended up going into the woods, not the direction of the Quarry. And you wouldn’t make that harsh right turn unless the chaser was making you do that. No…

If someone was chasing you, the human reaction is to keep running straight until you find somewhere or someone safe. 

And if they did get pulled in the direction, there’s no way they would have just fallen in. Steph knows that place too well, and even though they were driven to the edge, wouldn’t the smart thing to do is use the shotgun on your chaser?

His mind wanders back to the conversation with the police chief. He seemed so spooked after he told him the truth. And what was the worried reaction after looking at his scar again? Unless…

Did… Steve nearly choked on the thought. Did her body not have the scar?

But if it didn’t have the scar then…

He gasps.

.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” 

.

Not you too? What does that even mean? Did Stephanie’s mother have doubts too? Did Will’s mother have doubts? Was he really doubting the whole situation from the beginning as well?

But his mind kept going back to Hopper and him just an hour ago.

.

 “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

.

Oh, god.

Steve couldn’t even believe what he was considering doing next.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper sat in street clothes at a bar, a shit eating grin on his face, a cigarette in hand, and he was keeping a close eye on the man sitting next to him who was currently watching a football game on the tv. He chuckles, getting the bartender’s attention. 

“Another, please. And another for my, uh, friend here.”

“Oh, thanks, man. Appreciate it.” The guy, a Statie, named David said. 

“Yeah, that’s all right. I’m, uh... I’m celebrating. My daughter, she won the spelling bee today.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Hopper said, chuckling. “‘Odontalgia’. That was the word. You know what it means?” He gets a ‘no’ for an answer. “It’s a fancy name for a toothache.” His grin grows. “Yeah, she’s smart. She’s real smart. Don’t know where she gets it from. I’ve been tryin’ to figure that out for years.”

“Your daughter, she got a name?”

Hopper’s brain short circuited for a second. “What?”

“Your daughter? What’s her name?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sarah. Her name’s Sarah.”

David grabs his bottle and holds it up. “To Sarah.” He said, and they clink their glasses. The police chief finally had the hook in place.

Hopper takes a sip, and turns up his acting skills. “I recognize you. Are you famous or somethin’?”

“Uh, you might have seen me on TV, I, uh... I found those kids.”

Gotcha, asshole. Hopper nods. “So, you on that case or what?”

“I just saw the kids on patrol, you know? Dumb luck.”

“So that Quarry, that’s, uh… that’s state-run, where they found those kids, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Hopper starts laughing quietly. “Yeah, well, that’s funny. ’Cause, you know, I know for a fact that it’s run by the Sattler Company. Frank Sattler? Decent guy, still got a couple operational quarries up in Roane.

David starts looking preoccupied. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.” He starts glaring. “So why are you lying to me, man?”

“What’s your problem, bud?” David snaps.

“I don’t have a problem. I’m just a concerned citizen.”

“Yeah? Well, stick your nose someplace else. Those kids are dead. End of story.” He stands up and throws some money on the counter. “Thanks for ruining the game, dick.”

Hopper shakes his head, almost pitying the guy. If only he had just been honest and open with him, he wouldn’t have to get his ass beaten. 

Kind of like right now. 

He had dragged the man behind the building, striking him multiple times to bruise his cheeks, and open wounds under his eyes and nose.

“Okay…” Hopper pins him to the wall. “Let’s try this one more time.” He grabs the man by the chin, squeezing. “Who told you to be out there? What were you doing out there?” He watched for an answer, and when he wasn’t getting any, he dialed back his fist.

“I don’t know!” David shouts. “I don’t know. They… they just told me to call it in and not let anybody get too close.

“Get close to what?!”

“The bodies.”

The bodies? Why? Hopper huffs and squeezes tighter. “Who do you work for? The NSA? Hawkins Lab?” He catches David’s gaze falling behind him and looks, spotting a black car in the distance. “Who is that?”

“You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Who is that? Hey! Hey!” Hopper takes off, pulling out his gun. But to no avail, the car was already off. And so was the Statie in question. He looked around, gripping his hair. “Fuck…”

What the fuck is going on?!

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will didn’t know what to do. Stephanie had passed out, and is still passed out after all this time. He had a blanket draped over her, and propped her head up against her backpack. He didn’t know if she was coming down with something either or not because the temperature was making his hands feel numb even with the gloves on.

What can he do? The only thought that crossed his mind was going back to his house and trying to contact his mother. But the problem with that is, is he’ll have to leave Steph behind. There’s no way he can carry her back, no way he can drag her back either without collapsing himself, and then what? The monster comes and gets them while they’re unconscious? 

Heck, no!

But… that means the first option is the only logical way to do this.

Will decides to lighten his load, only taking the shotgun with him and scrambles to find something to write on. He still had his school notebook in his bag and wrote a quick message on one of the pages.

WENT TO GET HELP. 

Then he placed it right next to her head. He hopes she doesn’t freak out too badly before and after reading the note, and hopes when they do reconnect she won’t scold him (She’ll probably will, but he can have hopes). 

He looks down at her one more time before retracing his steps back home. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Come on.” Mike ushered them inside the room, closing it shut and showing El where to sit by the radio.

“Now what?” Dustin asked, almost nervously. 

“She’ll find them. Right, El?”

El nods and closes her eyes as Mike starts turning the radio on. Almost immediately she locked onto something, a muffled voice coming through. The boys, minus Lucas, perked up at this with joy.

“She’s doing it.” Dustin said, smiling. 

“She’s finding them!” Mike says, nearly jumping with joy. 

“This is crazy.”

“Calm down. She just closed her eyes.” Lucas said, and right on cue, almost a way of telling him not to underestimate her, the light above them shattered and went out.

The boys gasped and huddled closer. Then that’s when they heard something else come through other than static. There was the sound of something banging. Banging on what? They couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“What is that?” Dustin asked, confused, but they continued to listen for anything else.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“COME ON! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Joyce was blasting her youngest favorite song, hoping to get some communication again. She practically begged whatever higher force there was to get her to talk to her son again.

“COME ON! WILL, STEPHANIE! I NEED ONE OF YOU–”

Then the banging came.

She immediately stops the music, listening. She slowly walks over to the wall where she saw the faceless thing last night, and puts her ear to it.

|| Mom? ||

She gasps, hands pressing against the wall like she could grab him. “Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| M-Mom? ||

The boys took a step back in shock.

They heard him. 

They actually heard him. 

“No freaking way!” Lucas said, and everyone began shouting his name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Mom... || 

“Will!” Joyce yells, her heart hurting at the sound of her baby boy crying. 

|| Please… ||

“Will! Will!” She starts banging on the wall, and clawing at the wall paper.

|| Mom!!!! ||

“Will! I’m here! I’m here!” She manages to snag the corner of the paper and begins peeling it off. “Oh, God…”

|| Mom!!!! ||

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Will!” Mike shouts.

“Will, it’s us! Are you there?” Lucas says, getting closer to the radio.

“Can you hear us? We’re here!” Dustin asks, getting close too. They can hear him, even if it’s a bit distorted, so why can’t he hear them? “Will? Hello?! Will!”

|| H-Hel-lo? M-Mom? ||

“Why can’t he hear us?” Lucas asked, worriedly. 

“I don’t know!” Mike yells, scared. “Will!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Baby…” Joyce cries as the wallpaper came down, and revealed a weird color bubble on her wall. She wasn’t even going to question it when she finally saw movement behind it. 

|| Mom?! || 

“Oh, God. Will!” She could cry. “Oh, thank God. Baby… Will…”

|| Mom… || 

She could hear something growling from the other side, and could barely make out her son’s scared face. 

|| Mom, it’s coming! ||

“Tell me where you are!” Joyce said, banging on the bubble. “How do I get to you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys stared, completely afraid for their friend because he sounded like he was going to break at any moment. And that weird growling wasn’t helping the situation either. Where the heck was he?

|| I-It’s like ho-home, but it’s s-so dark… It’s so da-rk and empty. An–d-d it’s cold! A-And Step-hanie’s passed out! ||

Mike gasps and looks at Dustin. “She is with him.”

“Jesus…” The Henderson said, covering his mouth with his hand.

|| I do-n’t kn-know what t-to do! Mo-m? M-m-mom! || 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Listen to me!” Joyce said, with all the might of her voice. “I swear I’m gonna get to you, okay? But right now, I need you to hide. I need you to get Stephanie and hide!”

|| Mom, please! ||

“No, no, listen! Listen, I…” Her heart skips a beat when the growling gets louder. “I will find you both, but you have to run now! Run! Run!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Then the radio bursts up into flames, immediately setting off the fire alarms. Dustin kicked himself in high gear, running over to the extinguisher and pulling the pin. 

“El, are you okay?” Mike asked, after the fire was put out. But the young girl stared at him, and you can clearly tell she wasn’t here. “Can you move?”

“Shit! Blood, Mike!” Lucas points out, as the red liquid gushes out of her nose immensely. 

“Jeez! Help her up!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“And you’re…” Nancy questions as he watches him fiddle around with the machine in the room engulfed in red light.

“Brightening. Enlarging.” He explains.

“Did your mom say anything else? Like, um, where it might have gone to, or…”

“No, just that it came out of the wall.” Jonathan sighs as he finishes with the machine before carefully placing the photo into the water.

“How long does this take?”

“Not long.”

She nods, fiddling with her hand. “Have you been… doing this a while?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Photography?” She clarifies, and he shrugs.

“Yeah.” He gives her a nervous look. “I guess I’d rather observe people than, you know… Talk to them. I know. It’s weird.”

“No!” She shakes her head.

“No, it is.” He chuckles, and grins. “It’s just, sometimes… people don’t really say what they’re really thinking. But you capture the right moment… it says more.”

“What was I saying?” Nancy asked, a smile creeping up in her face.

“What?”

“When you took my picture.”

He frowns. “I shouldn’t have taken that.” He looks away. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry. It’s just–”

“That’s it.” She said, getting his attention. “That’s what I saw.”

Jonathan gasps quietly at the sight of it, a disgusting, tall figure that didn’t have a face. “My mom… I thought she was crazy ’cause she said… that’s not Will’s body. That he’s alive.”

“And if he’s alive–”

“Then Barbara.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve couldn’t believe he even had this thought, but he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of the Coroner’s office. He sat there with the engine off, rethinking everything.

“Oh my god…” His forehead touched the steering wheel. “What am I doing?” But he gets out anyway, heading inside and turning on his charm to hide his nerves. “Hello, Ma’am!”

Patty pulls the phone away from her ear. “Hey, uh, can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, my brother, I think he left something behind. I‘m sure it’s still on the seat. If you don’t mind me looking, that is.”

“Oh, well…”

“Please?” He begs, and shows her the doe eyes. Well, they worked because she told him he can go ahead. “Thank you. I’ll just be a minute.”

And now it was now or never.

Steve strolls through the hallway, spotting, to his surprise, a cop sitting on a chair by the door he needed to get in (Guess he’ll question this situation later). “Hey, I love that book.” He says, the cop springing to his feet “It’s a nasty mutt.”

“Hey, you can’t be back here.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just got off the line with uh… you know.”

“Know what?”

“You…” Smacks lips. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

And that’s when Steve decks him the side of the head, before sending another punch to the jaw that renders him unconscious. He still can’t believe what he’s doing, even after snatching the keys from the guy’s belt. He looks around worriedly as he unlocks the door to head inside. His nerves were being shot through the roof as he arrived at the freezers, and with a shaky hand he started opening the doors up, reading the name tags that were tied on the deceased’s toes.

When he found Stephanie’s he nearly vomited. And when he finally pulled back the sheet he nearly fainted.

Ever since their friendship ended the only time he’s only ever seen her was when they would pass by each other in school, and that wasn’t very often. But this…

This is different. This is sick. This is violating. 

It hurt to see how pale she was, those bright blue eyes of her closed, her brown locks brushed back from her face.

He swallows and looks away. What the fuck am I doing?

He takes a deep breath, and pulls the sheet back more, stopping before it shows off her chest. He still had the courtesy to not see her naked, not like this anyhow. It wouldn’t be right. But when he finally took the rest of her in, his heart got stuck in his throat.

The scar… on her shoulder was…

Non-existent.

That doesn’t… what? Steve knows this isn’t right. He remembers the incident so clearly, he remembers the scar they both promise to hide from their families. So if he had his still, then where was hers? Is this what was spooking the police chief? 

Now it made sense why Hopper was asking those questions to him. He must have seen Stephanie’s body without the scar and wanted to ask how long ago it was. 

Now it all made sense. 

Steve, without even realizing, had reached down to touch the spot where the scar should be. His brown orbs widened at the touch. For being a deceased body it was–

Completely dry.

Now, he might not be the most book smart person despite keeping his grades up for his parents sake, but even he remembers his science teacher explaining the stages of a dead body. Something about the body puffing up and releasing fluids. So why is it dry? And secondly, if Steph’s mother showed up for the autopsy, then where’s the incision marks?

.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

.

Steve shuts his eyes again, another shaky breath as he takes out his knife from his back pocket, flicking it open. He has to know, he has to know if his doubts are real. He starts by putting the tip on her shoulder, before stopping.

But what if he’s wrong? What if this is really her? 

He groaned, every kind of emotion was coming through. What if I’m wrong and I just butchered my first friend? 

He sighs. Well…

He’s not going to know until he tries.

“Fuck.” He whispers, before digging the tip into her shoulder. Cringing at the sound of the skin breaking. He continues until he gets to the end of the collarbone, and puts the knife aside. 

It was the moment of truth as he slowly digs his hand into the cut, half expecting for his hand to touch bone or get drenched in a vein but…

Steve might as well be as pale as this corpse as soon as touched something that shouldn’t be in there. Scaredly, he pulled the substance out. 

It was cotton. Stuffing that was used in pillows or children’s toys.

He didn’t know whether to be happy he was right, or upset that he was. He still almost couldn’t believe it. 

“What the fuck?” He manages to say before he hears the door behind him open wider. Out of instinct, he grabs his knife and spins around, expecting the receptionist or even that cop he knocked out to be there, but not him.

Jim Hopper was staring back at him, out of uniform and looking surprised to see him here too (That’s probably why his gun was out). Both of them didn’t say anything, and the adult’s eyes shifted to the table behind him. Jim hustles over, Steve sidestepping quickly – I mean he’s caught red handed anyway. 

And that’s when Jim saw what Steve saw.

That’s when they both realized…

.

.

.

.

Something’s going on.

-Taglist is Open-

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[animeyanderelover]

What would inuyasha be like as a yandere?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, abduction, death

Yandere Inuyasha Hc’s

🔴My god, the denial is strong with Inuyasha when it comes to his strong feelings he keeps in his heart for his darling. You can't fully blame him though. Shunned by humans and demons alike for his heritage and troubled past, he has about zero social interaction skills and is very wary. Inuyasha doesn't want to trust you for he fears that you'll push him away for his blood just like so many before you did. Why would he need you after all? He tries to play it down and intentionally acts mean to you. Does it work though? No. Instead his heart trembles after he's spit rude words at you and watches you walk away. Do you hate him? Will you leave him? Such intrusive thoughts trouble the half-demon through days and night yet he's also too proud to appear before you and apologize. It results in the possibly worst attempts to stalk you which always embarrass him as he just has to always say something in a loud and aggressive voice when he witnesses you spending time with someone else. He's so jealous!

🔴I'd say his strongest traits would be his very protective instincts, his very childish possessive streak and his jealousy. Inuyasha will always be around, whether in terrible disguises in order to stalk you or by really just trailing visibly behind you, yelling at you that he's free to go wherever he wants to go. He's not following you, you idiot! He's just walking into the same direction! He's acting like a brat most of the time but the moment he does sense something bad, he will fight with his teeth and claws to protect you. He's already lost enough in his life and protecting you becomes eventually a basic instinct. Whilst I see Sesshomaru being possessive in the sense of being downright territorial, Inuyasha shows a more 'harmless' way of being possessive. That is not to say that he can't act more scarily possessive in certain situations but most of the time he's just acting immature with his temper tantrums when you ignore him or don't want to see him in favor of meeting with someone else. Oh, he'll absolutely crash every activities of yours so he can be included.

🔴Inuyasha's jealousy is probably the part that will give you permanently headaches. Because he'd probably get into a brawl with everyone who does as much as looking at you for too long. Just imagine a dog who barks at anyone loudly until they're out of sight and you know what it's like being accompanied by Inuyasha. His childish demands to have you for himself really come through during such moments and if you think that he's been rude to you in the past, just wait until you hear him cussing and disrespecting at whoever irked him. The type to get into a physical fight if someone talks back, although he'd rarely really hurt someone. It's only to scare them away a bit. Literally will drag you away or even carry you away when his not existing patience is at an end. You always feel sharp nails dugging into the skin of your waist or hips before you're either dragged away or lifted up into his arms and he makes a run for it, still yelling at the person that this isn't settled yet.

🔴Inuyasha seems to value life a lot, surprising considering that most demons don't think too much about it. He is certainly someone prone to get into physical fights but most of the time those are evoked by his raging jealousy. That said he throws away all common sense if someone should ever dare to hurt you in which case he goes rather violent which can cause some serious damage to the culprit if he lets his feelings get the better of him. If someone seriously tries to kill you though? He completely loses it and maximum destruction will be achieved if he doesn't have his Tessaigan with him since his sheer wrath alone triggers his demonic blood to take over him. The aftermath is always terrible as he's destroyed in his sheer and suffocating anger the landscape around him and has torn the enemy to shreds, blood covering his hands and coating his mouth. You don't get away unscarred either as you end up getting injured in some way but Inuyasha, even in his full-fledged demon form that only wants to destroy, still makes sure that you're alive. Even in such a savage state, keeping you alive remains his core instinct.

🔴A part of me thinks that he wouldn't be fully willing to kidnap his darling since he probably has some common sense, especially if his darling has the happy family and life he never could have. Thinking about ripping that away from you has him recoiling a bit in disgust as this is a level he doesn't want to sink to. What happens far more often is that Inuyasha sometimes just whisks you away for his own purposes, specifically if he's feeling neglected or has noticed that you've spent very much time with someone else recently. He carries you somewhere away where you won't know the way back home and have to forcefully rely on him and I just know that he'll rub it into your face how you need to have him as your protector now. Considering that Inuyasha has never been someone who could hold back his emotions which oftentimes lead his actions. So it is likely that within the heat of a moment, he might grab you out of overwhelming anger and frustration and bring you somewhere far away from your original home. After he has calmed down a bit, he can't ignore the twinge of guilt but he's too proud to admit it.

🔴He's probably really acting like a dog at times, although he barely notices. Don't you even dare approach him reeking like someone else because it is disgusting. If he could have it his way, he'd burn the clothes right away. Scenting is a thing and whilst he doesn't calculate that humans don't have such enhanced senses as he has, it still satisfies a primal part of him. Your scent is also the one thing he will always detect even amongst a million other aromas. He loves it if you scratch him behind his ears, if you find the right spot his leg is actually stomping. He's instantly embarrassed about it as soon as he snaps out of it though. It's safe to assume that Inuyasha is constantly in a bad mood when other people are around since he sees everyone and everything as a threat that might steal your attention. Those feelings are harmless for the most part though. He usually avoids you during every new moon as he's too ashamed to be seen in his physically weakest state and it is likely that he doesn't even tell you and you have to find out by yourself.

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 1)

Lee Know x fem!reader warnings: fluff but heavy angst and themes of abusive relationships wc: 8k>. AO3 link :) synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

important a/n: This work deals a lot with topics of toxic/abusive relationship. There is no physical violence, but it does show cases of emotional manipulation and the potential impacts it can have over someone. The reader is in a toxic romantic relationship (I'm sorry to all Jun's out there), and the story is basically about how it affect not only the reader herself, but also the people around her who she held dear to her heart. It does contain a lot of self-doubt, anxiety, depressive thoughts and having your world reshaped by someone else, taking down important pillars to someone's life, finally facing what it means to have been deceived and accepting it (eventually). Having said all that, if you think this is a sensitive topic to you, please proceed with caution (if you choose to do so). I suck at tagging, but I hope this note made things a little clearer. In the end, it's supposed to be a way of comforting and healing - which will come, eventually -, especially with the help of someone else. I'm not sure how long this will be, but there's still a long way to go. Also, I use "Lee Know" and "Lee Minho" interchangeably, depends on the feeling. A final note is that this chapter has a lot of flashbacks of the past, so the timelines might be confusing to some, but hopefully it is clear enough and I can convey the message and feeling I aimed for. Lots of love, everybody!

You just finished ordering when your phone rings. Your stomach drops and you catch yourself being scared that it might be your partner, Jun. It hasn’t been an hour since the fight you two had over the phone, and if you were being completely honest, you can’t even recall the exact reason for the argument. What you do recall, though, is the aggressive silence, followed by yelling, aggressive silence again, a very passive-aggressive monologue about how you simply can’t understand. Why are you making things so difficult?, a quiet rage when you tried to speak, finally ending with Jun hanging up on you. In that order, specifically.

You force yourself to analyze the conversation. You remember calmly asking him where he had been the past few days. The overreaction you got threw you off. After days of complete silence from his end, could anyone actually blame you for genuinely being intrigued? Did that mean you were you a control freak? That you did you not trust him? That had never crossed your mind, for God’s sake! You only wanted to know! It was insane what he accused you of, for simply wondering whether he was busy or something similar. Suddenly trying to justify your question as coming from a place of sadness, not control, felt like a weakness. It didn't matter nonetheless, since he had hung up so abruptly. A mix of shame and guilt engulfed you, with a hint of anger that you very consciously denied.

Before you knew it, you were outside walking without direction, just desperate to unwind your mind. You hoped the fresh spring breeze healing powers would be enough. So, you walked and walked and walked, crossing streets and taking turns mindlessly. Or so you thought. You cursed your feet when you, at last, realized where they had dragged you, spotting the JYP-Entertainment building at one corner. A few buildings away, you remind yourself, your favorite coffee shop still stood. You actively deceived yourself, claiming that that is the place your feet had been leading you all along and resuming a much more determined march. It was the craving for coffee that had brought you here, you told yourself, and not the fear of running into any of the boys.

“Ma’am?” The cashier, a boy that probably is still in school, brings you back from your daze. He has a painfully obvious worried look on his face. Do I look on the outside as shitty as I feel in the inside? The phone stops ringing and you blink, hoping your mask is good enough to pull off a relaxed demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You reach into your bag and aim for your wallet, doing your best to ignore the pity on that young boy’s eyes. Shame swirls inside your chest and you’re scared you might start crying in front of this poor kid.

You hand him the money and allow your eyes to wander around for a moment. The mechanical sounds the cash register makes are relaxing, and you take in the place you so dearly liked. You aren’t alone in the shop — in fact, it is quite busy for a Thursday afternoon. It is better this way, you think. The sensation of merging with the crowd and disappearing is welcoming. The boy hands over your change, and your phone starts ringing again.

The color of your face must have disappeared, by the look of the cashier’s face. “Can I do anything to-“

“Keep the change.” You smile once more, cutting him off. You turn around before he can finish his sentence and head to the farthest table you can spot. On your way, you wonder whether you look as pathetic on the outside as you feel on the inside. Without realizing it, you made a decision. The decision of avoiding Jun as if it could make anything better — as if it could even change anything by any means. You hated yourself for being scared, afraid of something you can’t exactly name. It couldn't be Jun. Why would it be? Apart from the occasional raised voice, he has never done anything to you. It's just a phone call, you tell yourself. If it goes downhill you can simply hang up, just like he did to you before. As simple as that. By the time you reach your seat, you're determined. This is foolish, you swear under your breath. Still, you hesitate to take the ringing phone out of your pocket — but end up doing it anyway.

The word Chris glowing on the screen feels like a cozy blanket being wrapped around your cold body. You must have audibly exhaled, perhaps muttered some thanks — whether to a higher being or to Chan himself, you're not sure — because you notice a few people turning their heads toward you . It’s okay, everybody! Everything is fine now!, you want to say. You clear your throat before answering it.

“Hey there.” Hopefully you don't sound so gloomy. You put in a double effort to sound as cheery as possible. Perhaps, if Chan believes you’re okay, you might as well just be.

“What’s wrong?” Straight to the point, you wince by the dry, clearly worried tone. Tough start.

You know Chan and the way he worries extensively about everything and everyone — not enough about himself, some would argue, but you'd slightly disagree. It’s simply part of his nature, you’ve learned. As much as you admired deeply his instinct to help, you did not want to be the object of such attention at that moment. He is a great friend – fuck, he is the best friend. In normal instances, you wouldn't hesitate before sharing your mind and soul with him. Right now, however, worrying him also meant being faced with too many questions, none of which you wanted to answer — perhaps not even knew the answer to. Not only that, you were also vaguely aware about the upcoming Stray Kids comeback in less than two months. Having witnessed the boys go through times like this firsthand before, the last thing you wanted was to add your name to the list of “Things That Keep Bang Chan Up At Night”. In reality, you knew he couldn't do anything about your situation regardless. Therefore, you conclude, worrying him would simply be counterproductive.

“Ouch. Not even a hello?” You play it off, fidgeting with your bag’s strap. You know you can't fool Chan. You shake your head to ward off the thoughts.

“Hello. What is wrong, Y/N?” He insists and you shift nervously in your chair. Your eyes travel to the cashier, who is talking to the barista, a boy as young as him, keeping them both in your line of sight. “Why didn’t you pick up the first time?” Chan questions.

“Is it that weird for me to not pick up immediately?” You joke quietly. You know Chan is not buying your act. “Actually. I think I should be the one asking you. Why do you sound so urgent? What is going on?” You deflect, but Chan doesn’t take the bait. He takes a deep breath, audibly through the speaker, and you feel bad for making things difficult for him — you really do. But you know it’s the best option. You will sort all the awkwardness in the future, hoping it won't be too late for it to have settled and stained your friendship irreversibly. You want to fill the silence, but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.

Is it really the best option? What would be worse — telling Chan and burdening him with your own confusing problems, at least having him know what’s wrong, or avoiding talking about it? Certainly, he will sense that something is wrong, but at least he won’t feel bad for not helping if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

But where to start?

Chris exhales audibly once more. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” He wants to insist, you can tell, but you’re thankful he’s holding back. “I just miss you.” He says it so softly the phone barely captures it. It hits you like a truck, and tears are rolling down your cheeks before you acknowledge them. The lump in your throat grows, and you're afraid your voice will betray you if you try to speak. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. When was the last time you came to the company?”

And it has been weeks - months, actually. You’re sure you can hear your own heart shattering like glass inside your chest. You can touch the sharp edges of the cracks and spot bruises that were supposed to have healed long ago but linger still. You miss him too. Not only Chan, but you you’re your routine with him and 3RACHA. You miss Changbin’s loud teasings and Han’s snuggles. You miss spending the hours on end holed up in a practice room with the eight of them, watching as they dance and sing and spin and fight and laugh, as if their own life depended on it. You were just a lucky spectator who has been very much avoiding the fact that you've been neglecting your most precious fortune. When did you become this mess of a person?

You’re bothering them. The male voice resonates in your mind and you close fiercely your eyes. You are not one of them, Y/N. You’re just being a nuisance all the time. Why can't you see it?

You try to stop it, but it's in vain. The memory memory comes back regardless.

“I never said I was one of them. That’s silly.” You replied as you entered the company’s elevator, followed by Jun. With your hands occupied holding plastic bags filled with snacks handpicked for each of the boys, you press the button with your elbow. “I just don’t think they see a problem with me coming over from time to time. It's not like I'm showing up every day." You glimpsed at your watch. You were early and Chris wouldn't be waiting for you. Perfect, you could surprise them. "You know, Channie was the one-“ He scoffed and you felt a puncture of guilt. “Chris.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to get into a fight because of this again. “Chris was the one who texted me asking if I was planning to come or not.” You tried to conceal the pride warming your chest with that statement.

“Maybe it’s because they just want to go home, but they can’t because there’s always the chance of you showing up out of nowhere. Have you ever thought about that?" His tone was harsh and took you by surprise. Actually… No. You have not thought about that, in fact. He inhaled deeply, massaging his temples in a sign of stress. “Of course not."

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You mumbled, fighting against the flush of shame on your cheeks. What if he's right? What if you've been bothering and annoying some of the most important people in your life this whole time, and they've just been putting up with you? Your heart sank at the thought.

“Babe.” Jun appeared in your line of sight and placed his hands on both your shoulders. "You know I'm only saying this because I love you, right? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of those people, that’s all." You tried to avoid his gaze, but he gently turned your chin and held it. "Okay?”

His voice was soft, but clear. Too loud for your ears, perhaps. The soft tone did not make it easier to absorb the painful words. It took you a moment to register that the elevator's bell had run the doors had already opened. Your partner stepped back, taking some of the bags from your hands and turning to exit. Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed the cynical smile on his face as he turned toward the figure standing at the entrance. You only registered the other party after Jun's venomous tone. “If you excuse us.”

The shadow, meanwhile, did not excuse him. He didn't move not even an inch to the side, and you caught Jun trying to pass by them smoothly - but failing. The figure didn't show to care when he bumped into him, murmuring curses under his breath that were very much audible. You turned your head and found, as already expected, Lee Know standing there. Nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you met his piercing dark gaze, already fixed on you - and you only. He paid as much attention to Jun as he'd do to a fleck of dust.

Although it had been about two months since you started dating Jun, all the boys had already met him. You held a habit of visiting them regularly at the company after being close to Chan for so long. Dating Jun hadn't stopped you from doing that, in fact, for some reason, he'd insist to come along. You tried questioning him if that came from a place of jealousy, but gave up after a few attempts. Mentioning Stray Kids was usually the motive for big arguments, which never led anywhere. Coming to the company to hang out obviously gave Jun as much amusement as he’d get from attending a seminar on top 10 best lore of teenager’s movies, and it was up to him how he spent his time. You actively did your best to dismiss his mean comments about the most insane things, be it the lightening of the place or the paint color they chose to paint this one specific wall or the supposed secretary’s rudeness. Every aspect of the building had something wrong with it that deserved a specific remark about it. Jun had learned not to make any unpleasant comments about - or even to - the boys. That was the only instance you would not let slide. In return, you learned to let him rant about how god damn cold or hot or crowded or empty the building was.

You never told Chan - or anyone, for that matter - about it. Practically any of the members, even Chris himself, had ever explicitly stated whether they liked or disliked Jun, and you never asked them directly. They maintained an awkwardly polite demeanor in Jun’s presence. At least they tried to keep it civilized, even when Jun was being difficult. Well, practically because there was one exception.

Lee Minho clearly disliked your boyfriend, and the feeling was mutual from day one. The first day Jun came along and you introduced him to your friends, they were all respectful and dealt fairly well with Jun’s special ironic remarks. Minho, on the other hand, had withdrawn into a state of heavy silence and deadly stares that alternated between you and Jun. You tried to ignore it, initially, not giving it too much thought. That was until Minho questioned, in a very audible and shameless, almost whiny voice, 'Ah, Hyung! When is this thing leaving? It’s so annoying.'

Before you could decide whether you’d argue with Minho or Jun, your short-tempered partner was already looking, outraged, for the source of the voice. You grabbed his arms and tried to drag him toward the door, saying goodbye to the boys with a hasty 'Yes, I’ll see you soon! Take care!' And, 'Let’s go, Jun, we have to—'

But as you left the room, both you and Jun saw that Minho had stood up and was leaning proudly against the wall. His deadly stare had followed you to the exit and you caught when the shadows on his face gave place to a malicious smile forming on his lips. He was looking at Jun, as he gave a tiny wave, somehow a sign of imminent violence. Just before you closed the door, you couldn't stop the shiver running down your spine when you noticed he was staring at you. You couldn't read what they said, but your stomach churned nonetheless.

Minho was the primary target of your boyfriend’s distaste ever since, and a common fight motive. Jun had always been the type to overthink, but it was ridiculously worse when it came to Lee Know - which was tragically hilarious. From all the eight, he had chosen Lee Minho to pick on? You'd try to argue, but his reply would always come to You can’t be this blind. It was maddening, always as if you were both arguing about two completely different things.

Thus, you weren't surprised to find Lee Know in front of you - that particular mocking tone coming from Jun in If you excuse us, would only be used with Minho. What did surprise you, however, was Minho himself. Standing as still as a statue in front of you, the man emanated annoyance and deep displeasure. His dark eyes exuded an anger you were certain you could touch. It made the air surrounding you heavier and colder. The chill reflected in your stomach as your face grew hotter. You couldn't look away, as if you were under a spell - and perhaps you were. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, to run, or to hide. Maybe all three options. The knowledge you were the reason behind this anger was as clear as running fresh water, and it gave you goosebumps. Somehow, it wasn’t a question. You didn’t know what you could’ve done to trigger such fierce feelings from Lee Know. Although his feelings were as transparent as clean glass, you were unable to read his thoughts. Honestly, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

How long it passed, you couldn’t tell. How long you stood there, pitiful and unable to move or look away, a mess of flushed face and glassy eyes, remains unclear to you to this day. What was very clear even at that time, however, was the shadow of disappointment you spot on the vastness of his deep dark eyes the moment before he turned around. He walked to the opposite direction of the hallway without saying a word. The abrupt withdraw left bad taste in your mouth. The spell was broken and you could breathe again, but the air was too icy in your lungs, making you wonder whether it'd be better to go back underwater - to be back under his gaze. That shadow of disappointment in his eyes persisted like an annoying fly you couldn’t shoo away, accompanied by a heavy weight in your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” The angry whisper suddenly reminded you that you weren’t alone. You might as well have been, though. The world could have ended and the universe collapsed at that very moment, and yet, staring into Lee Know’s eyes, you knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Under his gaze, you wouldn’t have noticed anyone but you and him. Your eyes followed the dark spot going down the corridor, until the moment he finally took a turn and disappeared completely. You collapsed against the elevator’s wall, finally breathing in as deep as you could until your lungs ache. Hold for one. Two. Three. Four. Exhale.

“Hello? What the fuck Y/N?” For a moment you considered yelling at Jun. You felt your nerves on the surface of your skin, and your heartbeat was distractingly loud in your head.

“I don’t know.” You breathed out, realizing that, in fact, you didn't have energy to fight. Your legs were unsteady and you realized your hands were shaking. The fog in your mind dissipated a little, and the pleas in your mind for Minho to come back died out. You tighten the grip on the left bags on your hands and push yourself forward. In automatic mode, you got out the elevator and headed to the first and closest safe place your mind could think of: 3RACHA’s Studio.

Perhaps you should have realized that you were heading in the same direction you had just seen him go, only a few minutes before. That you would, unavoidably, end up facing Lee Know again - although 3RACHA’s Studio wasn’t the only active room on that floor, that was the most obvious conclusion to arrive at. Maybe you knew it, unconsciously. Today, you wonder if you didn’t turn back that day simply because following Minho was like an instinct. You were confused, sad and scared, but still, going to Minho felt as natural as searching for a shelter during a storm. In this case, Minho was both the storm and the shelter. You should’ve turned your back and gone home, but you didn’t. Your mind was a hurricane of confusing feelings and images that, in the end, returned to the same name being chanted again and again. Lee Know Lee Know Lee Know.

Jun kept saying things you didn’t register. His voice was just a bit more than an agitated whisper, and you wished he would just shut up. Or even better, stayed at home. The doubts and fears resurfaced and you couldn’t shake them away. What if he was right? What if what had just happened was a statement of how much you annoyed and bothered this people?

Did they hate you that much?

As this last thought crossed your mind, a loud thud echoed, followed by a harsh voice. You froze, realizing it was emanating from 3RACHA’s Studio, and the door was half-open.

“Why is it still going on? It’s ridiculous!” It was… Minho? Could it be? You had never seen him raise his voice in anger - at least not seriously. It was unmistakably Minho, but the so intense anger was foreign to you. You couldn’t place it to the so coldhearted and detached person that Minho had always shown.

“YA! Don’t go around slamming things!” Changbin’s scolding came even louder, followed by mumbles you thought was Han's, but they were too muffled by the distance and walls to be sure.

They were fighting. They were very seriously fighting, and the realization sank in.

You should run. Run run run. Something was so clearly and deeply wrong. You should not be here. Now. Run.

Your members didn't follow your mind’s orders, and you caught yourself frozen in place.

You couldn’t move.

Your eyes snapped to your left, where Jun started moving. The sparkle of hope was extinguished when you realized he was moving forward, and not back to the elevator. He took one step closer to the door, and then another. Slowly, but surely trying to get a better listen. This isn't right.

“What do you want us to do, Minho?” Chan’s voice was also alien. The hasty, firm and contained anger just didn’t fit his patient personality. “Should we yell at her? That’s your solution?”

Her. Obviously this was about you. The word solution haunts you to this day, but even back then, the harm was starting to settle in. The need of a solution arises from the existence of a problem. You. In the end, you were the problem they were looking for a solution for.

“I can’t do this.” It was Lee Know again. Although his voice was much lower, it was as clear as it would’ve been if you were in that room with them. Pain and exhaustion overflowed from his words, and you felt their weight on your own face, in the form of tears that welled up and streamed down nonstop. His agony was overwhelming, and you felt as if your own heart was a broken dam. “I can’t, Hyung.” It was getting harder to understand his words - not only for the walls muffling them, but also for your own heartbeat was deafening. For a moment, you considered whether they could hear it too.

You sized your options. First, you could casually knock on the door and hand them the bags – somehow still in your hands –, then find an excuse to leave right after. Oh, sorry! I’m super busy, just wanted to give you guys these. No, it’s fine! Enjoy! It could work. Except the atmosphere inside was beyond intimidating. You would never be able to put on such an act that convinced them you weren't listening. The second option was simply leaving the bags in front of the door and leaving instantly. You shook your head, discarding the idea as soon as it happened. Leaving without saying a word would be a clear statement that you heard them, then felt bad and left. While it was precisely what had happened, you did not want them to know that. No, you couldn’t bear having Chan forcibly explaining to you in which ways you were a problem to the boys. The fact that he felt this way - or at least knew the others did - and had not talked to you prior stung at the back of your brain. Lastly, you could just leave. Dragging Jun and all the bags, you would leave no traces behind and, hopefully, Minho would think you didn’t even leave the elevator. Maybe he would think you had seen him and finally realized you were not welcome, then you had made the smartest choice – the one you should definitely have taken – and had gone straight home. He would ignore it and not mention it and-

Shouts suddenly pulled out from of your daze.

“GONE! OUT OF HERE! OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!” Someone vociferated, followed by the sounds of a chair being dragged and steps. You grabbed Jun's hand and started pulling him after you before you even register doing the action. Desperately going back to the direction you both came from, you prayed to find an unlocked door before anyone heard your footsteps and plastic sounds. Not sure how, your pleas were quickly answered. In a moment of despair, trying to open an unknown door, you pushed both you and Jun inside the empty dark room. Shortly afyer you shut the door and locked it, hoping the thud noise went unnoticed. 

 “Are you crazy?” As soon as he started, you dropped all the plastic bags and covered his mouth with both hands. You closed your eyes – to avoid the tears that threatened to spill or to hear if anyone had left the studio and came after you, you didn’t know. Regardless, you couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat and a high buzz in your ears.

“Y/N?” You blink, coming back to the present. You open your eyes, and the barista is in front of your table holding your coffee. You notice his uncomfortable gaze and blush in embarrassment, murmuring thanks and apologies as he hands you the cup and leaves. He must’ve called you and you didn’t hear, giving him extra trouble to leave his spot and hand it to you personally.

It can also be due the tears flowing uninterruptedly on your face. Who knows.

You look at the black screen on your hand, laying on your lap now. You unlock your phone and blink to try to clean your vision from the tears, regardless, there is no new notifications. You can't recall the conversation with Chan exactly - if it could even be called a conversation. You don't know whether it was you or Chan who hung up, or even if you got to say goodbye. Had he noticed you crying?

You stare at the ceiling, doing your best to stop the tears. That was the last time you went to the company, and that was months ago. You miss Chan. You miss Changbin and Han. You miss spending the afternoon simply watching them working on music. You miss how they were loud and lively and intense. You miss how you felt when you were with them, and knowing that the feeling was only one sided broke your heart in ways you have no idea how to heal. You can’t shake the feeling of losing them - it seemed inevitable, and you wanted to scream.

You don't know why you act the way you do - running away since then. Evidently, it wouldn't magically make things right again. It wouldn't wipe out your memories of that day, or care less, for that matter. Some of the dearest people in your life thought of you as a problem to be solved, and it simply hurt. Minho’s anger and disdain were far too ingrained in your brain. You’ve been ignoring the acute pain that always followed remembering his exasperation and fury. Gone, he had shouted at the top of his lungs. He wanted you gone and couldn’t fathom why no one had talked to you yet. Honestly, it's hard for you to not question the same. 

Something very solid and real had broken inside you that day. Your attempt to pretend nothing happened was reinforced by the fact that, that day, Minho had, indeed, did what you hoped he would do. You texted Chan a little after, apologizing for not showing up, and he didn't say anything about you being there. Minho hadn’t told them about meeting you, and you felt relieved – maybe you could work things out by yourself, without having to make things even harder for them. You still didn't know how - but you planned on finding out.

The weeks that followed that incident were a messy blur. Thankfully, Jun didn’t mind your absentmindedness. It didn't bother him – interacting was an action that had to come from your end, and, since your mind was preoccupied with something else, he wouldn’t even try pulling you out from your thoughts. You couldn’t focus on anything else for too long, your thoughts would always, somehow, end on Minho’s resentment. On Minho's angry pleas to the winds for you to go away. On Minho's eyes. On Minho. Minho. It drove you mad. You felt bad and didn't want to admit you resented Chan a little. As you learned, asking Jun for advice proved to be completely unhelpful – in fact, it made things worse most of times. The situation was as clear as crystal to him: the boys were busy people, while you were someone desperately clinging to their attention, and, in the end, it saturated them. They were also not assholes - except that guy, he'd add - and that’s why they had been trying to give you hints. Then, you could arrive at the conclusion yourself, and there wouldn't be a need to go through the confrontational phase. Unfortunately, you hadn’t done your part and didn’t read between the lines, that's why you stood where you did. Why are you so upset about it? Fuck them! I never liked those guys anyway, and variations would usually put an end to the "conversation".

At work, however, you didn’t have the comfort of having your absentmindedness be dismissed. That was quickly noticeable not only by your clients and colleagues, but also by your manager. He was a patient man, but seemed to be in a permanent state of exhaustion and you guessed that's what capitalism did to a person. He never raised his voice and treated employees as human beings – an unprecedented event according to your own experience -, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the company as top priority. He tried to listen and help, but wouldn’t hesitate to fire someone if they messed up. The first time you were called to his office, he questioned, impassive, about the embarrassing decline in your productivity. He didn’t seem exactly worried - employees had ups and downs all the time. You tended to overwork yourself, and, although you weren't the employee of the month, you knew you did a good job overall - so did your superior. “It’s just proceeding, you know?”

The downs persisted, unfortunately, and two weeks later you were called again. This time, his approach was more assertive and concerned.

“You can’t stay like this, Y/N.” He turned the monitor on his desk to face you, showing the numbers you had missed the last 15 days. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You bowed deeply one more time, having no explanations or justifications for your bad performance. You couldn’t tell your manager you had your confidence undermined, that you were questioning every single act and interaction you had. You couldn’t tell your superior how deeply you missed your friends, missed love and hugs and affection and care. You missed yourself. You couldn’t tell him about the constant presence in your head that kept saying you were doing everything wrong. Everything. All your achievements, be they your job or your relationships - all of them were product of luck and you clearly weren’t good enough to keep them. Chan instantly came to mind. Even though he was texting you regularly, you couldn't get rid of the overwhelming sadness gripping your neck and kept your replies short. Obviously he had noticed, but respected your space - he stopped asking what was wrong after the first week. Knowing him, it was good that he didn’t know where you live, and that his own job kept him busy through day and night, or else you were certain he would’ve shown up at your door already. “It’s all my fault and I am deeply sorry I am bringing losses to the company and-"

“Y/N.” Your manager cut you, “When was the last time you slept?”

Confused, you blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That answers it. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” You raised your hands in surrender. “I promise, I don’t need to-“

“You can be a lot of things, Y/N. Sleep-deprived. Careless. Stressful. Anything but fine.” You flinched on the bluntness.

“Don’t you mean stressed?” You mumbled, embarrassed, trying to play off a joke.

“No, I said what I meant. Stressful. I cannot go on even for one more day if I look at my window one more time and see you staring blankly at your hands for God knows how long.” Before you could protest, he stopped you again. “I’m serious. I can’t afford the trouble of having an employee passing out because of lack of sleep. Take the rest of the day off and go to the hospital to get checked up. Come back tomorrow with the results in hand stating you are not dying or turning into a damn zombie.”

Left with no choice, you headed to the hospital. The feeling of guilt lingered in your chest a little, wondering if the insomniac nights were obvious in the dark bags under your eyes, if your anxiety was that evident in your eyes, words and walking.

You expected your health to be in check. You were certain modern medicine wasn’t capable of curing broken hearts yet – unfortunately. In worst case scenario, you’d probably walk out with a prescription to help you sleep and that’d be all. You took a deep breath before going in.

“Y/N?!”

Your body reacted before your mind and your eyes snapped in the direction of the source – Chris. He was already walking toward you, emerging from inside the huge building you had been staring at. You wondered if you were finally at the stage of hallucinations, and perhaps it was good it was happening next to a hospital - but this thought soon evaporated. Before you registered your own actions, you were also walking toward him, falling into the so missed and familiar hug your heart ached for.

It was the first time meeting Chan in almost a month. Usually, it wouldn’t have been a big thing, but it was for you. Your heart had been bleeding out for the past four weeks, and you hadn’t found a way to stop the pain. Chris was instant medicine, one that you had been actively depriving yourself of. You allowed yourself to be selfish for a moment. It was okay if you disturbed them and if you were an overall headache to them. In that moment, though, it was just you and Chris. You let yourself to believe that the love and appreciation you received from him were as real as they felt.

“Hi.” You murmured against his chest, inhaling his familiar perfume. His body vibrated with a chuckle, backing off just enough to look you in the eyes.

It was short, but you saw when the fun and joyful semblance turned into a concerned expression. You thought you sensed Chan becoming rigid, stiffening the hold on your shoulders just a little, as if you could run away if he let you. You remembered how you awfully sick and tired you might look. “How are yo-“

“I’m fine.” You cut off him, not being able to hold back a smile. “Do I look that terrible?”

He shifted, trying to cover up for his shameless stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Your smile widened; it was so easy to mess with him. “I’m just joking. I’m really fine, though.”

He glanced at you suspiciously. You could’ve well said you won the Olympics, and a quick look at you was enough to say that both of those things – being fine and winning the Olympics – were equally unlikely. And you didn’t account for the fact he had caught you standing in front of a hospital, just about to go in. Then it clicked, a hospital he just walked out of.

“Wait, what were you doing there? Are you okay?” It was your time to shamelessly look for wounds and signs that could hint if there was anything wrong with Chris. You noticed his clothes – shorts and a black long-sleeve shirt, it’s not something he’d normally wear outside, and rather stay inside working or even practicing.

He laughed shortly. “I am fine. Jeongin had an accident during practice and-“

“Jeongin had an accident?” Your voice was high pitched. Your eyes shifted to the entrance, past Chan, and you tensed, afraid you could see a badly hurt I.N.

“He is fine, Y/N.” He put his hand on the top of your head and turned it back to him. Looking into his eyes, you searched but found no traces of lying. Indeed, Chan looked quite chill, given the circumstances. “We feared he had a strained ligament or something, but he’s fine. I'll still hurt for the next few days, for sure. But he'll survive."

You breathed out in relief. “That’s great.” The story also explained his clothes.

Chan smiled at your concern. “Actually, they should be here at any minute now.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“They?” You looked at him puzzled, but as if waiting for its cue, a loud calling Hyung! drew his attention.

When he turned around, keeping one hand gently on your elbow, he stepped aside and gave you a clear vision of the hospital's entrance.

Your heart caught in your throat. It wasn’t the imagery of an injured Jeongin, who limped just a little toward you and Chan, using a crutch to support his body. Oblivious, you didn’t even notice the way he was happily surprised to see you after so long, his dimples showing even after he had just left the hospital.

No. In all honesty, you had barely registered Jeongin’s presence at all at first. Instead, your eyes met with the figure following him, just slightly behind. The simplicity of the large white shirt and gray sweatpants would have made anyone else look comfortable, casual at most – but Lee Know wasn’t just anyone else. He wasn’t just comfortable or casual. He was so goddamn attractive - he was hot, you dared. His dark hair was even longer than it was the month prior, falling a little on his eyes depending on the movement of his face, and you had the urge to place a lock behind his ear.

He stopped walking suddenly, his gaze locking with yours. In that moment you knew the word that best described Minho: breathtaking – quite literally.

It lasted for a moment. Chan called for I.N and Minho started walking in your direction. Your eyes instantly deviated from his, and you forced yourself to focus on the maknae, rather than the burning stare coming from Minho or the blood flow running in your ears.

“Y/N!” Jeongin smile was contagious.

“Hey there, baby bread! How are you feeling?” You wanted to hug him, but you were unsure about his injuries, so you chose to stick with the smiling. Lee Know caught up to you all and placed himself by Jeongin's side.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” You saw him blushing. “This thing helps," he jiggled the crutch, "but it makes it seem way worse than it actually is. Ice will do just fine.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Innie”. You smiled at him, and he smiled back. Keeping your hands in front of your body, highly conscious - conscious of your posture, choice of clothes, and greasy hair. You felt like a prey being watched by a predator – but choosing to avoid the predator’s eyes instead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Although Minho’s voice didn’t carry any resentment or accusation, you still winced. The sensation was like having a burnt hand and then someone grabbing it and placing it under a stream of cold water for relief. Yes, the relief would come right after, but first came the moment of shock and instinct to move away, before realizing how much you needed the cold water (his voice?) to relieve the pain of your burnt hand (your heart?).

“Come on, Lino. That’s not how you greet people.” Chan began, glancing at you apologetically. Unable to ignore him any longer, you let your eyes shift towards him.

His expression was a mystery, as hard as if it were sculpted in marble. Minho's face revealed no emotions, nor did his words. The bluntness could be mistaken by indifference, still his gaze was intense, making it hard to breathe and sending chills down your spine.

“Why would anything be wrong?” You questioned. Your voice somehow didn’t shake, and you hope you didn’t look as affected as you felt.

“Because I have eyes.” You felt your face growing hotter.  “And because you are in front of a hospital. What is wrong?” A sparkle of defiance lit in your chest – you owed him nothing. In fact, last time you checked, Lee Minho had made it very clear he did not want to see you.

“That’s not nice, Minho.” Chan scolded him, more fiercely this time.

“No, Chan.” You began, smiling warmly at Chris. He had so much on his shoulders already, you wouldn’t let Minho become another topic of trouble for him. “I’m fine, Minho. I’m here only to get checked up. Routine, that’s all.” You sustained his gaze with one of your own, hands held in fist so tight you’d later find red marks on your palms.

Minho raised a brow, almost mocking your poor explanation. The maknae spoke before him, “Are you sure you are well, Y/N?” The gentleness appeased your heart.

“You have to be joking.” Lee Know scoffed, apparently to himself but audibly to all of you. He was infuriating, daring to demand answers he had absolutely no right over! Why was he pressing on this? Why did it matter, anyway? Before you launched on him, Chan spoke.

“Okay! We’re done here.” He felt the weird energy between you two and wanted to prevent a war. “The driver is waiting for us, we need to go back. I.N, can you walk by yourself?”

“Yes, Hyung.” The maknae responded, particularly confused for the sudden shift but not daring to ask any questions.

Chan clapped “Okay, great. Minho, let’s-“

“I’m staying.” Minho said simply, placing himself by your side. Both you and Chan turned your heads to him abruptly.

“You are what?” You stepped away from him in disbelief. Your voice was a little higher than you wished. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes that you quite put your finger on. “No, you are not.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” He exasperated.

You tried to sense his motives, but it made so little sense that it was hard to put some logic into it. Did he get some twisted pleasure from upsetting you? It could be. But again, not a month had passed after the incident at the company. Back then, the sight of you had triggered as far as rage in him. But even now, he didn't look exactly the type of person that was getting any satisfaction from being in your presence.

Chan’s tone was serious. “Minho,” His eyes left yours and shifted to the oldest, changing his demeanor in a bit. His posture was rigid, but his gaze carried a determined defiance. “What is going on?”

Minho pointed at you without adverting his eyes from Chan. You gasped angrily, about to protest, but he didn’t give you the space. “She is going on, hyung. Look at her. If not for the obvious signs of being ill, then for the fact she’s missing work to come to the hospital.”

You argued. “I’m missing work because my boss told me to!"

“Which only proves my point.” He continued, letting his hand fall right by his side. “Something is so obviously wrong that it was up to her boss to step in, or else I doubt she’d come by herself.”

Ouch. “Listen." You interrupted. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you’re making it way bigger than it actually is. I am okay and I most definitely do not need your help.” You glanced at Chris, but his attention was still directed to Minho. You could see the gears working in his head, but you decided it was time to leave. “It was great seeing you guys. I mean it. But I really don't have time for this. If you excuse me.” You turned your back and tried to leave, but in vain. Not even two steps later did a hand wrap around one of your wrists. Minho’s hold was gentle, but firm, and you tried to hide de burning in your cheeks. “YA!”

He pulled you closer than you were before, and his voice was deeper when he spoke. “How long has it been since you last saw your boyfriend?” You were dizzy. The sudden shift in subject, accompanied by the warmth Minho's hand transmitted to your wrist and the disdain he had put into the word 'boyfriend,' clouded your thinking.

“Jun?” You blinked, trying to disperse the fog, but the scent of his perfume was inebriating. Minho was too close. “I saw him yesterday.”

“You saw him yesterday?” Minho’s voice had a hint of disbelief, and he searched for lies in your eyes. You saw him becoming tense, and you prepared to feel his grip tightening, but the hold on your wrist remained the same. “Are you sure?”

“What?! Of course I am sure! What kind of question is that?” Angrily, you pulled your wrist away from his grasp. He let you, keeping his stare a little longer. “What is wrong with you?!” You turned your eyes to Chris, begging a way out of this insanity. You caught I.N behind him, almost as uncomfortable with the scene as you were. Chan sustained Minho’s gaze for a moment, and your eyes darted between the two of them. No words were spoken, but obviously they weren't needed. The silent conversation through telepathy or whatever the sorcery clearly didn't include you.

After what seemed like forever, Chan sighed, defeated. “Okay. Y/N," he turned to you. "do you mind if he accompanies you?”

“What?! This is madness! Of course I mind. I’m not a child!” You begged.

“It’s not that, sweetheart.” He got closer and you let him when he pulled you to a hug. “We’re just worried about you. We all know you’re very much capable of taking care of yourself.” He added the last phrase when he felt you were about to protest. “We just want to make sure you are okay and can go home safely afterwards.”

“I can do this by myself.” You mumbled.

“I know, I know. But Lee Know can’t. He won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t make sure you’re safe and sound.” He kissed your forehead. “And my mind will also be at ease if I know you’re with him.”

After a moment, you sighed. “Fine.” You accepted reluctantly, stepping away as Chan positioned himself next to the waiting maknae.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re amazing. Lemme know how things go, yea?” Chan’s warm smile was impossible to be angry about. You nodded with your head and waved a tiny goodbye to I.N and watched them walk away.

Lee Know, didn't move an inch throughout the entire time.  When you turned to him, somehow, he seemed relaxed. Even his eyes had changed. Although they still carried a wince of something unknown - similar to concern but deeper in a way -, they were calmer. They were almost… gentle. It could’ve made you mad. He had made a huge thing out of nothing, stressed both you and Chris, and now dared to look at you with tenderness in his eyes. You exhaled, knowing it'd be pointless to yell at him. You were exhausted and had no energy spared to bicker. His motives was still undisclosed, but perhaps they weren’t important right now. You decided that your main task was to get whatever prescription as easily as possible, and then have a doctor to state you were not about to collapse. Then, not only would it solve the matter with your boss, but also it meant you would finally get rid of the man in front of you.

Okay, that sounds like a plan.

“Shall we?” Minho reached out his hand with an overly soft voice. You rolled your eyes.

"Weirdo." You cursed under your breath and avoided his hand, heading, finally, straight to the entrance. You did take note of the small chuckle he let out, and how he smoothly followed you behind.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Twenty)

Hi! Here’s Part Twenty! @greeneyedivy and I love you all and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some violence.

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“I knew it. I fucking knew she couldn’t have received those letters.”

Eris watched Linden pace before him, arms of pure, corded muscle rippling as he clenched his hands at his sides. The male was…certainly a presence. Domineering.

“She’s been missing you.” Eris said. “She thought…”

“That I hadn’t bothered to write? I should have tried harder.”

The two males had spoken for barely an hour, Eris sharing details as promptly as he could, but the short conversation was confirmation enough that Linden adored Y/N just as fiercely as she did him. A conflict had shadowed his dark eyes, and he looked…regretful. Troubled. Eris didn’t know what to say to make it better. Or whether it was even possible to do so.

“It isn’t your fault that my father intercepted the letters.” He’d try, anyway. “None of us could have known what—”

“Except I did know.” Linden cut him off, whirling around to face him. “I did.”

Eris stared back at him, waiting for the explanation that lay behind the haunted expression. He’d told Linden everything there was to know, but there was a stark sense of…something else. It seemed to fill the room, rob it of air.

Or perhaps that was just the male’s exquisite build—

“I should have stepped in sooner. Warned Y/N when I had the chance.” Linden’s words snapped Eris out of his thoughts. He shook his head. “…her father came to me, about a year before she was informed of her engagement. It was when the family business had truly gone under, and Jesper was becoming desperate.” He stopped his pacing, slumping into a chair. “You see, my family is…not good. They’re scum of the earth criminals. They peddle things like Faebane knowing damn well what damage it can do. I got away from them because I wanted nothing to do with it. But Jesper found out somehow. He started asking me questions. How these substances were created, what kind of profit they made. I told him I had nothing to do with it, but he still continued to ask. I knew. I knew he was up to something. I should have told Y/N right away.”

Eris knew all too well how easy it was to fall into a churning cycle of should haves. But it was equally pointless. It couldn’t change a thing.

“Be that as it may.” He said quietly. “You couldn’t have known the true scope of the situation. None of us could. All we can do, now, is try to fix it.”

Linden studied him. There was something so endless and assessing in those dark, uptilted eyes. It left Eris feeling strangely…bare. He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the heat that spread over the back of his neck. 

“What do you need me to do?” Linden asked. “Whatever it is…for Y/N, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

Eris didn’t doubt it for one second. “We’re working on how we’re going to take down my father. Tamlin is gathering information. Lucien is meeting with Y/N to tell her everything. All I know, right now, is that she’s going to need you. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

It was without hesitation that Linden rose from his seat, once again seeming to command the light and air in the room with his broad figure. He stood tall, meeting Eris’s gaze.

“Then we’d better get moving, lordling.”

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It was a rather intimate thing, Eris had surmised, travelling closely side-by-side, just his companion and the stretch of road for company. A way to truly get to know someone. Mere hours had built a rapport between him and Linden that was…new to him. Exciting.

They’d ridden for an entire day, and Eris was physically done-in. He wanted to be back on home turf, to bathe in an actual tub rather than in a stream. To eat proper food. It would be a bare-faced lie to say that he hadn’t been tempted to take the easy route and winnow himself and Linden back to the estate, but…whatever they were to face when they got there, he wanted every bit of his magic reserve intact. And if that meant another day or two of monotonous travel on horseback, then so be it. 

They’d stopped for the night under a canopy of trees, hoping to catch at least a few hours of rough, restless sleep before they set off again. Eris had thought that he was well accustomed to nature, to camping amongst the elements, but Linden…there were no words for the refined ruggedness of both his appearance and personality. A male who could truly take anything in his stride. 

Footsteps approaching from behind roused Eris slightly from his fatigue. He glimpsed up as Linden rounded the fire, returning from his wash in the lake. Eris’s heavy eyes became a tad more alert as they landed on the male. The glorious sculpt of muscles, the brown skin nicked and marked with scars, the rivulets of water running down his chest—

Godlike — the word bleated in Eris’s mind. Linden was godlike.

He couldn’t force his eyes away as the male grabbed a discarded shirt and used it to mop up the lingering water droplets that rolled down, down his pectorals and over his abs, further still until they dipped beneath the vee—

Linden’s dark eyes flicked up, and a smirk toyed with his lips. He knew the redhead was staring; had been doing a lot of staring, in fact. He may have deliberately stretched his arms over his head as he faced him properly.

“See something you like, Vanserra?”

Eris greatly resented the dusting of pink that he knew had appeared on his cheeks. He’d never been with a male — and that wasn’t for lack of fantasising about doing so. There was just…so much pressure on him to be the perfect male; the perfect future High Lord that would produce just-as-perfect heirs. It was that snag which had stopped him having the courage to explore such desires. 

But here, alone with Linden under the expanse of towering trees…surely he could give in and flirt, at the very least. He was good at flirting.

So he sat back, resting on his hands, and shrugged. “What if I do?”

Linden’s head fell into a tilt, his braids following the movement. “Have you ever been with a male?”

“I haven’t.”

Full lips kicked up into a half-smirk. “Not your bag?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Silence snaked around them as the two of them stared at each other, challenge appearing to spark in both their gazes. There was a beat, a pause, and then Linden let out a deep chuckle that skittered over Eris’s skin like a chill.

“Interesting.” He commented simply.

Eris sat up, curiosity piquing. “Have you?” He asked. “Been with a male?”

“I have.” Linden confirmed. “I enjoy both males and females. But I have a preference for males.”

It was strange — the pinch of thrill that shot through Eris. To hear somebody talk about such matters so openly, so proudly — to talk about it without glancing over their shoulder every few seconds. It made him feel…dangerous. Alive.

Perhaps that was how he found the courage to press, “what do you prefer about them?”

Linden glanced up at him through dark lashes, his body going still. And for a moment, Eris wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. He wanted to kick himself, to take it back—

But then Linden moved. Slowly. Traipsed round to the side of the fire on which Eris sat. Took a seat in front of him. 

He smelled like a heady mix of earth and woodsmoke and moss. The scent hit Eris in a pleasant wave, and he tried not to inhale too sharply at what that, alone, did to him. Tried not to stare too closely at the bare, muscled chest that was now mere inches from his touch.

“Do you really want to know?” Linden asked gruffly. The grit in his voice was like an awakening for Eris.

Eris swallowed. Sat up straighter. “Sure. Why not?”

Linden’s lips twitched, and Eris tracked the movement, wondering what they would feel like against his. He had a full mouth, lips generous and divine-looking. He had to be an excellent kisser. 

“Okay.” The general hummed, edging slightly closer. “I like the responses I can elicit just from blowing on a male’s cock. They try to maintain control, try to rein in their pleasure. But lick just the right spot and they’re begging for more. Begging to cum.”

“…oh.” Eris breathed. He was most definitely hard as a rock, straining painfully against his breeches. He tried to adjust himself, and Linden watched, his smirk widening. 

“I find,” he said, his eyes fully on the tightening of Eris’s breeches, “that there’s an area that most males enjoy. Just below the head. Something about it is so sensitive that you apply a little pressure, and it feels good enough for them to forget their own name.”

Eris’s eyes almost rolled back into his head. Gods, that sounded good. He didn’t know how he’d gone all these years without giving in and exploring such things. He wanted them all, wanted them now. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t a future High Lord with expectation and propriety weighing him down. He wanted Linden’s lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him dry until even the leaves on the trees knew precisely what responses he could elicit. 

And Linden knew that. Could see it on the male’s face. He smiled. “Would you like me to show you, lordling?”

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You could stay here forever.

Forever, in this gamekeeper’s cottage, you and Lucien hiding from the rest of the world. No Beron. No faebane. No forced nuptials to worry over. Just…love. Bliss. 

It had hurt to see the first shafts of daylight pouring through the window. The night in Lucien’s arms had gone too fast. The hours of warmth, of security, were fleeting. 

But he was your mate. And this would all be over soon. Soon, the first signs of a new day would be exciting. 

Mate. The word had entered your mind as you’d sat up in bed. You’d smiled, touching your fingers to your lips, your chest. The cottage was empty and silent around you — Lucien had woken you briefly not long before, whispering that he was going to find some manner of breakfast for the two of you. He’d kissed your head and left you to lightly snooze a while longer, which you had, the ghost of his lips still on your skin. 

You rose, now, with a lightness you hadn’t had this same time a day earlier. Mate, mate, mate. Lucien was your mate. Your love. Your soul.

You briefly readied yourself in the washroom, listening out for the click of the front door. Your lips tugged into a smile when the thud of footsteps carried through.

“Y/N?” The deep caress of Lucien’s voice followed it. Hearing it felt different, somehow, to all the times he’d spoken your name before. Like an oath. A promise. 

You dried your freshly-washed face, hurrying through to greet him. It would be an effort not to launch yourself at him. 

You stopped in the doorway, just…just taking in the sight of him, bathed in the morning sunlight. He was resplendent. Exquisite. His hair cascaded like waves of fire around his golden face. Your eyes snagged on the braid you’d given him, and you smiled. 

“Good morning.” 

He may not have even heard your greeting. He was staring at you, too, russet eyes full of unbridled emotion. He loosened a breath. “You are so godsdamn beautiful.” 

Colour touched your cheeks. “I just woke up.” 

“I know. I think this may just be my favourite version of you.” 

You smiled, lowering your eyes to the floor as he slowly approached. He placed down two wicker baskets before he stopped in front you. His hand gently clasped your jaw, and he ran his thumb over your lips. 

“Good morning.” He murmured. “My mate.”

Your breath released with a shudder, and there was no stopping you as you pushed up onto the tips of your toes and kissed him. Happily. Gladly. Freely.

His arms immediately snaked around you as he leaned in to the kiss. There was no happier place, no better world, than in his arms. That you’d tried to ignore your feelings for him, tried to force a future where he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his—

You shook those thoughts off, pulling back and smiling at him before you could start crying again. You wouldn’t waste precious moments on thinking of what had already passed. 

“I hope you’re hungry.” Lucien chuckled softly, reaching for the baskets he’d set aside. “I walked to the nearest market. Got just about everything you could possibly want.”

Indeed, there were fruits and cheeses and meats and a loaf of freshly-baked, crusty bread. Your stomach rumbled at the sight, and you reached for the first basket–

“I got you something else, as well.” Lucien said, a soft smile on his lips. 

You cocked your head. “Oh?” 

“At the market, a couple of young girls had a stall. They were selling these little flower chains they’d made. Or rather, trying to sell them. I couldn’t resist buying one.” 

You chuckled, watching as he produced a circlet of daisies from a small paper bag. He was grinning as he fastened it around your neck.

“There.” He hummed. “Fit for a queen.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t buy one for yourself.” You smiled. “You’d look so pretty with daisies around your neck and in your hair. I’m not sure I could keep my hands to myself.”

“Oh really?”

He leaned in, his scent enveloping you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips brush yours — before your stomach decided to announce your hunger again.

Lucien chuckled, pressing a quick peck to your lips before pulling away. He grabbed both baskets, carrying them over to the kitchenette. “We should really eat.”

And as much as you wanted to eat him in that moment, you were just as content to sit yourself at the small table and watch, basking in the domestic bliss of Lucien cutting up the fruits and cheese and slicing the bread and meats. He poured you both a drink of juice and carried the assortment of food — far more than you could possibly need — over to you. 

“For my love.” He kissed the top of your head. “Enjoy.”

A gentle, comfortable silence swathed the two of you as you dug in, savouring the tastes coating your tongue. You would remember these tastes — associate them with Lucien, with this moment, forever more. You were happy.

But it was halfway through your meal that you realised that Lucien didn’t seem quite so comfortable. You studied him, a kernel of worry in your gut as you reached out and wrapped your leg around his.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Lucien chewed slowly. A moment passed before he lifted his gaze to yours, and he grabbed your hand. “I need to talk to you about something—tell you something we discovered in this…mess.”

And that kernel inside you grew instantly. Not just worry, but…doom. Doom, as you shifted in your seat. “Okay…”

“…Eris discovered some hidden letters in our father’s office. Letters from Linden. He’d written to you during your first couple of weeks at the estate, but they were intercepted and hidden from you.”

Your body stiffened. Lucien’s thumb brushing over your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. “…But why? I know your father is a callous bastard, but…why bother? They’re just letters from my friend…”

Your words trailed off as Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back. Still gripped onto your hand. “They weren’t just any letters. Linden alluded to the fact that he had important information he needed to give you. He wanted to meet with you so you could talk.”

“Information?” 

“You see…there were other letters, too. Addressed to my father…from your father.” His fingers gripped tighter. “…the whole thing, Y/N — you and Dion getting married — was all a part in some twisted, convoluted plan that our fathers cooked up together.”

“I know that. My father wanted me to marry a high-standing male to save our reputation—”

“No, Y/N/.” Lucien cut you off gently. “Your father arranged for you to marry Dion as part of a bargain with my father. Your father had begun peddling faebane because of the gambling debts he’d racked up and the risk of what they could do to your family’s reputation. He…he essentially gave you to my father, to Dion, to get you out of the way. So that they could negotiate their sales without you finding out and trying to put a stop to it.”

You weren’t sure you were breathing. 

Your entire body had gone ice-cold. Stiff. A strange sensation of pinpricks crawled over your skin. 

No. Surely your father wouldn’t stoop so low. He’d undoubtedly changed since the family business had gone under, but he wasn’t a bad male. Wasn’t someone who would bring harm to anyone’s door — much less his own children—

But despite your pleading, whirring thoughts, you knew damn well that Lucien wouldn’t be telling you this without reason. Without evidence. 

You tried to swallow the lump that had grown in your throat, and the tears that rolled down your cheeks were starkly warm against your frozen skin. You were only just able to croak out, “you’re sure about this?”

“I wish I wasn’t, my love.” There was a rustle, some movement — and then a pile of envelopes was placed in front of you. “Eris made copies of all the letters.”

For a moment, you just…stared at them. You didn’t know if you had the courage to read the truth. But some small part of you knew that you needed to. That you needed to finally put the puzzle pieces of this entire bizarre situation together. To step back and look at the picture they created.

With shaking hands, you reached out. And you forced yourself to read.

Every word was like a punch to your gut. Like wiping clean what you thought you knew of the man who had raised you. You didn’t…didn’t recognise the person who had written these letters, who was doing these things. And to essentially sell you to the Vanserras — to get you off his hands…

You tossed those ones aside before you could finish reading them. But it was Linden’s letters — his tone and his manner in writing — that truly finished you off. Your tears splashed against the pages, blurring your eyes and making it impossible to read. But you could hear his voice in your head. Warning you. Telling you to stay strong. And the idea that he’d thought you hadn’t wanted to write to him—

The letter drifted from your hands, onto the table, just as a sob broke from your throat. So many emotions were warring inside you at once. You didn’t know which to focus on, how to process them.

Lucien was immediately pushing out of his chair, rounding the table to where you sat. With utter ease, he was scooping you up into his arms and lowering himself into your seat, securing you in his lap. You clung to him, the front of his shirt, as you gave in to another onslaught of tears.

“It’s going to be alright.” He soothed you quietly, pressing his lips to your hair. 

You cried harder, barely able to get your words out. “My father—the hamlet fire—”

“I know. I know. The whole thing is fucked up. But they’re not getting away with this, I promise you.”

You pulled back, just enough to stare at Lucien through your teary eyes. “How can you be so sure? No one has ever stopped Beron before—”

“It’s different now. We have more people on our side than our fathers do on theirs. And he’s been rapidly losing support as High Lord for a while, now — particularly since the Harvest Festival last year, and then the hamlet fire. He’s losing his power. And we’re going to leach him of every last bit of it and expose him for what he is, what he’s done. We’re going to take him down.”

“But—but how do you outsmart and take down pure evil?”

“Tamlin has had his people watching him while I’ve been away — gathering information and evidence.” Lucien leaned down, his lips brushing away each tear on your cheeks. “That’s why I have to return to the Spring Court for the time being. To find out what he knows and help him. We’ve already learned that my father is meeting with yours today, all the way in Rask  — Dion is going to use his skill and follow them. Spy on the meeting. My mother is willing to help any way that she can. And Eris…Eris has gone to track Linden down. To bring him back to our court. There is…no way, Y/N, that our fathers are getting away with this. Not once we’re finished with them.”

The information — all of it — was swimming in your head, clashing against each other like waves against rocks. You half wanted to slam your hands against your ears and hide, to reject everything you were hearing, but—

“Eris is bringing Linden back?” You sat up — and paused. “…Your father is meeting with mine today?” So many questions, you couldn’t ask them all at once.

“Yes.” Lucien studied you cautiously. “But Dion is dealing with that. You’re not to go anywhere near that meeting, do you hear me?”

You heard him. But that impulsive, furious part of you wanted to damn it all to hell and go storming straight to your father. To confront him face-to-face.

“Y/N.” Lucien dragged your gaze back to this. “We’re doing this the proper way. Believe me, I want nothing more than to confront both my father and yours, and gut them both. But that isn’t the way to solve this. We can only win this with information and evidence. By outsmarting them and exposing them.” His arms tightened around you. “I want you to go back to the estate and stay with my mother. Alright? Promise me that you will.”

You stared into those deep, russet eyes, reading the emotion, the pleading, that lay there. Everyone knew you could be foolish and ruled by your short fuse, but…but the only way of getting what you wanted — of seeing a happy ending with the male you were so in love with — would be by following their leads. This was an intricate game that they were far more well-equipped to play than you were. You wouldn’t destroy the outcome for everyone by being impulsive, reckless.

“I promise.” You said, and you meant it with your whole heart. “I’ll go back to the estate and stay with your mother. Just…just be careful. Please—”

Your worries were smothered by Lucien’s lips slanting over yours, the kiss hard and promising. He cupped your face, and it was though he was committing the feel and taste of you to memory as he claimed your mouth with his. He only pulled away to suck in a deep intake of breath.

“This’ll all be over soon, my fireling.” He breathed against your lips. “We’ll be together soon.”

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Rask was a wise territory in which to meet. Rask was so preposterously big that even the High Lord of the Autumn Court could stroll through its packed streets without garnering attention. 

Dion understood the logic behind Beron and Jesper agreeing to meet here, but that didn’t make the stifling heat any more pleasant to endure. To any innocent bystander, he and Willow were just one of many wealthy couples strolling through the streets with parasols and hand-held fans and clothes so expensive they could feed an entire village for a year. But though Dion was by no means a honed, seasoned spy, not at all confident in his abilities – his skill was in conversation, in charm – he would sooner throw himself into the centre of the action than have Y/N do so – again.

He and Willow had been here for a day already, a happy, young couple — for all intents and purposes — simply holidaying on the continent. But they’d familiarised themselves with landscapes, learned exactly where this meeting was to be held. They were leaving nothing to chance.

Dion hadn’t even wanted to bring Willow with him, but…as his brilliant, wonderful love had pointed out, they were far more likely to blend in as a couple, than a lone male would, scoping out the streets. And blend in, they did.

It was mid-morning, the sun already unbearably hot, when they glimpsed Barric through the cafe window they were sat beside. Indeed, the male, striding along alone, did look rather misplaced amongst the couples and groups. The mere sight of him had white-hot rage building in Dion that he had to tamp down on. Willow kicked him beneath the table for good measure. 

Right. He needed to focus. The timing had to be perfect. They’d learned, through Tamlin’s sentinels, that Barric would be disembarking at the docks at ten o’clock – which he had. He would make his way to the public gardens and be joined an hour later by Beron and Jesper. A perfectly reasonable place for three businessmen to take a leisurely stroll whilst holding an inconspicuous meeting. Nobody would suspect anything untoward, or even pay them any mind. 

Dion and Willow waited until Barric was firmly out of sight before they rose from their seats, paying for their breakfast and returning to the busy Raskian streets. They kept to the darker corners of the city, the alleys and more impoverished areas – places in which they knew they weren’t at risk of running into the High Lord’s advisor. They retraced the route they’d planned in the room at the inn the night before, thanks to the map Tamlin had provided them with. It was certainly not as pleasant a walk as they would have taken on the main streets or the promenade, no – but through the winding, cobblestone paths of the city’s underbelly, they could find their way to the public gardens more or less unseen and undetected. 

They arrived around thirty minutes before Beron and Jesper were due to. Once again, they blended in with the various other couples who were strolling the paths that wended through the hedges and bushes. Rather bold, really, for the High Lord to conduct such discussions in such a public place – but the coded, secretive language would mean nothing to these people. No one would know what the males amongst them were capable of. 

No sign of Barric, yet, but Dion wasn’t concerned. He need only place himself in his father’s mind, think like him. He tucked Willow’s arm within his own and guided her around, pretending to peruse the flowers and shrubs. But he was looking for quiet, shaded alcoves. For somewhere Beron might stand and talk whilst maintaining a picture of ease and utter casualness. 

The pair were just rounding a large conifer hedge when Dion yanked Willow back with him, pressing her against the wall of shrubbery. Barric approached from the other direction, hands in his pockets and his shoulders rolled back. He headed to a stone pavilion at the back of the garden. A quiet corner, indeed. 

They kept their footsteps light as they followed the line of hedges that encased the pavilion in an almost circular formation. There, they could wait. There, they could listen. 

Sweat rolled down Dion’s neck, his hair sticking to his skin. The heat was truly unbearable, and even more so with he and Willow squished so closely together. A rustle had him pressing her even closer against him, and she shoved a hand over her mouth, stifling a yelp as he stepped on her foot. There was no comfort in spying, in being discreet – his thoughts flitted momentarily to Azriel of the Night Court, and he wondered how the male did it with such ease.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was unbearable. But with every passing minute, the other members of the public had steered well clear of that quiet corner of the gardens. Perhaps Barric had spoken to the staff ahead of time, insisted that they not be disturbed—

Chimes peeled nearby, announcing eleven o’clock. Beron and Jesper would be here any moment. Beron Vanserra despised poor time-keeping. Was never, ever late. 

The sound of footsteps scuffing on the stone path had both Dion and Willow tensing. He pushed her closer against the hedge, tempted to hold his breath, to not make a sound as he listened to the approaching people – no, he realised, approaching person. That was only one pair of footsteps. And not headed towards the pavilion, but rounding the corner—

He turned just in time to come face-to-face with Barric. Barric, who merely smiled at the two of them, unsurprised. He took in the sight of Dion and Willow with a strange look of amusement in his eyes. There was no Beron. No Jesper…

Alarm bells began ringing inside of Dion’s mind. He stood up straight, angling himself in front of Willow as Barric began to stroll towards them. 

“Oh, dear me.” He purred, a figure of pure assuredness. His eyes flicked over Dion, and his lips twitched. “Does Y/N know that you’ve taken to rutting among the conifers with the younger, prettier sister? I can’t imagine she’d be all too thrilled.” 

Dion’s jaw clenched. He had no words. The situation was suddenly clear as day before him.

The whole thing had been a fucking trap.

“What a coincidence, that we should end up in Rask at the same time as each other.” Barric clicked his tongue. “Except, of course, it’s no coincidence at all, is it?” 

Dion swallowed. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to–”

“This was a fun little experiment. So rarely do I get to visit the continent.” He leaned past Dion to shoot a positively lupine smile at Willow. “I take it this is your first time here? Beautiful weather, no?”

“What,” Dion gritted out, “experiment?” 

Barric rolled his eyes. “I must say, Dion, I’m a tad disappointed. I thought you were smarter than this. You didn’t actually think that Beron could be spied on without finding out, did you? He suspected for weeks that he was being watched. This was just a fun way to confirm it. Though, I’m a little annoyed – I bet ten gold marks that your feral fiancee would be the one to follow us.”

Dion clenched his fists at his side. He wanted to throttle him, to kill him. He’d been so fucking stupid. 

“My father’s not here?” He asked. 

“No, Dion, your father’s not here. Do you truly believe he has time to go gallivanting around Rask when there’s work to be done? You made a wasted journey, I’m afraid. But at least I can go back and tell him he was right — that he was being spied on.” He tsked sarcastically. “And by his own son, no less. I’m sure he’ll have a small amount of leniency for his kin, but…well, Tamlin’s sentinels didn’t have the same kind of luck.” 

“You killed them?” Willow finally spoke on a breath, staring wide-eyed over Dion’s shoulder. 

“Me?” Barric scoffed. “No. I was on a ship to Rask by then. But I believe the High Lord had a fun time doing so. And he’s even being generous enough to return their bodies to the Spring Court – well, their heads, anyway. On spikes.” 

Dion…Dion needed to get Willow out of there. Now. If she didn’t vomit, he may just do it for the both of them.

He grabbed hold of her hand, tugging. He could barely get his shaking legs to move as he snarled, “Come on.” 

“Oh, are you leaving?” Barric tilted his head. “That’s a shame. These gardens are so beautiful. I do hope I didn’t ruin your experience. If I were you, I’d make the most of your trip — give Beron some time to calm down before you return home.” 

Dion didn’t deign to respond. Every part of him trembled, but he pushed himself forward. Pushed himself to hold Willow close and hurry past. To…to go back to their inn, or…or wherever. He didn’t know. His head was swimming, spinning. He needed to get them out.

But Barric called after them one more time.

“Dion?” His lips twitched upwards. “You can’t win, you know. There’s no use in trying.”

Again, he didn’t bother with a response. Didn’t even look back. 

But as he hurried himself and Willow out of there, feeling like he was wading through mud, he couldn’t help feeling like Barric’s words rang true. 

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Go back to the estate and stay with my mother.

You would do just that. Whatever Lucien needed you to do. You could still feel him on you, smell him on you, and that in itself gave you the strength to just sit tight and wait. 

You couldn’t help feeling unease, though, after you’d returned your horse to the stables. As you climbed the steps up to the front door, the place felt…wrong. As though you were walking straight into a trap.

Paranoid. You were simply paranoid from all the information you’d learned.

Still, that paranoia kept you on high alert whilst you began travelling the winding corridors of the house, in search of Catrin. You knew that the High Lord and Barric were still away from the estate, as were most of the other Vanserras, but…something felt off. Even with the usual servants milling around and completing their jobs, it felt almost as if the entire property was…was holding its breath. Waiting.

“Catrin?” You called softly, opening the door to the sitting room she favoured. The area was empty, dark. No teacups or open books or signs that anyone had been in there recently. 

You pursed your lips, shutting the door again. Maybe you should try the solarium; she often enjoyed watching the evening sun pour through the windows in various pastel hues. You could sit with her, and tell her that she was right — that you were going to fight for your love. 

You turned, rounding another corner – and smacked into someone.

Not Catrin. The figure was far too big, far too imposing. Tall and muscled and firm. Your stomach bottomed out as Beron Vanserra’s spiced scent filled your nose. 

Slowly, you stepped back. Swallowed. The High Lord cocked his head at you, not unlike a curious cat. 

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, a voice bleated in your head. Watch yourself.

“Apologies, my lord.” Your voice barely came out, a mere rasp. “I didn’t see you there.” 

His lips jerked into an unkind smile. “Snooping about the halls? Have you nothing better to do?”

“I was looking for Ca—Lady Autumn. I thought we might have tea together.”

Your quick correction clearly wasn’t enough. Realisation crossed his face, swept away by thunder. You’d given away that she’d shared her name with you — and he hated it. Hated her having an identity, something besides the title he’d stamped to her. Hated that things went on beneath his nose.

But he schooled his features into neutrality. “Interesting,” was all he offered.

You dipped your chin, stepping aside. “Excuse me.” Go back to the estate and stay with my mother. Go back to the estate and stay with my mother. You couldn’t get yourself into trouble if you simply…avoided it. Did as you were told.

But the High Lord’s arm was whipping out, blocking your path so quickly that you walked into it. It was firm, like a true barricade able to hold you back. You stiffened.

“Lady Autumn,” he said, his tone dripping with distaste, “is at the market, where I sent her. I needed you and I to be able to talk in peace.”

You swallowed, your eyes not moving from his arm. “What could we have to talk about?”

He moved so fast, there was no chance for you to even register that the strong, muscled arm was scooping you up and shoving you into the sitting room, slamming the door shut behind you. You winced as he pinned you against the wall, barely a space between you. His scent was too much, too strong.

“You’re posing a great deal of problems for me, Y/N.” He murmured lethally. “And I don’t like it.”

You didn’t—couldn’t—raise your eyes to his. You honed in on an insignificant, dark blot on his collar. So unusual for the High Lord to be anything besides pristine. To have carelessly allowed his crisp tunic to be stained with ink, or—

No, not ink. Blood. That was blood.

Only then did you meet his gaze, your voice like steel as you gritted out, “what have you done.”

Not Catrin. Please, please not Catrin. Had he somehow found out about your little trip outside the estate, your conversation? Had he—had he hurt her?

The High Lord glanced down at the stain of blood on his tunic. His lips twitched. “I merely doled out a justified punishment to Tamlin’s sentinels. I don’t like being watched, Y/N.”

Your stomach turned. You were going to be sick. “Seems to me that hiding that big cache of Faebane has turned you paranoid—”

You flinched, words cutting off as his hand rose. But he merely lowered it to your hair, his fingers sinking through the strands and…and finding your braid. Toying with it. His eyes studied it, and he seemed to smile knowingly.

“Do you know what I find mighty curious, Y/N?”

You didn’t miss a single movement of his. “What?”

That small, barely-there gap between your two bodies was closed as he leaned in. You stiffened, not daring to breathe as the ridge of his nose coasted along your throat, and he inhaled.

“I can smell my son all over you.” His voice was too close, too much, a scrape against your skin. “Over every. Single. Inch of you.”

You tried to back up, to no avail. “Dion and I never swore an oath of celibacy before the wedding. What of it?”

Beron chuckled — an awful, grating sound. “Wrong son. Try again.”

“Dion—”

“Dion,” he spat, his hand snapping up to wrap around your throat, “is in Rask with Willow. Because the two of them went there to spy on me, didn’t they? And fell flawlessly into my trap. Barric is dealing with them as we speak.”

Every word eddied from your mind.  Every word except your sister’s name. Willow, Willow, Willow. You hadn’t known she’d gone with Dion, hadn’t known that—

Fell flawlessly into my trap.

Barric is dealing with them as we speak.

“What are you—” You managed to gasp out around your quickening breaths. “What have you done?”

“Besides defending what’s mine? My right?” Beron shrugged. “Besides punishing traitors—”

“You are the traitor.” You snapped. “You and my fucking father. Betraying your people. Harming them.”

The High Lord chuckled — chuckled. And it was enough to incense you. Enough to spark that fury inside of you that gave you enough strength to shove him away from you.

“You’re sick.” You sneered. “You’ve done so much damage — to your own people, your court — and you don’t even care. But rest assured, Beron, you won’t get away with it. We will destroy you, just as you have destroyed so much. We’re going to expose you, and—”

Your words must have hit a nerve. Because Beron struck. 

One moment, he was sneering at you. The next — in a flash of movement so fast, you barely had time to register it — he was grabbing you by the neck, raising an object over your head.

He squeezed hard, and you clawed at his hand, fought and fought to rip it from your skin.

But then his other hand was slicing down. Something hit your head with a thunderous blow.

You knew nothing more than the darkness that seeped in.

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The High Lord stood over the female, his breaths heaving.

She didn’t move.

Crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a deep gash on her head. He could hear that she was still breathing — just about. For now.

He’d known he’d have to deal with her eventually. 

He nudged her with the toe of his boot. It only caused her arm to flop back. Good. She wouldn’t wake any time soon — not before it was too late.

Everything had got too close to comfort. Watchful eyes everywhere, whispers amongst his kin. There was evidence — evidence he needed rid of. 

Y/N being the most glaring piece of evidence.

He would raze this place to the ground before he’d allow his secrets to be exposed. Words were nothing without proof — and this manor was full of the stuff. 

He stepped over Y/N’s crumpled body. She didn’t so much as twitch. Didn’t stir as he slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

He felt nothing as he walked through the halls of the manor, towards his office. That was where the bulk of the proof lay.

And so that was where the heart of the destruction would begin.

He flung the door open wordlessly. The guards were with Catrin, accompanying her to the market, just as he’d instructed. The servants never dared spare him a glance. Perhaps they’d feel differently after today. 

His eyes took one sweeping look of his office, and still, he felt nothing. Wasn’t capable of feeling anything. He’d always been cold, stoic. Always needed to be.

There was no flicker of emotion for the wealth of possessions he’d accumulated over the years. No emotion for the proud domain of a High Lord.

And no emotion for his two sons who lounged on a couch, lying in wait. Jareth and Rian glanced up upon his arrival, waiting dutifully for instruction.

“You called for us, father?” Jareth sat up, eagerness shining in his eyes.

Beron strode to the desk. The desk that would be ashes within the hour. “The time has come for the two of you to prove yourselves to me.” 

Both males immediately straightened where they sat. They were different to their brothers — had none of Catrin’s softness, and all of Beron’s cunning.

“What are we to do?” Rian asked.

Beron stared into space, as if seeing something no one else could. “I want every room on this level burning within minutes.”

His sons stilled, sharing a glance. It was Jareth who repeated, “…burning?”

“I want you to set fires. As many as you possibly can without being seen.”

“…to the manor?” Rian stared at him.

The High Lord’s eyes shot to him. “Yes, you imbecile, to the manor. The whole place needs to go up in flames. You know of the discourse amongst the court — that villagers have been steadily turning on me. The fire will be blamed on them. On an uprising of brutes. And I, their High Lord, will be running straight towards the danger and rescuing innocent servants and staff from the blaze.” While vital evidence is burned, he didn’t add. “No one will dare question their loyalty to me after today.”

There was clearly a moment of hesitation between the two sons. A part of them that wanted to argue that this was their home, these were their things, that they loved it here.

But their father was their High Lord. And with a scathing last look from him, they rose and slunk from the room to follow orders.

Beron stood from the chair at his desk. Took one last look at the study.

He glanced down at his hands, summoning flames to his fingertips. Strode towards the door.

And with one jerk of his wrist, the entire study became an inferno. The heat was stifling, the flames spreading, eating up the carpet and furniture. The evidence. He shut the door behind him with barely a glance.

He backed away, not at all hurried. But as he strolled to the exit, he tuned in to the sounds of similar fires bursting through rooms. Destroying things.

And soon, the most vital things would be gone.

Soon, there would be nothing of Y/N and the evidence, besides a pile of ashes.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

He took a back exit, into the gardens, and followed the path to the front. By the time he’d strolled there, black smoke was already churning out of the windows and doors. Panicked cries had begun to seep out from inside. He wasn’t worried that any of the staff would find Y/N; very few of them ventured to the lower areas, the personal areas, without express permission.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Catrin approaching, Beron’s two guards at her sides and pure horror on her face. The basket she’d taken to the market was tossed aside, and she grasped the skirts of her gown, running towards the manor.

Beron shot into her path so quickly, she stumbled into him. He barely glanced at his guards, ordering them with a jerk of his chin. “Go and help. Quickly.”

The two of them took off in a sprint, running for the manor. Shouts carried out to them – and heat. Unbearable, stifling heat.

Catrin attempted to sidestep Beron, her entire body visibly shaking. “What is—”

“Don’t,” The High Lord cut her off menacingly, “you dare.”

But she was panicked, trying to push past him, to see past him. “What happened? How many people are in there? Beron—”

He was tired of dealing with hysterical females. He gripped her with one hand, so hard that he knew it would bruise. Used the other hand to unsheath his dagger. 

She was far too preoccupied to notice as he drove the hilt into the back of her skull, and she crumpled just as Y/N had.

He laid her down on the lawn. By the time she awoke, it would be too late to help. 

And then he hurried back inside.

To play the hero.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[p5x-theories]

Not sure if anyone following this blog is having any trouble with the Shadow Katayama fight, but I just beat her (after several attempts) and figured out what felt like a pretty good strategy, so I wanted to share just in case it helps anyone else?

First and foremost, I realized that damage from status ailments doesn't add to her Rage meter (the pink one above her health bar, which goes up whenever you attack her based on the damage you deal), thanks to Key's burns since he's part of my go-to team. This really became the key (pun intended) to my strategy: deal as much damage as possible to her with ailments, so her attacks don't get too much stronger. Consistently attacking is important too, though, since the turn limit is always a concern.

Morgana's my go-to healer usually, since he's the only way to revive teammates, but while he lasted pretty long when I tried it with him the first time, ultimately the extra attacks Katayama was getting from hitting his electricity weakness were slowing things down. Probably any healer who isn't weak to electricity will work for this fight, I think? I went with Summer Tomoko because I like her ability to heal and hit the enemy at the same time.

That left two teammate slots to try to maximize ailment damage. There aren't actually a lot of teammates that really do that right now? Key was the obvious one, at least to me, because I always take advantage of his burn and Holy Fire ailments hehe, but I realized Messa is probably the other best teammate here, because his Bleeding ailment also damages a target on their turn, and he resists Physical, which is the other attack type that Katayama has.

So, with all that in mind, my team was Wonder with that 5-star blue knife that boosts his healing ability (Personas: Sarasvati, Oberon, and Anubis), Summer Tomoko with the regular Moko's 3-star knives, Key with his 4-star weapon, and Messa with his 3-star weapon. They're all level 80 themselves, but I think only Wonder's weapon was level 80; Summer Tomoko and Key's weapons were level 70, and Messa's was 51 because I'm in the middle of catching him up, heh. I can double check what cards I have on them, if anyone wants to literally copy my setup, but I wanted to give a general idea of the power level my team was at.

My strategy then was just keeping everyone healthy, and making sure Katayama was taking as much damage as possible on each of her turns. With Key, his first fire skill has a high chance of burn, and then his second progresses the burn to Holy Fire (without consuming the original burn), and his third deals extra damage when the enemy has Holy Fire, so it was roughly a cycle of first skill -> second skill -> third skill, trying to keep her burned and Holy Fire-d at all times, above all else.

Messa was a bit funny, because I was technically only using half his capabilities: since his Executioner form consumes the Bleeding status effect, I had much better results from only using his Hunter form, and never switching. Essentially, I'd use his first skill until 9-10 Bleeding were stacked on Katayama (I believe 10 is the max?), then use his second skill to constantly refresh them so the Bleeding never wore off.

Wonder swapped mostly between Sarasvati and Anubis as needed- Sarasvati to heal the team, and Anubis to use his main curse skill, which afflicts the curse status ailment, adding to the damage Katayama was taking every turn. I rarely used Oberon, but he does have Matarukaja, so I used that occasionally if healing wasn't needed but it didn't make sense to attack either.

Summer Tomoko I had mostly using her third skill, which allows other teammates' attacks to inflict Sparks, so she could usually get 1-2 triggers of her followup attack/heal per turn. If someone's health in particular was really bad, I occasionally had her heal them instead, and if I wouldn't be able to have Key, Messa, and Wonder all attack that round, I had her use her first skill instead, since it triggers a slightly more powerful followup attack/heal immediately.

This part's probably obvious, but in the two free rounds where Katayama is withdrawn and won't attack, I always had Summer Tomoko heal someone (whether anyone needed the healing or not, it allows them to inflict more Sparks for a round), Wonder use Oberon to buff everyone's attack, and Key and Messa guard.

As far as Wind's skills go, I'm admittedly not sure how useful her first one actually is on a boss who can't be knocked down like Katayama, so I mostly stuck to her third skill whenever her cooldown finished. I only used the first skill if I couldn't use the third.

All that said, I'm not sure how much this actually helps- I know Messa and Summer Tomoko are both limited 5-stars, so it's unlikely everyone has them- but I hope at least the core strategy makes a difference?

It might be possible to brute-force her fight, too, as long as you have a really good healer; I got all the way to the last pair of eyes (the last part of the final stage of the fight) with Morgana, Key, and Queen, and even with Summer Tomoko, Key, and Queen. If you can do enough damage to speed through the early stages of the fight, and heal enough to make up for Katayama's stronger attacks, you can probably make it work, but you might need to power up your team as much as possible beforehand (levels, weapons, cards, Persona skills) and some luck.