#genuinely i hope all of my abusers never know happiness again. they took mine from me. its taken so long to get it back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Note

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

251 notes · View notes

fics-n-stuff · 3 years

Text

Affluenza | Pt2

Pairing: JJ × Kook!Reader

Summary: Y/N celebrates her birthday with a party that she didn't want to throw and finds out a sad truth about the boy that's not quite her boyfriend, but being in each other's company makes things at least a little better.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and descriptions of injury, reference to drugs

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I'm so happy that so many people liked pt1!! It means the absolute world to me that people are reading and enjoying my work 🥰 Pt3 might take a little longer to get out, but I'll try to post it asap.

Taglist: @alotbnouf @fairypitou @305weasley @thecraziestcrayon @sofamochi @arvinrussellseggplant

Thanks for reading guys ❤

Pt1 here | Pt3 here

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday on Saturday!?” JJ exclaimed, letting go of your hand and sitting up from where you had both been lying on the deck of your boat.

“I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” You replied with a laugh. “I kinda just forgot to mention it.”

“But what if I wanted to buy you a present?”

“I don’t need a present from you JJ.” You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek and pulling him down for a kiss.

The two of you had been dating for a couple of months now, and although you very much considered yourselves to be together neither of you had said the words ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’ yet. The time you spent together was private, you kept it a secret from everyone; you didn’t want your family to know and he was hesitant to tell his friends, exactly why you weren’t sure but you didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t as if you were sneaking around, you were just being careful.

“I have plenty things already, your company is enough.” You said, pulling away from the kiss and sitting up yourself. “But unfortunately I won’t be able to see you on my actual birthday. Mom’s making me throw a party and every teenager on Figure Eight will be there, so I doubt you’d want to come.”

“I wouldn’t be welcome even if I did want to.” JJ chuckled. You hummed in agreement.

“That’s why I wanted to celebrate today.” You chirped, getting up to retrieve a cooler that you had brought with you.

“What’s in there?”

“A special birthday picnic.”

“Oh, I see.” He grinned as you took your seat opposite him again. “And what does that consist of?”

“Well, let’s have a look.” You opened up the cooler and looked in at what you had packed with a smile. “Of course the standard picnic items; sandwiches, fruit, some baked sweets.” You listed as you took them out of the cooler. “And then, as I learned from my mother, a young lady cannot celebrate her birthday without a bottle of champagne.”

“Fancy.” JJ nodded, taking the bottle from you.

“Not as fancy as these.” You said, taking the glasses out. “Crystal champagne flutes. I snuck them out of the cabinet. We only use them for the most special of occasions and my mom loves them so we have to be careful.”

“I can be careful.” JJ poured the champagne, and you clinked your glasses with a smile. “Happy early birthday.”

“This is a much better celebration than my party will be.” You sighed, finishing your sip and setting your glass down. “I don’t understand why my mom insists that I have to have one, I’m not actually friends with anyone that’s coming.”

“But I thought you said every kid on Figure Eight was going? You’re not friends with anybody?”

“No, not really. They’re all just so fake, I can’t stand it. I genuinely don’t think that any of them are really friends with each other and they’re just constantly pretending, but I can’t be bothered to pretend.” You rolled your eyes and JJ laughed.

“Sounds exhausting.” He smiled.

“What are your friends like, J?” You asked, genuinely just curious. He told you a bit about them, stories of the crazy stuff they had done, but you never got in depth about it. You felt like it was probably because he wasn’t ready to integrate the two parts of his life.

“They’re good.” He nodded. “I mean, we’re basically family. They’re just not the biggest fans of Kooks.”

“Well, neither are you.” You giggled.

“You know what I mean. I think you’d like them, I’m just worried that they wouldn’t want to give you chance.”

“How much do you bet I could win them over just like I did you?”

“I wouldn’t love it if you won them over exactly the same way as me.” He smirked, gently taking hold of your chin and pulling you in for a kiss, which you both laughed into. “I'm gonna get you a birthday present. What if I come by on Saturday just for a minute to deliver it?”

“You know I’ll be happy to see you, but nobody else at the party will.”

“Eh, who cares.” He shrugged, and you grinned broadly.

“Okay, if you insist.” You conceded. “Now let’s eat this picnic that I so painstakingly curated.”

+ + +

Your birthday party was in full swing, the ground floor of your house teeming with teenagers. People were drinking, dancing and jumping in the pool and you weren’t enjoying any of it.

Your mother had gifted you a particularly ugly necklace that was basically just a tangle of gold chain, and Nicholas had openly bad mouthed your father for only getting you a few books, even though that’s what you had asked for. The detest that you felt for him was justified. Your dad was actually supposed to have arrived back on the island the day before, but it wasn’t unusual for him to get held up with work.

You pushed past a group of boys having some loud conversation on your way into the kitchen and poured yourself a strong drink. You threw the drink back in one gulp and slammed the plastic cup back down onto the countertop with a loud sigh.

“What’s wrong, birthday girl?” Topper asked over the music, his arm slung around Sarah’s shoulders as they came up beside you.

“I’m fine.” You shrugged.

“Did your dad get you a good present this year?” Sarah asked with a smile. “A new car maybe?”

“I already have a car.” You replied with a flat chuckle. “He got me some books that I asked for.”

“That’s kinda boring.” Topper commented. You rolled your eyes and Sarah smacked him in the side.

“I think that’s sweet. What kind if books?”

You told Sarah about the books you had gotten, actually kind if enjoying the conversation. Sarah was actually pretty easy to talk to, you felt like the fact that you weren’t putting on an act made her kind of drop hers, and it was a refreshing break from the way that the rest of the teens on Figure Eight were constantly pretending to be the perfect versions of themselves.

Your explanation of the premise of one of your books was interrupted when you felt your phone ringing in your pocket. You took it out and saw that it was your dad, and you smiled.

“I gotta take this.” You excused quickly before rushing outside to get away from the music. You answered the call excitedly, greeting your dad with a bright tone.

“Hey, Pumpkin, happy birthday!” He exclaimed. “I’m sorry I didn’t call this morning, I got caught up in meetings. You know how it is.”

“I know, dad. It’s okay, you’re calling now. Are you done with work? Do you think you’ll get here tonight?” You questioned eagerly. You heard him let out a sigh, and your smile fell.

“About that, sweetheart, I’ve had a few bumps in the road.” He began. You felt your heart sink and you were already scolding yourself for getting your hopes up before he could even tell you what the reason for missing your birthday was. “My meetings haven’t gone as well as I’d hoped and it looks like I’m going to be held up for a few more days.”

“Oh, right, okay.” You nodded, keeping your voice steady even as your eyes welled with tears. “Hope things get better then.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really did want to be there. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back; we can have a movie marathon night, completely your pick.” You let out a chuckle despite yourself. He might not be around much but he still knew you well, and movie marathon nights were one of your favourite things to do with him.

“Sounds great, dad. I can’t wait.”

“I hope you’ve had a good day, at least. What have you been getting up to?”

“I’m having a party, actually.” You replied. You didn’t need to tell him that you didn’t want to have the party and weren’t actually really enjoying it.

“Right now? I’ll let you get back to it then.” Your dad smiled down the phone. “Have fun.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Love you, Pumpkin.”

“Love you too.”

You said your goodbyes and ended the call, and you tucked your phone back into the pocket of your shorts. You just stood there for a few moments, the loud music and whooping of partying teenagers emanating from the house, before tears began to fall. You shook with a silent sob and had to take a seat on the concrete of your driveway.

You sat there, with your legs pulled up to your chest and your head in your knees, for a few minutes. You sniffed, wiping your tears away on the back of your hand, when you heard a shuffle of footsteps and looked up quickly.

“JJ.” You acknowledged quickly, furiously wiping at your eyes as he walked up the driveway.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asked, his voice edged with concern. You were ready to brush away his concerns, but as he got closer you saw the bruising on his face and suddenly you had some worries of your own.

“What happened to you?”

“I asked first.” JJ countered. You watched him as he came to sit down next to you, lifting your hand and softly placing it just below his purpled cheekbone, inspecting the fresh bruising around his eye and the split in his lip, then noticing the discolouration around his collarbone. He took the hand away gently, intertwining your fingers, and you saw that there was no bruising on his knuckles; these weren’t injuries earned in a fair fight. “Why are you crying?” He repeated.

“No, that doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. You weren’t trying to downplay your upset anymore, you just knew that whatever had happened to JJ was more important. “Who did this to you, JJ?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He smiled, but there was no joy or amusement behind it. You hesitated for a moment before conceding.

“My dad missed my birthday again.” You told him. “The last time he actually made it home for my actual birthday was when I turned eleven, and yet somehow I still get my hopes up every year. I hate this party, there are at least three different types of club drugs being taken in my house right now, I’m sad. You’re turn.”

JJ sighed. He looked down at your joined hands, pausing to think for a moment before looking back up at you. He let out a short breath of soft laughter, lifting his free hand and smoothing his thumb over the crease that had formed on your brow.

“Promise not to freak out?” He asked.

“Okay.” You replied shakily. You could try to limit your reaction at least. “But you have to tell me the truth, J.”

“My dad hits me.” JJ said quickly, and you felt your lips part in shock. “I stay with John B most of the time, I try to stay out of his way when I’m home, but it’s not like I can avoid him completely.”

“Wha- Why don’t you tell somebody?” You stuttered. “Call the police or protective services or-?”

“I don’t want to.” He interrupted. “I’m happy here with my friends and if I get protective services involved then they’ll ship me off to the mainland. I can deal with my dad.”

“This doesn’t look like dealing.” You muttered softly, pushing the collar of his t-shirt to the side to get a better look at the bruise that it was partially covering. “When is this from?”

“Yesterday. I went home to get some money so I could buy you this.” JJ shifted to reach into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat box. “It’s not much but it’s all I could afford.”

You took the box from him curiously, unlinking your hand from his so that you could pull off the lid. Inside was a small silver necklace, a thin chain with a small circular pendant. When you lifted it up you saw that the pendant had a map of the world etched into it. The necklace was simple and sweet, and you felt a big smile take over your face.

“You didn’t have to get me this, J.” You simpered.

“I told you I wanted to.” He smiled back. You handed the box back to him and turned to face away, and JJ eagerly fastened the chain around your neck. He struggled a little with the tiny clasp, making you giggle. His hands ran over your shoulders before he dropped them, and you turned back to him with the smile gone from your face.

“You went through that just so you could buy this for me?” You murmured. JJ's smile faltered but didn’t fall, and he nodded slightly.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. It’s just what happens.”

You sat silently for a little while, but your peaceful moment was interrupted by a loud round of cheering from inside. You looked over your shoulder towards the house with a groan, but then lightened up when you got an idea.

“You wanna get away from this bullshit?” You asked, gesturing towards the party.

“You wanna leave your own birthday party?” He asked with a chuckle. You shrugged.

“Nobody will notice that I’m gone. I’ll just have to come back at, like, midnight to kick everybody out.”

“Okay, then let’s go.” JJ smiled.

“Alright. Give me one minute.” You giggled, getting up quickly. “Just wait here a sec.”

You ran back into the house and pushed past all of the people to the stairs, heading up to your bedroom. You had kept the door locked to keep out horny couples. You rooted through one of your drawers until you found a set of keys, switched out of your party sandals to a pair of converse, and grabbed your car key off of your vanity before heading back out, making sure to lock your door behind you again.

You paused on the stairs to scan the crowd until you spotted Sarah, and pushed past the bodies towards her.

“Y/N! Where’d you go?” She shouted over the music.

“Just outside. I’m gonna disappear from the party for the bit, can you call me if something major happens?” You asked. Sarah frowned.

“But this is your birthday party.”

“I know it’s weird, but I’ve got some other stuff going on right now and I just need to get away for a bit.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense. I’ll call you if anything happens.” She nodded, though the confusion was still clear on her face.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” You smiled, before heading back out.

JJ was stood at the side of the driveway waiting for you when you came back out, slamming the front door shut after yourself. You grabbed his hand and pulled him after you to your car with a smile.

“Where are we going?” He questioned as you started the engine and began backing out.

“My other house.” You answered.

“Sorry, did you say ‘other house’?”

“My dad’s house. He hasn’t been home in eight months and I haven’t been there in about five, but a cleaner comes by every two weeks to maintain it.” You explained.

“Jesus you’re rich.” JJ mumbled. He had a teasing smile on his face but the comment made you feel a little guilty.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to show off or anything. We don’t have to go to my dad’s if you don't want-"

“Y/N, it’s fine.” He laughed. “You didn’t choose to be born into a rich family the same way I didn’t choose to be born into a poor one.”

“I know, I just don’t want to be... insensitive isn’t the right word. I just don’t want to seem like I take it for granted; I don’t want you think that I’m that kind of person.”

“I don’t.” He assured you. “You don’t treat me like I’m any different for being poor, so I don’t care that you’re rich.”

It wasn’t long until you were pulling into the driveway of your dad’s house. It was grand and expensive looking, but it was still smaller than your mom’s; she had kept the house after the divorce and since your dad wasn’t even home most of the time he’d decided that he didn’t need quote so much space.

The inside was modestly decorated, no elaborate sculptures or outlandish wall decorations like so many of the other houses on Figure Eight. The furniture was very nice, and the few paintings and things that were on the walls were expensive, but your father was a man of simple taste. He didn’t even have any fancy chandeliers.

“I expected something more opulent for the richest man in the Outer Banks.” JJ commented as he looked around.

“Since when was opulent a word in your vocabulary?” You questioned with a giggle. JJ gasped, and pinched you in the side with a frown.

“I’m not completely dumb.” He objected.

You laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him after you into the living room. You flicked on the light before dropping yourself onto the sofa and pulling JJ down with you.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You asked him as you picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

“Uh, I don’t know, action and horror.” He shrugged.

“What kind of horror? Slasher? Psychological? Paranormal?”

“I don’t know.” He chuckled. You gave an exaggerated sigh, going into the horror section on Netflix.

“Fine, I guess I’ll pick.”

You ended up putting on The Blair Witch Project after discovering that JJ had never seen it, and the two of you settled down. You were thankful to be away from the crowded mess of your birthday party and just have a quiet night with JJ.

“But I don’t understand how they managed to make it scary, basically nothing happened.” JJ perplexed after the movie ended.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s genius.” You grinned up at him. Throughout the course of the film you had ended up lying across the sofa with your head resting on his lap. “All of the horror is in the fact that you know that something this out there but you never see it. Modern horror movies could never.”

“That’s crazy bro.” He said, making you laugh. He looked down at you with an amused smile and a sparkle in his eye that made your heart jump.

“Do you wanna stay here for the night?” You offered once your laughter subsided. “I’m sure my dad has some stuff in his closet that you can sleep in.”

“Are you sure? I mean, don’t you have to go home?”

“Nah, my mom and Nicholas are staying at a hotel tonight so that I can have my party so they won’t know that I’m not there.” You shrugged. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’d like to stay.” He smiled. You let out a relieved breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“Cool. I need to go and kick everyone out of my house but we can watch another movie when I get back if you want?”

“Sounds good to me. Do you want me to come with you?”

“Probably best if you don’t, you know, with the whole ‘every Kook on the island is there’ thing.” JJ laughed lightly at that.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He nodded. “Can I have a shower while you’re gone.”

“Sure.” You chuckled as you sat up. “You can use my en suite and I’ll get you something to change into.”

You took him upstairs, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts from one of your dad’s drawers before showing him into your room. It was plainly decorated like the rest of the house, but you had posters and photos tacked up and covering almost every inch of the walls.

“This is nice.” JJ smiled, looking around.

“Don’t go snooping around while I’m gone, a person’s bedroom is their kingdom.”

“I’ll mind my own business.” He agreed with a salute that made you grin.

“And make sure you dry off properly, I don’t want you dripping all over my nice carpet.”

“Jeeze, any more rules?”

“Uh, nope. I think that’s it.” You chirped. “I should be back in, like, half an hour. I’m pretty sure I left some chicken nuggets in the freezer last time I was here, you can have those if you get hungry. Or maybe I’ll get takeout on my way back?”

“Takeout sounds good.” JJ nodded, beaming, and pulled you in for a kiss before you left.

#outer banks #obx #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #jj outer banks #obx jj #obx2 #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x kook!reader

285 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

511 notes · View notes

ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

The Nice One-Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2)

Masterlist

Prompt List

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings

Requested by anonymous: 'I have this idea about Fred Weasley falling in love with Harry’s muggle cousin. a dursley. Maybe y/n and Harry were always really close and she obviously knows all about magic. She’s the only person, Harry actually loved and trusted as a child and that didn’t change when he found out he was wizard so there really close, he sees her as a sister. Maybe he wants to introduce her to ginny because Harry wants her approval. And reader ends up liking Fred, and Fred likes her back.'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader, Harry Potter x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (cousin), Weasley Family x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (platonic), Hermione Granger x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (Platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of neglect/child abuse, lots of fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting back in a plastic chair, I looked out of the huge window of the coffee shop, sighing as I realised it had started to rain. I never minded the rain really, but it had been like this since May, with no sign of a proper English summer in sight. Harry returning to the table with two mugs of tea distracted me, and I smiled as he set them on the table, sitting opposite to me.

“It feels like ages since we did this.” I said, blowing over the top of the tea.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve not called or contacted you in any way recently.” he apologised, casting his eyes down.

“Harry, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” I reassured him.“You’ve been making your life in...well, your world. We’ve all grown up, had to get used to becoming adults and such. Though it is a shame we haven’t seen each other for over a year.”

“Year and a half actually.”

“I wasn’t surprised when you invited me here though. Of course, this is under better circumstances. I’m not having to drag you out of the house to avoid my parents.”

“No, this is much nicer.” he chuckled.“How are they by the way? I was able to see Dudley last month.”

“They’re fine, same as always. I don’t see them as much as I should, though I do call them often. Sometimes it’s hard you know, especially after all that’s happened in the last few years.” I took a sip of tea, finally able to start drinking it.

Harry seemed hesitant to speak again.“Actually, I was wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember me talking to you about a girl called Ginny?”

“Ooh, has my little cousin fallen in love?” I was teasing until I saw the genuine smile on his face.“Wait, Harry, do you really like this girl?”

“W-well...I h-have for a while, we actually told each other our feelings when, when other things turned serious. And it’s been going good between us, really good, which leads me to my question.”

I was confused as to where this was going, but waited for him to carry on.

“I was wondering if you would come meet her?”

“You want me to meet her?” I excitedly repeated.

“Yeah,” he smiled back,“there’s going to be a birthday party for me at her family home. She’s a Weasley.”

“Wait, isn’t that the last name of your friend Ron?”

“It is.”

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?”

“I’ve already talked about it with him! Do you remember I stayed with him over that summer, and I wrote to you from there?”

“The Burrow!”

He nodded.“They’re more than happy to have you there.”

“Of course I’ll come Harry! For now, you have to tell me everything about this Ginny girl.”

The party was two weeks away, and I could not contain my excitement as it got closer and closer. Although Harry had told me much about the wizarding world, he was the only wizard I had ever met (unless I counted that giant man that had tracked us down when Harry first found out he possessed magic, though there weren’t any introductions), and I was extremely excited to meet more of them. Would they constantly be using magic? Would they just conjure up food and drink? And would they be comfortable with me there? I knew that Harry wouldn’t leave me alone unless I was one hundred percent comfortable with everyone.

It was surprising that Harry hadn’t become irritated with me on the day of his party. He was coming to pick me up, and I had greeted him with an over excited tone, setting off a party popper which made strings of confetti land on his head. I had never been able to celebrate Harry’s birthdays publicly, always sneaking into his room or under the cupboard to give him a small present and a hug to wish him happy birthday (once I was earning my own pocket money, or sweetly asking dad for a few pounds, I would buy him cupcakes as a birthday cake, stashing away sweets for him after he saw how much we were given). Dragging him into my flat, I demanded he close his eyes, dashing in and out of the kitchen with a stupid grin on my face. Counting down from three, I giggled as Harry opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me holding a cupcake with a candle in my hands.

"You didn't forget."

"Of course I didn't. Is it...is it alright?" I became worried, wondering if I had brought up bad memories.

"No, no, I actually missed this. It was one of the things I looked forward to each year."

He blew out the candle, sighing when I urged him to close his eyes and make a wish. Harry then pushed me to get a move on, his eyes widening when he saw me pick up two presents with wrapping paper, as well as a smaller one on top. I walked past him before he could say anything about them, handing him the keys to lock up.

As we turned up at the infamous Burrow, I couldn't help but stand back in awe. It was like nothing I had ever seen, and although shabby looking, very put together, it had some sort of charm to it, it was so different to other houses. Harry had already taken a few steps forward, stopping when he noticed me not move.

"(Y/N)?"

My eyes snapped back down to him."Oh, sorry."

"It's going to be fine." he said, coming to stand beside me.

I just nodded, walking next to him and standing back when he knocked on the door. A short woman opened it, squealing with excitement when she saw Harry, and as she dragged him in for a hug, she playfully scolded him for knocking, claiming that he could waltz in whenever. Staying outside, I poked my head in, still holding the presents in my arms. I watched as Harry was engulfed in numerous hugs, everyone wishing him happy birthday as well as joking and laughing with him. It shocked me. The only time I saw him this happy was when I was able to cheer him up as kids (and that was extremely hard to do when he lived in the hell hole I called home), but a sudden wave of emotion attacked me, I was so happy to see him being treated right.

"Everyone, this is my cousin, (Y/N)." Harry interrupted my thoughts once again, gesturing for me to step inside.

Sheepishly walking in, I held onto the presents a little tighter, smiling through the awkwardness. There were so many of them standing there.

"Here, let me take those from you love." a man who seemed to be the dad offered, placing the presents on a nearby table. Now I was out in the open.

"So this is the decent one?" one of the younger lads said to break the silence.

"Ronald Weasley, you mind your manners!" the woman scolded him."Don't mind him dear, it's lovely to meet you. Harry has never stopped talking about you."

"He's right though," Harry said,"this is the nice one."

"It's nice to see that Harry stayed in such a lovely place, and with lovely people."

Really (Y/N)? That's the first thing you come out with?

"Oh what a sweetheart." the woman gushed."Believe me, they look like angels, but they don't act like one."

Harry soon broke us into a general conversation, attempting to introduce me to everyone. This family was so different to mine. It felt more loving, as if they didn't hate to be around each other all the time. They included each other in every conversation, they laughed together, joked around with each other. And they also included me.

We were sat around a long table, squeezed amongst one another with food and drink laid out. I had Harry one side of me, and his old friend Hermione on my other. I believed that she and Ron had romantic connections, but I was hoping she would shed some light on Harry's love life, as Ginny was sat beside him.

"They've only recently become public. Everyone knew that they were together, it was bound to happen. But we all acted surprised anyway." Hermione and I giggled, drowned out by the sound of everyone talking.

"Oh bless him, he seemed very happy when he mentioned her. That's why he invited me actually, he was wondering what I would think about her. They don't seem to be able to keep their eyes off each other."

"Someone else seems to have their eyes on someone." she smirked.

I followed her eye line, seeing one of the twins looking in our direction before averting their gaze. I had remembered that they were each wearing the same jumper but with different colours, thankfully making it easier to tell them apart. It had been Fred looking my way, and I hated that I was blushing already; no one had looked at me like that for a long time.

"I'm sure that was nothing." I mumbled.

"If you say so." I heard Ginny say, making me whip my head round to her. She was leaning forward to look at me, and I saw Harry holding back a laugh.

"Come on, I haven't even spoken to him."

"Maybe you should. Perhaps this was meant to happen."

Molly stopped all chatter across the table, standing up to announce that it was present time. Heaps of presents were pushed down to our end of the table, Harry was shocked by how many there were, but stuck right in. After thanking all of the Weasley’s for their sweet presents, especially Ginny. With my presents left, I felt all eyes on me, nervous as to what they would think of my gifts.

One was a collection of books he read when he was younger (until my brother got angry at him and ripped out the pages), the other was two shirts I knew would look nice on him. The last present was a photo book, which I had had personalised; on the front it said ‘Harry’s Memories’, in a beautiful swirling style of writing. The toothy grin on his face fell slightly, and I began to panic again. Everyone waited for him to open the book, a slight tension in the air. Harry slowly opened the book, reading the message I had left for him in his head. It entailed fond memories we had, and how proud I was of him for setting out to school by himself, and how many times he was brave enough to put himself on the line for his friends and family. Turning the next page, a breathless laugh left his lips when he saw the photos I chose. Unfortunately there weren’t many of us together, or of him in general, but I had raided our old cameras back home to find any photos I had taken of him without my parent’s knowledge. After flipping over another page that turned out to be blank, he looked up at me, as did everyone else.

“It’s blank so that you can fill it. I knew you wouldn’t want memories of home, just...just me I suppose. But I’m sure you’ve got better memories to put in there now.” I shyly explained.

“This is amazing, thank you (Y/N).” Harry said, hugging me tightly.

“The pictures aren’t moving?” Ginny questioned.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“Your pictures move?”

Once dinner was done with, along with a round of singing as the birthday cake came out, we all broke off into smaller groups. This would have given me an opportunity to speak to Ginny, I had a strong feeling that she was absolutely perfect for him, they seemed well matched, but I still wanted a chat at least. However, Harry had stolen her away, and it wasn’t the right time to intervene. As I thought about who to talk to, Fred walked up to me, leaning against the kitchen counter top as I was.

“Thought you looked a little lonely over here.” he said, but it wasn’t in a cocky way, he was being genuinely kind.

“Thanks.” I laughed.

He smiled.“I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

I looked up at him.“No I know what you meant. I was actually thanking you.”

“Ah.”

There was a moment of silence as neither of us were sure what to say next. Suddenly, something popped into my mind,“You know, I’ve seen you before.”

“What?”

“When you came to rescue Harry, in your flying car. I was in my room, but my room was next to Harry’s, so I could just about see you and your brothers.”

“That was so many years ago.”

I nodded.“I just remember how shocked I was when I saw the car, but also how relieved I felt when I saw Harry get in there. I was in trouble for not going to my parents straight away though.”

“You don’t sound like a typical Dursley at all.”

“I suppose I’m not. I was never the favourite, for some reason Dudley was. But I was so focused on keeping Harry somewhat happy that it didn’t matter. I just got good results at school, made friends and kept the biggest secret in the world.”

“It is slightly strange having a Muggle about.”

“How do you think I feel? The dishes are doing themselves over there!” I gestured to the sink where there was a floating plate and sponge. He laughed at that."That would be so useful to have at home, especially after a long day."

"So," he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning towards me,"what do you think about our families combining?"

I took a sip of my drink, following his eye line to Harry and Ginny."I can't express how happy I am for him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm not just saying nice things because Ginny is your sister. Harry had a long talk about what happened in the past, he's mentioned her, well, all of you, a lot. You've all been able to give him much more than I have."

"That's not true. Harry has expressed multiple times how he didn't know what he would have done if you weren't there for him."

"Seems like everything has worked out perfectly in the end. It even feels right me being here."

"I can agree on that."

"Even if I'm a Muggle?"

"Can't say that's the first thing I noticed about you."

My eyes widened slightly, slowly looking down into the content of my cup."Fred, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were flirting with me."

"Thank god you noticed, thought I might have to start using pick up lines."

"You still can if you want to."

"Nah, think I'll save that for a first date."

"If you're asking, then the answer would be a yes."

"Well, glad that's been sorted."

I giggled quietly, trying not to show how much I was enjoying this."Do I get to find out where you're taking me?"

"If I'm honest, I wasn't sure if I would get this far."

We laughed together, catching the attention of his parents who were with Hermione and Ron. We quietened down, finding it hard to hold back on giggling. Before we could even continue speaking, Harry was approaching me, and I knew he wanted to find out what had happened since he left me alone.

"So, uh, what are you two talking about?" Harry failed to play dumb.

I rolled my eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder."OK, whilst you interrogate my date, I'll go talk to your girlfriend. Sound like a deal?"

"D-date?"

"Don't act like you weren't listening. Relax Harry, this is your party after all."

I heard him sigh to Fred as I walked away."You two are going to be trouble, I just know it."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter

1K notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

A Certain Romance (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: mentions to past abusive relationship, nothing too explicit, though

A/N: some emotional bonding✨ enjoy babes

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Bucky presses the little button on the side of his phone knowing the dead battery won’t allow it to turn on. He makes his way up the stairs to your apartment - the elevator is always broken - and hopes you’re home to offer him a charger.

He was getting a few groceries in your area when his phone died, the only place where his list was kept, and had no other choice but to leave and go back later. A curse with technology; a paper list would never run out of battery, he thinks.

He knocks on your door three times and he can hear the low sizzling of something, signaling your presence inside. It takes you a minute to come to the door, though. Longer than the amount of time for you to change your clothes or turn something off, no, it seemed to him like you were waiting to see if he’d leave.

Do you have someone over? Another guy? Are you expecting someone else you don’t want to see? Is it him you don’t want to see? He thinks he’d rather you tell him to his face if that’s the case.

It’s been about a month and a half since you’ve started “dating.” The two of you have started hanging out more frequently, relying less on when Sam asks about what the two of you are doing and going more based on when you genuinely want to see each other. In a friendly manner, of course.

After he knocks a second time is when he hears a quiet shuffling on the other side approach closer and closer to the door. A lock turns and you finally open up, Bucky meeting your slightly puffy and red-tinted eyes.

“Hey.” You sighed before turning around and walking back to the kitchen.

“Hi.” He starts.

You were clearly crying. While Bucky would call the two of you good friends at this point - as well as fake lovers - he’s not sure if he’s in a position to pry about what’s wrong with you. Should he ignore it? Not bring too much attention to your obvious emotions? Bring all the attention to it and try to fix whatever the problem is?

“I, uhh, my phone died and I was in the area, so I wanted to ask if I could borrow a charger?” He starts. Maybe introducing a topic that has nothing to do with whatever is causing you to feel this way will help.

“Coffee table.” Is your curt response.

He takes the minute it takes him to plug his phone into the wall and set it on the coffee table to think of how he can go about this.

“You okay? Actually, don’t answer that - bad question. Clearly you’re not okay…” He tries, quickly shutting himself up when you sigh and slump a bit in front of the stove.

“What are you making?” He slowly walks over to where you are, a pan in front of you on one of the burners.

“Apple and brie mini sandwiches.” You say. More words, same sad tone. Still progress.

“Want me to take over and you can chill out on the couch?” He offers quietly.

“No. I - I want to keep myself busy.”

Progress.

“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”

You let out a shaky breath. His eyes focus on your face as tears gather around the rims of your eyes and you bite down on your bottom lip. A tear drops from your left eye and your hand quickly reaches to brush it away, as though Bucky didn’t already see it.

“Um, can you set up a couple of plates on the table?” You ask, voice strained.

He nods and moves towards your cupboard, setting the table up wordlessly.

The two of you remain silent as he fiddles with the napkins on the table and you finish up browning the bread of the sandwiches. He finally hears the click of the stove turning off and you bring the pan to the table, setting it on top of a piece of cork.

You serve him two sandwiches and yourself one and finally sit down next to him, letting out another sigh.

“I thought I saw my ex today at the market. And it took the entire time I was running back to my apartment in fear to remember that he’s in jail. Four states away.”

He looks over at you and realizes that the look in your eyes he thought was sadness isn't sadness at all. It’s exhaustion. A look he wore himself very often in his days of hiding, days of constantly looking over his shoulder until his worst nightmare came true and he was caught.

Paranoia is something he knows too well and it hurts him to see you suffering from it too. He remembers the brief mention of your ex from your first date together; how he beat the shit out of you. And he imagines he did a lot more than that if it means he’s in prison.

A humorless laugh falls from your lips, “And now I need groceries but I’m too tired and embarrassed to go back. The cashier probably thought I was crazy.” You pick at the crust on the bread with your fingers and Bucky gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“Eat before it gets cold.” You tell him, picking up your own sandwich and taking a bite, Bucky doing the same after another moment of looking at you.

Gooey brie and crisp sliced apples go great with buttery, toasted french bread, Bucky learns.

“Do you want to help me clean the apartment?” You ask him as you follow him to the sink where he washes off the plates and the pan you used.

“... Your apartment is spotless.” He tells you.

“I know. I cleaned it two days ago. But I like to clean when I have bad days, and you’re already here.”

He grabs the sponge and wipes down the stove, glancing over at you.

“I’d be happy to help you clean. Where do you want me to start?”

He planned on getting his own groceries today, but found himself on his knees slipping his arm as far as it can go under your dresser. I’m going to buy her one of those adjustable Swiffers for her birthday this year, he thinks. After collecting all the dust onto the rag, he tosses it into the pile with the few other dirty rags and glances over his shoulder to look at you.

Down the hallway, you wipe down all the frames on the wall one by one. He hears sniffles every once in a while, but keeps cleaning.

“Alright, I got all the low places and all the high places for you.” He walks over to you down the hallway. “What do you have next for me?”

“Nothing, we can stop for a bit.”

He’s gotten better at reading people. Through getting closer with Sam, through therapy, through becoming a more participating citizen in society. And through getting to know you. He can read you, and he can tell you’re holding something back.

“Anything else you wanna do? Anything I can do?”

“What’s your zodiac again? You’re very caring, you know that?”

“I’m a Pisces and you're deflecting.” He steps closer to you now, eyes less puffy from when he first saw you this afternoon, but tiredness radiating through them. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages quieter.

“Can we… cuddle? For a little bit?” You ask.

This is the first time Bucky’s ever seen you look so fragile. Not on that first date where you thought he was going to stand you up or when you told him about your ex. Not when you both discussed your deepest secrets on your couch. Not even earlier when you explained why you’ve been crying today. A timorous woman stands before him, now.

“Absolutely, doll. Where, on the couch? Wherever you want.” He tells you softly, seeing a bit of tension leave your shoulders as you gently bring him to the couch to sit, as though you were expecting him to say no.

He’d always used to make fun of Steve when talking about Peggy. Always teasing him as a brother would when the lovey-dovey talk would come out. But this is the very first time he’s ever understood a single thing he was talking about.

You’ll find someone, and they’ll fit you like a puzzle piece. You’ll mold to each other perfectly, and it’ll scare the hell outta ‘ya.

He’s propped up against the arm rest, one leg straightened out on the couch and the other planted on the floor. His arms are around you as you’re sandwiched between his side and the back of your couch. Your hands rest gently along his stomach, head tucked under his chin. A knee hooks around the leg that’s straightened on the couch, the other stretched on the remaining area of the cushions.

Like a puzzle piece.

You’re warm and you’re making him feel warm, both on the inside and the outside. He feels the way he did when he first pecked Barbara Albram on the mouth in grade school. Or when he first sat on a girl’s bed in her room when he was a teenager.

He feels like he has a crush.

“Do you know what love languages are?” You ask after a few minutes of silence. You’re both warm against each other, no blanket needed in the small space. He can feel your body much more relaxed under his hands and the permanent strain in your throat has disappeared.

“No. Sounds nice.”

“It’s the way you express and experience love, either with a romantic partner, a friend, family, that sort of thing. There’s five.”

“What are they?”

“Words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service, and gifts.”

He hums, an arm absentmindedly trailing up and down your back.

“I’m not sure what mine is.” He says, thinking back to every relationship he’s ever had, both romantic and not.

“You can be a mix of them. I think you like to express love through acts of service. You did just help me clean half the apartment. And when you told me about helping Sam and Sarah with the boat.” You mention.

“What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. But he kind of fucked that up for me, though.” You scoff.

“I used to love holding hands, hugging, kissing. Not just with him, with everyone. I felt like I had so much love to give and now I have nowhere to put it. I wish he didn’t make me like that.” You confess.

“Only you are in control of that. He’s gone. And what he did was terrible. But it’s up to you to reclaim that. If you have a lot of love you want to give, give it. There’s no one that deserves that love in return more than you. You are worthy of all the love in the world.”

He stays with you on the couch until he feels your breathing slow a bit and your body relaxes against his, small snores and heavy breaths leaving your mouth as you finally rest.

He hears a buzz on the table and is reminded of the reason he came over in the first place. He carefully reaches over to the table and is glad that he’s able to reach without moving you around too much. He presses the button on the side to see a now fully-illuminated screen and a charged battery, as well as a text from Sam.

Double date friday night. Bring ur girl. I’m picking the place

He doesn’t let himself be upset at the fact that Sam’s bound to choose a place that requires him to wear a clown suit because he’s too caught up on it being a double date.

He hasn’t been on a double date since when he shipped out for the war. And times were very different then; he was very different. He’d be nervous even if he wasn’t fake dating you and was going with a real girlfriend.

Maybe I can cancel, tell him I’m busy. You know that won’t work though! You’ll reschedule over and over and over again until Sam just shows up out of the blue with his girlfriend, even worse if it’s an occasion where you tell Sam you are with her when you’re not. Bit the bullet, Barnes, it won’t kill you.

He glances down at your sleeping face, calm expression soothing his own nerves now that he’s replied with a text confirming both of your presences.

It’s only a double date, what’s the worst that can happen?

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel #famous last words

159 notes · View notes

melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - chapter 5

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

CW: mentions of PTSD, mentions of alcoholism and past abuse, mentions of past toxic relationship

Taglist @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon

The thick fog that hovered above the ground made the forest seem like the scenery out of a gothic movie. Not that Alastair minded, he felt at home among the trees, in the darkness. He and Thomas had met after breakfast before Lucie or Cordelia had woken. Alastair had always been an early riser and he was glad to see Thomas was too. More than that, though, Alastair was a poor sleeper. He had frequent nightmares and so far he’d found nothing that helped. Not even his stuffed hedgehog, which he was ashamed to admit he still slept with.

‘Look. Over there,’ Thomas pointed, his finger aimed at the ground.

Alastair followed his gaze and saw a small hedgehog, walking along the shrubs. Hedgehogs were nocturnal creatures, he knew, it wasn’t common to see them during the day, even in early morning. It was adorable.

‘Aw. I love hedgehogs, they are my favorite animals,’ Alastair said with a small smile that was rare these days.

‘They suit you,’ Thomas agreed.

‘How exactly?’ Alastair asked.

‘Well, you’re prickly and need to be handled with care or you’ll sting, but when you can look past that you’re actually adorable.’

Thomas’ cheeks flushed a dark red. ‘What I mean is,’ he began, but Alastair interrupted him with a grin.

‘Adorable, huh?’ he said.

‘I guess so,’ Thomas said. ‘Cordelia told me you still sleep with your stuffed animals. She said your favorite is a hedgehog.’

‘Little traitor,’ Alastair said.

‘I sleep with mine too,’ Thomas admitted. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I have several owls. I just sleep more comfortable that way. I need something to hold on to.’

He was surprised Thomas didn’t judge him. He felt his father would have, had he known, but he’d been too drunk to notice.

Alastair’s smile returned. ‘Now that is adorable. To tell you the truth, I keep mine around to protect me from nightmares.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Does that work?’

‘Not really. But at least holding onto something helps me relax enough to fall asleep.’

He could lie awake at night sometimes. Lately, Alastair was always tired. He did what was expected of him during the day, but he never felt rested or energetic. Even after a long night sleep with minimal nightmares, he woke tired and staying in bed didn’t help.

They talked about all sorts of topics, history, books they read, what Alastair’s first year at university had been like. Thomas told him about previous summers, which they’d usually spent in Spain. He’d spent enough time there to be fluent in Spanish now, partially because his parents had studied there and his father liked to speak Spanish at home. Alastair was surprised how easy conversing with Thomas was. He’d always struggled with making small talk, with keeping the conversation going, but Thomas didn’t shy away from more serious topics and seemed genuinely interested in what Alastair had to say.

He and Thomas continued their walk, and Alastair could tell something was bothering Thomas. He was tense, his shoulders a bit hunched. Alastair had learnt to sense when people were anxious or tense and tended to get nervous himself whenever that happened. He wondered if he’d always been hypersensitive to other people’s moods, or if he’d learnt after having to anticipate his father’s moods and then Charles’ for such a long time. He narrated a description of his surroundings to himself in an attempt to ground him in reality, to calm down enough that he could help and support Thomas. He felt useless, what was the point in being able to read people if their anxiety bothered him so much?

‘Are you alright?’ Alastair asked after a silence.

‘Why do you ask?’ Thomas asked, his voice uneven.

‘Because you seem anxious about something. Is it about me? Are you still mad about what happened at school?’

Alastair had always been more tolerant around Thomas himself, but he’d treated Thomas’ friends awfully. All he felt right now was a horrible guilt and regret for what he’d done. For how he’d justified his actions, telling himself that it was better than being bullied, that what he did wasn’t as bad as what other students had done to him. All empty excuses, and it had never been alright.

‘It’s not about you,’ Thomas said. ‘And I’m not mad. I can’t say I understand why you did it, but I know you were going through some difficult times. Besides, it happened so long ago. James and Matthew are still upset, I think. But they’re not here. I don’t think Matthew would like it much here anyway. He prefers to spend his holidays shopping and drinking at bars until late night.’

Alastair tensed a bit when Thomas’ mentioned Matthew’s drinking the way he always did when alcohol was mentioned. Once he’d been able to take care of his drunk father with little emotion, pushing everything to the bottom until he was sure his father was alright and Cordelia wouldn’t discover he wasn’t ill. Nowadays even mentions of alcohol or drinking tended to make him feel sick, as if an invisible hand was clutching at his stomach, at his heart. Just breathe, he told himself.

‘Oh shit, I’m sorry,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not supposed to mention alcohol around you, am I?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I take it everyone knows, then?’

Alastair still found it difficult when people knew about his disorder. It was difficult to ask for adjustments, to admit a weakness and ask people to not drink in his presence, to ask people to change their own behavior for his sake. He knew most people wouldn’t be willing to do that, and he’d much rather not ask and pretend everything was fine. But eventually he’d had to admit to himself he just couldn’t handle being around people drinking and alcohol was so normalized in Britain it was difficult to avoid sometimes.

‘Not the particulars,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But Mr. Herondale warned us that we shouldn’t drink, nor discuss alcohol when you’re there.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alastair said. ‘As long as I don’t see you drink, or smell it on you, it’s fine.’

People talking about alcohol could be difficult, but he could manage. He would. Matthew Fairchild was across the sea, and him drinking alcohol didn’t harm Alastair. It wasn’t his problem.

‘You don’t seem fine.’

‘It’s not easy, but it’s alright. I can handle mentions of drinking,’ Alastair said.

He hated how some people who knew about his diagnosis had started to walk on eggshells around him, like he was a bomb that would explode the moment someone said something wrong. It made him feel like he was fragile, broken, like there was something horribly wrong with him, when Alastair desperately tried to convince himself that wasn’t true. Deep down, he knew it was true though. He knew there was something wrong with him and that he wasn’t normal and would never be.

‘You don’t have to,’ Thomas said. ‘Look, I don’t think you want to talk about it and you don’t have to. But if you want to talk… I’m here for you, alright? I can promise I am a good listener.’

Alastair nodded. ‘You still haven’t told me what’s bothering you,’ he said in an attempt to deflect.

Alastair took a sip out of the flask of water he’d taken to carrying with him. Ever since starting paroxetine, he often had a dry mouth. He’d also gained some weight. Risa in particular was very happy with that development. Before starting his medication he’d been underweight, often unable to eat because of his nerves. Aunt Risa had worried about his weight loss, and had been very happy when he had started eating again and gotten back at a normal weight.

Apart from that no side effects, and Alastair was mostly glad his medication didn’t cause any sexual dysfunction because he’d heard that happened sometimes. Even if he didn’t have a boyfriend now, he guessed he wanted one someday. He tried to ignore the voice in his head, reminding him that no one would want to be his boyfriend, that he wasn’t worth the effort. Charles had often told him he was difficult to love, that other people wouldn’t bother, and Alastair had believed him. Part of him still did.

The effect taking antidepressants had was only partial, paroxetine on its own wasn’t enough to treat PTSD, but when it came to this specific disorder it was the most effective out of all antidepressants. Alastair had agreed to give it a try. Two months in, it was definitely better than nothing and he had more good days, but he hoped the EMDR treatment he would be starting after the summer was more effective.

‘It’s something that happened yesterday,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I’m not sure I should tell you.’

‘You can trust me to keep your secret,’ Alastair promised. ‘But you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.’

‘You know your cousin Jem used to fight the evil creatures of the supernatural, right?’ Thomas asked. ‘And your father too, before…’

Before he’d started drinking. People who knew about his father’s past as a hero sometimes said it was the price he’d had to pay, for seeing so many horrors and fighting for so long. Alastair hated it, it made him want to scream. What about the price I had to pay?

It was what had set him off when Jem had come over for dinner, not aware that anything was wrong with him. His cousin had talked about the struggles of life as a hero, the effects it could have on someone. Later, Alastair had learned his mother had become so desperate she’d confessed Elias’ addiction to Jem and had asked him if he could convince him to seek treatment.

Jem had agreed, and had used Elias’ past heroism as a gentle way to bring up the problem, but Alastair had felt as if Jem was trying to justify his father’s addiction and by extension what he’d put his family through. He’d screamed at Jem, at his father, at everyone present really. What about the people surrounding such a person? What about the people who were hurt when a hero’s burden became too much, did they not matter? Horrified at his own outburst, Alastair had ran to his room and attempted to calm himself by putting on Metallica and turning up the volume until he could block everything else out. When Jem had come upstairs, Alastair had expected him to be angry. Instead, Jem had been worried. It was the first time someone had realized his moodiness wasn’t just a “turbulent adolescence”, as his parents had long thought.

‘Yes,’ Alastair said. ‘When I was younger, my father would tell me stories about the creatures he’d fought and defeated.’

Once he’d loved listening to his father’s stories. Once he had sat down in his father’s lap and asked him to tell him about the incubus in Greece, or the kelpie in Scotland. Now he only wondered if his father had been drinking already back then. He wasn’t sure when it had gotten out of hand.

‘Well, I can see them. What I mean is, I have gift that makes it so I can see anything without having to learn at all. My mother and my oldest sister Barbara have the same gift.’

Alastair nodded. ‘So does my aunt Risa,’ he said. ‘She taught me and Cordelia how to see.’

There had been times in his life where he’d felt like Risa was the only person who cared about him. He hadn’t dared tell her about his father’s alcoholism, desperate to keep his family together and in one piece, but she’d been there when he needed her. No one else had done that for him. She used to take him to see the gnomes play in parks, since she didn’t have a garden of her own. She used to cook and bake in her kitchen with him. Risa was a cook in a local Iranian restaurant and had taught him everything she knew about making good food.

‘Yesterday, I walked into the woods and I encountered the washing woman. They say seeing her is an omen of death, although in my case it could just be that she didn’t intend for me to see her, but with my gift I see her anyway.’

‘I’ve heard of such creatures,’ Alastair said. ‘You must not approach or they might attack and paralyze your legs. But if you can sneak up on them, they are said to grant a wish.’

Alastair thought not so long ago he would have given it a try if he’d seen such a woman. He might have asked her to fix his family, or at least fix his father’s alcoholism. Nowadays, he wasn’t sure what he’d ask for. Fixing his father’s alcoholism wouldn’t cure his PTSD, it wouldn’t allow him to love or trust his father again, wouldn’t erase the past years. Perhaps he would ask for a cure for his PTSD, but he didn’t think such a thing existed, he wasn’t sure what exactly the result of such a wish would be. Nor did he know who his father would be without his addiction. He did not think his father would love him sober either. The best he could hope for was that EMDR treatment would help him.

‘Well, I ran,’ Thomas said. ‘But not before it called out to me. Warning me about some unpaid debt from my grandfather who made all sorts of deals with dangerous creatures.’

Alastair had heard plenty of stories like that from his father. There were all kinds of creatures that generally left humanity alone, but could trick people into making deals with them. It usually ended badly, and sometimes required intervention.

Alastair tried to think, was Thomas in danger? He’d always known about the supernatural, of course, but preferred to stay away from it. Cordelia was the one who had been given their father’s magical sword, and although Alastair hated the idea of her living the kind of life Father used to live, it suited her more than it suited Alastair.

‘From what I learnt, deals with supernatural entities often go wrong,’ Alastair said. ‘Is your grandfather still alive?’

Thomas shook his head. ‘I never knew him. Apparently he turned into a giant worm and uncle Will, uncle Jem and uncle Gabriel had to kill him. My parents are trying to look into it a bit more, but it’s difficult since my aunt has all his journals, his possessions, and isn’t willing to share. According to my father, his mother died as a result of his dealings, and my cousin Jesse might have too.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to think. He had heard some vague stories of the Lightwoods and Herondales who used to fight dangerous creatures, but had no idea a relative had made such deals. Of course, he didn’t think his father had been involved in this. His cousin Jem had carried cortana for one of two years before retiring and giving it back to Elias.

‘I think something might be after me,’ Thomas added. ‘I was often sick as a child, and so was Jesse. No one could figure out what was wrong with me.’

Alastair frowned. ‘I don’t remember you being sick often when we went to the same school. You were always there, trailing behind me, I would have noticed if you were absent often.’

‘I grew over my sickness when I was almost fourteen, we met soon after that,’ Thomas said. ‘I always kind of took it for granted, since no one could tell me what was wrong with me I figured it was normal I’d grow over it eventually. But I got better around the same time Jesse died, and then my aunt Tatiana, Jesse’s mother, came by our house and yelled at my parents that it should have been me.’

Alastair frowned. ‘And you think that means that your cousin dying had to do with your grandfather’s debt?’

‘My aunt believed it, at least.’

‘But what does that have to do with you getting better?’ Alastair asked, not sure if he could make sense of that theory.

‘Well, both Jesse and I were sick. I didn’t know him well, Tatiana kept him away from us, but he did know Lucie and she told me his symptoms were almost exactly the same as mine.’

‘And it’s not a genetic disorder?’ Alastair asked.

‘No one else in the family was sick, just me and Jesse,’ Thomas continued. ‘I got tested for pretty much everything they could think of, all negative. They couldn’t find out what was wrong with Jesse either. My grandmother already died as payment for what my grandfather did. So it’s not that farfetched that Benedict owed them a grandchild or something and they had to choose between me and Jesse. Except Jesse’s death wasn’t enough, and now some creature came to warn me I’m next.’ Thomas looked resigned. ‘I think I’m going to die.’

Alastair took Thomas’ hand, hoping that would not be too forward. ‘You’re not going to die,’ he said. ‘I have never heard of debts being passed on to next generations, or going on for so long. From what I’ve been told, it usually ends when the person who made the deal dies.’

‘Not in this case,’ Thomas said. ‘Jesse got lost in the woods where he lived and died. People searched, but no one could find him until he was already dead.’

Alastair could tell Thomas was getting more and more anxious and Alastair wasn’t sure how to help him. He couldn’t say for sure that was Thomas was saying was wrong, even if he still tried to think of more mundane explanations for what was happening.

‘But getting lost in the woods is not supernatural, is it? If we strayed off the path here, it could be a while until we found our way out.’

‘Yes, but the woods where he got lost weren’t big like here. Realistically, they should have found him much sooner. That’s weird, unless there was magic involved. It wasn’t particularly cold either, it happened during spring.’

Alastair had to admit that was odd. Not all forests were big enough to get lost in and die. Even here, he suspected if they didn’t make it back, people would raise alarm soon enough and find them long before they could die of natural causes. Of course, their chances of surviving a couple of days might be better than those of a twelve year old boy.

‘Could the entity that claimed Jesse’s life have picked him over you because you have the sight?’ Alastair speculated. ‘That’s something you inherited from your mother, isn’t it? Jesse didn’t have that.’

‘It is,’ Thomas confirmed. ‘No one in my father’s family has it. It feels kind of awful, doesn’t it? That I lived and got better because Jesse died?’

‘That’s just speculation,’ Alastair said sharply. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over things we can’t prove. But there is something we could do to gather more information.’

‘Beyond convincing my aunt to give us those journals?’ Thomas asked.

‘So, I haven’t done this with someone else in a very long time. Perhaps it’s best I show you.’

Alastair chose a neutral memory. He had considered a happy one, but he didn’t think he’d be comfortable sharing any of that with Thomas, not yet. Besides, he didn’t have many happy memories. It had to be nice, with his ability, to have infinite happy memories he could revisit at any time. Instead, Alastair mainly got caught in the bad ones. He picked a memory from a lecture on the history of socialism. Alastair remembered being horrified at some of the comments other students had made, only later had he realized Charles probably agreed with them. But that wasn’t the point right now. Instead, he showed Thomas a bit of the start of the lecture. The professor was animated, talking about the subject like it was the most interesting thing ever.

‘Was this at university?’ Thomas asked when they were back in the woods. ‘What did you just do?’

‘I showed you a memory of mine. Not a particularly interesting one, but it gets the point across. I can revisit any of my memories.’

‘That must make it easy to study for exams,’ Thomas said, but it wasn’t accusatory. Alastair sometimes felt like using his ability was cheating, but what was the point of having a magic memory if you didn’t even use it?

‘I do need to remember where the information I need is. So if I don’t remember the answer to an exam question, but do remember which lecture it was discussed, or which book, I can go back there. Fortunately, I am also good at studying and usually know where to look.’

Alastair had a whole library inside his head. At home, he kept a list of every book he ever read to organize it.

‘But how will that help?’ Thomas asked. ‘Is there anything you remember?’

Alastair’s dark eyes gleamed. ‘No, not related to what’s happening to you. But you have your memories. Perhaps your parents remember things, details they didn’t think were important at the time. I can help you rewatch your own memories, help you recall things you might have forgotten. It is something that I do not usually do, as it feels rather invasive. But if it helps save your life, I’m willing to give it a try.’

Thomas nodded. ‘Yes, of course. You can look in my memories all you like if that’ll save me.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #fic #the last hours #tlh #tsc

26 notes · View notes

ushiwakatrash · 3 years

Text

On your knees, King! (Part 3)

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Fantasy AU

!Warnings!: Swearing, betrayal, lil dash of angst, shitty writing, abuse, physical harm

Synopsis:

Bakugou is the esteemed King of the Kingdom of Barbarians and because he succeeded in ruling the lands that were once governed by the Yuuei Kingdom, an offering must be made for the peace of the people. As the so-called ‘black sheep’ of the royal family, the King of Yuuei a.k.a. your father, offered you–naming you the most precious thing he could give; but you know the truth behind his words.

PART III

← Part 2 Part 4 →

Things started to get hectic in both the Yuuei and Barbarian kingdoms for only a few weeks were left until the wedding. Seeing the decorations being put up only meant a reminder for both Shoto and (Y/n) that it was real, it was happening-- but it was happening too fast for them to comprehend.

The princess was in a daze during her meal time with the only family she had left, her father. Ever since her mother passed away, things turned into hell. Before fully agreeing to give their daughter away, the queen stood her ground in protest and resisted the King’s order.

Blinded by rage, he threatened his wife with a sword but still, her gaze was firm and decision never wavered. The last string of patience the king had snapped and he swung his sword towards the woman, slicing her deep from the chest to her abdomen.

In his state of shock, he stood there, hands shaking. His lover was no more and all because of the stupid Barbaric king, all because of his useless daughter, he lost more then just his kingdom. He had lost his wife.

It took a long while for the king to come to terms with the thought of his diseased lover but he channeled all his pain into making another’s life miserable.

Out of everyone, he had to choose his poor daughter, who he had blamed for everything.

“(Y/n)! I expect you to be on your best behavior and for once not be a failure to this family. Am I clear?” A tired nod was all she could answer. The king quietly stood up from his seat and hastily made it to (Y/n)’s side. A loud smack resounded in the room.

“I am a king here and I expect you to treat me like one, you useless bitch! When I ask you a question, answer me properly!” This was the king nobody from outside knew about. Only the people inside the palace knew about the true nature of this ‘kind’ king.

“Yes, your majesty. I have made a mistake.” The old man just scoffed and retreated to his room, leaving his daughter alone to dine. Because she is the Princess of the commoners, people from the palace were often enraged to see her being treated poorly by the only real family she had.

With no words being said, a cloth with cool water was handed to her by one of her most trusted maids, Ochako. “Milady, it is to avoid swelling.” (Y/n) gratefully took it and dabbed it over the reddening spot on her cheek.

“Now that my father is away and in his quarters, won’t you maids join me for my meal? Let’s leave some for the guards standing in the doorway as well.” This occurrence happened frequently. They knew it was no bribe from the princess, but pure genuine kindness. She was a far better ruler than her damn father.

“But ma’am...” the princess slouched in her seat to get comfortable “Oh come on, we’ve been doing this for quite some time now! I don’t wanna eat alone” she unleashed her puppy eyes and the maids couldn’t refuse any longer.

Her hand maid ushered the rest of the servants in the room to take their seats and they joyfully shared stories over the table. See, (Y/n) was really interested in the commoner life not to compare to her own, but to get to know the ways of her people.

This is why even if the king treats her badly, the servants in the palace would never turn against her and if they had to take sides, they would all go to princess’ aide.

“Milady, how are things with your fiancé?” the bold maid named Mina asked. “M-Mina?! You can’t just ask things like that!” The head maid Momo scolded. “No it’s okay Momo, guys you’re my friends just drop the Milady shit and call me (Y/n)”

Mina gave a victory smile to Momo and the the latter just sighed. “I haven’t met him yet in all honesty, but I think we’re going to their castle in a few days, or maybe tomorrow. I didn’t really listen to what that stupid old fart told me”

They held their laughter at the nickname the king’s daughter had for him. “I hope even if he is one of those Barbaric bastards, he treats you fairly” Ochako had a sad smile on her face. The princess already had enough of her father’s torturing so having a bad husband would only continue her hell.

“In all honesty, I thought you would be wed to Prince Shoto. You were such a good match! I’m sure you would be happy with him” “Yes, Jiro that was the plan but it seems that fate had decided to push us apart. I’m sure I would have been happy but I’m not closing my doors to the thought of the new King as a husband. Maybe he can entertain me.”

“You can hunt together or maybe go on horse rides to lakes to watch the sunset!” (Y/n) knew this was too good to be true. Her soon to be husband was a brute, it would be weird if he was indeed that romantic. “Hah. I doubt he even has a romantic bone in his body. Anyway, I’ll be leaving first, girls. Ochako would you be a dear and please prepare my bath after you’re done eating. Do not worry, you can take your time and rest. Goodnight to all of you.”

“Sure thing princess!” “May you rest well.” “Nighty, (Y/n)”!”

“Oi hag, what kind of woman is she anyway? If it’s just some pissy girl I’d rather decapitate her family.” The older blonde smacked hiS HEAD. “Watch that stupid mouth of your brat! I’m sure she’s the perfect match for you. When has your mother been wrong?” The former queen smirked.

“She better not be weak. I don’t want my reputation to plummet because of some woman. I’m leaving with Kirishima to go hunt!” “Bring me a fat boar while you’re at it!”

Kirishima flew freely in the skies with Bakugou sitting snug on his back. At the same time, (Y/n) went to the woods after eating to let off some steam. Every time she thinks about her stupid father, rage fills her head. Nothing was her fault so why was she treated so badly.

The special spot (Y/n) and the friend who gave her necklace was her safe place. It was also the best spot to hunt boars, pigeons and if you’re lucky, deers.

She brought a bow and a sword with her and began to position herself to be hidden from her preys. Her sharp gaze caught a healthy fat boar in sight and the same time her arrow hit, a blade fell from the sky.

“Who’s the fuck did this to my fucking boar?!” A big gust of wind blew and standing before her was a huge red dragon, scales as red and as shiny as rubies.

“That’s my boar fuckface! Look for your own!” A blonde muscular man hopped off the dragon’s back. The Princess had put her cloak on to seal her identify, the man had a hood on too but his muscles were out for the world to see.

“You deaf, boy?! If you weren’t flying so high, you could have seen that my arrow had already pierced it before your dull blade could. Hands off my catch!” The man pulled the sword out of the boar and pointed it at the princess.

“No way, it’s mine! If you want it, fight for it!” (Y/n) wasted no time as she unsheathed her own weapon from it’s scabbard and went in for an attack. The blonde was surprised at the sudden movement of the woman but blocked her sword nonetheless.

“You got spunk woman, but can you even handle my strength?” “Hah please, I can take you on any day, dandelion!” Their sparring took quite a while and Kirishima just sat at the back with a slight worried look on his face.

The girl took notice of the dragon’s structure and thought maybe it was hungry, but in fact Kirishima was just getting bored. When she managed to push her opponent back a little, she ran towards the boar and threw it at the dragon.

“Here boy, catch!” the smell of meat made Kirishima quickly respond and at the end of the duel, it was the red dragon who immersed victorious.

(Y/n) laughed at the face the man made when their loot was snagged by the dragon. “Oi Kirishima! Why’d you eat it?!” The dragon just huffed in response. The girl went close to the dragon to try to pet it and because of the treat given by her, Kirishima bent his head to get the pats he loved.

She then directed her attention to the male with a huge scowl on his face. Digging through her pouch, she handed him a loaf of bread and cheese. “Here, take it. I enjoyed our spar. I would have loved to ask for your name and to spar another time, but I think it’s impossible now.” she smiled sadly.

The blonde on the other hand only got curious “Why?” “I’m getting married soon. I can’t just hang around guys freely.” The sun was starting to set and people may have started to look for her in the palace.

“It’s time for me to go. If we see each other again, let’s exchange names, dandelion. I hope you can take me to the skies some time Kirishima! Have a safe journey home”

She didn’t wait for their response as she fled the scene quickly.

Taglist: @the-sander-fander @cathwritestragediesnotsins @emilymikado @itsmysticalmystery

Taglist is open!

114 notes · View notes

ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 24

Chapter Selection

"What do we have so far?", Aaron asked the team when we gathered together.

"Right now we know that he wants to get back at me for getting rid of his kid, he doesn't like Aaron for being with me. Mark's the both of us. I also don't think that he's going to kill Jack, he wants something that reminds him of me and Jack is the closest thing.

I think he's going to try and raise him as his own. He's young enough that he'd forget who we are." I motion between Aaron and I.

"Where would he take Jack", we all looked back at each other. "Mark's obsessed so he'd wanna take him somewhere with significance, so where would that be?"

"Our house? It's where I left him, he abused me... cut me. But last I checked there were people living there, he wouldn't have access." Garcia dipped her head to face her computer and began typing.

"The address?" Garcia asked me. "46 winter avenue."

"That address was occupied but two months ago the people that bought it vacated the property and never came back."

"Mark could've taken him there." Morgan stated and everyone was waiting for Hotch's okay to go to the address. He nodded off; Morgan and Emily left to scope it out.

"Garcia I know you've already checked but go over the feed again to see if you missed anything", Reid told Garcia.

When they left the rest of us stayed and went over any other information, Aaron was sitting with his head in his hands; he got a call. "Hello?", once I heard the voice on the other side I knew who it was. "Aaron do you have anything on our son?"

He let out a deep sigh, "Nothing yet but we're still working, we'll get him back", I heard her voice break and scoff. "You better hope, and you better be doing everything you can or I swear."

I get that Hayley's his mom but she seems a little distant. Jack has been gone for a few days now and she has only come in to check on the progress once since then. Usually parents try to stay as close as they can to the investigation and for the most part never leave the station.

Instead Hayley's calling; every time she does her behavior doesn't sound genuine.

Now that could be because I can't actually profile as she's over the phone but still. I can't shake the feeling that she knows more than she's letting on.

"I know it doesn't make sense but bare with me, I think Hayley's in on it. It was something about her voice when she was talking with Hotch, she didn't sound genuine." Rossi spoke up, "When she found out about Jack's disappearance that reaction was genuine from what I could tell."

"Maybe but when she stood up she said something that make me suspect her, 'This is your fault, you and your fucking ex husband.' I've never told her about him... ever."

"I don't know about that y/n", Aaron said to me. Reid stood up and was walking around the room trying to think, "Actually y/n has a point, think about it Hayley loves Jack and she'd try and do anything to keep him safe. If Hayley thinks y/n is a threat to Jack then it makes sense."

"Add that with me taking over the mother role in his life come on Aaron."

"Ok but before we do anything I wanna be sure, Rossi and Reid follow her and if she goes anywhere near that house- take her in." They walk out the room after getting Hayley's location from Garcia.

"Sir- the videos on a loop", Aarons eyes shot up at hers. "What do you mean?", Pan turned the computer towards us and showed us.

"It's a loop for a few hours, he's doing the same thing everyday. You see that glitch right... there." We both nodded. "That's the end of the loop and it restarted, I don't know how I didn't see it before."

I was lost in my mind, the video was a loop, it was a way of distracting us. We thought he was safe, that we had time to save him. He could be dead; we didn't know where he really was. But then again Mark wouldn't do that to a child, maybe the video loop was a way to fuck with us... I don't know.

"Come on", Aaron tugged on my arm and I followed him. "What is it?" we walked into the elevator going to the bottom floor. "I just wanna get away from that, they're doing everything they can, we were just sitting there."

We went outside, it was a little chilly. Aaron wrapped his arm with mine keeping me close to him. Going down the sidewalk; further and further away from the office. We ended up in a more secluded area.

"I wanted to wait to do this honestly, but seeing as somehow our lives are just falling apart around us things just keep going wrong... I- want to have a grip on something in my life. Something that I can control and nothing can touch." He stopped walking and I turned around to face him.

"I had a whole plan, a surprise one that I know you would've loved but- I needed Jack for that." He dropped his head and steadied himself and gazed back at me. "I love you and that's why I want to take the opportunity now... while I still have you."

Aaron reached out and held my hips bringing me closer to him. I cupped his cheek and kissed him deeply. My hand in his hair, pulling him closer. He pressed his forehead to mine and exhaled.

I looked at him in his eyes as he stared at me, "Will you marry me." I was taken back but internally I was ecstatic. No words were needed as I jumped into his arms, the first time either of us were happy since Jack was taken.

He held me up gripping my thighs, my arms went around his neck. I kissed his passionately and lovingly. He raised his eyebrows as if he was asking 'is that a yes?' I nodded and he pulled me into another kiss. We stayed there for a few minutes enjoying the moment till reality set in.

He put me down and we were holding hands, smiling the whole way back. We were gone for an hour never answering our phones.

We got back to the office walking through the bullpen to find Garcia pacing the round table room. Before we walked in she could be head throughout the bullpen, "Where the hell aren't they answ- guys get in here." Pen saw us through the window.

Aaron and I walked into the room, "Hayley's there."

"Like, there? At the address?" Garcia nodded and Aaron and I sprinted towards the elevator going straight for the parking lot.

The drive took forever even though it seemed that Aaron was speeding through the streets. We parked a few blocks away, I called Morgan and Emily. They were in front of the building they moved after Hayley went inside.

We approached them, "All of them are in there." I called back up and the cops surrounded the building and covered the rooftop with some snipers. Rossi and Reid moved to the back entrance with some of the officers covering behind them.

"We have eyes", one of the snipers said through the mic. they had eyes all of them further confirming they were inside.

Aaron stepped inside first, me behind him with Morgan and Emily trailing behind. I went ahead because Mark needed to see me first, I didn't want him to feel intimidated. I approached the door when everyone was ready.

I saw Mark at the table with Jack across from him; Hayley was in the kitchen. When Mark saw me, the vest, and the gun he moved with speed and grabbed Jack. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at his chest; while my sights were trained on Mark.

Hayley reacted just as fast seeing him with a gun at Jack she aimed at Mark. Aaron came in behind me and aimed at Hayley. Rossi, Reid, Morgan, and Emily all were split between the two. All Aaron could think about was why Hayley helped, though we knew why; he wanted to hear the words come from her.

"Why?" Aaron was talking directly to Hayley. She napped he head to the side looking at him then quickly back at Mark, "Because he had our son, y/n wanted to take him from me and this was my way of being close to him... he's all I've got left." A tear fell from Hayley's eyes dripping onto the floor.

"Mark you don't wanna do this." He glanced at me but kept looking around at the people around him. "I have too, you left me okay. I fucked up, I know that."

"But why take his son?" He answered back quickly. "Because you took mine from me, our child."

"I don't even know if it was yours." He looked right at me and his eyes were brimming, "Are you telling you don't remember... after all the pain you caused. Do you not think about it? I sure as hell do; they way you took him."

I knew what he was talking about, I had forgotten about it... one of my most painful memories. It used to haunt me even though it wasn't my fault. Something that sadly naturally happens. Is this why he started changing? All the abuse- Mark blamed me for it.

"It's been a while." Mark took notice of the change in behavior towards Aaron and he cocked his head to the side, "You haven't told him have you?" I shook my head.

"Tell him", Aaron glanced at me but never tearing his focus from Hayley. I really didn't want to but he had a gun to Jack. Everyone around me, the officers and the team all witnessing what's unfolding before them.

"I was- uh pregnant before... with him. I had a miscarriage within the weeks of finding out we were having a child. Do you blame me?" This time I was talking to Mark staring him down.

"How can I not, what's that now... two children you've taken. I’m about to take one from you."

Everything felt like it was in slow motion as Mark raised the gun to Jack's head. Hayley shot Mark in the abdomen while Aaron shot Hayley in the head; she collapsed to the floor.

Mark's gun went off hitting the floor almost hitting Jack.

When his body hit the floor I holstered my gun and ran over to Jack, picking him up in my arms. I watched the life drain from Mark's eyes; the paramedics not getting there in time. As for Hayley she was dead before she hit the floor, the blood running from the hole in her head pooling around her.

I covered Jacks eyes and walked out of the room. Taking him outside to the ambulance that just arrived. I sat with him as they made sure he was ok. I was in shock; blanking from what just occurred. Mark was dead... Hayley was dead.

The paramedic was done with Jack and he had crawled onto my lap, clinging onto me. I held him close not wanting to let me go. I thought if I did I'd lose him again. I watched Aaron walk outside and lean against the building, he was shedding tears for his son's mom.

I stood up with Jack and made my way over, when he saw me coming closer he was quick to dry up his face. Jack pulled his head from off my shoulder and he leaped into his dad's arms. Aaron relaxed as soon as he was holding him.

I visibly saw the weight being lifted off his shoulders. "You want to go home?", Jack nodded excitedly ready to sleep in his own bed. We finished at the scene and headed home, I put the key in the lock of the front door and Jack ran to his room. I called out, "Jack you're going to need a shower."

I heard a faint okay and he shuffled into the bathroom. I went into the bedroom going into the closet. I pulled Aarons shirt over me and I felt arms wrap around me. I put my hand on one of his and leaned my head back, "You okay?"

I felt him nod. I knew he wasn't; he just killed his ex wife, Jack's mom is dead. I don't even know if Jack can comprehend what happened earlier, he's only 5.

Holding onto his hand I brought him into the kitchen, "Cooking always makes you batter." He shrugged and shook his head. "Come on, I'll help. What do you want to make?", he never answered just pulling out ingredients; I figured it out quickly.

I tried to lighten the mood, so I turned on some music. We were waiting for the food the cook and I grabbed his hand and turned him to face me. His hand automatically met my waist knowing what to do.

I tried my best to reach over his head and twirled him which just resulted in him teasing me.

"Here I'll make it easier for you", he said while giggling and crouching down to my height. I wasn't short but he was so goddamn tall. "Heyy", I playfully hit his arm. Jack ran into the kitchen and saw us dancing.

I broke away from Aaron and held my hand out for Jack. He took it and we were dancing to the music blasting in the living room. I picked him up by his arms and twirled in a circle. The smile on his face brought me so much happiness. I thought that earlier we could've lost him.

While Aaron finished the dinner he glanced at us, he was still upset but seeing that it didn't seem to affect Jack made it easier. He set up the table; Jack and I rushed to the table, slightly out of breath. "When do I get to see mommy?", that's what both of us were afraid of. We were thankful he didn't comprehend what occurred but also now we have to explain to him that his mom is gone.

Eventually we'd have to tell him what actually happened; he should know and that's definitely not going to be a fun conversation. I turned to face him, "Buddy your mom is going to be gone for a while okay." He looked at Aaron with confusion written on his face.

"So when is she coming back?", Aaron visibly tensed.

"She's not going to, your mom wants to but she can't." He let out a quiet ok and started to eat. I looked back at Aaron and the room filled with silence. The only thing said during dinner was Jack asking when he can go back to school and see his friends.

We finished eating and I was cleaning the table while Aaron put Jack to bed. Instead of just cleaning the table I ended up washing the dishes, counter, and sweeping. I cleaned when I'm anxious which wasn't so bad because who wouldn't want to have a clean house.

I'd finish tomorrow, it was too late to actually get everything I wanted down. But it was a decent surprise for Aaron after he put Jack down. "Did you clean?", I looked up from dusting the shelves.

"Maybe...", He smirked and walked over to me wrapping his arms around me. He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, "Thank you... not just for this." He gestured to the house and he continued, "But also telling Jack about Hayley; I couldn't bring myself to do it."

I placed my hands on his, "You're welcome." He took my hand in his, turned off all the lights, and we headed towards the bedroom. Aaron pulled his shirt over his head exposing his toned body. I caught myself staring and I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth.

When I walked back into the room Aaron had thrown off his pants and was under the covers. I crawled into bed and Aaron pulled me to him. His chest pressing against my back. His head resting just behind mine; I could feel his breath on my neck.

It sent chills down my spine. He mumbled a goodnight, I hummed in response.

__________________

@marie1115 @appleblossoms-posts @wanniiieeee @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @mac99martin @oreogutz @errorcosplay67 @aberrant-annie

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron #ssa hotchner #fanfic #aaron hotch fanfiction #fanfiction #reader x aaron+hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic

23 notes · View notes

theonetheycallhannah · 3 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 16: Sit Rep

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, various other original supporting/secondary characters (This includes Sy’s Army Buddies of varying rank as follows: Kevin Kaufmann, Nate Banning, Chad Randall, Matt Styles, Jake Ryburn, and Travis Hodges. I apologize if I’ve mixed up their names anywhere. I just gave them last names and sometimes rank so they could be called something other than their first names for sake of variety! lol!)

Summary: Sy meets up with his Army buddies and they are eager to help.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, firearms, implication of abuse and violence

Author’s Note: Guys, we are getting closer! Our couple will be back together soon! I can’t wait and I know most of you feel the same! I hope the strike team members aren’t too muddled and confusing. If they are, I’m very open to your feedback and suggestions on how to clarify and improve! Thank you to everyone, long time readers, and new fans picked up along the way! I cherish you all, and would never have gotten this far in the story if it wasn’t for each and every one of you! I hope you enjoy the 16th chapter (18th installment…remember when I thought this would just be a few chapters of fluff with a smutty conclusion? Lol!) of The treatment of Captain Syverson.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy sat in his truck in the parking lot of Cade's. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was here. The altercations with Elliott, both inside the bar and outside, the friendships he'd started to build with the other fellas in Shane's work group, the simple way Shane pulled off the elegance of minimalism with her wardrobe and makeup, the ride home…and the night of lovemaking that followed. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have agreed to come tonight. He was gonna leave. His right hand reached for the keys in the ignition, a firm grip ready to set the engine roaring again, when he was startled by a rap at his window.

Tap-tappa-tap-tap his friend Kevin had just rhythmically knocked with one knuckle on the window. He was smiling and waving exuberantly, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

Sy's scowl softened into a sheepish grin and he knocked back tap-tap.

Kevin waited near Sy's front fender while he got out of his truck.

"How ya doin' Kevin?" he greeted his old friend warmly.

"Alright, I s'pose! You?"

"Oh…I'm makin' it, I guess. What are you up to these days? Still workin' at the plant?" Kevin had worked for the 3M factory over in Lebanon, Missouri since his last tour. Sy knew if he just got him talking about his life, Sy wouldn't have to give him details about his own, which he was going to avoid like the plague, if he could tonight.

"Yup, I actually just got a promotion. I'm a line manager now." And Sy could barely congratulate him before he started delving into the details as the two men walked into Cade's.

It was already busy, even for a Friday night. But the rest of the guys had already claimed a table between the dart boards and the pool tables, and were working on a couple of pitchers of beer. The two were welcomed warmly and only slightly teased about walking in together.

With the group finally assembled, they began taking turns giving report on their lives. It began with Kevin, who, having already begun with Sy, continued with a brief recap for the others. Sy exhaled with relief when Matt, who was seated on the other side of Kevin piped up to speak next, having recently proposed to his long time girlfriend. They were going to get to him last, if at all. He listened as well as he could as he battled the troubled thoughts in his head by bombarding them with beer. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Nate, who'd organized the gathering, had been observing his behavior with curiosity, and a measure of concern. He didn't let Jake finish talking about his latest dalliance into what they were all sure was a pyramid scheme disguised as direct sales. Even though Jake insisted it was not.

"Well, I'm curious as to why Sy's been so tight-lipped all evening. What's on your mind, Captain?"

"Nothin' Nate. Just enjoying a few beers with old friends." Sy lied, not convincing anyone at the table, least of all Nate, who had been one of his closest friends while they were stationed together.

"If I wanted to hear bullshit, I'd have let Jake keep talking about the Duraplex scam."

"It's not a scam, guys, it's real supplements for busy people!" Jake defended.

"Can it, Hodges. We aren't buying it, and we aren't signing up to sell it, either." Nate focused again on Sy. "Come on, man. You told me on the phone you had a lot going on. What is it? Female troubles?" He snickered, as did the other guys.

Sy looked into his glass, through the foam and into the honey liquid below it with a rueful grin. "In a sense."

He took a huge drink of the beer, five gulps, nearly emptying it, fortifying himself to speak.

"My girlfriend is missing." Everyone froze in position as they processed this.

Half a dozen questions hit his ears at once. Which he could have handled if he hadn't had almost a full pitcher by himself.

He shut them down, and began to tell them the story of how he met Shane and their sort of whirlwind romance. He paused for a moment to pour himself another beer.

"Never heard you talk about a woman like that, Sy." His friend Chad piped up.

"Never felt this way before, man. She's…she's the one."

"You said she was missing, though?" Nate asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sy continued, talking about their argument, reconciliation, and then his leaving for training, ending his briefing with the phone call he got from Shane's boss.

"That's fucked up, man." Matt said. "What are you gonna do about it?" His worry seemed genuine, as well, as if he was putting himself in Sy's shoes. Sy assumed because he had been in love with Tonya, his now fiancé since they were in high school, even though she didn't come around on him until he came home on leave one holiday weekend.

"I've already gone to the police with my statement and an idea for a prime suspect."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Brad Randall, who was a Sergeant for the Rolla Police Department, inquired.

"I personally have no doubts that she was kidnapped, and I am a hun'ert percent certain it was her shithead ex."

"And you don't think she's just…ghosted you?" Brad prompted. The thought put a painful tightness in Sy's chest, but it passed quickly. He knew she wouldn't do that. And not just to him.

"No way, man. She left her phone. She didn't tell work. She didn't even tell her parents. Shane takes her phone with her from room to room. She's glued to it. She'd never do that to her coworkers, who are practically family, and she'd certainly tell her parents if she was going to leave town for any amount of time. It's just…not her. I know her."

"And who's this ex? What's his deal? Why is he on the short list of suspects?"

"He IS the list, Brad. He was abusive when they were together. And a cheater. And a liar. And he tried to jump me right outside just a few weeks back. Ask Candace. She was behind the bar when he started getting in Shane's face up there. And I'd bet she saw what happened out in the parking lot, too." He gestured to the sporty blonde bartender with a high ponytail and a Cardinal's jersey when he mentioned her, and then pointed toward the windows looking out onto the dozen or more vehicles parked outside.

"Can we do anything?" Kevin asked, clamping a hand on Sy's shoulder.

"Nothin'. But I appreciate the offer, brother." And he returned the contact with a clap to the other man's shoulder.

Nate and Brad exchanged pointed looks, and Nate countered Sy's rejection.

"I wouldn't say THAT, Sy."

"What do you mean?" Sy looked at Nate as if he was pedaling snake oil…or Jake's supplements.

"I think…that we CAN do something. To help you find Shane."

"We all have military experience, and some of us have connections that could be very useful." Added Brad. "I'm on the Force. I can handle getting intel on the guy."

"I'm in to help with transpo." Matt Styles raised his hand to offer up the vehicles in his transportation service, Rydes with Styles. Sy hated when words were misspelled for the sake of gimmicks…but he had to give Matt credit for that one.

"And Travis and I still work at the base. We can arrange gear." Jake added as Travis nodded.

"And whatever else you need, I'm in too." Kevin concluded.

"No way, guys. You can't stick your necks out for me like that. I won't have it."

"Sy…You know I talked to Lopez after that last mission the two of you were on?" Travis met Sy's eye as he spoke. "He said you had your team carry out Kominski's body. And that you took on most of, and then all of his bodyweight, just so Freeman could cover everyone. Said you were hurt, yourself, but helped him, carried him, to your extraction point. Up several flights of stairs."

Sy had no response other than a blank stare. It seemed to say all it needed to, because Travis continued.

"Lopez is alive and the Kominski girls got to say a proper goodbye to David. Plus, that mission WAS a success because you got the target. I know it's still classified, but…I think we all know the significance of what you did by leading that mission. You didn't leave a man, living or dead, behind."

"And we aren't gonna let your girl get left behind, either. We're gonna take that sonofabitch out. Because what do we do?" Nate declared, ending with the call Sy had always used at the end of his mission briefs.

The whole table, including a reluctant Sy, recited “We embrace the darkness and the suffering.”

“And why do we do it?” Nate continued.

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace." Sy looked around the table at all of these men he had served with, fought with, watched comrades fall with, and fought against tyranny with. He thought most of them could have come up with their own story about his role in their military time, but the mission Travis was talking about outlined what he figured was the most significant sacrifice he had ever made for a teammate.

"Well…I guess we need to come up with a plan, then." Sy smiled and finished off the beer in his glass before laying it out for the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy had given them all missions tailored to their own strengths and connections. Brad would gather all the info he could on Elliott. Matt would reserve vehicles. Jake and Travis would procure tactical gear for the team, and Nate…Nate would provide weapons. Pistols and blades. Ammo. Holsters. Even flash grenades and smoke bombs.

Cade's was too public to talk about their plans, so Sy told everyone to rendezvous at his house the very next afternoon. They sat around the patio table on his back deck while they waited for everyone to arrive. Jake was late.

"Well, I guess 'direct sales' waits for no man, and we can't wait for Ryburn anymore. Styles, report?" Sy commenced the meeting.

"I have three Suburbans that are only a couple years old. They're black, discreet, and all glass is tinted within an inch of it's life. Even the license plate covers. I'll make sure they're fueled and ready." Matt stated.

"Aces. Richardson?" Travis spoke up next.

"Yeah, Jake had to go in for a late shift last night after we met, but I talked to him. He's gonna get vests for everyone, eyewear, comms, the whole works. All rated for Black Ops. He told me a bit ago he was following up on a lead and was hoping it would pan out. Said he had a hunch." Travis shrugged, not certain what his friend was up to, but not that concerned.

"Sounds good. Randall?"

"I made up some dossiers for everyone that includes everything I could find on Thomas. He doesn't have a ton of priors. Mostly drunk and disorderly's that were thrown out, because he got the right representation and the wrong judge. He must have someone backing him, because I have no job on file for him. No employer has run a background on him in ten years. Last known address is from six years ago, when he filed a change of address from an apartment in the Cottage Hills complex to…407 Oak Street."

"That's Shane's address." Sy interjected. "He must not have changed it since she kicked him out."

"It seems so. But it's so weird. I don't see any credit cards, online orders, not even a Netflix account on the guy. He's totally fallen off the grid since Shane. I did get into some social media accounts, but he hasn't posted to anything in the last 18 months."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was posting hot and heavy about this girl, Kara Hutch. 37. Lives over in Waynesville. But his last Facebook status just says, 'What a waste.' and 'feeling betrayed' and that was in February of last year."

"Hmm, do you think--" Sy was interrupted by the unexpectedly loud and abrupt sound of his front door flying open and Aika, with them on the deck, barking like they were about to be murdered. She was ready to kill whatever came through next. The men, all of them battle hardened veterans sporting conceal and carry permits, were out of their seats and in defensive stances in a fraction of a second. Aiming at an unseen enemy. A figure approached in the shadow of Sy's kitchen, arms raised and slowing as it saw several barrels aimed for its head and chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, guys it's me! It's Jake! Stand down!"

"Are you FUCKING INSANE, Corporal!?" Sy asked, reverting to Captain mode. "You just snuck up on and burst in on a group of soldiers. Do you comprehend how close you came to looking more like Swiss Cheese than a man, Ryburn?!" Sy scolded, fire in him rising, but more out of an angry concern for the friend they nearly shot.

"Sorry, sir, err, Sy. I was focused on getting here for my report." Jake said, out of breath.

"Travis already told us about the gear, Ryburn. You didn't need to bust in like that." Nate berated.

"Oh, guys. What I've got is way better than night vision devices. I might have an address for our guy."

"How in seven hells did YOU get an address?" Brad exclaimed, pride wounded as intel was his task.

"I know, dude, that was on you, but…I overheard a conversation when I was doing some work on equipment in the Air Traffic Control tower."

"What could you have possibly overheard in ATC?" Sy was incredulous.

"Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to keep screaming at me?"

Sy called Aika off and let Jake onto the deck, but the German Shepherd was still eyeing the corporal with marked skepticism.

"So I kept hearing this controller talking to the other girl at her station. She kept talking about her boyfriend…whose name was Elliott." Eyebrows went up all around the table. "Yeah, and he fit the description in every way. Physical appearance, textbook narcissism, the works. I went to the personnel office when I got done with the service call and told the attendant that the girl had helped me with my gear and I wanted to send her an email to thank her. She gave me a contact sheet on Sasha King. I looked her up on my lunchbreak, and found some photos of her with a guy I think might be Elliott." Jake showed Sy an image he'd saved to his phone. "Is this him?"

"Yup, that's the guy." Sy's blood was boiling again at the smiles on the couple's faces. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve a pretty girlfriend. He should die alone, starving for the love he deprived others. "You say you got an address?"

"Yeah, the gal in personnel printed me a full demo sheet. The only thing we don't have is a social." Sy noted the redacted 9-digit code in one corner of the document Jake had handed him. He read out loud. 3502 Highway D. St. Robert, MO.

"You boys feel up to a little recon tonight?" They all nodded, excitedly, patting Jake on the back, and high fiving him in congratulations on the invaluable find. Even Brad commended him on his detective skills and told him he'd have a job on the Force with him if he ever wanted a change. The corporal almost blushed.

The men went back into the house and through the front door to the driveway where they were all parked.

"Jake, you brought all the gear, too?"

"Sure did, Sy. There's vests, belts, NVDs and helmets to mount. There's plenty for everyone." Jake opened the back of his Jeep as if it were a buffet of delicious tactical equipment. Sy found among the gear a large case and opened it out of curiosity. A sound amplifier with headphones. That was going with him, as it appeared there was only one.

"I'll outfit everyone with guns and ammo later. But here are some tac knives, and three of each diversionary devices for each member of the team." Nate passed out packs with the blades, smoke grenades, and flash bombs.

"Okay, rendezvous at Matt's shop at 1800. We'll go over some procedures for the evening and get set up with the rest of our weaponry then. Okay?" General nods of ascent and "mmhmms" in confirmation of the plan came from the men. Sy continued, "Maybe get some rest between now and then. I don't know how long this is going to take."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy got to Matt's a little early. 1730. Nate showed up about ten minutes later and pulled in next to Sy, leaving the rear doors accessible to arm the team. The men got out of their vehicles and began double checking Nate's inventory.

"Nervous?" Nate said after exchanging the usual pleasantries.

"I didn't think I was. But just now, I got to thinking about what that…monster is doing to the love of my life. What he's putting her through, if he's even let her live. What are we going to come across when we get to this place?"

"You can't think like that. She's not Schrödinger's cat. You have to be positive here. This mission depends on your strength as a leader. You're gonna do great. And Shane is gonna be fine. We all will. Have a little faith, man." Nate patted Sy on the back in encouragement. Sy appreciated it. But he thought he might have to compartmentalize, instead. Think of this as just another mission. Forget that Shane was involved. Even if it wasn't healthy, it might at least be helpful.

Matt arrived soon after and waved at the two men as he pulled in on the other side of Nate. He got out and greeted his friends, all of them shooting the breeze and enfolding the others into the conversation as they got there. Kevin was the last to arrive, just before 1800, when the briefing commenced.

"So," Sy began, more timidly than was his usual way. "First, guys, I wanna say, I appreciate y'all so much for doing this. For putting in the time and the resources to help me and Shane. I owe y'all more than I can repay, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Within reason." He grinned and his friends chuckled.

"Now, we've got the comms set up. We'll be in each other's ears, so we can report in real time. I've looked up an aerial view of the farm on Google Earth, and there should be good cover for surveillance with the sound equipment and NVDs. I'll take point, Nate, you and Matt are with me. Kevin, you and Brad will flank the property on the left, Travis and Jake are going right. I'm hoping this will just be recon, but if I get wind of something I don't like, I may call for the strike. You guys will report anything you think looks fishy, and I will make that call with the intel I'm given. Now. When and if I make that call, we're gonna aim for disorientation and soft incapacitation. If you don't have to kill, don't. I don't know how much help this bastard has, but I know it would have taken several to take down Shane. It's not that I think any of them deserve to be spared, but…I don't want us to break up any families. We don't need the weight on our already heavy souls." War had changed them all, and Sy didn't want to make any more widows. "We good?"

Nods of approval from the men made Sy think he was looking at a military bobble head collection. He stifled a smile.

"Alright, lets get armed and ready, then Matt can take us to our chariots."

They were all mostly suited up, black or dark colors were the general uniform. They were ready for whatever might happen. As Nate handed out guns and ammo, the men examined their clips, loaded their guns, and put them in their holsters until needed…they hoped they wouldn't be.

When they were all set, they followed Matt to the huge garage he kept his fleet in.

Although, "garage" didn't quite do the building justice. It was actually an airplane hangar that Matt got for a good price when the local airline went under. He'd made a loft in it with a ramp so there was extra room for smaller vehicles like his town cars. The limos, SUVs, and the stretch Hummer were on the lower level. He had a separate space outside for the two party busses and the RV, protected from the elements by large carports.

Matt went to grab keys from the lock box as the men gathered near the Suburbans. Sy was getting angsty. Moment of truth was here.

"Okay," Matt jingled two sets of keys in his hands. "Who's driving?"

Kevin deferred to Brad without contest, but Jake and Travis were bickering over the question between them.

"Grow up or get married already." Sy chided. "Jake, you got the good intel for us yesterday. You drive."

Travis was mildly crestfallen, but Jake was stoked and he caught the keyring Matt tossed him.

"You wanna drive, Captain?" Matt offered Sy the last set of keys.

"No, Matt. You're driving our group. I'll take shotgun though."

And the seven men got into the vehicles as if they were mounting horses, headed into the sunset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the comms on the way, Sy addressed the team. "Okay, there's a large outbuilding near the road, guys. Pull off the driveway and park behind that structure. Hopefully they'll hide the vehicles from the main house. Bravo and Charlie teams, you let Alpha team get in place before you take your positions."

"Roger that, Captain." Kevin said in the headset.

"We copy." Travis answered for himself and Jake.

The first phase of the mission went perfectly. Sy, Nate, and Matt were in position, and Sy had set up the sound amplifier, aiming it at the house, headphones on. When the other teams were in position, Matt reported to Sy, since he was getting feedback using the earpiece and the headphones for the amp at the same time.

"Bravo and Charlie teams are in place, Captain."

"Great. Sit Rep?"

"All's quiet so far. Wait. Headlights coming up the drive." Each team tried to make themselves as small and low as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence. Sy had been getting nothing but crime show drivel from the TV in the house since he got here.

A petite but curvy brunette got out of the white Honda Civic and stomped into the house.

"Hey babe." Elliott's unmistakable voice rang in Sy's ear. And he was filled to bursting with rage all over again.

"What the fuck, Elliott? I've been trying to call you for hours! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, I was charging my phone in the bedroom. What's going on?"

"That Captain Syverson your little pet was banging? I found out today that he's back in town. Has been for a few days."

"Shit. Shit!!! SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, so…if he isn't already, it won't be long before he starts trying to find her."

"But…how could he? Even if he thought it was me, I have no official ties to this place, or even you!"

"Flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, but I'd get rid of her ASAP. This guy is NOT someone you wanna piss off, Elliott."

"I'll bring the guys in. We'll take care of it. Tonight."

Sy cussed in a loud whisper. He wanted to rip Elliott apart with his bare hands. Nate asked him what was wrong, but Sy held up a hand for him to remain quiet because he heard the scumbag inside on the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, change of plans, we need to do this tonight. Get everyone out here. Yes, immediately. There's a…potential complication. We need to take care of her before it becomes more. Yeah, she's weak, but I'm still gonna wait until you guys get here. She's still got some fight in her. She about took Jackson's eye out yesterday when he was down there. He's got some wicked scratches on his face. I think he made her regret it, though." Elliott laughed with evil mirth. Sy was furious. He reckoned God Himself might have a time pulling him off that degenerate before he made him unrecognizable as a human man. Once he started punching him, he might not be able to stop.

When Elliott signed off, Sy pulled the earphones down onto his neck. He looked at Matt and Nate.

"He's planning something with Shane and has called in reinforcements. It sounds like he means to take her somewhere else, and it didn't sound like it was gonna be pretty. I think we need to go in now."

"Shit. Okay." Matt responded. Sy put his earpiece in and called on the rest of the team.

"Bravo and Charlie, do you copy?"

"Bravo copies." Kevin reported back.

"Charlie copies. Go ahead, Alpha." Travis cleared.

"Listen, boys. We need to go in, and we need to make it quick. Here’s the situation. We have one male and one female assailant inside the domicile, and an undetermined number of additional combatants en route to reinforce the enemy's line. We have one target. A female prisoner, presumably in the basement, given verbiage used in the communication I intercepted. Alpha team will make our priority extraction. Bravo, you will subdue the male assailant and then maintain sentry position on the lookout for more unfriendlies. Charlie team, you will clear the second level of the house and subdue the female combatant. She is a soldier, so proceed with extreme caution. Once the area is secure, drivers, go and retrieve the vehicles. We are gonna need to get out of here quick, or else things might go tits up. I'm concerned we'll lose the advantage of numbers if we wait too long. Are we clear?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader."

"Roger. On your count, cap."

Sy took a deep breath. Thought to himself "Shane. I'm on my way, baby!" He saw red, then. And called for the charge, out of the darkness, and into the farmhouse. To an uncertain outcome.

Up Next: Chapter 17-Gait Training

#Sand Castle #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill x ofc

90 notes · View notes

kiirokero · 3 years

Text

My Hope (JHS)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Lil bit of Fluff, Mutual Pining, (old?)Best Friends to lovers

Word Count: 2,870

Summary: You were only trying to forget the love you knew you could never have, but now you were trapped in a hell. You’ve had enough and you find yourself at the doorstep of the one who you truly loved, soaking wet and broken.

Warnings: Mentions of a domestic abusive relationship, verbal, emotional, light physical abuse (bruising), manipulation, gaslighting (kinda?), yelling, degradation (and not the smexy kind), light panicking, abusive isolation, just a lot of horrible shit.

Note: PLEASE don’t read if the warning topics are triggering for you.

Cold. That's all I could feel right now. My hands like icicles as the unforgiving frost of the city bit at the tips of my ears and nose. Was I really doing the right thing? My legs aching as I continued my journey to the only place I could turn to. He said he'd change. He always said that. Every time. Maybe this time will be different. How many times has it been? 5? 10? I've lost count, but I was stuck.

1... 2... 3... I counted my steps to keep my mind off of the situation that plagued it. It was his fault, right? It wasn't mine? Would he have acted like that if it was anybody else? He's always been jealous. Insecure. Reassurance a constant sound coming from my vocal cords, only because I didn’t want to do the alternative.

18... 19... 20... Am I walking too slow? I should be there by now. Am I lost? Will I succumb to the cold in an alleyway all by myself? My feet like the stone statues that stood in the middle of the city. Their empty stares the only thing to keep me company. The patter of rain the only music filling my ears. Lonely. I was always so lonely. Even when the arms of the person I falsely gave my heart to were wrapped around my ever dying body.

50... 51... 52... What happened to me? I used to be so happy. My smile a genuine painting on my face rather than a mask constantly in my hand. I used to have friends, family; I used to have him...A piece of me was taken away with every hateful word spat at me. I was no better than the cold stone men. The fire in my soul reduced to a pathetic ember. My glowing skin diminished into scratchy leather. My will to keep going now nothing more than a scrap of paper. Burnt. Torn. Crumpled.

87... 88... 89... I had to do it. I couldn't take it anymore. My life had been ripped away from me. He trapped me in a hellscape with false promises of love. Lured me in with a chance to forget. To forget about him. Happiness... I wanted it back. I want my friends back. I wanted my family back. My hobbies, my freedom, him.

I wanted Hoseok back.

"Who was that?" My boyfriend, Hajoon, snapped as I closed the door. "The new neighbor..." I faltered. Hajoon just scoffed and stood up. Walking towards me as my heart rate spiked. Not again. "Oh really? And what did he want?" He taunted, annoyance written all over his face. "H-he just wanted to introduce himself..." I stuttered. "Why are you stuttering? I swear you'd never survive without me. You're so pathetic." He huffed as he harshly grabbed my chin, making me look at him. "Don't talk to him again, got it?" I nodded and he let go. "You love me and you'd never leave me. Right Y/N?" He questioned. "Right... I'd never leave you..."

"Hobi! How's the tour going!" I exclaimed, happy to get a call from my best friend. "Y/N! It's going well! It's been a blast performing and meeting Army's." He chirped. Hajoon was out, meaning that I could talk to Hoseok without worry. Hajoon never liked Hoseok. Whenever I would mention my beloved best friend, he would get angry. He would yell and me tell me I shouldn't talk to him. I didn't listen though, Hoseok has been with me through everything. I could never drop him. Never. "Why haven't you been visiting more, Y/N? We miss you!" Hoseok asked, a hint of sadness laced in his voice. "Ah, I would but... Hajoon doesn't like when I go out without him..." I hesitated. "Y/n... Hajoon doesn't own you. You can do things without his approval. You're an adult, okay?" Hoseok stated. "I know, but..." I froze as I heard the door open.

"I-I gotta go, I'll talk to you when I can..." I panicked, hanging up the phone before Hoseok could say anything. "Y/n? Who are you talking to?" Hajoon called out. "M-my mom!" I called back, tears stinging my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "She just wanted to check up on me..." I quickly deleted my call history, leaving a call from my mom earlier today at the top. I knew that if Hajoon didn't believe me, he'd look at my call history. The last time I lied about who I was talking to, he yelled at me for hours. Hajoon walked into our shared bedroom staring coldly at me. "What did you guys talk about?" He asked. "She was just asking how my life is... telling me how they are..." I mumbled. "What did you say?" He commanded me to tell him. "I- I said I was fine..." Hajoon nodded, satisfied, and laid down on the bed, beckoning me into his arms.

I complied, curling up next to him, my head in his chest. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew how he was treating me was wrong. He feared getting caught. Scared I'd run away. Slipping from his grasp. He was insecure. He needed someone to control in order to feel that he had power. Why did it have to be me? "I love you." He mumbled. I hesitated, not wanting to say those sacred words, but my mind when back to what happened every time I didn't say it back. 'I give you everything, yet you're so ungrateful?' 'You just take and take, don't you?' 'You'd have nothing without me!' 'You need me.'

"I- I love you too..."

"Where the hell we're you?!" I winced at the sound of my yelling boyfriend. "I was out with friends... I told you last night that they wanted to go see a movie with me..." I mumbled. Fear and anxiety already coursing through my body. "And I thought I told you that I didn't want you to go?!" He screamed. Hoseok's words ran through my mind 'You're an adult'. That's the only reason I could pick myself up and go out. "I..." I stumbled out, "I'm an adult... I can make my own decisions..." The room was silent. I looked up to see Hajoon looking at me with an unreadable expression.

"Oh, really?" He said in a monotone manner, scaring me even more. He wasn't yelling anymore, but I could tell he was mad, he was really mad. He started stepping towards me, causing me to back up, hitting my back against the empty living room wall. "Really?" He said again, this time in a more spiteful tone. He harshly grabbed my wrist, squeezing it tight. I cried out at the sudden pain. "You're an adult? You don't act like it. You're like a child leeching off of me, ungratefully taking everything from me, yet you want to say you're an adult?!" My eyes were watering and my heart rammed against my ribcage, I could hear the sound in my ears. "You made me quit my job... So I wouldn't have my own money..." I whispered. But he heard it, and he squeezed my wrist even tighter. "I do this because I love you." He stated. But I've had it, I've had enough. "No! No, you don't! You don't love me! This isn't love!"

I struggled in his grip, managing to get free as I bolted for the door. I had to get out of there. I burst the door open and ran down the street. Ignoring the yells that came from behind me. I just kept running and running. Rain roughly hitting my face, mixing with the salty tears slipping from my eyes.

I looked down at my bruising wrist, the sight not new to me. The bruise was like a bracelet to me now. An accessory I would wear to remind me I made him mad, and he went too far. I curled my knees against my chest, cold and wet, shivering in front of my best friend's door. I took my phone out of my pocket. 9 pm. When I got home it was 7, was I really running for that long?

Hoseok's place was a 30-minute drive from mine, but walking/running was a different story. The twists and turns of the city streets adding on extra time to my commute. I didn't want to call him. It was Sunday night. Every Sunday night, Hoseok would go to BigHit's dance studio and practice more by himself, starting at 6 and ending at 8. Then the long drive back home. That was his Sunday routine. I didn't want to bother him. His dancing was important to him, and he loved it. I didn't want to ruin his night by interrupting him. I didn't want to be a bother.

Irrational fears ran through my head, torturing me. Did I have any right to be here? Would he be mad at me? Why would he be mad at me? Please don't be mad at me. I can't handle it. I can't handle the yelling, the screaming. I can't handle the hate, the fake love. I couldn't handle being trapped. A dying bird in a rusty cage. I wanted freedom, craved it. Tonight, I finally got it. Now I just needed the warm, comforting arms and the smooth voice of my best friend to tell me everything is going to be okay.

"Y-Y/n?" I looked up at the sound of my name and saw a worried-looking Hoseok, still dressed in workout clothes and a duffle bag in hand. As soon as I saw his face, tears spilled out of my eyes, "Hobi?" I hiccuped. He wasted no time rushing to me, kneeling in front of me, holding me close. "Y/n, you're soaking wet! What happened?" I couldn't answer him as I choked out tears. Hoseok could tell I was too hysterical to give him an answer, so he picked me up and walked inside his apartment.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I need you to calm down, Y/n. Can you do that for me?" Hoseok comforted me as brought me to the bathroom and sat me on the side of the tub. I nodded my head and Hoseok ran me through a breathing exercise. It didn’t calm me down entirely, but at least I could speak now. Hoseok kneeled in front of me and held one of my hands as the other one worked on wiping my tears away. "I'm sorry..." I whispered. "No, Y/n, I don't what to hear any of that. You have nothing to be sorry for." Hoseok stated, "But, what happened?"

"Hajoon... Hajoon happened." I said, his name like tar in my mouth. Hoseok's face contorted in disgust. "I knew it..." He whispered to himself. I could see the mental battle he was having in his head plastered on his face. It read guilt and regret. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom. He soon returned with a black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, handing them to me. "Go ahead and change, I don't want my sunshine to get sick." My heart skipped a beat at the old nickname he always used for me.

Sunshine. He's been calling me that since forever. But when I got in a relationship with Hajoon, he stopped out of respect, since sunshine sounded so loving to Hajoon. I forgot just how much I missed it. Hajoon was never that loving to me, Hoseok treated me better than him from the start. Loving Hoseok scared me. He had a dream. He was a star and I was a nobody compared to him. I was scared I wasn't good enough for him. So when the puppy love between me and Hajoon started, I took it as an opportunity to keep me from impeding Hoseok and his dream. But it backfired, it backfired so badly.

I stepped out of the bathroom, walking to the living room that seemed like a distant memory now. I remembered when I would practically spend days straight at Hoseok's house, even if he had work, it was my second home until Hajoon ripped that away from me. He told me that it was unfaithful to spend so much time at Hoseok’s, and not wanting to hurt his feelings, I listened to him. I was so stupid. Hoseok walked out the kitchen, dressed in lounge clothes, leftover takeout in hand as he motioned for me to sit down. I complied silently. We said nothing to each other, but we didn't have to. We didn't need to fill the silence with conversation just yet. We just needed each other.

Hoseok set the food down on the table in front of us and sat down, grabbing pieces of food with a pair of chopsticks and feeding me. The loving gesture almost made me sob. After he deemed I was fed well, he wrapped his arms securely around me, holding me tight. Afraid that if he were to let go, someone would take me away from him again. "You can talk when you're ready." He whispered to me, petting my hair lovingly. I did just that. I talked and talked. Going on and on about how Hajoon would treat me, how he would yell and scream, how he would lash out than apologize afterward, promising to change. I told him how he didn't like me hanging out with my friends or visiting family. If I went out, he had to go with me. If I was on the phone, he had to know who was on the other side. If he told me he loved me, I had to say it back, or things wouldn't be pretty. "How long has this been going on?" Hoseok asked. "A couple months after we got together... It started out small, but then it spiraled. Before I knew it, I was trapped in a loveless relationship, too scared to run." I shivered as I sunk into Hoseok's arms even more.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been there," Hoseok whispered.

"It's okay Hobi, just... hold me."

"Why didn't you call me? You shouldn't have walked all the way over here."

"I knew you were practicing."

"Y/n," He breathed, "I'd drop anything for you."

"I know how important your job is to you Hobi..."

"You're more important."

Silence engulfed us again, Hoseok gently rocking me back and forth. Loving Hoseok was scary, but I wouldn't hold myself back anymore. I wouldn't dance around the issue. I couldn't deny what my heart wanted and what it wanted all along. Last time I did, Hajoon reduced me to a scrap of myself.

Hajoon would hug me, but they weren’t like Hoseok’s. Hajoon would hold me, but it wasn’t like Hoseok. Hajoon said he loved me, but he wasn’t Hoseok. He was never Hoseok. He could never be Hoseok.

"I didn't love him." I sniffled. "I never did. He wasn't the person I wanted, Hobi."

"Who did you want...?" Hoseok hesitated.

"I wanted my hope..." I choked out, tears threatening to fall again.

Hoseok held me tighter. A stray tear fell on the top of my head, telling me he needed to hear that. That single tear told me so much. He regretted not being there for me through this. He felt like it was his fault. If only he knew, things would be different. If only he told me he loved me, this would've never happened.

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Hoseok croaked out, sniffling.

"I was just scared of what he would to do me..." I winced.

"Did he hurt you?" Hoseok asked.

I stayed silent. He pulled away to look me in the eye, his own tears glistening under the light.

"Sunshine. Did he hurt you?" He pressed.

I couldn't resist him whenever he called me that, so I just silently nodded.

"Where?"

I showed him my wrist. The purple splotches wrapping around it reminding me of the invisible handcuffs Hajoon had me in for so long. "He's disgusting..." He scoffed, gently taking my wrist in his hands, examining the deep bruises. I unconsciously flinched, earning a look of sadness from Hoseok, more tears falling from his face. "Was this the first time?" I shook my head, causing Hoseok to take a deep breath. "Tomorrow, we'll go get your things and bring them here. I'll deal with him." I looked up at the man in front of me. Instead of his somber look, his face showed a mad one. Hoseok was always scary when mad. The aura that radiated off of him was a threatening one. "I don't want to go back there, Hobi..." I mumbled. Hoseok slowly put a hand on my cheek and stroked my cheekbone with his thumb. His moves were slow and gentle, not wanting to scare me. "Don't worry, he won't be there when we go."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He'll be rotting in a cell."

"...Jail?"

"He committed a crime, Y/n," He stated.

"...Thank you Hobi. I missed you..."

"I missed you too, sunshine. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you..."

"I love you..." I squeezed him tighter.

"I love you too, sunshine."

26 notes · View notes

aurorafluffbutt · 3 years

Text

Normally, Karamatsu was good at keeping his cool in situations that made him really nervous or scared. He would stay calm and collected, ready to take whatever it was on with everything he had and seize his moment to prove to himself that he was indeed the cool, brave, and overall flawless man he wanted to be.

This was not one of those times.

Karamatsu’s heart raced in his chest and his stomach was twisted in knots as he walked down the hallway towards his new therapist’s office. Although his body language stated the exact opposite, he was incredibly nervous. His relaxed posture and his puffed out chest hid that very well.

Why was he so scared? Everything that Chibita told him about therapy sounded like a dream come true. A place where you could talk to a trained professional about how you're feeling without fear of judgement along with them giving advice on how to improve your state of mind? That sure sounded like a great idea to Karamatsu. So why was he anxious? He had no reason to be.

Well...he did have one reason.

Karamatsu couldn't begin to describe the feeling that he had when he was given the name of his psychiatrist. It was like that sinking feeling that you get in your stomach when you realize something horrible, but worse. Not only was a family member going to be seeing him at his most vulnerable, but it was the family member that hated him the most. He was dreading their first session from the moment he found this out to when he was nearing Ichimatsu’s office door.

Before he knew it, Karamatsu was standing in front of the only thing separating him from more humiliation and self hatred, once again caused by one of his many brothers. He raised his fist up to knock on the door, but stopped.

Is this really something I should go through? No, maybe not. He thought. Maybe I should just go home and crawl back into bed. But I can’t just leave without an explanation! What am I going to do?

While Kara pondered whether or not he should knock, Ichimatsu made the decision for him by opening up the door as if he knew his brother was standing on the other side. He didn't seem at all phased by his brother being his client. He just looked at his clipboard and said a simple “Welcome. Come in.”

Karamatsu nodded and confidently made his way into the office, trying to put on his typical “cool guy” exterior. His brother’s workspace was extremely messy, with papers haphazardly stacked on his desk and books in a bookshelf that looked like they were just thrown in with little thought put into where they should go. Ichimatsu didn't seem to mind the mess though, and he looked like he knew where everything was. He sat down at his desk and silently stared at Karamatsu. He stared back, unsure of what to do.

Finally, Ichimatsu gestured to the couch across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

Karamatsu nodded again and sat down in the soft cushions, letting the awkward silence hang in the air and waiting for Ichimatsu to make the first move.

Ichimatsu looked over his notes again and shifted his gaze back to Kara. “So what brings you here?”

With that, the older man froze. He didn't want Ichi to know that him and his brothers were the cause of his lack of self esteem and self worth. He doubted that they'd even feel guilty if they knew. Plus, none of them knew him outside of his persona. He tried so hard to make that persona who he was, and admitting that he hated himself would just undo everything he's built up. He had to think of something to say quick!

Karamatsu put on his usual confident smirk and closed his eyes. “Heh...you see brother, a friend of mine suggested that I come here, and although I don't see why, I didn't want to disappoint them when they thought they were doing a good deed!”

“Karamatsu, you don't need to act like that while you're here. You can be honest with me. I won't judge you for anything that you say and I won't tell any of our brothers about what we talk about. Everything that happens in this room stays in this room. You don't even have to see me as your brother. Right now, I'm your therapist.”

Karamatsu, genuinely dumbfounded, blinked a couple of times at Ichimatsu. That was the first time in a long time that Ichimatsu showed any semblance of kindness to him, and although he wasn't about to complain, it just felt weird.

Ichimatsu spoke again. “I know that this is a bit awkward, but you can trust me with anything. I have a lot of clients who are going through the same thing that you are, you don't need to feel like you're alone on this. I'm a professional, I know how to help if you tell me what's bothering you.”

Karamatsu so badly wanted to trust his brother and tell him how he truly felt, but along with keeping up his image, his concern was about how Ichimatsu would feel if he knew the truth. If he knew that him and the others were the main cause of his lack of self worth, he'd..well, he'd…

Actually, Karamatsu didn't know how his brother would react if he knew. He hasn't seen him since the brothers went their separate ways to start their own lives and careers. What happened to Ichimatsu that made his attitude towards him do a complete turnaround? Was he just trying to be professional? If they ran into each other somewhere in public, would he go back to abusing him?

Ichimatsu spoke once again and interrupted Karamatsu’s train of thought. If he was scared of being vulnerable around him, then he was going to fight fire with fire.

“If it makes you feel any better, I also had to get therapy before I went to college. I was so scared of moving out and getting a job, mostly because of the stress of having to be around so many people at once. After living with Todomatsu for a little bit while he was trying to get his acting career off the ground, I decided that I wanted to do something productive, but I didn't know what. Plus, I doubted myself too much to do so. After I struggled with this conundrum for a while, I finally told Mom and Dad about this and about how I felt, and they did what was probably the best thing they've ever done for me: they got me a therapist.

Sure, it took me a while for me to open up with her since I didn't think that I needed it at first, but once I did, I noticed that I felt a lot better after our sessions. I was happier, more comfortable. She taught me so many things about my self worth and she helped me through so many issues that I struggled with for a long time. Even after I decided to go to college and major in psychology, she was there with me through every step of the way. I probably would've dropped out from stress had it not been for her. I'm really happy with my life now, and I wouldn't be here had it not been for Mom and Dad’s decision to sign me up for counseling. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

The more Ichimatsu revealed about what he's been up to, the more Karamatsu’s expression softened. When they were still NEETs, Ichimatsu wouldn't be caught dead being this open about his feelings, and here he was, talking about his past struggles to the brother he used to hate the most without a hint of hesitation. He really has changed. Without noticing, Karamatsu's eyes began to water and his throat tightened. After watching Ichimatsu grow up into a cynical, cold loner and seeing that he's become someone like this, Karamatsu knew for sure that he could confide in him.

Noticing Kara’s tears, Ichimatsu leaned over his desk and handed him a box of tissues. “Here.”

After Karamatsu took the tissues and blinked away his tears, he slowly started to spill everything that he's felt over the years of living with his brothers. The loneliness, rejection, self hatred, desperation, trust issues, and to top it all off, the need to hide all of that out of fear of nobody caring. While it did hurt Ichimatsu to know that him and the rest of Karamatsu’s brothers were the main cause of these awful feelings, also knowing that his older brother trusted him enough to tell him all of this even after their less than great past made him feel really good. It brought him a sense of hope that Karamatsu’s relationships and sense of importance would improve greatly with some work and a bit of medication if needed. It was one of the many reasons that he loved being a therapist.

Karamatsu wrapped up his story and smiled at Ichimatsu. It was nothing like the confident grin that he usually wore. It was more soft and relieved, happy that he could finally talk about whatever he needed to in a secure safe space. It was almost cathartic.

With a glance at the cat themed clock on the wall, Ichimatsu turned back to his brother. “It's almost time to wrap up our session. Is there anything else you'd like to add before you leave?”

“Yes. I'd like to say that I could never be more proud of you, by brother. You've made so much progress in your career and mental image, so much so that you'd tell your story to someone that you hated. You've grown so much, fulfilled your dreams, and you've settled into a comfortable, happy life. I may still be trying to find my calling, but seeing you every week will help me in the long run so much, I know it. Thank you in advance for helping me, and thank you for finally being here for me.”

All Ichimatsu did in response was smile at his brother with his usual lidded gaze. “Thanks Karamatsu. It means a lot to hear that. I'll be seeing you again next week.”

The older brother made his way out of the doorway of the office after a goodbye, refreshed and smiling.

There were many more layers to Ichimatsu than he thought, and now that he knew that, he'd be less nervous about sharing the truth in their next session. Sure, he'd still be a bit reluctant since he wasn't used to actually addressing his issues, but at least he would know that he could be honest with him right off the bat next time.

It may not have seemed like it at first, but Ichimatsu couldn't have been better for his therapist.

#osomatsu san #karamatsu #ichimatsu #iromatsu #fanfic #my writing

22 notes · View notes

cpd5021 · 4 years

Text

Sticks and Stones

Happy Wednesday! Back with another one shot! This fic was based off a prompt sent in by revolutionary25 on FF.net . One week closer to them hopefully being back on our screens! Woohoo!

It happens in a blink. One second, I'm standing in the middle of Med, waiting for our suspect to be stitched up so we can interview him and then the next second I'm locking eyes with a woman I hadn't seen in years. At first glance, she might have been unrecognizable behind the swollen eyelids and bloodied and bruised face, but this wasn't a new sight to me. This was my mother. The second our eyes met, I felt the air leave my lungs and try as I might, I couldn't force any back in. My chest was tight and the room began to spin around me. Adam reached me first, quickly gripping my upper arms and spinning me around to leave the area we were all huddled in while at the same time, brushing Kim and Vanessa's worried faces away. I couldn't speak, hell, I still couldn't breathe...I felt like I was going to pass out or throw up and the panic in my chest was overwhelming. Adam pushed me into a small corridor that was thankfully empty, pressing me up against the wall and maintaining his firm grip on my arms to keep me upright.

"What the hell is going on?"

His voice was full of worry as he dipped his head down to meet my eyes. I tried to swallow but the movement got stuck in my throat and I let out an unusual noise, a mix between a whimper and a gag. I shook my head, unable to speak, and only managed to make him look more concerned.

"Hailey...come on, talk to me. You look like you just saw a ghost…"

He trailed off, attempting to meet my eyes once again. I nodded slowly, that was probably the best way to describe what had just happened. I had cut off all ties with my family years ago, after going through the pain of watching my mother continue to take her abuse with a smile. I simply couldn't take it anymore so one day I was just done. Seeing her, beaten beyond recognition, laying in that hospital bed, had sent me right back to my childhood. In an instant, I wasn't a detective, but instead the scared little girl I once was, hiding in her bedroom with a pillow shoved over her head, praying the screaming would stop. My chest burned at the thought, or maybe it was from lack of oxygen as I still hadn't managed to take a proper breath. The room around me swayed and I felt Adam's grip tighten. I must have looked as bad as I felt because suddenly he was pushing me down to sit on the floor, guiding me to lean back against the wall. I hung my head, letting it rest against my knees, and wrapped my arms around my bent legs. My sweaty hands clasped in front of me, holding myself in a ball on the floor. Adam kept one hand on my shoulder and I could tell he was talking to me but I couldn't understand what he was saying. Suddenly, another hand was on my other shoulder. This one felt different, softer and warmer as it rubbed my upper back. More mumbled words exchanged above me and then Adam's hand was gone. I risked a glance up to see who the other hand belonged too and was met with Jay's worried eyes boring into mine. He gave me a small smile, only half of his mouth rising ever so slightly and it never reached his eyes. I felt the vice grip around my chest loosen just a little and was finally able to take a deep breath. The minute the air swirled into my chest, something inside of me broke and I felt my eyes begin to burn with tears. I ducked my head back down, hoping Jay hadn't noticed my sudden rush of emotion and blinked furiously to stop their flow. It was no use. I kept my head pressed against my knees as the tears ran down my face, wetting the denim below me. Jay's hand remained on my upper back, rubbing slow and gentle circles between my shoulder blades. I was thankful that I hadn't lost it in front of Adam, but was also embarrassed that I had once again let my walls crumble in front of Jay. He had seen me turn into a mess more times than I'd care to admit and I was starting to get a complex. He didn't say anything, not any of the times before, or now. Usually, he remained silent while I worked to pull myself back together and then I'd eventually manage to joke it off or change the subject. Something told me this time would be different. I'm not sure how long we sat like that before I was finally able to lift my head up and risk a glance his way. His eyes still held their worried look but he seemed a little relieved that I was seemingly coming back around. I wanted to say something, explain what had just happened, but that would open up a whole box I wasn't sure I was ready to unpack. Part of me hoped that I could just sneak out of here with my team, and my mother, being none the wiser. Of course, that wouldn't be the case thought.

"Upton. That was the name on the ER board."

Jay said in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard and fought back more tears at the mention of her name, of my name.

"Yeah…"

I breathed out, my voice still shaky from the emotions battling inside of me. I looked over to him and was met with a waiting stare. I knew he wouldn't push me but I also felt like I should at least clue him in a little bit.

"My mother."

I pursed my lips together as I looked at him again, recognition clicking on his face. I'm sure he had seen the way she looked too and would have been able to piece two and two together with the minor details he knew of my childhood.

"Hailey…"

He trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say. Quite frankly, I wasn't sure either. I didn't know how to proceed with any of this. My conversation with Jay, that fact that she was here and appeared to have received yet another harsh beating… any of it. I rubbed at my face, wiping away the wetness on my cheeks and forced myself to take a few breaths in an attempt to compose myself.

"I haven't seen her in years…"

I whispered, more to myself than anything. Jay nodded beside me, waiting for me to continue.

"I don't know what to do. Do I pretend I didn't see her there and hope she doesn't contact me? Or do I go check on her? She's my mother…"

I trailed off as more tears gathered in my eyes. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my shirt and tried to keep myself together.

"Well...did she see you?"

Jay started, trying to help me through this. I nodded and flashed back to the look in her eyes when she met mine. Jay nodded beside me again, taking in the new information.

"What do you want to do?"

His question was gentle as he carefully pushed me into making a decision. Truthfully, I wanted to go talk to her. Make sure she is okay. Sure, I had seen her take multiple beatings, some making her look way worse than she did now, but this time felt different. Despite her years of abuse, my mother never typically sought medical attention afterwards and it had me worried that something major was wrong. Jay, seemingly reading my mind, gently bumped his shoulder into mine before he spoke.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

I smiled softly at his offer. Of course he would be willing to walk blindly into my family drama, just to be there as support for me. But I was sure that his presence would only bring with it a slew of questions I couldn't answer. I slowly shook my head, sending him another smile. I took a deep breath and finally climbed back up off the floor with Jay right beside me. He steadied me when I swayed upon standing but quickly let his hand drop, looking almost embarrassed with the contact. He sent me a sheepish smirk and I couldn't help but send him another genuine smile. We turned and walked back down the short hallway Adam had pushed me down and then we were back in the open area with the rest of Intelligence. They all stood around the nurses station, still waiting for our suspect. Most of them had their backs turned to me but I could see Adam's eyes trailing after me as I made my way over to the curtain that was now pulled shut. I paused at the entryway, my heart rate increasing with each passing second, before I slowly brought my hand up to knock on the frame.

"Come in."

Came a voice that made my heart break just a little more. She sounded so vulnerable that it made my temper threaten to flare. I pulled back the curtain and ducked inside before I could chicken out. The second I saw her up close, the tears instantly returned to my eyes and I hurried to blink them away.

"Oh Hailey.."

She said my name, her own voice full of emotion as she held her arms up, inviting me into an embrace. I closed the distance between us, carefully choosing to ignore the bruises all over her arms and let her pull me into a hug. She smelled like a mix of dried blood and alcohol. I pulled back to look at her face and she tried to give me a smile that was beyond twisted under her swollen face. Her hand gripped one of mine, preventing me from stepping back any further and I shifted my gaze away from her, searching the room for anything else to focus on.

"Do I need to ask what happened? Or do I already know?"

I didn't mean my words to come out so harsh, but seeing her here and knowing what, or rather who, had put her here made my temper flare once again.

"Hailey bug, it's not what you think...it was just a little disagreement."

She tried to brush it off, even having the nerve to chuckle at the end of her statement as if this was a laughing matter. The smell of alcohol assaulted my nose again and I scrunched my face up in disgust.

"Were you drinking?"

I asked, my voice harsh once again.

"No, I don't drink Hailey. You know that."

Again, she chuckled. My face burned with the anger boiling inside of me.

"Then why do you smell like a bar?"

I accused, still avoiding her face.

"Uh, well...well you know your father likes his drinks mixed a certain way. I just didn't add quiet enough-"

I raised my hand, cutting her off before she could continue. I didn't need to hear the rest to know what had happened. My blood boiled at the thought of him throwing his drink at her, not an unusual occurrence during my childhood, but never one I understood. I couldn't wrap my head around why she would stay and take his nonsense, especially not when she had been given an out on multiple occasions.

"I have to get back to work."

I said bluntly, yanking my hand free and turning to leave the room.

"Oh Hailey, wait...please don't leave yet…"

She pleaded behind me, causing me to pause just before the curtain. I turned to face her once again, swallowing hard before speaking.

"I can't do this mom. I won't. I'm not going to stand by and watch him do this to you. I offered you help to get you out of there and that offer still stands. But I won't just play along like nothing is wrong when he keeps doing this to you and you keep taking it. If you want my help, here's how to reach me. But other than that….good bye mom."

I pulled a card out of my pocket, placing it on the bedside table next to her and then turned and walked out of the room. By the time I walked out, the rest of my team was gone. I pointed towards the lobby, pulling out my phone to see if Jay could come back to give me a ride but stopped short when I saw him sitting in the chair just inside the waiting room. He gave me a small unsure smile and stood as I approached. I let out a breath and shook my head as I nodded towards the exit, not wanting to risk another breakdown in front of anyone else. We climbed into Jay's truck and remained silent on the ride back to the 21st, him thankfully not pushing me to talk as I'm not sure I would be able to hold it together once I started. I managed to make it through the rest of my day, not oblivious to the looks both Jay and Adam kept sending my way, or the looks they were exchanging with each other. Finally, the day ended and I hurried to gather my things from my locker before slamming it shut and making to leave the room. Jay came through the door just before I reached it and he gave me a sheepish grin when I had to step back to let him in.

"Beers tonight?"

He asked, eyebrows raised with anticipation. I briefly considered it but settled on just being alone and letting myself process the day before I drug him down with me. I gave him a small smile and shook my head gently, watching his own smile falter slightly.

"Raincheck for tomorrow? I just need to process this alone…"

I explained, hoping to not hurt his feelings. He nodded and gently squeezed my shoulder as he let me pass. I made my way out of the building and into my car in a blur, the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally starting to catch up to me. I was so lost in thought on my drive home that I didn't notice the car lights behind me, following me turn for turn as I made my way home. They drew my attention too late, as I noticed them just before I pulled into the drive. The car sped past my driveway just as I pulled in. It was too dark for me to see the driver so I waited until the taillights disappeared around the corner before getting out. I made my way up my porch steps, fumbling with my keys and having lost my train of thought again. I caught sight of the shadow a second too late before strong hands gripped my shoulders and spun me around, slamming me back into my front door. The air was forced from my lungs on impact and I felt my face pale when I saw the face looming over me. My father. His face was flushed with a mix of anger and alcohol, the smell radiating off him and assaulting my nose in the light evening breeze. Before I could say anything, he pulled me forward only to shove me back against the door again, causing me to cry out in pain as my head struck the metal of the door frame.

"You little bitch! You should have stayed out of this!"

His hot breath screamed in my face, causing me to flinch. I knew I didn't stand a chance fighting off his large frame, but suddenly I didn't even have the notion to try. The way he was holding me, screaming at me, made me feel like the tiny, fragile little girl again and I felt myself shutting down. He yanked me forward again, this time his hand coming to grip my neck and causing me to drop my jacket and keys onto the ground below. He tightened his grip, lifting me slightly off my feet and I danced on my tiptoes to try and ease the choke hold he had me in. My hands clawed at his wrists but it was no use. He slammed me back against the door again, his hands releasing me and I crumbled to the ground, holding my neck and gagging as the air burned my throat. I closed my eyes, waiting for another blow, when a strangled yell escaped him. I looked up to see him being pulled backwards and tossed onto the pavement. The sound of metal cuffs clinking making me try to focus even harder on the scene before me. Jay held him down on the pavement, arms restrained behind his back with his face down in the grass. Jay's frantic eyes met mine, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded, trying to reassure him as I watched my dad flail underneath Jay. Jay gave him another shove into the pavement, only angering him more as the profanities spewed out of his mouth. I tried to stand but my body wouldn't cooperate. I heard Jay call in for a patrol car to head this way. Part of me wanted to tell him no, to just let my father go and save me the embarrassment of him being transported to my place of employment. But that would make me just like my mother and the thought made me sick. It didn't take long for the lights of the patrol car to illuminate the street. Jay pulled my dad into a sitting position but as soon as they were face to face, I watched as he spit right in Jay's face. Before I could process that, I saw Jay draw his arm back and deliver a solid blow to my dad's jaw, blood spewing from his mouth on impact. I would be lying if I tried to deny that a small smirk crept onto my face, if only for a minute, at the sight. The patrolmen reached Jay then and together they hauled my father up. I listened as the officer exchanged a few words with Jay before he hauled my dad away to the patrol car. Jay turned to face me then, hesitating for just a second before he closed the distance between us at a jog. I was still sitting on my porch, leaning against the door I had just been thrown in too, already feeling my body ache from the blows. Jay knelt in front of me, reaching a gentle hand out to my shoulder and I looked up through tear filled eyes to meet his worried look. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. So instead, he helped me stand and we made our way into my condo silently. I set my things on the kitchen counter, immediately moving to the cupboard that housed my alcohol and pulled out the tequila along with two glasses. I returned to Jay, who now sat perched on the barstool by my island and poured us each a drink. I added just enough liquid to the glass to amount to a shot and instantly picked up the glass, tossing the drink back and enjoying the slow burn it left down my throat. I watched as Jay did the same before refilling our glasses, fuller this time with the intention to just sip away at it. I knew he was waiting for me to speak but I couldn't and eventually he broke the silence.

"You okay?"

It was somewhat of a loaded question and we both knew it. Today had been hell to say the least and Jay had seen firsthand more of the demons in my closet then I'd care to admit. He seemed to be taking it all in stride though and was only concerned with my well being over everything. I pondered my response, debating how much more open I wanted to be with him tonight.

"I...yeah."

I trailed off weakly, feeling my eyes start to burn with the threat of tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He asked gently, not wanting to push me. I knew I would owe him some sort of an explanation or something, but the weight of the day was catching up to me quickly. I scrunched my face up a little, sending him a half hearted smirk before pushing off the barstool and heading into my living room. If I was going to open that box again I was at the very least going to be comfortable doing so. We perched on opposite ends of the couch, me sitting with my knees bent up to my chest while Jay stretched his legs out off the couch. I sipped my drink a little more before I started talking.

"I promise, he wasn't always like that. Some days were better than others...but...some were worse."

Jay nodded, taking a sip from his own glass and waiting for me to continue.

"She usually took the brunt of it. Usually because he would be coming after one of us and she would stop him. Or try to anyway. As I got older...it just got to a point where I couldn't stand watching it anymore so I just left. I feel like I just abandoned her but she won't take the help…"

I let my head dip down as I felt the tears sting my eyes once again.

"You didn't abandon her Hailey...some people...they just won't leave…"

I let out a humorless chuckle at his words. He was right and she was the shining example of that.

"He got to me a lot too, I think because I reminded him of her so much. But not usually as bad as that."

I watched as Jay took in a deep breath, his eyes looking like he was picturing something far away. His grip on the glass tightened as he spoke.

"Not usually?"

His eyes met mine then and I saw a mix of heartbreak and anger swirling within them. I had to break away before I lost it completely.

"There were a few times that were pretty bad…"

I admitted, hanging my head once again.

"Hailey…"

He trailed off, his own voice thick with emotion.

"It's okay. I mean...it's not. But...I'm okay, now."

I stammered out my words, trying to shake off the memories. We feel into a silence, both taking the occasional drink and sharing a glance. Eventually, as I usually do after I let my walls crumble in front of him, I managed to shift the conversation to a lighter topic and we fell into an easy banter. I felt better with him here, despite everything the day had brought Jay was a constant source of comfort that I hadn't quite figured out yet. I definitely owed him for showing up even after I had told him no, although a part of me had known he wouldn't give up that easily anyway. After over an hour, and a glance at the clock noting it was almost 1AM, Jay stood from the couch and stretched. I stood up after him and we made our way to the front door. He lingered awkwardly for a moment, before turning to face me.

"Hailey, you promise you're good? If you need anything…"

He trailed off, giving me a reassuring smile. I smiled back, thankful for everything he had done for me. I nodded, not trusting my voice and then he reached his hand to pull the door open. As I watched him step out I felt my heart start to race as a panic rose in my chest. I would be alone now and the realization had my mind running wild. No sooner had he clicked the door shut was I yanking it back open and saying his name. He turned around instantly, a mix of confusion and worry on his face at my tone.

"I...it's stupid. I'm sorry..nevermind."

I tried to back peddle, quickly thinking through what I was about to ask him and feeling instantly embarrassed at the thought. He didn't buy it though and quickly stepped back up to the door.

"What is it Hailey?"

He smiled again and the sight helped my heartbeat to slow ever so slightly. I decided to throw caution to the wind and swallowed hard before speaking.

"Could you...would you maybe...stay? It's just...I don't want to be alone tonight."

I hated how pathetic I sounded right now but he didn't seem to care. He nodded and stepped back inside, shutting the door behind him. Before I could process what he was doing he closed the gap between us and pulled me into a tight hug. My first instinct was to pull away as this wasn't something we normally did. But as I felt the heat from his body seep into mine I let myself relax into him and the feeling of safety his embrace brought.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

48 notes · View notes

repo-net · 3 years

Text

It's been over a century since I last shared an OC of mine properly here, so here's another one of em, lmfao. This little fella has slowly become one of my more favorite ones mainly because he's kind of a representation of what I was like (well, aside from his backstory) before I grew into the more social and outgoing person that I turned into mid high school, so I have a special place in my heart for him. Anyways.

• Name: Aoyama Nakazke

• Gender: Male

• Height: 161cm (5'3")

• Weight: 53kg (118lbs)

• Likes: Having his hair stroked, bottles of cola, cats

• Dislikes: The smell of garbage, belts, and being ignored

• Talent: Street Baller

• Birthday: May 28

Link to the picrew used to make the above picture:

Full body images: (left is his regular outfit, right is his gym/jersey outfit, but it's more or less just him without the jacket, lol)

Personality: Aoyama is a humble and caring boy, one that shows a lot of will to prove that he's harmless and won't pull anything suspicious. He has a genuinely kind heart, one willing to reach out to others when he has a chance to do so. Despite this though, Aoyama isn't all that he seems.

He has his own insecurities due to a lack of social interaction growing up and a lack of attention and affection ever being given to him, and thus isn't exactly the best when talking to people. His thoughts and his words, while self-deprecating at times, may contrast with occasionally selfish actions to try and survive, and thus leads to Aoyama's fear of being seen as self-centered by others.

Despite this though, Aoyama truly does try to make himself look as trustable as possible and tends to act on the good side, but his desire to survive can overcome this, and while getting close to him isn't a particularly hard task, it takes a while for him to actually open up to his problems, being rather timid. Gaining his full trust can make him very attached to you though, as he values someone who he thinks won't just abandon and hurt him as incredibly saintlike, and goes out of their way to defend them, even if said person truly is in the wrong. That can be a good or bad thing depending on who he ends up giving his full devotion to.

(Backstory coming up is kind of long and has some content warning for abuse, so I'll just point that out. It's nothing too complicated, you can summarize it in 2-4 sentences if you wanted to, but I thought I'd make his backstory more detailed.)

Backstory: Aoyama lived in an abusive and poor household growing up, his parents taking out their frustration over their situation on him, claiming that their lives wouldn't be as miserable if he weren't born.

They would constantly shelter him and refuse to ever let him out of the house despite constantly seeing other kids enjoying and living their life, and being someone who got the bare minimum in education via homeschool, he was incredibly inexperienced with talking to people, and to some extent, stil is. As a matter of fact, to this day, Aoyama hasn't even graduated middle school.

His parents would berate and get on his case whenever he made even the slightest mistake; and when he makes a larger scale one, his parents would beat him with a belt to discipline him, and this only grew his hate, for them and his want to go out even further.

One night, Aoyama simply couldn't take it any more and snuck a bag with clothes, what little money he had along with a generous amount of what his parents' wallet had and a basketball along with himself outside of the house at night and never returned ever again.

Once he left the house and had no one but himself to look out for himself, he had to turn to playing basketball on the streets to keep himself entertained and sane. But it was clear to him that he wasn't going to survive since he'd just run out of money sooner than later. So, he decided that the only way to really live is to play with other people at basketball, and gamble his money to get paid.

However, due to his small size and dirty clothes/look, he'd get picked on by bigger kids and he'd get pushed around and hurt a lot, his life became a constant competition where he had to constantly come out on top in the harsher, more physical street basketball environment he had to grow up in to pay for the food and drinks he needed just to live. But his talent for basketball from his speed, stamina, and technique would always help him defy odds and come out of matches richer.

Every day was a battle with other kids and every day he had to spend his money wisely and make sure no one would try to steal it from him; he was constantly paranoid of people staring at him like an outcast and he'd only trusted those he played with on the courts. His life for more than half a decade was just physical and bruising streetball that had him have to put his body on the line just to sustain himself in the streets. His only company during those times were stray cats, and the occasional teammates after ball games that he'd share a cola with.

One day while he was looking for a new street to stay in though, Aoyama participated in a larger scale street ball tournament outside of his home town, and he came out of nowhere as an underdog to win, defeating a mountain of larger names in the street ball genre and gaining recognition around the area. He was recruited into a major street ball team and after they learned that Aoyama literally had no place to stay in, he was allowed to sleep in the team bus + the team's dugouts/dorms.

Ever since then, his life has significantly improved, at least by his standards, he's travelled across the country with his teammates, he's gotten just the tiniest bit better at talking to people, though he's still a rather introverted and timid mess when outside of the playing court. His current goal is to win a bigger tournament with his team and use the winnings to come back to his parents and apologize for stealing the money he took from them when he left the house, despite all the abuse that he took from them, he wants to hope that they've changed when he comes back. That's what his wish and hope is.

Extra/s: His preferred position on the court is shooting guard, although due to his height, he ends up getting pushed into the point guard position more than he likes to admit.

He bought his jacket after he got recruited by his current team. Before that, all he wore were white shirts and shorts that he'd buy from low quality stores and toss out after a week because they got dirty.

His body is actually pretty muscly since he had to work on it to not get pushed around and hurt as much when playing street ball, but there are still some present scars on his torso, some caused by his parents' abuse.

Quote/s: "I don't really get how it all works, if I'm being honest. But if this sorta thing makes you happy, then I'll do it. Even if it's gonna embarrass me..."

"Hey, you leave them alone! You're just trying to twist the narrative on them with your made up story, aren't you? A person like them... they'd never do wrong! If you wanna come at them, then you'll be coming at me too!"

"S-Stop that! I don't know what the hell you see in me, but I don't agree with it if you're acting this way around me! I don't understand feelings like this, and trying to think about stuff I don't understand just hurts..."

Anddd that's more or less Aoyama Nakazke. Sorry that this was long as hell, it's probably not anything special but I like how he came out. Please give feedback if you have any, it'd be really appreciated! Thanks for reading!

#danganronpa #my oc character #aoyama nakazke

5 notes · View notes

captainenjolras · 4 years

Text

ThorBruce fic! Mostly fluff, maybe a little angst.

Summary: Thor throws Bruce an actual birthday party!

⚠️Slight TW for mentions of child abuse (barely tho but just in case)⚠️

“What’s that?”

Bruce looked over to where Thor was pointing. In a neighbors yard, he could see a bounce house, children running and about five boxes of pizza.

“Oh, it’s a birthday party.”

The scientist continued walking, unaware that his boyfriend was still watching.

“Thor,” asked a puzzled Bruce once he noticed that Thor’s hand wasn’t in his, “what’s up?”

“I’ve never seen a birthday party like that,” beamed the god. “Is that what they do here on Midgard?”

“Oh, yeah; you’ve seriously never seen one?”

“Well, I’ve had birthday parties back on Asgard, but they were never like this!”

“What were they like?”

“A bit more formal.”

“Ah; yeah here it’s just kinda a fun, casual day.”

“Did you ever have a birthday party,” asked Thor once they started walking again.

“Hmm? Oh, not really.”

“How come?”

Bruce tensed up a little when Thor asked him that. The god instantly remembered the reason and tried to change the subject.

“Anything interesting happen at work lately?”

“Umm, not really.”

The scientist tried to had the sadness in his voice, but it wasn’t really working. Still, Thor tried to cheer him up.

“One time on Asgard, Fandral and I were hunting and we thought we saw a bear! But guess what? It wasn’t! It was just a really hairy man!”

Bruce tried his best to give a genuine laugh, but he felt like he just couldn’t. Guilt washed over Thor as he watched his boyfriend put on a fake smile.

“Bruce,” he started, once they reached the crosswalk, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to bring...that...up. I should’ve realized. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce assured him sorrowfully. “You didn’t know.”

“Hey, your birthday is in a week. I’m gonna make sure you have the best birthday of your life.”

“You don’t have to do that,” chuckled the scientist sadly. Thor places a gentle and caring hand to the mans cheek before speaking again.

“I know. But I want to. You deserve it. Bruce, you deserve the world. I love you.”

“...Thanks, Thor, but you don’t need to waste your time to celebrate just another day.”

“But it’s your birthday!”

“Birthdays happen everyday; why waste your time on mine? It’s fine, I just wanna...can we maybe head home now?”

Thor scanned the shorter mans anxious and sad face before nodding and taking his hand.

“I love you, Bruce.”

“I love you too, Thor.”

——————————————————————————

“Stark!”

Tony jumped at the sound of Thor’s booming voice.

“Jesus- I told you not to do that.”

“Many apologies; I need your help with something!”

“What’s up?”

The mechanic turned away from his work to see Thor standing a few feet away, notebook and pen in hand.

“...Is this an interview?”

“No, I just need to ask you a few questions.”

“That’s an interview, big guy.”

“Oh.”

“...So what do you need to know?”

“Do you know what Bruce might want for his birthday?”

Tony smirked before turning back to his work.

“He’s your boyfriend, Pointbreak. I hoped you’d know what he liked.”

“Oh, I do! I just didn’t know if he maybe told you anything that he wouldn’t mention to me, cause you’re bestrfriends and all.”

“He wants a ring on his finger,” mumbled Tony jokingly.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing; he never really mentioned anything. Maybe Nat would know? They’re real close.”

Thor thought for a minute before giving the mechanic a smile.

“Thank you, Anthony! Enjoy your work!”

——————————————————————————

“So you want us to help you come up with ideas for a gift for Bruce?”

“If you wouldn’t mind!”

Clint and Nat looked at each other before shrugging and turning back to Thor.

“Sure,” said Clint. “What were you thinking of?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure; that’s why I came to you guys!”

“Well,” started Natasha, taking the book and pen from Thor’s hands and drawing out columns, “let’s start by making a list of gifts that are “go” and “definitely not.””

“Good idea!”

“What’s some stuff he likes?”

“Well,” beamed the god, “he really likes The Office! He also really likes yoga and reading! Oh, and animals! And science, obviously! There’s also space, Disney, Broadway, the color purple, that one movie with the five kids in detention, flowers, the little house plants that Stephen has a lot of, old books, baking-“

“Let’s start with The Office.”

“Ok!”

“You could get him some merch, like a mug or hat.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” added Clint, taking the notebook and writing something down.

“And for yoga and reading,” said Nat, “you cold get him some books and a yoga mat.”

“That could work!”

“Any other ideas?”

“Well, Tony said something about a ring.”

“I-“

“Does Bruce like children, Thor?”

Nat slapped the man up the back of the head before turning back to Thor.

“You could get him a promise ring.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a ring couples get each other sometimes, kinda like to show the other that they love them.”

“I like that idea!”

“So you think you’re gonna settle with that?”

“Yes! Thank you, Natasha! Thank you, Barton!”

——————————————————————————

“You want me to help you bake a cake?”

“If you will.”

Loki thought for a minute before looking up at his brother from his spot in the couch.

“If I give you the instructions, would I still have to help you?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I could handle it from there!”

“...Alright. Give me a piece of paper and a pen.”

Thor handed Loki his notebook. The other god looked down at the writting in confusion.

“Why do you need a mug, a mat, a book, a ring and children?”

“I don’t need children, Barton wrote that.”

“...What is this for?”

“Bruce’s birthday is soon!”

“Wait, you want ME to help YOU make a birthday cake?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Thor, I’m a trickster. You really trust me to help you make a cake for your boyfriend?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my brother!”

“...Trickster g- never mind. Just give me a pen.”

——————————————————————————

“Good morning, love.”

Bruce smiled as Thor pressed a kiss to his curls.

“Morning, Thor.”

“Happy birthday!”

“...That’s today?”

“Yes, silly!”

“Oh.”

“Here, let’s go to the living room; I have something I think you’ll like.”

Thor led his still sleepy boyfriend into their living room, covering his eyes as to not spoil the surprise. Once they reached the couch and sat down, Thor began to speak.

“Before I remove my hands, I need you to close your eyes. Now, I know you said I didn’t have to do anything for you today, but...that didn’t feel right. Over the week I had help from our friends to find something I’d think you’d like, and I came up with this. Ok, I’m removing my hands now, but PLEASE keep your eyes shut.”

Bruce nodded and closed his eyes as Thor’s gentle hands left his face. He heard the god walk away and quickly come back, standing between him and the coffee table.

“Open your eyes, love.”

The scientist slowly opened his eyes to see Thor holding a bunch of gifts. He couldn’t help but gasp a little at the action and let a small smile spread across his lips.

“You...you got this for me?”

“Of course! Would you like to see what I got?”

“Y-yes!”

Thor handed him one gift, which was wrapped tightly in paper. Bruce tore open the wrapping and admired his new books.

“Oh my god! Thor, thank you!”

“Would you like to see the other gifts?”

“Duh! You got more?”

“Of course! Here, I think you’ll like this one!”

The god handed the shorter man a bag, still balancing all the other stuff in his large arms. Bruce removed the tissue paper and pulled out a “worlds best boss” mug. What really made him smile though was the fact that Thor has crossed out “boss” and wrote “boyfriend.”

“Oh my god...”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” smiled Bruce, I little chocked up. “I love it.”

After the mug came a new yoga mat, a purple hoodie, a few succulents, a Disney movie collection, a Breakfast Club T-shirt, and a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars. Bruce was smiling wider than ever as Thor finally took a seat next to him.

“Thank you so much, Thor! I’m literally about to cry, I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the universe, Bruce...and there’s one more gift.”

Bruce shook his head with a laugh as he looked at his already many gifts. When he turned back to meet Thor’s eyes, the god was holding a small box.

“...What’s that?”

“It’s a promise ring,” smiled Thor as he opened the box. “Natasha told me that here on Midgard, couples get this for each other to show that they love each other. And I love you, Bruce. I love you more than anything.”

The scientist stared down at the small silver ring that his boyfriend held before looking back up with tears in his eyes.

“...Thank you, Thor. I-I love you, too. Oh god, I-“

Bruce wrapped Thor in a hug, resting his chin on his shoulder. The god placed a hand on the back of the scientist’s head and held him close.

“I love you so much, Bruce.”

“I love you too, Thor. Thank you so, so much. This is the best birthday ever.”

“It’s still not over. Also, there’s cake in the fridge.”

Bruce let out a small, genuine laugh before closing his eyes and melting into Thor’s hug.

#thorbruce #thunderscience #gammahammer #thundersmach #thorhulk #thruce #thulk #thunderhulk #bruce x thor #thor x bruce #thorbruce fic #my second fic hope yall like it #doctorthunder #brucethor #hulkthor

35 notes · View notes