#please please PLEASE heed the warnings alright i triggered myself writing this

[inkykeiji]

Have you thought about a Tomura-nii? 🥺

ooooh my god anon

tw: pseudocest (adopted siblings), coercion, taking advantage of a younger sibling’s naive and innocent nature, implied size difference (reader is smaller than tomura), female reader, virgin!tomura, masturbation, blood, noncon, overstimulation, blowjobs, use of the word daddy to describe adoptive father, honestly just really fucking nasty and genuinely disgusting, please be careful with this lil piece words: 792

i have!!! i just feel like he’d be really fucking gross, you know??? disgusting in the most heinous way, like flawless tomura but a hundred times worse. i feel like he’d totally be a shut-in, completely inexperienced because your adoptive father (afo) never lets either of you—his fully grown adult children—out of his or kurogiri’s watchful protection. but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when they aren’t looking.

tomura-nii has never been touched, romantically or sexually, by anyone else, but he is an avid consumer of porn + hentai, so much so that it borders on addiction. and eventually, it just isn’t enough. it isn’t enough to spend hours locked away in his room, jerking his cock until it’s red and wrecked, skin chafed so bad its flaking and peeling and bleeding, thin little wounds that weep crimson staining the lines of his sweaty palm a watery pink. it isn’t enough to throw hundreds and hundreds of his father’s money at those online cam girls, making them do unspeakable acts and recording it all for him. it isn’t enough, he needs more, he needs real; something he can feel, something he can touch, something he can own and mark and sink his teeth into—flesh and blood and bone filling his hands and yielding beneath his fingers and quivering around his cock. 

he needs you. 

and sure, he’s sheltered, but you’re even more sheltered, not even allowed access to the internet without daddy’s heavy supervision—so when he sees you, his innocent, naive, totally fucking clueless little sister, he knows he can manipulate you into doing whatever the fuck he wants you to, because nii-san said so, and nii-san knows best, right? nii-san is older, wiser, the boss, and what he says goes, always. he’s basically second in command beneath your adoptive father; even kurogiri seems to bend and break to his every will and whim and wish. 

so who are you to say anything, to know any better, against your bigger, smarter, better brother? who are you to deny him, to say ew and no and gross and it’s wrong! when he slinks into your bedroom in the middle of the night, waking you with his ragged pants and the vigorous slap of his fist against his pelvis, and streaks that lacy little nightgown with thick strokes of glistening cream, quickly cooling as they seep into the dainty fabric, heavy and gelatinous against your skin?

who are you to refuse him, when he asks if he can see how pretty your pussy is, when he asks if he can play with it, unexperienced fingers grinding and pinching until your rubbed-raw clit is swollen and your trembling thighs are stained with copious amounts of your own slick and your eyes are lidded and glassy, vision downy at the edges and bleary with tears, because it (finally) feels so good, too good, that you’re fucking sobbing? 

who are you to reject him, when he says he wants to show you his cock, when he tells you to hold it in your soft little palms and pet it until it’s oozing something sticky and shimmering all over your skin, when he demands that your lick your hands clean, that you put the head in your mouth and suckle on it, that you glide the tip of your tongue, rounded and hard, over the slit as fast as you can—back and forth, back and forth, until he’s shoving the entire thing into your mouth and he’s stuffing your throat full of something thick and acrid? 

nii-san says that it’s okay, that this is normal and what good little sisters are supposed to do, that brothers and sisters who love each other so much do this all the time, and don’t you love him, too? don’t you want to show him just how much you love him? just how perfect and obedient you are? 

and nii-san would never lie to you, would never lead you astray, would never ever want to hurt you, so you should believe everything he says without question, right? right. 

and, christ, you’re so fucking good, so sweet and precious and daddy’s flawless, faultless little rule-abiding princess, adhering to every order and regulation given to you. but daddy doesn’t deserve you, or your good nature and kind heart and eager-to-please tendencies; not when tomura sees you more often, takes care of you better than daddy ever has or ever will, so shouldn’t you be his flawless, faultless little rule-abiding little princess, too? nii-san deserves your attention so much more than daddy does, don’t you think? you owe him this much, yeah? 

of course. of course you do.

[loversj0y]

bad day?

cc!wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: dissociation, explicit implications of self harm, blood

word count: 2.1k

note: please, please, please, heed the trigger warnings. i have been going through a rough time and i wrote this fic as a coping mechanism, so please be aware of what you are going into. it's not my best work but it brought me some comfort to write it, so i hope it may bring you some comfort to read it

There was blood on your hands. 

Why was there blood on your hands?

You looked up in the mirror. It took a few minutes to recognize where you were. You didn’t recognize yourself, but you knew you were looking at yourself. 

You were standing at your sink. There was blood on your hand, dripping into the sink. Fuck. 

You were slowly coming to, turning on the water from the sink and gently running your wrist until the tap. You held in a whimper, hissing at the feeling. As irritating as it was, the cool water and the sting helped ground you more and more into yourself. Once you washed the majority of the blood off your hands and arm, you sighed, slowly taking a seat on the bathroom floor. You couldn’t stand staring at the stranger in the mirror anymore. Opening up the cabinet, you pulled out the first aid kit, nestled at the back behind Wilbur’s spare hair products. The first aid kit collected dust most days now. It almost felt like it was mocking you as you opened it up, pulling out some supplies.

You made quick work out of cleaning. You didn’t want to have to stay here staring at your arm for any longer than you had to, and you’d rather not still be here on the floor when Wilbur got back from filming. After you were properly bandaged, you pulled a hoodie on and just collapsed straight into bed. You had no conscious idea of what time it was, but you felt exhausted regardless. 

You stared at your bandage for a few moments, tracing the line of where the gauze met your skin. Wilbur taught you how to do it properly. Your recovery was no secret to him, and he had always been incredibly supportive. However, the first time he had seen the way you bandage your arm, he looked almost appalled and immediately pulled out the first aid kit again. 

“Darling,” he was chuckling lightly, as if the issue was something far lighter than it was, and it made you feel more at ease as he started undoing the bandage you had done. “I’m going to teach you how to do this properly, alright? I don’t want you getting an infection on me.”

“And how do you know how to do it properly?” You asked, eyebrow raised. 

He hummed, pulling out some antiseptic cream and gauze. “You don’t spend as much time in and out of hospitals for no reason without picking up small things. I went in once because I had a pain in my side that my brain convinced me was my liver failing.” He started rubbing the cream onto your arm so delicately as he continued, “While they went to do tests, I was sharing a hospital room with this guy who had gotten this bad infection on a scrape on his leg. They were training some new nurses, so they started going over appropriate techniques for wrapping cuts and scrapes.”

“And you listened?” 

He looked up at you, pausing his hands to just smile fondly at you and chuckle, “of course I did. As convinced I was that my liver was failing, I also just thought to myself: well, if I survive this, there’s nothing saying the next time I get scraped up won’t be my end. So may as well learn how to prevent it and buy myself some time to say goodbyes.” 

You snorted softly, “That’s pretty dark.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t doing the best at the time,” he chuckled lightly, “but it was for the better. Because now, I can make sure that doesn’t happen to you.” 

You smiled gently at him, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “Thank you, Wilbur.” 

“Of course, darling. Anything.” He smiled, turning his attention back down to finish wrapping your arm. 

Once he finished, he turned your hand over, kissing the top of the bandages. 

“If you’re trying to be cliché, that’s the wrong side,” you hummed. 

“Oh please, I saw your face when I was wrapping you, I know how tender your arm is right now. The day one of my kisses hurts you will be the day I die.”

You flushed softly, taking his hand and squeezing it gently, “Dramatic much?”

“For you, darling? Always.” 

You thought about that night as you pulled your sleeve back down to cover the bandage. No matter how much you knew Wilbur wouldn’t judge you for it, you still felt a shame bubbling in the back of your chest. Instead of pondering it or letting it consume you, you let the exhaustion take over you instead. 

You woke up to the feeling of arms wrapping around you, shifting and sighing. 

“Hi, darling,” Wilbur spoke softly as you turned to face him, settling into his arms, “Bad day?” 

You nodded softly, sighing and looking up at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. Never judgemental, always kind, even if he was finding you in bed after a few days. Even if your room was a mess and your hair was oily and you couldn’t stop crying. He always met you with nothing but kindness. 

He gently brushed some hair out of your face, gently kissing your forehead. He spoke gently, “I saw the first aid kit on the bathroom floor.” He kept the light smile on his face, as if he was asking you about the weather, not your own mental doom. “Do you want to talk about it? Or just lay here for a bit.” 

You leaned forward, resting your head on his chest. When you spoke, your voice was a bit jagged, “Lay here first. Talk after.” 

He nodded, pulling you into him closer. You pressed your head onto him, relaxing slowly. You focused on the sound of his heartbeat, closing your eyes again. He hummed softly. You could spend the next day just lying here before you spoke again, and he would never complain. He’d take as much time as you needed. 

You didn’t know how much time passed before you opened your eyes again. When you did, you watched Wilbur’s face for a moment. Contently, he continued to hum, eyes closed as one hand absentmindedly traced figures into your back. You took a deep breath before speaking softly. 

“I don’t really know what happened,” you spoke. His eyes opened slowly, his gaze full of nothing but love and acceptance. He nodded a bit, waiting for you to go on. 

It took you a while to continue, but he didn’t push, just waited patiently. 

“It felt like a glitch or something. One second I was staring at myself in the mirror and the next I was staring at blood dripping into the sink. I don’t even remember doing it.” 

He nodded, keeping you close, “Did something trigger you?” 

You frowned a bit, “I- I don’t know. I don’t think so, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. 

“That’s okay. To not know,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “walk me through your day. I’ll try and see something you don’t.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright, uh. I woke up pretty late. You’d been gone for a while already, the bed was cold.”

“How were you feeling when you woke up?” He asked softly. 

“Uh,” you thought, “hard to say. I- I guess numb? Didn’t particularly sway one way or the other.”

He nodded, “Alright, continue.”

You nodded, “I went to the kitchen first. Didn’t change out of my pajamas, but I went and I got water. Then I made some breakfast, something light, but I don’t remember what.” You took a deep breath, thinking back and sighing, “I- I remember feeling gross.”

“Gross?”

“Like physically? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered, so I just felt gross. So I went to take a shower. I- I felt… rough. Couldn’t look at myself without feeling gross, no matter how much I’d cleaned myself. At one point, I was just staring at the floor completely… blank. There were no thoughts really going through my head, it just felt like I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“What got you out of it?” He asked gently. 

“My phone went off. I- I never actually checked it, but the sound startled me enough to pull me out of it. I got out, got dressed and everything. And I stopped in front of the mirror to put product in my hair, but when I started looking at myself, it just… cut out from there.” You finished, frowning and focusing your eyes on the seam of his sweater. 

He nodded softly, “Can I see the bandage?”

You shifted your arm, lifting the hoodie sleeve to show him. “I used your method, don’t worry.”

He inspected it carefully, nodding. “Should probably change them, it’s been a while. Are you alright with me doing it, or would you rather do it yourself?”

“You can do it,” you spoke softly. 

He nodded, standing briefly to grab the first aid kit. “How here are you?”

You sighed, thinking. “About 95%. Still not fully here, but I’m mostly all back to myself.”

He nodded, sitting back on the bed next to you. He carefully started undoing your bandages, humming again to himself as he finished getting them off. 

“This will sting,” he warned, waiting for your nod before gently starting to wipe the wounds with an alcohol wipe to disinfect them. You hissed softly, and he gently shushed you. 

“I know, darling, it’s alright. I’m almost done, you’re doing great,” he spoke softly, distracting you until he’d finished cleaning them. 

“There you are, the hard part is over, love,” he spoke softly, grabbing the antiseptic cream and gauze, starting the process of dressing your wounds once more. 

“Scale of one to ten, how bad do you think they are?” He asked softly.

“Physically? They’re not that bad, probably a six. Mentally, I’m not sure. Probably a nine.” 

“A nine?” He asked softly, focused on wrapping the gauze over your wrist but still listening intently. 

“It’s just another reminder that I’m not doing good. That I’m never going to be able to fully heal. I know healing is not linear, but it’s still frustrating to have a physical reminder of it.” 

He nodded softly, “I can understand that. I think you may just be focusing on the wrong thing.”

You tilted your head, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think when this happens, you focus on the whole thing about breaking the amount of time you’ve been clean. Am I right?”

You nodded, so he continued. 

“I think instead of focusing on the streak being broken, we should focus on how good it is that you went as long as you did. You’re treating an addiction like a competition instead of an addiction. You can’t just stop all at once, especially when you were used to doing this every day. So instead of being upset that you didn’t go as many days as you wanted or that you have to start over, focus on the fact that you went as long as you did without doing it. Because it’s a big thing, and a good thing. It deserves its praise.” 

He finished wrapping your wrist, and he placed a gentle kiss to your palm. 

You sat up, slowly leaning forward and resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whispered softly. 

He wrapped his arms around you gently, whispering back, “of course, darling.” 

You kissed his shoulder lightly, and he rubbed your back gently. 

He waited calmly for you to pull away before pulling you into a gentle kiss. He placed a hand on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb on your cheek. 

You kissed him back gently before resting your face into his hand. 

“You said your phone going off helped break you out of it when you were in the shower, yeah?”

You nodded softly, looking up at him. 

He used his other hand to gently brush your hair from your face, “alright. Moving forward, when I’m not home or not with you, I’ll text you at least once at the start of every hour. And unless I know you’re busy, if you don’t respond within… thirty minutes, I’ll call you. Does that sound good?” 

You nodded softly, “That sounds good. Maybe within twenty instead of thirty though.” 

He nodded, “alright. We can experiment with it or change it up occasionally to see what works best. Good game plan?”

“Good game plan,” you nodded softly. 

He smiled, pulling you in for another gentle kiss. 

“Good. Now, choose your comfort film of choice, alright? I’ll order your favourite in too, God knows I won’t be cooking tonight.”

[aerkame]

I will no longer write for other AUs for Welcome Home (please read in full)

TW: Mentions of NSFW/pedos

I know some people only followed me because of a fic or two I might have started writing on for another Welcome Home AU, but recently I have started to notice the increasing toxicity of the fandom overall. Yeah, I've been other fandoms I know there is toxicity and I know there's a lot of nice people in this fandom, but I have NEVER seen it this bad. Out of all the fandoms/fanbases that I have been in, I have never seen such a huge problem regarding pedos, NSFW art/writing being shared and looked at by minors despite the creator's wishes, general toxic behavior, and a large amount of mentally unwell people working their way into groups of children or safe spaces. I ended up having to delete quite a few NSFW art pieces on twitter because I found minors had seen it and some guy decided to make a comment on my OC Lilith that I was not comfortable with.

I also do not feel alright having to restrict myself on what I write or draw because a single person might be "triggered" or "offended" by it. I know I put warnings when they are needed, I should not have to feel like I'm walking on eggshells in this fandom. I do not need anonymous asks telling me how I should and shouldn't write or what I can and can't say.

Because of how bad it's been and seeing more and more creators leave the fandom, I have decided to no longer engage in other AUs or creators unless it's from a follower (I know you guys are fine), friend, or person I know I've talked with before, OR if it's Clown himself. A lot of people forget that Welcome Home isn't what people keep writing it as. Welcome Home isn't even close to being done, we're just riding off the AUs right now. It really rubs me the wrong way that all I ever see on AO3 now with fanfictions are smut fics mainly and some pretty disturbing stuff.

There is so much, too much, s3xualization in this fandom and the romanticizing of serious and dangerous themes/topics. A lot of times believe or not, when I draw buff characters with no shirts, it really is just anatomy practice. I do not understand some of the comments I get sometimes in my inbox. Yes it's fine to tease a bit, but my goodness some of the comments I have seen before are concerning. I never intend on s3xualizing the characters and yet I always get anon asks going a bit out there with s3xualized comments. It's why I haven't really drawn that stuff in a while. I can't tell if people really do s3xualize that stuff or if they're seeing it as anatomy practice with a bit of tease like I do.

I have been bottling A LOT of things up recently and it's hindered my ability to really write or draw how I want. I'm always scrapping ideas and giving up halfway through.

It's always "Is this something that people are going to s3xualize?" "Is this something that might offend someone in x category?' "Will people like this new character?" "Am I good enough for this topic?". It's not healthy and I know that it affects my creativity and mentality, I won't be restricting myself anymore though. I will write/draw what I want, just please heed my warnings when I put them there and don't ignore my boundaries or the boundaries of others.

Now, regarding my own two AUs (I dropped the Dream one because I have something special planned for TFP), The Finfolk AU and Alive AU. I WILL continue writing/drawing for them. They are my own AUs with my own characters added in them. A lot of people that interact with me are followers and I know you guys would never disrespect my OCs or invade boundaries and I love you so much for that. Of course my rule on requests remain the same. NO NSFW for the normal Welcome Home, but NSFW is allowed for Finfolk AU requests.

Unfortunately, all of this does mean I will not continue the fic I was writing for @clownsuu Mob AU. I'm sorry, I just really do not feel like writing for an AU outside of what I know in terms of the person who makes it. I am not sure how to explain it other than I don't feel alright with it unless it's like an AU from someone I know or at least talked to before? Just at least a person I know on some personal level. I don't want to explore the fandom right now, it is a mess with the people in it...do not take this the wrong way, I DO NOT hate anyone outside of the people I know, I just don't feel comfortable in the fandom at the moment and I will not leave you guys behind either. So in short, I plan to just stay in my own lane so to speak and do what I can for the ones who follow me for what I do.

I will however finish the Villain fanfiction as it's not exactly anyone's AU? Not sure how to explain that, it was a series of asks for it. And obviously I will make a full long fanfictions for the Alive and Finfolk AU.

I know I said I don't want to vent on here, but it's getting hard for me to ignore. Everytime I type or pick up a pencil to make something on here it doesn't feel right.

[uselesssomebody]

rules!

blog rules!

this blog is a safe space for the lgbt+ community as well as p.o.c., so please never feel unwelcome. anyone against these values, please just keep scrolling. be polite in requests/interaction. i love a bit of constructive criticism, but keep it contructive. heed 18+ warning and smut/trigger warnings

writing disclaimers!

i am mostly a romance blog, i.e. i write with the intention (usually) of some romantic conclusion between the two characters. i am also a (pretty much) strictly 'x reader' blog; if you have requests for two canon characters, i will most likely not be able to help you.

writing do's!

request anything to me, guys! i will be alright if you request things with triggering content, i will be alright if you choose real niche characters, and i'll be alright if you send a real specific, super self-indulgent request. of course, some asks will be neglected (due to time or other inability to work on it), but, generally, i attempt to complete works that i am alright working with.

writing don't's!

☁ no under-18/kid readers as part of plot (highschool age for e.g. stranger things & teen wolf is fine as long as the actor is over 18 - so no s.t. kids!) ☁ i'm not qualified to write about stuff like eating disorders, self harm or other mental illness especially from a reader's perspective ☁ kinks like ddlg/age play, anal penetration, bodily fluids (besides blood and cum) ☁ I do not write real person fiction ☁ while generally POC reader requests is okay, i can't write specific races for charcaters besides desi readers (cause i'm desi myself)

who i write for! (always updating)

☁ from stranger things, i write for eddie munson, robin buckley, billy hargrove or steve harrington ☁ from marvel, i write for bucky barnes, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, jake lockley, marc spector, steven grant, layla el-faouly and miguel o'hara ☁ from harry potter, i write for cedric diggory, fred weasley, ron weasley, remus lupin, sirius black, regulus black and james potter ☁ from star wars, i write for poe dameron, and din djarin (the mandalorian) ☁ from triple frontier, i write for frankie morales and santiago garcia ☁ miscellaneous oscar isaac characters i write for include basil stitt, jonathan levy, duke leto, kane and orestes (agora) ☁ miscellaneous pedro pascal characters i write for include joel miller, javier peña, jack daniels (agent whiskey), dio morrissey, and marcus acacius ☁ miscellaneous sebastian stan characters i write for include lee bodecker, carter baizen and charles blackwood ☁ miscellaneous dylan o'brien characters i write for include thomas (maze runner), stiles stilinski, and stuart (the internship) ☁ other miscellaneous characters include felix catton (saltburn), paul atriedes (dune), emperor geta (gladiator) and tess servopoulos (the last of us)

[mayorasmusings]

This Tumblr is only for 18+ - Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

I will block you.

Hi and welcome,

Mayora here, 30+.

I like to write SFW/NSFW headcanons, scenarios and the occasional fic. Some involve reader, some involve pairings or characters on their own.

The following warnings are something I would like you to heed, before proceeding to interact with my posts/blog in general or send in requests:

Being a German-Arab, English is not my first language, so things might be off, here and there. I am very eager to learn and be corrected, though.

Aside from the usual fluff and smut, I also write and take requests for the following, rather dark and triggering topics such as:

yandere/obsession/control

age-gap relationships (mostly older women, younger men)

murder/snuff/mutilation

female rage/female pleasure

abusive relationships/family-systems

drugs (use and addiction)

rape/non-con/dub-con

mental illness (especially C-PTSD and the cluster-B-spectrum)

all types of kinks and fetishes (but with limits)

sex-work (not a dark topic, but to some it's triggering)

glorification of villany

misogyny/toxic masculinity

criminal behavior

vampirism

Just because I write about these topics, it doesn't mean that I condone or glorify any of this. So please, if any of this triggers you, strictly heed the content warnings of the individual posts or don't interact with the blog altogether. I will not pull any punches here.

I write and take requests for the following fandoms:

FF VI-FFX and XV (especially FFXV)

JJBA Part 1-8

Dragon Age

Persona 2 IS and EP

Digital Devil Saga/SMT-universe

Angel Sanctuary

My boundaries

I draw the line at following topics:

anything involving animals (pet-play, as in roleplay with two humans is okay, though)

underage characters

children

scat

incest

pregnancy in general

transphobia

racism

raceplay

Note: If a character is aged up considerably (10-20 years older than canon), I might consider writing for them, but I don't guarantee filling that type of request.

I'm also uncomfortable writing for the following pairings/characters:

FFXV

Ignis/Noctis

Ignis/Prompto

Gladio/Noctis

Gladio/Prompto

an OT3/4 involving them interacting as a polycule - I can however write the four of them interacting separetely from one another with a character outside the group. Basically some polyandry, if you will.

Iris - SFW and Implications of having a crush/boyfriend are alright though.

JJBA

The complete Phantom Blood cast

DioPucci. I think it's an interesting pairing, but I don't feel comfortable creating content for it, myself.

Josuke

Yukako

Okuyasu

Koichi

Giorno

Mista

Narancia

Trish

Persona 2

Lisa, Eikichi, Jun, Tatsuya or any of the other schoolkids. SFW or aged up is alright though.

Katsuya/Tatsuya.

Maya/Tatsuya.

Angel Sanctuary

Kurai

Sara

[golbrocklovely]

never needed // colby brock

A/N: so fun fact about this fic is that i came up with it last year back in november. it was around the time me and my ex best friend stopped being friends. i was really in such a rough headspace, and i think the concept shows it. i just finished writing it today and wow... i still feel this way to some extent, but not fully (thank god). also i literally cried while writing it today so there’s that. hope yall enjoy this one. i'm trying to post a bunch of fics since this coming week is my bday (the 14th). no guarantees, but i'm trying my best to put out at least six things. let me know what you think of this one. see yall later :)

prompt: colby has been ghosting you for a while, just when things were starting to get good between you two. after a week of ignoring you, he’s finally ready to talk. || fem!reader x colby brock

trigger warning: angst, cursing, heartache, crying, honestly this one is really sad so sorry about that, happy ending tho

word count: 2331

~~~~~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned to myself, staring at my phone.

Colby was still ignoring me, something I had grown accustomed to this week. He had ghosted my calls and my texts. He turned his read notifications off too, so I had no clue whether or not he had even seen my messages at all.

Everything had been going great between us. We had met a couple years back and hit it off as friends right away. I always thought he was attractive, and our friendship was always really flirty; so much so that fans thought we were together. And then finally, something clicked a couple months back. I wasn't sure if it was the accidental drunken kiss we shared, or just a built up of feelings, but we finally decided that maybe we should test out an actual relationship.

We promised each other we would take it slow, both of us still heartbroken from our previous relationships and our general trust issues. But these past two months, we went into overdrive, actually taking the time to feel each other out as boyfriend and girlfriend.

And for the first time, I felt happy. Genuinely happy.

A week ago, we had even gone on a cute little date, something we had started doing regularly. We were in the middle of our conversation; I remember I laughed hard at something he said. It was loud enough that some of the patrons in the restaurant stared at us. And when he tried to shush me jokingly, a silence had fallen over us.

His face dropped suddenly, he became super serious and quiet, and then he asked if we could go home.

He told me the next day that he thought he got food poisoning and it just hit him in the restaurant. I didn't think anything of it and was fine with going home early.

But now, I wonder if he was lying.

I looked back down at my phone, reading over my messages from the past week to him.

Was I taking this too far? He could have just been busy. I don't wanna come across as clingy.

"Ugh, fuck that." I muttered out loud to myself, rolling out of my bed to get a drink.

I didn't care if I came across as clingy. I had a right to know why he was ignoring me. If it was work related, he would have told me. He had done that in the past before.

This was different, I just knew it.

Tomorrow, I planned to go over and see him. I would have done it tonight, but I knew he wasn't home. He was out with some friends at Saddle Ranch. Like a fan, I had to watch his stories on Insta, since that was the only way I knew where he was.

"Don't expect too much from him." Sam said.

I shook my head at that memory. When we got together, everyone was happy for us. But I could feel a certain tension in the room, a certain caveat that wasn't being mentioned. Later that night, Sam and I were by ourselves, and he asked me if Colby and I had really made our relationship official. I told him we hadn't gone all the way, but that we were taking it one step at a time.

"I'm happy for you guys, really. I just wonder..." His voice trailed off.

I cocked my head. "Wonder what?"

"Look, I love you both, but I don't know if Colby is really ready for a relationship. There's a lot of things he still needs to work through." He stated.

"We're not that serious." I laughed.

"Yeah, yet. If you plan to be, I just don't want you to get your heart broken because he wasn't ready." Sam admitted.

I patted his shoulder lightly, smiling. "Relax, Samuel. Everything will be fine."

"Alright. Just... don't expect too much from him, okay?" He mentioned, his eyes narrowing on mine.

That had been two months ago and... I think I should have heeded his warning.

A loud knock at my front door brought me out of my thoughts, scaring me. I grabbed a knife from my kitchen, striding over to the door. I glance through the peephole to see who was there.

Colby's face stared back.

"Y/N, it's me. Can you open the door?" He called.

I scowled at him through the peephole. "Sorry she's not home right now. Maybe you should try responding to her texts.”

“Look I'm sorry, but that's why I came over. I wanted to talk in person.” He replied.

“Damn, that’s a shame. Too bad she’s not home!” I exclaimed angrily.

“C’mon now, don’t be childish.” He remarked.

I swung the door open, holding back from yelling into my hallway. “Childish?!”

He smirked at me. “I knew that would get you to open the door.”

“You’re not funny.” I deadpanned, glaring at him.

“Can you please let me in? I seriously want to talk.” Colby responded, his eyes landing on mine.

“No, Colby. It’s one o’clock in the morning, I don’t feel like talking, and you’re drunk.” I jeered, resting my hands on my hips.

He scrunched up his face dramatically. “No, I’m not. I only had like two drinks.”

“Oh my mistake. I figured a person that randomly comes over to talk at the ass-crack of night is usually drunk,” I quipped. “Don’t you have better things to do, like be at Saddle Ranch?”

He stepped back, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you know I was at Saddle Ranch?”

I could feel my cheeks heat up. “Because… I watched your stories.”

“Nice to know you pay attention to me,” he uttered under his breath. “Please let me in.”

“No. Fuck off, Colby.” I hissed.

He rolled his eyes at my comment. “If you don’t let me in, I’m just gonna make noise out here in the hallway until you do.”

“Bet.” I huffed.

“What was your favorite movie again… ‘10 Things I Hate About You’?” He questioned, stepping back further into the hallway.

I blinked. “Yeah, so what?”

He looked up at me, giving me a devilish smile. “…You’re just too good to be true.”

My face dropped at his voice. “Colby.”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” He sang, pointing at me.

“Are you really-” I started.

He cut me off, running his hands down his body. “You’d be like heaven to touch.”

I hushed. “Seriously stop-”

“I wanna hold you so much.” He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself.

I grunted, smacking my hand towards him. “Colby, it’s one in the morn-”

“At long last, love has arrived.” He opened his arms wide.

“Shut the fuck up!” I whisper-shouted.

“And I thank God I'm alive.” Colby praised up towards the ceiling.

I retorted. “You’re fucking embarrass-”

He spun in a circle slowly. “You're just too good to be true.”

“I knew giving you the code to my apartment was a bad idea.” I grumbled.

“Can't take my eyes off of you.” He winked, pointing at me again.

Colby took a big inhale, ready to start singing the music, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my apartment.

I slammed my door shut, locking it quickly. “Next time you do something like that, I’m gonna kill you.”

“That’s not very- why do you have a knife?” He motioned toward the knife sitting on my side table.

“What-? Oh, I thought you were an intruder.” I explained.

He lightly smiled, his dimples appearing. “You think an intruder would knock?”

I snapped, annoyed. “Aren’t you here to apologize?”

“Right, right,” he cleared his throat, his demeanor changing. “Y/N, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Sure.” I narrowed my eyes, walking towards my kitchen.

He followed me. “I know what I did was fucked up. I should have responded to you.”

“You completely ignored me for over a week.” I informed him, resting my back against the counter.

He nodded. “I know. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I crossed my arms uncomfortably. “…were you busy?”

“No, not really.” He divulged, dropping his head.

“So, you purposefully ignored my calls and text…” I could feel my hands shake against my arms.

“You make it sound bad-” He mumbled.

“It is that bad.” I emphasized, stopping him. “Colby, you wanna talk about being childish? That shit was childish.”

He agreed. “I know it was.”

“Obviously not since you keep joking about it.” I argued.

“I’m not trying to joke,” he protested, running his hands through his hair. “Do you wanna know the honest to God truth?”

“Of course I do.” I answered, furrowing my eyebrows.

He exhaled, glancing at me. “When we first got together, even though we were taking it slow, I was terrified to date you.”

“Terrified?” I puzzled.

He swallowed hard. “Yes. Scared shitless.”

“Why?” I questioned.

“I thought it was because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But then… at dinner,” his voice lowered, his shoulders dropping. “I realized it was more than that.”

I shook my head, confused. “What are you ta-”

“I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.” He confessed.

His words made me step back, my breath hitching in my throat.

I choked. “What?”

“When you laughed really hard, and did that cute snort thing you do, I remember we looked at each other… and all I saw was you,” his eyes bore into mine, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. “No one else in that restaurant existed. And in that moment, I wanted to tell you I love you.”

I stammered out words, unable to think clearly. “S-so… you-”

“When I felt it, I knew I had to go home. Because I was just so shocked at the feeling. I haven’t felt that way for anyone in a long time.” He sighed exhaustingly, “and… I apologize that I ignored you. Every time I saw your messages, I knew I should have responded. But my body, my mind, wouldn’t let me.”

I frowned. “Because you love me?”

“Because… I’m scared to love you.” He admitted.

A heavy silence fell over the apartment. I shuddered out an exhale, not even noticing I had been holding my breath in for so long. Colby closed his eyes, twisting up his face, and turned his back to me.

“Why are you scared to love me?” I gulped, scared of his answer.

His shoulders tensed as he gripped the counter. “The last time you felt heartbroken… did it leave you feeling empty? Because that’s how I felt… for so long. It’s not even the empty feeling that bothered me. It was the fact that I knew something used to be there… and now it’s gone. I miss who I was before.”

I opened my mouth, but no words escaped.

“I have this deep, guttural feeling that you’re gonna realize I’m not worth loving, and that there is someone else out there that is, and you’re gonna leave me.” His voice trembled as he spoke, “everyone… always leaves me.”

I gasped quietly. “Colby-”

He turned back to me, his face becoming red. “I just feel like no one ever needs me, you know? Like some people only keep me around because they don’t have the heart to just tell me they don’t care anymore. Even Sam has someone else.

I consoled. “That’s not-”

“And I know it’s selfish to want everyone around me to only want me. I don’t really feel that way. I just… don’t feel like anyone really needs me as much as I need them,” his chest quaked as his breathing began to speed up. “And when you realize it too… I don’t think I can live through that fall out again. I don’t think I’m gonna survive it.”

“Wait, Col-” I murmured.

“At that dinner, I had this gut-wrenching anxiety come over me; a voice in my head that said ‘she’s gonna leave you too’ and… I’m just so sorry.” He panted, his eyes welling up.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, pressing his body into mine as hard as I could. He buried his face into my neck, his body almost going limp against mine.

I couldn’t help my own tears spill as they landed on his shirt. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way before?”

“I was ashamed. I should be stronger than this.” He fumed through his tears.

I rubbed his face lovingly. “Who said that? You are strong. Expressing your emotions is strong.”

He nodded, croaking. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course. How about tonight you stay over, and then in the morning, we’ll talk about this more? Okay?” I suggested, resting my hands on his forearms.

“Yeah.” He whimpered.

I smiled brokenly. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

I lightly grasped Colby’s hand, pulling him slowly into my bedroom. He stumbled along, his head remaining down.

I sat him down on the bed and slid off his jacket, placing it on my dresser. I cupped his face, tracing his jaw with my fingers. His eyes finally landed on mine as I tilted his head up.

I leaned down and kissed his lips, resting my forehead against his.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Colby.” I stated, gazing into his eyes.

He begged in a hushed tone. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I reassured, kissing his forehead.

I walked over to the other side of my bed and laid down. Colby kicked off his shoes, taking his belt off and pulling his jeans down. After getting undressed, he slid into bed with me, laying his head down softly on my chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he buried his head into my neck again, sighing against my skin. I ran my fingers through his hair, a light hum falling from his lips. I ran my other hand up and down his spine, feeling him shiver under my touch.

“We’ll be okay, Colby.” I whispered.

[angstyaches]

angst time! shayne sort of relapsing into his old habits of not eating and elliot and ryan of all people notice and help him manage it and eat through the nausea of not having eaten for ages? bonus if charlie knows this but is far away and eli understands what being a concerned bf feels like so he texts him updates?

please please take care of yourself first and don’t write this if it could trigger you or make you feel bad. 🍄

Okay. After three-ish months, I finally cut myself off with the editing and over-analysing. I’m sure I made it worse than it originally was, but here it is!!

This got pretty long, because I got a bit carried away with Elliott/Ryan moments, and Elliott's rambling thoughts on things. Also dialogue-heavy in parts. Please heed the content warnings, as usual. 

CW: disordered eating, trauma, PTSD, blood (drinking) mention, dizziness, nausea, emeto, food, stomach noises, very brief mention of character’s weight.

Word Count: 4,554

Shayne's Masterlist | Elliott's Masterlist | Swallow the World Masterlist

___

Roughly six hours into not being able to sleep for longer than a few minutes at a time, Shayne rolled over beneath the duvet, groaning as it lifted on one side and let the tiniest amount of heat escape. It didn’t matter that the townhouse had central heating, or that his duvet was twice as thick as the one he’d grown up with; he was always so fucking cold these past few days.

He tried to check his phone, barely getting past the lock screen before the brightness surrounding the text made him feel nauseous. He just about made out Charlie’s name on the notification bar. Swallowing against the swell of guilt in his throat, he locked his phone again and pushed it under his pillow.

He rolled onto his back, trying to prepare himself to get up. He really didn’t want to go to the Green. It was easy to pretend that nothing was wrong when all he had to do was sit around the townhouse, holding his head up over some books for a few hours, paying attention to the TV for a while, nodding and humming and pretending to comprehend what people were saying to him. 

At the Green, he’d have to perform. 

In the silence of the room, Shayne’s stomach growled. He blinked in annoyance, still facing the ceiling, and flinched as he heard the door to his room being pushed open.

“Shayne. Come on, kid, are you serious? Wake up.”

Shayne gritted his teeth, biting back the urge to yell at Elliott to fuck off. “I’m not asleep.”

___

Elliott blinked at the almost-darkness that shrouded the room after he opened the door. The silhouette of someone lying beneath the covers of the bed made him roll his eyes. The thought of sleeping past nine in the morning – especially on a day when there were plans to go and train with Ryan – made his skin feel itchy, but his cousin clearly didn’t have a problem with it.

"Shayne,” he said. “Come on, kid, are you serious? Wake up."

"I'm not asleep."

Elliott frowned and pushed the door open further. He’d been expecting a groan or a swear word from the shape inside the bed, not the weak mumble that he got. "Then… move your ass. Come on. We’re leaving in a few minutes, okay?"

"Maybe I’ll miss it today, El."

“Huh? And why’s that?”

“Don’t know. Not feeling it.”

That hung in the air for a long moment. Shayne had never turned down a session with Ryan, though whether that was out of respect or fear or just raw gratitude towards her, Elliott couldn’t say. Elliott couldn’t imagine where this attitude was coming from, but it seemed like something that would quickly become a habit if they weren’t careful.

“Come on, you’ll be fine. Training is just a waste of time if you don’t keep going consistently.”

Nothing. No movement, not a sound.

"Downstairs in five, alright? You’ve got this," Elliott said. His infectious energy tended to work with Felix on his down days, and since Felix hadn’t been around for a few days – he had rented a hotel room near his mother’s nursing home so he could spend some time with her – it seemed that Shayne was now the target of his aggressive motivational skills. “You'll feel better once you're up and moving. Trust me."

Shayne responded with something like a groan or a whimper. Elliott ducked out before uncertainty could creep up on him, and he proceeded downstairs to the kitchen.

There, Elliott found Ryan standing by the kitchen window, a coffee mug in hand that most definitely did not contain coffee. She simply enjoyed using drinkware that was appropriate for the time of day; coffee mugs in the morning, teacups in the afternoon, wine glasses only after dinner unless the occasion called for them. 

She was watching the birds picking at the homemade feeder that Nancy had hung out there earlier in the week. For someone trained in the magical arts, Nancy loved to make things with her hands.

“Good morning, Mama,” he chirped.

“Do not call me that,” she shot back, bringing the rim of her mug to her mouth. Her lips came away tinted blood-red, until she licked them clean. “You should get yourself some LMD. We’ve been training intensively, and it’s important to maintain your intake.”

Elliott took a step backwards so that he could open the fridge. Several rows of glass tubes clinked in the storage compartments built into the door. Red fluid sloshed evenly in every single one of them, dancing behind an assortment of differently marked labels. Besides this selection of blood – some human, some otherwise – the fridge was pretty much a ghost town. 

Warm drool began to pool against Elliott’s cheeks as he selected one of the vials marked “LMD” and drew it out of its cradle. He started most mornings with animal blood – usually cow or pig, depending on how it was being sourced – so human blood first-thing was extremely tantalising. 

He shut the fridge door and reached for a mug to drink from.

LMD were the initials of Ryan’s favourite donor, whose blood was marked and kept track of the most carefully. Elliott didn’t really care about the linguistics of it all, but it had been a cause of debate between Ryan and Felix in the past; Ryan believed firmly in calling a spade a spade and acknowledging the human the blood had been drawn from, whereas Felix started to feel queasy as soon as he started associating blood with its owner. Elliott didn’t mind what was labelled as what; blood was fucking delicious and there was nothing that would ever change that.

The LMD splashed a bit – rather stylishly, Elliott thought – as he poured, watching to make sure that not a single drop landed outside of the cup. The aroma hit his senses like a bouquet of roses that had been drenched in chocolate and sprinkled with chilli flakes. Elliott pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as it watered even harder. 

His fangs were beginning to throb, sending dull waves up under his eyeballs. He picked the cup up by the handle, his stomach pinching with anticipation. His vision was tunnelling now, tinted red at the edges, as if he had a hunt coming up. Ryan’s method of safely preserving blood for consumption was relatively modern, and vampires’ bodies were still phasing out the instinct to seek a kill every time they needed to feed. 

He downed the cup in one go, gasping as he lowered it. 

The pinching in his stomach eased as he licked his lips again, this time to check he hadn’t missed a drop. The bliss that fogged his mind was quickly dispersed by the sound of Ryan’s voice.

“How is your body temperature regulation?” She always used such a breezy tone when inquiring about bodily health, as though she were asking him what brand of shoes he was wearing.

“Uh, fine,” he shrugged. He hadn’t taken his temperature in days, but he knew he’d reached a state where the fevers weren’t impacting his everyday life anymore. His appetite for blood was certainly getting back to what it used to be, too, judging by the pangs of impatience that still lingered through his abdomen. Perhaps he had time for one more drink.

“Excellent. I’m glad.” Ryan drummed a finger against the side of her own mug, eyes following Elliott as he wandered back towards the fridge. “Is something the matter with Shayne? I assumed he would be joining us this morning.”

“He will. He should be down… soon,” Elliott said, pulling the fridge door open again. There was a whole row of blood vials labelled “Cervidae”, which meant deer. Felix also fretted over the prospect of putting a ‘cute’ animal’s name on a vial, so Ryan had compromised and created the labels with the scientific name. 

Elliott grabbed one of those and emptied it into his mug. “I told him to hurry up before I came downstairs.”

“Hmm.” Ryan took a sip from her own mug as Elliott gulped down his second. Her eyes flitted towards the door leading into the hallway. “I believe I just heard him on the stairs.”

Elliott exhaled deeply after lowering his mug again, thoughts clearing more quickly this time as his fangs retracted and his insides started to fill with tingling warmth.

Shayne arrived in the doorway, wearing his usual skinny jeans but missing his leather jacket. Instead, he was in Charlie’s red hoodie, the one he’d been wearing around the house for the past few days.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Fuck off,” Shayne sighed, lacking the usual fire that he packed behind his profanities. He took his next step slowly, as though his body were too stiff to move any faster. Elliott’s heart dropped as Shayne got closer, noting the hollowed-out look in his cousin’s face, the shakiness in his legs as he stood there.

“Jesus… you look awful,” was all he managed to say as Shayne stepped fully into the kitchen.

"Yeah," Shayne mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor tiles. His eyelashes gave a dangerous flutter. “I… I know.”

Reacting faster than Elliott could, Ryan walked over and pressed a hand to his forehead. Elliott watched him flinch at the sudden – and, frankly, unceremonious – touch. The fact that he didn’t try to dodge Ryan’s hand at all only added to Elliott’s mounting concern.

“You do not have a fever,” Ryan told Shayne, “but you are alarmingly pale. What are your other symptoms?”

“Don’t know,” Shayne grumbled, turning his face away from Ryan’s hand.

She clicked her tongue, more in annoyance than in sympathy. “We are running late this morning, but perhaps you should eat something before we leave.”

“No, I don’t…” Shayne glanced away again as soon as Elliott met his gaze. He looked absolutely wretched. “I kept you both waiting for me, so let’s just… go, okay?”

Elliott glanced at Ryan, wondering if she was having the same, sinking realisation he was having. Now that he thought about it, Shayne had only ever seemed to eat at the townhouse when Felix or Nancy were eating, too. Elliott and Ryan didn’t need food. And since Felix had been away, and Nancy had been dining out with friends a lot recently…

He walked over and pulled the door of the fridge open for the third time that morning. 

The vials of blood shuddered once more, but Elliott wasn’t looking at them this time. Other than a half-carton of oak milk (for when Nancy took it upon herself to make homemade lattes), a tub of butter, and a few of Felix's favourite chocolate bars, there was nothing in the fridge consumable by humans.

"Shayne, what – what the hell have you been eating since Felix left?"

When there was no answer, Elliott looked over his shoulder. His cousin was still just standing there, staring at the floor, as though he thought that waiting it out would just make the question go away. It made Elliott's blood boil, brought back that tinge of red at the edges of his vision, and next thing he knew, he was slamming the fridge door shut out of frustration. At least one of the vials of blood shattered inside, and the sound of it only made Elliott’s anger hotter.

“Calm yourself, Elliott,” Ryan said sharply.

Elliott stormed back across the kitchen, his mind far too hazy with anger to listen to Ryan, "God fucking damn it, Shayne, what have you eaten recently?"

"Nothing!” Shayne yelled, shutting his eyes. “Nothing, I… swear."

 And just like that, the heat in Elliott's veins ran cold. It wasn't just the words, it was the fearful defensiveness, as though... as though he was being accused of something unspeakable.

"What...?" Elliott mumbled, though he couldn't quite finish the question.

When he opened his eyes, Shayne looked almost as horrified as Elliott felt. His eyes were bright with tears as he took a step back towards the door, like he was about to make a run for it.

“Shayne,” Ryan said calmly, folding her arms so that her fingers could tap against her elbow. “We had an agreement, formed on the basis that you would take your health and wellbeing more seriously, and that you would make an effort to properly communicate –”

“Yeah, well, clearly I’m not fucking capable of any of that,” Shayne said, stepping into the hallway. His head was ducked so low that he was practically doubled over as he walked. “So why don’t you just throw me out?”

Elliott’s eyes widened. Not even he made a habit of swearing at Ryan. Not a single thing changed about her expression, though, nor did she seem to react to the fact that Shayne was shaking and blinking harshly.

“Shayne, wait, what the fuck?” Elliott demanded, following him closely around by the side of the stairs. His heart dropped as he watched his cousin sway, and he instinctively reached out to help steady him.

Shayne pulled to the side, causing his shoulder to collide with the cupboard door beneath the stairs. “Don’t f-fucking touch me.”

“I’m sorry.” Elliott gulped, blinking at the sight of Shayne’s face as he turned his head to snap at him. His skin was so pale it had started to look grey; the deep brown of his eyes had seemed to turn black. He raised his hands to show that there would be no touching, Elliott gestured towards the door to the front living room. “Let’s go and sit you down for a minute, alright? You look a little shaky.”

“’M not shaky,” Shayne mumbled, slurring the words a little bit. He resolved himself to doing what he was told for once, shuffling his feet in the direction of the front living room. He let Elliott keep a hand hovering by his elbow most of the way. He’d taken his hands out of his hoodie pockets and folded them over the front of them; Elliott realised he’d been hiding the fact that he’d been clutching his stomach the entire time.

With several yards still to go, he swayed again. This time, he made brief eye contact with Elliott. His eyes looked absolutely defeated, like he had finally resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way without help. He was shivering inside his layers of clothing. Elliott had the urge to throw blankets at the kid, but for now, he'd settle for just guiding him to the sitting room. He let Elliott support his way the rest of the way, and Elliott felt sick at how light he felt.

He lowered himself gingerly to the sofa.

Elliott sighed and crouched in front of him. Shayne groaned and shivered, head disappearing between his knees. “El, I feel… sick.”

“Really?” Elliott placed his hand on his own stomach, trying to recall the similarities between starvation and nausea. “Are you sure it isn’t just hunger pains?”

“No, I feel sick.”

Elliott glanced around at the minimalist furniture that dotted the living room and front hallway. As if he was going to find anything useful there that Nancy wouldn’t mind being destroyed with vomit. And there was no way the kid was walking to the bathroom like this. “Hang on a second. I’ll get you a – I don’t know, a bucket or something.”

Elliott employed his new travelling technique, fading into a swarm of tiny bats that moved at insane speed, but only for a moment. He was too wary to hold that form for too long while he was indoors.

He walked normally for the last few metres through the doorway of the kitchen.

He blinked at the sight of Ryan placing a saucepan on the hob, a container of frozen broth laying on the countertop next to it. He’d never even been sure that Ryan knew how to use the cooker, and suddenly had horrible visions of the townhouse being engulfed in flames.

“Need me to do that…?” Elliott asked, grabbing a bucket from the cupboard under the sink. He knew he didn’t have time to lure her away from the fire hazard, but felt the need to say something.

“I am two hundred years old,” Ryan shot back. “And I am a distinguished scientist. I can manage an induction hob.”

Unconvinced, but knowing he had to get back to Shayne, Elliott couldn’t question her any further. He returned to the end of the living room, crouching again and waiting for Shayne to lift his head.

“Hey, man,” he said after a few seconds. He nudged the bucket against Shayne’s knees. “Do you want this?”

A low groan was the response. Shayne slowly shuffled his feet apart and put out a hand to take the bucket, pulling it between his knees. Elliott took the opportunity to get up from the floor and settle himself on the sofa too, leaving about a metre of space between them.

He rested his chin on his hand and stared across at the fire place, trying not to look or react as Shayne suddenly gagged drily over the bucket. He tapped the heels of his hands against his legs to distract himself. He didn’t usually react badly to the sound or sight of someone else throwing up, but he did very much hope his breakfast would stay settled where it was.

The whimpers that escaped between Shayne’s teeth between gags made Elliott regret trying to guilt him into coming out to train. He ventured a glance towards him, noting that he was barely bringing anything up, besides a few mouthfuls of bile. That was hardly surprising; Elliott wasn’t sure he wanted to ask how many days it had been since Shayne had eaten something.

“What are we going to do with you, kid?” Elliott mumbled.

Lips and eyes glistening within his washed-out complexion, Shayne attempted to scowl. “I’m fine,” he groaned, as if it wasn’t obvious by now that it was a lie, a conditioned response. He loosened his grip on the bucket and let it sit on the floor. Elliott nudged it a little further away, and watched as Shayne drew his knees up tighter and hugged one arm against his stomach.

The other slid across the back of his neck, fingers curling tightly there. It was usually his jaw that bothered him when he was in distress, so Elliott couldn’t help but ask.

“What’s up with your neck?”

Shayne seemed to swallow thickly, ducking his head and curling his hand tighter around the back of his neck. A weak sob shook his shoulders. Elliott had no idea what to do. It was at times like this when he seriously felt the lack of Felix, the yin to his yan. The tact to his directness.

He cleared his throat. “You need a hug?”

“No.”

Elliott inhaled slowly, puffing out his cheeks, and exhaled even more slowly. He wondered how much longer it would take Ryan to heat up that broth. The silence was broken only by Shayne taking short, soft breaths, and eventually, whispering so quietly that Elliott may have missed it if not for his vampiric hearing.

“It’s… Mads.”

His skin crawled. Shayne had mentioned this to him before, he realised. The sensation of Madelyn breathing down his neck.

Before he could even begin to formulate a response, a harsh buzzing sound came from somewhere between the two of them, and Elliott put a hand to his pocket to check if it was his phone, but he seemed to have left it in the kitchen or elsewhere.

When he looked at Shayne again, he felt his chest constrict. Along with the guilt, he was already preparing for the lecture of a lifetime from Felix as soon as he found out about all of this.

“I’m sorry we didn’t notice…” he trailed, rubbing at his forehead. Lumping himself, Ryan, and Nancy together felt like a cop-out. “Sorry I didn’t notice something was –”

“Stop.” Shayne glared through heavy eyelids and dark eyebags, as though Elliott’s attempted apology had just cost him at least half of his remaining energy. “You and me don’t do this shit, El.”

“I know, I know.” Elliott grimaced, sliding his hand down under his chin. “But… I understand that Madelyn and Watson made you feel as though hurting yourself like this made you strong, but it doesn’t. In fact, it weakens the whole group.”

Shayne’s shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor again.

“I mean, look at us.” Elliott gestured to the room. “We’re all supposed to be out training now, but instead, I’m holding a bucket for you, while Ryan heats up chicken broth.”

“I-I know,” Shayne whimpered. “I fuck everything up, El, you don’t think I know that? I take up too much fucking space, I –”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s – no,” Elliott snapped. He moved forward on the sofa, tilting his head in the hopes Shayne would look him in the eye at some point. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you –” What? What was he trying to say, exactly? Elliott rubbed at his head again, as though he could warm up his thoughts and make them flow more easily through his mouth. “If you take better care of yourself, it’s not you being selfish. It’s helping to –”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Shayne sighed and folded his arms over his knees. His stomach gurgled loudly, and he let out a small whimper. “Is… Ryan really making me food?” he mumbled.

“Yeah…” Elliott cleared his throat, face still ablaze from his attempt to be of some comfort. “You don’t have to think about it like that, though. In her mind, she’s whipping up a form of medication for you. She loves that shit.”

There was another buzz. Elliott only paused briefly, anxiety clenching his throat. He knew he wasn’t the best with words, but there were things he wished he could get through Shayne’s head.

“Ryan knows you have to eat, even if she doesn’t...” The buzzing went off again, this time a couple of times in quick succession. Elliott sighed, his determination wavering. “Is that your phone, going crazy?”

Shayne groaned under his breath and nodded. “Charlie...”

“Does he know what’s happening?” Elliott asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer. If Charlie had known about this, he would have found a way to rip a hole in time and space so that he could come here and make Shayne put some food in his stupid face.

“’Course not.” Shayne slid a shaky hand through the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled his phone out. “Can you just… tell him I’m alive?”

“Sure, man.” Elliott took hold of the device, surprised to hear Shayne actually ask for his help with something. He activated the screen, and his eyes went wide at the number that sat alongside Charlie’s name. “Holy shit, he’s sent you forty-five unopened messages.”

“Mmm. Trying to read ‘em was makin’ me dizzy.”

Elliott shook his head, not remarking on the fact that any activity would make anyone dizzy after going for days without food.

He wet his lips, anxiously hesitating to open the chat bubble. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted anyone looking into his and Felix’s conversation, even if they had good reason. He did his best not to let his eyes linger over Charlie’s frantic words, although he couldn’t help noticing the over-use of question marks and exclamation points.

-          Hello, Charlie.

Shayne didn’t eat anything over the past few days. We’re sorting him out now, he’s going to be fine. Sorry if you were worried.

Elliott.

The typing symbol flashed up next to Charlie’s name, then disappeared. It appeared and vanished again a few more times before a message eventually popped up, shorter than Elliott had expected.

-          Do I need to come??

Elliott pursed his lips at the question, and the added urgency of the second question mark. He reckoned his own reaction would be the same, if it was Felix who wasn’t doing well. He’d want to drop everything and be there. But it also seemed that the townhouse was a hotbed of discomfort for Charlie, thanks to all the demon-repellent artefacts that Nancy owned.

He glanced up as he heard Ryan approaching, holding a ceramic bowl in one hand as she walked through the living room doorway. “Nancy would be distraught if she knew that there was food in here, but what she doesn’t know shall not harm her.”

Shayne groaned as the smell of the food began to waft through the room. Elliott quickly tapped out a reply to Charlie, forgoing both greeting and signature in favour of just providing the necessary information.

-          We’re taking care of it.

He shoved Shayne's phone into his own pocket and put out his hands to take the bowl from Ryan. She handed it over, and Elliott began to wonder if Shayne would even be able to feed himself. Or even if he’d be willing to. He attempted to pass the bowl across to Shayne’s lap, but his fingers were digging into his knees.

“Shayne,” Ryan said, still standing upright and maintaining her signature expressionless demeanour, “you may not be sworn onto the Aldridge name, but you are under my care, and I don’t intend to throw you out."

Elliott heard Shayne swallow thickly, right before his stomach gave a miserable grumble. He shifted on the sofa.

“Nor do I intend to let you starve yourself.”

She crouched down where Elliott had positioned himself earlier, staring Shayne dead in the eyes. Hers were golden and ablaze with an anger that the rest of her face didn’t betray. Elliott shuddered as he remembered the first few times he'd been on the receiving end of that stare. "I expect you to try harder to follow my guidelines. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes,” Shayne stammered, and once again, Elliott had to wonder if it was another trauma response. Ryan wasn’t Madelyn, but she sure could sound scary if she wasn’t careful.

Before she got up and left, Ryan briefly laid a hand on Shayne's shoulder. "Take care of him, Elliott. I have several phone calls to make."

"I - alright..." Elliott watched her leave through the doorway on the opposite side of the room, and heard her take the stairs that led to her study.

Shayne pressed a hand to where she'd touched him, eyes glazing over again like they had when he'd been talking about Madelyn earlier. A touch on the shoulder was basically Ryan's version of a hug, but Elliott was doubtful that Shayne had picked up on that.

He felt Shayne's phone vibrate, and he pulled it out to quickly check it. His last message to Charlie had been about taking care of Shayne, and Charlie’s response was:

-          Yeah. Please, do.

Elliott knew Shayne and Charlie’s generation usually meant business when they used punctuation in message form. It was also hard to forget how terrifying Charlie could be when Shayne’s wellbeing was at stake. He put the phone away and drew a steadying breath.

“Let’s get at least a little food in you, alright? Otherwise, I’m pretty sure your Charlie’s going to kill me.”

[lire-casander]

from wedding bells to private hells (to fresh new starts and wish you wells)

[8,435 words] [mature] [beta'ed by @meloingly] [title from wildfire by marianas trench] [tk strand, carlos reyes, mitchell, alex] [alternate universe — canon divergence, angst, past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past gaslighting, past manipulation, switching pov, spoilers for s02e12, firehouse fight scene, past suicidal ideation, mentions of past drug use, mentions of past drug abuse, vomiting, past dub-con (not between tarlos), past non-con (not between tarlos), weird structure, past emotional manipulation] [written as part of my lire’s 20 for the 20th]

[carlos has noticed that tk doesn't really like being touched, in any way]

a/n #1: this is structured purposefully in a way that could be confusing. carlos' pov is chronologically progressing from the first events of the show onwards. tk's pov is reversed from the last memory he has of being in nyc backwards. this fic depicts moments and scenes that could be potentially triggering and/or upsetting. please read the warnings and heed them. curate your own fandom experience and take care of yourselves.

a/n #2: this is canon divergence. in this fic alex and tk manage to live together before the debacle, and carlos and tk never hook up although they're friends and carlos wants nothing more than to give tk a hug.

a/n #3: this is my own take on several events canon-wise. i'm not saying that i believe the things i write about could have happened — maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. this isn’t me trying to paint characters under a bad light or infantilizing them. this is a work of fiction about characters i do not own, depicting scenes 

sometimes, life throws us a curve ball that we can't dodge. it's in those moments when our strength is put to test, and sometimes we believe that there’s no saving grace for us. this is me processing curve balls through characters i love. this is me trying to make sense of a world that keeps spinning despite everything.  this is me telling myself that hope is still something everyone should have. this is me telling myself that everyone's worthy of love. 

this one? this one’s for me.

from wedding bells to private hells (to fresh new starts and wish you wells) 

Carlos doesn’t notice something’s wrong until the first real date he shares with TK. Up to that moment, they've seen each other fleetingly during calls, the sassy firefighter transfer from New York City catching his eye and his breath every single time. It becomes so evident that Carlos is infatuated by TK Strand that even Mitchell points it out one night when they're both out having drinks with Michelle. Carlos asking TK to dance was a given; him asking TK on a date was a dream.

Somehow, in between picking at the nachos they've ordered and assassinating the board with their missing darts, TK's grown more and more comfortable with him. He’s even complained to Carlos about Judd Ryder — as if Cowboy Judd was anything but a good man with a misplaced sense of duty. Carlos has thought that everything was going down smoothly, that maybe this time he might get lucky enough to steal a kiss and maybe more — although he isn’t averse to just holding hands. Something in his gut tells him that TK is worth every single second of every single day, and Carlos has always been a fighter. This time, he's convinced he will get at least onto the path to a happy ending.

They finish their game — Carlos letting TK win surreptitiously — and he moves to the bar to order another round of drinks. When he comes back with an iced tea for TK and a Coke for him, he finds the firefighter deep in thought as he stares at the screen of his cell phone.

"Everything alright, TK?" he questions easily, dropping the two glasses carefully on the table they've secured. He watches as TK flinches slightly and quickly ushers the device back into his pocket.

"Yeah," he says faintly. "Everything’s peachy. But I'm parched," he quickly changes subjects as he reaches for the tea and lifts it to his lips. Carlos lets the subject die, but he still watches closely for any sign of distress during the rest of their date.

When it’s time to drive TK safely home like the Southern gentleman his mama raised, Carlos guides him outside and back to the Camaro. Once they're away from privy eyes, Carlos decides to take a leap of faith and slowly he reaches out, inch by inch, his pinky almost touching TK’s skin. When he doesn’t see any bad reaction from TK, he reaches out further and covers TK’s palm with his own hand, ready to intertwine their fingers.

To say TK has a knee-jerk reaction is to fall short on the definition.

TK jumps a few feet away from Carlos when their hands touch, and he looks up at Carlos with a look that reminds him of a deer caught in headlights. He mutters an apology, rubbing his hands together as though trying to get rid of the memory of Carlos touching him — Carlos isn’t sure about what hurts the most, whether it’s the lack of response in the beginning or the overt rejection to his pretty well-founded desire to tighten the relationships between firefighters and police officers.

TK slides into the car in complete silence, and the drive back to the place he shares with his father is a complete nightmare for Carlos. TK spends most of the time pointedly looking out the window, and the rest staring at his hands as though he'd want to cut them off. Carlos doesn’t even have the time to kill the engine before the firefighter is out of the car, mumbling a suffocated thank you for tonight with a fake smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Carlos remains on the driveway for a few more minutes, trying to figure out where exactly this leaves them, but he gives up when he realizes this isn’t a fight he wants to enter head-first. Then, with a defeated sigh, he starts the engine once again and joins the traffic.

He finds no reason whatsoever as to why TK has turned from the cool kid Carlos needs in his life to the shell of a person in the time span of a date. And that's what prevents him from sleeping properly that night.

keep reading on ao3

[moral-turpitudes]

Deal with the Devil: Ch. 7

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Fighting, Blood, Descriptions of Death, Fluff, and Explicit/18+ Content at the end (Indicated by **).

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Isla Maxwell (OC)

Word Count: 3,953

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | *7* | 8 | 9 | 10

When it came to matters of the head and the heart, his aunt Polly always told him his heart was weakest. Knowing that one pretty face could render him useless in an instant. He’d also been plagued with having his fathers temper and his mother’s wit, often causing an internal war as he fought against the two.

Heeding Polly’s comments, he ultimately chose his weakness. Therefore, deciding to write the letter as soon as he and the children got home the next morning, telling her where to meet him and when. Keeping her name all to himself no matter how many times his family pestered him about it.

As the date neared, Thomas decided on dark suit, along with wearing his peaky cap and dusty black coat as usual. The one thing that was different though was the finger that once held his gold wedding band. It felt lighter as the rings imprint caused a red band to form around his finger, the last remaining mark of what he once had.

Meanwhile, Isla decided on a black dress and tweed coat, nothing to garner too much attention, or so she’d hoped.

After stepping out of her quaint apartment, she drove to the address in the letter. It was a few miles out, in Small Heath. The dark area giving off a haunting feeling that seemed almost calming to her cold heart. Once parked, the Garrison’s doors beckoned her as she neared the place, her stomach doing flips as she entered.

It was a bit packed for the evening as she adjusted to the rowdiness of the crowd. The yelling and the sharp sound of glasses breaking reminding her of why she didn’t go out much in the first place. But she figured it was better this way despite her uneasiness, considering she did her best work at night.

“Hello miss! Can I get you a drink? The bartender asked loudly as she stood at the end of the bar surrounded by drunken men.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic please.” She said, feeling slightly over dressed for the local pub.

“Here you are. On the house.” He said, disappearing further down the bar before she could ask him why.

“I.” A deep voice called from near her.

Her stomach dropped as she downed her drink and nervously turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd to see a man she didn’t recognize, only confirming her fears.

“Who are you?” She asked, her eyes glaring at him as she felt for her gun.

“Easy now. You didn’t think I’d just let you go to town without me...especially after what happened with those men.” The man said, walking towards her with a menacing smile.

Instead of screaming and causing a scene, she decided to play a little game, knowing this wasn’t the first time someone tried to take her down at her leisure.

“Right. How about we go outside, love. It’ll make this a little more fun.” She said, taking his hand roughly and leading him out the door. Not many people were outside but too many were near for her liking.

“Let’s go over here it’s more quiet.” She said, leading him to an alley.

The man kissed her suddenly, shoving her against the cold brick walls as she struggled to grab his wrists.

“Now...I’m just taking what my friends didn’t get to have. You see “I”......we know who you are. Soon enough Mosley will too, so it’s either you face me or him.” He said. She giggled in his ear as he said that, earning a hard slap to her face. After a moment, she spit out blood, speaking softly as her busted lip stung furiously.

“You’re all the same, one more stupid than the other no matter how many of you I kill. Tell me sweetheart...When I kill him, will the rest of you die too? You seem to all share the same brain.” She said as the blood dripped down her mouth.

As she smirked at his offended expression, she decided to distract him with a frantic kiss. Causing him to loosen his grip enough to where she could break free. In a swift motion she came up behind him to twist his arm almost enough to fracture it. His yells filling the air as people around them turned their heads. He begged for her to let go, but she continued as she worked her way to gradually putting him in a chokehold.

“He’ll have to do better. Because this was a sorry excuse, love.” She said, hearing him gasp in pain as she loosened her grip slightly, placing her arm around his head and cradling his chin with her other hand.

In the distance, Thomas saw the scuffle but got there only in time to see her swiftly breaking the mans neck, the few patrons nearby scattering away.

“Isla...” He said quietly, watching as her face turned blank. Barely registering the blood on her face as she dragged the man up to where he was leaning against the wall.

“Don’t talk to me Thomas.” She said, a cold look in her eyes as she spat the words at him. Reaching to retrieve the guys wallet and anything else he had on him, including a valuable looking pocket watch.

“Who was that?” He asked, noticing the bleeding cut on her lip and the red handprint on her cheek. His jaw clenching as he stared at the man who hit her.

“Just another one of Mosley’s men. But you knew that didn’t you?” She asked, angrily.

“No...” He said shortly, grabbing her arm lightly.

She shoved his hand off her arm and forcefully twisted it, shoving her gun to his head in the process. Her fiery gaze boring into him.

“Tell me how one of his fucking followers knew I was here you god damn bastard or I’ll shoot you without batting an eye.” She said, her eyes blazing as she clicked the gun.

“I haven’t told anyone the plan except my family because they deserve to know. I know Mosley’s been here in the past but we’ve never taken out all his men. He must’ve followed you.” He said calmly, not even flinching at the sound of the gun, nor his hand being twisted.

“Do you swear?” She asked.

“On my mum’s grave I do. This is too big of a deal for me to fuck this up. You of all people should know that.” He said quietly. Grabbing the gun quickly before she could think to fire it.

“Can’t have you shooting everyone.” He said, ushering her towards the pub.

“Oh fuck off!” She said going towards the washroom as Thomas stood near the bar.

Arthur came up, confusion evident on his face.

“S’that the writer Tommy boy?” He asked, already tipsy.

“Yes Arthur. Yes it is.” He said, staring at the door waiting for her to come out. Arthur laughed and patted him on the back, leaving the second oldest Shelby to his “date.”

As minutes passed, he decided to go in to check on her but the lock on the door stopped him in his tracks. With a loud knock, he spoke. The drunken patrons making it harder to hear.

“Can I come in?”

“I said fuck off.” She yelled, the faucet running as she cleaned off her mouth, the water turning a familiar shade of red as she did so.

But not a moment later she heard the lock being messed with.

“Being your partner sucks Tommy.” She said as he managed to unlock it, waltzing right in.

“How the hell did you get a key?” She asked, not looking in his direction and wincing slightly as she stitched the small wound on her lip closed, a bottle of whiskey near her that she snagged from one of the tables.

He leant against the counter as she finished up, taking a sip of the whiskey before speaking.

“The Shelby’s own this bar love, I have keys to almost every place in Birmingham it seems.” He said fiddling with it in his hand.

“Have you come to kill me or to apologize?” She asked, wincing again as she took the bottle from him, taking a swig of the brown liquid.

“If I was going to kill you I would’ve shot you as you walked away from me.” He said, sweeping a stray hair from her forehead as she finished up her stitches. The sudden contact leaving goosebumps on her skin that she tried to hide by adjusting her coat.

“In all honesty, I truly don’t know who that man was or why Mosley would be putting people after you, but if you need help next time please don’t handle it yourself.” He said.

“I’ve pretty much handled all this myself, so I think I’m doing just fine.” She said, looking at him as he smirked.

“And I don’t know how you don’t know this yet, but I’ve had people after me for quite a while now so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s finally catching on. Maybe Mosley and his sheep want to play our little game after all.” She said, taking the bottle from him and putting her gun back in her holster.

“So this is it then?” He asked.

“Yes. I’ll see you at the next meeting, Tommy.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking out the door.

As she stormed through the Garrison, she didn’t bother to notice his brother Arthur, who practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

“My god Tom. If you haven’t found your person yet I think you just did.” He said taking a shot.

“Christ Arthur.... I need you to stop fucking drinking and get Johnny and them out here. She killed a man in the alley and we need him taken care of. Now.” He said quickly, trying to keep up with her as she walked out to her car.

“Wait...” He yelled as he got closer.

She stopped in her tracks and sighed, the cigarette smoke escaping her lips as she turned around.

“What? Come to see me off?” She asked as he walked closer.

“Just making sure you’re alright.” He said.

“You worry too much Thomas Shelby. I’m going home, either leave me be or get in.” She said, getting into the drivers side and starting the car.

“You’re not safe. If we’re going to be working together I’m going to need you safe.”

“You don’t understand....You’re just as safe as I am.” She said, adjusting her mirror.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, putting his hand lazily on the roof of the car.

“Jesus Christ Tommy... Get in before I run you over.” She said, rolling her eyes and patting the seat next to her.

Thomas sighed and stomped out his cigarette, mumbling to himself as he got in.

“You talking to yourself?” She asked.

“I was just saying a prayer in case you planned to kill me, love.” He answered sarcastically, shutting the door as she drove off. The streets growing empty as the night drug on.

“If I wanted to kill you I would’ve done it already Tommy....What I was saying though, was that this is all very simple.” She said, her eyes straining to see in the dark.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, lighting another cigarette.

“You kill bad people, and I kill bad people. We both have the same motive...and we both have something others want. The people after me want revenge. What do the people after you want, Tommy?” She asked.

He thought for a moment, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Knowing he was a wanted man for many reasons.

“To kill me I suppose...to finally take my crown.” He said quietly. Isla smirked as she glanced at him before returning her eyes to the road.

“Exactly. Both of those are a deadly combination. If I’m not safe even getting a drink at my leisure then how are you guaranteed to be safe? You’re working with me, so you took this risk. Therefore, you’re in just as much danger...tell me Tommy...” She said, mentally counting down the street signs until they got near her apartment.

“What?” He asked.

“Do you and your blinders have enough security?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“What about your children? Are they protected?” She asked.

She could feel the tension in the air as she waited for an answer. A sigh escaping his lips before speaking.

“How’d you fucking know about them aye?” He asked, his eyes darting to hers.

“I do my research Thomas. When I’m not killing, that’s what I do.” She said.

“Also, I just had a sneaky suspicion because your ring finger still has an impression of a wedding band on it. Trouble in paradise?” She asked with a coy smile as she parked the car.

Thomas scoffed and got out, walking quickly over to her.

“Not so fast. Can’t have you seen out here.” She said, placing a firm hand against his chest and ushering him back towards her apartment. He followed her up the stairs as the anger rose in his chest. As soon as she opened the door, he closed it behind them, locking it.

“How’d you find out about that? Was it your little mail man? He’s been a regular at the shop recently. Bet you didn’t think he’d let things slip about you now aye?” He said, inching closer to her.

She grabbed her knife from her coat, stalking towards him as she spun it between her fingers.

“Oh so you’re just going to throw theories around? I knew about your children because my men are good at what they do. They’ve watched in shifts just to make sure you weren’t some scheming bastard because this town is full of them! You probably didn’t see them watching when you said goodbye to your little Ruby and Charlie at your aunts huh Tommy?” She asked, her eyes piercing his again.

“Leave them out of this. I’ll call this off and expose you.” He said, clenching his fists.

“Did you think you could just send your mail man and not expect my men to check him? What’s the fuckers name? Jay? He’s a rat and you know it.” He said harshly.

“No he’s not. I made him promise. I made him swear himself to secrecy and anyone who crosses me knows they’ll be dead for breaking that promise.” She said, her breathing speeding up as she dropped the knife, turning away from him. Her eyes brimming with tears and widening at the sudden realization.

“What?” He asked, seeing her emotions leaving her features as she became lost in thought. She paced away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes before she spoke. Avoiding his angry gaze in the process.

“He told them where I was...He told that bastard where my fathers friend lived...He told that man at the pub where I’d be...” She said, thinking about how he gladly accepted his paycheck and then hadn’t returned. She knew they didn’t check in often, but he was always so keen on being more friendly than the others. But she couldn’t believe how careless she’d been, how she couldn’t see the rat when he was right in front of her.

“He may be the dumbest man on this planet.” She said, still averting her eyes from his and wiping a stray tear from her cheek. With a sigh, she quickly grabbed her gun from her holster and unlocked the door.

Thomas followed her down the hall and to an unsuspecting apartment, listening to her pound on it in a weird sequence and jiggling the lock.

“Open up!” She yelled. The hall was silent as the tension grew between the two complexes.

“Move.” Thomas said quickly, taking a few steps back and heading towards the door. With a loud slam it flew open, nearly sending him falling to the floor.

“Thanks.” She said, walking past him as he watched.

“What the fu-“ Jay started to say from his living room as Isla shot him, her bullet going straight through his skull. She stood there for a moment after lowering it, the apartment eerily silent as she looked at the mess. Thomas following quickly behind as she inspected the other rooms.

“Alright...well the other two aren’t here. Did your men manage to get any dirt on them?” She asked, wiping the blood off her face and smearing it on her dress as she walked back to her room.

“I haven’t, no. He was the only one who seemed off.” He said, closing the door over before following her.

“I guess it’s the people who know you the best who end up betraying you.” She said looking down at the blood on her hands, not caring about the body next door or the man before her.

“I don’t care where you sit, just don’t get blood on anything alright?” She asked, walking into her restroom to rid herself of the blood. After washing up, she quickly pulled on a nightgown and satin robe that covered her arms, still self conscious of the scar.

Thomas had taken his coat off and undid his tie and arm cuffs, sitting them next to him on the sofa.

“So, Isla...Why did you want me here in the first place? To argue and watch you kill people?” He asked, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

She smirked as she sat next to him, leaning towards him so he could light hers as well.

“I just wanted to see if you would, and considering you weren’t going to leave me alone until I explained things to you. I figured I’d invite you over. Didn’t think you’d accept though.” She said, staring at the ceiling as she blew out the clouds of smoke.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled.

“So...are we good? No more secrets?” She asked, after a moment of awkward silence.

“No more secrets.” He said.

“You don’t have to worry about your family either. The other two men are very reliable. I am down a man though...” She said, a nervous tension hitting her as she realized this was the closest she’d been with a man in some time without killing him.

“If you want, we could assign some of the blinders to look out here while your two look out over in Small Heath.” He said.

“Deal.” She said, turning towards him. He had relaxed into the sofa, his eyes on her as she looked down at her cigarette. He couldn’t help but notice his eyes wandering over her body, shrouded in black silk that must’ve cost a small fortune.

“It would be nice to have at least one person I can trust here ya know...Just one night of sleeping peacefully.” She said.

“I could stay...” He said softly, his voice more gentle than it had been a while ago during their argument.

“Well fuck I guess you have to, considering I drove you here.” She said chuckling.

“That is true.” He said with a small grin. It had been a while since he’d smiled. Which felt foreign to him ever since meeting Grace.

“So is this like a second date then?” She asked, getting up to pour them both a glass of whiskey.

“I’d say so. No business now. Just drinking.” He said.

“Right, and no fucking.” She said smirking, handing him his glass.

“No fucking? I don’t remember that being one of your conditions.” He said as they clinked glasses.

“I was just joking on that part, love.” She said, looking at him with honest eyes.

He sat his glass down and met her gaze, glancing at all the intricate details of her thin robe and silk nightgown.

“And you called me bold aye?” He asked, moving towards her as she sat down.

Isla’s heart was beating out of her chest at what she’d said, feeling Tommy pulling her closer to him as she kissed him carefully to avoid hurting her lip.

A/N: **Explicit Content Warning: If you are under 18, please skip the italicized portion and continue to Ch. 8. Thank you.**

With a swift movement Thomas had pulled her on top to where she straddled him. The heat growing between them as she ground into him, only mere pieces of fabric keeping them apart.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she continued, as Tommy’s hands gripped her hips and then ran a hand over her breasts.

“Let’s take this somewhere else...Maybe to a place where I haven’t killed people, love.” She said, breaking apart from his lips for a moment, earning a chuckle from him.

“Alright.” He said, picking her up to where she clung to him. Sucking soft purple spots onto his neck as he laid her on the bed.

With eager fingers they grasped at each other’s clothes, Tommy’s rough hands gently caressing her as he sucked on her neck, soft moans escaping her lips as she felt him move down towards her chest.

Her nipples hardened as he caressed her breasts, leaving soft kisses to them as he moved further to her core, her back arching off the mattress at the sensation. His tongue lapping over the bundle of nerves in circular motions as he trailed down to her opening. Her hips thrusting upwards to meet him as his tongue devoured her. Her moans became louder as she bucked against him, his fingers replacing his tongue as he moved it over her clit. The motion of his fingers increasing as she clenched around him, clutching his tousled hair in the process.

“D-dont stop, Tommy. Please.” She said, her breathing ragged as she came closer. His movements consistent as he watched her come undone before him, her legs trembling at the sudden release.

As she came down, she smiled at him as he kissed her once more, tasting herself on his lips as she pulled him closer. His cerulean eyes gazed into hers as she nodded, giving him permission to continue what she so desperately wanted.

She winced slightly as she took a moment to adjust, soon feeling the pain being replaced with pleasure as she felt him inside her. His thrusts were gentle as he studied her body. Her eyes closed and hands wandering over his chest as he moved in and out, him only growing more aroused as she grew wet around him. He grabbed her hips firmly as he picked up the pace, causing her to claw her way down his chest only to grasp his back as he leaned in closer to her. He peppered her neck with kisses as he sucked eventual bruises onto the skin, her moans growing louder in his ear like a sweet symphony.

As she came closer, he felt her walls clench around him as his thrusts became slower and his breathing became heavier. And with a quick maneuver, he moved her, making her gasp at the sudden loss of contact as he urged her to ride him. He sat up as she straddled him, her hand guiding him into her as she moaned at the familiar feeling. His hands gripping her hips as he guided her down, resting his head against her headboard as he watched her riding his cock. Her breasts bouncing and moans growing louder as she came undone around him, leaning onto his chest as he pulled her close, nearing his own release. With a quick motion, he thrust a couple times before pulling out, just in time for her to pump him until a low moan escaped his lips as he came. Making his breathing ragged until he gained composure. The two of them lying in her bed in a tangled embrace.

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 5

The Lip Sync Battle 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: Growing tensions between you and Chris overflow in the most musical of battles.

Warnings: Profanity, drunken silliness

Notes: Oh my fucking gosh, I fucking finished it! This part was a BEAST to write! It’s hella long so it’ll be in two posts. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

“How about this one?”

“No, not neon enough!”

“Ok…” you hold up another top option, “this one?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Alright. This?“

“Uh—”

“Uggggghhhhh!!!” It’s been 45 minutes of trying to decide on an outfit and your patience is running thin. “I’m this close,” you put up a microscopic amount of space between your pointer finger and thumb, “THIS CLOSE to leaving in my pajamas. Don’t think I won’t do it!”

Your older sister, Lynn, laughs at your dramatics from her spot on the end of your bed in her guestroom. “Oooo won’t the paps love that! I just want to make sure you slay tonight! You never know what Hottie McDotties might be in there…”

You scoff, “I’m trying to be low key tonight and not draw any attention to myself. Tonight is not about me.” You look over to your sister who is distractedly sorting through the pile of clothes that’s accumulated on the bed. “Do you hear me?” 

“I hear what you're saying… I just don’t care. Now c’mon, let’s find you something sexy! I know we’re close!” You and Lynn turn back to your almost empty closet one last time. “What about that furry, hot pink thing?”

“Oh, you mean the jacket I impulse bought with the birthday boy?” You laugh thinking back to that day. It was the day you first met Scott before filming. We were only supposed to go out for lunch, and damn near bought out the whole plaza!

“Yeah, that one! That could be cute.”

“With my black, skin tight leather pants…”

“Your black, sheer and lacy corset top…”

“And the black knee highs to top it off!” You two say simultaneously making you giggle like school girls. You settle into a comfortable silence as you pull out the pieces of your outfit.

“I missed this— these moments with you, big sis. Laughing, being silly— “

“Talking about boys,” she finishes for you. You roll your eyes, but smile in agreement as Lynn continues. “Me too… god, why’d we both have to be successful?” she says mockingly, making you both laugh again. 

“Honestly, the real question is why'd you have to move to Boston?” You asked a lot less like an inquiring adult and more like a pouting toddler. 

It’s Lynn’s turn to roll her eyes as she sighs deeply. “You sound like dad.”  

“You’ve got some nerve,” she starts in a playful tone. “You’re literally the one who is never in one city for more than a day. You being here for these months is unprecedented.” It’s true; your touring schedule made it where you’d been any- and everywhere, except with family as of late.

“Now who sounds like dad.” 

“Sorry, but you opened yourself up for it!”

You huff out a sigh, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lynn hopped up from the bed and headed for the door, “Uh-huh. I’m gonna warm up the car. Be down in 20.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“I wasn’t asking. I was instructing.”

“And I oop— she said she’s being a big sister tonight!” you laughed out as you turned around to start getting dressed, hair and makeup already done. Lynn began to leave the room, rolling her eyes at you not taking her seriously. 

Suddenly, you were met with a pillow to the back of your head. “What the hell!” The sound of your sister running down the hall and laughing maniacally fill the house. “Hey! Not the curls!” you yelled after her, closing the door.

Just then your phone vibrated with a FaceTime call. You went over to it on the dresser and tapped the screen to answer, the view fixed on the ceiling. The screen filled with a visibly excited Scott, his face a little red from excitement, face a little sweaty from dancing. There was music and loud chatter on his end. Shit! He’s already there! I’m late! “Heeelllooooo? Anybody there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you peek one eye into the frame, “I’m getting dressed. What’s up?”

“What’s up is that everybody is here, and you are not,” he tapped his camera for emphasis. 

“I’ll be there soon. Beauty takes time, ya know!” Each sarcastic word accented with a huff and jump to get in your tight pants. “Whew!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott’s eyes peered with genuine curiosity as he sipped a fruity drink.

“I already told you I’m getting dressed.”

“It takes all of that?”

“Listen, as the great philosopher Beyoncé once said, ‘if you don't jump to put jeans on, baby, you don't feel my pain!’ Ok?”

Scott laughed, “OK, yes ma’am!”

“So… who all is there?” Scott knows just what you're asking; if Chris is there. 

Chosing to play dumb and not give you defenitive answer, Scott asks. “Is there anybody in particular you’re looking forward to seeing?”

“More like who I’m not looking forward to seeing…” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” You said for a quick cover, Scott giving you a knowing look. “You know I’m looking forward to seeing your ‘Ma’; I love that y’all call her that. It’s so New England!”

Scott chuckles, “She’s looking forward to seeing you too. She calls you her ‘lovely lunch buddy’.” Being close with Scott on set meant that you’d gotten to meet his mom. She’d taken a liking to you after joining you and Scott for lunch one day, and started joining you as often as she could.  

“Awwww, she’s too sweet! I’m gonna let you go now; I gotta finish getting cute for her.”

“Only her?” Scott said with a smirk. Please… Chris could kiss my a—

“Only her. I’ll see you later Scott, and happy birthday for the gazillionth time!”

“Thanks love, see you later!”

With one last fluff of your fro, pop of your lipstick, and once over in the mirror, and you felt ready. Collecting your phone and bag, you headed out for the night.

——————————————————————————

“Sooo....” Lynn turned the down the music as she drove. “How do you feel about possibly seeing you-know-who tonight?” The eyeroll and groan that escaped you were almost involuntary. “What?! It wouldn’t be far fetched; it IS his brother’s birthday.”

“I know, but… do we have to talk about him? I just wanna have a good time tonight,” you whined, throwing your head back on your seat.

“You already know the answer to that.” You let out a long sigh. You hadn’t seen Chris since your game night tell-off a few weeks back, and as much as you tried to forget about him and how you lost your cool, not talking about it was starting to gnaw at you, especially knowing it was only a matter of time before you saw him again. “So, how are we feeling?”

“I…” you took a breath, “I can’t help but feel annoyed! Like, sure I ignored his apology attempts, but he’s the one that passed unfounded judgments on ME. How the hell does that make me a diva? God I hate that word! You know how that word just triggers me,” Lynn nods in response, letting you continue. “And you know what's the most annoying part of it all?”

‘What?”

“Mackie and Scott talk about him incessantly. How smart he is, how caring he is, how fun he is. I mean, I saw it, when we met in New York. But I haven't seen it since. We’re their friends, so I get what they're trying to do, but at some point, like, give it up. It’s obviously not working, nor will it ever.” You let out a sound of frustration, “I don’t know what to do. Do I keep it to myself for the sake of our mutual friendships, or—”

“Be the diva he thinks you are?” You know Lynn is joking, but that’s not a bad idea… I mean, he already thinks it of me, might as well have some fun with it…  Lynn looks over to see you mischievously smiling into the Boston night and she begins to fear for the idea she’s just given you. “Oh God,” she mutters.

You look at her with a goofy grin and shrug. “What?” you try to say innocently.

“C’mon! Don’t actually consider that! Look, you weren’t expecting to see him last time, and that’s probably why it didn’t go so well. But now that you are, you can show up as the composed, level-headed woman I know is somewhere in that thick, thick skull of yours.” You give her no indication that you’ll heed her advice and she can tell. “Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she half laughs out.

The car comes to a stop in front of the venue and you check the time. 30 minutes after the invitation time, not TOO bad. You arrived at Majesty’s, a unique, swanky lounge in a trendy area of Boston you’ve never been before. I’ll have to come back and explore sometime. You lean over to give your sister a quick hug, thanking her for dropping you off, then briskly make for the curbside entrance, needing to escape the nippy Boston air. 

Once inside, you’re warmed by neon lights that illuminate the otherwise dim room. To your right is a full-service bar with a plethora of drink options on the wall behind it. Tables staggered up the middle of the room lead to a medium sized dancefloor just before a stage. Velvet curtains hang at the back wall behind a neon sign of the venue's logo. The place is packed. It is Saturday night after all. Music and conversation buzz around you as you scan the room looking for your friends.

“Hi there!” a cheery hostess approaches, her face beat to the gods, making you wish you’d opted for more makeup yourself. “Here with Scott Evans’ party?”

“Yeah! How’d you know?” She gives you a weird look, as if to say, ‘you're joking, right?’. It dawns on you that she knows who you are, hence why she knows who you’re here to see.

“Right…” It’ll be awhile before I get used to people recognizing me.

“HeeeEEeey!! There she is!” You hear Mackie’s voice but aren’t sure where it’s coming from. The hostess points up to a balcony where Mackie is hanging over the railing, flailing his arms to get your attention. 

The hostess escorts you to your party, leading you through the tables on the main floor. The walk there is spent with her talking about how “tonight is like the Oscars” because she’s “never seen so many big stars in one place” but she assures you she “isn’t a creepy fan” and that there’s a no recording policy for guests’ privacy. You smile and nod politely, but you’re not fully listening to her. You’re too in your head wondering if one of those “big stars” is Chris. You’re led up a staircase near the dancefloor that takes you to a roped off VIP balcony area where you can overlook the entire venue.

You give hello’s to the people in the section; some you know from set, but most are Scott’s longtime friends you’ve never met. Feeling a bit shy, you look for a familiar face when Mackie pulls you into a bear hug. “How ya doing, Kid? I’m glad you came out tonight!” You could be reading too far into it, but it feels like he means ‘glad you came despite the possibility Chris will be here.’ You suppress your urge to give a look of disdain and just smile and avert your gaze around the section. You notice that Chris isn’t there, or at least not yet, and you’re not sure if that makes you uneasy or not. Relax girl.

You still haven’t decided on what your disposition towards Chris will be tonight, but needed to choose quickly to get in the right headspace. Before you could process what was happening, you were whisked up into a hug by Lisa. Shit. I can’t be salty to him with his mother here. She’s so sweet. Ugh, guess it’s decided.

“How’s my lovely lunch buddy doing?” she asks with a genuine smile and kind eyes. 

You chuckle at the title she’s given you. “I’m doing great! How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here! Now we can get this party started!” She does a “raise the roof” motion with her hands as she bobs her head causing you to raise your brows. It would be a sure way to embarrass her children, but just makes you laugh. “I should stop before the birthday boy kicks me out,” she laughs out.

“Where is Scott by the way?”

“Oh, he should be around here somewhere...” she scans the section, squinting her eyes with her index finger tapping her upper lip. “There he is!” she points to a corner on the other side. You follow her finger to see a glittery Scott, adorned in a birthday hat and sash. He’s in conversation with a brown-haired woman, the pair laughing and slapping their knees.

As you approach, you notice someone else on the velvet cushion with them, but not at all in the conversation. Sat next to them is Chris, eyes fixed on you, expression blank. It was a matter of time. You tense up, clenching your jaw and holding his gaze.

When you reach them, you embrace Scott. “You look great!” he compliments your outfit and you give a couple poses to show it off.

“Thanks, it’s just a lil somethin’, somethin’ I threw together! Remember this jacket?”

“Yeah! You blew, what? Like, eight hun—”

“Shhh…” you stop him before he could blow up your spot, “Let’s not talk about it. Not the best show of my judgement.” Everyone laughs, except Chris who just scoffs and shakes his head unamused, making your laughter dissipate. 

“We all have those moments of weakness. Hi, I’m Shanna,” she greets with a handshake.

“Yes, she is my youngest, and this is my other son Chris. Chris honey, this is—“

“We’ve met, Ma,” he offers a fake but polite smile, one you just know he wouldn’t have if his mother wasn’t right there.

“Oh, really? When?” There’s a beat of silence that’s only uncomfortable for you and Chris as you both go through your brief, sordid history silently.

“At an industry thing not too long ago,” you offer, not meeting Chris’ eyes.

“Of course, I often forget that that world is even smaller than the real world,” Lisa chuckles. “I hope he was on his best behavior!” Chris looks up at you in panic, a look that says you wouldn’t rat me out to my mom, would you? You know she’s only joking, but the opportunity is too good to pass up on.

“Well, actually,’ you turn to Lisa as she looks at you quizzically, “He’s quite the rascal on the dancefloor; get a couple of Stella’s in him, could out dance the Rockettes!” the group laughs heartily, clearly knowing the truth of your words. Chris laughs nervously but is slightly relieved you didn’t reveal the truth of his behavior towards you since you two met. “But he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman,” you say, looking at Chris with a facetious smile. He’s clenching his teeth into a pained smile himself.

“Really?” Scott says, ready to call you on your BS, “‘cos game night was kinda… intense. Or am I remembering it wrong?”

“Well, a little trash talk never hurt anybody,” Chris states while sipping his drink. And just like that, a silent pact was made between the two of you; to be cordial for the sake of all involved. Maybe there’s no need for the diva disposition after all…

“Right…” Scott is unconvinced, but is too in party mode to press on. Turning to you now, Scott asks, “How’s the soundtrack stuff coming along?”

“So great! I actually just got the final mix for the song I did with Miguel in New York, and I gotta say, it smells like a hit!”

“Oooo! And I bet it is! You’re literally a hit machine, am I right?” Shanna hits Chris’ arm seeking endorsement from him. He just raises his brows and shrugs as if to say, ‘yeah, sure, whatever’.

Scott isn’t amused by his brother’s disinterest. “Oh, don’t act so unimpressed! She’s literally an award-winning artist! Just the other day, you were literally—”

“Ok, Scott, that’s.... sheesh,” Chris interrupts what sounds like would’ve been a great story. “It’s not that, just that I don’t believe in creating to get awards; I believe you should create for the love of it.”

“I agree,” you chime in. “Even though I put my art out into the world for consumption, it doesn’t make or break me if others applaud it or not. What’s most important is that I do.”

“But you gotta admit it feels good,” Shanna taunts with a grin.

“Sure... but, I don't know… I love what I do so much, I'd do it even  if no one gave a damn. Hell, I have for years! Only recently the recognition started rolling in. And, not to sound self-loathing or anything, but it’s been… a challenge dealing with it all. I kinda miss the days when nobody knew my name.”

Lisa nudges Chris with her elbow, “She sounds like you.” He was thinking the same thing. “How’s filming going? You guys are on Harvard campus, right?”

“Mostly, yeah. It’s kinda funny being back at a college. I kinda forgot what it was like, but memories of those years have just been flooding back.”

“All those fond memories of studying coming back to ya, huh?” Chris digs. Walked into that one. 

Before you could form a petty rebuttal, Mackie called Chris over. Soon after, Shanna and Lisa excuse themselves, leaving you and Scott in the corner. 

Scott checked his phone for the time, “Ooo it’s almost time for my performance!”

“Performance?”

“Yeah there’s lip syncing!”

“Lip syncing? Not karaoke?”

“I asked that too. Apparently the owner was tired of hearing drunk people screech and butcher songs.”

“Understandable. What are you gonna perform?”

“I’m thinking ‘Birthday’ by Selena Gomez, but then there’s also ‘Birthday’ by Katy Perry, so I’m torn.”

“Both great choices! And I’m fully prepared to join you for either, do a little back up, whatever you need.”

“Uh-uh, nope.”

“Whaa— why not?” you put your hands on your hips.

“Because you’re a professional performer. You will get up there and literally intimidate anyone else from giving it a try and having some fun.” A pout was all you could muster as a response. “Oh don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true. Take a backseat tonight, ok?”

“Fine, whatever.” It wasn’t fine, but you did want to keep a low profile tonight. Performing would be the exact opposite of that.

“Thanks, love!” Scott gave you a hug, which you didn’t reciprocate out of feigned annoyance. “So, what the hell was that? With you and Chris?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, hoping he’d drop it.

“Well, I know that you two had some... words, and you’re not super fond of him even though you won’t say it out loud, and—” he paused to collect his confusion. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Tonight isn’t about you two acting hella weird towards each other. Tonight is about my favorite people coming together and enjoying being around each other. Even if they’re faking it.”

“Yes, exactly!” relieved you don’t have to talk about it any further.

“Wanna know something?” You slightly raise your brows. “The other day, I caught Chris not just listening, but dancing to your music. I mean full on rocking out to it!” Scott laughs.

Your face heats up at the thought, but you play it off like you don’t care. “So?”

“So, you’ve obviously been on his mind. And if I know my brother, I think he wants to make things right but doesn’t know how. He may just be nervous.” You just sigh and look over to Chris and Mackie across the way, roughhousing one another and laughing. If he was nervous, it’s not like you made it any easier with your actions toward him. “He’s a good man. Silly, and sometimes stupid, but good nonetheless.” Maybe we did just get off on the wrong foot…

Some of Scott’s other friends pull him into conversation, and you make your way to the bar to get some libations to sort out your thoughts.

——————————————————————————

“And that’s when I said ‘Sis, what are you doing?’” The group crowded around drinks laughed at Jaden’s story from set, something about how you got stuck under some bleachers or something. Chris wasn’t listening. He’d long tuned out the cringey storyteller. Instead, his attention was with where you were with his mother across the way, deep in conversation. 

You sat with your legs crossed, hands moving around animatedly. Chris looks you up from the heels of your knee highs, to your shiny leather clad thighs, your lacy corset that leaves just enough to the imagination and shows off your collar bone, any man’s subconscious weakness. Goddamn.

“Careful of those wandering eyes,” Chris turned to see Mackie handing him one of the two beers in his hands.

“I don’t remember asking for this.”

“It’s to quench your obvious thirst.” Mackie motions his head in the direction Chris had been staring for the past 15 minutes; in your direction.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m not ‘thirsting’ over her,” he takes a sip of the drink, “and I think you’ve been hanging out with those kids on set a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Mackie chuckles, taking a sip himself, “but you know I’m not wrong.”

“She’s not even my type.”

“‘Your type?’ Since when do you have a type?”

“I have a type,” Chris tries to defend himself. “Kind, humorous, humble…”

“She’s literally all of those things!” Chris just offers him a side-eye in response. “Look, I don’t know what happened between New York and now—”

“Cos nothing really happened! So what, we had a good time when we hung out once. Means nothing. Not to me, and obviously not to her.”

“You couldn’t be further from the truth my man.” Chris looks from Mackie to you. “She’ll surprise you if you let her.” I hoped she would.

——————————————————————————

“Ladies and gentleman!” A loud voice, booms from the PA system, commanding everyone’s attention. You, Lisa, and everyone in your section approach the railing to look down to the stage where a spotlight had been cast on the speaker. “Here at Majesty’s, we don’t karaoke. We don’t want to hear you drunk motherfuckers screech!” The crowd erupts in laughter, but you look over to Lisa to see if the language offended her. She doesn’t seem to mind as she’s laughing along with ever else.

“At Majesty’s,” the speaker walks around dramatically motioning their hands like a magician's assistant, “We perform, we put on a show, we lip sync like you’ve never seen before!” There’s a chorus of claps, cheers, and ‘yass queen’s. 

“We have a special birthday performance by the birthday boy himself! Everybody give it up for Scott Evans!!!” Your section filled with Scott’s friends and family go crazy cheering him on. I wonder what song he decided on. 

Come and put cha name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, ya name

Don't chu wanna put ya name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, bay-bay-bay-bay-uh

“Oh my goodness! He would!” Scott surprised everyone with ‘Birthday Cake’ by Rihanna, and you have to say, he did it justice. Ansel and Jaden are his back up, twerking and being silly hype men. You look around to see everyone in hysterics and cheering, enjoying the clownery and having a good time. 

In your scan of the section, you notice Chris standing beside you. You admire his profile; the way his eyes scrunch up when he smiles genuinely, the lucious length of his lashes, the sharp angle of his nose, the slack of his jaw when he brings his beer to his plump lips. Before he poured the liquid in his mouth, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up around the neck of the bottle. You whip your head back to the stage below, kicking yourself for getting caught. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but his cheeks take on a slight rosy hue.

When Scott’s performance is over, everyone cheers and claps for the guest of honor, who takes his center stage bow and makes his way back to the section.

You and Chris look at one another, both of you mid smile, gazing at each other. Your smiles fade and you clear your throat, readying yourself to speak, although unsure of what to say.

“That was...”

“Yeah, it was…”

“Cool…”

“Entertaining even…”

“Uh huh.”

“Yep.”

You both stand there awkwardly. You’re looking everywhere but at Chris, while Chris is rocking back and forth on his heels, swinging his hands in front then behind himself.

“What a riveting conversation we’re having,” you joke, hoping to loosen up the tension.

It seems to work because Chris breathes out a light laugh before testing some humor himself. “Going better than our last conversation, that’s for sure.” He peeks at your expression tentatively to see if the joke landed, and it seems so by the small smile you offer him.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” is all you could think to say. A lull enters your exchange again, but this time it feels a little less rigid, but still not comfortable or cozy. You both have the same idea to interrupt the quiet with a start of a sentence, then share a laugh for simultaneously speaking.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“No, you can. I don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Well, if we were thinking the same thing, you were probably gonna start with ‘I’m sorry…’,” he punctuated with a smile. 

You, however, are not smiling. Your face is contorted in complete confusion. “What exactly should I be apologizing for?”

Now Chris is confused. Your face and your tone say that you are serious. He’s searching your face for any sign of humor, and when he doesn’t find any, says, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe for acting all high and mighty like you’re too good for a peace offering?”

“There wouldn’t need to be a peace offering if you weren’t judgemental in the first place!”

“Maybe, but my judgments weren’t wrong. You parade around like you’re queen of everything!” You glare at him as he continues his tangent.  “‘OOooooOoO look at me, I’ve won a bunch of statues for my poppy-pop songs and spend my money on fufu jackets, but also don’t look at me cos I’m kinda awkward and might turn to putty at any given second.’” He mocks you in a high pitched, “woman” voice. 

You scoff at his foolery and to feel enraged by his stupidly silly drunken display. “First of all, I do not talk like that!”

“Yeah, ok.”

“And secondly, I’m not about to apologize for being proud of my accomplishments that I worked really fucking hard to achieve. I’m not afraid to clap for my damn self. We can’t all be overly-humble and self deprecating and blessed with the ability to be great with everybody. I refuse to shrink myself for anyone any longer!”

‘Any longer’? What’s she mean by that? Chris’ expression softens, as does yours. You’ve realized that you've once again been brought out your box, by a practical stranger no less. The two of you share similar expressions; anger tinged with a bit of hurt. Before either of you could say anything else, not that either of you wanted to, a commotion coming toward the two of you takes your attention away from the heated moment.

Scott is making his rounds through the section, receiving celebratory high fives, kisses, and smacks on the ass. “That was incredible dear!” Lisa punctuated with kisses all over her his face, causing you to laugh at the affection she showed her grown son.

“Ok, ok, thanks Ma!” Scott said, removing his mother’s hands from either side of her face. As he proceeded to wipe off the lipstick from his face, he turned to Chris. “Bro, are you gonna go up there?”

“Nah, just gonna hang back tonight,” Chris says, sounding defeated.

“What? Why? You love karaoke!”

“This isn’t karaoke. Besides, I’m not really feeling it tonight.” That sounds a lot like what you told him as an excuse to leave the game night. You felt like he was baiting you. To bite or not to bite? That is the question. After some intense and uncomfortable pouting from Scott, Chris caved. “Maybe, and that’s a hard maybe!” Chris slurred and gesticulated as he said so.

Satisfied and then distracted, Scott wandered off to his other party guests, his mother following closely behind him. You, however, feeling particularly petty, were not satisfied with his answer. “Too cool for this, are you?” You instigate.

Chris scoffs and swigs his beer, eyes fixed ahead. “Why don’t you go up there? You’re supposedly a big shot rockstar,” you roll your eyes at the title, “and I’ve yet to see what you can do.” A lie, but only he knows that.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I would, but I’ve been told I can’t because I’m a ‘professional’ and will ‘intimidate’ others from having fun, so, whatever…” you say, mocking Scott’s request.

“Yep… sounds about right.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” The liquor made you bold, but Chris barely bats an eye at your brutish behavior. He only winks and walks away. You find yourself trying to manage the butterflies that arise at his slight act, the fluttering cutting through your irritation. What the hell body! We’re not supposed to feel this way towards him!

As you watch Chris disappear down the stairs, there’s a hand on your shoulder that you harshly shrug out of. You turn around to face the offender, but soften at the confused face you meet. “Oh, Lisa. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. Not unless you’ve got eyes in the back of your head,” she chuckles. “Are you ok, darling? You look… pissed.”

You lightly laugh, “Yeah… no… I mean yes, I’m fine.”

Lisa looks at you with an eyebrow raised, unconvinced. “Uh huh… I won’t push only because it’s a party, but I want you to know you can tell me anything that troubles you.” Even if it’s your son? You nod, knowing she’s sincere. “So, Scott said that you all are free on Monday.”

“Yep, first full free day in a while!”

“Great! Well, I wanted to invite you to the art museum with me on Monday. There’s a new exhibit opening up and seniors and friends get a special viewing. What do ya say?”

“Aw, I’d love to, Lisa! What’s the—“

“Guys, gals, and non-binary pals! May I have your attention again!” Everyone returns to the railing to look at the host on the stage downstairs. “Our next performer is somewhat unsuspecting, however, a Boston boy through and through. Says he’s a huge fan of the Patriots,” there’s some “woops” for the home team, “and a big fan of singing some Billy Joel…”

“No, he’s not!” you look at Lisa confusedly, as she covers her mouth.

“Who’s not?”

“…and goes by the name of ‘Sassy Cevans’…” the host continues.

“Oh yes he is!” Scott says from your left, inexplicably giddy.

“WHO IS?!” Your question has yet to be answered as the song's guitar riff ripples through the venue. The performer explodes onto the stage, back to the crowd, air strumming along. They turn around as the first lyrics come in and your question is answered, but now you have so, so many more. What in the hell??

Part 5 cont.

[singeramg]

Midnight: Chapter 18

Pairing: Clark Kent-Superman/ Metahuman! Black! OFC

Rating: M

Warnings: Much of the same warnings before, language, sexual innuendo, lewd comments, child abuse so trigger warning.

A/n: I am writing a little bit everyday so this got done and I am already well into chapter 19! I was going to post this last night but I decided to wait until this morning.

CATCH UP HERE!

Midnight: Chapter 18

* Denotes: Inner-voice

I look around the dimly lit room as if seeing it for the first time despite knowing I had been in it for a while. My eyes hone in non Clark chained to a wooden chair in the middle of the room. 

 “Clark?!” Recovering from whatever hold had been put over me, I tried to shake my head to clear it, but all my emotions were a jumbled mess. All I knew was that I had to get to Clark. It was odd but he wasn’t giving off fear.

 “There’s my Gia. Glad to see you again.”

He says with a smile as if he was trying to comfort me. The longer I looked at him the fogginess of what I had done began to lift. I remembered helping trap him, bringing him here, coming up with the idea for those god awful chains and then I forced myself onto him. What the fuck dude! 

If he didn’t hate me before, he sure as shit would now. I scramble to my feet, and over to him.

 “What in the hell did I do?!” Ask mostly to myself but Clark responds. 

 *“No permanent damage yet, but I think we stand a much better chance of sorting this out if I get out these chains.”*

I don’t think too hard and control myself enough to gather enough energy to cut through his chains. I pull them off quickly and toss them as far away from him as I can. Clark finally takes a full and deep breath as the Kryptonite chains were constricting all of that for him. He coughs roughly as his body readjusts to his strength returning. 

 “Oh my god I fucked up bad. What did I do...”

Thoughts raced through my head as I imagined all the ways Clark could kill me, each more creative than the last. 

  *“Gia, Gia. Calm down. Everything will be alright. Can you still hear me like this?”*

I was confused.

  “I am panicking Clark, not deaf of course I can hear you.” I snap but note that I am still shaking.

  *“Gia look at me.”*

He says and it sounds like he is trying to poke fun at me. I frown and look at him. 

  *“Gia my lips haven’t been moving the entire time.”*

I yelp and jump away from him.

  “What the hell?!”

This time Clark laughs out loud and he just pulls me closer to him, it surprised me that he would even want me that close to him.

  “Everything will be okay, but first we have got to get out of here. I am still too weak to fly, at least while I am near these chains. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

All of my memories of this place are still fuzzy, everything felt so intense, and sharp. Apparently now I could read minds. This was all new and strange to me. What had happened while I was here? How long was I here? Most importantly, how could we get out of here. I looked around for clues, trying to think of anything that could help when Clark’s head shot toward the door.

  “Someone is coming. Follow my lead.”

He pulls me close to his body as he sits himself down in the chair and we end up in the same compromising position we had been in before. Clark’s hands pull my face down onto his just as the door opens. He makes the kiss intense right off the bat, slipping his tongue into my mouth, holding my head in place. Lost to the moment I moan forgetting we were only putting on a show, at least until a throat clears behind us.

   “I hate to interrupt but I heard the bossman just kicked out his house guests and is about to make an appearance. You may want to lock the lover boy back up before that happens.”

I fight back the urge to cry as I recognize Tracy.

It had been years since I had seen Tracy and to see her again, under these circumstances I was hit with my own guilt, and her simmering anger and sadness.

I have no control over these new expansions of my powers so I can’t control hearing thoughts. Tracy practically yells in her mind at me.

  *“Hurry up so I don’t have to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you! Hurry hurry! Boss will make me hurt you.”*

  “Okay Tracy. What if we don’t tie him back up? I need to leave.”

  “Leave? Wait...you are awake aren’t you?”

I watch as Tracy goes on the defensive. I stand down so that I don’t make her even more wary of me.

 “Tracy I don’t want to fight you. Come with us.”

This time Clark was the one shouting at me. I winced outwardly as Clark yelled in his own head. 

I would definitely teach him that he didn’t need to yell in his head. 

*“Are you crazy Gia?! She was the one who caused the crash and kidnapped you.”*

*“Yes Clark. I know exactly who she is. I failed her before. I won’t do it again.”

*“You are trying to get yourself killed, I’m convinced.”*

I realize we have been silent exactly long enough to be rude and freak her out. I feel her defensive energy build and she prepares to fight me.

   “Please Tracy come with me. We can help you.”

   “So now you want to help me? After all these years? You want to help me? I don’t think so, I think you just want to use me. You don’t care about me. He does.”

The images of the kind words, and sweet gestures. All of which had been more of a sibling in nature, but as I watched them briefly it was clear she was being groomed. He was talking to her persuasively, soft words laced in   the way that would make any impressionable young person comply with whatever just to continue to receive that affection they had been starved of and I knew Tracy had been starved because for a while I had too.

  “Tracy I care. I promise I care about you. Just come with us. You will see that I only want what’s best for you.”

  “Fuck you!” She growls at me. I feel Clark tense up behind me.

  “Tracy. Please I already said I don’t want to fight you.”

I try to keep my eyes open and honest. Tracy was contemplating an attack as she had been taught, but the part of her mind that hadn’t been altered. The true part that I knew of her, was fighting her to let us help. 

For some reason she can’t explain to herself, she agrees at least until she is sure we aren’t a threat as much as I could gather from her surface thoughts. Without much control over this new power I didn’t know how to dig deeper for the stuff people wanted to hide. I push positive emotions to her.  

   “Alright, we can get out of here but the boss is headed down here on detainment level.”

   “If we can get Clark away from the chains, he and I can handle the rest.”

Tracy nods and holds her thumb against the door panel and it opens to an empty hallway. Do my best to move calmly and confidently as if nothing is wrong. Tracy has no problem staying calm and I can feel her power surging through her arms, which indicated she had super strength. I remembered her punching me and taking me down for the count. Clark is nervous mostly because he knows he is not at full strength to help me as much as he normally could. It worries him and especially as we navigated through the halls, using what I could feel of energies to avoid others and trusting Tracy to guide us out. Thankfully, just as we were getting out the last door, we narrowly avoided a guard coming around the corner. Out of the building I felt Clark’s strength boost exponentially as he was now far enough away from the chains that he was back at full strength. 

  “We have got to get out of here. Gia I can carry you, Tracy will have to get on my back and I can fly us out of here.”

Then we heard a loud siren which told me someone knew we were gone. I could feel anger, and mostly panic coming from those inside, and from experience I knew nothing good came from that mix of emotions.

  “Shit, okay let’s go!”

I turn to Tracy who for the first time looks unsure. I walk over to her and take her hand.

  “Tracy, I need you to trust me. I can’t leave you here so let’s go.”

Clark looks between us as he walks over and turns his back to Tracy for the first time since this all started, and kneels down so she could get on his back easily. Tracy shoots me a look and I can feel fear and uncertainty pouring from her, but she latches onto his back and grips him tightly. I breathe a sigh of relief and let Clark scoop me up and hold me tightly against his chest like he always does when we fly. We take off with a blast ignoring the calls for us to stop and get just far enough away that if Clark moves at a random pattern then they couldn’t get a shot on us.

*Wayne Manor: 4:45am*

The flight wasn’t that long, maybe 30 minutes at best and I could feel Tracy’s energy was running low. Clark landed in the driveway of Bruce manor rather than my room, and Tracy slid off his back easily. Clark doesn’t put me down until we are inside the house.

Lights come on in the foyer just as Clark carries me across the threshold, sitting me to my feet just as Bruce, Alfred, Diana, Barry and Victor all come rushing into the room.

Their thoughts all come at me loud and at once, it hurts. I crumble to my knees, holding my ears, trying to make it stop. Ramblings of ‘he found her’, ‘she’s alive’, and ‘she’s hurt’, all swirling around in my head. I start crying and Clark kneels in front of me.

  “Gia, baby what is wrong?” 

He pulls me against his chest and I mumble.

  “It’s so loud, Clark. Everyone’s thoughts are too loud.”

  “Remember when I taught you to focus your energy? Make your world smaller, focus on one thing. One sound or one mind, start blocking everything else.”

 “It hurts.”

I say with my head throbbing, tear tracks running down my face.

  “I know it hurts but if you don’t try this, you will just hurt and hurt. I can’t watch you suffer. I know you can do this. Remember to focus on just one thing, one sound, one feeling, bring yourself down.”

He rubs my back and I try to heed his advice, focusing on how good his hand feels on my back, and his thoughts which he had basically cleared out to chant ‘relax and breathe Gia, I am here to protect you’. His mantra helps me focus until I stop whimpering and can open my eyes. I look at him with bloodshot red eyes and Clark offers me a small smile, leaning down kissing my forehead.

 “There’s my Gia.”

I get that tingly feeling from hearing him call me his. I push it down for the moment and stand to my feet, ignoring the small ache in my knees. I am finally able to look up at the team and everyone looks and feels concerned however the most resounding emotion is relief for me.

 “Thank the gods you are alright. That both of you are alright. We’ve been looking for Clark for hours since he disappeared from the club.”

Diana walks over and pulls me into a hug. I allow it and I start to feel suspicion roll off of Bruce in heavy waves.

  “While I am glad you and Clark have both returned. I think we are a little behind the curve, who is this?”

He gestures behind us to the small figure who had backed herself into a corner. I read her quickly and I feel true and deep fear from her for the first time. I pull away from Clark and walk over to Tracy.

  “Everyone, this is Tracy. One of the reasons we escaped was because of her.”

Victor steps up.

  “I know her face. She was the one talking to Clark before he disappeared, I’ve watched that tape back and forth. She slips something in his drink and then she guides him out the club through the back entrance. He is clearly influenced by something.”

Victor looks pissed and rightfully defensive.

“ Yeah she also was the one who caused the wreck, but apparently I came up with the entire plan to kidnap Clark here. She was my partner. She didn’t have a choice. She never did. We were both kidnapped by the same people.”

 “So you brought the threat to my house then.”

Bruce asks dryly.

  “No. She isn’t any threat. She came willingly and if you could feel the emotions I could then you would know she is not a threat. I will warn you though, she is finicky. Keep calling her a threat and moving to attack and she will attack you. Her mind has already identified 6 ways to incapacitate and/ or kill you Bruce.”

I say with a straight face and I take note that Diana moves herself between Tracy and Bruce.

  “I brought her here because I knew she would be safe. I couldn’t leave her there. Not with them. I already broke my promise once, I wouldn’t do it again...”

Flashback: 7 years ago

They kept us in dark, dirty cells in a black if them, that looked like we were being housed in an old prison. I have been here for years and everyday I wake up feels like a fresh hell. We slept two to a cell, however I didn’t have a roommate right now. The last one was a 22 year old Hispanic girl they took away and she never came back. It was common at this point, they took away so many girls that never came back. 

I learned a long time ago to stop crying about it because these guards and scientists could smell your fear, and no matter how much you cried and begged. They would always take you. It was rare that you even made it back to a cell without severe damage. It was still lit for the block and I sat on the top bunk re-reading an old, worn copy of Alice in Wonderland. This place didn’t have much in the way of books, despite them having kept me learning. I wasn’t allowed too many that weren’t educational. Under the guise of more possible success ‘if I wasn’t stupid’ I had been here since I was 16 and based on the dates I could glean from the other children they had taken, I was somewhere around 19 now. 

The longest ‘candidate’ they had here. I had been through so many tests and trials that I wondered why my body hadn’t just given up on me. I wanted to go already. To see my momma again, not to suffer through this pain anymore. I was simply biding my time until that happened. 

Alice was talking to Twiddledum and Twiddledee when I heard muffled crying and a dragging of feet. The worst guard, Jax, manhandles a small girl into my cell. Tossing her inside so hard she slams against the wall, yelping in her surprise agony. I leap down quickly.

  “Hey you jackass, she is just a little girl!”

I stand between the two of them. I fight off my feelings of disgust as I watch him lear over me, the industrial lights of the corridor shining off of his bald head, and his lips curling back to reveal crooked and yellowed teeth that looked like dude had never had a relationship with toothpaste in his entire life. 

  “She might be, but you're not. Are you? You know exactly what happens to little girls with bad attitudes.”

I try not to let fear show across my face. He was right, I knew the stakes of bad behavior, shit I probably was the reason they didn’t have as much push back from the other girls and boys they took. I was always made an example of when it came down to punishment for what they deemed breaking the rules. Hell, early on, they beat me often I didn’t even know what I was being beat for by the end of it. Jax has been around the entire time I had been here and he took sick pleasure in how we cried and bled on cold, stone floors. Now he just looks at me like he’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to get me alone.

  “Yes I do, and Unless you are coming to take me away for that, then get the fuck out my cell.”

His eyes flashover in anger, and before I can make note of it he slaps me down to the ground. I scream out in pain, and catch myself on my hands. 

  “Still so feisty, you would think you would have learned your lesson by now.”

  “Fuck you.”

He leans down laughing at me as I wipe the blood from my lip.

  “You ask me nice enough Sweetheart and I will.”

I frown my mouth up in disgust, and try to scoot backwards.

  “Keep holding your bad ass breath, the fuck you’ve been eating, dog shit?.” I snark.

 “I have a feeling I won’t have to wait that long. The boss is thinking of approving some new techniques to bring out the success in his experiments. Trust me I’ve got some interesting ideas.”

Then he laughs, walking out of the cell, slamming it closed, locking it.

  “You should probably teach the little one some manners. I would hate to have to teach her a hard lesson.”

With that he whistles back down the cell block.

  “Sick fuck.”

I say pulling myself off the ground, dusting off the tank top and sweatpants I was wearing. The small girl was huddled in the corner, her sniffles obvious in the silence of the cell.  

I walk up to her slowly, and she curls in on herself. I remember doing this exact same thing years ago.

  “My name is Gia...ummm... Gia Smith. What’s your name?”

She sniffed, finally looking at me, her eyes big and brown. Her lips were small and red from being worried, her hair light brown and super tight curls. She was actually similar to me except she was mixed with white and black making her a few shades lighter than me,  smaller, really just a baby.

  “My n...na..name is Tracy.”

I held my hand out to her, hoping she would take it.

  “Okay Tracy, how old are you?”

*sniffle* “9.”

  “Okay baby well, how about you get off this cold floor and you can have the bottom bunk.”

  “Ms...Gia I am scared.”

My heart broke for this beautiful little girl. She was obviously so loved from wherever they had snatched her from and it hurt that she was even here, having to endure this same type of pain and life I was in everyday. She gets up, running unexpectedly into my arms. The force of it almost knocked me off my feet, I didn’t have much strength but I held the sobbing little girl as tight as I could....

*End Flashback*

Standing in the corner, despite her hair being completely straight and being taller, she still was that same little girl that was thrown in my cell all those years ago. 

For a year I basically took care of her, taking all of the punishments, helping her with the work they gave her, gave her my share of food sometimes when she was still hungry, cleaned and comforted her when they would take her away for hours and she would come back a mess, battered, and sometimes unconscious. 

Those were the nights I would stay up all night crying and hoping each time wouldn’t be the time that they took her out of the cell forever. It was the reason I had never gotten close to anyone here, because that day that I broke out, I forgot and I broke my promise to Tracy. 

Now as we all stood in Bruce’s giant foyer the tension was real. I walked back over to Tracy, her eyes were still brown, the little girl I helped all those years ago still there, but burrowed behind years of torture and pain. Almost killing her, but I knew that sweet girl was still there. She looked much older but she couldn’t be any other than 16 now, which bothered about having her in that club, drinking and dressed like she currently was. 

   “Tracy, do you think you would like some different clothes? I know I have something upstairs that will fit you?”

She looked at me, and then shut her eyes tightly as if trying to fight off a memory. I knew that was probably the case as I had recognized that hunted look on my own face plenty of times.

I look at Bruce.

  “Would it be okay if she stays the night? We can figure everything else in the morning?”

  “You trust her?”

He asks skeptically 

  “Yes.”

I say without hesitation, surprising almost everyone except for Clark.

  “Sure.”

I help Tracy upstairs to my room and once inside I find her something comfortable to sleep in.

 “Why do you trust me?”

Tracy surprises me, asking as I go over to the bathroom, to pull out fresh towels for her.

  “Because I know you, you may have gotten older but I know you Tracy. I know you are still in there and while you may not feel like it, maybe she’s buried deep, but I know the little girl I shared a room with for a year is still there. I hope that with a little trust from me that she will trust me enough again to reappear. I am going to head downstairs and I have someone very important to check on, but if you need just for me or Clark and we will come back up. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

I offer a small smile, her mind still doesn’t fully trust me, but she still knows she is tired of following whoever this boss was and deep down she remembered what I did for her all those years back. I leave the room as she goes into the bathroom. As tired as I am I manage a shield to notify me if she leaves the room, and I could monitor her energy from anywhere in the house. 

The team had moved into the library as I walked back in and I winced as the thoughts hit me again. I tried not to drop to the floor and Clark helped me into the nearby chair. 

  “Gia, what happened to you?”

Diana has rushed over to me as Clark helps me relax with a centering hand on my back. Her mind, along with everyone else’s runs a mile a minute. I toss a finger over my lips, and say

  “Can everyone just like... focus on like one thought for like five minutes? Jesus.”

I says rubbing my temples.

  “Did she just say focus on one thought?”

Barry says 

  “Yes I did, and shit you think almost as fast as you are, slow down for a second kid. Plus all of you are thinking really loud.”

  “Gia what happened? You’ve developed the ability to read minds?”

Bruce asks me, with his hand on his chin.

“Yes. The last thing I remember after being taken was me talking to a man and his basically authorizing them to start new tests. After that I came to with Clark tied to a chair, and me dressed like this. Speaking of which...”

I waved my hand and the annoyingly short and tight outfit I was wearing changed into yoga pants and a t- shirt. Grateful to feel so exposed anymore.

  “That’s better. I can tell you guys details from what isn’t foggy but where is my son first?”

I look to Clark pointedly.

  “Our son is with Ma’ and Ms. Alphonse at the farm.”

  “Ms. Alphonse?”

  “She didn’t want to leave until you returned. We all figured Kalen would need familiar faces around while you were gone.”

Alfred offers the conversation and I tear up as it hits me how much I missed my baby boy. How freaked out he must have been not to see his mom. 

  “Can I...we go to him? I need to see my baby...”

  “Gia I will go and get him, he has been waking up at 6 am anyway. It’s practically 5 now, by the time we get here he will just be waking up.  You can go get some rest.”

   “I am not sleeping until I see Kalen. I can’t hold the shield I put over Tracy’s room all the way at Mrs. Martha’s. I can’t leave.”

  “Bruce you have virtual driver mode on all of the cars correct?”

Victor asks

   “Yes.”

  “Good, Clark give your mother a call and let her know a car will be there to pick them all up in about an hour.”

I shoot a grateful look to Victor and I take note that the loud thoughts have all stopped while I wasn’t thinking about them but as soon as I did they came back full force. I wince, Clark notices and shakes his head. His voice speaks clearly above everyone else latent thoughts. 

   “Okay that’s enough, Gia you are in pain. We can finish this in the morning. You have been through enough. I’m taking you to bed.”

His voice books no argument but that didn’t mean Barry didn’t think anything.

  *“Well that was fast. Didn’t think they were together again, but I guess he missed her, urges are urges...I mean shit...you can hear me can’t you Gia.”*

  “ Yes Barry. I can.”

He blushes and I laugh. While everyone else looks on confused.

 “Clark would be correct. Everything has been a haze and the lack of sleep is not helping this new power at all.”

I stand to my feet, Clark hovering and he toys with the idea of tossing me over his shoulder. I turn to him with a glare, and shake my head.

  “I’m tired, not unconscious Clark.”

I eye roll and he chuckles behind me. 

  “Gia we are all glad you are safe. I will be here if you need anything.”

Diana offers and I know it’s sincere. I offer a small smile to her and everyone else despite my head ringing, and Clark takes my hand in his to lead me upstairs...

A/n: HEY EVERYONE! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always I appreciate all the love you guys have been showing me with this story! Also the re-blogs and replies are great and helps me move forward and write faster! You rock!!

TAGLIST: Still open so let me know if you’d like to be on it.

@bloodyinspiredfuck​ @romyr4​ @thethirstyarchive​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @kmcmpmd​

[inkykeiji]

It’s ok I’m alright now!! I went to therapy and I’m healing myself and revisiting things I love

One of these things is your blog!!! And talking to you:)

↖(^ω^)↗

i am so, so glad to hear that you are doing better now and that you’ve been taking good care of yourself <3 you deserve only the best!!!

i want you to promise me that you’ll be extra, extra careful while navigating my blog. i’m super happy to have you here, of course, and i want you to be as safe as possible while your here. as you know very well, most if not all of the pieces i write contain seriously triggering material and the very last thing i want is for you to accidentally trigger yourself!!! so please, please heed the warnings <3

[thatsweetsexypsychotroyotto]

I'm Not a Bad Person- Chapter Four

SUMMARY: Troy Otto does have feelings you know. He's in the process of figuring them out; especially when it comes to his childhood friend, Jaymie. Whatever they are, they're rooted deep, and they're growing.

WARNINGS: Language, Warped thoughts, Violence.

WORD COUNT: Fuck if I know.

PAIRING: Troy Otto x OFC

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My plan is to follow along with the events of season 3, but with my OFC involved. I'll veer off plenty of times and probably switch shit up completely. Not sure yet. We'll be exploring different characters' POVs throughout the series. I'm not great at this writing thing but I try my best. Hope you like it enough. All characters except my OFC don't belong to me.

*******

Chapter 4

(Alicia's POV)

None of this would've happened if Nick hadn't left us to wander with the dead. Mom was on a mission to find him after that, even though it was clear he didn't want to be found; but we did- in a new world death camp lead by Troy Otto.

Don't get me wrong: I'm grateful to be reunited with my brother. I missed him. It's just that a lot happened while he was gone and, well, it would've been nice if he was there for us.

As much as Nick didn't want to be around the living, it turned out he had joined another community. It honestly hurt. Didn't he want to be away from people? He got so wrapped up with that group that he even ended up with a girlfriend.

Enough of these thoughts right now. They're not helping. I should be focusing on the task at hand.

Jake and I are heading to his ranch by foot now. We've been carrying Nick's unconscious girlfriend between us for the past few hours. I'm fucking exhausted. Everything about life is exhausting now. No use in complaining though. At least I'm not in Luciana's boots. She had been shot and was already in bad shape before the helicopter went down. I'm still shocked the three of us made it. I just hope we make it to the ranch in time. If anything, for Nick's sake.

Finally, our destination is in sight. A handful of people come to the gate to meet us; either to help or to find out what's going on. Jake and I carefully lay Luciana down so a red-haired man, who appears to be a medic, can check her vitals.

My thoughts wander again. I'm worried about my mom. How is she going to handle it when she sees Travis isn't with us? She's always been so strong; even through all of this mayhem with the dead rising. Will losing him break her? I guess I'm about to find out.

"Mom..."

I am given a quick hug and then I notice her looking down the road, expecting to see Travis lagging behind. "Where is he? Where is Trav?" Realizing he isn't coming, she asks once more, looking me in the eyes this time. "Where is he?"

"He," I hate this. "He's not-" I see it in her eyes. I don't need to say any more.

"No... No, no..."

"I'm sorry-" I cut myself off. Those words seem so pointless, though I mean them from the bottom of my heart.

Mom doesn't have time to mourn right now unfortunately. Here comes Nick, sprinting towards the scene. He goes straight to Luciana and kneels at her side. I see fear in his eyes.

"Luci.. Luci, hey.. Hey, it's Nick. Luci.."

"Not sure she can hear you," the medic tells him.

"What? What do you mean? Nick panics.

"She's not going to make it is what he means." That's an all too familiar voice- Troy fucking Otto.

"Help her!" Nick shouldn't even have to say that. They should be on it already.

"No. We take her to the infirmary, she may turn. It's against policy." I can't believe what I'm hearing right now. Why is this even up for debate? Luciana is still alive!

"It's your fault! You shot her!" Despite the fire in his voice, Nick sounds scared and helpless.

"I was defending my people. I'll do it again." Troy walks over to Luci while pulling out his pistol. "I know what to do."

"No no no no." Nick stands and puts himself between Troy and Luciana.

"This is how it has to be." Troy nonchalantly pushes Nick to the side. I can't believe what's unfolding in front of my eyes. Nothing feels real anymore. Why isn't anybody doing any-

"Troy!" A girl about my age approaches the scene, interrupting the tension. She gets close to Troy, and looking up at him with pleading eyes, she speaks quietly as if only to address him; though she can faintly be heard anyway. "This is one of those scenarios we talked about, ok? Do the right thing."

Troy mirrors her volume. "I am, Jaymie. I'm keeping you safe. I have to keep you- and everyone here, safe."

"But she could pull through, Troy. You know this isn't right. We should give her a chance."

"She's not worth the risk."

"What if, what if it was me laying there?"

The way he looked into her eyes was so intense. He went quiet; her words sinking in. After a brief moment though he swallowed hard and shook his head slightly.

"It isn't." Then Troy addresses Nick again. "Come on, out of the way. Move aside." He fails to heed the direction of this Jaymie girl. She looks more disappointed now than concerned for Luci's life as she was just moments ago.

Troy advances on his target.

"I'll do it." I barely heard him, but Nick said it twice. "I'll do it. I'm allowed this."

Troy contemplates Nick's words. He continues to stare down at the dying girl, his pistol ready to fire. I was stunned when he actually agreed.

"Troy wait-" Jaymie doesn't trust my brother. The transaction is already in progress though. Troy released the hammer of the gun and passed it over. Nick was now the one pointing the weapon at his girlfriend. There's no way he'll do this. I bet he's-

His arm raises, aiming the pistol directly at Troy's face. I knew it. The crowd reacts in gasps as a few others draw their own guns.

Jaymie doesn't hesitate to step in front of Troy. "Nick, please! Please don't do this!" Troy gently but hurriedly pushes Jaymie to the side and gives her a stern look. Her expression is one of utter desperation. "Nick, put the fucking gun down!" Tears form in her eyes. It's hard to believe someone actually cares this much about the guy.

"Let her in," Nick demands.

Jake has his own pistol trained on my brother. "Nick, this is not how we do things here."

Nick stares Troy dead in the eye, then changes his aim, putting Jaymie in the line of fire.

The color in Troy's face drains and his entire body language changes. He certainly didn't seem all that phased when the pistol was pointed at his self. "Whoa, hey, Nick, this is between you and me. So you keep that thing aimed at me, alright?"

Nick doesn't move it. "I said let her in."

With his unpatched eye trained on my brother's trigger finger, Troy cautiously reaches over to Jaymie, hoping like hell Nick won't pull the trigger. He guides the girl behind his body, shielding her. She is clearly against the idea, as she shows restraint, but Troy's grip on her is persistent. Unsure of what else to do, Jaymie wraps her arms around him, splaying one hand over his heart and the other on his stomach, like an instinct to protect his vitals, perhaps? Of course it would do no good since Nick is aiming for Troy's head anyway; that and her hands aren't going to stop a damn bullet. She doesn't seem that stupid, so maybe she's just grasping at straws.

"Nick, please. I'm begging you!" Jaymie's voice cracks as a tear runs down her cheek. "Don't do this!"

"Put the gun down, Nick." Mom's voice chimes in.

"Not this time."

More tears run down Jaymie's face upon hearing Nick's words. She attempts to hold in her sobs. If I'm being honest here, her reactions are breaking my heart. I actually feel bad for her. Too bad it's Troy she's defending.

"Do what your mommy says." Troy provokes Nick, who takes another couple angry steps towards him. Jaymie's hold on Troy tightens as she lets out a yelp.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Jeremiah steps between Troy and my brother. "Nick, Nick, easy there. Let, let me have the pistol, son."

It's Nick's turn to have a broken voice. "You can't let her die."

Jeremiah's voice is soothing. "If she's got a pulse, we'll let her in; but you got to give me the gun."

"Do it, Nick. Give him the gun," our mom encourages.

Nick reluctantly disengages the hammer and hands the gun over to Jeremiah. I look over at Jaymie to watch her let out the breath she had been holding, and the remainder of her tears fall. She rests her cheek against Troy's back, and moves her arms to wrap around him completely. He affectionately places his own hands on top of hers.

"Get her to the infirmary, and secure her before you treat her." Jeremiah gives the commands concerning Luci. "Everybody, that's enough fun. The show's over. Go back to what you were doing." At last, the crowd disperses.

"Everything's alright, Jayms." I hear Troy calming Jaymie as he turns around, interrupting their embrace. He then puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and guides her through the gate.

I have a feeling we'll be staying here awhile. Maybe befriending this Jaymie girl would be in our best interests. If anything, we could probably find out some useful information from her. I suppose I should wait for some of the emotional distress that my brother is responsible for to dissipate though. She was obviously terrified for Troy's life. What a sweet, foolish girl.

*******

[princeanxious]

A Loving New Beginning- Gods of the Sky Au (Part One!) -Sanders Sides Fic

(Authors note: So, bet you guys totally forgot that I was planning on making another part to this Au, huh?? Well, After some trial and error, and some struggling with ideas and motivation, I’ve got part one, out of three/four, done and ready to give to ya’ll! This is supposed to help balance out the AU’s angst ratios a little bit to give a look into the aftermath of the Main Fic, so I hope ya’ll enjoy! Also wanna be tagged for anything to do with this AU? Let me know, I’m starting a taglist for it!)

Warnings: fluffy fluff and little else other than Virgil being a cute lil confused bean!

Check out the fanfic this fic follows after, right here! (Or else nothing will make much sense, though please heed the warnings!) There will also be art of All the Sides in the future, like this piece here! (Angst and slight blood tw for that piece tho!)

Roman is working on creating something new in his creation room inside the temple when Virgil quietly steps in.

“Hey Ro?” Roman startles slightly and his creation dissipates, thankfully he hadn't really started on it and hadn't really had anything in mind when starting on it, so nothing is lost. Virgil, however, looks guilty anyway and begins apologizing profusely.

“No no, it's okay, really. I promise, Virgil, no harm done!” He chuckles softly, patting the others shoulders as he comes to stand in front of the lunar god.

“So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” the solar god asks, which triggers Virgil to flush. The happiness of seeing color in the fair skin of the gods once sickly pale face bubbles inside Roman for a moment, and he can't help but smile which only causes the smaller of the two to blush more.

“U-um.. The humans, you know, with a solstice coming up, they're requesting us. They - they want all of us to attend the upcoming festival celebration..” the ravenette fidgeted with his new cape’s hem, the gold threaded designs woven into the inside to represent the stars that accompany the Moon at night glittered beautifully in the candle light. Truly, Virgil finally looked divinely ethereal, as he rightfully should have looked all this time.

“That's fantastic, my dear Luna!~ You rightfully deserve to be a part of the Solstice Celebrations!” Roman's eyes lit up bright like the star he was born for, excited and proud of the God he cared for deeply. He couldn't quite help his giddiness, reaching to take Virgil's hands into his own and twirl the shorter god in glee, heart only warming more at the precious squeak of surprise that escaped the Moon.

“Just imagine the praise, the fun, the dances! The shimmering decorations, the music, Virgil!” Roman couldn't help but pull the other close, guiding the other in a small twirling dance, ending it off by picking up the other by the waist and giving one final twirling motion before setting him down and gazing warmly into the others eyes.

Virgil still seemed thrown by the kind, caring mood Roman now treated him with, still new to the solid affection and support after working alone for so long. Locking eyes left him flustered and floundering at what to do when shown such solid respect, not to mention being spun cheerily around!

Virgil's arms had instinctively reached out to hold on to Roman’s shoulders while being spun, which was where they now rested as he attempted to gather himself. Unable to help his natural nervous tendencies, he broke eye contact and pulled his arms to his chest to fumble with his sleeves.

“Well, the thing is. Y’know those stories they write based on history? Those exaggerated dramas? Well, um.. since the um.. most recent event in history, they’ve begun to write stories about me.. about, a-about us?” Virgil seemed to flush a bit more, face twisting into something more confused, a look he often gained when frustrated over confusing things.

Roman tilted his head curiously, an endeared smile never leaving his face as he hummed inquiringly. “Hmm? About us? What about us? I know that Humans can sometimes get carried away with their exaggerations, for entertainment’s sake, but I hope it is not too bad?” Watching the nervousness flicker in Virgil’s eyes made his smile falter, concern flashing over his tanned features at the smaller gods distress. “It is not too bad, right?”

“That.. is what I wanted to talk to you about, its not bad, no. But, I just.. Don't understand it? They write.. unfamiliar endings, they assume and guess that the Moon and Sun are one in the same.” Virgil refused to meet the Sun God’s gaze, instead nervously playing with his cape once more.

“Virgil, we are one in the same. Equals within the sky, as it should have been from the start.”

“No, Roman, that.. That's not entirely what I mean.. I mean that.. they see us as lovers, write about us being forced apart by the shadows, and my sacrifice and rebirth, then write about how we then will live on as one, like Patton and Logan do. They want us to attend, together, I.. am confused by this, Roman. ”

“Why, dear Luna? Humans seek love in everything they find. Though, I sometimes think it may be the way they cope with the knowledge that I had left you all alone..” guilt flashed over the sun god’s face, but he maintained his gaze on the beautiful moon before him. “Perhaps I should follow in their footsteps, I will never forgive myself for being so wrong with you, so anything to prove my devotion to your healing wellbeing is something I wouldn’t mind taking part in.”

Virgil was even more confused now than before. Was Roman.. agreeing? With the Humans? Saying that they should be together?

“Roman I don’t..?” Virgil shyly peered up at the taller god, surprise evident in his softer features.

“You will understand with time, my dear Virgil, I promise to you.” The Sun gently hooked his arm around the Moons waist and pulled him close, gently placing a kiss upon the others forehead. “In due time, everything will be clear.”

Virgil gently gripped at the others vibrant cloak, eyes downcast with a look of bewilderment, cheeks flushed.

“Alright, Roman.. I trust you.” Romans heart fluttered at those words, heavy in meaning, the baring of vulnerability in giving them. His hand carded gently through the raven locks of the Moon’s hair, eyes soft and distant for a long moment.

“My dear Luna, if you are ever uncomfortable during the festival, if you ever need an out, air to breathe, a quiet place to calm down in, just give me the word, and you’ll have it. These human festivals can be quite fun, however I do not want want your first time in experience to be unpleasant because you have been overwhelmed.”

Virgil nodded, releasing the others cloak gently to thumb the soft fabric thoughtfully. “They say the Festival will finally be able to last all day and night, because of my Moon, Roman. I am concerned for the Humans, Roman, have they ever carried festivities in the night before? It will be dark, and dangerous, even with my moonlight.”

The Sun chuckled, soothing the ravenette’s hair back from shielding his eyes, shining gold gazing into piercing blue-grey. “Always worrying, my dear Virgil, do not fret, they have planned for this. I have already been asked to help light the flames of the festival candles once night falls. It will be a magical, glittering display, and everyone will be safe in our presence.” Leaning his forehead against Virgil's, eyes locking. “I promise to you that this festival will be far from harm and danger, it will be magical, a wondrous occasion to celebrate us, to celebrate you. With all of us now together, the humans will be safe from the darkness, for good.” The Solar god’s hand slipped from the others hair and rested gently against the Moon’s cheek, thumb rubbing soothing strokes against flushed pink skin with adoration. “With you in our midst, we are complete.”

Both gods spent a few moments in silence, finding assurance in one another’s quiet presence when all was said and done. Eventually, Virgil broke the silence by hiding his face against the taller gods shoulders, huffing out a shy chuckle, “You are so weirdly wondrous, Roman.” Saying which had earned a warm laugh and a gentle kiss upon the head in response, which then also prompted a bashful whine in reaction.

They stood there and swayed happily, content and safely uninterrupted in the warm temple room for a few more long, wonderful minutes before Roman was struck with realization.

“Virgil? I just had a thought.” Roman grinned at the inquiring hum he received, knowing the other had made himself quite comfortable against the sun god’s warm shoulder. “You have never attended a festival before..” Another answering hum, “Soo.. that means you don’t have a festival outfit!” Roman’s excitement could easily be heard mounting in his voice alone, and Virgil was left floundering again, so enraptured by the others metaphorical sunshine. Virgil mustered up enough will to tilt his head to the side, exposing his mouth enough to talk more easily, “No, I don't.. Your point?”

“My poooint, is that we need to make one for you!��� In Roman’s excitement, he plucked Virgil up again and twirling him around, slowing only slightly when the other gave an upset groan in reaction.

“But Roman, why can’t I wear this? It’s already plenty flashy and extravagant..” the Ravenette whined softly, arms slipping around Roman’s neck to secure himself himself and steady their spinning.

“Heaven’s no, My magnificent Moon! You can’t wear that because that is your everyday attire, my dear! This is a Solstice Festival, a twice in a year occurrence to celebrate our balance and unity, there will be no faltering in representing your beauty, in style nor personality! These days are special, and I will not let you under-represent yourself!”

“But Roman-” Virgil paused, purposefully pausing their spin by placing his feet firmly to the ground, still holding the other close. “I don’t- I- Just because I’m not.. wearing something extravagant, doesn’t mean I’ll be under-represented..”

He watched guiltily as Roman’s excitement deflated a little, and the sigh that Roman gave wasn’t too reassuring either. “I.. I know, Virgil. I just, I just want you to enjoy this, want you to feel like a part of the sky, like you always deserved to be. I know you aren’t used to standing out, used to being at the center of attention but, just this once, I think this might.. help? Think about it this way..”

Roman slowly guided Virgil to a window, sitting on the windowsill and pulling the smaller into his lap so that they could gaze out into the night sky and the active villages below it. “Each one of us already has a themed Solstice Festival outfit, representing what we are. They all match in a way, so if you don’t wear one made to match as well, people might stare, they might question why, I just, I don’t care about the backlash we could get, I care about the caused attention that could be centered on you, because I know you are easily overwhelmed by that.” Virgil was now leaned against Roman’s chest as they gazed out at the town below, Roman’s hand carding through the smaller’s hair while the other was entwined with one of Virgil’s own. The solar god’s voice was laced with nervousness and worry, something unusual and unlike him to show around Virgil. It was after a few moments that Virgil realized that Roman had shared a very vulnerable piece of himself inlaid with worry to Virgil, and was waiting for a response in return.

“Look, Ro.. I, I get it, you’re worried about me, and, that's.. that's weird to say for myself but..” Roman’s hand gave a gentle squeeze, which Virgil returned before continuing, “But, I guess, the outfit thing doesn’t sound so bad, when you put it that way. And.. I said that I trust you, I can see that you care, and uh.. yeah.. I’m not good at this..” he earned another hand squeeze from Roman before receiving a gentle kiss on the head and a soft “Thank you.”

They stayed like that in each others arms for another few moments, enjoying the mutual quiet as Virgil tucked himself against Roman once more.

Roman would later call a monk to retrieve to remaining two gods and bring them to the temple’s creation room so that they may all begin work on Virgil’s festival attire, but for now, the two would enjoy a quiet pleasant nap together, finally at peace.

.

Part Two!

General Writings Taglist: @peanut0303 @ashrain5 @wentzdayz @kanejandkruge @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @jadedragon1903 @thecasualinsomniac @analogical-chaos @confinesofpersonalknowledge @planetsanders @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @thekeytohappiness-is-you @today-only-happens-once