#and i mean. is it not enough to beat up my oc and throw them on a canvas to make unhappy faces at the camera

[wetbloodworm]

pivoting mid-drawing cathan covered in blood to draw abaddon covered in blood instead. as you do.

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 12

12 - Liar, Liar*

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc [vallie]

more: chp 11 // masterlist | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 14.7k (strap in)

Summary: Following Noah and Vallie's thrift shop adventure, Vallie faces the consequences of her actions. After the launch of their new music video, Vallie realizes she might not like what she wished for. A pivotal decision reshapes the group's dynamics, leading to a significant change in the connection between a specific pair.

warnings: alcohol, bratty noah, smoking, heartache, yearning, regret, jealousy, unprotected sex, cream pie x2, oral (f receiving), cum eating kinda?, angry nick but also soft nick???, fluffy???, she's just a girl ok, mediocre writing lol, sorry this has taken 500 years, my apology is that it's long as fuck, 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer - This story is AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band here is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

Reminder; Minor band crossovers (greta van fleet / chase atlantic) to supply side characters :)

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

When Noah and I walk up the gravelly incline to the warehouse, the rest of the band and Bryan are all on their phones lounging on different surfaces - chairs with feet propped on tables, against the brick wall, spread out on the floor. Boredom was an understatement. 

“Well, took you guys long enough.” Grumbles Jolly. “What did you get lost picking out scarves?”

My heart skips a beat at the coincidental wording. “Sorry, we really had to dig to find anything.” I mumble quickly, throwing the plastic shopping bags on the ground.

“Well, did you find anything good?” Jolly asks.

“Oh, we found something good alright.” Noah replies, shoving his hand into a plastic bag to retrieve the cursed fedora.

I roll my eyes and playfully smack his arm, “Shut up.”

“No.” He says matter-of-factly, with a popped hip and a hand on his waist. “It’s your fault, you put it on my head.”

“Yeah whatever.” I laugh and wave off his silliness.

I suddenly feel all eyes in the room on us accompanied by an awkward stillness. Of course they’d be thrown off, we could barely be in a room together before we left, why wouldn’t this be strange?

I glance up for a split second before digging into the bags and find Nicholas’ eyes watching us intently. His brows low and eyes sharp.

In my tummy swirls a feeling so closely reminiscent of guilt, similar to when I was with Kras last night. But neither make any sense. Nicholas and I aren’t anything, it shouldn’t matter. Kras and I are just friends. And Noah and I definitely are not anything. And yet, here he is looking angry and here I am feeling guilty.

After handing out the thrifted clothes and a wardrobe change, the boys come out in their new clothes, and they look perfect. The pieces we chose embody each one of them flawlessly. They fit the direction Noah wants for the music video but they’re rather simple. Folio’s is the most basic in a plain black shirt, black jeans, and his sneakers. Jolly’s is a black long sleeve button down, tight black pants paired with his hefty combat boots. Noah’s outfit was centered around the black peacoat we found as the statement piece with a black turtleneck beneath it, black pants and boots. We even picked up something for Bryan even though he was staying behind the camera - he got a vintage Kodak t-shirt, which he thought was “rad as hell”. 

Since I showed up in last night’s sweats, I figured I’d pick up an outfit as well. I found a grey sundress. It’s something I would normally only wear in casual settings, but I wanted to be comfy and it was the only halfway cute thing in the thrift shop.

The outfit I picked out for Nicholas was the best one, but I may be biased. It’s a thin black sweater with thumb holes atop a black turtleneck paired with baggy, strappy pants and finished off with black leather combat boots.

With the new uniforms, the band and crew seem to have a reinvigorated morale. It did exactly what I needed it to do, it gave them the spark they needed to bring the music video to life. 

We spend our time running the song over and over while Bryan gets shots from all angles. I got some content for posting and even posed the boys for some social media trends, which they all hated except Folio, and Bryan in the background. Since I was done gathering content, I sat at the plastic picnic table on the far side of the warehouse diagonal from the makeshift stage while they continued to shoot slightly different variations.

I plug my phone and camera into my Macbook to import the photos and videos I took to begin editing them and schedule them for posting.

“Vallie.” I hear a voice call amongst mumbling between a take.

I snap up to match the voice to the source: Noah.

“What’s up?” I respond, half expecting to be met with some sort of criticism or snarky remark.

“Were you paying attention to this last take?” He questions, but not in an accusatory way that I’d normally anticipate, just genuine curiosity.

“A little, why?”

“What did you think of the intro?”

A hush blankets the room and the rest of them look between us as if they’d seen a ghost. I’m glad we’re finally kind of getting along but I wish he wouldn’t make it so obvious. Especially in front of Nicholas. The odd feeling in the room dances a chill up my arms leaving goosebumps behind.

“Oh um, I liked it? It was cool.” Truthfully, I’m not sure that I did like it, but I just wanted to move on from being in the spotlight.

He gives me a wide, genuine grin like a kid in the middle of a playground, “Sick, I thought so too.”

I glance over at Bryan, who is slowly but surely becoming my lifeline in these situations. He offers a ‘I don’t know either but just roll with it?’ look with a brow wiggle and a barely noticeable shrug.

Mid-shoot everyone needed some sort of touch up. I somehow had my job description expanded to include wardrobe and makeup.

The one I dreaded the most was Nicholas.

I walk over to him, mute, focusing my eyes straight forward which for me happens to be his chest. I keep my gaze away from his eyes as I fix the collar of his cardigan.

He too keeps his focus off of me.

“Sorry I acted like an ass earlier.” He says sounding partially sincere, partially grumpy. “It was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

I clear my throat. An apology was the last thing I expected and the last thing I deserve. “It’s okay.”

A quiet pause fills the small space between us.

“So, you’re seeing someone?” He questions casually but I can tell it’s anything but casual.

I press my lips together contemplating if I really want to commit this hard to the ruse. But Kras is right, and my gut is right. No matter how much I want to stay entangled with him, it can’t continue. I don’t know how well this action plan is going to work, but I have to try.

“Yes.” I lie with fake confidence. “Kind of.”

He takes a moment to process my response which makes me question how good of a job I did with lying. Finally, he nods, his eyes still locked on something past the opening of the warehouse.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I sweeten the lie.

“I guess that’s a good thing then, you know, for our jobs and all.” His voice light, as if he’s purposefully making it seem more nonchalant than it is. I know I hurt him, I can hear it in his voice. Whether it was his heart or his ego that I hurt, I’m not sure but all I know is that we went too far. “It just would’ve been nice to know.”

The painful twist in my chest confirms that I made the right decision to stick to the plan. I'm already so invested in him that it hurts; I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if I let myself fall any deeper.

I swallow the very faint lump in my throat and flatten out the thin material resting on his chest. Spending another night with him was a bigger mistake than I realized because just the warmth of him beneath my fingertips makes me want to melt right into him. I wish I didn’t know what he felt like, what he sounded like, what he tasted like. Suddenly I want to take everything back. I want to unkiss him, unfuck him, unknow him. In the span of knowing them and being on their team, I’ve regretted it about 75% of the time but there, standing in front of him, it is a solid 110%.

I wish I had just heard them on the radio and found myself at a show, 

or met them in passing during industry events,

or maybe bumped into him in a coffee shop where he suggests his favorite latte,

or literally any other scenario that would grant me the luxury of just reaching up and kissing him without feeling confliction or guilt. 

The reality of the whole situation hits me all at once and my entire mood shifts abruptly, in a way I’ve never let happen while I work. I’m normally exceptionally skilled in the art of separating my emotions from most other things but this cuts through all of that. He lowered my walls more than anyone ever had and reached a part of me I’ve never let someone do before. I swallow hard and blink the burning in my eyes away. The last thing I need is for him to see my eyes full of tears. 

So, I do what I think makes the most sense. I yank each edge of my mouth into a tight-lipped smile and step back to hold out an overly professional hand, “Friends?” 

He nearly grimaces at the word and begrudgingly snakes his hand into mine, gripping it firmly and giving it a shake. “Whatever you want, Vallie.” He grumbles sarcastically before walking off back to the set. 

He leaves me with my hand vacant and my eyes blinking at the wall he just stood in front of. I knew he wasn’t happy with me, but I didn’t know we’d end up starting over.

The music video that Noah had fast tracked was finally finished regardless of what the others felt. It was filmed and edited by Bryan with Noah glued to his side the whole time to make sure it followed his “vision” for it perfectly. It was hyper tuned into the details and nuances Noah was looking to cultivate for the prematurely released song.

Two weeks later, I hit post on the music video with the band scattered around the rehearsing studio, celebrating with beers and laughter. I roll my eyes playfully at the happy, excited actions that ensue behind me but bite down on my lip to keep myself from smiling. While it’s not everything they or I wanted, it’s still a damn good video and I’m proud of them for it. 

All entanglements aside, it’s the first time that I’ve felt like I truly helped them achieve something great. Their growth and publicity had been steady but incredibly slow despite all of my best efforts. Their initial boom from the band going viral months ago plateaued. I’ve been chalking it up to the lack of content, but the faint fear of chronic stagnation has been creeping up my ribs every so often. It’s something I warned them from the beginning - “Anyone can go viral, but it won’t last.” I recall telling them at the very start. “Don’t get attached to the numbers.” I told them that it burns bright for a split second then gets snuffed out by the next big thing to come along. But they didn’t listen to me, and I can see the disappointment and fear worsening in Noah’s features with each day that passes. It’s all made me wonder if there was even a place in the scene for them, or if what their label is trying to accomplish is possible. It made me question my ability to execute the task handed to me.

I posted all of the music video promotions across all forms of media and posted some of the pre-filmed short form content onto TikTok and Instagram. “Alright well, your part is done now, I’m just gonna keep working.”

I stand, beginning to gather all the papers scattered over the table. “With all the teasing I posted for the video and all the extra content we filmed, engagement has gone up by about 5%. I estimate it going up by about another 10-15% for the next couple of weeks while the music video gains traction.” I dropped the edges of the paperwork against the table a couple times to align them into a neat stack. “You’ve gained a significant amount of followers as well, at least compared to before the promo content.”

“Aw Vallie,” Bryan throws an arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug. “Is this your way of saying we did a good job?” 

A small smile tugs at one edge of my lips, “I’m just saying that the music video is projected to do really well.” I sink my teeth into my lip again, this time to keep from speaking but it fails. “And, I think you guys did a great job.” I rush the words out at the end.

The large grin is nearly identical across the five boys' faces, each one unique in their features, but the glow of finally birthing a new project is potent in all their smiles.

As they mingle about, I return my focus to my screen and sit back down. Likes and comments begin to pour in, faster than expected. The promo posts over the past couple weeks built up a significant amount of anticipation and excitement, I just didn’t expect it to gain momentum so fast. Compared to other clients, this engagement is nothing, a couple hundred comments within the first 30 minutes, but for them, it’s huge. I decide to keep it to myself for now to not get their hopes up too high since the numbers could plateau quickly. 

But before I exit completely, my eyes catch a couple comments that churn my stomach unexpectedly.

nobody told me the singer was so hot !!

damn he’s fine as fuck

oh my god Noah is so !!!!

the whole band is fine wtf 

god that bassist is sooo sexy

My eyes narrow and my teeth involuntarily clench at the last comment. A dull ache throbs in my chest at the words, a feeling I’m not quite sure I’ve ever experienced before. 

My plan to leverage their looks was working. This is exactly what I wanted, what I held meetings for, what I fought for, what I was hired for - so why does it suddenly feel like a loss?

I glance at Nicholas, who’s joking with the others, his face lit up with a carefree smile. My heart aches but, this is exactly what I wanted for him. For them. Yet, the jealousy gnaws at me, sharp and unrelenting. I want to be happy for them, I should be happy for them. But each comment feels like a tiny dagger, reminding me of what I’ve deprived myself of.

I exhale and close the lid to my laptop. I tap along the table just trying to shake my head from whatever confusion is clouding it. I just need to get out.

The group talks amongst themselves as they celebrate, and I inevitably fade into the background. I start gathering all my belongings to throw into my tote bag to hopefully make a quiet exit.

“You liked the music video?” A voice startles me from across the round table. 

I look up to find Noah. I quickly glance to the red solo cup he’s holding carefully in his hand. It makes me wonder what’s in it and if it will lead to the same aftermath I've seen before with a drunken Noah. It’s only when I look around that I realize that each of them has a drink in hand and they’ve put music on. 

“Yeah.” I shrug, “I think you guys did good.” 

“We, you mean.” He corrects.

“We?” 

“Yeah. You helped pick out the outfits and did all the promo stuff, did you not?” He raises a brow. 

“Yeah? I guess I did.” 

Noah rests his arm on a nearby high-top table, taking a sip of his drink. “We made a deal, you and I a while ago, do you remember it?” He questions.

I silently filter through our meetings in my mind. While working together we’ve made many deals, but I land on the one I know he’s talking about and a smile creeps across my lips. “‘I’ll do my job well, if you do yours.’” 

An unexpected wide grin pulls at his mouth, “Well, I think we both did our jobs well here.” 

He was right, we did. Looking back at the meeting just a few months ago seems so juvenile now. Noah was so angry about me being brought on to the crew and while I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily thrilled that I’m here now, I can tell that I’ve grown on him. I proved myself to him, at least a little bit. 

“Yeah, we did.” I nod with a genuine smile, “Proud of us.” 

He wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze, smiling down at me. “Me too.”

I leaned into him and caught a glimpse of Nicholas watching us both. The look on his face was flat and filled with an unreadable expression. 

My eyes flicker down immediately to avoid him then pull away from Noah’s grasp. He then goes on to ramble about music and the album, I’m not quite sure why he’s over here talking to me and not to the rest of them but, here I am. His words fade into the background as I look past him to spot Nick again. This time he’s caught up in some excited conversation between Brian and Folio. His wide smile meets his eyes filling them with such happiness as he laughs. His tattooed fingers interrupt the condensation on a beer bottle and his hair is gathered up into a low bun. He looks breathtaking and it suddenly fills me with a sadness I don’t think I’ll be able to beat here. 

I’ll never have the opportunity to be with him at a party like this, or out to dinner or have a normal, run-of-the-mill relationship. There’s a bit of heartbreak in watching him ensue in an interaction we may never have now that I’ve ruined everything.

But I ruined it for a reason, my brain reminds me.

I catch Nicholas’s eye. His smile falters, and for a moment, I think he senses my unease. I quickly look away, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The ache that makes home in my ribcage does not care for reason; its only concern is pain. It suddenly becomes unbearable, and I need to leave, now. I need to go home, I need to fucking get of out here.

 “I’m sorry, Noah but I have to go.” I hurriedly throw my bag over my shoulder and snatch my keys.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?” Noah asks, concerned.

“Yeah, I just… I need to go,” I say, my voice wavering as I avoid his gaze. “I have an important meeting I have to be home for.” My hand tightens around my keys so hard that the jagged edges dig into the flesh of my palm.

I stand up, the room spinning slightly as I do, despite not having anything to drink. I head for the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. I can feel Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look back.

Pushing through the front door, I take a deep breath of the cool night air, but it does little to calm the storm inside me. I walk quickly to my rental car, fumbling with the keys as tears blur my vision. Finally, I manage to unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat. 

As I drive home, the tears flow like rivers down my cheeks. The ache in my chest is relentless, a constant reminder of what I’ve given up and the lies I’ve told. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it. But the pain doesn’t care about reason or decisions. It only knows how to hurt.

I don’t stop driving until I reach my Airbnb. I stumble inside, dropping my bag on the floor and collapsing onto the couch. The tears flow freely now as I sink into the furniture, wishing things could be different but knowing they’ll never be. As much as I’d like to, I can’t undo my decision nor change the reasons behind it. As long as I work for them, Nick and I can never be anything more than just friends. Maybe in another life, there’s a him and I that work, but it’s not this one.

It doesn’t matter how much it hurts seeing him at events, or getting comments in videos, or even just being around him. He’s not mine and he can’t be. I’m not what he wants anyway, his career is just taking off the last thing he needs is to be entangled with someone who wants more than just sex. Is that even what I want? I barely even have time to fucking cry in the car, how would I balance a relationship?

Mourning the loss of what could’ve been is hard, but an inevitable breakup would be worse. However, just because I chose the lesser of two evils doesn’t mean it’s easy.

I glance at the time on my watch and scramble when I realize I’m late for my meeting. Unfortunately, I didn’t lie to Noah about that.

Flipping open my laptop, I’m right on time when the zoom call rushes in. I wipe the remnants of my tears and allow myself one more sniffle before answering.

The bright, shining faces of my original clients light up the screen. With drinks and cigars in hand, they greet me with their usual exuberance. They’re getting one last party in before they leave for tour soon. It’s the first tour I haven’t joined them on since working for them. The realization that I’m not going with them mingled with the feelings I just ran away from only worsens the pain in my torso. There’s nothing more I wish to do than to just run off with them to Europe and forget all about this mess with Nick. But I have too much on my plate to be touring with them right now, so I’m working remotely for them temporarily.

Their naturally cheery demeanors lift my spirits, and while it is still a work call, they always seem to make work fun. It makes me wish even more that I was going with them. Working for them has always been easy and enjoyable. The stark contrast between them and Omens is jarring. While we do have a longer history, Greta has always felt comforting, uplifting and loving – like family. I always feel valued and appreciated, and I never have to question my belonging with them.

Omens, on the other hand, has been nothing but complicated, painful, and uncomfortable. Instead of feeling like I’m part of something, I often feel like I’m navigating through a minefield between Noah’s volatility and Nick’s complexity. It’s hard to feel motivated when the environment is so hostile, and it leaves me questioning my place and purpose. Up until recently that is – things seem to be looking up now that Noah and I are getting along.

Comparing the two bands makes me long for the simplicity and warmth of Greta even more. The comfort and camaraderie I immediately feel when answering the zoom only highlights the cold, challenging reality of working with Omens. It’s a reminder of what I’m lacking and a painful acknowledgment of the complication of my current situation. The situation I put myself in.

Yet, Noah’s words ring in my ears, “We did our jobs well.” Perhaps it’s not as bleak as it once was. The memory of our truce plants a seed of hope in my chest. Maybe Bryan was right, that they just need time to come around.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The bassist, Sam, jokes, pulling me out of my thoughts. The bright white of my screen flashing on my pale face in the darkness of my living room can’t be doing me any favors.

“You need a drink, Val?” Jake, the other long-haired guitarist asks, raising an enticing drink in a short glass.

“Maybe a smoke? You are in California after all.” The shaggy-haired singer, Josh, teases.

I force a smile and shake my head. “I would kill for both of those right now. Just a fucking exhausting day.”

“I know, our girl’s makin’ it big, taking on new bands, new quests.” Jake states in a dramatic, faux-English accent. “On to new horizons.” His arm splays out theatrically to a non-existent skyline.

“Leavin’ us behind!” Sam adds loudly in a whiny tone as he takes a sip of his cocktail.

The last words shoving a sword into my gut. Maybe Nick isn’t the only loss I’m mourning. Working for Greta has consumed my entire life for years, they’re the closest thing to family I’ve got. Perhaps not being engulfed in them constantly has left me lonely.

I roll my eyes lightheartedly and shake my head, “I could never leave you guys, you know that.” Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “How are you guys feeling about the tour?”

Their excitement is infectious, and I find myself relaxing a bit as they talk about their plans and the cities they’ll visit. For a moment, I forget about Nick and the tangled mess of emotions he brings.

“Hey, Val!” Josh shouts, raising a glass snapping me out of my haze. “We’re going to miss you on this one!”

“Yeah, it won’t be the same without you,” The quiet drummer, Danny, chimes in.

I force a smile, trying to push the sadness aside. “I’ll miss you guys too. But I’ll be there in spirit, and we’ll keep in touch. You know I’ll be checking in every day.”

They laugh and raise their glasses in a toast, their contagious energy making it a little easier to breathe.

The boys filter out, saying their goodbyes to entertain the other guests at their party.

“Yeah, I’ll catch up to you guys later. I have to ask Vallie about something.” Sam waves the boys away.

He turns in his chair to face me, a look of concern washed over his face as he tucks a chunk of long hair behind his ear. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off?” He asks softly.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "I'm fine, Sammy. Just a lot going on."

He looks at me for a long moment, his puppy-dog eyes filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need anything. We're all going to miss you on this tour, but we understand why you can't come."

I nod, "I know. Thanks, Sam," I reply, with a tight smile. "I appreciate it."

Under other circumstances, I would maybe try to talk to them but they’re so excited for Europe, I can’t possibly weigh them down with anything serious.

He gives me a reassuring smile. "Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need to vent or anything, just call. We're all here for you, we love you a lot."

"Thanks," I say again, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I will. I love you guys too."

With one last nod, Sam ends the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts and letting reality crash back in. I close my laptop and lean back in my seat, staring at the other side of the vacant couch. The room feels emptier than before, the silence more suffocating. I can’t shake the feeling of being left behind, both professionally and personally.

I set my laptop on the coffee table and pull a blanket over my body in hopes that it would help me disappear. I curl up in the corner of the couch with my knees up to my chest. I haven’t felt heartache like this since high school and it’s over something that was never even serious. My mind keeps drifting back to Nick, to the hurt and anger in his eyes when I pushed him away. I know it was the right decision, but the pain is parasitic in a way I was never prepared for.

I blink at the blank wall in front of me. I’m not home, I’m not with friends or anyone I know. I work for a band that half hates me most days, I fell for a boy I can’t have and I’m staying in a pay-by-weekly Airbnb. I’m alone in a city I hate, in a home that’s not my own with people who barely like me. That’s when I realize that perhaps heartache isn’t the only pain that sits heavy in my heart – it’s also the weight of loneliness that’s been consuming me, rotting me from the inside out.

Only when I acknowledge the seclusion is when it wraps around me like a suffocating shroud, seeping into my very core and eroding my sense of self.

I close my eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I have to keep moving forward, despite the overwhelming difficulty and the sadness in my bones. There’s a faint flicker of hope buried somewhere beneath the despair, a small, stubborn, workaholic part of me that refuses to give up. For now, I hold on to that glimmer, however faint, and vow to take things one step at a time.

This was the 4th rehearsal in a row that I’ve attended this week, and while it never gets old watching their sets, the content becomes repetitive. So, while the boys are playing and Bryan snaps shots of them, I scroll through Zillow.

I don’t even notice that they’re done until Nicholas is beside me cracking a water bottle open. “What’re you lookin’ at?” He asks. Slowly but surely, we’ve been making our way back up to being friendly, despite the break down I had weeks ago after the music video launch. If I just focus on the work, I can almost stifle down our history. Almost.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” I chuckle but it soon fades with the frustration that’s built up over the past couple days. “Augh, I have to find an apartment or something because this Airbnb is getting so expensive. My other client’s tour just started, and I just took on another band, so I’m stuck here for a while. But I can’t fucking find an apartment building that doesn’t have a waitlist before next fall.”

“Shit sucks around here.” Chimes in Jolly from the corner taking a sip of his Gatorade.

“Here let me see.” Nick swivels my laptop towards him before I have a chance to stop him. He holds his tongue between his lips with his brows furrowed, like he’s focused on some super spy mission. He scrolls for a while, adds some filters, scrolls, takes more filters out, then turns the laptop back to me. “Ta da!” He smiles his signature grin and it’s nice to see it in my direction again.

“Whoa, how the fuck did you find that!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I scroll through the listing, it having almost everything I was looking for. “Oh my god, they’re doing a showing for a perfect place right now, I gotta go.” I hastily begin packing my things up, haphazardly throwing all my scattered belongings into my tote.

“Whoa whoa,” Halts Jolly, “You’re not going alone.”

I furrow my brows at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Listen, do you know how unsafe it is for a woman to go to realty showings alone?” His voice is so filled with genuine concern and a splash of paranoia.

“You need to stop watching so much true crime dude.” Folio rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s obsessed.” Bryan adds with a pointed thumb towards the long-haired man. 

I blink up at Jolly who’s face is dead serious. “We’re coming with you.”

I normally wouldn’t let men tell me what to do or how to do it, but maybe Jolly is right. Men are dangerous especially around here and I have also heard horror stories about women going to check out a house and it turning out to be a sketchy place with an equally creepy man.

“Okay.” I nod. “Fine.”

Looking over the four of them, I realize that Noah had already disappeared. He’s been cutting out immediately after each rehearsal, so I think nothing of it.

“I got nothing better to do.” Shrugs Nicholas. I don’t look too much at him because if I did, I would notice the strain behind his eyes - one that looks both pained and conflicted. 

Arriving at the open house, I walk around the small loft, letting my fingers trail over the cracked railing of the stairs. The apartment is smaller, dingier and dustier than advertised. When I make it upstairs, the 4 are up there already. I catch them looking unimpressed, almost disgusted at the place but immediately feign impression for my sake.

“It’s…pretty nice, Vallie.” Says Folio, with a forced smile.

“Oh, spare me, it’s a dump.” I sigh, defeated. “The asking price is like double with all the fees and shit. It’s ridiculous.” I rub two fingers into my temple. “I don’t know what I’m gonna fucking do.”

There’s a bit of silence filled with pitiful faces from the group. Nicholas’ eyes look focused but lost in thought. Before any of them could speak, Bryan perks up. 

“My old room in the house is empty since I moved out last year. Why doesn’t she just move in with you guys?” He suggests as if it’s the most obvious answer. 

My mouth nearly falls open at the insane suggestion. The trio’s focus snaps to him with the most shocked and betrayed looks on their faces, brows raised and jaws open. 

“What?” I ask for clarification, because he couldn’t possibly be serious.

Bryan ignores their reactions. “Exactly what I said. It just makes sense? You’re with them all the time.”

“I uh-“ I falter, somewhat overwhelmed with the four of them looking at me. “I mean, it really seems like that’s a group decision…”

“I’m cool with it.” Folio surprisingly speaks up first, “We do have the spare room and we could use the extra rent money. You take a lot of Ubers to get to us anyway, so.”

For once Folio seemed to be cooperative, nice even. Maybe they are warming up to me afterall.

Jolly sighs heavily, “They have good points. It would be convenient but… Noah’s not going to be happy.”

Anxiety wins over the excitement dying to bloom in my stomach as I look over and meet Nick’s gaze. His eyes contain the same pained and confused look as before. He’s conflicted.

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what Noah wants. He’s outnumbered 4-1.” Nick snaps. “She needs a place, and we have one.”

I tug at my lip and contemplate my options. This would be the easiest and cheapest path. “Okay fine. Just for now. I’m gonna keep looking so I don’t overstay my welcome.” I meet eyes with each one sternly. “Thank you.”

I’m grateful for the offer but I can’t help but be nervous about being so close to Nicholas all of the time. The room I’d be staying in is the empty room between Noah and Nicholas’ rooms. I’d be between the two I would least like to be around. I contemplate backing out for a brief moment but quickly remember how much the Airbnb is costing me weekly. As much as I value my independence and solitude, it’s just not worth the cost and isn’t sustainable. The last thing I ever want to do is live with them, but it seems to be the only good option right now.

A week later, the boys help carry the last of my boxes up the stairs while I warn them about how if they break anything they’ll be paying for it.

Nick, Jolly, and Folio are all out of breath as they set down my boxes.

“Jesus, how do you have so many boxes of stuff from that tiny Airbnb?” Folio asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

I shrug, “I had some of my stuff from home shipped out to me, since I’m staying in Cali longer than I expected.”

Jolly and Folio filter out leaving me alone with Nicholas. I’m immediately on my toes around him. Just being in the house with him is difficult. The only other two times I’ve been here, we’ve slept together - once on the couch downstairs and another in the room beside us now. It’s hard not thinking about having him that way again with those reminders all around me. The memories pack a punch not just in my core but in my heart as well. We’ve just started to get back to normal after our little falling out. But what even is back to normal with us? Were we ever really normal?

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asks though it doesn’t seem forced or ingenuine.

I ponder the offer as I shift on my feet but ultimately shake my head. “Not now. I don’t know if I’m going to fully unpack yet, since I’m still looking for another place.”

He nods, seeming somewhat unhappy about my response. “Okay well, if you need help with anything, let me know.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you.” I scratch my arm anxiously and pause before I speak again. “I feel bad… I know Noah’s unhappy because I’m here.”

Nicholas sucks in a breath. “Yeah, he’s not happy. But I don’t really know what else to say to him. Maybe you should talk to him.”

I let out a laugh. “Yeah fucking right. I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to talk to right now.”

“You never know. It might help.” He steps towards the door to leave. “I think we’re gonna order Chinese for dinner. You cool with that?”

I nod and he reciprocates before leaving the room downstairs. 

I take a deep breath and shake out the nerves from my hands as I walk to Noah’s door. I give it a knock and wait for a response.

“Come in.” He calls and I peek through the cracked door.

He rolls his eyes and glares at me. “Great, it’s you.”

“You know you don’t have to be like that.” I say calmly while I push the door open more and lean against the door frame.

He doesn’t even look at me and keeps his eyes on the TV across from his bed where he lays. His hands are diligently working on a gaming controller. I can’t help but notice how his long-tattooed fingers rapidly and strategically click on the buttons. Something about it creates a slight buzz between my legs.

“You just invited yourself into my home. I think I have some right to talk to you any way I want to.” He retorts.

“I didn’t invite myself; I was invited. By your bandmates, your best friends. But you know that already. You’re just being an asshole.”

“Again, this is my house. I can be an asshole in my house if I want to. This is what you signed up for. But you know that already.” He mocks me with my own words.

I try my best to keep my bubbling anger from spilling. We had been doing so well since the thrift store, but it seems that we’re back to square one all over again.

“I’m not trying to be here forever, alright? This is temporary. Like I want to be here any more than you want me to be. Believe it or not, this isn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.” I sigh, trying to keep my composure. “I’m just trying to make the best of it while I’m here, okay? Can we agree to just be civil?”

He glares at me, but I know he knows that I’m right. “No promises.”

As I look around my new room, I suddenly feel closed in by the towers of boxes that surround me. I should’ve waited until after I signed some sort of apartment lease before having some of my stuff shipped from New York. I was just homesick for a place of my own again, that I wanted my belongings outside of what fits inside a couple carry-on suitcases. I’ve been living out of suitcases for longer than I’ve ever wanted and so maybe unpacking some of my clothes and things wouldn’t hurt much. Afterall, I could always just repack them. When I stand and find that some of the towers are even taller than me, I recognize that I might need help afterall. 

I find myself in front of Nick’s door and a nervous feeling swirls in my stomach that I try to ignore. 

This is a bad idea, I think to myself.

But it’s too late. My knuckles have already met the door. 

After a couple moments, Nick opens the door with a gaming headset pulled off his ear and a controller in his hand. It’s clear by the way his eyebrows drop that he was expecting anyone but me. The look is enough to make me back out of my own decision. 

“Oh, sorry to bother you, you’re obviously busy, nevermind!” I ramble quickly in a way I rarely do - but I rarely feel the way I do with him. Mid-turn to get back to my room he unexpectedly grasps my wrist, not hard but not soft either, enough to keep me in place. 

“What’s up?” He asks and I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or genuinely curious. 

“Oh, um, well, you see,” 

Fucking get it together 

“I was going to ask if I could take you up on your offer? To help me unpack?” I already regret the words before they leave my mouth. “But if you’re busy it’s no big deal!!” 

“I, uh, yeah. Sure. Let me just finish this round and I’ll come help.” He begins pulling his headset back on before I can fully answer.

“Oh, yeah sure. Take your time!” 

He closes his door, and I dart to my room, immediately pacing the small amount of floor I have available.

Why did I fucking do that?

“You okay?” His voice speaks from the doorway where he’s propped up against. 

I nearly jump out of my skin, not expecting him there so soon. It makes me wonder if he had just quit his game instead of finishing it like he said. 

“Oh, yeah yeah.” I wave him off. “I always get nervous with moves.” 

It was a lie. With my job, I’ve had to get used to moving often, so it doesn’t phase me any more. But with the shake in my voice, I know it wasn’t a great sell. 

“Right.” He replies skeptically, pushing himself off the frame. “What did you need help with?”

“I need that box up there.” I point to the box above my head. “And that one.” I gesture to the one right beside it at the same height. “And that one.”

He chuckles at how the boxes seem like skyscrapers to me, “Okay sure.” 

He pulls each one down with ease. 

“Anything else?” He asks. 

I sink down to the floor behind one of the large boxes. “I’m just gonna start unpacking these, if you wanna help.” I shrug up at him. 

Nick looks over at another box, grabbing something before handing it out to me. “I think you might need this.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks at the mistake, “Thank you.” I lift up and take the box cutter from him. 

I thought that would be the limit of his contribution but to my surprise, he sits down across from me. When I give him a confused look he simply jokes, “I’m really interested in what the fuck are in all these boxes.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep a grin from spreading across my lips. After our conversation at the music video shoot, this is the last thing I expected him to do. 

I’m still sat on the floor with half empty boxes while Nick acts as the fuel to the operation, putting things wherever I direct him. He slides a chunk of books into a bookshelf that was left behind. Books are always the first thing I like to unpack after the necessities. They're so personal and really give a space a real essence of you. I’m only unpacking my favorites to display for now since I don’t know how long my stay will be.

“You sure do have a lot of books about pirates?” He states quizzically, with an arched brow and a chuckle. 

“Oh,” I laugh, “Yeah, one of my clients really loves them for some reason.” I gesture to the books he just shelved. “I get one of those every Christmas. Those and a box of fancy cigars.”

His eyes look over the spines of the grandiose black leather books. “You’ve been with them a long time.” He observes each one, then looks over at me. “6 Christmases.” 

I blink up at him because there’s no way it’s been 6 years already. Logically, I knew I’ve accumulated a large stack of those books, but it isn’t until now that it clicks. “Wow. You’re right. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” 

“They’re lucky to have you.” He says, crouching down to get more books. “You’ve done so good for us so far, I can’t imagine what your main act gets.” 

The statement feels almost double edged, though it doesn’t seem that he intended it that way. It’s simple and meant to be flattering but it just settles a guilt in my bones. It sounds like he believes that Omens aren’t a priority, which isn’t true. 

“It’s not like that.” I scoff, handing him another set of non-pirate books.

“Oh sure, as if you don’t prioritize Harry Styles over us.” He shoots back playfully.

The Harry bit has gone so far that it makes me wonder if they truly believe it, it would be hilarious if they did. 

“You know I don’t manage him. Wish I did though.” I laugh, shaking my head. I grab another couple books and tug at my lip contemplating whether I should start some lighthearted competition. “You know… Noah guessed my ‘mystery client’.” 

A mischievous smirk blooms on my lips when Nick’s brows raise with an, “Oh did he now?” 

I nod, “Yep! Gonna have to step up your game I guess.” I shrug jokingly.

“Well, I’m either gonna have to go shake him down or,” He points to the room next door with the box cutter then looks at the mess around us. “Or I’m just gonna have to keep unpacking until I figure it out.” 

A giggle escapes me and a warmth blooms in my tummy. I hate that this is how my body reacts to him, but I quickly snuff it out. “I guess so.” 

As he continues to help me, the room overflows with laughter, and I can’t remember ever having fun unpacking. I try not to dwell on the way I feel when I look at him for too long. If I can just push aside the flutter in my chest when he crinkles his nose, or when he smiles wide and sparkles fill his eyes, or when he makes my name sound like music — if I can just move past all of that, then maybe living here won’t be so bad. Perhaps friendship with Nick wouldn’t be so difficult if it looks like this. 

The first week was awkward and uncomfortable and foreign, but the boys acclimated faster than I imagined - which, thinking about it now, made sense. They’d spent the better half of their lives being forced to live with random people for unforeseen periods of time. They just moved around me, and I moved around them, we all were on different schedules and busy doing other things better than paying attention to each other. Outside of rehearsals or meetings, I rarely saw them. The boys have an affinity for the nighttime while I’ve been operating on three different world clocks due to my other clients touring in different countries. 

I found that juggling three bands when I was barely managing two, was becoming quite taxing. I usually pride myself on my work ethic and multi-tasking skills, but it’s wearing on me in ways I’ve never experienced before. My sleep schedule is basically nonexistent, having to be awake for California, Europe, and Australia times simultaneously. I work between cat naps and run off of at least 4 cups of coffee daily. While work has been miserable, it’s definitely helped keep my mind distracted.

After a much-needed shower and a fresh set of button-down pajamas, I follow the smell of pizza downstairs. I find the boys gathered around the kitchen.

“Hey Val.” Folio smiles then falters, “You look fucking exhausted.” He shakes his head apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just - help yourself, there’s plenty. Noah can put away like three pies on his own.” He chuckles nervously, pushing past me to the living room. 

“Think of it as your belated welcome party.” Jolly says before taking a bite, leaning against the counter. 

“Thanks.” I smile but it doesn’t meet my eyes when I notice Nick remained silent and Noah’s absent.

Jolly nudges my shoulder as he walks out of the kitchen, “Noah’s picking out a movie for us, if you wanna join.” 

“Cool.” I nod, fidgeting with my fingers. As much as I’d love to protest wasting my time, all I need to do right now is sit and turn my brain off for an hour or two. 

“Can’t guarantee it’ll be any good if Noah’s picking.” He calls over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” Shouts Noah from the couch. 

The edges of my lips curl up slightly at the interaction but quickly fall. Even though it's been about a week, this is the first actual night of us all together. It’s only then that it settles in my bones the reality of the move.

I precariously pluck a slice from a half-eaten pie and plop it on a paper plate. “You uh,” I thumb over my shoulder. “Stayin’ for the movie?”

He pushes himself off the granite counter. “I was planning on it, yeah.” He peels another slice from the round and places it on his already full plate. He’s in a dark hoodie for a band I’ve never heard of with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, showing off all the beautiful ink on his arms. I try not to let my eyes linger too long on the way his fingers fold the slice in half. “You?” 

I steal a water bottle from the fridge and lean against the counter. “Yeah, if he picks a good movie.” I tease. 

He nods and makes his way out of the kitchen. 

I shake my head to wake myself up some more and meet the rest of them in the living room. My feet are the first to freeze when my eyes land on the screen. Noah chose the same indie horror movie that Nick and I had chosen the night he stayed in with me. How he managed to find and decide on the same random movie we did, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is the way my heart feels like it fell into my stomach. My hand grips the plate, and my eyes instinctively search for Nick. His gaze meets mine, the look in his eyes about matches my own before he hardens it. His jaw clenches and he focuses back on finding his place on the couch. 

When I finally make my way over, I find there’s only one seat left between Noah and Nicholas. I take a silent but deep inhale before squeezing between them. The close proximity to Nicholas sends a familiar, anxious thrill through me, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the moment. We’re friends now. Colleagues. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We’ve only ever been colleagues.

“Alright, everyone shut up.” Noah waves a lanky arm around with the remote clutched in his hand. “Movie time!” 

Folio reaches up and flips the lights off to cast an eerie darkness across the room, perfect for the mood of the movie. As the opening credits roll, my heart drops sharply and makes the idea of the pizza on my plate nauseating. The memory hits me like a wave, threatening to pull me under. I can see it so clearly in my head - us sharing two different kinds of chips, Doritos and Cheetos. I can hear the storm that raged that night, the one that kept him from leaving. I remember vividly the conversation we had about having that team-building party. I can hear him promising that the boys would come around. I blink quickly to keep tears from spilling down my cheeks. The last thing I need is to cry in front of them. 

Noah nudges me with his elbow. “You okay? You look a little pale.” He asks with a smirk, teasing me as if I was already scared fifteen minutes into the movie. In the corner of my eye, I can see Nick glance over at us, trying to disguise the fact he’s obviously eavesdropping. 

“Yeah, just... tired.” I half-lie, giving him a weak smile while keeping my eyes on the tv.

“Sure, scaredy cat.” He laughs, returning his focus to the screen.

The movie continues, and I’m transported back to that rainy night. I wasn’t nervous that entire night until we were sitting criss-crossed next to each other watching this specific scene before the first jumpscare. The flutter of nerves didn’t find home in my belly until we both jolted at the perfectly timed jumpscare and our knees ended up pressed together for the rest of the night. I remember the way his hand brushed against mine, the way we laughed and screamed at all the right moments. Sitting here now, with him so close yet so far, is torture. 

As the film progresses, I can’t help but notice Nicholas shifting slightly in his seat. His arm brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I hope no one else notices my reaction. It’s jumpy and juvenile, the way we both try our best not to have any part of our body touching for too long. 

Halfway through the movie, a particularly frightening scene makes everyone scream and laugh at each other’s fear. Nicholas turns to me, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, something that tells me he remembers too. But then he looks away, and the moment vanishes.

The rest of the movie is a blur. I’m too focused on the memories, the emotions, and the painful reality that the past is just that—the past. When the credits finally roll, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and everything is suffocating and tight. 

Folio reaches up from his seat in the recliner and flicks the light back on. “Jesus fucking christ, Noah.”

“What the fuck.” Echoes Jolly.

Noah grins widely, obviously proud of his peculiar choice. “You’re welcome.” 

“It was great.” I rush the words out and quickly push myself off the couch. “I need to get some air. Excuse me.”

A cackle erupts from Noah, “Musta scared the shit out of her.” 

As I speed to the front door, I hear someone smack him with a pillow and Nick’s voice telling him not to be an ass.

I nearly burst through the front door and find salvation in gripping the porch railing. For a moment I question if I might actually get ill. Never in my adult life have I ever felt such visceral agony over another human being, nonetheless a man. The cool night air brings a welcome relief and finally I feel like I can suck in a full breath.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the door open behind me and my heart races when Nick appears in my peripheral. Fuck. 

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice almost trembling.

He pulls something from his pocket, flipping the top open and holding out a box of Newports to me. “Want one?” 

I sigh, contemplating it even though I haven't touched a cigarette since college, but god do I need it now. “Thanks.” I pluck a cig from the box and place it between my lips. I cup the end from the wind while he flicks the lighter for me. The second it’s sizzling and lit I take a much-needed deep inhale, letting the nicotine fill every gap in my lungs giving me a split second of reprieve. 

I close my eyes as I exhale, hoping the smoke would take the pain that sits in my chest. For a moment, we stand there in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. The sounds of the night filled the quiet, frogs croaking and far off traffic from the city. 

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his warmth and the smoke of his cigarette. “I remember that night, you know.”

I pause, swallowing hard. “Me too.”

The ache in my chest is palpable, like it sits between each individual rib. I feel it in my bones, in my veins, in my fucking marrow. 

When I made the decision to distance myself, to hurt him, I thought it was the best decision for us all. I had no idea it would hurt this bad. It hardly seems like a good idea now. 

Every part of my body tenses up like a muscle throbbing in pain. My index and middle fingers involuntarily squish the cigarette, and my fists tighten. I have no reason to feel this way, I did this. 

“Val,” he says, his voice breaking through my turmoil. “We never really… talked.”

I bite my lip hard, the cigarette trembling between my fingers. “What’s there to talk about, Nick?” I can’t bear to look up at him. 

“Us, Vallie.” He says more sternly this time, turning to me fully. “You just shut me out. And I got upset so I walked away, but we didn’t talk about it.” 

Of course, the only man I fall for is the one that actually wants to talk about his feelings. 

“We made a choice, Nick.” I grind my teeth to ward off tears, keeping my gaze focused on a far off tree. 

He shakes his head, stepping even closer. “No, you made a choice. And I went along with it because I thought it was what you wanted. But standing here now like this… I can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake.”

I close my eyes and exhale. All I want to do is give in to him, tell him he’s right, that I did make a mistake. But my reasoning and logic remains the same. 

The words hang in the air, heavier than the smoke around us. I don’t dare look up at him, tears blurring my vision. “Maybe I did. But we can’t. And I told you,” I pause, giving myself one final second to rethink my decision. “I’m seeing someone.”

He snuffs his cigarette out on the wood railing then grasps my shoulder harshly, turning my body to face him. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least do it to my face.”

I drop my own cigarette from the sudden action, and he quickly stomps it out for me. My eyes widen at his words and his shift in demeanor. I blink up at him and shake my head. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.” He takes a step forward causing me to step backwards, closing me into the porch railing. His hand finds my jaw holding it firmly in place, analyzing me with furrowed brows. It runs an ice-cold shiver down my spine. “I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice.”

My chest rises and falls rapidly. “I am, seeing someone Nick. I’m happy.” I lie through my teeth even though it’s useless. 

“No, you’re not, Vallie.” His words are sharp and intentional. “Look at you.” He gestures over my body. “You’re shaking through a cigarette just because you’re standing next to me.” 

“God.” A tear slips down my cheek and I try to take a breath, but I feel even more suffocated than before. “Fuck, Nick.” I harshly push him away. I look between us and still for a moment before tears prickle my eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t fucking do this.”

I rush past him, through the front door, and don’t stop running until I close my bedroom door behind me. I slump against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. The weight of everything crashes down on me, and I bury my face in my hands.

“FUCK,” I scream, the sound muffled by my palms to not be heard by anyone else. The tears come hard and fast, my shoulders shaking with each sob. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. The pain is unbearable, and all I can do is cry.

Thankfully the boys had already gone to bed the night of me and Nick’s fight, so we didn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions. I cried, got it out of my system, and isolated the emotions into a little folder I tucked into my heart, just as I did the last time. Although, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t getting more and more difficult. Two weeks later, I’m still avoiding Nick, but I don’t act like a scrambling mouse any time he enters the room. Tensions have calmed down and it’s impressive how much can be hidden behind a mask. 

Today, I’m tearing the kitchen apart looking for a measuring cup, how they’ve made it this far without a measuring cup, I have no idea. 

As I’m bent over into a lower cabinet, I spot Nicholas in my peripheral. Obviously, he’s the one I’d been avoiding the most but the feeling was mutual, us rarely interacting with each other after movie night. We barely spoke to each other during meetings and avoided each other around the house. 

“Looking for something?” He asks with a bit of condescension in his tone. 

The comment immediately irritates me as I’d been hungrily searching for this goddamn utensil for the past half hour and all I fucking want are pancakes on my day off. I bite my tongue in order to not snap at him and back out of the cabinet, standing up. “Would you happen to know where a girl could find a goddamn measuring cup around here?” My irritated tone greatly outweighed Nick’s more subtle one.

His brows raised, shocked that I’d even speak that way, nonetheless to him. His brows didn’t stay up though, they fell rather quickly into thick, straight lines. The way his face turned cold so quickly made me shiver with a fear crawling up my back. “I know you’re not speaking to me that way in my own house.” 

Immediately, I want to rival it but try my best to stifle it down. However, the feeling was too strong. “I know you aren’t talking to me like that, period.” Crossing my arms over my chest and raising a brow at him. 

He steps towards me, “With work? Sure, I can play nice. Outside of work? I can talk to you however I want.” 

My brows furrow at his sudden hostility. Even though we’d been avoiding each other, things have been calm and professional. He’s never spoken to me like this before and while I’m used to dealing with intimidating industry men on my own, the darkness in his tone has my heart thumping in fear. For the sake of my self-respect, I square my shoulders and straighten my back. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” 

“Or what?” He provokes, stepping even closer to me. “You work for us, remember? You’re nothing more than a glorified assistant.” 

My jaw practically drops to the floor and red-hot anger rushes through my veins. I hear the smack first, ringing through the kitchen before I feel the static-y stinging in my palm. I gasp and bring my hands to my mouth while I watch him quickly reach for his reddening cheek. I instinctively want to apologize but, he deserved it. 

When his eyes return to mine, they’re the darkest gray I’ve ever seen them and the fearful thumping in my chest returns. He steps forward, backing me into the corner of the cabinets and the air in my lungs vacates when I look up to find his eyes burning holes in my body. My eyes widen at the sudden, unexpected action. “Nick.” I tremble out in the space between us. 

“You think you can just move in and run shit.” He taunts, his voice low and gravelly. “Haven’t even been in the house a month and you’re already acting up.” 

The fight or flight response in my body begs me to cry, to apologize and shove him away but the burning lava in my bloodstream demands otherwise. I clench my jaw matching the intensity of his stare. “I’m an adult Nicholas, I can do whatever the fuck I want in the home I pay to live in.” 

His hands land on the granite countertop at each side of my hips. “You have one hell of a fucking attitude today.”

The energy shifts into something slightly less aggressive and more sensual. As much as it should disgust me after all the shit he just pulled, it has my thighs pressing together. 

I cock my head at him, and in a tone that borders on innocent, I challenge him, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

His hand goes to touch my hip but stops short, stopping himself. We both know the lie I told him, but it seems like he might’ve actually believed it afterall. He lowered to just below my ear. “If I could, I’d make sure the only thing coming out of that bratty little mouth of yours are those pretty noises you make.” He whispers, his voice low and raspy.

His words went straight to my core, filling it with rampant buzzing. The war in my head waged between keeping up with my plan versus just giving into him like I always seem to do. However, it seemed as though the wetness pooling between my legs was winning.

I must’ve taken too long for him, long enough to crack his resolve just a bit. He pressed his forehead against mine, forcing my focus up to him. The look in his eyes had switched to something softer than before, if I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a hint of sadness in his crystal grey eyes. “Can I touch you?” He asks barely above a whisper and when I don’t answer immediately, he begs again. “I need to touch you, Val.” His voice carried what sounded like a deep desperation, and it all yanked at my heart - but guilt was a beast for a different time. 

Truth is, that I feel the same desperation as he does. I nod quickly against him, “Touch me.” I cave into him, like I always do. “Touch me, touch me, touch me.” I repeat softly before his lips clash into mine and his hands finally meet my hips, immediately pulling me onto the counter. As soon as the coolness of the granite meets my thighs, my eyes round at the realization that we’re in the kitchen. I pull away before he has a chance to deepen the kiss, “The others.” I breathe out urgently with wide eyes down at him.

He shakes his head quickly, “They’re out of the city for the day.” 

It could’ve been a bold face lie, but that’s all the reassurance I need to proceed on our poor decision. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip and I oblige faster than I’d like to admit. Our tongues find each other and begin to entwine themselves. He grasps my hips and pulls me to the edge of the counter to press himself against me. I can’t help but let out a tiny moan into his mouth at the feeling of his covered erection pressing into my clothed center. 

His hands trail up my sides to cup my cheeks before parting from me, “You feel what you do to me?” Soft but needy pants through parted lips fall on my own.

My heaving chest and my pathetic excuse for a nod was enough for him to rejoin our lips. I wrap my arms around his neck tugging him even closer. Our tongues fight for dominance but he’s winning, and his thumbs dig into my hip bones in an almost painful way, as if he’s scared I’ll vanish from his grasp. 

My fingers find their way into his hair that’s wrapped up in a loose bun and dig my nails into the roots, letting out a small sigh against his lips. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee in the best way.

I pull away for a moment and let my focus move from his lips back up to his eyes. My hands glide over the waistband of his jeans, dipping two fingers behind the zipper and pulling it towards my body. “I thought you had a lesson to teach me?”

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he processes my words. His fingers snap to my thighs, digging harshly into the flesh before spreading them apart as far as they’d allow. Warmth tinted my cheeks at the action, feeling exposed. I’m still clothed but now it’s just the thin fabric of my panties keeping the most intimate part of me covered. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen before, but it still feels vulnerable. 

“Tell me, what lesson do you think you need to learn?” He asks me while his fingertips urge my lower back to move further to the edge of the counter. 

“Hmm,” I feign thinking hard about the answer. “I think that you think it should be my mouth, but I don’t think that.”

“Oh, no?” He questions, “Is there anything you do that makes you think you deserve a lesson?”

“Nope.” I reply with cheery innocence. 

“That’s interesting, because you’re massively overdue for one.” He tugs my legs so close to him it almost pulls me off the counter. 

He leans down and presses a kiss just below my ear, then trails it down my neck. My heart beats so fast against my ribcage I fear it could burst. 

While his hands roam and grope anywhere they land, he’s buried in my neck sucking marks into it. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, mumbling against my skin and makes my heart rate skip a beat or two. 

I tilt my head back and scrunch my eyes closed. We shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, nonetheless, saying these sorts of things to each other, but it seems neither of us care enough to remember why. 

I tangle my fingers in his hair, giving it a gentle tug and nudging my head against his. “I’ve missed you too, Nicky.” 

He pauses the same way I did but this time he moves back up to rejoin our lips. 

There’s a couple words that linger in the back of my throat - words I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him. Words that I’m not sure make sense for us or if they’re just the chemicals rushing through me. But I want to say them, and I’m scared that if I go to say anything at all they might tumble out. 

His hands find and tug at my shirt which I quickly pull away and discard it across the room. I take the opportunity to do the same with him. I catch the hem of his shirt, and he stills. I realize in the two times we’ve slept together, I’ve never seen him shirtless. That combined with the way he hesitated when I went to pull it off makes me think he might be uncomfortable. “May I?” 

He hesitates but nods and lets me be the one to pull it off him. He’s tattooed all over his chest just as he is on his arms, and it makes me want to go exploring all over his body. Our lips reunite and our tongues reconnect before I get a chance to compliment his appearance. I work quickly at undoing his jeans while he struggles to pull down my skirt.

Finally, bare to each other, he pulls me taut against him to make sure I can feel just how much he’s missed me. He nestles his thick shaft between my folds, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed that part of him too. I let a small whine slip into our kiss at the feeling of him throbbing against my clit. 

He disconnects from me only to press his forehead against mine, “I need to be inside you.” There’s a greater feeling behind his claim, more akin to ‘I need to be as close to you as possible’.

“I need you, please.” I reply, sounding more desperate than I would’ve liked. 

Now, not my brightest moment, letting him push his way inside me without more prep when I haven’t had him in so long. The stretch his girth brings is a delicious but brutal burn. He takes mercy on me by taking it slow and I feel every thick inch of him until he bottoms out, nuzzling the tip of his cock into my cervix.

“Fuck.” I breathe out, resting my head back on the cabinet. 

While it’s painful, it feels just like puzzle pieces reuniting, like he was made for me. He fills me completely, leaving no empty space.

He only stays stagnant for a short bit of time before he begins rutting into me. I remember how good he feels once adjusted to him. His head is tucked into the other side of my neck, littering it with more marks. He lets small grunts and groans tumble into my neck as he drills into me. With every thrust, his cock hits the bundle of nerves deep within my core and makes my skin burn. “God, you take me so fucking good.” He mutters beneath my ear and it makes me grip onto him tighter.

He detaches from my neck and unexpectedly places both hands on my cheeks, directing my gaze onto him. His hips slow but don’t halt as he forces me to focus on his stormy eyes. 

“Tell me it was a lie.” He demands, with a slight melancholic undertone.

I tilt my head a bit at the request, unsure of what he was referring to or why he’s bringing it up now. “What?”

“I know you lied to me, tell me it was a lie.” He pleads again, with more desperation this time. “Tell me there was no one else.” 

As I take a moment to process, he returns to his spot on my throat, pulling the skin of my neck between his teeth and one hand finding my swollen clit, rolling circles into it. My eyes widen at the feeling of both sensations at the same time, rapidly accelerating the proximity of my high. 

“Tell me you lied to me.” He repeats in a mumble beneath my ear. “Tell me there’s no one else. I need to hear it.”

My mind swirls between his words and the pleasure he’s giving me. It’s like some twisted tactic, that if he gets me so overwhelmed, I’d be forced to tell the truth - and it’s working. 

“I-“ I begin, going to ask how he ‘knows’ but I know I’m a terrible liar, especially to him. My peak rushes to where his fingertips meet my bundle of nerves and all I can think about is him. “I lied, Nick, I lied.” My fingernails dig into his back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting an ache wash through my chest.

I feel him smile against my skin and his speed picks up, ramming into my sweet spot over and over while working figure-8’s into my clit. 

“There’s only you.” I add, because I have nothing left to lose with the truth being out. “There’s only ever been you.”

He groans at the words and the way my walls involuntarily pulse around him. “Fuck.“ He grunts against my neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Fuck, I’m close. Cum with me?” 

I nod quickly as I’m on the precipice of my own high as well and ready to reach it with him. 

His thumb speeds up with the rolls of his hips pushing me over the edge. “Fuck I’m gonna, fuck,” Buzzing euphoria washes over me and blinds my vision as the coil in my belly snaps. It spreads burning heat across my body and only intensifies when I feel his cock twitch, spilling his hot release into the deepest part of me.

Our chests rise and fall quickly in time with each other and his breath brushes past my shoulder in short bursts. It feels so good to be so full of him.

Unexpectedly, he pulls back only to hold my face and pull me in for another kiss. This time, it’s sweet and soft and full of an emotion we haven’t spoken. Our tongues dance together but it’s slow and tender, the sort of kiss that bonds you and makes you feel safe. 

Once he detaches from me, his forehead presses into mine once more, meeting my eyes with his silver ones, this time having a faint blue hue. His thumbs brush along my cheekbones and his eyes dart across my face, “I don’t want to stop doing this, Vallie.” He whispers and it twists a knife in my chest.

I don’t want to stop either, I want to say. 

I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Nick, we-”

“I know.” He says sadly, but with a slightly hopeful pitch. “The guys are coming around, nobody has to know but us five. I can wait, Val.” His voice pleads. “I can wait, I can wait until you’re ready, until we can. There’s something here, I know you feel it too, I can feel it. I just can’t do this anymore, it’s torture being around you.” His words accelerate as he speaks. “It takes everything in me not to touch you. I can’t be around you, let alone live with you and pretend that I don’t love you.” His eyes widen a bit at what he just blurted out. 

My own eyes round wide at him and my heart feels so full it could pop. “You… what?”

He closes his eyes, “I know that I shouldn’t.” His voice strained before meeting my gaze again. “But I do.” 

I blink up at him as he confirms the same words that have been swirling on the tip of my tongue. My hands slide down to hold his face. “I love you too, Nicholas.” I whisper in the space between us. 

“You do?” He asks, almost surprised though I can’t tell if it’s because I said it or because I mean it, maybe both.

“Yes. I love you, I love you,” My hands pull him closer as I repeat the words like a prayer; now that I’ve said them, I can’t stop. “I love you, I love you,” Before I can get to the fifth ‘I love you’ he wraps my legs around his hips and lifts me off the counter with him still inside me. He carries me into the living room and before I can question anything, we reach his intended destination. 

He lays me down on the couch - the same couch we got high on and ate Jolly Ranchers and ice cream. The couch where we first experienced each other’s bodies. It's not the couch where our love began but it is where it bloomed. 

Our lips rejoin immediately, getting swept up in our newly confessed love. I felt him hardening inside me again before we even left the kitchen. My arms wrap around his neck and my legs close in around his hips, trying to get him as close as possible.  

His hips begin to rut into me, gliding easily with his previous release still inside. It begins tender and slow but as with anything with Nick, it heats up quickly. He uses one hand to hook behind my knee pulling my hips up and closer to him and I let out a gasp at the new, deeper angle. His lips find my neck again, placing needy but tender open mouth kisses there. “I need you to feel how much I love you.”

My nails dig into his back at his words, “Fuck.” I moan out as his tip hits my g-spot directly in rapid succession with no reprieve. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He says softly against my neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. “God, you feel fucking amazing.” It was like once we gave in and admitted to our feelings, it amplified the sex tenfold.

My head feels like it’s spinning when I nod in agreeance, desperately, “You fill me up so good, baby.” I let the name slip in the cloud of pleasure.

“Fuck, call me that again.” He nearly growls and lands one hard thrust flush against my hips.

It made my heart swell, thankful that he liked it, then had my walls pulsing around him in the realization that he really liked it.

“I love your fucking cock, baby.” I repeat the petname.

“Yeah?” He smirks, against my skin, “You like the way I stretch you out, angel?”

I flutter my eyes closed, feeling so complete in our surrender to one another, like this was how we were meant to be with each other from the beginning. It’s overwhelming how all of our suppressed words and feelings were all crashing into us at once. We broke open the floodgates and we were drowning in each other.

“God yes.” I dig my nails deeper into his flesh, feeling the daunting size of him trying to split me in two.

“Fuck, you take me so fucking good.” He mumbles in a low voice, and I feel myself clench as much as I can around his girth like I need to keep him there forever. He groans at the feeling, “Oh, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” His hand frantically finds my clit again, beginning tight circles into it.

My breath hitches in my throat and my eyes widen, that being the only thing I needed to send me into my second orgasm. He’s not far behind with hard, staggered thrusts chasing his own high.

Our climaxes arrive rapidly with the passionate expression of our love. For the second time that day, we hit our peaks together in unison, letting the confessions of our love fill the room. 

He practically falls and melts into me as our chests heave in time with each other. After a bit his eyes look down at me, still hazy with lust, now mixed with love. “It’s not enough.” He says hastily.

My brows furrow at his words, lifting myself up to my elbows as he slowly makes his way down my body. “What do you mean?”

He lands at my hips, spreading my legs apart. “I said that I need you to feel how much I love you. Fucking you with my cock isn’t enough.”

Before I can protest or inquire, his head is dipped between my thighs and his tongue is latched to my already-overstimulated clit.

“Oh, no, no, no.” My hand flies into his hair as I shake my head quickly. “No, Nick, I can’t – oh – not again,” I hiss at his blatant disregard and try to squirm away. “Fuck – It’s too much.”

He groans against me and his hand grip onto my hips stiffly, keeping me locked in place. “Stay fucking still.” He growls the demand without pulling his mouth away, every word sending a vibration through my body.

Every move of his tongue is intentional in a specific pattern, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was actually spelling out ‘I love you’. Regardless of that being factual or not, it doesn’t matter because it feels like he was writing loveletters with his tongue.

Every flick and swirl, sends a jolt through my entire being. My movements beneath his mouth can only be described as thrashing as my center is flooded with stimulation it wasn’t ready to receive again. It’s heavenly but almost painful at the same time. “Slower, please.” I beg but it’s futile; once Nick’s determined on something, its hard to convince him otherwise.

I tug at the roots of his hair and wriggle as much as I can with him keeping me in place. I’d felt my high creeping up, but I didn’t expect it to crash into me out of nowhere. It hits me all at once, my hips buck into him and my grip on his hair must be painful, but he doesn’t falter, not for a second. Silent screams ghost my throat as pleasure rips through me, violently. His tongue continues to roll at the perfect speed in all the right patterns, dragging out my high into the longest one I’ve ever had.

He finally tapers off of me and looks up at me through my parted legs. “I could do that all fucking day.”

I deflate into the cushions with a sigh, my ears still ringing from the overwhelming pleasure that just possessed my entire being. He kisses up my body, reaching up and planting a chaste kiss to the side of my mouth. “Was that too much?” He questions in a whisper.

I shake my head lazily, out of breath. “Perfect.” Is all I can get out.

The edge of his lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it would be.” And places a prideful kiss to my shoulder.

Once cleaned up, we laid on the couch together with me cuddled into his side and my head on his chest. The silence around us is both comforting and nerve wracking. The air is thick with fragility, like if one of us moves or speaks our bubble will burst. 

As we lie there, the quiet moments stretch out, and I can feel his heartbeat steady under my ear. It’s a rhythm that grounds me, making everything else fade away. His fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, and I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. There’s a comforting sense of relief in surrendering completely to each other, finally. I’m not sure what this all means for us, but it feels good to finally admit it outloud. 

We stay like that for the rest of the night, enveloped in a bubble of shared intimacy. The outside world, with all its complications and uncertainties, feels distant and unimportant. Right now, we are just two people who have found comfort in each other’s arms. The complex reality and fragile hope for what might come next hangs in the air, but for now, they don’t need to be addressed. The uncertainty still lingers, but it’s softened by the honesty we’ve shared today. Tomorrow will bring its own set of challenges and questions, but in this moment, I allow myself to simply be with him, wholly. All that matters is the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the soft whisper of our breaths mingling in the quiet room. It’s enough to simply be together, a luxury we’ve denied ourselves of for so long—to find solace in the closeness and love that has always been there, begging to be acknowledged from the beginning.

Taglist; @ladyveronikawrites @persuasivus @kingdomof-omens @strawberryruffilo @the-hell-i-overcame @cncohshit @dominuslunae @thebadchic @to-be-written @myownthoughts12 @measuredingold [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N; The love for this story is something I never expected and I am truly grateful for it. Sorry that this took so long or if it's not up to par. I would love to hear your thoughts and predictions 👀 Thank you SO much for reading 💗

[fluentmoviequoter]

Hi,

I have a request for you. Deacon and reader have to pretend to be into a relationship for a undercover mission. But both of them love each other secretly and actually don't want to pretend.

💕

This is such a good idea!! Writing this was a ton of fun. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical danger/action/violence, OC Andres Cabrera, references to drug trafficking, Deacon gets protective and a lil angry. I think that's all!

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

A/N: Does Metro go under cover? I don't know. But I do know that SWAT doesn't, so I brought Metro in. Also, I proofread and fixed a few errors after posting, but let me know if I missed anything!

Picture from Pinterest

The Real Us

You fell for Deacon quickly and continue to fall deeper every day. You refuse to tell him because you are too scared to risk your personal and professional relationships. If only you knew he feels the exact same way; maybe everything would be different. Working with Deacon, seeing the good, bad, and ugly at work and in each other’s personal lives showed both of you that the other was worthy and deserving and impossible not to love. As Deacon got used to you during your probationary period, Hondo thought he was like a Doberman puppy, a vicious, lovesick combination as he follows you around while threatening everyone that comes too close. Now, you both resign yourselves to be friends and teammates, hoping it’s enough.

When Hondo yells your name attached to Deacon’s, your heart beats faster. “Hicks’ office,” Hondo finishes before he turns on his heel.

You fall into step beside Deacon, glancing at him.

“What did you do?” he teases, bumping his arm against your shoulder.

You struggle to remember to keep work first. Even if your safety wasn’t on the line, your fear of rejection keeps you from opening up completely. Likewise, Deacon is concerned you won’t want to date a superior or that you’re secretly in a relationship.

“Nothing, that I know of. Maybe Hicks found out you told Luca he could use the food in the fridge. After removing Hicks’ name,” you respond, smiling at him.

“Keep your voice down,” Deacon hisses.

“Here goes nothing,” you whisper as he opens the door for you.

Stepping into the office, you stop in front of Hicks’ desk and place your hands behind your back as Deacon joins you. Several officers from Metro are talking to Hicks and Hondo, who glances over and gestures for you to wait a minute.

“They’re going to steal one of us,” Deacon muses. “20-David won’t be the same without you.”

“Why would they take me? You’re way more experienced.”

“You’re prettier,” he says with a shrug. “Metro has a type.”

Your eyes widen as you turn to him, but you don’t get to ask what he means by that. Knowing that Deacon thinks you’re pretty, assuming he wasn’t still joking, sends a shiver down your spine.

Hondo nods at you before explaining, “Metro needs your help with a case.”

“Your Sergeant Hondo has already told us that we’re incompetent,” one of the officers adds.

“You’re the one that came to me for help,” Hondo shoots back. “They need a UC couple. Known drug trafficker Andres Cabrera is throwing a gala on his yacht, and there’s sure to be product, use, and purchasing.”

“Why not send actual UCs?” Deacon inquires.

“We’re stretched pretty thin, for one. But this also has a very high risk of getting dangerous. We’d rather have officers more prepared to deal with an ambush,” the Metro sergeant answers.

“What exactly is the purpose of the operation? I assume being under cover means we have to get firsthand proof of something,” you say.

“We need to find the leader of the trafficking operation, but we’d like to get proof of a purchase and find the hidden product if possible. The more we can get on this guy, the better. Most importantly, though, is to locate our guy. When you do, the rest of your team and my guys will be able to move in.”

You nod as Deacon agrees to join the team.

“So, for the most important question,” Hondo begins, winking at you, “what are they wearing?”

“I’m sorry,” Hicks says to you.

Sighing, you drop your shoulders. You knew when you heard gala it would be over-the-top, but you hope it’s not too bad.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your hopes are crushed. It’s terrible. The silky fabric is tighter than you’d prefer through the waist, then flares out. On the bright side, your gun is concealed. That’s the only plus, however. Stepping out of the locker room, you nearly run into Deacon.

“Sorry. Oh,” you say, gripping Deacon's biceps to stay upright. “You look great.”

Deacon’s three-piece suit matches the color of your outfit and makes him look even more handsome and dreamy than usual.

“Are you serious? You, you look perfect. I mean, you always look beautiful, but this is- I can’t catch my breath.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, stepping back as Deacon smiles. Tugging the outfit into a slightly more comfortable position, you feel Deacon’s eyes on you.

“You look amazing,” he says genuinely. “You’ll do great.”

“Whoa!” Luca and Hondo yell when you walk out, your arm looped through Deacon’s. 

“You two clean up nice,” Hondo adds.

“Thanks,” Deacon says, shaking his head. 

“Go get your sneak on, Deac,” Luca yells as Deacon pulls you away.

Tan is driving the limo to the docks and whistles obnoxiously before opening the door for you. The attention is funny from your friends, but from strangers and drug traffickers, it won’t be as enjoyable.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you two prepared to play a couple?” Tan asks as you near the coast.

“I think we can handle it. We know each other pretty well,” Deacon answers.

“And PDA?”

You shake your head at Tan, who is watching you in the rearview. It would be a last resort because one touch from Deacon might ruin you. There is no going back once you start something, especially something you so desperately need. 

“I’m going to keep you close,” Deacon whispers into your ear as you exit the limo. “Is that okay?”

You nod, smiling at him as his arm circles your shoulders, leading you to the oversized yacht.

“What do rich people do on yachts paid for by drugs?” you ask through your smile.

“Right. Because I’m the expert on that,” Deacon jokes. “Just act like we belong. Blend in.” You don’t hear him say, “As much as you can looking like that, anyway.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon’s hands are all over you. When you’re close enough to touch, Deacon tucks you under his arm against his side. Otherwise, you find yourself in his arms as you dance or linking your fingers with his as you socialize with people you will never understand. You’re like a magnet, and he can’t resist you.

“Dance with me,” Deacon says, leading you to the dance floor with a hand on your waist and his other hand in yours. “I think there’s something happening portside. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You look over his shoulder, turning your chin toward Deacon. “You’re right. I can’t tell what they’re talking about though.”

You jerk your head down toward Deacon’s chest suddenly, and he instinctively pulls you closer.

“What?”

“I think one of them was looking at me.”

Deacon spins quickly, confirming what you thought. “He’s coming over here. Your call.”

“Let me dance with him if he asks. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“I’ll be close.”

“Excuse me,” the man interrupts, looking at you as he talks to Deacon. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all,” Deacon answers, though the look in his eyes says the opposite. 

The man takes one of your hands as his other finds your waist. He pulls you close, too close. Deacon held you against his chest, and it felt right and safe, but being against this man’s chest is completely different.

“My name is Andres,” he introduces himself. Your target. “And I must say, you are the prettiest woman on my yacht tonight.”

“Well, I like to dress to impress,” you reply, moving your hand on his shoulder toward his collar.

“I don’t think it’s just the dressing.”

His hand on your waist moves slowly, but it’s easy to deduce he’s reaching down and around.

“One of my friends was on your yacht last week and told me how beautiful it was, so when he got an invite I begged him to bring me.”

“That’s your friend?” Andres asks, looking at Deacon.

You turn your head, seeing Deacon with a too-tight grip on a champagne glass and a forced smile. Tipping your head to the right, you signal that you’re okay just before Andres turns so you can’t see Deacon anymore.

“Yes. His wife is one of my best friends and she offered to watch the kids so he could bring me. She gets seasick when she steps foot on a boat, so I guess he decided I was a better date option.”

“You, dear, did not need to prove it, I am sure.”

“He also told me that you might be willing to show me your operation. Like I said, I dress to impress.” You pull yourself closer, looking up at him as you flirt. It makes you sick to your stomach, but it’s necessary.

“Has your friend seen my operation?”

“No. He’s more of a buy it and move on kind of guy, but I find your product, and you, fascinating.”

“Impress you did,” he says quietly, his hands moving to their original positions. “Meet be on the top deck in ten minutes, and we can work something out. Bring your friend’s wallet and we’ll show him exactly what you’re worth.”

You nod, batting your eyelashes as he steps back. Walking toward Deacon, you shake your arms and try to lose the feeling of Andres’s hands on you. Deacon’s jaw is clenched as you walk past him. He follows you behind a pillar, his eyes boring into yours as you reach up and cup his jaw.

“He told me to meet him on the top deck in ten and bring your wallet,” you tell him.

“My wallet?”

“He wants to show you what I’m worth.”

“Trust me, I know exactly what you’re worth,” Deacon says under his breath.

You look to your left, and before Deacon can see what you’re looking at, you rise to your tiptoes and hide your face in Deacon’s neck.

“Drop your head,” you whisper.

His breath fans against your collarbone as his head dips beside yours. You circle your arms around his neck, guarding your faces from passersby. The man you saw approaching walks behind you as Deacon’s arms tighten around your waist. His touch removes the discomfort you felt after dancing with Andres. Trying not to lose yourself in the moment, you reluctantly pull away from Deacon.

“I’ll come to the deck with you,” Deacon says, his hands dropping from your sides.

“You can’t come all the way. He’ll know,” you argue. “Stay close enough to hear me?”

“I’m not letting you face down a drug lord by yourself.”

“I’ll be okay. I know I’m not alone with you nearby.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You wander around the top deck, close to the staircase where Deacon is hiding.

“There she is,” Andres announces, spreading his arms as he approaches you. “Did you bring it?”

You flash a fake credit card and an overly flirty smile. “Yes, I did.”

“Perfect. We’ll go to my,” he brushes a finger over your cheekbone before finishing, “private area, below deck.”

His hand moves down, over your arm, and to your hip. He’s nearing your gun, and you rush to grab his wrist.

“Is that where you keep everything? Below deck?” you ask.

He looks over at an armed security guard before speaking. “Everything, yes.”

Your arm twists as he jerks his hand, pulling you close harshly.

“There you are!” Deacon exclaims as he walks onto the deck.

Andres shoves you sideways as his guard aims his gun at you.

“What’s going on?” Deacon asks.

“Something private. So maybe you should go,” Andres spits angrily.

“Maybe we should both go, yeah?” Deacon asks, raising a hand toward you. “We haven’t seen anything, we’ll stay quiet.”

“You won’t see anything. Get him out of here.”

Another guard barges onto the deck behind Deacon, and you pull your gun out of its holster, firing a shot before Deacon has time to turn around. The man groans as he hits the deck, cradling his arm against his chest. You move your gun to Andres as Deacon covers the other guard.

“You’re out of time,” Andres threatens. “More men are coming.”

“Yeah,” Deacon replies with a smile. “I know.”

A helicopter approaches, and Luca and Tan prepare to drop onto the yacht as it passes overhead.

“We got ‘em,” Luca tells Deacon. “Get back in there.”

Deacon grabs your arm gently, pulling you into the stairwell as he leads you below deck. You run into a locked door and turn toward Deacon.

“This has to be it,” you say.

He pushes against the door and freezes as footsteps descend, nearing you quickly. You look at Deacon and apologize before shoving him against the wall opposite the locked door. You pull yourself up and kiss him, deaf to the footsteps as boots scrape to a stop.

“Uh,” someone says, clearing their throat, “this is a private area, no guests are allowed on this level.”

Deacon gently pushes your hips back as you separate from him. He wraps an arm around your waist, giving an easy smile to the guard blocking the stairs.

“Sorry, man, but you know how it is,” he says.

The guard looks you up and down, ignorant of Deacon’s grip tightening on you as he rumbles, “I sure do.”

“So, we’ll just get out of your way and go back up.”

The guard raises a hand, stopping Deacon as his eyes remain on you.

“You head up, I need to ask her a few questions.”

“Not happening.”

You look at the guard and press a hand between Deacon’s shoulders. “Unless you answer a question for me first. Right, handsome?”

Deacon looks at you from the corner of his eyes, warning you not to do this.

“Any question,” you add. “And you have to tell the truth.”

“Deal,” the guard agrees quickly.

“Are there drugs in that room?”

He hesitates, then nods once.

“Move in,” Deacon says, his smile growing as you both step back.

“Don’t move,” you tell the guard. “LAPD S.W.A.T. You’re under arrest.”

The guard hesitates, then sighs and lowers his weapon before kicking it to Deacon.

“They’re always too good to be true,” he mumbles.

You hear yelling and footsteps as your team and the Metro squad enter the boat, breaking up the party. Hondo appears behind the guard with the Metro sergeant from earlier.

“This is why we chose you instead of a UC,” the sergeant says, winking at you.

“That was quite the kiss,” Hondo teases, pulling you into his side.

Deacon pulls you back into his arms as you ask, “Cameras?”

“Everywhere,” Hondo says. “There isn’t an inch of this place that isn’t covered.”

“Wish I’d known that before I went for my gun,” you mumble.

“Ready to get out of here?” Hondo asks as the guard is hauled away in handcuffs.

“Yes,” you and Deacon sigh together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Back at S.W.A.T. HQ, you change quickly and sit in the locker room, your head in your hands as you wonder if you and Deacon should talk about the kiss. It was just for work, but it felt like more. Maybe that’s just your heart talking, though.

“Hey,” Deacon says as he enters.

You look up, smiling when you see him. “Hi.”

“So…”

“I’m sorry.”

“I- why’d you do it?” Deacon asks, leaning against the lockers beside you.

You keep your eyes away from his face, knowing that if you see him you’ll tell him everything. “It seemed like the right move. We are- were pretending to be a couple, and you know, that’s what couples do. We needed an innocent reason to be there and that’s all I could think of.”

“Were we?” Deacon asks.

You pause, glancing up at him. “Were we what?”

“Pretending,” Deacon answers, turning to sit beside you. “Because that felt really real. All of it, the dancing, the kiss, the touches.”

You fall silent, looking at Deacon’s hand resting beside yours.

“Sorry,” he begins.

“I wanted it to be real,” you admit quietly.

Deacon smiles, and turns your chin toward him. Kissing him the second time is just as magical as the first. He pulls you close, uninhibited in how or why he touches you. Breathless, you pull away but keep your forehead pressed to his.

“What took us so long?” you ask.

“I was wondering the same thing. We should go on a date. One where we don’t have to run for cover or kiss just to stay alive.”

“Your kisses are pretty deadly,” you joke, “they make me breathless and make my heartbeat too fast.”

“Not funny,” Deacon says, chuckling.

“But they also make everything better,” you whisper.

Deacon smiles before kissing you again, a promise to never pretend again. After pretending not to love each other and pretending to be in a different relationship than you were, you both decide that keeping secrets and being someone you aren’t only delays what you really want. Being someone else with Deacon helped you to admit that you’re in love with the real Deacon, just as he loves the real you.

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty ch. 5

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fic.

A/N: prev. chapters available in my pin post, if ya like to be added to my taglist feel free to drop a comment with a request. I wanted to post this tomorrow but yeah am a liar with ADHD UwU.

Tags: mild gore, angsts, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance... i guess i should also say unhealthy/toxic relationship.

Chapter five

Thick lines.

Ryan and Helena were exhausted, most of the obstacle course had been partially destroyed, the walls damaged quite severely, and the ceiling was dented, Homelander had learned two things: 1) Ryan holds back too much– too afraid to harm, too afraid to break things, too afraid of his own powers as if they would come right-back around and harm him, and 2) Helena’s forcefield could take a beating, it had taken Ryan quite a bit of rage for it to start cracking, the girl continued to taunt hi, calling him inept, throwing insults without care before it cracked down.

She had learned her limits, making notes for future reference.

So here he was putting pressure on her arm, as she bled profusely.

Ryan was crying blaming himself, while Homelander took her to the labs. The girl didn’t cry much, seemingly just angry, only wincing as her father squeezed her arm with curses in her lips.

You had run out of the kitchen, guards refusing you entry to the labs, while you demanded entry Homelander had emerged and ordered them to step aside, throwing daggers at them as he took your hand.

You cried as you saw the bandages on her arm, you cried harder when she wrapped her arms around you, bawling and shaking underneath them.

Homelander calmly explained that she ended up with twenty stitches and some blood transfusion, but she was fine, no bone had been touched and her body was healing slowly.

You barely listened.

When was the last time you saw her cry? She was a quiet baby, a perfect baby, by the time she could talk, crying seemed redundant when she could simply spell it out for you.

“What did you do!?” You picked your child, retreating from him– I fucking qu–

“It was my fault…” Ryan said drying his sobs– I’m sorry.”

“It was an accident. The kids got a little heated during training… I should’ve stepped in earlier.”

Homelander took Ryan under his arm.

You stared at the kid, then back at your own.

“Helena did you–” You stroke her back– Sorry that my daughter antagonized you… It won’t happen again.”

Your voice was quiet, unable to look at either child.

“Let’s go get your stuff. My apologies, Homelander but I won’t be able to continue my work today. She won’t be a cause of future concern…” You wanted to quit and leave this tower forever.

He lets you go, no doctor tried stopping you either, but you wouldn’t let your daughter stay at Vought, a nurse informed you to come back to change the bandages in two days but you rather take her to an actual hospital.

You looked at him knowing he was going to come around.

Coffee already on the stove and biscuits on the table already waiting for him.

“How is she?” He was genuine.

“She says it's too itchy… but her arm is alright.” you scratch at your head.

“You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept for almost a decade… that’s just my face now.”

“You didn’t quit.” He sat beside you on the big round-table, turning pale as you saw him sit on his cape, his eyes reddened as he tried to look calm– are you quitting?”

“I dunno. Helena can be pretty abrasive. I’m sorry your son fell for it, she doesn’t mean it…  she just thinks that people are going to be cruel, so she’s cruel first.”

“Why?” He presses taking a quick glance at the livingroom and the misplaced toys.

“Try being in a classroom full of teenagers and be the smartest one in the whole room, they just see a smug midget who thinks she’s better than anybody else– they’re mean… kids in general are mean… but she eventually just scares them enough… there were other kids she’d hurt, nothing too severe.”

You stayed in silence not knowing if you should ask him to leave or not. If you should let him be privy of those events.

“She knows.”

“You!”

“She either figured it out or used her powers to find out.” He rested his elbow on the table stroking his tired eyes– I didn’t tell her but she would’ve noticed there was something going on.”

You yawned, taking a couple sips of coffee as he copied you. The silence unbearable and your eyes heavy and aching, gawking at him made you think of her.

“Your eyes and lips are identical.” That was an unusual smile on your face– when she was born that was the first thing I noticed, the second was that mop of hair on her head… she had so much hair and it was so long, but those were your eyes… sadly, you know I always thought your nose was your best feature but she got mine.”

You stood up asking him to follow you to the living room with a finger, taking a seat on the same sofa you refused to throw away.

“Tell me about her… Becca never had the chance… I cleaned that house and found pictures and trinkets, but without the stories I can only speculate. I don’t know his first words, the first time he walked, his first time riding a bike… I don’t know anything. She never wanted to tell me.” He leaned closer, his hand close to yours but never touching– Ryan is sorry, he was quite shaken.”

“Her first word was ‘morning’.” You spoke wanting to indulge, wanting to seem better for some reason.

You told him stories, there had been a time when you fantasized sharing all these moments with him, when you were younger and stupider. When you two began to get too serious, when he had called you baby, darling and honey with genuine affection, when you watched him sleep and caressed his hair awake. You’d dreamed of drinking wine while your kids slept by his side at one point and in this forced intimacy you could be as deluded as he was just in case he was holding something nefarious over your head.

You let him know about her silly things, about her first love… the chemistry set you bought her when she was five. About how she lived in their local library and everybody knew her by name, about how some of the kids expected her to become Brooklyn’s finest, about her hatred of pistachio and strong emotions about bird keeping.

You never expected to talk to him like this after everything, but today has been a rollercoaster and you simply hadn't been in you to fight, not now when your daughter knew, you were doing this to yourself so you couldn’t fight it, you gave him morsels and crumbs because you had no one to talk about this things.

“Is Ryan alright?” You asked leaning away from him, the night was so dark and only the kitchen in the back lit the house– it must’ve been so scary.”

“He was pretty shaken. Took me a lot to get him to stop crying…”

“Helena won’t hold any grudges… I think… I got an idea… has Ryan ever been to Coney Island? Maybe we can take the kids to the boardwalk, have hotdogs and hit the aquarium, Helena will not misbehave in there.” You put your empty cup on the coffee table– they can make up.”

He gave you a tired smile, knowing he had to head home soon but wanting to talk some more.

“Are you angry at her?” He asks weakly.

“She would’ve hurt Ryan. I figured out she was forcing him to attack when you said things got a little heated, that’s how she dealt with bullies in the past.” you looked him straight in the eyes– I am upset.”

He found a way to touch your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t be… I think Ryan would like the aquarium, he’s never been.” He seemed ashamed of that statement.

“Remember when we used to sneak out to Central Park?” You said suddenly with a chirp in your voice.

“Those were long nights.” He dares give you a flirty look.

“No… those handful of times where we went during daytime… ditch the suit… more witnesses, more likely to behave.”

You tried ignoring those sharp fangs, he was so good looking still and it had been so fucking long since you got laid, being forced to remember him, to interact with him, to let him touch you… some people like to be used… Helena had said it best, and in this nice house he bought you, and the nice stuff he got you all around you, you remember what he was trying to get out of you, and that was to play a role.

At the doctor’s office, Helena cried a lot when the doctor took her stitches out, it had taken a day to heal but she was left with a gnarly scar.

“Phantasma” You sit next to her while she eats some ice cream, she really did not like getting the stitches out, the visit had reduced her to an actual little girl, even after her words were incoherent, skipping words as she cried all the way out to the ice cream shop, Helena’s skin was hard not like her fathers but it was near impossible to penetrate it with a needle, forced to proceed without real anesthesia– sounds better than ‘Ghost Girl’, no?”

She looked up.

“Sounds cool. Why?” she sniffed hard.

“Your father did ask about it…”

“Huh?”

“Honey. He told me you figured it out. How?”

She licked her ice cream cone, as you tucked her under your arm. Scooting her closer on the park bench.

“I used Elmo to break into his apartment. I turned us both invisible and I went up there.” You pulled on her ear– ouch!”

“Helena!”

“He’s been following us for weeks!” you let her go– I was curious as to what he was doing… I was suspicious of his intentions, found the paperwork in his office and played stupid for a couple days.” She handed you her slobbered cover ice cream– Is not appropriate for a grown man to be following little girls.”

“You shouldn’t use Elmo like that!”

“You aren’t mad I broke into his house?” She looked perplexed.

“Nah… I could have given you the passcode it's the first thing they gave me when I started work. Don’t involve the kid!” You took a bite– Jesus Helena! You being invisible is hard enough… I don’t want you ending up like Translucent! Guy was so mentally ill.”

“You knew translucent?” her ear perked up.

“He would walk around naked in the bathrooms– I’ll explain to you when you’re older, honey.” you handed the ice cream back, your lips tight under your teeth– I knew your father for three years… So I got to meet some of The Seven. Either way leave the kid alone and for all intents and purposes you never told me about the stalking…”

“You got something in mind?”

“We’re going to play his game. You’re his daughter… so that tower should be yours, no?”

“There’s my older brother to worry about, too.”

“He’s just a little boy, riding thru life with only nepotism as his anchor” You stroke her hair pushing her bangs away from her beautiful eyes– but he’s not you.” You leaned into her ear– you are my daughter.”

Her smile was sickly sweet.

Here you were waiting for him at the entrance of the boardwalk, when you felt a light touch on your shoulder.

He looked uncomfortable and maybe too dressed up for the occasion, you took the lapel of his suit jacket. It was the nicest fabric you’ve touched in your entire life, surprised to see his hair not as gel-up and his eyes hiding behind versace sunnies.

“Did you raid Kendall Roy’s closet? I swear I saw this jacket in season 3.”

“Is a good show.” he laughs looking painfully stiff, his eyes moving rapidly behind his lenses– and yes.”

“Wait, is this actually from the show?”

“I just said yes.”

Your mouth dropped slightly, but you did like the feel of the jacket.

“You’re more Shiv.”

“Not Logan I hope?”

You snorted in horror, your daughter pretended to be confused by his appearance trying not to look at Ryan, who looked like a deer in front of a hummer.

“Are you doing okay, little guy?” You asked, making sure to lift his hat playfully– Ever had a Nathan’s glizzy? Is an institution.”

The kid looked so shy.

“No, I never had one…” He was one bad word away from sobbing.

“Is okay. My arm is all good again” Helena's adult size hoodie had a big enough collar for her to pull down and reveal nothing but a scar– I am not mad at you. It was an accident… Besides, you can’t be a supe if you’re afraid of getting boo-boos.”

Ryan seemed more shaken than anything, but before he could do his best sad little orphan boy impression, Helena took his hand and dragged him forward, telling him that he needed to try Nathan’s before doing anything, rambling about how good they are, and that she couldn’t wait to see the Aquarium.

Both you and Homelander stood a few steps behind as your daughter gave the kid no time to rest.

“She’s always been this pushy?” He whispered into your ear.

“She just found out that’s her brother… She's a tad excited.”

“You had the talk? Without me!?” He looked upset, staring at his kids with a bit of bitterness.

“I was ambushed. I swear to god you need to figure out a weakness with her damn bubble.”

“What's the limit before she runs out of oxygen?” he asks.

“1 minute and 46 seconds is her personal best.” you whispered back.

“What did you tell Helena was happening today?” He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close.

“That it was a play-date, to try to mend the situation… after all she instigated it.” You leaned against him tugging on his jacket with a cheeky smile– not whatever you were thinking this was… now… get your hand off my ass, John.”

“I told you. I have a story to sell. Both kids are in the same school, now they can start being friends and she knows I’m her dad. Let’s just skip to the good part.”

“You want to pretend we are dating?” If your teeth could separate and let you talk with ease, you would bite his nose off before finishing your next sentence– Did you run that past your team? Sure I wouldn’t rank higher than Maeve or Starlight in the fake girlfriend department… I think even Taylor would rank better… she did make a great single out of you.”

He cringed at that comment.

“You’ll do great in the fake mother department– The team has concocted something extra juicy, a real page turner. Way above Hallmark channel christmas movies, we are talking award circuit instead.”

You both did that fake little laugh that sounded more like a growl as your kids turned around after spotting the white, green and yellow hot dog restaurant.

As Helena headed to the line, with Ryan in tow. You played your role, Helena would have what she deserves– if he wanted to force you and her into his life, you were going to wrap those chains so tight around his neck, he would forget he ever lived without it.

Your mouth met his for a brief moment, startling him enough that his hand left your hips, he was left stuck in place as you went after the kids.

The breeze tousled his hair, as you looked back at him with a saddened smile.

“I haven’t forgiven you… but I want to give you a second chance… I want to put all those things behind us… if you are going to be here for her– for us.” You whispered from afar out of your kids reach as Helena took your wallet, knowing full well he was listening attentively– I’ve missed you. Even if I don’t want to admit it.”

The seagulls squealed as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arm again around your waist just to kiss you yet again.

The moment Helena saw a fish tank it was game over. All her ‘Wednesday’ facade had melted as she became an over excited amateur marine biologist, giving his eldest no time of rest as she explained as many animals she could to the child, he had learned an awful lot about corals and kelp as they moved from exhibit to exhibit, admittedly Ryan was having fun, hanging out with other kids as school had been a bit difficult, his socialization skills were poor from years of isolation and homeschooling but this was nice.

Homelander could only see a kodak moment ruined by the myriad of The Deep billboards staring at him.

It was a bizarre game of stealth kisses happening behind the kids, he was starving for you,  a desire he had put down in the cellar and today he found again, excited to play this game with you.

Wanting to feel your comfort, happy that you took his offer, now he only had to tell Ryan.

As you left for the bathroom he was left alone with the two kids, Ryan fixated on some animals and his mind elsewhere when Helena pulled at his sleeve.

“You look like you want to rip your skin off.”

“I don’t usually wear clothes like this?” he says politely– what about you? Why are you wearing that giant hoodie again? Don’t you own other stuff?”

It was big enough for an adult, her sleeves had been rolled up quite a bit and its length still touched her knees making her appear shorter than she already was, this had been the fifth time he had seen her in this fit, she wore black hoodies most of the times on top of her normal clothes– cheap thrifted clothes and hand-me downs somethign that irked the man; But this ridiculous hoodie seemed to be a favorite. The newest and nicest thing she owned was a pair of A-T Force 1, it pissed him off to watch her wear those shoes– why worship that fat slob when her father was the fucking Homelander! he thought.

“Is really nice… found it in an old box mother had with her while we were living in one of her cousin’s garage.” She stretched her arm urging the man to have a feel of the soft cotton fabric– She didn’t wanna throw it away ‘cuz she could sell it but I ended up wearing it a lot. I like it.”

The fabric was worn down but it was evidently of good quality, he spun the little girl around as he looked at the size tag, only to see the name of the brand… Brunello, his eyes widened as he noted that this hoodie easily cost over 1000 dollars, but as the girl glared at him a light sob escaped his lips as his eyes tingled– this had been his sweater. 

Of the few items of clothes he had owned over the years, he knew this was his.

In those secret dates in central park and escapes to Paris and Seoul, where he was forced to hide who he was just so you two could hold hands without causing a scene, he had bought this, you liked it enough to steal it from him from time to time.

Homelander had become John Gillman for you, he had never needed a secret identity before he met you, not even mulling on the idea for long. He only had to be the Homelander, but he had become a mild-mannered executive named Mr. John Gillman, to be with you– forcing himself to wear strange clothes and mingle with lowborn folks, just to hold your hands and kiss you.

This stupid hoodie that he had ordered an intern to buy only to arrive a size too big, that had gone missing years prior, now stood here wrapping his daughter.

“How did you find out about me?” He asks with shaky lips.

“After you showed up at Lucci’s… thought it was weird that you showed up at my house not long before… I suspected you knew my mom, and after she told me that she worked at Vought. Well, I looked at her resume and did some math. I only really began to suspect it after you broke into my house” She raised her chin– you left the window open by two inches, not enough to matter but enough for me to notice as I always leave them close all the way… you left my hairbrush in the sink’s and not the trolley. Why would you touch my hairbrush? Wonder what you could get out of it…”

The little shit turned around to spot her brother still admiring the clover reef while they waited for you.

“I was taking a gamble when I called you a ‘deadbeat’, dad.”

Homelander's heart skipped a beat when her mouth uttered the word, unsure if she was mocking him or otherwise, from her it was hard to tell.

“You don’t want him to know about me, right?” Her voice was quiet, a knot buried itself in her throat.

“What? No!” He said in a panic, getting on one knee to see her eye-to-eye– Helena… I … I want us to be a family, Ryan will understand but I have to wait… he’s not like you or me… he’s… sweet.”

She looked away squishing her little fist, hiding her beautiful kyanite stones behind those long bangs, his hand lifted her hair, trying to peek further into those beautiful skies, feeling the creamy skin under his palm, her warmth as her cheeks turn a new shade of pink.

“You’re my daughter… my blood… I am sorry… I was… I was an asshole for what I did, but I just want to be there for you now… so If I can… you can call me ‘Dad’ if you like.”

His voice quivering as he spoke, she was frail, he could feel it under his touch, how easy it would be for him to hurt her.

Little girls were to be handled with much more care, dainty things they were, she was a peony blooming in his hands, so he had to be soft and strong for her. she rested her cheek against his hand, his so warm and soft, surprised at the way he looked at her-- there was a twinkle of desperation behind his gaze.

She rested until her eyes didn’t sting anymore.

As you left the bathroom, you spotted the curious scene, biting at your lips as your guilt finally catched up to you, you didn’t need it, you would not allow yourself to be harmed but as you saw your daughter play her role, you knew… she would be lost inside the character… She was a lonely child, deprived of you and without him ever in the picture... she had a weakness.

You let them mingle from afar as they walked around towards some river exhibition, while Ryan made his way towards the duo, their hands intertwined as he turned calling for his boy.

For a moment you saw a glimpse of the life you always wanted… Revenge was a nasty game… could you really play it? You wondered as you fixed your clothes.

Before you could say anything, your sight followed a faceless passerby.

A service dog in tow.

The passerby had simply bumped into Helena, the dog had been just close enough, you didn't worry immediately, she had gotten used to dogs and you were certain she had been good and taken her allergy meds.

You were sure.

Helena turned but it was too late.

With a single sneeze the gates had opened.

The walls rumbled, as the pale blue wave of sharp wavering light exploded out of her body.

Everybody swallowed a shared gasp, as the glass began to crack.

taglist: hope y'all like the chapter @fromforeigntofamiliarity @immyowndefender @demodemo909

[seenoversundown]

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Nine

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC) Warnings: The Kiss, Tears, Jake being brother of the year, Anxious thoughts, self-doubt, minimizing your own pain, Josh is kind of in a tailspin for a little bit - so anything that goes along with those big catastrophic feelings. Word Count: 3.3k Summary: Josh has always loved love,  and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: This chapter… I’m sorry. Josh is in his feelings and it put me in MY feelings. Just stick with me for a bit, I hate making these characters sad, but we’ve only got a little longer before they stop hurting each other and just cave. 

“But it's not real And you don't exist And I can't recall the last time I was kissed It hits me in the car And it feels like the end of a movie I've seen before Before”  Ceilings -  Lizzy McAlpine 

It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the feeling of Quinn’s arms wrapped around me, to get lost in the feeling of their lips first brushing against mine. We’re so close together that it's easy to allow myself to move just a little closer and kiss them again. It's easy to pretend that they want this.. And for a second, I live in bliss, knowing that they’re kissing me with as much fervor as I’m kissing them. It didn’t last long before I felt one of their hands snake between us, open palm landing on my chest. They gently shove me back, face full of bewildered anger. 

I watch as their brows furrow together and their eyes dart back and forth, trying to process what happened. 

“Is this—” they stop, their mouth opening and closing as they choose their following words. “Is this why you offered to help? So you could try and pick me up?”  “What? No! No, absolutely not,” I rush out, “I don't know why I did that. I swear it wasn't intentional.”  “So you go around… unintentionally… kissing people on the mouth?!” They laughed humorlessly, “That's just a thing you do in your spare time?” 

I sigh and run a hand through my hair before responding. 

“No, that came out wrong. I didn't mean for it to happen; I got caught up.”  “You got caught up in a thank-you hug? A thank-you peck? Do you realize how that sounds?” “I'm usually better at speaking than this,” I try to joke.  “Are you sure about that?”  “No… not really.” there's a long beat of silence where we’re just staring at each other.  “Okay, well, I need you to leave now,” they finally grit out, “We’ve done enough.”  I slowly nod my head and turn to leave, then hear them call out “Thanks for the help, but please don't contact me for a while.”  “Of course, Quinn,” I whisper defeatedly, walking out the door, “anything you want.” 

I hop in my truck feeling utterly bewildered. I know that I kissed them a second time, but Quinn literally started it. They kissed me first and now they’re acting like I caused all of this. Shut up, Josh. Can’t you see that they’re hurt and confused? Give them a little time to come to terms with it. 

_______________________________

As I slide my key into the lock on the door to our apartment, I finally allow myself to break down. Fat tears roll down my face as I walk through the door.  Why did I do that? 

I take my shoes off and practically rocket-launch myself onto the couch, not caring to take my jacket off. More tears fall as I play back the last few hours in my head. I think of how much fun we had throughout the day, joking and laughing as I helped Quinn move and unpack their boxes. I think about how my heart fluttered ardently the longer I was in their presence. I think about how we’d flash each other secret smiles over the day. 

How could I betray their trust? How could I think that this is what they wanted? How could I think that I was what they wanted? 

I let out a defeated groan and flop onto my back, pulling one of the throw blankets that Jake insists make it “look like we have our shit together” over top of me. I pull out my phone and click into my text thread with Quinn. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I remember their voice telling me not to contact them. I’m so stupid. 

I’ll be better by the time Jake comes home. He doesn't deserve to see me like this. It's not his job to pick up the pieces for his older brother. 

I stretch out on the couch and let my eyes drift closed. Tears still stream down my face as I continue recounting every last detail. It plays like a slideshow, and the very second I get to the end of it, my brain loops it right back to the beginning of the day. 

Picking Quinn up from their roommate’s house, helping them box everything up, Craig coming in and causing a scene, taking boxes to the truck, moving the boxes to their new home, unpacking them, Kiss, “Don't contact me for a while,” rinse and repeat. 

The worst part about the situation is that I caused it myself because I'm impulsive and reckless. I can't even blame Quinn for being upset with me because I know how my actions look. It does seem like I only offered to help in an attempt to pick them up. 

I can feel my emotions lulling me to sleep, and I quickly open my eyes and fumble for the remote.

I’ll put a movie on, so Jake will assume I just couldn't hang for movie night. He doesn't need to know that I can't physically make it to my bedroom. 

I shuffle through streaming services and ultimately decide on the Pirates of the Caribbean series. They're Jake’s favorites, so there’s an added layer of protection — he’ll hopefully get too distracted by Kiera Knightly to notice my lumpy form sticking out of the couch cushions. I select the first one in the series, then lay back down, covering my head in the blanket, and let sleep take me. 

I wake in a cold sweat several hours later to the sound of Jake’s key turning in the lock, and I can feel a fresh wave of sadness hit me. 

Don't cry. Pretend to be asleep. Give Jake peace.  Don't cry. Pretend to be asleep. Give Jake peace. 

The more I think about it, the harder it is to keep the tears from falling, so I try my hardest to stay silent. Perhaps he won't notice my body shaking with sobs if he can't hear them coming out. 

I listen as he hangs his keys up and slides his well-worn pair of Vans off his feet by the front door. 

Keep quiet. Keep quiet. Keep quiet. 

“Josh,” he hollers out, noticing I left the TV on.  

Keep quiet. Keep quiet. Keep quiet. 

I hear his socked feet walk over to the coffee table, and he watches a bit of the movie before shutting the TV off, not noticing me on the couch. 

“Josh,” He pads through the apartment, opening my bedroom door, “You're kind of freaking me out.” 

My resolve breaks at the concerned timbre of his voice, and I suck in a shuddering sob. He jogs back to the living room as another wave of emotions hits me. I feel the couch dip as he sits beside me, then slowly uncovers my head. 

“Oh, Bubba,” he squeaks, wiping the tears from my cheeks.  “I’m s-sor—” I cut my own apology off with a soft wail. 

He pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, gently rubbing his hand up and down my spine. 

“What happened?”  “I- I—” I suck in a snotty breath, trying to find the words to explain. “No, it's okay. You don't have to talk right now,” he runs a hand through my hair.

“Here, let's get this jacket off you and get you in the bath.” 

I cry harder because Jake knows exactly what I need and is helping me willingly. He’s giving me his time and energy even after he worked an entire shift. 

He stands up from the couch and offers me a hand, practically dragging me to a standing position, before disappearing down the hallway and starting the bathtub. I walk over to the coat rack and finally hang my jacket up after sleeping in it for hours. 

I take a second to wipe my eyes on the cuff of my long-sleeved white t-shirt and compose myself before following Jake back to the bathroom. As I enter the room, I see that Jake has already set out a fresh towel, and he’s fiddling with the tap while adding a healthy amount of Dr. Teal’s Ashwagandha bubble bath into the tub. 

“I picked the one for ‘calming your mind,’” he says, turning to meet my gaze, “it seems like you could use it.” 

He shrugs and goes back to fiddling with the tap, somehow knowing the exact combination of hot and cold water that I love.  I walk over to him and place my hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. 

“Thank you, Jake,” I start, clearing my throat because it’s rough with disuse, “I love you a lot.”  “Don't worry about it, bub,” He pats my hand on his shoulder and turns to leave the bathroom, “I’ll be in the living room when you're ready.” 

He closes the door, and I strip out of my clothes. 

I pull my phone from the pocket of my discarded pants and hit shuffle on my music library, hoping the background noise is enough to distract me while I rot in the tub. 

I walk out of the bathroom, feeling like half of a human being again. 

Far cry better than how I felt earlier, I think as I walk into the living room. 

Jake sits on the couch, a glass of scotch in hand, in his trusty sweatpants and his usual half-buttoned flannel. He’s added his wire-rimmed reading glasses to his ensemble. 

“Thank you again,” I say, voice still thick with tears. He softly smiles at me, moving to stand.  “You don't have to thank me. What kind of brother would I be if I let your sorry ass have a mental breakdown all alone,” he says in a joking manner, but I can see the concern etched all over his face.  “Pretty shitty one, if you ask me,” I laugh, but it sounds hollow even to my ears. He lets out a small sigh and makes his way to the kitchen. I take a seat next to the one he just vacated on the couch, and that's when I finally notice that he’s taken all but two of our blankets and made a giant pallet on the floor. Just like when we were little. Stop it, Josh. You can't cry because your brother is being kind to you. It's his job to be kind to you. 

I pull one of the free blankets over my lap and finally notice that Jake has been sitting here in silence, with Stardust queued up and ready to start whenever I got out of the tub. I pull at the collar of my shirt, trying to do anything I possibly can to dislodge the emotions that sit there.   Sometimes, it's just hard to believe how much Jake loves and respects me. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life, and I hope I don’t ever have to repay his love and kindness, but I’ll be ready if I do. 

My sappy thoughts are interrupted by Jake waltzing back into the room, a mug of hot chocolate, I guess by the smell of it, in each hand. He reaches over and hands one to me with a conspiratorial look. 

“There’s rum in this,” I state, more so than I ask.  “What better way to drown your sorrows?” “You make a fine point, Kiddo,” I take the first sip of my drink and let it warm me from the inside out. 

Jake sits beside me on the couch, pulling his blanket over his legs, and sighs when the hot chocolate hits his lips. He reaches out for the remote on the coffee table and presses play. 

He gives me precisely 30 seconds before he turns to examine me. 

“Wanna talk about it?”  I let my head fall back against the couch and groan ”I fucked up,” I cut myself off there, knowing that Jake won't let me leave it at that.  “That much is obvious,” Jake says as he reaches over to pat my knee, “but I’m gonna need more details.” 

I swipe one hand over my face, rubbing my eyes. 

“Okay, so hypothetically speaking, I may have accidentally kissed someone who I wasn’t supposed to..”  I peek over at Jake, trying to gauge his reaction.  “Okay,” he raises an eyebrow, beckoning me to continue.  “And I really, really, really liked this person.”  “FaceTime date that I interrupted? Quinn?”  “Why do you remember EVERYTHING?” I ask with a slight chuckle. “Gotta keep tabs on my idiot brothers,” he shrugs, “but I suppose it didn't go well?”  “You could say that,” I grimace, “basically ended with them telling me to leave them alone indefinitely.” 

Jake sits and thinks for a moment. I can see him weighing his options and trying to decide how he wants to tackle this. 

“You know, I’m not the best at relationships myself. So, I won't waste your time on advice. But, what I will say,” Jake stops to clear his throat, placing one hand on the back of his neck, "is that I can see the love and care that radiates from you day in and day out. I can see how everyone wants to be around you, hoping they can get just a little bit of the light you give out. Just give your person time, and I'm sure they’ll recognize it too.” 

My throat tightens again. 

“I don't know. They seemed pretty adamant about not wanting to see me.” “You're pretty good at changing people's minds, so don't count yourself out yet.” 

I nod my head, refusing to speak because I know that I'll lose the hold that I currently have on my tears. I set my drink on the coffee table and pull him into a crushing hug. 

“You mean so much to me. I love you.” “Okay, sappy. Pull it together.” "I’m trying, but you’re being exceptionally nice to me and it’s making me more emotional,” I let out a watery laugh into his shoulder. “Bub, you’re always a little bit emotional. That’s how we all know you’re human and not some Sunshine Powered Robot.” 

He pulls out of my grasp and pinches my arm, 

“Now get your ass on the pallet,” he points to the forgotten about make-shift bed, “we’re having a sleepover like when we were little.”

My heart tugs at that, knowing that he also thought about our younger years. I try to ignore the fact that he’s likely only doing this because he’s afraid I’ll go rogue if he leaves me alone.  To be fair, it’s a reasonable fear to him to have. If I could sink into the couch cushions and sleep for a year, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But that’s not really a feeling you can voice out loud without getting a few.. looks. 

I hop down from the couch and stretch out on the blankets Jake laid out, and I feel him drop down to the pallet after he clicks the lights off. 

“Want me to restart it?” Jake asks, nodding to the now halfway finished movie. “No, I’m just gonna go to sleep.”

Jake hums in acknowledgement and flops out on his back. We lay in silence and I let the soft background noise lull me to a state of comfort for the first time today. Just as I’m on the precipice of sleep, I feel Jake shift beside me. 

“Hey Bub,” he starts. “Mhm,” I reply, eyes still closed.  “I know you’re hurting. But I know that it’ll work out. And if it doesn’t work out on its own, I know you’ll make it work out. You’re resilient.”“Jake,” I groan, “Please stop being nice to me.” “Not being nice, just honest.”

He is right, I am resilient, I do make things work for myself if the universe won’t make them work. I breathe a massive sigh, but eventually drift off to sleep with hope in my heart from Jake’s words. 

__________________________________

I wake in the morning to the smell of bacon and my stomach growls. 

Yeah, dummy. You didn’t eat last night. 

I stand up from the makeshift bed and stretch my limbs.

Getting a little bit too old to sleep on the floor like that, I think as one of my knees pops in protest. 

I make my way into the kitchen with hopes that Jake will part with one piece of his bacon. When I round the corner, I see that Jake hasn’t just prepared himself breakfast, but he’s prepared an entire spread. 

“Feeding an army?” I joke, as I walk up to our cabinet and grab a coffee mug down.  Jake jumps at my words and sets his phone down.  “Fuck, you scared me,” he chuckles, “No, I just assumed you didn’t eat yesterday and didn’t know what you’d want. So, there’s an array.” ”It’s like 7:30 in the morning, Jake. You got off at 2 and then stayed up with me. Why are you already awake?” “I don’t require as much beauty sleep as you do.” “You say that, but maybe you should try. Could be the reason you don't have a girlfriend.” “Oh, hush it and come grab a plate.”

I pile a plate high with various items. Pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit that Jake apparently had time to cut up.  Wouldn’t be shocked if he actually went to the farmers market this morning. He’s such a mother. 

I begin shoveling food into my mouth, not even bothering to sit down. I glance back at Jake, and find him on his phone again. 

”Who could you possibly be texting this early?” ”The boys,” he waves a hand as if to say no one important.  “Wait,” I say, popping a few grapes into my mouth, “Do you all have a group chat without me in it?” ”Joshua, where are your manners?” He chides. “Don’t try to distract me,” I say around my mouthful, “Do you have a group chat without me?”  “Not one that we use regularly,” he rolls his eyes as if I’m the stupidest person in the world.  “Do you use it to talk shit about me?” I puff my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.  “No, but we’re about to start if you don’t stop pouting at me.” ”I had the worst day of my life yesterday, and you’re talking shit about me in a separate group chat?” ”I’m glad to see your not annoying at all sense of humor is still intact,” he peers up at me from behind his reading glasses, “it was kind of touch and go last night.”

I bark out a laugh. 

“No, really, I was just texting them to see if one of them could open the bar today.” “I don’t need to be on a watchlist or anything, Jake. You don’t have to have them open.” “I know you don’t,” he scoffs, “but I still want to be around if you need me. 

My heart tugs again. He’s putting his work day on hold because he wants to make sure I don’t need him. 

“You’re, uh. You’re—“ I start, then stop, “I’m glad the universe stuck us together.”  “I know that you’re emotionally distressed right now, so I’ll forgive the lack of flowery language.” “Oh shut it. I love you a lot. And I’m really thankful that you are my brother.”

I smile at him from across the table and tuck back into my plate. 

“Oh,” he starts, “I also already texted your boss and said there was a family emergency, so you’re off work for the next few days.”  “Thank you, I absolutely would have accidentally no-showed.”  “I know, but that’s what I’m here for,” he responds as he reaches out to pat my arm. 

For the gazillionth time since last night, I can’t help but think of how lucky I am to have Jake. 

I’ll pay him back for this one day, I swear it. 

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[multiversxwhore]

Netflix n chill

a/n: Just warning you guys, this is unedited, it's another one of my nonsense one shots. Where here for a good time not a long time type of ordeal. I was just so desperate to create something, and this idea would not leave me once I thought of it. Then I found out that MBJ loves anime so here we are. Enjoy, please reblog, and comment.

Pairing: Michael B Jordan x Black!oc

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

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‘Kissin and hoppin they caught us, whether they like it or not, I wanna show you off…’ Doja Cat’s Agora Hills plays in the background. Mike had come over early that morning to spend the day with me. We were supposed to go out, but in the midst of me finishing up getting ready, things took a different turn. “Damn you look good, what’s that Fenty?” He stuck his head through the bathroom threshold, his chocolate eyes held something anamoros within them, and his lips were pulled back in a playful smirk. His dimples pressing into his cheeks adding a youthful flair to him. I turn the upper half of my body to him, in only my bralette and matching panty, his eyes drop to my booty. I grin as the beat drops again, he’s already taking off his denim jacket, and throws it over the door. 

“Hold my hand, you can hit while they watch boy.” I sang along to the words, and rolled my body to the tempo of the music, one arm in the air. I hike my knee up on the bathroom face bowl, and pop my butt back. Mike grabs a handful of me with both hands, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, and inhales my perfume. Butterflies flutter at the pit of my stomach turning into desire, and traveling down right between my thighs. It reminds me of the first time we officially met each other inside the Met. 

“Norielle Woodard! Look at you, you look ethereal. C’mon over here and talk to me.” Cardíerre Taylor-Johnson stood off to the side with a microphone in hand in front of a cameraman, and question cards in hand. Norielle carefully made her way over to her long time friend, and co-star, making sure not to trip in her heels. Seeing her cry for help through her almond shaped eyes, Cardíerre reached out a hand to steady Norielle. The theme that year was ‘All The Stars: Self Expression Through Fashion’ Cardíerre was fitted in a  Thierry Mugler dress. From the breast to waist is a golden plated cast, with pinkish-rose gold chiffon fabric. She looked like a Roman goddess. 

“You look gorgeous as fuck, what the fuck Cardi?” Norielle’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened in astonishment, and took a step back to get a better look. Cardíerre let out an airy laugh, her smile bright, and her teeth perfect. Before Cardíerre could speak, Norielle’s eye dropped down to Cardíerre’s breast, “Goddamn.” She blurted out, the look on Cardíerre’s face caused Norielle to burst out into laughter. 

“Jesus Nori, my eyes are up here.” The two friends giggled for a moment, it took Nori a few extra minutes to contain her laughter. Cardíerre rolled her eyes as she’s had enough of the goofiness, finally the interview was on its way. They chatted for a moment about the Met, and how amazing it felt for them to be surrounded by so many of their idols. 

“So, we talk about fashion all the time, and how we try to incorporate our personalities into a bit of everything. Tell me what does tonight’s theme ‘All The Stars’ mean to you?” Cardíerre held the mic for Norielle to speak into. It didn’t take her long to think of her answer, “Well, if you think about the stars, and constellations in the sky at night, they all shine differently. Each constellation has a different shape from the other, and tells a different story, with a specific purpose. Ya know, I’m very dramatic, and I’ve been inspired by alternative, gothic like fashion since I was a young girl. So I was blessed enough to have been able to work with Alexander McQueen, and we collaborated on this dark victorianish design. And I just love it so much, with the  florentine neckline to show off my twins, it’s also vegan leather and it’s giving medieval.” Norielle paused to let out a giggle, she took a breath before she carried on, “So that’s what I think we are meant to showcase tonight as stars in our own right. Showing our individuality through fashion, and oh, how everyone looks so stunning. Everyone really brought it this year, and I’m gonna shut up before I start crying.” Norielle pulled a tissue from her small clutch and dramatically damped her eyes. As the interviewer is wrapped up, and the two said their goodbyes Norielle made her way towards the notorious red carpeted staircase that led inside. 

All was going well, she moved up the stairs slowly, or as slowly as was humanly allowed without looking like you were on an acid trip. She stood mid way up the staircase, posing so that her curves were more defined, she gave the photographers as many pictures as she could. Eventually enough was enough. By the time Norielle turned to take another step up she missed a step, and tripped. In an attempt to not fall face first she put her arms out in front of herself, and it did soften the blow. Audible gasps of shock, and worry could be heard all around her, she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the stairs. Only a few seconds had passed —though it felt like an eternity—when someone’s large hand gently touched my shoulder. Norielle lifts her head to see Micheal B Jordan standing over her with his other hand extending in offering. When their eyes locked something like a static shock sent a wave of rejuvenation through her nervous system. She knew he too felt the same thing, he looked taken aback by their sudden connection. Norielle took his hand, he grasped her firmly, and let her weight lean on him as she pushed herself upwards. 

“I just embarrassed the fuck out of myself.” She whispered with a shaky voice, eyes burning with unshed tears, and a nervous smile on her glossed lips. Still holding onto her hands, he gave them a reassuring squeeze, and held her gaze. “Don’t even focus on that, let’s keep moving up, and then we’ll be inside.” Wordlessly Norielle nodded her head in agreement allowing Micheal to link arms with her as they ascended the stairs. Her heart was pounding so hard it nearly caused her pain, but then his voice began to speak calming words in her ear. In the midst of all the camera clicking, eager photographers fighting for the best shot, and buzzing conversations, they clung to each other the rest of the night. 

When the night wrapped up, Cardíerre and the rest of Norielle’s friends were stealing her away for the evening. She managed to get his phone, and add herself as a contact as ‘Nori.’ When he called her at 5am the next morning they talked for hours, the beginning and of an inseparable relationship. 

I planted glossy kisses all over Mike’s face, pressing my lips to wherever she could. His muscular arms pull me in impossibly closer, my arms wrap around his shoulders. Some would say our relationship is dramatic, but I would call it passionate. “So I take it we’re not going out anymore?” His grip relaxes upon hearing the strain in my voice, his lips graze over the shell of my ear barely kissing it before he pulls back. “Yeah no, I’m not feel it anymore baby.” He apologizes sheepishly, a feeling of relief washes over me because once he came in here with his bullshit I was no longer in the mood to be outside in the public either. That’s just how our relationship went, majority of the time we’re the same person, and I couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Raising Canes?” I offer playfully, a knowing grin growing onto my lips, Mike pulls back, and his own smile mirrors mine. The dimples in his cheeks become more prominent, he dips his head down to kiss both of my breasts, the giggle that came from me turns into full laughter. “You go get changed, I’ll finish getting ready and we’ll just go get food and come home.” I pushed away from him halfheartedly, only after sneaking one last kiss from me did he leave me be. 

On our way to Raising Canes the radio blasted too loudly for either of us to hear how terrible we actually sounded. I turned it down for a moment and turned to him from the passenger side of the car. “So, what do ya wanna watch while we eat?” We pulled into the drive through, as we sat in line, and waited for our turn to order Mike thought hard about it. A smile breaks out onto my face, I can practically see him doing the math in his head. “Hey, I take my tv watching to eating ratio very seriously.” He quips half heartedly, finally after what felt like forever he lets out a breath, “You know what I’m gonna say right?” 

“Naruto?” I guessed without hesitation, now his smile mirrors mine, he leans in closer to me from his side of the car, his lips curl into a smirk. “Me, and you…right here.” He taps his temple with his index finger, and extends his hand for me to dap him up. “Same wavelength baby.” The hand slap turns into the fireball jutsu hand sign from Naruto, Micheal took what felt like hours teaching me that, so best believe we use any opportunity to do it. When it was our turn we ordered our usual combo meal, with extra fries, and sauce, then made our way home. As soon as my feet touched the inside of the house I was already sliding my shoes off, and removing my sweat pants. I got comfortable on the couch as I waited for Micheal to settle next to me, when I turned to see his bare legs I nearly choked on my spit from laughter. “What? I wanna get comfortable too!” I didn't even respond to him, instead I turned my focus to the tv, and turned on Netflix. Relaxing on the sofa, and watching anime, in my underwear was not how we thought the day was going to go. But I’d rather be doing this. Three episodes in, and half eaten take out, We were cuddled up on the couch in the living room with the tv blasting. I had just begun to doze off when I felt Michael hand slip into my underwear, and squeeze my booty. When I look up at him, his eyes move from the tv to me, the lust from earlier had crept its way back in, and I knew he wasn't going to let me sleep till he ate his desert…to be continued

Quick tags: @cardierreh15 @insatiableorsmthn

[arclic-stuff]

Symbiotic Relationship - Chapter 1

PAIRING: Grayson x fem OC

SUMMARY: Besides her agreement with Zander, Grayson communicates with a reliable informant—her ex-wife, Tatianna. Tatianna is a Zaunite Merchant—a caterer by day and a smuggler by night. Together, they try to maintain peace between their cities, benefiting each other greatly and creating a symbiotic relationship they both have been craving. 

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hehe guess who's finally posting! It's been hard finding the time to write and figure out the structure for this story but at least it's starting haha. Very excited to share it and write more of the chapters. I hope y'all enjoy it. Have no idea how quick I'll do the next chapters but I'm sure it'll be soon:)))

______________________________________________________________

Festivities were in full swing within the Piltover Country Club as the Kirammans prepared for an afternoon of celebrations. Outwith its walls in the calm countryside, two competitors engaged in friendly conversation. 

"I'm an enforcer. For me, knowing how to handle this weapon means being able to protect people. To be of service to the city. And that's trophy enough. Begs the question, young Kiramman. What are you shooting for?"

Before the girl can respond, her mother, Cassandra, beckons her inside. She dashes up the steps, stopping to look back at Grayson. "This isn't over, Sheriff," she narrows her eyes, pouting as she ascends the steps into the building.

Grayson continues to embrace the calm silence, the smell of the forest, and the taste of her wine. She takes one final inhale before acknowledging the familiar figure hiding in the background since she came outside.

"Are you going to lurk in the shadows all night, Ms Brauer?"

With that, Anna Brauer strides into view, her heels hitting the stone pavement and her jacket drifting in the breeze. Dawning an olive green jacket, she was also clad in an all-black suit, her white skirt's top buttons undone, showing her jewellery cluster around her neck. Her long black hair was pulled into a bun, elevating her appearance and almost making her look taller. Grayson made note of Tatianna's grey strands twisting around her head; she had finally stopped dying over them, which Grayson found admirable.

"Just making sure I didn't interrupt the fan club," Anna says, standing parallel to Grayson and leaning on the balcony.

Grayson chuckles. "She's a good kid. She means well."

"She insinuated that you took a bribe and threw the competition." Anna raises an eyebrow and looks at Grayson.

"Aw, protecting my honour? You'll make me blush," Grayson jests, poking Anna with her elbow, making the smaller woman roll her eyes in response.

"Just think the little gremlin should watch her tongue", Anna uttered at a lowered volume, tilting her head towards the party where the girl was now socialising.

Grayson moves closer to whisper, "You should lower your voice, dear. That 'gremlin' is the daughter of a councillor." She chuckles. "And besides, you know I'd never take a bribe". 

Anna put her hands up in surrender. "Or throw the competition? Right?"

Grayson doesn't respond; she simply rubs the back of her neck, looking anywhere but Anna's suspecting eyes.

"Oh, for fucksake, Grayson!" Anna groans, slapping Grayson on the forearm.

Grayson blocks the last few playful hits, laughing in the process. "What! She deserved the win! She's had a hard time with exams, and Cassandra put a lot of pressure on her to do well today. And anyway, I'm not beating my goddaughter."

Grayson had been a close friend of the Kiramans for a few years before Caitlyn was born, but it was still a surprise when Cassandra asked her to be her Godmother. As strange as it felt, it was one of the best things in her life—watching her grow up, teaching her to shoot, be headstrong, and do all the other things she had hoped to do one day with her own family.

Anna sighs, shaking her head. "You've gone, soft, Gray," she says before reaching into her jacket for a beige folder — the main reason for their meetup.

This month's conclusive report focused on the City of Zaun and all notable events or changes within its walls. Anna reluctantly slid the folder to the Sheriff. Even though she knew logically it was for the best, she still couldn't help but feel like a traitor to her people and to her home. The report showcased lists of new businesses, crime states, and this month's headliner: the death of a Chem-Baron.  

Although Chem-Baron Arlo passed peacefully in his sleep, he left behind chaos as his sons fought for the family business.

"All I can say is that I hope the youngest son doesn't take over; Finn is ambitious but reckless; Zaun doesn't need that" Anna waits for a response, then glances over to Grayson, reading, entirely focused on the pages in front of her. Anna takes the opportunity to watch her for a moment. She watches as her eyes dart across the pages, breathing steadily through her nose, the breeze shifting her hair into her eyes. As she flicks to the last page, her expression shifts from concentration to mild irritation, furrowing her brows before speaking.

Anna knows exactly what she's reacting to. Twice a year, Anne has a large shipment of stock transported into Zaun via Piltover's trade routes. Anne gets two shipments that aren't inspected yearly in exchange for being an informant. She uses this for her more valuable goods like medicine for the Zaun shelters - in the past, the shipments have been 'lost' or 'confiscated' by the enforcers with legal loopholes purely because of the shipment's destination. Grayson's leniency allows essential medicine to reach Zaun's unfortunate, something she holds onto to try to forget the dubious contents hidden within.

"This shipment is way bigger than last time." Grayson looks up accusingly, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"The demand increased; it's for the—" Anna tried to explain the changes but was cut off by a raised hand.

"I don't want to know Tatianna" Grayson sighed, shutting the folder in her left hand and downing her drink with the other. She regrets using that tone with Anne but doesn't want to know. She knows Anne has to smuggle for unsavoury clients to pay the bills and that the jobs allow her to give back to the poorer Zaunites, but it still makes Grayson feel dirty like she's no different from the corrupt enforcers she swore to root out.

It's for the greater good; it helps Zaun and Anna.

Anna felt the atmosphere shift and was reminded of the distance between them. It didn't happen often, but sometimes, when interacting with Grayson, Anna would be transported back to when they first met, when things were simpler. When she broke from this trance, she would feel the emptiness in her chest that always lingered in Sheiff's presence. As soon as she felt it creeping back in, she ran.

"As always, Sheriff, it's been a pleasure. See you next month," Anna said with a comedic curtsey before turning on her heels to walk past Grayson. However, before she could take her first step to freedom, Grayson stepped in front, slighting her, stopping her in her tracks.  

"Are you not staying?" Grayson sheepishly asked, avoiding eye contact. She knew the answer, but every time Anna tried to make a speedy exit, Grayson would try to make her stay in a last-ditch attempt to reminisce for a little longer in the fantasy.

"I can't. I have a meeting with a new client in the morning, some industrialist is looking for a new trade route. I'll see you around Gray." As she walks around Grayson to leave, she gives Grayson's shoulder a light squeeze. To onlookers, it was a subtle goodbye gesture, but they both felt Anna's hand linger a second longer than it should.  

Grayson is left outside alone, her own hand replacing Anna's, where she touched her shoulder moments ago. She looked out at the grounds, which were now shrouded in sunset lighting. The same surroundings Grayson had found peace in now felt cold and empty. Cold and empty like the house the first day she came home without Anna there to greet her. Even after all these years, Grayson always felt this way after their meetings. She wondered if Anna ever felt the same; maybe she had moved on or was just as miserable as Grayson felt now - Grayson didn't like either option for her ex.

Feeling her thoughts spiral, she shook her head and took a deep breath.

What good will those thoughts do? It's all in the past now, and that's where it should stay.

[khlorhine]

Jjk oc infodump part 2

I would've shaded it but I had trouble with the lips so I gave up. It's a part two because it's a second info dump on my ocs. The first one is here. Please ask me questions about him or just anything else I want to talk to people please

Takayoshi Kamo 孝吉 加茂

The characters in his first name mean respect and lucky.

Innate technique: Luck Phenomona

Where the phenomenon comes in is it makes things that are impossible, possible. For example if his luck is good, cursed energy will clump up around him and form into little shikigami fishes (these are called lucky catches) and since Kyoto is that capital of curses, it'll be hard for him to run out.

Everytime he lands a hit, the excess cursed energy increases one of any of his imaginary luck stats. Those stats are: jackpot chance (for gambling), critical hit/black flash chance, accuracy, evasion, and lucky catches which are fish shikigamis manifested from his domain.

During a long battle they stack up and if they somehow manages to rack up 100% on any luck stat he can release it all in a large black flash, resetting that particular stat to zero. At that point, he's kind of unlucky and has to rely on skill or his other luck stats. He can't pick what stats they go into but if his jackpot chance is high then it'll more than likely go into a stat that he needs in that moment in time.

He also expels excess cursed energy during the day like any non-sorcerer would who can't control their cursed energy. That cursed energy can also go into his luck stats but since he's not in a fight they actually go to other stats like finding money in the ground and stuff like that. It's more beneficial for him to do this and he forces himself to exert more cursed energy than he normally does just to increase his luck but due to a binding vow to increase his luck it makes more tried through the day.

The lucky catches summon fish shikigami randomly which he can catch with a fishing rod and regain the loss cursed energy from his exertion. They aren't as good as the fish in his domain because they don't give him buffs but he can throw them at people to attack them.

He has good cursed energy control despite this as it's more beneficial for him to finish a fight like a normal sorcerer rather than stall it out hoping one of his stats reaches 100% for him to execute a black flash because of the off chance that it might not work.

He can’t use conventional weapons because they break when cursed energy is imbued too quickly into them which always happens during a black flash. He has a fishing rod with a bindow vow that prevents black flashes when he’s in contact with the tool in exchange for increased cursed energy output since his is relatively low. He uses the rod to gather lucky catches and recover lost energy.

Takayoshi can't directly see how lucky he is but he can tell when he can or can't execute any phenomena based on his gut feeling.

He's only semi first grade despite his seemingly infinite amounts of cursed energy. He's not weak in any way, most sorcerers are second grade after all, but he can't help but feel disappointed because this is what's expected if someone from a big clan like him. His attacks just aren't strong enough to consider him for first grade, especially when his domain expansion isn't an offensive one.

At his peak luck, Takayoshi can beat first grade curses and select special grades but since they're decently strong, he won't have enough time to build up that luck, he'd just get the shit beaten out of him.

His black flashes aren't always guaranteed in a fight. He used to hold the top record for most black flashes in a row but he usually spreads them out rather than go one after another.

His domain expansion, Luck of The Sea, is a non-lethal domain, similar to old style domains although his technique is relatively modern. Anyone who's in it is forced into a binding vow of non violence. It's activated through a special lucky catch with a seal on it (because idk where to find a hand sign for ebisu, the god I wanted his hand sign to be taken from) It forces all targets to participate in a fishing game that is rigged in the users favour. Fishes can either buff or debuff you, time limits are randomised but caps out at 30 minutes and afterwards Takayoshi’s technique becomes exhausted, forcing him to rely on the buffs gained from the domain. If Takayoshi gets a good catch right off the bat, he’ll tear down the domain so his technique can recover faster, cashing in on all the effects.

I've thought about the technique a little and decided the fish thing only happens because he likes fishing. For other users of luck phenomena (if I ever decide they exist) ive thought of giving them the scrapped ideas for the technique which is being lucky enough to do double jumps and phase through walls. They also get the lucky catches except they're not fishes.

One of my irl friends helped me make this techwnie because they actually fish irl and at the time I kept sending them tinder profiles of men holding fish if I remember correctly.

Blood Manipulation

He didn’t initially have it but gains it later on. It's explained in the info section. His special twist on the technique is creating almost fishing line strings to lacerate the skin before drenching them in blood. The cuts make it easy for his poisonous blood to seep into their bodies, it also makes it extra painful as it is literally eating away at their skin thanks to it’s corrosive properties. He’ll also use it to gather lucky catches.

Info: His job is mainly protecting the Kamo clan's cursed tool storage (which also houses the death paintings) but due to his luck nobody ever breaks in so he has a lot of free time.

He is the first born son of the 24th Kamo head, making him Noritoshi’s older half brother but unlike Choso he absolutely despises him. In Takayoshi’s eyes, he should've been the clan heir because out of his three legitimate siblings (meaning Noritoshi isn't included) he's the only one who managed to get a technique. For someone who's cursed technique is luck, he wasn't lucky enough to inherit the clan's technique.

Takayoshi has always seen non-sorcerers as inferior beings but he knows they have to exist because he doesn't want to do normal people stuff and the more people under him the higher he is on a food chain or something I don't know how to describe it. He just likes being superior to everyone else.

Since he hates Noritoshi so much he's been working with curse users to find out a way to take away someone's technique. He's such a big hater that he even lies to his previous classmate, Yuki Tsukumo, about agreeing with her goals of ridding the world of cursed energy just to take his brother's worth away from him. Takayoshi doesn't actually agree with taking away cursed energy because obviously that would take away the only thing that makes him better than most other people.

I feel like I should elaborate on the classmates part with Yuki Tsukumo because she's very underutilised for such a cool character but I don't really have much info made up about it. I guess he does feel kind of inferior when he's with her but he tries not to let it bother him because she's special grade, she's just like that. He doesn't want to take away her technique tho since he has no reason to even though he feels small compared to her because it doesn't affect him in any major way.

The 24th Kamo head looks really old and for some reason I decided to make Takayoshi 35. Yuki doesn't have a canonical age as far as I'm aware so she's 35 too ig. I also made the parents of my other oc (Tamaki Kitagawa) 35 and for some reason decided Noritoshi's mom should be around 35 too and on an unrelated not since that ocs parents were in the same class as Kusakabe that makes fanon him also 35. This makes Takayoshi not like his dad very much because he left his mother for a younger woman that was the same age as him. I also made Takayoshi's mom a redhead with curly hair.

During a fight his jackpot luck gets to 100% and he consumes the 4th death painting, Noranso to get an edge in battle. The reason it wasn’t 1-3 was because they're classed as special grade and Takayoshi knows he won’t be able to control them as they’re all stronger than him. Jokes on him, luck phenomena slowly starts to consider Noranso (that's the canon name for the 4th death painting) as one of it’s users and slowly he integrates into Takayoshi’s body, so slowly to the point where they’ve essentially become one and his luck favours Noranso too.

He gets his ass beat by the linked oc up there. I think mentioned she took away his technique but I'm not too sure if i should keep that fact. Idk I'd have to write it out first in the actual fic I'm doing which yay I'm on chapter nine of the first fucking arc not even half way through and this oc in in like the third arc if I'm being honest I'm gonna cry.

His silhouette looks human like Choso and Eso due to the fact that when Noranso was incarnated into him. Takayoshi originally had control so it shows in his appearance. He does have a few markings on his face. He also has blood manipulation and corrosive blood.

After Noranso’s incarnation, Takayoshi became more friendly and less conniving. It’s really jarring for Noritoshi because suddenly his half brother who he though hated him is now acting all nice and shit to him.

Inspirations

Osamu Dazai (not like the actual Osamu Dazai I mean the isekai anime boy version of him in “No Longer Allowed in Another World”. Takayoshi isn't suicidal, I just thought his hairstyle and clothing was neat so I look it from him 😈 its the unoriginality in me)

Kinji Hakari (it’s the luck and gambling)

Senku Ishigami (he mentioned somewhere that science doesn’t rely on luck and another one on the characters mentions that he’s really unlucky for some reason so I thought I’ll make a scientific-ish character who’s really lucky)

Ebisu (one of the seven lucky gods, Ebisu is the god of fishing, wealth and fortune. I wanted to take his hand sign for a domain so badly but every picture of him was holding a fishing rod or a fish)

Tinder male dating profiles (it's the fish)

[andalasia]

hellos. dusting off my old sideblog to throw up this request bc that feels like a good idea. i've responded to a couple other searches, so i'm realistically not looking to take on too many more. little bit about me, i'm a 29 man, live in the central timezone [ i think technically it's cdt bc it's currently july... but don't quote me on that ], used to consider myself a reader reader but me and the books have been beefing these past few months so that isn't occurring as frequently. maybe because i've been giving rp more attention. i've been rping since at least 2009, but most of that has was on forums like proboards/invisionfree/jcink. i have only recently really been a discord rp girlie

really only looking for m/m plots at this time. mayhaps one day i will go back to doing hetero ships, but for the time being that's not really something that interests me. i don't have a robust collection of muses that i pull out of rotation, that's just never been how i rp... if you see a guy on my main blog [ blakegallo ] the odds are that i would use them as a face. because i cut my teeth on forums i do typically only use actors, musicians, and the occasional model as faces; i typically steer clear of people who social media people. it's really just a matter of personal preference. i am willing to consider a fandom based rp, but would prefer something that is more oc x oc.

as far as preferences go i do write in the third person past tense. i don't really have any interest in breaking the discord message character limit for replies. i would never do a one liner, but a nice well developed paragraph or two is usually good enough for me. i like there to be something to respond to and get a nice back and forth going. i've seen a lot in my decade plus in the rp community and i've definitely done responses that are what the girlies call novella length now and that's just not something i'm super invested in returning to at this time. i don't have any interest in rping in dms, i think that things are just more organized in a private server. i also prefer for new threads to be individual channels just because i find that easier to scroll back through than one general channel, but that's me. i am a tupperbox girlie... and so i do have a slight preference for using them. it's not a requirement by any means, i have more 1x1s that don't use them currently than do, but just throwing that out there. i also find that doing something mumu is just easier for me with the tupperbot, but we can make it work if you aren't for it.

as a sidenote, i also do really love text threads. in my time perusing the the tags i'm not sure if this common because so many of the requests i see are for the novella level girlies. but sometimes i might have time for some quick banter between our characters. i also find that characters texting leads to where a next thread should go. as a vibes girlie i just like letting the characters sort things out sometimes than us as muns going back and forth figuring out where the plot should take them next.

plotting for me tends to be more organic. i really don't like to get too far ahead of ourselves. to me it's like writing a romance novel, we know these characters are eventually going to get together, but the journey to that destination can be whatever we make for it. so the ups and downs and angst along the way is what makes it fun. obviously i'm all for tossing ideas back and forth about how we think we should handle something or where we should go next, but i don't really have any interest in outlining the whole journey and then just hitting the beats.

so please be 21+, 25+ honestly would be even better and like this if you're interested. i might read the occasional high fantasy book, but that's not a thing i am all that interested in. i might be up for something vaguely paranormal, but i'm really more a regular person writer. give me the lives and the rich and famous or mess happening in suburbia... i'll reach out from my main blog in tumblr dms and we can go from there if we think it could be a good fit.

[thatdamnmutt-exe]

Stitches - Trevor Philips

AN:

Haha haven't posted a smut in a hot minute. I have 6 drafts saved but I need the motivation to finish them.

Pairing:

Trevor Philips x Male!OC (Name: Jynx)

Plot:

Trevor shows up at Jynx's house, needing a place to lay low. Jynx allows it cuz they've been friends since Jynx was like 19. One day, his ex decides to peep through the windows and Trevor sees it so he takes him inside and makes the man watch as he gives Jynx the best sex of his life. (idea based from @stat1cstarz - go read it! it's really fuckin good)

Warnings:

Sex, NSFW Shit, Age Gap, Voyeurism, Choking, Squirting, Hair Pulling, Hickeys, Possessive Trevor if you squint, FtM Pre Bottom Surgery, and It's a Trevor smut so it's gonna be a lil weird.

Song:

Stitches - Orgy

"Someday soon you'll find that someone, waiting for the chance to beat you." ______________________________________________________________

“Get the fuck out of my house! God, everyone was right about you, and right that I was an idiot to let you stay here!” Jynx yelled at the naked man on his couch that was now his ex boyfriend.

“Woah, woah, slow down! You can’t just kick me out. I have nowhere to go!” He pleaded. Jynx didn’t care though, he grabbed the man’s clothes before yanking him off the couch and pulling him to the door.

Opening it and throwing the bigger man out along with his clothes, he yelled, “Go stay with the skank that you just had your dick inside of on my couch!”

Jynx slammed the door, vibrating the room as it did. He moved back to his living room, deciding how he wanted to deep clean the juices off his expensive couch.

Two hours had gone by since Jynx threw his ex boyfriend out of the house. He had decided to throw out the couch and order a new one, not even wanting to attempt to clean the stains out.

Two hours go by as Jynx searched through furniture stores to find a better couch when he was interrupted by his door bell.

He sighed and got up from the kitchen table to go see who it was. “Jake, I swear to god if it’s you-“ He opened the door to be met with his long time friend, Trevor.

“Heyyyy! Jynx! My main man- my compadre!” He walked in past Jynx who still was collecting himself from Trevor’s sudden appearance.

“What do you want Trevor?” His voice came out annoyed and irritated on accident. He followed Trevor who ended up in the living room and sitting on the couch before Jynx could warn him.

“Why is this couch wet? Did you and what’s-his-face do something?” He asked while standing back up.

Jynx grimaced and rolled his eyes. “No, he and another chick did. Since you’re here, come help me throw this couch outside.”

“Oh shit. I was waiting for this day, and I mean I told you he would that-“ Trevor started but was cut off by Jynx snapping.

“Trevor, test my patience, I dare you.” He glared at the older male who only put his hands up in surrender while chuckling.

“Calm yourself sugar, I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I only need to lay low for awhile.” He moved to the other side of the couch to help move it outside.

“Always using me for something, huh Trevor.” He muttered while also moving the couch. “Fine. You can stay here, but you’re showering everyday and putting on clean clothes. You smell like ass.”

The two moved the couch out of the house, setting it on the curb before going back inside. Jynx sent Trevor to the bathroom to take a shower before going to grab some other clothes from the guest room for Trevor.

Trevor had stayed with Jynx enough so where the guest room basically became his room with some clean clothes in it. Jynx had come to know Trevor when he turned 19 and was hanging out with Tracey. The two connected in a weird way and it started out as Jynx looking up to Trevor.

Jynx was 27 now and now considered Trevor to be a close friend. There was also something about the older man that Jynx couldn’t help but be attracted to. He ignored this feeling though, feeling ashamed of it.

He moved to sit at the other couch that sat in the living room, silently thanking his parents for giving him a house where it was big enough to have two couches in the living room. He turned on his current show, letting himself get lost in show, wanting to forget the previous moments from today.

He was brought out of his trace by Trevor stomping down the stairs, wearing only gym shorts. "Should we order some take out, kid? I'll pay." He said while moving to sit on the couch next to Jynx who was trying to avoid looking at Trevor's chest.

“Chinese?” He asked, little happiness coming through in his tone.

“Yes! You’re placing the order though! I don’t know how to fully work that app.” Trevor stated, pointing at Jynx as he did. He noticed that he was avoiding looking at him, he chuckled at it.

“You haven’t looked my way since I got back. Usually you hit me with a ‘you finally look like a human’ line.” He teased, scooting closer to Jynx who was trying to order the Chinese food. Jynx ignored Trevor’s comment and movement towards him, not wanting to give himself away.

He was forced to look at Trevor when the older man grasped his chin and faced Jynx towards him. “I’m talking to you, boy.” Trevor’s tone had gotten low and sort of sensual.

Jynx audible gulped, looking at Trevor who was only inches away from him. His other arm moved to wrap around Jynx's waist, holding him close. "Trevor... We can't- I just-" He tried to form words but his mind couldn't.

His heart was speeding, his breath ragged as he tried to push Trevor away but the older man kept his grip. The two stayed like that, their breath hitting each other as their gazes held lust for the other. Trevor ended up pulling away, not wishing to make Jynx upset or uncomfortable.

"I'll finish ordering the Chinese food." Jynx said, composing himself and trying to ignore the wetness that had built up between his thighs.

"Chinese food, right, you do that." Trevor shifted away from Jynx, grabbing a blanket to hide his lower half before going back to watching the show mindlessly.

- Time Skip -

It had been three months and Trevor was still hanging around, insisting that he keep Jynx company now that he didn't have his ex around. Jynx allowed him to stay of course, finding the most comfort in the crazy man.

Jynx was busy cleaning the house, wearing nothing but one of Trevor's oversized shirts and a pair of his own boxers. Jynx always liked to steal Trevor's clothes while he was around, saying the reason was that he liked how big they were on him.

Trevor didn’t mind of course, the younger was letting him live there, plus he found the boy cute in them.

The two had grown closer in that time frame, sharing secrets that haven’t shared before. They weren’t exactly dating but they acted like a couple and did coupley things.

Jynx wanted to get an official label on their relationship and find out Trevor’s real feelings for him, but he didn’t know how. He hoped to talk to Trevor later tonight about it.

It had grown late into the night with the time now reading 12:30 am and Trevor still wasn’t home. It wasn’t uncommon for Trevor to be out late, but tonight was different.

Jynx sat on the new couch, playing a video game that he had recently bought. He was in the middle of an intense scene when the door opened to Trevor and a man with a bag over his head.

“Trevor what the fuck?! I told you no hostages here!” Jynx hissed, pausing his game and standing up.

“Calm down sweetheart, it’s not a hostage. It’s your ex boyfriend!” He ripped the bag off of the man, leaving Jynx in shock.

“Why the hell is he here?!” Jynx’s face was angry and confused as he was trying to figure out why Trevor would bring him back into his house.

Trevor began tying the scared looking man to a kitchen chair. “Found him looking through the windows watching you while i was coming home! Figured we better show this rat a show he’d never forget.”

Jynx’s eyes widened at the information of his ex watching him. He felt icky and like his privacy was threatened. “What kind of show?” He asked confused.

Once Trevor finished tying the man up he turned to Jynx. A devilish smile graced his face as he moved towards Jynx, his arms going around the younger’s waist. “I think you know… I’ve seen how you around me and I know you like wearing my clothes for other reasons than them just being big on you.” He whispered in the younger’s ear.

Jynx felt a shiver go through him, his legs closed to try and calm the excitement that had filled him. “Guess I’m not good at hiding it as I thought I was.” He chuckled slightly. His arms moved to wrap around Trevor's neck, holding the man close to him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you, Trevor." He whispered.

Trevor licked his lips before grasping a hand full of Jynx's hair and pulling their lips together roughly. He tasted of cigarettes and alcohol along with a breath mint trying to hide it.

"Oh baby, I've been thinking about you for awhile. I'm gonna fuck you better than you've ever been fucked." He purred to Jynx before lifting the smaller and pinning him down on the couch.

Trevor's grasp on Jynx's hair became tighter as he moved the boy's head to the side so he could attack his neck with hickeys and bites. Jynx looked over at his ex who wanted to look away but couldn't. He watched Jynx's body and his facial expressions, his own filling with rage as he watched.

Jynx's legs moved up to wrap around Trevor's waist, thrusting his hips up against Trevor's, savoring the groan that had left the older's lips. "Mmm, fuck, Trevor." He moaned more. One of Trevor's hands slid between Jynx's thighs and into his boxers. "I've barely done anything but you're already soaked for me? Damn baby." He chuckled as his fingers began to move against the boy's soaked cunt.

Jynx's head fell as his back arched up against Trevor, a loud moan leaving his lips. Trevor's fingers felt so much better than he had been imagining. "Why don't we give our audience a better show? Show him what he lost when he decided to be a dick and cheat on you." Trevor chuckled and pulled his fingers away, earning a loud whine from Jynx.

Before the younger could protest, Trevor moved them so he was sitting up against the couch and moving Jynx on his lap, the boy's back against his chest. Jynx's boxers were removed from his body and his legs were spred open by Trevor's own legs. One of his hands moved to wrap around Jynx's throat, gripping it tightly.

"Come on sweetheart, don't be shy now. Show this cocksucker who you belong to now. Let him hear those pretty moans of yours." Trevor praised and he moved his other hand to rub Jynx's sensitive cunt again.

Jynx felt his head go dizzy as the lack of air flow hit him. He squirmed a bit as he moaned desperately against Trevor's fingers. He felt his climax building up within him. "Trev- mmm-" He whispered out, being so lost in pleasure he completely forgot about the man who was watching.

"Bet you never made him feel this good with just your fingers, huh buddy?" Trevor chuckled, biting down on Jynx's shoulder, drawing blood as he did.

Jynx moaned louder and more frequent as he was brought to the edge. The pleasure of Trevor’s fingers, the dizziness of being choked, along with the pain on his shoulder made him close control as he squirted on Trevor’s fingers.

“That’s it baby, that’s a good boy.” Trevor continued moving his fingers until Jynx’s high was rode out. Trevor released his grip from Jynx’s neck, allowing the boy to fall back against him and catch his breath.

“I’m guessing from the way you’re reacting, that was the first time you came so hard you squirted?” Trevor teased Jynx as he moved his hands down to his own pants to free his aching cock.

Jynx shook his head, biting his bottom lip he savored the high he was still coming down from. "Trev, where have you been all these years? No one has ever gotten me off that good." He turned his head and gripped Trevor's chin, forcing the older to face him into a deep, rough kiss.

"Jynx is lying to make me mad! There's no fucking way this fucking creepy old man is that good!" Jynx's ex spat, anger clear in his face as he tried to undo the bindings. It made him frustred to see someone else touching what he still claimed as his.

Trevor only laughed at the pathetic man, he pulled away from Jynx to look at the man bound to the chair. One hair gripped Jynx's hair tightly while his free hand moved to slap Jynx's dripping pussy, making the younger jolt up and moan. "I don't know kid, from the mess between his legs and on the floor, I would have to disagree." Trevor moved his cock between Jynx's folds, moving himself slowly to tease Jynx.

"What's that pretty boy? I can't hear ya, tell Uncle T how badly you want this." He sped up his pace a bit more, chuckling at how much Jynx was coming undone in his hold.

The younger tried to close his legs as the overstimulation hit him but Trevor's stronger ones kept them open. Tears fell from his cheeks as he just could only whimper and whine, his brain too desperate and clouded to form proper words.

"Come on boy, use your words otherwise I'll stop." Trevor instructed, slapping Jynx's thigh hard in the process. Jynx jolted up again before trying his best to form a sentence.

"N-no... mm... Don't stop! Trevor- please I need you." He moved his own hips against Trevor's cock, gaining more friction as he felt the older's tip rubbing against his clit.

"Need me where? Come on boy, don't half ass your words here." Trevor growled in Jynx's ear, slapping his thigh again.

"Inside! Please! Trevor!" Jynx cried, his own patience running out as all he wanted was to be stretched out by Trevor. The older man chuckled once more before giving into what Jynx was begging for.

He moved to push his cock inside Jynx, bottoming out as he pushed himself fully in. It didn't talk long for Jynx to adjust due to how wet he had become, allowing Trevor to start thrusting up into the younger boy. He released his hand that was in Jynx's hair to move under Jynx's thighs, holding him up a bit to allow him to thrust more into him.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room was the sounds of squelching, Jynx's moans, Trevor's grunting, and Jynx's ex yelling angrily while trying to get out of the ropes. Neither Jynx or Trevor paid much attention to the other male, too lost in pleasure to really care.

"More... please..." Jynx begged, his head now falling back against Trevor's shoulder as his hands gripped Trevor's forearms, his nails digging into the skin.

Trevor gave into Jynx, absolutely loving how he was able to give the younger so much pleasure. "Such a needy little thing." He teased, thrusting as hard and as fast as he could go.

Jynx felt his second orgasm building up in his stomach, his walls tightened around Trevor, signaling to him that Jynx was about to burst any moment. "Come on baby, show Uncle T and that pathetic excuse for a man just how good I made you feel." Trevor instructed, his own thrusts becoming sloppier.

Trevor's words made Jynx spill over the edge for the second time, coming hard around Trevor's cock while moaning the older's man name loudly. His walls squeezed Trevor harder, making him grunt against Jynx's shoulder. He thrusted one last time hard and deep inside of Jynx, allowing him to empty deep inside of Jynx.

Light thrusts went in and out of Jynx as the two rode out their high together. Trevor let go of Jynx's thighs and moved to wrap around the smaller's waist. He grabbed his face and kiss him deeply as he moved the younger to lay down on the couch. "Such a good boy you were. Rest a moment while I deal with this peeping tom."

Trevor turned his attention back to Jynx's ex, puting his pants back on before moving to undo the bindings. "Come on big man, you've had a good enough last show, time to get your real punishment." Trevor dragged the other male outside, blowing a kiss to Jynx as he did.

Jynx only laughed lightly, accepting the air kiss before moving to sit up and attempting to get up and clean himself up, only to fail and land on the floor. "I'll wait until he comes back." He thought out loud.

______________________________________________________________

"Drooling on the set to feel you, blessing you with every kiss."

[lxvejohnny]

the endless beginning

part ten

scream VI fanfiction with implied ethan x oc!

find the masterlist for this fic here. she is long and painful. enjoy!

That smile, that damned smile, was all too bright considering what he had just done. Amelie’s jaw drops as her eyes demand tears to her waterline again. She felt her heart break into thousands of little pieces, and she is sure that everyone else heard it as it shattered on the ground in front of them. This feeling of betrayal was all too familiar for her, and she wants to scream, yell at Ethan, yell at the detective, yell at the last unmasked Ghostface for what they have done to her. She wants to scream until her voice is raw and gone, hoping that someone can hear her frustration from outside of the city and come save her. She wants everyone around her, especially Ethan, to feel how angry she is about this whole situation, how she feels like her body is on fire and all she can see is red.

“What the fuck?” Amelie mutters in shock but the boy can’t bring his eyes to look at the expression on her face. He knows it will hurt, he knows he will falter, and he can’t. Not now.

“Mindy was right,” his smile doesn’t fade from his face as he continues to talk, but his gaze shifts between Sam and Tara, never making it to Amelie’s. His heart was beating faster than it was before; this was the moment, and he has been dreading it since the day he met Amelie. If he looked at her, he would break and he needed to do this. “It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you was room with the conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad!”

Amelie was disgusted. Chad was his friend, Chad trusted him.

“Fuck, it felt good to kill him!”

He was a psychopath, no real emotion had to have ever floundered through his body. Amelie wants to sob, she wants to throw up, and she wants to punch him, hurt him like he did to her.  Like he did to Chad.

“This was your grandmas, Sam; Nancy Loomis,” Ethan continues as he holds up his bloody knife and points it to his Ghostface mask in his other hand. His smile falters from his face as he continues to speak. “Really runs in the fucking family, doesn’t it?”

“Speaking of family…” the detective trails off, letting Ethan jump in again. The smile creeps back onto his sickening face and Ethan takes his que.

“My name’s not Ethan Landry, isn’t it dad?” Ethan turns to his dad, and they share a sick smile at each other. Amelie feels like her breathe got knocked from her chest again and her brain falters. Of course, his name wasn’t even his fucking name. Ethan Landry was a person Amelie wanted to love so bad, wanted to kiss and be held by, but this Ethan in front of her isn’t him. He is a psychopath who has been lying to her, to all of them this whole time.

“Dad?” Amelie almost shouts at him. Her jaw remains ajar and her eyes wide at the scene in front of her. She watches as the detective brushes the hair on Ethan’s forehead, chuckling as he does, visibly proud of his son. Ethan finally brings his eyes to Amelie’s and his smile drops from his face. He knows it was a bad idea to look at her, but he had to, he needed to see her face. The anger and betrayal on her face was almost enough to make him want to take back everything he said, and just reassure he that he still likes her so much, that he would never physically hurt her. Amelie tries to distinguish what emotions are swirling through Ethan’s eyes when they finally make contact with hers, but she can’t look past the pure evil that lays in them.

"I was always dreading this part, you know?" His tone could almost fool her to believe that he actually cares. "I never wanted you a part of this."

"I have always been a part of this, Ethan!" If that even was his name. She is so hurt, so angry that her stomach churns every time he even opens his mouth. His eyes soften the longer he looks at her and she genuinely thinks he is fucking crazy.

"Yeah, well, it almost screwed us over," Wayne jumps in, watching the longing gazes between his son and Amelie. Amelie finally looks away from Ethan when she hears another voice, confused by the detectives words. "My boy here-" patting Ethan's shoulder as he talks, "was starting to get a bit too sensitive. Trying to protect you from us..."

Wayne lets out a sadistic chuckle, looking back at his son with a smile that made Amelie feel even more sick. "...from him."

"Fuck you!" Amelie spits at the man. The smile never falters from his face and Amelie has never wanted to punch someone so bad. She knows her words mean nothing when these people are literal monsters.

"You know, if you weren't such a vital piece of this mission, you would make one hell of a killer," for once, she could possibly believe his words. Because right now she wants nothing more than to kill this man in front of her. Wayne's tone remains condescending, his ego far too large. Their current situation making him believe that he has succeeded. "But you aren't one; after all, you are too much like your dad."

"You know nothing about my dad!" Amelie is furious. She pushes past Sam's defensive arm but the two sisters grab her arms, making sure she doesn't get too close. Her hand gripping the brick so tight that her knuckles turn white.

Amelie looks back over to Ethan where his gaze was awaiting hers. She knows that they probably heard all about her dad through the movies, the books, the news, history, but she is sure that Ethan spilled his big mouth when she opened up to him.

"Dad," Ethan says in a warning tone. He knows how bad talking about her dad hurts her, and he can't keep watching it. His irritation only growing with his father as he talks to Amelie the way he is.

Sam finally quips him, drawing the attention away from Amelie.

“Wait, so, if it’s you two, that just leaves…” Sam trails off as she looks over to the last masked Ghostface and can’t help but think the worse. “…Mindy?”

“No, no, no, I saw her get stabbed,” Amelie says, her voice broken, and she has barely even talked yet. She peels her watering eyes away from Ethan and turns to also look at the last masked figure. She knows the only person left was Mindy, but it can’t be Mindy, there was no way.

“Hey roomies,” Quinn reveals herself and Amelie gasps. Both Tara and Sam widen their eyes and their mouths remain open as they stare in awe at the girl who they thought was dead. “Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?”

“Yeah because you died-“ Tara shouts at Quinn. The three girls can’t believe that they let themselves live with her, with a person who is trying to kill them. They all grieved her when they thought she died, Amelie felt the weight of her dead body on her and yet here she was, fine in front of her.

“-I kind of didn’t though, it was a good way to get off the suspect list,” Quinn talks so casually that it scares Amelie, way more than she was before. Ethan, nor Quinn, were who they said they were and she can’t believe that she let herself be so foolish for letting them into her lives so easily, thinking everything was going to be different this time. “Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train-“

Quinn turns to look at Amelie and glares into her eyes as she continues, “-almost, get you on the train. That sort of thing.”

Amelie scoffs as Quinn continues to look murderously into her eyes. She had so many questions, and she wasn’t quite sure where to even begin.

“Yep, and I just needed to get first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one; a little fake blood, a prosthetic. You’d be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with,” detective Bailey explains to the girls in front of him. As he continues, his two kids separate and surround the three in the middle. Quinn finally shows her mask and lets the girls know she got Stu Macher’s mask, saying something about how he was her favorite. Amelie’s eyes turn to Quinn’s and she glares at the girl. Stu was the one who reportedly killed her aunt Tatum, and now the girl who is trying to kill her, idolizes him. How fucking sick, she thought.

Amelie’s eyes finally turn around back to Bailey’s when she hears him about to explain the mask he was wearing. She stands on the opposite side of Sam, closest to Ethan and sees Bailey pull his mask out from his coat.

“This leaves your fathers, this is what we’ve been counting down to, Sam,” he only looks at Sam as he talks and begins to hand the mask closer to the older girl. “I’m gonna need you to put it on.”

“Fuck you!” Sam looks at the mask hard before shoving it out of her way and onto the ground. Amelie, from beside Sam, feels an arm reach out in front of her and push her backwards. She stumbles and catches herself on one of the glass displays beside her. She watches as Ethan swiftly pushed himself across the display he was across and swipes his other hand out at Sam, slicing her arm with his knife. He pushed her back to get her out of the way so he could get to Sam. Amelie’s eyes widen as she is now directly across Ethan himself and she stumbles her feet back, to get away from being so close to him. Ethan looks at her after he mocks Sam, making sure she was okay but is only disheartened when he watches her try to scramble away from him. She stands beside Tara as her eyes stay connected to his.

“You stay the fuck away from her!” Tara screams at him and she grabs onto Sam.

“Oh, come on,” Quinn moans out of complaint and Amelie turns to look at the girl. Tara pulls on Amelie’s arm to bring her in closer to them. Amelie furrows her eyebrows at Quinn and the redhead only glares further at Amelie. She shakes her head in question at Quinn, “what?”

“What?!” Quinn shouts at Amelie and points her knife at her. Ethan takes notice of his sister’s advancements and approaches her. “You! Is what!”

“Yeah?” Amelie only looks even more confused at Quinn, the girl has some issue with her and she isn’t quite sure what she did to deserve her hate. Amelie is scared, she can’t deny that, but she is also angry and figures that any question she may have had, now would be the chance to ask. “You were on the train, right? Why the hell did you say I was lucky?”

“Because, Amelie,” Quinn says her name in sickeningly sweet tone and doesn’t even blink as she stays focused on the girl in front of her. “I could never hurt you!”

“Ethan here-“ Quinn turns to her brother who is now beside her, looking at her with a hard expression on his face. “-wouldn’t fucking allow it! His stupid, little crush made him so protective over you that he begged us to not touch you…”

Amelie’s head is fuzzy once again and she feels like it was possible that Ethan did like her at one point. She still hates him, but Quinn is making her believe that Ethan was genuine at some point of their little relationship. Her eyes can’t stop shifting between Ethan who is looking at her with another unreadable expression and Quinn who looks ready to murder her.

“…In fact, he made us promise him that we wouldn’t. So, I went for Mindy on the train but god, Amie,” the tone in Quinn’s voice is back when she says her name again, like poison in her mouth. Quinn starts smiling at the girl and Amelie can only look at her as she continues, her heartbeat racing faster as she talks. “I could have got you; I could have finally killed you right then and there.”

“But you didn’t,” Amelie says pointedly, a small smirk almost apparent on her face and Quinn visibly doesn’t like that very much as her lip snarls even further. She was about to play with fire, and would it work out for her? Amelie was sure that it wouldn’t, but she saw her chance to take power back from Quinn and she needed to do it. “You backed off like a little bitch, because your little brother told you to.”

“Fuck you!” Quinn screams in her face and reaches forward to stab her knife into Amelie’s shoulder, the same side that Quinn sliced into on the train. Amelie gasps and reaches to hold her shoulder. Ethan yells his sisters name and pulls her shoulder back; he knows she angers easily but he told her not to hurt Amelie. He knew better than to believe that she would listen to him, anyways. They never did get along that well after becoming revenge seeking killers. Tara grabs harder onto Amelie’s arm and pulls her even closer to her and Sam after that.

“You bitch!” Amelie shouts at her as she clutches onto her bleeding shoulder, searing pain shooting throughout her whole left arm. “That’s why you hate me so much? Because Ethan liked me?”

Ethan catches the use past tense in her sentence and wants to cut her off, let her know that he still does like her, so much, but Quinn beats him to it.

“No, you stupid bitch!” Quinn screams at Amelie once again and Amelie can almost feel the heat radiating off of the girl, her anger bright like her hair.

“So, what? You did this as a family?” Sam looks around the three and cuts in. She pulls Amelie closer to her when she notices Quinn step closer to them again.

“Yeah, bitch, you should know better than anyone,” Quinn snarls at Sam and her knife stays pointed out at them, tauntingly.

“They’re still not getting it,” Ethan smiles amusingly and looks at the girls in front of him. Amelie clutches tighter onto her shoulder and blood begins to flow between her fingers holding the wound.

“Getting what?” Amelie asks Ethan. She was still so confused, and she was sure that both the sisters were to at this point. They were hinting at something, clearly their motive, but none of them could figure out what they were talking about.

“Look, I don’t know what you believe, but I didn’t commit those murders in Woodsboro! It wasn’t me!” Sam shakes her head furiously in denial as she tries to defend herself. That was the only possible reasoning that Sam could think of, but they knew that she wasn’t the one to commit those murders.

“No, we know that. Of course, you didn’t, what do you think this is based on? Some bullshit conspiracy?” Bailey replies back to Sam. “Come on, who do you think started those rumors about you in the first place?”

Quinn raises her knife equipped hand as her dad points to her. Amelie lets out a scoff in disbelief that they went that far ahead with their whole plan. The three turn their heads back around to Quinn as she begins to speak.

“Do you know how easy it was to turn Sam from the hero of Woodsboro, into the villain? How easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people, rather than the best?” Quinn shakes violently as she talks.

“Because it’s not enough to just kill someone these days. You have to assassinate their character first, so when dad here, discovers that your horribly mutilated body-“ Quinn takes a teasing jump at Amelie with her knife pointed and she gasps, pushing herself back in defense at the supposed attack. Quinn merely smirks at the girl before letting her brother continue, “-wearing her father’s mask, they’ll say some poor dumb bastard wrote on the internet that you’re the real Ghostface and took matters into their own, diluted hands.”

“You're fucking crazy!” Amelie speaks her thoughts immediately after Ethan finishes, shaking her head in disbelief at his words. He looks down at the girl, hurt at her words, though he expects nothing less. He knows he is hurting her, he expected this, but her reactions still wound him. Amelie couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, their plan to accuse Sam after they kill her just angering her further.  

“Shut up!” Quinn snaps at the girl. Ethan would be quick to defend his name if it were anyone else insulting him, but he just couldn't find the courage to when it was Amelie. He would let her shit on his name ever single day if that meant she would still talk to him. He would do anything to keep her around, keep her his.

“Exactly! That’s why it’s a perfect alibi. And all the best lies, are based on the truth. You’re a killer-“ Bailey points at Sam, “-just like your father.”

“No, I’m not!” Sam screams furiously at Bailey. Her conscious about her father has bothered her since the day she has found out about him and she was not going to have this psychopath tell her, her worst thoughts.

“And you…” Bailey turns to Amelie and points at her next. “...are going to be Sam’s accomplice, before turning into her next victim-“

“-What the fuck?” Amelie mutters at his ludicrous idea.

“You, still mad about what happened last year to your dad, are blinded by rage and are convinced under Sam’s manipulation to join her. She becomes like her dad and you seek revenge for yours-“

“What the fuck?!” Amelie shouts this time. Sam continues to shake her head beside Amelie and mutters no’s as Bailey talks.

“-before Sam becomes too much like her father, too consumed by the bloodlust, and slices you all up. Just like how your dad died,” Bailey finishes letting the girls know his scheme and Amelie can’t believe that he had planned all of this so far ahead, so thoroughly. She turns to Ethan where he looks both angry and confused. Almost as if this was the first time he heard of this plan, but he has experience in this act. He has done nothing but pretend around her and their friends.

“What are you talking about?” Ethan just about turns and asks his dad. He sounded angry, and he was, because he wasn’t told this plan. He was told the whole part up until Amelie getting killed, becoming like her father. Ethan figured that his dad was keeping something from him this entire time, he was always the least favorite, the least popular, and the disappointment out of the three kids. He’s sure he also wasn’t told about the final touches to the plans because he would do anything in his power to stop them.

“You were going to go along with this? This whole time?!” Amelie faces Ethan, fuming and screams at the boy. She has been waiting to do this, waiting to yell at him and it feels good. Ethan did look like he wasn’t aware of this whole plan, but she wasn’t going to let his facade fool her anymore. “You asked me to tell you about my dad, knowing this was all planned! You’re fucking sick!”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear I didn’t know about that whole plan,” Ethan tries to convince her and shakes his head in denial, but his voice is soft. He glares at his dad as he admits his unawareness, but his dad just gives him the same hard look back. “I did care, I did want to know.”

“Yeah, right,” Amelie scoffs at him, disgusted. “I have trusted you too fucking much this whole time. I can’t fucking believe you.”

Ethan continues to repeat no’s, wanting to prove that he was sincere with her before, but she turns away from him in disgust and looks at Bailey once again. He was loosing her more and more. “No one will believe you, Sam isn’t a murderer!”

“Yes, she is, you motherfucker!” Quinn screams at Amelie and she whips her head around to look at the crazed girl. Quinn turns her head to look at Sam, “you killed our brother!”

Realization dawns on the three girls slowly as the hear Quinn’s words. Amelie begins to realize that Richie, Sam’s boyfriend who turned out to be Amber’s, from last years Ghostface attacks is the brother that Quinn must be referring to. She looks at Ethan and sees the same pained expression painted over his face.

“What? But-but you told us that your brother died in a car accident?“ Tara begins, her eyebrows furrowed as she recalls Quinn's story. Amelie's expression mimics Tara's as she remembers the time she had asked Ethan months ago about his life story, wanting to know all about him. He hesitated and stuttered to begin but eventually told her that he was an only child.

"And you said you had no siblings?"

“No, no, no, you sweet dumb thing-“ Ethan begins, his eyes soft and voice quiet. Yeah, so he did lie to Amelie about his family situation but it wasn't like he could just tell her. He felt bad enough when he did lie to her in the beginning, anyways.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Amelie cuts him off harshly and she watches as his eyes drop. She knows that if times were different, her heart would have melted at those words coming from Ethan’s mouth, but this was different, and it can never be like that again. It was like there were two different people in Ethan right now. He would be so soft with her, try his best and prove that he was still a good guy, then become all crazed again and hungry for revenge and blood spill.

“He died in Woodsboro,” Ethan continues nonetheless and points his knife at Sam. “At the hands of this bitch.”

“You’re Richie’s family,” It all clicked for Sam and Tara now, and Amelie’s suspicion was confirmed. They were doing this for revenge, avenging their brother and son, Richie, who was killed by Sam back in Woodsboro. Amelie looks between the three and notices their hard faces now. Ethan’s glare, Quinn’s teary eyes and shaky hands, and Bailey’s heartbroken face whose eyes are also wet.

“And you, were Amber’s best friend,” Quinn adds, her voice quivering as she speaks as she points at Amelie once again. Amelie figures that Amber must have been close with their family since she was dating Richie, and looking at Quinn’s glaring eyes, Amelie also figures that she was doing this for Amber as well.

“That’s why you hate me so much?” Amelie asks the girl in realization, her voice almost at a whisper. “You were close with Amber?”

“She was my best friend. And you killed her,” Quinn is so angry at them, so full of hatred, and Amelie almost wants to applaud her for her act she had to put on. “We got along so well after Richie introduced her to us, and we became so close. She told me all about you when you guys first met; how close you two got and how you felt like a sister to her.”

Amelie felt her heart seize at Quinn’s words, her lips quivering just a bit. Amber meant everything to Amelie at one point and she fucking ruined her.

“But she was always a little crazy in the head, and then she found out that you were Dewey’s precious little girl and fuck…” Quinn smiles and her sickening tone reminds her of Amber, back when she finally reveled how she was. She can see how the two got along so well. “…She knew she had to have you.”

Amelie watches Quinn break in front of her and knows she is too far gone for any type of help. She was out to avenge more than just her brother, but also her friend. She was also so angry because her brother had this protection over the girl who she wanted to kill so badly, so she can finally get revenge for Amber.

“And I just knew that since Amber got the privilege of ending your daddy, the only way I could really make up for you killing Amber, was to do the favor of killing you,” Quinn takes a slow, menacing step towards Amelie and the girl takes one step back. Tara and Sam still hold onto the girl and pulled her closer into them. Ethan also takes a step closer to his sister as he watches her advance for the second time tonight, he knows how bloodthirsty his sister is, but he vowed to protect Amelie, and he will. “Avenge her by ending the bitch that killed my best friend and killing the daughter of her greatest kill.”

"Watch it, Quinn," Ethan pipes up, the same warning tone he had earlier. Quinn will not kill her, not on his watch.

"Oh man up, you pussy," Quinn snaps at Ethan, turning for a second to glare over at him.

“You know, I can see how you and Amber were so close, Quinn…” Amelie begins, she feels angry all over again. Quinn looks over at the girl again. Amelie could barely even register the flaming pain in her shoulder from the stab and could only focus on her roommate in front of her. She thought of her dad, and she thought of Wes as she stared at Quinn. “You both were fucking crazy.”

Amelie scoffs and shakes her head at Quinn, a small smirk making a way to her face once more. She glances over at Ethan as well, making sure he knew she was including him in her sentence. She was not going to feel powerless; she was not going to feel scared. These people took and they didn’t care, and she was going to make sure that they knew they would regret doing this to her, to Sam, and to Tara.

“Actually, I can’t believe that we couldn’t see it before; the resemblance between Richie and you guys,” She doesn’t care how mad she was making the killers in front of her right now because she was livid. “You’re all sick in the fucking head, with the same soulless and empty look in your eyes. Just a bunch of fucking pussies.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Quinn screams but the smirk doesn’t falter from Amelie’s face. She is shaking in anger and the sight is almost pleasurable.

“And the best part? You’re gonna die like pussies too; just like Amber and Richie. Because it was us that killed them, you have fucking nothing!” Amelie’s face is red and hot, but she feels fucking good.

It all happens so fast before Quinn lets out a gruelling scream and rushes forward at Amelie, just about sticking her knife back in the stab she caused earlier before Ethan jumped forward and pulls his sister away from Amelie. Amelie screams in shock and pain, the cool blade about to enter her open wound livens the pain. Ethan shoves Quinn to the ground, quickly looking at Amelie and makes sure she is okay. He fucking despised hearing her words, but he was not going to watch his sister lay a hand on her.

During this time, Quinn moans from the ground and Tara grabs onto Sam, pushing them away from the two men who were approaching in closer. Amelie stares at Quinn’s manic face glaring at her brother and pushes herself up as fast as she could, before turning back around to reach Sam and Tara.

Quinn quickly runs around to corner Sam and Ethan reaches his arms out to snatch Amelie when he sees her try to get away. He holds her close to him as his free arm wraps itself around her waist. Amelie tries to push him away but the pain in her shoulder caused her grip to weaken and she fails to prevail. He brings the two to stand opposite his sister, now in front of Tara to trap the two girls between the three of them.

“Let her go!” Tara shouts at Ethan and swings the brick in her hand towards him, making sure she wouldn’t get Amelie. Ethan dodges the swing with the girl still gripped in his arm.

“Now, it wasn’t until I saw the photograph of what you actually done to him, that I knew! I knew you had to fucking die, you had to be punished!” As Bailey talks Sam spins around to make sure Tara is okay and notices Amelie tucked under Ethan’s arm and her eyes widen. “Along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

Amelie watches as Quinn approaches Sam with her bloody knife, holding it up to her neck. “There she is. There’s the fucking killer.”

“Real great parenting job, by the way,” Tara says sarcastically, looking at Bailey before she is shoved by Quinn. “Shut your whore fucking mouth!”

Tara and Sam fall down the step and stumble back to the spot they were standing in before. Ethan still holds onto Amelie tightly as she squirms in his hold, hitting his arm and pleading for him to let her go. He brings them over to stand behind Quinn, so they are facing all the people in the theatre.

“Have I been a perfect dad? No. Have I maybe over-indulged Richie’s love with these movies? Yeahh, maybe,” Bailey begins again as she looks at Sam. “For me, they are just a little dark. But Richie really loved them…”

Amelie watches as Bailey talks and begins to make his way up the stairs. She continues to squirm in Ethan’s hold, the pressure of his arm hurting her shoulder even more and she gasps out heavy breathes. “Ethan, Ethan, please.”

“I can’t, Amie, I can’t let you go. You will run away,” Ethan whispers from behind her and she can feel him shake his head. No shit I would run away, she thinks. His face falls and he looks to be in pain for doing this to her, but he needs her to know that he won’t hurt her.

“Please, Ethan, please,” She continues to plead as a sob escape from her mouth. "If you ever cared about me you wouldn't do this."

She can feel his hold loosen on her at her words before he tightens his arms again, almost snapping out of his moment of falter. He shakes his head, whispering in her ear, "Amie, I did care and I still do. That is why I am doing this."

"No, no, Ethan, please," Amelie sobs, squinting her eyes shut as tears continue to fall.

“-a very special bond, between a father and his first son,” Amelie zones back in when she hears Bailey solemnly utters the words, looking at the screen that plays one of Richie’s films. Amelie feels Ethan grow rigid behind her and can guess that it was his father’s choice of words. She wants to feel for him, understand that Ethan may be feeling the pain of being the underrated son, but she knows that he did this by choice, and he can’t be completely sane if he is doing this. Ethan’s arm remains tight around her, but his movement stopped. She quits squirming in his arms, though she still remains afraid of what he might do. She notices his right hand grip the knife pointing at Sam, tighter.

She can hear Bailey go on about how the theatre was made for Richie, he put it in the names of Greg and Jason before killing them, and that this is the place that they, mainly Sam, need to die and suffer for what they did. Amelie can feel Ethan getting riled up again at his dad’s words and knows she needs to try again and escape from his grip.

“Oh, so pathetic,” Sam whispers. Amelie lifts one of her hands and places it on the top of Ethan’s that is wrapped around her waist. She hesitantly places her fingers through his and she can feel his grip loosen, probably shocked by her actions.

“Yeah, your son. Who was a man-baby, who made his girlfriend do all the killing.”

Amelie pulls their hands down slightly to now rest on the front of her stomach but doesn’t loosen the grip on their hands, so Ethan doesn’t freak out.

“He was a strong, feral young man.” Amelie can’t help but worry for Sam as she continues to talk. Bailey starts shaking more as she does and the gun in his grip looks ready to fire.

“He was a limp dick, little fuck who cried before I slit his throat.” Sam smirked.

“Shut the fuck up!” Quinn screams once again and Amelie takes this as her chance while Ethan is distracted. She grabs their hands and pulls his arm away from her body, spinning her out of his grip, throwing his arm back to his body, and right in front of a fuming Quinn. Her eyes widen, thinking that maybe she was safer in Ethan’s arms as Quinn’s blade enters her stomach.

“No!” Ethan yells as his eyes travel to where Quinn holds her knife in Amelie’s stomach. The girl can hear both Tara and Sam yell out behind her, but all she can feel is the warmth of her blood trail down her abdomen.

“Gotchya, bitch,” Quinn smirks as she twists the knife and Amelie screams in pain. Tara rushes up and swings the brick in her hand at Quinn’s face, causing the girl to fall onto the girl and spit up blood and teeth. Amelie can hear gunshots ring out and looks ahead of her to where Kirby stands with her gun, aiming for Bailey. She pants and whimpers in pain, attempting to push herself forward and away from the group, where she falls on her knees and grips the handle of the knife to pull it out of her stomach.

“Ahh!” Amelie screams as she loosely holds the handle. She tries to flip herself over onto her butt and leans back against one of the displays behind her. She places her other hand on her bleeding stomach and notices Tara rush up to her.

“Amie, are you okay?” Tara spits out and looks behind her face and wound. Amelie tries to nod at the girl and notices that two of the Ghostfaces are on the ground, while Ethan looks at her with panic in his eyes. He turns to Kirby and runs at her.

“We need to go,” Amelie pants to Tara and the girl helps her get up. One of her arms slung over Tara’s shoulder and the other gripping onto her stomach. Tara brings them to the ladder leading up to the balcony of the theatre and pushes Amelie to get her to climb.

“C’mon, Amie you got this,” Tara says behind her and ushers her up the ladder, following close behind.

“This is fucking hard,” Amelie pants out again, her face contorted in pain as she tries to push herself up the ladder further. Her grip is weak and shaky, but she manages to push herself up to the top, letting her fall back to her knees once she reaches the floor. Amelie looks down and sees Sam stab at Ethan profusely, a mix of emotions flowing through her. Her mouth opens as she stares at the scene, watching the boy she has come to love get brutally injured. She wants to be able to talk to him, to see what was real and what wasn’t, but she also knows that he wants them dead. Well, maybe just Sam and Tara specifically.

Sam manages to climb up to them and Tara pulls Amelie back up onto her feet so they can move. Tara pushes Amelie to stand in between Sam and her and the three girls attempt to climb across the obstacles and railings along the side of the balcony to get further up top. Amelie goes to copy Sam’s movements and step across the balcony rail to land on the floor, but her shaky foot slips on the edge when she hears another gunshot ring, and she falls down the side. Luckily, she manages to grab onto the rail with her bloody hands but screams when she feels the stretch of her stab wound being pulled due to her body hanging. She looks down and sees Ethan below her, almost waiting for her to fall and a sob escapes her mouth. She looks back up to the sisters and her bloody hand slips from the rail.

“I-I can’t hold on,” Amelie cries out and the two girls reach forward to grab onto her hands.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam repeats as she looks at Amelie in panic. She can’t let Amelie fall, she won’t because she can’t give them the chance of killer her.

“Hold on, Amie, you can do it,” Tara cries out as her hands continue to slip through theirs.

“C’mon, Amie, come down!” Ethan shouts manically from below her and another wave of fear runs up her spine at his voice. "I promise i won't hurt you!"

“Fuck you!” Amelie screams down at him, tears falling past her face at the panic striking through her body.

Amelie turns her head to the side when she notices both Tara and Sam look in that direction. She sees Quinn had made her way up to the balcony and is slowly advancing her way to the girls, her knife scraping against the metal bars as she passes them. Amelie turns back to the girls, eyes wide open with panic.

“Let me go,” She whispers. Both Tara and Sam widen their eyes at her words and shake their head.

“No, no, no, no way,” Sam repeats as her grip on Amelie’s hand tightens.

“Sam, you have to let me go,” Amelie repeats as she notices Quinn approaching even closer to the girls. She looks back down to where Ethan stands and sees his eyes never strayed from her dangling body. She looks back up and into Sam’s eyes, “Ethan won’t hurt me.”

“Amie, he’s the fucking killer,” Tara says to her, face contorted in shock and panic.

“You-you heard Quinn, he won’t hurt me, okay? You have to trust me,” Amelie rushes her words, knowing they don’t have much time left. She looks at the knife that Tara grabbed from her earlier and the girl passes it back to Amelie with her spare hand. Sam nods at Amelie and let’s go of her one hand holding onto them.

Amelie yells as she falls down, her eyes squinting shut in fear of landing flat on the ground. She peels them open when she doesn’t feel the hard floor, but a pair of arms wrap around her body. Ethan holds her, eyes wide open as he caught her from falling on the ground. She pushes him back after realizing who it was and holds the knife clutched in her hand tighter, pointing it out in front of her.

“No, no, I won’t hurt you, okay? I promise,” Ethan looks at her with pleading eyes and hands out in front of him to prove to her, in a way.

“Why?!” Amelie cries to him. Ethan looks in her eyes and he looks like he could be sorry, but she knew better than to believe him. “Was any of it actually real?!”

“Yes, Amie, I swear it was,” Ethan’s voice is so soft, he needs her to know that he was real about this all, everything with her. “I have liked you so much, since I first met you, and I knew that I couldn’t hurt you. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

“But you did!” Amelie shouts at him and then points to her chest where the bandage she had is currently peeling off. She knew better than to believe that shitty excuse of him being at econ. “You did this me! You were the one at the apartment!”

“I was, okay? I was, but I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Ethan shakes his head as he tries to defend himself. “I had to do it, to prove to my dad that I wasn't useless and that he could actually be proud of-"

"Oh, save me your fucking sob story! What, you had to prove to your dad that you were worthy? Worthy of killing your fucking friends, people who trusted you?!" Amelie shouts at Ethan, her eyes hard and she notices his teeth grind at her words, his jaw feathering.

"Look, I felt someone pull at my mask and I-I couldn’t let that happen. So, I just swung, and I am so, so sorry, Amie. I didn’t want to even touch you that night.”

“You fucking killed Anika!” Amelie screams out. She doesn’t care anymore if he didn’t want to hurt her, he still did. Even if he didn’t mean to stab her, he hurt her when he decided to put that mask on, when he killed her friends.

Ethan can’t find a response in him that he could say to her that would make her hate him less, he meant to kill Anika. He did it on purpose and he knew what he was doing, so he doesn’t feel bad. He only does because it has led to the girl he likes, hating him because of it.

“All those times when you told me to be safe, to not go or leave the apartment, was because you knew what would happen!” A cry leaves her mouth, and her hands shake as she talks. “The only person I needed to be safe from, was you!”

“I did that to protect you!” Ethan shouts back at her, pointedly. Her knife still points at him in protection, but she is visibly weaker than before. Her cries have caused her body to shake, and her wounds have weakened her strength, but she is just so sad and angry that she can’t stop from shouting at Ethan. “Please, Amie, you have to believe me when I say that I never wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“And you have to believe me when I say that you already have, Ethan” Amelie cries. Her eyes hard as she stares at the boy who once caused her cheeks to flush and heart to flutter, now frigid in fears and sick to her stomach. She can’t help but still think that he can genuinely be a good person, that he could truly be who she thought he once was. His brown eyes so soft when they look into hers and his touch so gentle when he is near her.

"Dean."

"What?" Ethan pauses and looks at her confused. Why the fuck would she be bringing him up right now?

"Dean, Ethan. Is he okay?" Amelie evaluates his expression, trying to gauge how he reacts to her asking about the boy who she still hasn't heard back from. "And was it you in the mask the day I was walking with Dean?"

"Yes," Amelie figured as much, now knowing that Ethan was crazy both in the head and about her.

"Why?"

"Because I needed to make sure that nothing happened with him, that he didn't try anything," Ethan sounds almost ashamed at his confession, but he pushes his shoulders back to at least appear more confident in himself. Just the thought of Dean was irritating him. "When I saw you guys at that party together, god Amie, I was so fucking jealous."

Amelie keeps her expression neutral and doesn't say anything. He was fucking crazy, she knew this by now, but she also couldn't imagine watching the person you love freely be with someone else.

"It was him who got to touch you, who got to kiss you, after just meeting! Fuck, Amie, I wanted it to be me so bad and then we finally got to have that and finally, it was me. And then I knew that you felt the same way, that Dean meant fucking nothing!"

Ethan takes a step towards her and drops his knife to the ground when he notices that she doesn’t back away. She was listening so intently to him, still not giving him any reaction other than her soft gaze.

"So, it was me who called you first as Ghostface but you wouldn't pick up. Though, I don't entirely blame you. You wouldn't answer knowing it was the killer, so I just decided to fuck it, and call you myself. As Ethan this time."

"You just wanted me away from him?" Amelie finally speaks up, her voice quiet.

"I-I guess, I don't know. I saw you two together and-"

"Woah, woah, you were stalking me?" Amelie asks incredulously. She felt shivers down her spine at the idea that Ethan did more than just kill her friends and like her a lot. He potentially watched her without even doing anything.

"What? No! No!" Ethan rushes out, his eyes wide in panic at Amelie's insinuations. Guess he should have cleared that up first. "I was on campus, too, and then I saw you about to start heading home. I was going to come up to you, but Dean got there first. So, i just watched from a distance."

Amelie falls quiet again, her shoulders relaxing only slightly at Ethan's response. She feels a bit more relieved, knowing that it at least only happened once.

"I have only ever cared for you, Amie, I promise. I know it is so selfish but I just wanted you to myself. After you kissed me, I realized you must have felt the same. From then, I wanted to prove to you that it can only be me. That I am a good person, that you can trust me."

Amelie needs to sit the fuck down. This mans change in demeanour was throwing her for a loop. He was brutal, ready to kill her his friends, but treated her like she was a delicate piece of glass. Maybe he was telling her the truth, there was no way he would go this far with the act if he wasn't.

“Ethan!” Bailey shouts from behind him. The boy turns to his father and Amelie looks at him as well, her knife staying in spot. “She can’t live, son.”

“I know, dad,” Ethan replies and turns to look at the girl. Her eyes widen when she realizes that he must have been faking it all along and takes a step back, trying to distance herself once more. “Go! I will deal with her.”

At that Bailey looks at his son hesitantly, knowing how much his son wanted to protect Amelie, remembering how many times he had pleaded to him to leave her alone, and when the time comes, he will deal with it himself. So, Bailey listens and begins to find a way up to where Quinn and the sisters are.

“What the fuck?” Amelie shouts at him, so angry thinking that he just lied to her and was going to do as he said for his father. "You were fucking lying!"

“I just said that, Amie. I needed him to leave,” Ethan lowers his voice as he replies, not wanting his dad to get the chance to hear him. He takes a step closer once more and holds his hands out in front of him to show her that he wasn’t hiding anything. “I promise I haven’t lied to you, not once have I today.”

Amelie bites her lip as it starts to quiver, looking to see if Ethan wasn’t telling the truth. When she looks around him to notice that he doesn’t have any weapon hidden on him, and his eyes appear to be truthful, she nods. Ethan sees her come to an acceptance and takes one more step closer to her. He grabs her wrist that is holding out the knife and slowly brings it down to her side. His other hand places itself onto her bicep of the arm that Quinn stabbed and gently holds onto it.

Amelie continues to shake in her spot but makes no move to push him away, too convinced that Ethan wouldn’t actually hurt her. She moves her gaze down to where his hand meets her wrist and sees the knife still clutched in it. The boy himself doesn’t quite know what he is trying to do, he knows that she won’t ever be able to look at him the same way again. He also doesn’t know if either of them are actually going to make it out of this theatre tonight, but if this is the last moment the two of them will ever have with each other then he needed it to be peaceful and genuine.

His right hand that rests on her arm brings itself up to tuck strands of her hair behind her ear and rests his palm on the side of her head. Amelie lets him get close but makes no move to place her hands or arms on the boy in front of her.

“I am so sorry, Amie,” Ethan whispers down at the girl, his hand holding the side of her face and neck so gently. Tears escape her eyes when she lifts her head to meet his gaze. He looks so sad, and she is sure that she looks no different. Amelie knows that this moment can’t last for much longer, and that the both of them won’t be able to walk out of this theatre alive. Even if they did, she wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way ever again, only a killer and a traitor.

“Ethan,” Amelie tries to talk but only manages to sob out. She shakes her head as her body shudders with her cries. Her heart aches, feeling a pain that she is sure will only hurt more as she stands here with Ethan holding her.

“It’s okay, Amie-“

“-No, no, no,” she tries to interrupt, her voice cracking as she speaks, and tears get caught in her mouth.

“It’s okay-“ Ethan tries to plead to her again. His hand on her wrist raising to place itself on the other side of her face.

“No, it’s not!” Amelie shouts at the boy, cutting him off. Ethan looks down at her, stunned and sad. He would do anything to have her look at him the same way she did just a day ago, anything. Because after everything he has done for his family and for his brother, it doesn’t feel worth it. Not when she looks so heartbroken, not when he jeopardized the one greatest thing he had in his life, not when his dad is not even as proud of him as he had yearned for him to be. But he was too far gone, he didn’t dislike killing his friends and he hated that it made him feel good. He is so crazy and so delusional, he truly believes that just because he wants to protect Amelie from being killed, it’s enough to save who he is and make Amelie feel okay about all of this.

Amelie is so full of emotions; she doesn’t even know where to begin. Sam had told her earlier that day, and she believed every word: they were going to kill these Ghostface’s, and they were going to live. Amelie also knows that the time is ticking and as much as she wants to believe that sane part of Ethan that is left, she can’t. He killed Anika, he killed Chad, he has been part of this fucked up plan to kill her friends and eventually her, despite what he says. God, she left him with Mindy, too, and she can only hope with any part left in her that Mindy is still okay and safe.

So, Amelie raises herself onto her toes and pushes her head closer to his. Ethan, taking the chance while he can, leans into her as well. Longing to feel her lips against his just one more time, longing to feel that sense of peace he received when he was so close to her. Just as Amelie lets her lips graze his, she takes her hand that is still clutched onto the knife and pushes it forward into Ethan’s stomach. He pulls his face back stunned, eyes wide and betrayal stricken on his face. His hands fall back down to his sides and he looks down to where her hand is connected to his torso, then back up at her face. He can’t find any words to say to her or find the ability to fight back, he deserves this. He deserves every bit of this for causing her so much pain, for ruining the once chance he could have had to go back and take back his decision of being Ghostface.

“What a fool,” Amelie stares in his eyes, hers have stopped leaking and a snarl has made a way onto her lips. She needed to do this, she was so angry at him and what her and her friends have been put through these past couple of days. She twists the knife in his gut, and he lets out a gasp. Blood begins flowing out of him and covers her hand. “That’s for Anika.”

She retracts the knife and Ethan takes his chance, attempting to take a step back away from her but she only takes her knife, swings it up, and stabs down into his shoulder. Ethan lets out a shout of pain and falls down to his knees. “For Chad.”

She pulls the knife out of his pin-cushioned body and drags the tip of her knife down from the cut she made on his shoulder to the end of his collarbone. Her face is red in anger, and she can’t quite believe she has brought herself to do this, but she was so tired. She needed to do this for too many reasons, and the mere fact that she even had a list to begin with was enough to set her off. She watches as Ethan screams out in pain from the injuries she is inflicting onto him, but he can’t hurt her. He said he wouldn’t, and he won’t. So, he takes it and lets her do what she needs to do. He knew neither of them were going to make it out, and if that meant him at the hands of her, he was okay with that. He was always ready to die for her, even if that meant that it was from her hands.

Once Amelie reaches the end of his collarbone, she lifts the knife from his skin and looks at his broken eyes. “That was for me.”

“I-I’m s-s-so sorry,” Ethan is chocking on his blood, but he needed her to know. Amelie wants to feel bad for what she is doing to him, but she keeps getting reminded of what he has done, and what he has become a part of. This was for her dad, for her aunt, for Gale, for him becoming part of what took her family from her. With his mouth open and blood dripping out of it, he tries to talk over the searing pain. "Please, Amie."

He wasn't quite sure what he was begging her for, neither was she. Amelie was just overcome with an immense feeling of pleasure seeing Ethan like this; on his knees, begging her.

Amelie shouts and raises her knife back up and into his mouth, stuck into his throat. Blood now flows out of his mouth like a waterfall and as grossed out as she is from the warm mix of saliva and blood, she feels her shoulders drop. “Now die a fucking virgin.”

Amelie lets a sob rack through her body as she watches the life slip from his face and is about to pull the knife out of the boy’s mouth but is only able to let a scream rip through her mouth.

“Amie!” She can hear Sam and Tara shout from above, but she can only focus on the knife that just entered her back. Ethan stares at her one last time with wide eyes, just catching what happened to her before he drops to the ground.

“I believe this is what Amber did to your dad, right?”

Detective Bailey pulls the knife out of her back and kicks her to the ground where she falls face first and onto her stomach, just missing Ethan’s body in front of her. Quinn, from above, tauntingly laughs as she watches the events taking place just below her. The two sisters watch with their eyes wide open, tears streaming down their face as they just watched their best friend, their sister, get stabbed. She was now bleeding from either side of her torso.

Amelie can only feel an abundance of pain as she attempts to crawl forward, her hands desperately gripping at the floor beneath her to push forward with her fingertips.

“You just took my last son from me,” Wayne says standing behind her, venom laced in his words. “He cared about you so much, too bad you also had to go.”

Wayne leans down and swings his knife, stabbing the side of Amelie’s right thigh. She tries to let another scream rip through her throat, but it cracks to no end, and only a sob comes out. Her head lulls to the side and onto the cold floor as she watches the man leave the knife in her leg, and actually disappear upstairs this time. She can hear the sounds around her, the screams, the gunshots, the glass breaking, but it is so faint and she can’t bring herself to lift her head or attempt to get up. She is in so much pain that she can almost not even feel the throbbing in her shoulder, her stomach, her back, or her leg anymore. The only thing she can eventually make out is the reflection of fire project onto the white sheet and she does everything to try and keep her eyes open. She can’t close them; she knows that if she does, she may not make it and her worst fear will come true; she will become part of this shrine and part of the legacy.

Amelie isn’t sure how much time passes before she realizes it is becoming significantly harder to breathe. All she does know is that she feels a twitch at her hand and a clothed hand grab onto her fingers. She assumes its Ethan’s and can’t express her shock that he is still alive. She nearly feels relieved that he is still there to hold her hand through it all, but also scared that he has managed to make it through.

The girl tries to tilt her head slightly when she sees two figures make their way to her, and through her blurred vision makes out Tara and Sam who rush down to her.

“C’mon, Amie,” Amelie hears Tara cry.

“Tara, help, let’s try to move her,” Sam says, and Amelie can feel the two girls grab onto her arms gently and the two manage to life her, bringing her to the steps of the stage where they lean her against the bottom step.

“It hurts so bad,” Amelie weakly cries, unable to hold herself up from the stinging in her back. She fears that Wayne may have hit something significantly important when he stabbed her in the back because she can’t find any strength or ability to sit up straight.

“We know, we know, help should be on the way” Tara says as her and Sam sit on either side of her, holding her up and Sam lets Amelie lean against her legs so she can sit upright. Amelie tilts her head back slightly to look back at Sam, “Are they dead?”

Sam nods her head back at the girl and strokes her hair, softly muttering a “yeah.”

“I promise I’m going to get so much therapy after this, I’m serious,” Tara chuckles and looks at Sam. Amelie tries to nod her head in agreement, catching Tara's words. If she makes it.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Tara looks at Sam, then down at Amelie and places a hand on her unhurt shoulder. “Together.”

The three girls turn in shock, Amelie wincing hard as she does so, when they hear a scream and see Ethan charging at them. Suddenly, before he can make his way to the girls in his vengeful rage, he trips on the cord of the broken TV used to kill Stu Macher and the heavy unit falls on his head. Amelie gasps as she watches his body twitch under the TV before it stills.

“Saw that in a scary movie once,” Kirby smiles, revealing herself since she got stabbed earlier by Ethan. The three girls turn to her, also relieved that she is okay. Amelie looks ahead when she hears metal clinking and sees police begin to bust through the door, Amelie smiles once she sees them and feels her head fall to the side, onto Sam’s thigh. Sam looks down when she feels the weight on her leg and her eyebrows furrow.

“Amie?” Sam questions the girl and nudges her head with the hand that was already on it, previously stroking her hair. When the girl below her doesn’t move, she calls again, “Amie?!”

“Amie?”

“Amelie!”

“Help, we need help!”

Amelie can hear, but she can’t see or speak. She only feels weak and lets the darkness behind her eyelids trick her into the peace. The voices and yells coming from her friends begin to sound hollow and all she can focus on is that fact that she doesn’t feel pain, not as bad as she did before. For once, her head is quiet and her shoulders don’t feel like there are a ton of boulders weighing them down. She finally found solace and a breath of fresh air. She was free from this curse, free from the all the noise that wouldn’t leave her head since the moment she learned her life would forever be different, last year. Amelie wasn’t sure if she was dead, or even dying, just that she was comfortable in the state she was in. What she does know, is that she is okay. That she managed to kill the boy who she came to love, and that the other two who were ruining her life, are dead. That Sam and Tara were okay, that they were going to walk out of this place all okay.

If she makes it out alive is still a question to her, but the endless darkness that surrounds her eyes finally makes her feel okay. She did what she could, and although she took a lot, she knows that her dad would be so proud of her, and that Ethan died sorry to her.

[wordsmith30]

The more that I think about it, the more I realize that Ava’s character arc as the Warrior Nun actually regressed in season two.

Ultimately, Beatrice hits the nail on the head in their fight at the very beginning: Ava does whatever she wants, jumps headfirst into danger without thinking about the consequences, leads with her heart and emotions instead of her head.

Because of the intense pressure Ava puts on herself to be the Warrior Nun, she becomes dangerously self-sacrificing. In her desperation to not let the team down, she throws herself at every threat that appears (whether she needs to or not) and the team gets smoked with her. Afraid to lose her friends, she takes on the whole weight of the mission alone. In the end, she abandons them for a solo mission that nearly gets her killed.

One of the key lessons Beatrice tried to impart to her in season one was to trust her team. The Warrior Nun is not supposed to go at it alone or exist in isolation. She is a symbol, a representative of a collective unit. If only the Warrior Nun was needed, there would be no OCS. There would be no team.

Though the Warrior Nun is supposed to be their designated leader, that doesn’t necessarily mean that she is. In season one, Ava was a complete newbie with no background knowledge, experience, or training whatsoever. Despite her special status, her role was limited to one specific thing and it was the team’s job to protect her so that she could fulfill it. Everyone had their own part to play.

But Ava chafed against this system. She didn’t like the idea of other people fighting for her and wanted to do something, even though she wasn’t properly equipped. Beatrice and the others consistently had to tell her, “No. That’s not your job. You’re going to get yourself killed. Your responsibility is this and that’s all you need to worry about.”

Somewhere along the way, Ava forgets that. She gets roped in with Michael and Reya’s plan (a horrible, stupid plan that doesn’t even work!). She blames herself for everything that goes wrong and believes it’s her sole responsibility to protect the team – that she needs to take the biggest risks and make the ultimate sacrifice.

But the biggest difference between her and the OCS? They chose this. They signed up for this. They have trained for this. They’re prepared to lay down their lives for this, they know what’s at stake. And you need them!

Two seconds after Ava and Michael defect for their own plan, Michael is killed on the spot. Ava is left outnumbered and alone with no way to call for backup.

Meanwhile, one-woman-army Beatrice is slicing through every last one of Adriel’s men to find her. That’s the girl you left behind?

Enough with all this “I’m doing this to save you”. You need her to save you!

Every time Ava was in trouble this season, my reaction was either: “Yaas! Beatrice has arrived” or: “Shoot. Beatrice! Beatrice, help her!”

Beatrice has saved her a thousand times over and when the two of them are fighting side by side – protecting each other, leaning on each other, trusting each other, working together – they’re unstoppable.

After Ava falls fifty feet from a building, she tells Beatrice that “they can’t beat us [...] Not together.”

So why did you leave her? 😭

[massiveladycat]

guess who made a NEW PJO OC... TANNER STARLING - THE SON OF HERMES - DESCENDANT OF DIOMEDES - SCORN OF APHRODITE AND ARES I've always hated "Bad Boy" tropes with characters who just hate people and hate everyone and treat their love interest horribly, acting like no one understands what they've gone through. And, I decided I did NOT want that for Tanner. So why not have a bad boy that goes against it? Have him be a genuine nice guy who gets the short end of the stick every time. Have him be the type of bad boy that jumps fences and helps you get out of trouble or is completely willing to take the blame for you every-time that you screw up, like, "Oh, you broke this vase? No. I'll tell Chiron I did it, okay?" Have him be the kind of team-player rebel. Tanner is a witty, fast-paced, and determined seventeen year old. If you can't keep up with him, it's unlikely you'll be friends. He's driven by ambition to become a part of something greater. He's athletic; he loves sports and competing, and he's something of a "jack of all trades, master of none" - he's scarily good at handpicking, stealing, and escaping. He could probably be trained to do another task if he was that determined. He inherited his father's sense of humor, which means pranks everywhere. A lot of my OCs won't be able to go anywhere without worrying that Tanner's got a prank set up. But, he's also very empathetic; he tunes into people's emotions, and it hurts him to watch them hurt. To him, it stops being funny when someone shows signs of physical or emotional distress (he'll sober up immediately if someone cries). He's absolutely willing to throw down with people who like to mess around and call pushing people around 'pranks', because putting people in danger isn't pranking.

 I have a headcanon that a lot of Tanner's old bruises and scars are from brawling with his classmates. He was the black sheep; the athletic new kid that was super friendly but moved often, never celebrated fathers' day, and could get angry quickly. Him getting angry at people (not without good reason) often resulted in brawls in which the faculty had to pull him off a kid because, come ON. Tanner's a demigod. They literally have fighting hardwired into their brains. They know where to move when to move and when to punch which is why Tanner beats up 2.5/3.0 of the people he fights with. Usually he's the one to throw the first punch if he's aggravated or jabbed, but if he's not pissed off, it takes people trying to hit him for him to start fighting; he doesn't insist on violence. His personality? Very laid-back, but also very silly. He likes pranks (already been established), he loves to joke around, he loves comedy, he loves the dramatics of theater. He's loyal and brave, but he's also very driven by ambition, and can come off as antagonistic sometimes. He's very stubborn, and stands his ground. He can also come off as sarcastic and abrasive, which he can be under certain circumstances. I some-what based him off of Hamilton's personality (couldn't help it). Anyways, PT. 2 of Tanner Starling will be made, and it'll be in my blog; this is long enough, and Tanner's lore is a lot. Share your PJO OCs!! I'd love to hear about them!!!

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

I had a moment where I let out my anger. Is that bad? Or is it a way to relive myself of stress?

It depends on what you said/did

Always ask yourself (in most any context really, not just with anger stuff)

"Will it hurt somebody or myself?"

I personally struggle with anger too, and unregulated emotions in general. However, I take medication for it and I've been doing general group therapy. But, that's not a cure-all, obviously

When there are times I feel like I might snap and hurt somebody's feelings, or harm myself physically, I do these instead:

(keep in mind, these are what work for me personally! Not everyone is the same, but I thought I might share some advice)

• If you don't want to risk accidentally posting a personal and very angry vent, go into a word document (or even a physical notebook if you want!), and write down what you want to say. Just go ham and let out all of your frustrations. Leave for a while, come back to read it, then delete it/shred it if you want

• if you'd prefer to simulate like you're actually going to post it for others to see, click "create a post", make sure that it'll save to your drafts and not actually post (I think you can post things privately too, but I don't trust that eheh), write out everything that's making you upset and everything you want to say, save it to your drafts and read it a few times, then delete it

• Draw/write something cartoonishly violent. Weirdly enough, drawing Vanilla cartoonishly beating up throw away bad guy OCs actually soothes my anger the most. It feels like I took a hot bath and I'm relaxed! (Plus nobody will see the drawings because they're in a vent folder)

• You could also take a hot bath or a freezing cold shower. The hot/cold temperature stimulates your vagus nerve and reduces anger and stress quite a bit. I usually just take a quick freezing shower and let it hit my chest and back, but when I'm feeling lazy, I'll take a hot bath and soak

• Do squats or lift weights. I personally hate lifting weights, but when I'm angry, I'll do weighted squats until I'm exhausted.

A lot of people know me as a pretty lighthearted and laidback dude! But I have my internal mental health struggles as well... All of these help me regulate my emotions and make sure I don't hurt anyone's feelings or myself when I'm feeling angry.

And remember: having bad or violent or mean thoughts doesn't make you a bad person. What matters is what you do with those thoughts. Never harm another person, that includes yourself.

I struggle with distressing intrusive thoughts and violent thoughts, but that doesn't reflect my worth or morality. I'm not going to post the vent drawings unless they're the sadness ones and I specifically made them for posting.

Drawing or writing in your personal folders or sketch books to vent your frustrations and feelings is healthy. It's better that you do something constructive rather than destructive. We all have our struggles, and we need a healthy outlet for our mental health issues 💪

[boltslutters]

Can ya tell me about an oc you’ve never told me about beforeeeeeee?

Rink's a fandom oc I took out a while ago, but they're an Icewing/Sandwing and one of my much older ocs, with art that's over 4 years old (since pixilart doesn't give me exact dates)

This is what they look like now

(They've had a stupid number of redesigns, I'm not sure I could track them all down).

Rink's mother, and Icewing called Frost had a flingy relationship with a Sandwing I think whose name was Saguaro. Rink (as in, ice rink), was an unwanted result, being strongly disliked by Frost, who tried to get her daughter into the Circles (essentially royal/high ranking icewings). While Rink didn't have any overt Sandwing traits (they have a sealed Sandwing venom sac in their tail that, if punctured, usually poisons themselves), they were weird enough that they were mostly outcasted by other Icewings. They're rebellious and really sour-tempered, not really a nice dragon to be around. Rink was a big rp character I used because I wanted to play a meanie bully, and their story is always some form of running away from their shitty household or being sent away from the kingdom as a disgrace on Frost's family. The cloak is a comfort thing for them. It usually hides scars or their more sandwing-like traits. I have had a really bad track record of absolutely tormenting this oc. (I kept throwing them in situations essentially asking them to get beat up or doing really really mean things to this sopping-ass wet cat.

[walder-138]

Hello darl!! From the edgy ask meme:

10, 13, 14 and 15 - for Oz please!! I'd love to get to know more about him!! <3

Hi Goose! I’m happy to hear from you again!

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

One where Oz takes up Adler’s offer to help him hunt down Perseus. Perseus (organization) really fucked him up and during his time as an Army Ranger, so he’s got a personal vendetta against everyone involved with them.

Oz knew Adler beforehand as the Rangers and MACV-SOG worked together countless times, so the two are well-acquainted and they kept in touch after Oz’s… thing that resulted him in getting discharged.

That was all backstory, but the reason Oz didn’t get involved with the Safehouse people was because of Bell. When Adler said they were brainwashing a literal fucking PERSEUS agent he left almost immediately. No matter how hard Adler tried to convince him using the ‘greater good’ bullshit, Oz wasn’t taking the chance with a fucking Red. (In my AU, he was right)

Okay I got sidetracked, but I think it’d be cool to see how he’d interact with the others. Like if he didn’t know Bell was brainwashed like Mason and Woods didn’t. I’d imagine him and Hudson would have some choice words to throw in each other’s direction. Oz, Sims, Lazar, and Bell (if Oz didn’t know they were Russian) would be besties.

I could imagine since Oz’s dad was a Brit, he’d fuck around with Lazar by giving him the wrong definitions for British slang. (Since Lazar had a thing for Park)

He’d be like “Yeah bro you should tell her you’re going out for a shag and invite her to join you. It would get you two some time alone. Shag means cigarette dude trust me I swear to God I would never lie to you.” And whenever Lazar’d walk away to talk to her, Oz would break down and start laughing when he was out of earshot.

Also, depending on the Bell, I could imagine Oz showing them pictures of Jenny and telling them about her throughout the campaign. However, when Adler was eventually forced to tell Oz they were brainwashed, he’d probably try to kill Bell for that reason. Cause if they go marching straight back to Perseus, knows who Oz is AND that he has a daughter, Jenny would be a prime target due to both her disability and her father.

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

It depends. If he knew I made him? He'd murder me. No hesitation, and there wouldn't be anything I could do about it. I know it's a cliche answer, but I am NOT lying when I say I've put dudebro through hell and back. It’d be on sight.

If Oz didn't know who I was? He wouldn't care enough to have any negative feelings towards me. I’d get along with him well enough so that he wouldn’t beat me unconscious if we met.

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

After he left Vietnam, Oz wanted people to be intimidated by him. Growing up, and during the war, he learned the only way to get what he wants is through coercion and breaking noses. Oz didn’t really like talking to new people even before his wartime nostalgia, so if people were intimidated by him, they’d fuck off.

However, when Jenny came into his life, Oz changed. He didn’t want people to be intimidated by him (at least not all the time) cause he didn’t want their fear to run off on Jenny. His worst fear is for Jenny to see him the way he saw his father. (😔 spoiler alert: she will) So he starts acting softer, and he’d want to be seen more as a protector than an aggressor.

Jenny changed his life for the better.

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

This might come off as a disappointment, but no 😭 I suck at finding faceclaims and none of them match how I imagined Oz to look cause THERE NOT UGLY ENOUGH 😭 THERES TOO MANY PRETTY BOYS AND NOT ENOUGH WRETCHED CREATURES FROM HELL. OZ IS NO MORE THAN A SOLID 6/10, AND THATS TOO NICE. ITS IMPOSSIBLE FOR SOMEONE MAMED OSWALD TO GET HIGHER THAN A 6/10. IM SORRY POOKIE 😭

Thank you again for the asks! I’ll get to your other one between now and the next 40 years!