#how did the cw fumble so fucking badly (I know why but still)

[thegreatmelodrama]

How do we convince Larry Teng to give Nancy Drew the X-Files and Veronica Mars treatment and just give us a movie…better yet how do we convince Max to revive the show????

[lostintransist]

.. that idea on ghost coming back with his therapist’s contact is brilliant, could we get a pt2 when we do hit him up cuz,,, it’s inevitable and he pulls up in that same motorbike and actually plans a banger date?

Just for you! A part 2! Original post for anyone curious is here.

Also thank you for what I am percieving as patience, I had things to accomplish today. But it gave me time to think about this...

CW: I can't think of any.

You held onto the business card. No real explanation that would satisfy you or anyone who might have asked. And your best friend did ask. Repeatedly.

“You still have the card?” She asked over drinks.

Running your tongue along the inside of your teeth you debate on how to answer.

“Yes,” you reply curtly.

“And have you called the therapist or texted him yet? Do you even know his name?” She followed her questions with a sip of her drink.

“All I know is that when I search up S. Riley I get a few hits about a brother to a home invasion that ended badly a few years ago and nothing else. No one on social media matches him and without his full name or maybe a birthday I can’t find much else about someone that might be him.” Flopping back into the couch you watch your drink slide side to side as you tip your glass.

“You don’t have to call him but you have to make a decision about this soon,” she chides.

“No decision is a decision though.”

She gives you the flattest stare she can muster. Seeing as your best friend is autistic it’s a pretty impressive flat look.

Heaving a sigh you concede the point.

“Fine. I get it. I can’t avoid this forever, what if he finds me at a coffee shop again and asks why I haven’t called? S. Riley sure does seem like a man who doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone.”

“I think you should call and tell the therapist to inform him that you would like to never see him again, but you have this whole ‘attracted to the adventure’ thing going on.” She rolled her eyes.

Aghast at being so well identified, it does not matter that she is your best friend, you fire off a rude gesture at her. She only laughs.

“At least I never have to worry about not realizing I fumbled the woman of my dreams three months late,” you say with a wicked grin.

“It was one time!” Your best friend launches one of the couch pillows at you.

“Twice.”

The purest look of concern crosses her face.

“Twice?” Comes her panicked ask.

“Once at the bar,” she nods, “And then last week at the bookstore.”

Watching her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open you can’t help the full-body laugh that overtakes you.

“I thought she was just being nice!” Her voice gets squeakier with each word.

You are laughing so hard you can’t breathe.

“I fucking love you and am so glad we are best friends,” you manage to croak out between ab-shredding laughs.

💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠

Your next early day off of work you pop in your headphones and call the number printed on the business card. It sat between your insurance card and your driver’s license. Those two cards didn’t see much action and would keep the business card from disappearing.

“Thank you for calling Healing Sky Therapy, how can I help you?”

“Yes, is Anna Mortz available?”

“For a phone call or an appointment?” The sound of clicking keys bubbles over the line.

“A phone call, I am calling to speak to her about a current patient of hers.”

“Okay, and are you a provider?”

This causes you to pause. Did you really need to explain why or how you were connected to this crazy situation? No. Bare bones it is.

“No, I should be listed as a person who can discuss the care of a patient of hers who goes by S. Riley?”

“Okay,” she drags the word. “It looks like I can drop a call in her schedule in about forty minutes if that would work for you?”

“That would work great, can I give you a callback number?”

“Yes, I can take that when you are ready.”

Finishing up the phone call you grabbed your grocery list and headed out the door. Your phone rang as you were transferring bags from your cart to your trunk. The number looked vaguely familiar and so you answered.

“Hi this is Anna Mortz, I am returning a phone call.”

“Yes, hi Anna. I am the one who called.”

“That was in regards to Simon Riley, right? Let’s go through some information on my end to make sure that we can discuss him first okay?”

“Absolutely,” you slam the trunk closed and return your cart while confirming all of your information.

“So, what questions can I answer for you?” Anna started.

“Let me get settled and I will give you the rundown.” Tossing your purse to the passenger side and locking the door you get situated in your seat. You push a large breath from your lungs and start. “Okay, so this is a weird situation. The long and the short of it is that Simon had been dating a friend of mine several years back and they were not good together. He was being a pushy asshole who refused to let the relationship die and she was codependent to a deeply unhealthy level. My friend asked for help in telling him off once and for all. She tended to cave and give into having sex every time he came by to start a fight. That is where I met Simon.”

Anna made a noise of confirmation. You took it as permission to keep telling your story.

“Nothing more came of that except my friend and I drifted apart, nothing major and not important to the story. I ran into Simon next at my friend’s wedding reception. I don’t know if he showed up to confirm to himself that it was really over or if she actually invited him but,” you paused here eyes tracing the dash of the car parked in front of you. With a slight shake of your head, you focus back on your phone call. “That is neither here nor there. He hit on me that night and I told him basically to fuck off and go to therapy if he wanted a shot at that conversation.”

Puffing your cheeks with air you slowly let it out, you felt like you were explaining a whole crazy situation to the principal.

“He ran into me at a coffee shop close to probably a year later, dropped your card on the table with his number on the back, and insinuated that I would call because I was interested in him.”

“Okay, that is pretty close to the story he told me as well,” Anna speaks with kind authority. “What I can tell you from a clinical standpoint is that Simon struggles with C-PTSD, which is complex post-traumatic stress disorder. This basically means that Simon has been through so many traumatic events at so many points in his life that he has a hard time functioning day to day without it affecting every aspect of his life. I can also tell you that we have been working on him gaining some coping abilities and practicing social skills.”

“Okay, I guess what I am asking is that if I go on a date with him will I end up with a stalker who will end up killing me in the night if I say I don’t want to see him again?” You lay your concerns bare. She’s not your therapist so her judgment worries you a bit less.

“While nothing is guaranteed,” she hedges, “I cannot see that kind of behavior occurring with the progress Simon has made. He has scheduled out appointments weekly for the next three months with me and has even mentioned he is working on some other types of therapy I have recommended to help him process his traumas further. He’s actually doing the work to deal with his issues. I think he is here because he wants to be, you happened to be the trigger.”

Resting your elbow on the steering wheel you leaned your head into your hand.

“Whew, okay. Thank you. That is actually really helpful. How is he about accepting boundaries?”

“He is familiar and comfortable with them in a work context but if you choose to interact with him I know personal boundaries will come up in our sessions. So, I would keep it in mind when interacting with him.”

“Okay, thank you so much Anna this call has been,” a slight pause, “Enlightening. I appreciate your time.”

“Happy to help. Have a good day!”

With that the phone call ends and you stare down at your phone. Flicking open your messaging app you add the contact you saved to it almost a month ago.

<Your therapist seems nice.

Three minutes pass as you watch the screen. It goes black once and you wake it with a tap on the screen.

Tossing it to the passenger side on top of your purse you put the text from your mind. You instead focus on pulling out of your spot. Parking lots are of the devil and you aren’t even religious like that.

Five days pass before a message dings on your phone from one S. Riley.

>Can’t say she is nice to me. I get a lot of mean looks from her.

Setting a timer for an hour and thirteen minutes you let the text simmer. You hope he can see that you have opened the message.

<You normally take a work week to respond?

>Only when I am on a job.

The reply comes in instantly.

<What kind of jobs keep you from your phone?

>Classified.

<Ooh big brain work then. Got it.

You snort at the eye roll emoji he sends.

>So, have you decided if I can hit you up yet?

<I’m thinking about it. If I were to say yes, where would you take me?

>Indoor sky diving.

You read the three-word message at least six times, check out the closest indoor sky diving place near you, and then finally reply.

Starting and erasing three messages you finally settle on one.

<Would we ride your bike there?

>Unless you would prefer to talk on the drive over?

What do you talk about with a man when you had to check with his therapist that he wouldn’t murder you?

<Bike sounds like fun.

>Saturday?

<Maybe. Time?

>2

<Done. Pick me up at noon and we can grab lunch?

>No, you’re going to want an empty stomach. Dinner instead.

Narrowing your eyes at the message you debate the logic of testing a boundary yet. The advice to not have a full stomach did look like a good one.

<Fine, but nowhere fancy. If I can’t roll up in the same outfit I don’t want it.

The only reply you get for several hours is a thumbs up on your message.

Guess you had a date coming up.

[levworship]

cw: dom!reader, fem reader, mommy kink, degrading, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), slight mind break, reader is a lil manipulative. just a bit. probably had errors

summary: you find out while on another blind date with one of mina’s friends that kirishima is just the man for you. he wants to be used, and you’re more than willing to use him.

word count: approx 2.9k

“fuckin’ mina. i’m gonna beat her ass.”

this wasn’t the first time your best friend has tried to set you up with one of her friends. and honestly, knowing her, it more than likely wouldn’t be the last time, either. “but he’s so nice” she’d promise, or “she’s just a little shy,” and perhaps the most common line of “you just have to be a little patient with them”

patient my ass.

your damn patience was beginning to run thinner and thinner the longer you sat waiting at the table for your date to arrive. you’re used to mina’s friends not being the most punctual, but to not show up at all? it was almost insulting. here you were, taking the time out of your busy day to spare some of your sweet time with some rando and—

“hey there, beautiful.” your eyes quickly tore away from the spot you’d been staring at for the past few minutes during your internal rant. part of you wished you hadn’t, because you damn near stopped breathing. typically, you’d never allow a man the satisfaction of hindering you speechless, but fuck. the man before you stood tall and strong, the white fabric of his dress shirt clinging onto his muscles in the most delicious way possible. his hair was slicked up in a style that you could only describe as goofy, and his smile? it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but to toss away the piping hot insults you’d been preparing to shoot his way.

“sorry i’m late. was searching all over town to find these for ya. i know mina said they were your favorite, and well—“ pulling his arms from behind his back, the red-haired man handed you a comically large bouquet of flowers. were they your favorite? no, not at all. but you couldn’t help but to be flattered anyway. “had to look all over town for them. turns out they’re actually pretty hard to find around here. can you believe that?” he chuckled to himself as he scratched at the back of his neck. an unfittingly cute gesture for a man of his build.

you grin sweetly as you grab the bouquet from his large hands, setting them down on the table in front of you and batting your lashes. “these are very beautiful! thank you so much, ...um?”

mina always purposely hid the names of her friends away before setting you up, mostly in fears that you’ll end up googling them and find some not so pretty things, just as you had that time when she tried to set you up with katsuki bakugou. (you noted to yourself that day, stay away from him at all costs.)

“ah- eijirou kirishima!” he filled in for you and held a hand out for you to shake. your eyebrows shot up in realization, leaning forward a bit on the table to shake his hand. you don’t miss the way his eyes shamelessly drift down to your cleavage when you do so. the sight made you laugh.

now you saw why he seemed so familiar at first glance. you’d heard mina talk to you about him on numerous occasions. big, handsome, and dumb. that’s how you’ve always perceived him from listening to her stories and descriptions. and if there was one thing you actually enjoyed about a man, it was how simple they could be. perfect for a woman with your desires.

you open your mouth to return his introduction, but he’s already cutting you off with perhaps a little too much eagerness. “and you’re y/n? did i say that right?” he quirks an eyebrow. “uh- i may have asked mina about you already. a lot.” he flashed you a sheepish smile.

talking to him felt like being a kid in a loaded candy shop. he’d be in the palm of your hand in no time.

the rest of dinner went on moderately better than your previous experiences with these stupid dates. kirishima was a bit of a talker, but you didn’t mind listening if it meant you got to watch the way those puppy dog eyes lit up a little more every time he’d begin telling you a story from his hero work (turns out you were just really behind on the latest hero news), only to quickly become side tracked by one details of his story and trail his way to another mini rant.

finally, you figure you’ve had enough of him rambling. it was time to cut to the point. “does it get lonely?” you asked him suddenly, trying your best to hold in a smile at the way he looked at you confusedly. “i mean- not really? i’m a hero so i’m with people all of the time-“ “that’s not what i meant, red.” hearing you refer to him by his hero name sent visible chills down his spine. just the effect you were wishing to have on him. something about your change in tone knocked him from a highly energetic and charismatic sweetheart, to a blushing and stuttering mess who suddenly couldn’t sit still in his seat. and from just one question, too?

he was almost too good to be true.

“no? i-i mean, yes but... i dunno. i’m busy a lot, a-and i don’t really have time for... yaknow.” “what kind of women do you like? in bed, i mean.” you managed to knock his brain around for a second time as he fumbled around his head for an answer.

“i-i guess it depends?” “hm? what do y’mean?” the way he continued to respond to your nasty questions had you licking your lips. you wanted him. badly. in the most selfish ways possible.

“depends on what the chick is into. i mean- they usually like when i’m on top. but..” you don’t respond this time. instead you look at him expectantly and wait for him to continue his previous statement. something about seeing such a grown man grow so embarrassed that quickly does something to you.

“i guess i wouldn’t mind... having someone take control for once?”

everything from that point felt like a blurred flash. you quickly abandoned the bouquet and called for the bill (which he so generously covered for the two of you) and were stumbling out of the door in no time, speedily walking all the way to your humble apartment. the door had just swung open when you were already shoving him inside.

kirishima spent nearly the entirety of the walk psyching himself up for this. did you know he wanted to experiment with this? had mina told you? how would mina even know? did he even really want this? because by the way he was struggling to catch his breath and connect dots in his mind, maybe he’d gotten too far ahead of himself.

but it was too late for that now. you’d already shoved him all the way down the hall, into your bedroom, and onto your bed before he knew it. you were fierce and impatient. and honestly? he found it quite intriguing.

“red...” you drew him back from falling into his thoughts once again, dragging your knuckles across the rough skin of his cheek. “i said, are you sure you want this?” and he swears he’s never nodded faster in his life, already grabbing onto your waist and hoisting you onto his lap. “yes! yes, i’m sure. please y/n?” and with that, a thread in you snapped.

you pushed him roughly until his head rested comfortably against the pillows, muttering a quick ‘stay’ as you began to fumble with his belt. you’d barely even touched him, yet he still lied staring at you with those same big adoring eyes. he was just too cute for his own good.

it made you want to wreck him.

you practically ripped away his pants and boxers before gently palming at his cock. you had expected him to be big, but not this big. he was long and thick, your hand barely managing to wrap completely around it. wordlessly you crouched down and pressed a gentle peck to his swollen tip, the precum that’d gathered there now sticking deliciously to your lips.

kirishima was getting so restless above you that you could’ve mistaken him for a virgin, hands fisting at your sheets with countless pleas tumbling from his lips. “so impatient, cutie. dont you want to be taken care of?” “i do! i do!” it seemed as if he was completely unashamed of how desperate he must’ve looked right now.

but rather than provide the sweet sweet release you knew he was craving, you tsked and backed away from his cock. much to his disappointment. “you know something, red? i didn’t take you for the selfish type. want me to make you feel good when you haven’t even touched me yet? and i thought you were a gentleman...”

kirishima thrashed below you, fingers digging hard into your hips. “i’m a gentleman! i’ll be a gentleman! i promise!” his lip wobbled cutely. you almost felt bad for having to deny such a pretty face.

almost.

he observed closely as you leaned back on your knees, sliding down the straps of your dress and tugging until your lacy bra was revealed to him. you were going to be the fucking death of him. you couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the way he eyed your chest. “i’ll tell you what.” you said as you reached out and pressed a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet your intense eyes.

“be a good boy for me and maybe, maybe, i’ll let you touch. deal?” and kirishima nodded giddily. truly an obedient little thing, he was.

you gave him a large smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes before patting him on the cheek, moving up to straddle his face and... shit. you weren’t wearing any panties under your dress. the smell of your arousal right in front of his face nearly made him overload, wanting nothing more but to bury his face between your legs until you’re heaving and begging for a break. but he had to be good for you. wanted you to rake your fingers through his hair and call him your good boy while he plays with your pretty tits.

“well? dont you want a tas—” you gasp when his mouth is suddenly on you, every sense of restraint abandoned as his tongue slid across and pressed against your poor clit. it was messy, no real technique behind his frantic movements, but he still had your eyes crossing and your thighs squeezing the sides of his head as ear muffs, his fingers squeezing and prodding at the flesh to keep himself grounded.

the sounds that came from your cunt and his mouth were embarrassingly lewd, the sound of his slurping making your entire body go hot. you were so close to losing your composure and letting him have you the way he wants, but you couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. not when you’ve been craving this for this long.

“kiri..” you couldnt tell if you were whispering or yelling at this point, brain all scrambled from the amount of pleasure you were receiving. you nearly doubled over from the vibrations of the small ‘hmm’ of acknowledgment he gave you. your fingers tangle themselves in his stiff red locks, holding his face still to allow you to grind yourself on his mouth just the way you wanted.

your breath hitched in your throat each time his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue buried deep in your hole as he was desperate to taste all of your juices. you could already feel your orgasm creeping up on you..

“oh, shit! just like that. good- fuck! such a good boy” the praise sends him into a frenzy, now using the pad of his thumb to rub viciously at your clit as his tongue fucked into you so nicely.

“‘m cumming, cumming, oh my god!” you’re hunched over now, eyes screwed shut when your orgasm suddenly rips through you. kirishima’s tongue continued its assault on your spasming pussy, the overstimulation becoming almost unbearable. you tried everything to get him off of you to make it stop. tugging his hair, lifting yourself up- but nothing seemed to be able to separate him from you until you literally shouted his name.

he released you in an instant and allowed you to back away to fully take in his form. everything about the sight was downright sinful. your juices covered the entire lower half of his face, and his hair remained matted with sweat against his forehead. and most delicious of all? he still looked hungry. you nearly said ‘fuck it’ and climbed back on top of him again...

but he needed to be punished.

and it seemed that he knew this too, because the moment your eyes met he was already begging for mercy. “‘m sorry! p-“ “i thought you promised you’d be a good boy? yaknow, i’m not exactly a big fan of liars, red. how could i let you have me when you can’t even follow simple instructions?” he’s silent at this point, eyes glued to the ground with an unreadable emotion splayed across his face.

you huffed as you climbed off of the bed, standing on wobbly legs with your back turned to him. you shook your head as you quickly slid your dress back into place. you originally planned on leaving it at this and sending him home, and perhaps you’d consider giving him a second shot if he begged you pretty enough. but kiri had other plans.

he wasn’t quite sure what came over him, but when he realized that you were planning on leaving him like that he couldn’t help but to jump up, gripping onto your waist once again. “kiri! what are you doing?” “please.” he whimpered into your ear, hard chest pressing into your back and his painfully hard cock rutting against your ass.

you probably would’ve collapsed right there if it weren’t for his tight grasp. “please don’t leave! ‘m so hard for you. want you so fucking bad. i’ll do anything, just- please let me cum. mommy.” the word rolled off of his tongue so sweetly, so heavenly, you couldn’t stop yourself from shoving him back onto the bed and tearing off his shirt.

you licked your lips when he was left completely bare to you finally, hand already working at pumping his cock. “suck a dirty boy. men like you are scum, you know that? getting so upset that you didn’t get your way after being so disobedient? i should tie you up and edge you for the rest of the night just for that” he began to mindlessly shake his head, muttering quiet a ‘no, no..’

“however,” you began to drag your fingernail across his chest, playing with the hairs that rested there, “think i’m gonna let it slide this time. well, only if you thank me properly..”

“thank you mommy!” the way there wasn’t even an ounce of hesitation or shame in his voice had you clenching around nothing. denying him any longer was beginning to be just as much torture to yourself as it was to him. biting down on your lip, you grabbed his cock and started pressing the tip to your entrance.

you began to feel as though you’ve managed to completely break him, watching as he continued to sputter out ‘thank you’s even as you struggled to take his cock in your dripping cunt. the stretch was nearly unbearable at first, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

you weren’t going to stop until you knew you’ve completely broken him down into a blubbering mess for you. until you were the only thing he could think of. until you had him quivering and begging just for you. the thought of making him into your slave had you bouncing on his dick with energetic vigor.

kirishima was a sight to behold, too. eyes crossed and occasionally fluttering shut, panting like a dog as every bit of his stamina oozed out of him and he had to hold himself back from cumming too quickly.

at one point you caught his eyes glued on to the way your covered tits bounced while you rode him, still clad in your tight dress. you smirked devilishly before reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, tugging it down with the dress once again and toying with your puffy nipples for his viewing pleasure.

that seemed to be the final straw for kiri, as he was now bucking up into you like a horny mutt. “gonna cum so hard, mommy. please let me cum in you. g’nna fill you up so good. wanna make you a mommy. i want it- i want it- i want it...” with all of his babbling you weren’t quite sure if he was aware of what he was saying right now, but the lewd words still had you spiraling closer and closer.

“cum in me, baby. be a good boy for mommy and give her your babies, okay?” you told him as you gripped his face in your hands.

and like the obedient little thing he is,, he did exactly that.

thirsts and requests for haikyuu and bnha are open.

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Nine

Another cliffhanger? Me? Nah. 

All characters belong to @lumosinlove

@donttouchmycarrots is the best and I love her so much. She also inspired a lot of this chapter’s angst, so it’s not all my fault this time! <3

CW: violence, blood/injuries, guns/gun violence

Clandestine Masterlist

.

Sirius woke up alone. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual, until he remembered the events of the night before. Wandering hands, soft, needy sighs, and warm lips that kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. He rolled onto his stomach and smothered himself with his pillow to hide the smile that took over his entire face, heart beating giddily in his chest. That happened.

Holy shit.

But that begged the question: where was he?

Sirius stayed in bed for a few moments, thinking that maybe Remus was coming back, but then he got too impatient and crawled out of bed to go searching. If he was camped out in front of that laptop again this early… but no. He was standing in front of the stove, prodding at the contents of a frying pan. The smell of coffee reached Sirius and he smiled again as he entered the kitchen, making sure his footsteps were loud enough for Remus to hear - that way it wasn’t a surprise when he came to stand behind Remus and wrapped his arms around his waist, hooking his chin on his shoulder to watch what was happening on the stove. 

A general rule of dating a spy - don’t sneak up on them. It tends to end badly.

“Morning.” Sirius mumbled, turning his head to press a lingering kiss to a tendon in Remus’ neck and smiling against warm skin. Remus hummed, leaning back into Sirius’ chest and angling his neck to give him better access. That simple, innocuous motion stole Sirius’ breath. Remus didn’t trust easily - Sirius could understand why, given everything he’d been through. But there he was, relaxed against Sirius, eyes closed, completely trusting. Sirius wasn’t exactly sure what to do with something so precious, but damn he really didn’t want to screw this up. So he continued to place kiss after kiss to Remus’s skin, finding a ticklish spot right below his ear that made him laugh and squirm in Sirius’ arms before he shoved him away, a wide, happy smile on his face.

Had Sirius ever been this happy before? He doubted it.

“So what’s for breakfast, chef?” He asked, peering at the frying pan. Remus turned the stove off and grabbed plates from the cabinet by the fridge while Sirius grabbed silverware and napkins. It was incredibly domestic. Sirius couldn’t get enough of it.

“Scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. Nothing gourmet, but it’s the best I can do.” He answered as he scooped eggs out of the frying pan and grabbed toast from the toaster, then handed the plate to Sirius. They took their plates to the tiny kitchen table, along with the coffee and creamer and jams before sitting down to eat.

It was… nice. Their relationship had changed a lot the night before, but it was easy - a seamless transition from friends to more. He’d always assumed there would be some awkwardness with a big change like that, but it felt normal. Remus still teased him for how he took his coffee, Sirius still kicked him for it. They went over their plans for the day and what they wanted to get done. The ease of it all made Sirius wonder just how long they’d been teetering over that precipice.

It also made him feel guilty, how happy he was when his brother was still trapped with the Snakes and Finn still missing. Remus seemed to recognize his shift in emotion and smiled sadly, reaching across the table to tangle their hands together.

“We’re going to figure something out.” He said quietly before taking a sip of coffee, not once letting go of Sirius’ hand but playing with his fingers absentmindedly. It made it a bit tricky to eat, but Sirius couldn’t say he minded one bit.

He hoped Remus was right.

***

“Update?” Talker asked as soon as Remus and Sirius entered the office, looking tired. He kept pace with them as they walked, eager for a response. He and Finn were pretty close, constantly cracking jokes and trading jabs and playing pranks. But then again, Finn was a very outgoing guy - he was pretty close with a lot of people.

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner they found a gathering of people outside Remus’ office, all friends. All worried.

And a stranger standing next to Kasey, watching them as they approached. Red hair, brown eyes, faint freckles.

Remus didn’t have to ask who he was.

He stuck his hand out for the agent to shake. “O’Hara.”

Alex shook his hand briefly, soulful eyes a myriad of warring emotions. “Please tell me what the hell is going on.”

Remus looked at him, then the rest of the people around his office. They all needed to know what was going on, but he felt like Alex deserved the chance to hear this on his own, without the prying eyes of a bunch of strangers.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what he needed. It was like a sixth sense. “Lions, to the conference room! I’ll tell you what we know.” He gave Remus a warm smile, one that he was helpless to return. Last night was… blinding, as strange as it sounded. Sirius was all he could see now - the bright, expressive eyes, full, addictive lips, and wow he needed to get off this train of thought quickly. He had important things to do today.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what was on his mind. His smile turned secretive and sly before he shot Remus a wink and led the way to the conference room, leaving only Alex. Remus looked at him, then jerked his head towards his office. Alex followed after him and instantly sat down in one of the extra chairs, eyes never leaving Remus. He looked tired, worried, desperate for answers.

Remus sighed, an ache in his chest. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him, dealing with his younger brother being kidnapped. If it was Jules, Remus would lose his mind. “Let’s just start at the beginning, ok?” And so he did. He went over the general premise of the mission, what they’d done so far, and what went wrong. Alex listened quietly, taking it in.

When they were finally caught up Alex leaned back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair - a motion that was so Finn that Remus had to hold his breath for a second before releasing it. “So do we have any leads? What’s the plan?”

“We’ve got three possible locations. We’re going to try to narrow it down and then send in the two operatives we’ve already got in Slytherin.”

“Finn’s partners.”

There was something about the way Alex said that. The wrinkle in his brow, eyes hard and unflinching. Unforgiving. Remus gave him a look, keeping his voice neutral. “It was a freak accident, O’Hara. Not their fault.”

He wasn’t brave enough to tell the agent how much of that fault rested on his own shoulders. He was basically in charge of this mission. He’d been the one in charge of planning, giving them the go-ahead, looking out for signs of danger. There were signs of the op going bad - he could see that now, in hindsight. But hindsight was always 20/20, wasn’t it?

And now he was sitting here, explaining to the brother of the agent he let get kidnapped that they didn’t really have a solid plan. They were still scattered and struggling to recollect themselves after that disaster of a mission. What exactly was he supposed to say?

Alex ignored his earlier attempt at placation. “You’re telling me that your plan is to send one agent and a rookie safe-cracker into Snakes headquarters and break my brother out? That’s all you’ve got?”

“The rest of us are already on their radar. If we sent in other agents-”

“Bullshit.” Alex growled, leaning forward dangerously. And really, Remus couldn’t fault him for any of this. Their bond ran deep, apparently. “You’re taking down the Snakes anyways, what’s wrong with pushing up the timeline a little? We don’t need to be covert anymore, we need to be dominant and aggressive.”

“That makes your brother collateral damage,” Remus reasoned. “We go in guns-blazing, the first thing they’ll do is make it a hostage situation.”

Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping and all the fight leaving him in a split-second, frustration rolling off him in waves. “Fuck.”

“We’ve got an ex-Snake on the team and a guy on the inside. Potentially,” he felt like he had to add, because he still wasn’t sure what to think of the younger Black brother. Sirius trusted him, sure, but was that enough?

One wrong move and they could lose three agents. This required precision and cunning, not hot-headed recklessness.

“We’re going to do our best to get him out of there.” Remus finally finished, trying to instill confidence with just the words. Alex just smiled sadly.

“Good media answer, right there.”

Remus’ phone buzzed twice in his pocket, signaling an incoming message. He fumbled with it for a second, then looked down at the screen. “Well, I might have a better answer in a few minutes. One of his partners says they’ve got news.”

Remus just hoped it was finally some good news.

***

Logan was still pacing - back and forth, back and forth. It wasn’t a stressed pace this time, exactly. His stride was longer, full of pent-up energy and restlessness. Leo was switching between watching him and reading the messages Regulus sent the night before to Loops and Sirius, who were both listening intently.

“So let me get this straight.” Remus said through the computer speakers. “Regulus said he’d turn off one of the cameras that overlooks a side door, sneak you two in, and then help you get both him and Finn out?” He and Sirius were sitting close together at the conference table, sneaking glances at each other when they thought no one was looking.

Leo smiled knowingly. Good for them.

“Yeah.” Logan said as he continued to pace. “Get in, get them, get out. Simple.”

“Well,” Leo said, stretching out the word and watching Logan’s eyes snap to him. Yeah, he wasn’t going to like this. “According to Reg, one of Riddle’s flash drives is there too - in a safe in his office. Logan can get Finn, and I can-”

“No.”

“Logan,” Leo sighed, giving him a look. “After we get Finn out, they’ll put that place on lockdown. We won’t get another shot at getting this drive and you know it. Plus Riddle’s not even there right now. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“When did he even tell you that?” Logan asked, staring at him incredulously. “I don’t remember this at all.”

“That would be because I’ve been texting him this morning because I knew you’d react like this.” Leo rushed to finish his sentence and be heard over Logan’s loud dissent.

“React how? Logically?”

“Over-protectively.” Leo corrected, watching the aggravation return to his pacing again as he grumbled something under his breath. “If we get this drive, that only leaves the ones Lestrange and Riddle have on them. Reg said he could probably grab the one Bellatrix has - he can replace it with the fake I slipped into his pocket at the gala-”

“Nut, you can’t be serious.”

Leo glared at him. “It’s a perfectly solid plan.”

“And it’s dangerous!”

“Are you forgetting what our jobs are?” Leo asked with an incredulous laugh. “Everything we do is dangerous.”

“Leo.”

The blond looked to the laptop, where Sirius and Loops were looking back at him. “Back me up here.”

Remus glanced over at Sirius, then back to Leo. “It’s risky, but if you feel like you can do it-”

“I can.” Leo said, no room for argument. The kid who was nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh and staring off into space before his first mission was long gone, replaced by a calm, confident agent - who still drummed his fingers on a regular basis, but who was self-assured and comfortable with his role. Logan wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened, but he was proud nonetheless - even if he was still terrified.

“When’s Reg going for Lestrange’s drive?” Sirius asked, in a similar state as Logan. Worried, but knowing he was fighting a losing battle. This was happening whether they liked it or not.

“She puts it in the same spot every night before she goes to bed, so he’ll grab it right before we get there when she’s already asleep. If we go really early in the morning - like really early - everyone should be asleep, save for a few.”

“They’re cocky like that,” Sirius added, “No one’s ever been dumb enough to try to break in, so they won’t be as prepared for it.”

Leo frowned, not sure whether to take offense or not. “Thanks?”

“So how long do you think getting into the safe will take?” Remus asked, keeping all of them on track, as usual. The steadiness and predictability calmed Logan down, just a little.

Leo shrugged. “Don’t know, depends on what kind of safe it is. Reg doesn’t know.”

“So you’re going in blind.” Logan finished, anxiety churning in his gut. That calmness had lasted all of three seconds. He didn’t like this. There was so much that could go wrong; it was risky enough sneaking in to get Finn out of there, but adding this on top of it? What if one of them got caught? What if all of them got caught? What if Regulus wasn’t as trustworthy as Sirius claimed? What if they were just walking into another trap?

What if, what if, what if. There were too many variables to this, too much at risk.

He’d never really hated his job before. In the past he’d loved the suspense, the intrigue, the unpredictability. He’d grown up wanting a career that had action and adventure, just like the movies he and his sisters used to watch. Now all the things he used to love were the things that were stressing him out the most. But then, he’d never had partners before - definitely not partners he was halfway in love with.

He was starting to hate this job now.

Leo’s voice brought him back to the conversation. “Not really. It’s either going to be a digital safe or manual. I’d crack a digital safe the same way I cracked the ones at the banks, and manual safes are kind of like giant locks. I just feel for the sticking points and do the math.”

“There’s math?” Sirius asked, looking disgusted. Logan thought back to Finn saying the exact same words, all three of them squished together on the bed with a nature documentary playing in the background, warm and content and relaxed. No stress, no sense of impending disaster, no one missing.

He wanted that again, more than anything.

He felt like this wasn’t the way to do it, though. Which was ironic, seeing that he was the one who usually wanted to be reckless. That was his M.O. - the rough, hotheaded agent who wasn’t afraid to take some risks. He completely changed his tune when those risks endangered his partners.

He couldn’t lose them - either of them. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if...

But arguing against this rescue mission was like leading a horse to water - pointless. The only thing left to do was to prepare. So Logan tuned the conversation out and started planning for every possible outcome he could think of. He wasn’t going to be left just reacting, not this time. He was going into this with every last detail mapped out, every potential misstep accounted for, every contingency plan organized in his head.

He wasn’t going to let anything go wrong. He couldn’t.

***

The alarm Leo and Logan had set was essentially useless, seeing that it found the two of them already awake, going over the plan in their heads. Logan stretched his arm out to shut it off, then rolled over to look at Leo. Blue eyes were already staring back, alight with optimism- a stark contrast to how Logan was feeling. He just hoped tonight wasn’t the night he would be disappointed.

“We’re going to get him back.” The blond said, no sleepiness to his voice as he softly leaned in to kiss Logan sweetly, then more enthusiastically. Logan let himself get lost in it for a while, a heart-wrenching distraction, accepting kiss after excited kiss with a sigh against soft lips. He took the lead a second later, pushing Leo back into the mattress and pressing their chests together, getting as close as he could manage and relaxing into the warmth.

“And then we’ll all be together again.” He added after a while, trying to reassure both Leo and himself as he kissed a dimple and earned a smile, bright in the early-morning darkness. “And we can finally have that talk.”

Leo hummed happily and pulled him down for one last lingering kiss before shimmying his way out from under Logan and getting to his feet, hair an absolute mess from a night of tossing and turning and Logan’s hands. Logan felt strangely proud of himself for that.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Leo chanted, dashing to his suitcase to grab clothes. His enthusiasm visibly shown in every action - brushing his teeth, pulling on his shoes, grabbing his tools. Logan soon found himself dressed and ready to go, turning his earpiece on and testing his mic. His gun was loaded and ready, a comforting weight at his hip. Leo’s voice echoed in his ear as he tested his mic, loud and clear. His tools were all packed up and smuggled away in his pockets, determination written across his face.

They were going to get him back.

Logan pulled up the directions to the address Regulus had sent them and they hurried to their car, blasting the heat as high as it would go to try and defrost the windows. The clock read 4:13 am as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot and headed down the street.

The drive was tense with anticipation and nerves and adrenaline. Leo’s leg never stopped bouncing from the passenger’s seat as he stared out the window, clearly lost in thought because it was still pitch black outside - he definitely wasn’t looking at anything. Logan kept his eyes on the road ahead and his thoughts on their mission, going over the details one last time as the navigation app instructed him to turn right.

The building they were infiltrating was on the very outskirts of Slytherin, somewhat secluded and run-of-the-mill. If Logan wasn’t sure this was the right place, he would never have guessed this to be a Snakes’ building. Which was probably exactly what they were going for.

Logan drove straight past the building, continuing down the road for a while until he figured they wouldn’t raise suspicion. He put the car in park, switched the headlights off, then turned to face his partner.

“You ready?”

The resulting grin was luminous. “You know it.”

Logan nodded, nerves gnawing away at his stomach, and got out of the car. He and Leo snuck around to the southeast side of the building where they found a door, the light above it flickering occasionally. Leo sent Logan a look, then rapped on the door with his knuckles twice.

A few seconds passed by, then the door opened silently. Regulus Black stared back at them, face as impassive as always. The two agents stepped inside without another word, watching as Regulus closed the door behind them and locked it before turning to face them again.

“I’ve got Bellatrix’s drive,” he said, so quietly that Leo and Logan had to lean in a little to hear him. “Snagged it about twenty minutes ago and replaced it with the fake. She’ll never know the difference.”

“Perfect.” Leo grabbed Logan’s forearm, eyes bright and intense. “You go get Finn, I’ll grab the drive. Meet you back at the rendezvous.”

Logan still didn’t like the idea. He didn’t like the thought of being separated. “Leo-”

“No one’s out this early, it’ll be the easiest grab of my life. I’ll be careful - I’ll be so careful, Tremz. You gotta trust me.” He pressed their foreheads together briefly and Logan allowed himself that one moment to close his eyes and press back, inhaling deeply. He still smelled like the hotel’s shampoo, clean and citrusy. After all this, Logan didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the smell - or the memories that came with it. He couldn’t quite figure out if that was a bad thing or not. Because on the one hand, there was stress and kidnappings and hurt. But on the other hand, there was exciting, brand new kisses and falling asleep in his arms and the comfort of just being with him.

“Make it quick, ok?” he said finally, reluctantly leaning away and meeting blue eyes. Leo nodded, giving his hand a squeeze, and turned to set off down the hallway. Logan only allowed himself half a second to look after him - if he watched any longer, he just knew he’d start chasing after him, blindly following an angel and not caring where he was going. He’d probably follow him anywhere, if he could. He faced Regulus again instead, who was looking decidedly awkward. Logan just raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to lead the way.

His heart hammered louder and louder the more they walked, excitement and worry and adrenaline snowballing together and making his head spin. He could hear Leo’s quiet breathing through the coms, measured and steady and constant like the tide pushing and pulling against the shore. That, more than anything he tried to tell himself, calmed him down.

They reached a nondescript door and stopped in front of it. Logan glanced at Regulus, then back at the door. This was it. Finn was on the other side of that door. He was a paradoxical combination of excited and terrified of what he’d find on the other side of that door.

“I’m just going to wait out here,” Regulus said, moving so that his back was against the wall. “I’ve already witnessed you all soft and mushy tonight - I don’t think I can handle seeing it again. I’ll keep an eye out from here.”

Logan sent him a grin, incredibly pleased with himself and completely unashamed.

He took one last, deep breath and opened the door.

The sound of the door must have woken Finn, because the first thing Logan saw was the shifting of shoulder and back muscles as the redhead sat up with an annoyed grumble. “What the fuck is so important that you feel the need to wake me up this early?” He demanded, reaching up to further tousle his hair as he swiveled around to face the door. Their eyes locked and Finn froze, staring at him with his mouth agape and wide, wide brown eyes, one of which was blackened and swollen. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, dark and distracting. Logan’s breath left him in a rush, like he’d been the one punched in the face.

“Lo,” Finn whispered, that one syllable barely loud enough to reach Logan’s ears. He sat up straighter in an instant and continued to stare, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Logan?”

That was all it took to spur Logan into action. He crossed the room in five quick paces and then he was on his knees in front of Finn, reaching for him hesitantly. Finn practically launched himself at him, arms around his neck and holding tight - almost bruisingly. Logan didn’t care. He’d gladly take the bruises if it meant having his partner in his arms again. It hadn’t even been that long since Logan had seen him, but it felt like an entire lifetime. He hugged Finn closer, probably holding him too tight, before leaning back and looking him over. Frantic hands passed over skin and clothing, feeling for injuries.

“You ok?” He asked, reaching up to tilt Finn’s face so that he could examine the black eye and split lip. Calloused fingers traced gingerly over constellations of freckles, marred by purples and greens and yellows. “God, Finn-”

Finn laughed a little, reaching up to still Logan’s hand and pressing it to his stubbled cheek instead. Logan could feel his smile against his palm and melted. “I’m ok. It looks worse than it actually is, I’m sure.”

You’re still gorgeous, Logan thought as he swiped a thumb across his cheek. He wanted to drown in the sight in front of him. Finn wasn’t great but he was ok and considering the circumstances, that was all Logan could really ask for. He was still livid, of course. And the ones who’d hurt Finn would get what was coming for them. That much he could guarantee.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Finn murmured, still leaning into Logan’s touch. Logan just shook his head firmly, eyes serious. How did Finn expect him to leave him behind? He clearly had no idea just how little they could function without him, the gaping hole he’d left in his absence.

Finn looked over Logan’s shoulder, then back to Logan with worried eyes. “Leo?” He asked and let Logan help him to his feet, favoring his left leg. Logan tightened his grip on his biceps and steadied him before answering.

“Currently? In Riddle’s office cracking a safe.”

Leo’s voice, calm and even, came through the coms. “Tell Finn I said hey.” Logan grinned.

“He says hey.”

Finn looked offended. He leaned closer to the mic Logan was wearing at the collar of his shirt, making the brunet still. The expression on his face - a comical combination of panic and turned-on - made Finn smile as he spoke. “You’re breaking me out of here after I was kidnapped and the only thing you can think of to say is hey?”

“Well, I was planning on saving the sentimental shit for when I actually see you.” Leo said distractedly from his spot on the floor in front of a truly ancient safe, rotating the dial slowly and feeling for the last remaining sticking point. “It’s good to hear your voice, though.”

He heard Logan relay the message to Finn, and then Finn’s resulting coo. Leo laughed under his breath at the sound right as the safe opened with a loud click, opening to reveal nothing inside but a blue and gray flash drive.

“I can’t believe this is the only thing he keeps in a safe like this.” Leo grumbled, reaching forward to make the switch-

Right as the office door opened.

Leo whirled around, slipping the real flash drive into his pocket as he faced whoever had walked in on him.

Unnatural yellow eyes stared back.

And a gun was pointed at his chest.

He could tell Riddle recognized him from the party by the curl of his lips that formed the beginnings of a smile. Cold dread washed over Leo at the bizarre sight. He wasn’t sure anyone had seen the leader of the Snakes smile before. If they did, they hadn’t lived to tell the tale. Leo’s heart raced as all he could do was stand there and stare. His gun sat heavily at his hip, but he knew reaching for it would only speed up the inevitable. He stayed still.

Leo’s partners were still talking over the coms, happy and ignorant of the situation going on right down the hall from them. As Leo stared down the barrel of a gun, he thought maybe it was for the best. Riddle wouldn’t react well to breaking Finn out of here, he knew that much. At least this would be a good distraction - if Riddle was focused on him, he wouldn’t be focused on his partners. Maybe they’d be able to get out of here before Riddle even realized the real reason Leo was in the building.

He’d rather die than give either of them up. He was a little scared at the honesty behind that statement… and the likelihood of it happening much sooner than he’d hoped.

Riddle adjusted his sights without saying a single word, finger against the trigger. Leo sucked in a harsh breath and braced himself.

Bang.

[angstyaches]

On Edge

Request from @alliya :

I am loving all your stories! Maybe you could do one with Shayne not feeling good and he has a stomach ache. Hiding it from Charlie and they have a fight since Shayne is super grumpy. Of course they make up and Charlie gives Shayne tummy rubs! 🥰

CW: stomach ache, nausea mention, food mention, disordered eating and past trauma mention, characters having a disagreement (but of course, making up afterwards), bad, BAD self esteem

___

Shayne wanted to throw up so badly. And yet, he really, really didn’t want to. He put one hand on the edge of the bathroom sink – the other was hovering near his mouth – as he tried to steady his breathing. He’d closed his eyes to avoid seeing himself in the mirror; he looked visibly nauseated and didn’t want to psych himself out any further.

Keep it down, he told himself for the fifteenth time. He let out the slowest breath he could manage, waiting for the nausea to pass. Keep it the fuck down.

As soon as it felt safe to open his eyes, he shakily filled his hands with cool water and splashed it on his face. His stomach was killing him – he had to straighten himself slowly to avoid making it hurt more – but at least he couldn’t feel it physically churning anymore. He dried his face and made his way back out to the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t been gone long enough for Charlie to worry.

Charlie was switching on the dishwasher when Shayne stepped onto the kitchen tiles. The air still smelled of the chicken and rice Charlie had made, and Shayne had to slow his breathing again to make sure the nausea didn’t return. As much as he didn’t want to risk Charlie blaming himself – or his cooking – for Shayne’s current state, he was considering telling him about the stomach ache. Sometimes it was hard for him to cope with being fussed over, but Charlie always ended up making him feel better.

“Oh, hey,” Charlie smiled as he turned around. His blue eyes twinkled as he crossed the room. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Shayne replied, panicked. He flinched as he was pulled into a hug. The pressure was unpleasant on his stomach for the first few seconds, but then the warmth from Charlie’s body started to feel good pressed against him, and he leaned into the embrace with a sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” Charlie whispered near his ear.

Shayne’s chest fluttered. “What – why’s that?”

“You sat down to eat with me three times today.” Charlie rubbed his hand over Shayne’s back. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I know it sounds silly, but that feels like progress, right?”

A chill ran down Shayne’s spine, right behind Charlie’s hand.

That was true, even if breakfast had just been coffee and lunch had just been a slice of toast, but the statement still  turned the hug into something invasive and unpleasant. Shayne put his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and pushed him back, putting a few inches between them. A cramp fluttered through his gut and almost made him wince, but he fought through it.

“What the fuck, Charlie?” He felt dizzy as he said it, like he was spinning away from the scene as it was unfolding.

Charlie’s face fell. “What?”

“You’re keeping score of what I eat?”

“I-I – no, I wouldn’t – that’s not what...” A sick, nervous laugh escaped Charlie’s lips as he fumbled a reply. “I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

“No, no, you’re watching how much I eat, and you’re… judging me.”

“Judging?” Charlie scoffed, shrugging helplessly. “All I said was that I was happy –”

“Right, which means that sometimes, you’re not happy with me.” Shayne found himself crossing his arms and pulling them hard against his stomach. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to disappear, he wanted to be gone, he wanted to rewind the past few seconds and start again.

“Look, I’m – I’m sorry,” Charlie exclaimed, though he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I just want you to be okay, Shayne! Do you know how much this whole thing scares me? I’ve had nightmares about it, like – like, you have no idea!”

Shayne flinched again, both at his boyfriend’s tone and at the revelation.

“So, yes,” Charlie sighed, a flush of red rising to his cheeks as his eyes started watering. “Yes, I’m keeping an eye on you, and yes, I care about what you’re eating. I’ll be at college soon, and I need to know you’re gonna be okay –”

“If you’re going to treat me like this,” Shayne snapped, fighting to keep his voice from breaking, “then, I might as well be back with…”

He didn’t have to say their names, the vampires who’d raised him, who’d tried to starve him of human food and foster his ability to consume the souls of demons. The people who had made him like this in the first place.

Charlie blinked and choked out a tiny gasp. He looked like Shayne had just driven a knife into his gut. A single tear broke free and lingered high on his cheek.

Fuck. With his arms still held protectively against himself, Shayne turned and left the kitchen, not really sure where he was going to hide. There was nowhere that Charlie wouldn’t find him, if he wanted to. But maybe he wouldn’t find him. Shayne certainly wouldn’t have come looking for himself, after what he’d just said.

He ended up in the front living room, sitting at the edge of the sofa and holding his head in his hands. His chest felt tight and his stomach was knotted in pain, but it was nothing compared to the seared image in his mind, of the look on Charlie’s face when he’d said that awful thing.

If he was left to stew for long, the guilt might have physically dissolved him from the inside out, but he was only there a minute or two before Charlie came through the door.

His socks barely made a sound against the hardwood as he walked, and he was biting his lip.

“Shayne, I’m – I’m sorry for making you feel like I was trying to control you.” He gently sat down on the next couch cushion over, hands in his lap. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m… fucking horrible,” Shayne groaned, rubbing his palms over his face. “I didn’t mean any of that, Charlie, I… I’m sorry. You’re amazing. I love you, and I hate myself, and I shouldn’t take it out on you...”

“No, no, no, stop that.” Charlie turned sideways and opened his arms for another hug, and this time Shayne sank into it like a hot bath. Charlie’s hand went to the back of Shayne’s head, fingers curling into his hair. “I don’t ever want to hear you say you hate yourself, okay? That hurts more than the other stuff because you say it like you really mean it.”

Shayne gulped hard. Why did he always have to make everything so much more difficult than –?

“Okay?” Charlie asked, more sternly this time.

“Okay.” Shayne frowned, feeling another cramp flutter through his stomach. His heart skipped a beat as Charlie pressed a kiss into his hair. What was left of his resolve melted into a puddle. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“I… might be slightly on edge because my stomach hurts,” Shayne mumbled, nuzzling his forehead into Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie let out a sympathetic groan. He was sitting too close to comfortably use his palm, but he brushed the back of his hand over Shayne’s belly. “I mean, you’re entitled to your feelings, lovely, but having a sore tummy never helps. Was dinner too much?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“Okay, that’s useful info for tomorrow,” Charlie sighed, leaning back from the hug so he could see Shayne’s face. He also turned his hand over, so that he was gently cupping Shayne’s belly with his palm. “I’m sorry it hurts now, though. Do you want anything for it?”

“Just you.”

The twinkle appeared in Charlie’s eyes, like it had before things had gotten tense in the kitchen. “You have me, idiot.”

Shayne held Charlie’s hand in place as he sank back into the sofa, tugging Charlie along with him. A soft laugh escaped from Charlie as he got comfortable alongside his boyfriend, fingers tracing gently over his abdomen once his hand was freed.

“Try to relax, if you can,” Charlie urged softly, noticing Shayne was still frowning and gazing into space. “Everything’s okay.”

Even as warmth curled down through the solid mass of pain in the pit of his stomach, Shayne was gritting his teeth against the dark thoughts that tried to tell him he didn’t deserve these gentle, soothing touches. He closed his eyes and breathed through those thoughts, just like he’d breathed through the nausea before; there was a kind, beautiful boy on the sofa with him who believed that he deserved to be taken care of. What right did he have to question him?

He opened his eyes again and gave that boy a tired half-smile.

“What?” Charlie asked, his attention briefly snatched away from his own hands working on Shayne’s belly.

Shayne shook his head. “Nothing, just – thank you for looking after me.”

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.21 "The 'Welcome Home' Committee"

CW: nightmares/PTSD/flashbacks, dehumanizing language/themes, collar mention, aftermath of emotional abuse/gaslighting, tourettes/ticcing, self deprecating whumpee, drugs/alcohol (explicit), discussion of past noncon/dubcon, whumpee expecting noncon/dubcon, injury/blood mention, brief sensory deprivation mention, food mention (let me know if I missed anything!)

Tyson was holding Elias close against him in their shared bed, mind almost entirely occupied with the thought of how happy he was that Elias was home safe. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like he was enjoying the way Tyson was stroking down his back gently, his body arching into the touch. Tyson watched with interest, trying to tell if he was aware of his reaction, if he was asleep. It didn't matter, he decided, he had his Elias in his arms, twitching and stirring and alive, so it didn't matter if he was awake and aware or not. Tyson was observing him closely for any signs of a nightmare just in case he was asleep, but the last time he saw him have one it wasn't evident until he woke up, gasping and searching the dark for a threat, so he was sure he wouldn't be able to tell until it was too late. When he wasn't keeping a watchful eye on Elias, he shifted his focus between the bedroom door and the window, paying extra close attention to any car or person that passed by.

Tyson was ready this time, the doors were locked and the hall light was on, he had a baseball bat hung up on the door. Elias had to feel safe, he would show him that it was ok to be home, that Tyson really wasn't going to let anything bad happen to him, not again.

Still, even with all of the new safety precautions, it wasn't too long after the sun started to rise that Elias bolted out of Tyson's arms and out of bed, his shoulders hitting the wall hard as he stumbled into the corner.

"No! No, no, no! Please God, please!" He cried, arms wrapped around his shaking body as he slowly slid down to the floor, anguished sobs retching him forward. "I'll be g-good! I'll be good!"

"Elias!" Tyson rushed, hopping out of bed and approaching him carefully. "It's ok, you're ok!"

"I told them no! P-please, don't h-hurt me please!!" He had his eyes squeezed shut, arms pulling his legs to his chest to protect his body. Tyson watched him flinch away from injuring hands that were only there in his imagination. Tyson hadn't even tried to touch him yet. "I swear I'll be better!"

"Baby, listen to me," he tried, dropping his voice low to try and counteract Elias's hysteria, "it's me, it's Tyson. No one's gonna hurt you."

Elias shook his head furiously, ducking away further into the corner. He was sobbing and begging incoherently now, his panic manifesting into cries of "please, please d-dont, I'm so sorry, please!" and the like.

Tyson had an idea of what to say to try and calm Elias, but even thinking the words made him bitter. When Allen had first gotten back from August, Tyson and Leo had to adopt some of his heinous language in order to keep Allen calm. Tyson remembered how quickly it worked, how it could make Allen drop his hysteria in only moments. They used it only when they had exhausted all other options, because both Leo and Tyson were upset at how much it felt like speaking to a dog. But it was different with Elias, Tyson couldn't encourage him to stay in the same mindset he'd been forced into, so he wouldn't use the same language August used, he refused to. He tried again, in his own way. "Eli, everything's ok. Look at me, please."

"I c-c-cant!" He sobbed again, thrown back into hysterics. "I won't, August! I'll be good!"

Tyson wanted to put a hole through the wall. Fucking August. He broke Elias, he made him unable to sleep through the night, made him too scared to remember Tyson. It was repulsive, to see the aftermath of such a monster on the person he loved. He thought back to Allen, how fast he was able to calm down at those two, dangerously sweet words. But would Elias even react the same? What if it just made it worse? All of those fears and more ran rampant through his head, but he was running out of options, and Elias wasn't calming down, so he really didn't have another choice.

"Angel," he murmured, extending his hand slowly, trying to coax him to open up a bit, "you're alright. You're...you're a good boy, Eli."

It worked like a charm, and Tyson cringed at the effectiveness. Elias relaxed, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward. He looked so scared still, head turned to the side so he wasn't looking at Tyson, inching out of the corner slowly. His ragged breathing was evening out a little at a time. "I...I...?"

"Yeah, there you go. Good." He smiled softly at Elias in the pale blue morning sun, moving to lean against the wall with him. He was relieved when Elias rested his head against his shoulder, sighing deeply as he did. Tyson looped his fingers around his thigh, squeezing gently. "I've got you, darling."

Elias whimpered, ticcing in small twitches against Tyson. "I'm s-sorry." He breathed, muted by his guilt, barely audible.

"No, don't be, Elias. Are you ok now? Are you back with me?"

"I think so." As he spoke, he turned to look up at Tyson, blinking hard to clear the tears from his eyes. "Hm...Ty." He breathed. "My Tyson."

"Yeah. Yeah, love, that's right." He searched Elias's face for a moment, taking in the remnants of fear leftover from his nightmare. "Do you...you wanna talk about it?"

Elias didn't say anything for a long time, looking away from Tyson and instead out the window as he pondered the question. It was windy, the palm trees just outside were swaying against the breeze. He realized that it must've been early morning, and a twinge of guilt for waking Tyson up like that hit him. He didn't know if he wanted to talk about it, about August or the strangers or the pain. But Tyson deserved to know, and he was asking like maybe he wanted to hear what happened. So Elias turned his attention back to Tyson and started talking.

"I don't understand what I did wrong. I don't know why he stopped… pretending to care about me." The weight of the sentence made him feel tired all over again, and he was frightened to be admitting to his confusion. He was an idiot, to not even know what he did to be punished. He knew that it was well deserved, but that's about where the understanding stopped. "I mean...I know I messed up somehow, but I can't remember what I did. He just stopped c-caring."

"You didn't do anything, Eli. It was all him."

"No...Ty, he cared about me, at least a little. He went through all that trouble to...how could I not be good enough for him? What does that say about me?"

"It says that you're too good for a scumbag like that. Maybe he just finally realized that."

Elias froze. He didn't believe it, of course, but the words made something glimmer behind his tears. "Too...too good?"

"Yes, love," Tyson cooed softly, taking his hand, "he knew that people like him don't deserve good people like you. He must've just dropped the facade."

"So who am I...Am I good enough for you? Not too good?" His voice was desperate, borderline hopeful, if Tyson dared to believe that.

"Mhm. You're perfect." He chuckled softly, squeezing his hand ever so gently. "And I want you so badly. Good or not."

Elias finally broke a smile, a genuine, almost carefree, grin as he looked up at Tyson in adoration. He was still shaking, but his breathing was back to normal and he felt more grounded. Usually August would force him to ride out the fear from the nightmares on his own, then punish him later for keeping him awake with his whimpering. "Sorry I woke you up like that." He added it, just for good measure, because Tyson didn't hurt him, he wouldn't, but he was still nervous. He wondered when that would stop.

"You didn't, baby. Besides, it's morning anyway." He stood up, pulling Elias up with him. "Also uh...Allen's been asking about you. If you're ok with it he wanted to come check on you later."

"T...today?" He mumbled, sinking back onto the mattress and watching Tyson pick a shirt out from the closet.

"You can get settled in first, I don't want to overwhelm you-"

Elias could laugh. Settle in, what a joke. Ten months in France made this place he used to call home feel distant and strange, how could he possibly settle in? "Today's fine. I just wanna...wanna wake up and stuff first."

"You sure? You've only been home a day."

"I'm sure," he smiled at him to really sell it, and Tyson nodded approvingly.

Elias washed the dishes as they waited for Allen to show up, Tyson was tidying up in the other room. Supposedly Leo was coming too, and Elias was heavy with fear. He'd be sent away before they got there, surely, given substances to shut him up. Or maybe Tyson would allow Elias to be used, maybe he'd watch.

Elias was afraid at the dreadful excitement he felt at the idea. He was sick to his stomach with anxiety at the possibility of something like that happening, but he couldn't see past the obsessive need to be touched, to be used. He finished the dishes, ducking off to the bathroom to make sure he looked ok. His pale hair curled into small waves in front of his face, it felt unnatural to not find any dried blood in it. His wide eyes and flushed face were still tainted with injuries, but there was nothing he could do about it besides wait for them to heal. Besides, the people who used him usually liked him bruised up anyways, they usually kissed his injuries with patronizing softness or pressed on his bruises to watch him squirm. He fixed his shirt, then realized all at once that he was too sober for this, that he couldn't be used this aware. Couldn't be good. He began to frantically search through the cabinets for anything that might make him feel better, pills or even mouthwash. His eyes fell onto a pill bottle on the top shelf of the mirror, his hands fumbled over it quickly. Tiny, colorful pills spilled into his hands, it was recognizably molly. He didn't know why Tyson had it, but it was August's favorite to give Elias, and so he knew it well. He threw two pills back, chasing them with water from the sink, and then returned the bottle back to its spot. After he started to feel it just a little, he looked back into the mirror and fixed himself up a little more, forcing a smile at his reflection, just to see how it looked. Something was off, he didn't look right, he was worried that if he looked anything less than what he was used to, he would fall apart. The ground dropped from under him just a little when he realized what it was: his bare neck. He needed his collar, people were coming, he had to have it. Fucking stupid, he thought, spent months wishing you could take that thing off and now you suddenly want it again? Stupid fucking idiot.

In one of the drawers he found a silver chain, he inspected the little pendant dangling on the end, at the way the blue jewel in the middle caught the light when he turned it. He almost wanted to put it back, it was too nice for him, but he decided that it was better than nothing. He slipped it over his head, it was loose, but it would work fine. He looked so much better already.

"Elias, you ok in there?" Tyson was asking from the hallway. His voice was tight with anxiety and Elias instantly reached for the door handle and stepped out.

"I'm ok," he smiled at him, his grin lopsided so that his chipped tooth was showing just a little. "I was just getting ready."

Tyson tilted his head at him, smiling softly. "You look nice. How do you feel?"

Elias offered a lighthearted shrug, shuffling forward and standing up on his toes to kiss Tyson's nose softly. "M'ok. I cleaned the kitchen."

"I saw!" He took Elias's hand in his own and pulled him closer. "Thank you, for that. Very helpful."

Elias beamed at the praise, and Tyson was reminded again of Allen, how he lit up like a damn Christmas tree when someone said anything close to a compliment or approval, and it was quickly becoming evident that Elias was going to be the same. It was disgustingly cute how reactive they both were, how their lips twitched into a sick smile, their eyes fluttered helplessly. So beautiful, so tragic. He got this way through horrible mistreatment and brainwashing violence, but he looked so genuinely ecstatic that Tyson wasn't sure if he ever wanted to stop.

"Uh...they're waiting outside. We can let them in when you feel ready."

Elias took a breath, forcing himself to nod. He reminded himself to keep his composure, allow himself to be movable and soft and pretty. He was trembling all over, in excitement or fear he wasn't sure. Tyson rubbed his shoulder gently, still giving him a moment. When Elias finally seemed to come to terms with being around other people, he looked nervous all over again, but this time with a hint of eagerness behind his eyes. Tyson wondered how often he was allowed to see other people when he was with August. He said that August had kept him hidden away, but what exactly did that entail? When Allen was with him, he came back not used to light or sound because August had been keeping him depraved of those luxuries. Elias didn't seem like that though, he just seemed...skittish, too vigilant and too self hating to be around others. He spoke and carried himself like he knew he was less than them, and it bothered him just to be near them. And yet, at the same time, he looked exhilarated at the idea of putting himself into that position at any second. Finally, he looked up at Tyson with a wavering smile and nodded at him to tell him he was ready.

Allen looked way too good, Elias was completely baffled at how healed he seemed, like nothing had ever been wrong with him. How had he been with August and healed, how was he not broken forever? Elias didn't think he would ever be able to get there himself, all of this damage was irreversible, he couldn't imagine himself with a flushed, healthy face and a carefree grin. Or an ability to walk into a room with seemingly no issues or qualms, just existing. How could he do that?

He was also the first person to talk to Elias, which made him a little breathless at how unexpected it was. He stayed far enough away when he waved at him, politely saying "hey, Elias, how are you doing?"

Elias flinched, looking to Tyson for permission to speak, but he was given only a glance, and he was left confused and too scared to answer. Instead he just nodded his head once as a response. He looked down to see his knees were visibly wobbling, he didn't realize he was also squeezing his hands into tight fists at his sides. He couldn't force himself to relax, even though he wanted to, the molly in his system felt like metal in his veins, forcing him rigid and stiff.

Tyson quickly realized that Elias was more overwhelmed than he had hoped for, that all of his promises that he would be ok and he was sure they could come were quickly falling apart. He was standing so straight, like he'd collapse in on himself if he let his muscles relax at all. His legs were shaking with the effort of standing, Tyson wanted to scoop him up and hold him close to his chest, take away the strain of being upright, relieve him in any way he could.

"How are you settling in, pal?" Leo asked him, watching his head drop down instantly as he was addressed. He inched toward Tyson just a little, glancing up at him yet again. This time, Tyson caught his eye and realized what the look was about.

"It's ok," he whispered, rubbing his shoulder gently to reassure him, "it's alright, Eli, you can talk to them."

Elias was thankful for the permission to speak, he wanted to interact with them so bad he was buzzing, he wanted to speak to them and be heard and acknowledged. It had been so long since he'd been around people who understood him, who he could have conversation with. He worried for a split second that he might've forgotten how. "It's different. France is very different."

Leo chuckled at that, nodding his head. "Yeah, I would imagine. It's beautiful though, I hear."

Elias nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, the beach is my favorite."

Tyson was smiling at him, at how eager he was to speak, how even though he had been through hell there, he still found something beautiful in it. Elias had been trapped with August and made to do awful things that Tyson wasn't even sure the extent of yet, and still he had picked out a favorite place.

"Well I hope you didn't get too used to the food there, cause you'll have to deal with my cooking tonight." He smiled teasingly, and once Elias heard Tyson laughing, he realized it was a joke. Someone was joking with him, like an actual person. He smiled brightly at him, shaking his head.

He didn't have a response though, smiling at him seemed to be enough. Leo followed Tyson into the kitchen, leaving Allen and Elias to be alone in the living room. Allen had sat down on the couch, and Elias occasionally looked up from his spot in the center of the room, wondering if he was supposed to follow Ty. It seemed too late now, and besides, he knew in the back of his mind that he belonged here, to be observed as a centerpiece, touched if anyone felt the need for it. He wondered if, he hoped that, Allen felt the need for it. Or anyone at all, really.

"Wanna come sit with me, Elias?" Allen checked suddenly, watching as Elias straightened up to look at him, eyes wide. He quickly nodded before stumbling over to the couch, hesitating a moment before sinking down to the floor on his knees. Allen looked rather bewildered at the motion, his face flushed and mouth parted in surprise. The movement was familiar to Allen (August was consistent, he'd give him that), but it was shocking to see it from this perspective, made him want to push Elias out of the way and take his place. It took him a good thirty seconds to gather his thoughts, and when he did he felt sick to his stomach as he looked into Elias's fearful puppy dog eyes. "Oh...you don't have to..." He started to choke out.

Tyson froze when he came into the living room to see Elias like that, down on his knees with his head bowed pathetically, right in front of a flustered, uneasy looking Allen. They'd only been gone for five minutes, what had caused this? He may have grabbed Elias's shoulders a little too hard when he hoisted him back upright, causing a confused mewl to escape his throat.

"Don't sit down there like that, Eli," he scolded, "you sit on the couch, like everyone else."

"B...but I..." Elias shook his head in weak protest before shutting himself up, cringing at the stern look on Tyson's face. He was frustrated, if they wanted him on the couch why didn't they say so? Why did they want to confuse him so much? Was it to make him fail, make him easier to punish?

Tyson nodded at him once, turning and making his way reluctantly back to the kitchen. Elias huffed to himself, his shoulders drooping sadly.

"Hey," Allen said softly, grabbing his thigh gently, "it's ok. I remember when I got back I didn't use furniture for weeks. Tyson knows better now, he won't let you do that."

Elias looked at the hand on his leg. Thank God, he thought. He smiled softly at Allen, nodding along to his voice. So that was it, then, Tyson wanted him on the couch. He could look pretty on the couch, August sometimes enjoyed that.

"I know Tyson can get a little...upset, sometimes, but he means well. He just gets discouraged when he can't help."

Elias nodded eagerly again, eyes still on Allen's hand on him. Was his hand tight, or was he just imagining it? It was warm, it fit comfortably around him, and Elias found himself leaning against his arm in response to it. "Thank you," he whispered, "you've always been so kind to me."

"Well of course. What you're going through it's...well, kindness is definitely something you could use right now." Allen was smiling at him, in a way that no one had smiled at him in a long time. It was pure and friendly, not malicious or dangerous or full of lust. It was foreign, it made his chest feel hollow and sad. He didn't deserve to be looked at with such fondness. He would have ran and hid, if the smile didn't also make him feel so nice and warm all over. That made him even more upset, he didn't want to like it, not when he wasn't supposed to be receiving it in the first place. That was like enjoying a gift that had someone else's name on it, and he felt guilty for it.

Allen must've noticed his anxiety, and he pulled his hand away slowly, fingers slipping off his leg one at a time. Elias looked away from him entirely. He wanted to be back on the floor, he wanted his collar, he wanted to be hurt or touched, he wanted to be higher than he was. Most of all, he wanted to know what the hell everyone around here was expecting of him. August had rules, and even outside of those rules, Elias had gotten pretty good at reading his body language so he could guess what August wanted from him. Here was so different, he didn't know what was and wasn't allowed, he didn't know what Allen wanted from him when he grabbed his leg, or what Tyson wanted when he randomly left the room without a word to him. It was all so jumbled, made Elias feel so lost. The molly made it easier for Elias to speak, to listen, but he was still miserable and confused.

"What's wrong, Elias?" Allen asked in a hushed voice, like their conversation was ultra secret, like Leo and Tyson weren't allowed to know that it was taking place.

"It's just hard." He whispered back, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "I don't know what anyone wants anymore. When I try to guess I just look fu-fucking stupid. It's confusing."

"Have you tried asking?"

Elias gawked up at him, like the idea was bizarre. "Asking...?"

"Yeah. If you're not sure, just ask." He said this like it was simple, it couldn't go wrong. "Try it, ask me what I want."

Elias blinked at him, clearly bewildered. "Uh...wh-what do you...want?"

Allen smiled at him, nodding approvingly. "Right now, I want to sit on the couch and talk to you, and I also want dinner, but I'm waiting for it to be finished."

"O...oh." Elias breathed, looking back down at his hands. He guessed that was easy enough, the world didn't crumble around him. He couldn't hide his amazement, he couldn't believe Allen could easily say he wanted things, he must've not been taught that it was against the rules. Or maybe it was just something he outgrew, once he was away from August. Elias didn't think he'd ever outgrow it.

"What about you? What do you want?"

The confused, almost mangled, whimper Elias let out was telling enough, Allen wasn't supposed to ask him that. He was only just now realizing that it was ok to ask others that question, he obviously wasn't ready to answer it.

"Oh I don't... I c-cant..." He stammered, shaking his head vigorously. This was a test, one he could pass. He knew better than to say he wanted anything, he'd been proving that since he came back. He remembered when he accidentally begged Tyson to touch him, using the word 'need'. He must've told Allen, and now Allen was trying to get him to slip up again. He wouldn't, he would be good. He could be a mindless pet with no wants or needs.

"It's ok," Allen reassured him, his hand was on his thigh again, this time a little higher, "you don't have to answer. I get it."

Elias was breathless, he couldn't tell if it was from the question or Allen touching him, but he couldn't seem to breathe deep enough. He couldn't have wants, but still, the warm palm on his leg was enough to make him tremble. If he were allowed to want, he would want someone to lay him down and touch him everywhere, make him feel good because he hadn't felt good in so long, stroke his hair, call him 'good pet', call him 'bunny', tell him he was beautiful and perfect. If he were allowed to want, he would want that so bad it would make him cry.

"Shit, Elias, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Allen was rushing. Elias's cheeks were wet with his tears, his face was blank and sheet white. Tyson must've heard the commotion, and it wasn't long before he was in front of him, kneeling down to be at his level.

"Hey, Eli, what's going on, love?" He asked him gently, his hands on his shoulders. They weren't grabbing him as tightly now as when he put him on the couch. "Why are you crying?"

Elias wiped his face, shaking his head quickly. "I'm s-sorry!" He whined. "I don't know I j...just..."

Tyson shook his head dismissively, pulling Elias against his chest and rubbing his back. "It's ok. Everything's ok." Tyson held him close as his shoulders shook, allowing him to tire himself out a little. Once he seemed calm, Tyson pulled away from him, stroking his cheek gently as he did. At some point Allen had gotten up and left them alone in the room together, and Elias couldn't help but feel a little relaxed that he wasn't around to watch him fuck up any more. "You alright?"

Elias nodded, sniffling miserably. "I'm sorry."

"No worries, love. Go ahead and get cleaned up, dinner's done."

Elias obeyed instantly, standing up and heading to the bathroom wordlessly. He looked so rough around the edges, washed out from crying and in desperate need of an actual good nights sleep. He debated skipping dinner and going to lie down instead, but then he remembered how much he ached to talk to everyone, be around them, so he changed his mind. He never again wanted to be alone in a separate room when there were people around, it wasn't ever an enjoyable experience. Once he was decidedly more put together, he joined everyone back in the kitchen, setting himself in a chair between Tyson and Leo, mouth glued shut and eyes focused on the plate of food in front of him.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Here’s a sickfic I might finish but I should probably just post here now in case I never do

Uhhhhhh cw nausea and vomiting mention

I’m gonna @celosiaa because you are the only reason I am posting this at all.  And maybe you can nudge me to finish this at some point.  

Jon isn’t sure where he thought he’d wake up.  Possibly at his desk?  Or in his bed?  (Unlikely).  Does he even still have a bed?  The institute floor if he was unlucky?  The break room couch or the cot if he was considerably more lucky.  The point is, he feels like shit and he didn’t remember going to sleep.  Which probably wasn’t a good sign.  He lets himself drift for a while longer.  

Jon wakes in fits and starts.  

One moment he’s mostly aware the next he’s snapping back awake thus leading him to the conclusion that he wasn’t before.  A cycle that he is stuck in for several minutes.  He is not aware enough to properly examine where he might actually be.  

He’s too dizzy to think and his eyes feel gummy and puffy, and everything hurts.  

Sick?  Is he sick?  Not statement sick, but properly sick?  

Yes that tracks.  Sore throat.  Queasy.  Headache.  

Ugh.  

He lays there for a while longer.  And promptly drops back off.  

~~~~~~~

Jon stirs in Tim’s lap.  Be blinks a  few times and groans.  Jon has been all but passed out in Tim’s lap for hours.  

He isn’t even sure why he bothered.  

Tim sighs.  He knows Jon is awake now, and he very much needs Jon to have some liquids.  And some fever reducers.  “Jon?”  He asks softly.  He doesn’t want to frighten Jon.  

Jon’s shaky breathing catches in what Tim very much fears is a sob.  What the hell is he supposed to say to a crying Jon?  “Tim?”  Jon’s response is quavering and damp.  He still hasn’t really moved.  Tim is more than a little worried that Jon doesn’t seem to have the energy to even shift position.  

“Back with me?”  Christ, Tim hopes Jon is.  

Jon spent most of the car ride to Tim’s flat crying, apologizing, gibbering about god knows what, and looking more than a little like he was going to be very ill (something Tim would have worried about if he wasn’t reasonably sure Jon had already expelled everything in him before Tim managed to half carry him out of the Archives).  (He debated A&E, but ultimately decided Jon might accidentally compel the staff and cause a lot of problems.  But if Tim couldn’t get his fever down, or get him to keep down liquids, then he’d take him in.)  Tim tried to find it irritating, but honestly it had just made his heart hurt.  

Jon just whimpers.  

Tim gently cards his fingers through Jon’s hair.  Jon shivers a little.  This flu has been going around the Archives but even though Jon has been the last to catch it, he seems to have it the worst.  Tim doesn’t think he was ever this far gone.  (Martin would probably be the one here if he wasn’t still sleeping off the last of his fight with this.)

Jon blinks a few more times, swallows drily, and asks, “Tim….?  Wha’ you doing?  Thought you were out today?”

“First day back.  Found you passed out in the loo.”  Tim hasn’t decided if he wants to be nice.  (A bit late to not be, considering he drove Jon to his (Tim’s) flat and is letting Jon cuddle him even though Jon is kind of disgusting at this point and is going to share the leftovers of the soup and medicine and lucozade he stocked up on the moment he knew he was coming down with something.)

Jon squirms a bit so he’s looking up at Tim.  His face going from confusion, to embarrassment, to dawning realization when he (presumably) he notices he’s partially in Tim’s lap.  “You hate me.”  It’s a question, but not a question of if Tim hates him.  

Jon’s slurring.  Which can’t possibly be good.  Tim takes in his puzzled look and takes that to mean ‘Hey Tim, I’m too much of an arsehole to thank you for letting me use you as a well toned body pillow let’s jump right into the boo hoo I’m a victim of the universe and I’ll take everyone down with me and I know this so why could someone I’ve so terribly wronged be being nice to me.’  No.  That’s not right.  And that’s not fair.  Tim does want to blame Jon for everything.  But that would make him a hypocrite.  Sure Tim didn’t stalk his coworkers after the Prentiss thing, but where Jon got paranoid, he got angry.  They both pushed each other away.  Not to mention…. he did accuse Jon of murder…. which is what he was angry at Jon for accusing him of…. It is Jon’s fault that he is stuck in the archives, but Jon’s just as stuck as he is.  And it’s not Jon’s fault that Sasha...  He’s not a heartless dick, he couldn’t just leave Jon to possibly drown himself in the toilet.  

“Debatable.”  Tim can’t really explain it any better than that for now.  He blames Jon, yeah.  Sure.  Easy.  Of course he blames Jon.  …But he knows it isn’t Jon’s fault, and as much as he wants to forget that.  He can’t.  And he can’t forget the years of friendship before all this.  Maybe they weren’t as close as he presumes he and Sasha were… but they were close.  

Jon looks even more confused.  And then he looks rather nauseous.  He closes his eyes again.  

“I need you to drink something before you pass out again.”  He should probably try to be nicer, because Jon flinches at his tone, and tries to make himself even smaller.  

This isn’t news.  Jon has flinched because of Tim a lot.  He knows he shouldn’t be proud of this, but he is.  

“And don’t puke on my couch.”

Jon just whines.  

Tim gets impatient and mostly carefully leavers Jon up enough that he can press a  Lucozade into his hands.  

Jon’s eyes flick open slowly.  He blinks a few times as he tries to comprehend what he’s holding.  

“You’re supposed to drink that,” Tim says helpfully.  

“Thought you wanted me not to puke.”

Tim is reasonable sure that was supposed to be a joke, but Jon’s eyes squeeze tight against dizziness, so Tim nudges the bin he preset nearer.  

“Drink the goddamn thing or I’ll have to take you to A&E and I’ll really be fucking pissed.”  There isn’t any real heat to Tim’s words.  But that doesn’t stop Jon for fumbling with the lid.  

Christ he looks so pathetic.  His hands are shaking almost too badly to get it to his mouth and he would not be vertical if Tim let go.  And sad.  Was he just stuck with those damn puppy dog eyes?  

But could Tim really blame him?  Enough people have kicked the shit out of Jon that he really can’t blame Jon for looking like a kicked puppy.  

Jon drinks cautiously.  He looks mildly surprised when nothing bad happens.  

Tim props him up against the back of the couch so he can pass Jon some more fever reducers.  Jon carefully takes those as well.  He shakily closes the still half full sports drink and closes his eyes again.  He’s listing sideways.   

It’s dark out when Jon wakes up again. He can’t quite recall what time of day it was when he was last conscious.  He thinks he might be slightly more aware.  Possibly.  

He’s still shivering and he still feels like death.  Grand.  

Something shifts under him and he starts.  

Oh.  Right.  Tim.  

“Jon, you awake?”

Since when does Tim talk to him like a person?  Like he hadn’t fucked up that badly.  

“Jon?”

Right.  Yes.  He’s supposed to answer.  He swallows.  His throat feels like sandpaper.  “Ngk.”  Well.  Not quite a word, but close enough, right?  It is enough to start him coughing in any case.

“Jesus Christ, Jon!”

Jon is hoisted into a sitting position fast enough to make his head swim.  He closes his eyes tightly to try to stop the room from spinning, but he’s still coughing and now he’s queasy again.  

By the time he catches his breath, tears are streaming down his face and he can feel someone (Tim) rubbing his back.  It feels…. Jon isn’t sure how it feels, but a lot and it makes his skin prickle not unpleasantly.  

“Jesus Fuck Jon.”

Jon doesn’t have the air to answer.  He feels himself sway.  He is lowered back down and a straw pushed into his mouth.  He cracks one eye open and sees a very blurry Tim (shit where have his glasses gone?) holding the same sports drink, this time with an addition of a .... is that a margarita straw?   The Eye helpfully informs him that it is.  Jon takes some careful sips until his throat feels a little less awful.  

He can see Tim’s mouth moving.   He hears his voice but he’s a little too far gone to make out words.   

Tim has been keeping up what he hopes is comforting, soothing one sided conversation.  He hopes.  He hopes it might help Jon, but Jon seems pretty far from aware right right now.  

“You’d probably rather have water or tea right now but I’m not Martin, and well... I think you need the salt and sugar...”

Jon only manages a few sips before the straw drops from his mouth.   

“Come on, Jon.  There’s no way you aren’t dehydrated.  I don’t want to take you to A&E.  You don’t want to go to A&E.  You really don’t want me to take you to A&E.”

“Sorry...”. Christ his voice is weak.  

“Stop apologizing.  You have done that to death today.  Maybe try again when you’re conscious.  Maybe I’ll even accept it.”

“Sorry.”

Tim sighs.  Obviously that’s not going to get through to Jon right now.  “Come on.  You’ve got to drink more.  You lost a fuck ton of liquids.  I know you did.  You haven’t even begun to make up for that.”

Jon whines.  Tim checks once again that there’s a bin within easy reach.  He still presses the straw to Jon’s mouth.  

Jon drinks.  

It takes a painfully long time, but he keeps it down.  Tim waits a wile to make sure that continues to be the case before he nudges Jon.  “You up for some soup?”  

Jon considers for a very long moment.  He’s having trouble concentrating on the question and honestly he’s hoping Tim will come up with an answer for him.  

“Jon?”  

“Maybe?”  It’s hardly a whisper.  

“Let’s try sitting you up first, okay?”

[ywhiterain]

The Originals Did Fine Without Klaroline

You might be saying, WR, give @candyumbrella a rest and finish up your InoSaku or other lady centered meta that’s been requested. But. No.

Also. This is way more fun than reading about eating disorders for grad school.

First, here’s a claim: 

So TO wasn’t created out of love for Klaus, really it was created FOR STEFAN at Klaus’s EXPENSE. Here’s the thing. This is a wilddddd as fuck claim. My personal interpretation is that The Originals was created because TVD was pretty successful for a CW show and The Original family was quite popular so Plec was like ‘Hey, execs, let’s expand our universe a la Arrow’ and considering that Arrow/Flash/Supergirl/Legends are all doing pretty well the execs were like ‘let’s give it a go’.

Evidence: there is money in expanded universes. See: DCU and MCU. $$$. Also, Universal. Arrowverse is doing pretty well, for the CW. 

I could probably go further and look around and see what was officially said and done during the time. But I’m much too lazy and this is the least interesting part of her argument for me. I only bring it up to showcase how badly @candyumbrella makes her point. She simply claims that The Originals was made at Klaus’ expense because that matches her theory. But Ted Structure isn’t commonly accepted theory like Three Act Structure. For more on theory in fiction, watch Lindsay Ellis argue the power inherit in the three act structure for studying film. 

For a theory as flimsy as the Ted Structure, she’s gonna need to do more groundwork than she’s done. I’m going to take her post, here if you want to read it, in order to explain why I think her argument as it stands is flimsy. Also, misogynistic. 

To be clear: I’m not saying any of this was CONSCIOUS for Plec. I don’t think it was, at all.  This is a neat trick on Candy’s part. You see, it’s really hard to argue about the unconscious. No one can completely discard everything Freud said - because how the fuck can disprove the psychosexual stages of development? It’s really hard to figure out what’s going on in an infant’s brain and to figure out how that impacts mental health in adulthood. We haven’t really figured that out yet. What current psychologists do, instead, is attempt to create a theory using something that is falsifiable. A hypothesis. Then this hypothesis is put into a larger framework. 

Example: thoughts, feelings, and behaviors inform and influence one another is a theory in cognitive psychology. A hypothesis to test this theory is to set up an experiment where a group of people have their automatic thoughts (def: does what it does in the tin) through Socratic questioning over the course of a month or so and another group of people not go through the Socratic questioning. Do a pre-test/post test scale measuring people’s self esteem. If those in the Socratic group have more self esteem, it supports the underlining theory that guides all of cognitive psychology.

Here’s what it doesn’t do: prove that the cognitive view of psychology is correct. Contemporary social science proves nothing. We create theories with evidence. What we know now will likely be proven incomplete, as history has shown (example: Newton’s Laws have been modified by Einstein’s work).

Why a I getting into theory about psychology? Because that’s Candy’s trick. We can’t prove or disprove what Plec’s unconscious motives are. If she said that Plec created The Originals to prop up Stefan than disproving that would be easy: just ask why Plec developed The Originals. 

Unconsciousness, and by that Candy means implicate bias, is really tricky to study. It’s there. We can, say, conduct a study’s looking at how people of color and women are perceived and treated in an experimental study. But our conclusions are going to be more general like: people do perceive Black faces as more threatening than White ones using this criteria. We’re no going to be able to say exactly how or why this happens except in context of broader theory developed by the likes of bell hooks. 

In short: creating academic theory to explain a phenomena is a lot of work. And Candy isn’t even doing the really easy shit like I did in the beginning of this post.

Stefan’s endgame shows she’d gone off him by the end of TVD, but this was years before that, when he was still fundamentally her highest priority. Stefan saved the world. He got to molest Elena’s hair. Lexi was waiting for him after death. The very last scene is him finally getting his beloved big brother to come home to him and hug him. I think that’s a pretty neat ending for a secondary main character. 

Do you agree with my interpretation? Maybe. Maybe not. But my subjective interpretation demolishes her argument because my view of the ending supports that Plec loved Stefan and gave him a hero’s ending. In order to account for my interpretation of her Universal Theory of TV, Candy’s gotta account for it somehow.

And the block to admitting Caroline as Klaus’s Robin was rooted in respect for Stefan’s opinion and values, and resistance to Klaus’s values superseding them in any way.  Tell me, again, how TVD bends to Klaus’ point of view?

They went for Klayley first, but then backed off and kept it platonic.  It was a one night stand between two people who didn’t really like each other but had fun bantering. It produced a baby. Klaus and Hayley then spent four seasons getting to know each other, learning to care about each other, and learning how to parent Hope properly. Klaus and Hayley’s parents failed them, they are doing their damnest no to fail Hope. That is Klaus and Hayley’s story. Don’t agree? Tell me why. Use the text to argue, like this:

3x01, Hayley is cured from the curse Klaus put her under. For three months, Hayley wasn’t able to be with her daughter. Klaus put his need for revenge over Hope’s need for her mother. Hayley is enraged - not just because she was cursed - but because Klaus betrayed the understanding they had: they would do better for Hope. She turns around, and sees Hope walking. She missed Hope’s first steps. Klaus took that from her. This scene showcases the themes of parenthood and trust that run between Hayley and Klaus’ story.

They tried Klamille but the Tobin-block of Klaroline made it lukewarm and unthreatening—it fails all the Tobin Rules—which is why so many people who resent KC are willing to co-ship Klamille, even if Cami isn’t their fave girl  Uh. Wow. No. I found Klaus/Cami serviceable enough but worried about Cami’s agency not being addressed as Klaus manipulated her and pushed her at Marcel. The turning point was Cami using the code she built with her dead twin brother to figure out how Klaus has been abusing her and frees herself. My favorite Klaus/Cami moment is when she’s trying to make the choice about becoming a vampire or not - she knew who she was as a human. She wasn’t sure who she would be as a vampire.

Look, the text failed Cami, I think, by killing her. But Cami consistently had moments of agency and her own story to tell. Her brother being cursed and murdered defined her professional choice to be a counselor - she wanted to help fix trauma. She wanted to fix herself and how much it hurt not to have her brother around. She was drawn to Klaus because she was drawn to toxic people. Her brother seemingly murdered innocent people for no reason, Klaus is a monster who murders people for the pettiest of reasons. Maybe she finding Klaus’ humanity will help her find her brother’s. It did. He was cursed against his will.

I liked this story. I feel like The Originals lost a lot when Cami died. Her knowledge and perspective about trauma added to a story that’s ultimately about generations of abuse. 

Not everyone had this reaction Many people hated Cami or didn’t care. But why is their reaction more important than mine in determining TV magic?

though legit the only block people have against KC is that it didn’t start in the pilot and they think Caroline is too ~lowly to be that important, LOL  Uh. No. I think Klaus’ random interest in Caroline was a knock on the writing of his character. Caroline’s beautiful reaction in season three WHAT THE FLYING FUCK was fantastic. I don’t think Klaus and Caroline were a bad ship because Klaus is too good for Caroline - I think it’s a badly constructed ship because I have no idea why the fuck either of them are drawn to each other. These days, I’ve developed a fond distaste for them because Klaus’ thirst has become hilarious to me. I’m here for Klaus crushing an indifferent Caroline. It’s not the story I wanted from them, but I’ll take what I can get.

My block for K/C is my feminism and taste for well narratives that work in context of the story being told. Caroline is way more important to me as a character than Klaus, who I only started liking as a character in his own right because of his fumbling love for Hope. I was here for Caroline with her tone deaf reaction to Elena’s grief in the pilot. She was a character who made an impression by her merits alone, and not because he was a threat to my favorite.

My personal interpenetration of Klaus and Caroline debunks Candy’s entire thesis of why some people are cold on the ship.

Consider what significance the ship must’ve had in the writing room—and how large it must’ve loomed over everyone there—that a writer would tweet something like this upon leaving the show. He’s finally ALLOWED to say he loves Klaroline. LBR they knew on some level it was the key. Plec just didn’t want it to be true, and she didn’t love Klaus enough to admit it.

Or his tweet about Klaus/Caroline was made in context of a light hearted letter. The use of hashtag here significance he was speaking in jest. He may be rooting for Klaus/Caroline - doesn’t mean he thinks he was seriously silenced.

And that’s why TO has faded so much over the years. Because it was a show that didn’t love its Ted ENOUGH  We’re getting another season. I just. What. Explain the metrics of fail/success please.

Even much the shipping for Klamille and Klayley is a reaction to Klaroline on some level–a huge chunk of it is “At least she’s not Caroline/At least she keeps Caroline from getting Klaus”

Naw. Before I was a full on shipper, I still appericated Klaus/Cami because there was effort. I got why Klaus was drawn to her and Cami him in the text (her way of thinking caught him by surprise and validated his humanity; she had a psychological need to see his humanity because of the circumstances surrounding the death of her brother) as opposed to my fanwank for Klaus/Caroline (she looks like Rebekah; her untreated trauma related to Damon makes it hard for her to separate abuse and love).

It’s what led to Jackson being killed off so early, whereas if the writers had felt him as a romantic foil for Klaus then that story would’ve gone on and on

Uh. The show I watched had a Jackson/Hayley/Elijah triangle. Klaus’ main reaction to it all was to tease Hayley about banging his big brother/wanting to see them both happy as they grew closer. Also Jackson helped protect his precious Hope.

It’s why TO has increasingly sacrificed Klaus and Marcel and Davina to the Original Family.  Which is why they had such a lovely reunion when Davina came back to life. OH WAIT.

CORRECT instincts in initially sidelining Bex and Elijah ASAP Claire Holt didn’t want to be a series regular. They still brought up Rebekah all the fucking time and brought up a body hopping plot. I would agree that Elijah’s arc was poor in season four - but I would argue that it was uneven or poor for everyone in in season four, save Vincent. My belief is being because the writers were trying to condense a 22 episode arc into half the time. But maybe them just not loving their Ted was the reason. You decide, audience of mine.

Bex and Elijah drag Klaus down because they’re dull, uninspired flops.

Elijah is the main reason Klaus wasn’t killed in season two because everyone loved Daniel’s portrayal. Elijah is a fan favorite. Rebekah leaving in the show was meet with a whole lot of sadness from my corner of fandom. Elijah and Rebekah are flops to Candy.  Not to everyone.

What’s the plot development that did let him disregard his siblings’s safety? The Krossover in S7. Because briefly, he got his Tobin back again.  The crossover, where Klaus showed that he’d grown beyond his selfish desire to have Stefan’s complete devotion and loyalty by a) saving Stefan’s life and getting his big sister to help, b) showing concern for his suicidal devotion to Damon, c) wishing him well. In response, Stefan helped save Klaus’ life and actually opened up to Klaus in a way we haven’t seen him do since the 20s by speaking openly about his feelings for Caroline. Look, Caroline and Klaus had a moment. I think it was pretty good. Because it built on the themes in Klaus’ character arc. Klaus got good moments with his vampire babes in Mystic Falls because he’d grown enough as a person to treat them as people instead of objects.

This is great news for Klaus/Caroline. But it was good for Klaus’s character and his relationship with Stefan too. Despite everything he put Stefan through, there was a sense that Stefan was warming back up to him.

Strategically speaking the wisest commercial decision for her would’ve been to concede Caroline to Klaus’s spinoff– The fuck does Caroline want with Klaus and the family who has terrorized her and the people she loves the most in world? Shoving Caroline onto The Originals just so Klaus could get the girl he wanted would be treating Caroline as a prop way more than we ever got in TVD.

Look at all the conversation around Gossip Girl, at the 10-year anniversary of its premiere. The main thing people remember about that show are Chuck/Blair and Dan being GG. What people remember about The Office is Jim and Pam. What people remember about Cheers is Sam and Diane.

What people remember about Buffy is that it was a breakout genres show embracing feminist themes. What people remember about Avatar is fantastic world building and characterization. What people remember about Xena is delightful camp and lesbian. What people remember about Dawson’s creek is Dawson’s cryface:

Gossip Girl is much derided, not because of endgames themselves, but abuse apology, a plot twist so bad it’s hilarious, misogyny in general. 

Plec could’ve had one show driven by a Humanity Tobin and another driven by Vampire Tobin, done and done

Except, the story that Plec wanted to tell was about Klaus and the Original Family. And that’s no crime. Five seasons for a spin off show on the CW is a pretty good mark of success in my opinion.

[2fast2furiousofficial]

cw: ??? Paranoia, parents, down talk, uh suicide and death comes up, it’s A Lot? Oh specific mention of Cancer. I’m suddenly exhausted and struggling to tag. Also, typos. Read this @ ur own risk, there’s a disclaimer inside re: that and if you mention this post to me I’ll be upset. Especially as I’m going to try and forget I made myself internet-vulnerable by posting it. G’night tumblr.

My like, negative monologue and paranoia found their way back to me with strenght instead of being mostly hushed whispers instead of weird moments or almost more like, speaking in faint images, vague feelings - they weren’t real and sharp and present and it’s been to the point where until recently with the flare up i was pretty soundly thinking some of my diagnosis must be wrong or i was weirdly in super recovery, and if everything felt like, still off, weird? That’s just real life? If BPD like goes away, somehow, magically, I would just feel less.

Everything would be. Less.

Also it’s just weird because I’m comparing all my friendships and shit to my ex who was my FP and close friend and then gf and then ex but like keyword in some of that if FP so everything was more constant and intense so no wonder other friendships don’t match it, fuck, will other romantic relationships?

Like I’m still not bothered too much, I am ultimately okay with being single I think but also like.

I dunno!

But like friends. friends friends friends.

I’m struggling what to do with any of all of them and if you’re a friend I talk to with any goddamn regularity see your way out of this tumblr post. Or like proceed at ur own risk I’m not trying to @ any of y’all I’m just like. verbalizing (textualizing? sure. whatever!) my paranoia and struggles in Friendship TM rn so like please either don’t read this or don’t make it weird because it’s not you it’s me 

God god like i I just can’t find the fucking balance and I think it’s partly because I am constantly bouncing between trying to invest more (too much) into friendships or isolating, or not having the energy, or trying to do both, or all three, I need so badly to be liked but also why thr fuck do you all like me

I’m fake, I’ve got so much imposter syndrome I can’t fucking see straight. Some of my friends think I’m cool and kind of goth??? Think I don’t like people (oh shit), that I’m like, tough, but I’m a fucking goddamn powder puff who is constantly on the verge or crying or emptiness or undesired anger which i then feel guilty about and channel into anger at myself. I hate myself so much that it’s normal, that until something pushes it it can kind of just become background noise and isn’t that sad? Isn’t that sad. I act and say that I don’t, insist I’m cooler and better and sometimes think I do but it’s because I feel so goddamn bad about myself but I know that won’t make me more likeable, saying it won’t make things good, just makes things back and awkward so I have to like fumbling try and like myself or at least fake it.

I’m not cool. I’m fat and ugly and broke and can’t keep a job or do anything right or get my shit together even if i’m goddamn trying.

I try and forget my mother so that missing her will stop. I can’t miss her if I forget her. She won’t exist to forget. I won’t think about her, so I won’t have to miss her, even if every fucking cell in my body carries her, from her genetics and everything that entails (death, mostly, likely from colon cancer) to her finger prints on my brain neurons (my mental illnesses aren’t something to lay at her grave and blame her for but her finger prints and markers are in all of them, I am my mother in so many ways I hoped I wouldn’t be).

I try and forget my father so I won’t miss him either. He’s just a disappointment or a hurt when he’s around, just something else to feel bad about (I can’t make him happy, i’m too gay, too fat, too much like my mother, too much like the sister he’s always abused and treated wrong). He’s not worth the energy.

I try to just... put on a face and exist minimally around my family because they aren’t perfect but they try and do a lot and I love them and I will never be truly one of my aunt and uncles children, a sibling to my cousins, my uncle won’t just give me casual affectionate contact and i’m too hold and don’t have the history to crawl into my aunts bed and just cry with her about how awful and broken I feel and they love me so much even if I’m not quite these things so why isn’t it fucking enough?

my ex is an essay i don’t want to do because every time i fucking reach some further progress and closure i lose it and I hate it, I hate it, I hate how part of me still aches and misses her but do I miss her or just the idea of her, what she represented?

That someone could love me, that someone could get me?

But like. Ha, the more you know me, the less you know me, right?

I think it’s a lot like that.

Everyone leaves eventually.

Like my friends, fuck, like everyone is good and fine and I’m the goddamn problem ultimately?

Because my brain just cooks shit up like

Don’t respond to them.

? I’m tired so I will later but-

Don’t, all they do is x. They only talk to you about x. When have they talked to you about anything else, they don’t deserve you, they only want want you can do for them and don’t actually care about you, fuck them, fuck this, this always happens--

or well shit you can be more attentive and still just get same shit different angle,

You now y is just using you to ease their own loneliness and depression.

I am 99% that’s like most human interaction, we’re all supposed to try and help one another-

They don’t actually LIKE you, not really, they don’t know you and how garbage you really are. They wouldn’t like that Logan. They’ll go when you stop being useful, stop being enough, the first time you mess up, and you will, you try so hard, so goddamn hard but you will

I want someone to like the garbage parts of me but also I don’t, because, I can’t even like those parts, why the fuck should they, why, why, people will go if I show those parts or want me to change them and I want to change them too but also some shit doesn’t change and some shit is just me, maybe some of this isn’t just garabage or stuff to learn or unlearn, some part sof me just suck, though who even knows which ones, which parts are real, because i’m so fucking fake you can poke holes through me, at least half of my happiness is even fake but if I don’t at least try and fake it it won’t exist and people won’t want tp interact and i’ll be a drain and i can’t have that, I can’t stand owing people or being a burden even if that’s all I ever do, i don’t understand human interaction and friendships and i hate how i can’t disappear - a few weeks or months - and come back without it being a thing, but also i want people to worry, not to Worry but to give a shit but also WHY SHOULD THEY and I expend all this energy on friendships but sometimes I’m not sure why, if i even want them, but i also know i need friends and like friends and am a friendly person and just

i hate. this. Being so many different pieces and conflicting feelins and reactions and i just want to start over. I want to die and have another playthrough. I want to run away and cut ties with everyone and just... live a different life.

Guess I’m actively suicidal again for the first time in awhile. That’s sort of new.

I think I’m finally tired. I’m... going to post this and try and forget I did.

It will feel like too much of a backstep to just delete it, but I can’t edit this either.

if you read this: none of this is @ or about you, again, this is my bullshit brain and me struggling. You’re good friends, some of you are even wonderful friends, I do. Love you. As much as I can love anyone. Which is a lot sometimes, and other times it’s.

Not? I dunno. I’m broken, I don’t know what to tell you.

Also like don’t talk to me about it because I can’t handle that and will very seriously get mad. 

i’m going to sleep.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 22 "It Takes A Village"

CW: whump aftermath, discussion of past abuse, past noncon, panic attack, starvation/whumpee not being allowed to eat, dehumanization, tourrettes/ticcing, death mention, slightly clueless caretaker, whumpee mistaking friendliness for intimacy, drugs/alcohol (let me know if I missed anything!)

Tyson looked annoyed with Elias by the end of the meal. He sighed heavily when he saw that Elias hadn't touched his food, glanced over at him disdainfully as he took his plate away and brought it to the kitchen. Elias could've crumbled at that. He knew he wasn't supposed to eat, especially not at the table with others. August had gotten so mad at him for thinking he was worthy of that, made sure that when he ate it was only when August forced him to, and when he was on the cold basement floor, so hungry he thought he would die. Elias couldn't remember when or why that began, just like with all of the other twisted rules, he just knew that it was better to just obey, to do whatever August wanted so that there wouldn't be any added, unnecessary pain for being bad. He learned quickly that submitting to the torture at the beginning was so much easier than fighting against it and suffering through the originally planned pain plus whatever August saw as a just punishment for his disobedience.

So the entire dinner he thought he was doing good, being so quiet and only speaking when he was asked to and not touching the food that he wasn't deserving of and sitting pretty. It's not that he didn't know he was with Tyson, it had just become so normal to him that he really couldn't imagine doing anything else, even though it caused him tremendous turmoil. And then, after all that effort, Tyson still looked at him like he was pathetic and upsetting.

Allen must've picked up on his anxiety, because he stood up from the table and tapped Elias's shoulder in the least invasive way he could. "I'm going to have a cigarette, would you like to join me?"

Elias took a shaking breath of relief, nodding his head. He followed Allen outside to the porch, watched as he sank down into a chair. He wished so badly he was allowed to kneel here, it would give him some sense of normalcy. Instead he opted for standing a good distance away from Allen, only stepping forward a bit to grab the cigarette offered to him. His teeth were chattering, he wasn't sure if he was shivering because of the cold or his anxiety, but it made him fumble with the lighter for a few seconds. When his frail, trembling fingers wouldn't light it, he let out a hopeless, defeated whine.

"Here, let me help, love," Allen offered, standing up and taking the lighter from him. Elias couldn't help but stare wide eyed at him as he lit up for him, both of their faces glowing an orange hue from the small flame.

"Uh...thank you," he whispered after a drag. Allen was still standing up with him, smoking his own cigarette and looking past him, at the window. Elias was trying to figure out if he was standing so close because he wanted something, or if he just happened to be less than a foot away. He wondered if he was imagining the fond look on his face when he took the lighter from him, if Allen called him "love" in a friendly way or if it was affection. It made his chest fluttery to think about, and he was confused at the tears in his eyes.

"You alright, Elias?" Allen asked softly. "You're shaking. What's up, pal?"

Elias looked up at him, ticcing as he tried to hold eye contact. "C...can I ask you again?" He whimpered.

Allen seemed to know immediately what he was referring to, and he nodded at him with a pleased, possibly proud, grin.

"What do you want?" This time it came out a little more sure, less broken, than the first time, and Allen's face softened into a smile, one that Elias had seen on people right before they praised him. His lips curled up in the same way other's usually did before they would say "Good boy," or "tres bien". Elias felt a small weight lift from his shoulders, he'd finally done something right!

"I'm happy just smoking and hanging out with you. That's what I want."

Elias felt his face flush, an incredibly grateful, almost elated, smile on his face. Someone was happy just to hang out with him. Happy. "Ok. Thank you."

Allen debated asking if Elias wanted anything, but he was sure it would be just as bad as the first time, tears and trembling and the works. So instead he reached out and playfully ruffled Elias's hair just a little. Elias flinched at the movement initially, but then he was quick to correct himself and instead pressed against the hand in his hair eagerly. He was smiling softly at the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

Allen couldn't help but wonder if this was how he had been when he finally escaped August, if he was so broken he just went weak at simple, friendly touches. Surely not, Leo was adamant right from the beginning with giving him all the physical attention he needed, and Allen didn't feel so desperate for gentle touch once he was back in Leo's arms. Then again, he wasn't in August's claws for 10 months. He felt a horrible, gnawing sympathy in his chest when he thought of the toll that would take, 10 months of punishment, of being toyed with physically and mentally, treated like nothing, less than nothing.

He took a half step forward, dropping his hand from Elias's head to the nape of his neck. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," he muttered, "I know h-how awful August can be, I'm sorry."

Elias tensed up at the name, pulling the cigarette close to his body, as if he thought the tiny cherry glowing orange at the end would warm him up. "I don't...I don't understand how you can be so normal now. I feel utterly ruined." As he spoke, he couldn't help but lean toward Allen more, the hand on his shoulder keeping him steady. "I feel like I don't even remember who I was before."

Allen shook his head, then, with a bit of hesitation, he pulled Elias close against his chest to comfort him. "I know it seems really hard right now, but it will heal. I promise."

Elias found himself sinking into his arms, melting completely against Allen's body, closing his eyes tightly. He was overwhelmed by the kindness Allen was showing him, how gentle and pleasant he was being. He couldn't get close enough to him, couldn't bury himself deep into his touch enough to really be satisfied, he needed more and more and more, he needed pressure and warmth and suffocating, constant touch, and he was slightly ashamed at the desperate whine that he let out when he realized he might never get that, might never be satisfied.

"You're ok," Allen said in response, "I've got you, Eli. It's ok." He stroked his hair back gently, felt the way he was trembling underneath him. So fragile, breakable, and yet his fingers were tightly grabbing his shirt, aching to be closer.

"It's s-so hard...I c...can't..."

"Shh, Elias. Just breathe, no one's gonna let anything happen to you." He held him close, rocking him side to side, refusing to be the first person to let go. Elias needed this, he could feel it in the way he pushed into him, hear it in his broken, watery voice.

The door opened behind them, and Elias flinched away from Allen like he knew he wasn't supposed to be that close. He looked up at Tyson, his hands shaking and his face pale. "I...we were just-"

"It's ok, love. I was just checking on you." He looked them both over, could see the obvious exhaustion on Allen's face. Tyson often felt bad for sticking them in the same room together, was worried that seeing Elias so familiarly damaged would set Allen off again, would make him lose all the progress he'd been working so hard on. "We were gonna settle down inside. Wanna come?"

Elias instantly agreed, of course, reaching forward to grab Tyson's wrist, like he was afraid he would get lost if he wasn't holding onto someone. Allen followed close behind, collapsing on the couch next to Leo as he came in. His body felt heavy with pity for Elias, especially when his tiny voice asked Tyson if it was ok for him to use the restroom. If it was ok. He had to bite back a groan at how pathetic that was.

"You alright?" Leo asked him, hand on his knee. It was times like this that reminded him how lucky he was to be with Leo; the psychiatrist in him always picked up on when something was wrong, when things were taking a toll on Allen, so he never had to mention it on his own.

"I'm worried about him," he admitted, "I mean, you saw him, the poor kid is...broken." He shook his head sadly, and Leo let out a soft sigh. He didn't protest though, because Allen was right. Tyson began to chew on his lip nervously. "I'm more worried August might come back." This time when he spoke, he dropped his voice to a low mumble. Both Leo and Tyson tensed incredibly at the idea, but no one objected.

"You don't really think that...?" Tyson finally said, shaking his head. His voice was on the edge of begging, pleading for Allen to take the words back.

"I-I mean, how many times did I end up back with him? How many times did we think it was over and he just kept coming back?" His voice was nervous, but he was able to cover it for the most part with his genuine concern. "And he was ballsy enough to come back after killing him, then took him out of the fucking country for almost a year-"

Elias couldn't hold himself up on his own, he had collapsed against the wall with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. August was coming back? Elias would be so easy to find, in the same place as last time. Suddenly he couldn't swallow, his throat felt constricted and dry. He could only think, as their conversation continued with how likely August was to return, was, oh god he's going to kill me! I ran away, I've been gone for so long, he's going to be so angry! Until he couldn't hear anything else, not even Tyson's voice as he stood in front of him, asking him if he was ok. He finally got his voice back, just as a whisper though.

"D...don't let him ta-take me.." he wheezed, pushing himself closer against the wall. "Please Tyson, I c-can't go back! I can't!"

"I'm not going to let anyone touch you, my love," Tyson assured him, hands hesitating over his arms, unsure if he was alright to touch in his panicked state, "no one's coming to take you. I won't let that happen." He wasn't sure if Elias had even heard him, he was still rigid where he stood, his breathing frenetic and labored. His eyes were darting around the room in a panic, like he was looking for something that could hurt him. Or probably someone, rather.

Allen was murmuring apologies, he didn't know Elias was listening in the hall! But no one was really listening to him too much, too concerned with Elias. Rightfully so, because now he was fighting Tyson's hands away from him, trying to escape the comforting touch that only seemed threatening when they were accompanied by Tyson's rushed voice and pressured movements.

"Please!" He shrieked, covering his face with his shaking hands, horrified beyond belief. "I-I'll be good! I swear! Ple-ease don't ma-make me go back!"

"Eli, you are good!" Tyson tried to convince him. "You're gonna be ok, I'm not gonna let you go anywhere. You're safe."

Allen watched the panic ensue, his chest heavy with guilt. He knew how he could calm Elias down (they all secretly did, but none of them wanted to say the words that he so desperately needed to hear), and he wanted to help all he could, but he didn't know if getting in between him and Tyson would change anything. He'd done enough anyways. But it became harder to listen to when Elias sunk to the floor in a mess of tears and hard sobbing, screaming for Tyson to please forgive him. With a huff, Allen pushed himself off of the couch and walked up to the messy scene slowly.

"Can...can I help?" He asked Tyson, voice feather soft and nervous that he was overstepping. Tyson threw him an exhausted look, then nodded his head at him. Allen sat down on the ground next to Elias, sighing heavily before he started speaking. "Hey, Eli. Listen, sweetheart," the nickname tasted bitter in his mouth, but Elias did perk up a little, looking up at him with tears pooling in his eyes. "There. There you go, hi."

Tyson was watching them with interest and vague hope, Elias was slowly inching his way away from the wall. Tyson had held off using that nickname, Allen had once told him that it was somewhat of a trademark for August, that it bothered him to be called it after what he'd been through. It was tainted, would never mean the same thing as it once did, would never be just an innocent pet name, ever again. Not when it was usually accompanied by a crazed, hungry look in August's eyes and Allen's blood on his hands. Tyson wondered if it bothered Allen to use it on Elias.

"Listen here, ok? Be nice and quiet so you can listen." He didn't like the sternness in his voice or the language he was using to try and sound as much like August as he could stomach, but Elias was nodding along mindlessly to the words, his sobs came to a slow stop until he was only sniffling and hiccuping. "Good. You're doing so well here, Eli. Behaving incredibly. We're not gonna send you away or let anyone hurt you because you've been very good. You have to calm down and believe us."

Elias took a tiny, shaky breath, leaning toward Allen with his lip caught in his teeth. He looked fairly fear dazed, like he wasn't completely sure who was speaking to him, but he had calmed down significantly. "I...August..?"

"No, Eli," Allen murmured, almost scolding, "no, sweetheart. Just Tyson, Leo, and me. Ok? No August."

"No August." He repeated, almost like he was reassuring himself. Allen nodded, grabbing his shoulder gently and stroking him with his thumb. "N-no August."

"That's right." He said this with a smile, nodding along with him. "Very good. See? Nothing to worry about."

Elias then looked up at Tyson, his face twitching into a small frown again, his bottom lip trembling as he tried not to cry. "I'm sorry." He choked out, voice breaking painfully.

"No, baby, you've got nothing to be sorry for. Are you ok now?" As a response, Elias crawled forward and buried himself into Tyson's arms, hiding his face against his chest as he did. "It's ok, I've got you. I'm here, angel."

"O...ok." he sniffled a few more times, then pushed himself off of Tyson and sat upright, looking up pitifully at the others. Tyson huffed at him, at the soft and frightened roundness to his eyes, his nose and cheeks a soft pink from being breathless and worked up, his pale hair falling in messy waves across his face. Tyson couldn't help but reach out and touch him again, his fingertips brushing against Elias's cheek.

When he flinched away, Tyson almost retracted his hand, apology already on his lips like a bullet in a loaded gun, but Elias quickly corrected himself and pressed his face longingly into Tyson's warm palm, looking up at him still. The look in his eyes said "I'm sorry, you can touch me! See, please keep touching me." And Tyson was frozen at the obvious desperation, at how vulnerable the look on his face made him seem. But then he couldn't help the fondness that overtook him the longer he looked at his Elias, melting against his touch the same way hard candy melts against a tongue. So he pulled him closer, holding his face tenderly as he rested his cheek against Elias's head.

"I've got you," he whispered one final time, but this time it was to tell himself, to reassure himself that Elias was back with him, safe and sound in his arms, not trapped a world away in pain and in danger and all alone. No, he was here, in shambles and hurting and scared, but here nonetheless.

After what Allen had said about August returning, though, Tyson was afraid that Elias wouldn't be here for long.