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soursturniolo · 6 months

Note

I’m ADDICTED to angsty fics where Matt or chris get in an argument with the reader and they move their hand and reader flinches and then it’s all soft and comforting and sweet PLS WRITE THIS I NEED MORE OF THESE FICS KAY

I GOT YOU BABY

Trauma Response • Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo/Reader

Summary: An argument triggers the reader, and Matt is there for comfort and support.

TRIGGER WARNING: light discussion of a past, physically abusive relationship. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, know that you are not alone and there’s help out there. Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233, or text START to 88788

“I just wish you would listen to me this one fucking time,” Matt gritted out, voice low and irritated.

“Matt, it’s just a little get together, and my best friend is going,” I explain softly. I hate confrontation, Matt knows this, but he’s being so insistent that I don’t go to this little kickback tonight and I don’t understand why.

“Tell her she shouldn’t go either! I’m being so for real right now, people I know going to that party are bad news, babe, don’t go.” He demands, stepping closer to me, at this point we’re maybe a foot apart from each other, standing in the middle of our bedroom.

“Why are you being so controlling right now? This isn’t like you, Matt, and I don’t like it,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“IM NOT!” He yells, making me roll my eyes.

“Yes you literally are,” I tell him.

Matt lets out a loud and frustrated groan as he brings his hand up quickly. I immediately flinch away, shrinking in on myself as I step back.

Everything pauses.

“Baby?” Matt asks, voice soft and sounding heartbroken. I peak up at him, and see where his hand had went. He was reaching up to fix his earring, not what I had instinctively thought. His gaze is sad and concerned, eyes wide and teary looking as he gazes at me.

“Matt, I-“ I start, but my voice shakes and I can’t find the words to say right now.

Matt slowly lowers his hand back down from fixing his earring. He also takes a step back from me.

“You think I’d hit you?” He asks me, voice breaking at the end.

“N-no, Matt, it’s not,” I trail off, once again having trouble speaking. I still feel panicked and anxious, but I know it’s past traumas affecting me right now. I know Matt would never lay a hand on me that way, logically. He’s not that kind of man. But trauma and logic don’t always get along, and Matt doesn’t really know about my past trauma.

“Are you afraid of me? Baby, please, I don’t care how angry I ever am, I’d never-“ Matt has to pause as he gets choked up. A tear runs down his cheek and I break, beginning to cry as I step forward, wrapping my arms tightly around him as a burrow my head into his chest.

“I’d never hurt you sweetheart, never, I don’t want you to be afraid of me” he says, sniffling lightly as I feel him press a kiss to my head. I nod against his chest. We stand there in the middle of his room just holding each other for I don’t know how long as we calm down. In this moment, Matt needed the comfort just as much as I did.

Once I feel back in control of my emotions and my anxiety leaving my body, I pull back slightly so Matt and I can look at each while still in each other’s arms.

“Matt, I know you’d never hurt me, I know that and I need you to know it too,” I tell him softly.

His eyes are red and watery still as he nods.

“I promise you I’d never, I love you,” he tells me, making me smile.

“I know, I love you too,” I respond.

He then asks the question I knew would come, but was dreading.

“Why did you flinch away from me, though?” He asks me gently.

“You know about the guy I dated before you? The one I never talk about,” I begin, to which Matt nods.

“I’m not ready to talk about it all, but sometimes, he’d get physical with me when he was mad, that’s why I flinched. That’s why I hate confrontation so much, it can take my straight back to that feeling I had with him” I explain.

Matt’s jaw clenches a bit as I see him swallow dryly. I can tell hearing this is hard for him, which I hate.

“Hey, I got out, that guy is states away with no idea where I am, I’m safe now, I’m with you,” I assure him.

He nods, and pulls me back into his chest, his arm snug around my waist as his other hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, holding me firmly but gently to his chest.

“I’m so sorry you were ever with a guy like that. I swear to you, I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never lay a finger on you in any way you don’t want. No matter how upset or angry we are. I love you.” he vows to me.

“I love you too,” I tell him, before leaning up and kissing him on the lips. He kisses me back so softly and gently, like I’m made of fine china.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me, I know even talking about that a little bit has to be hard, baby. I’m so proud of you, you’re so strong,” he whispers to me as he reaches up and tucks a piece of my hair back behind my ear.

“Thank you, Matty,” I smile.

“I’m sorry I got so upset about the party you want to go to with your friend tonight. If you want to go still that’s fine. I can’t control you, and I’m sorry it came off that way. I just know some of the guys who plan to go tonight and they’re all bad news. Really bad news. And I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all” he explains to me.

“No, you’re right then, if they’re bad news I’d rather not be around that, I’ll text her and let her know too, we shouldn’t go,” I agree.

That evening Matt and I stayed in, opting to watch a movie in bed together. As I drifted to sleep, surrounded by warm blankets and Matt’s arms, I knew I’d always be safe and looked out for, and I’d never have to worry about going through anything like my past relationship brought me.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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byechristopher · 5 months

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⠀

In Another Life.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: omg hi, again. You'll soon find out how much I love angst, trauma and just "dark" fics. It's a way to express myself every once in a while. I hope you all like it, if you have any requests in mind, feel free to let me know. I will make it up to you all with some fluff, I promise, lol. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: (not proof-read) this is pure angst, mentions of death, coping with death in general, trauma bonding. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read, please. Have a great day, instead.

Playlist:

It is only 6:00AM and I am up and running, ready to start my long day, although my sluggish gait says otherwise. I always loved waking up so early in the morning – it gave me time to start doing things when people were still sleeping. It is always a struggle to keep myself awake, though.

"I'm outside."

The screen lights up and I can see Chris' name from here – he must be outside already. I sigh and I quickly put my jacket and scarf on, not forgetting my boots, of course. With my bag in my hand, I quickly leave the house, trying to be as quiet as possible so that my mom doesn't wake up.

Chris is waiting in the car, I take a better look at my surroundings – the fog makes it hard for me to see, it's dark and it's cold, and the humidity makes it look like it rained.

"Hey, Chris. Thanks for picking me up." I mumble, he nods with an understanding look on his face. He's got that sickening purple colour under his eyes and his skin is even paler than usual. We match, he looks like a mess, too.

How couldn't he, anyway? It was a difficult day today. It's only been three years and how could we ever forget?

Me and Chris have known each other for a long time. Ever since we were babies – our families were very close. That was until my parents got divorced and we never saw my father ever again; made my mom isolate herself. My father came back one day, asking for forgiveness for leaving like this. Not from my mom, from me. I didn't want to trust him but I still talked to him every now and then. Now, Chris never really liked me and I never really liked him, it's not like we ever had an actual conversation. Before something terrible happened, to the both of us. On the same day. On the same plane. The plane crashed – my father happened to be there and Chris' best friend happened to be there.

We were both devastated so we found ourselves hanging out more than usual – is it called trauma bonding? I think so. That's what we did. Bonded over trauma. Because that's what we needed most; a person who knows and feels what we feel, who goes through the same experience. I don't think it was he healthiest thing to do, but who is really healthy inside on this earth?

"Give me, like.. fifteen minutes. I'll be back, okay?" he says and I give him a reassuring hug, pecking his cheek. I nod, watching him go visit his best friend's grave while I visit my father's.

"I can't believe it's already been three years since you've been gone." I chuckle, making sure everything is clean and the flowers are nicely put in the vase, "right when you were about to actually spend time with me, hm?" I can feel the tears in my eyes, and every time I speak, it's like I'm digging an invisible knife deeper into my heart.

I don't know how long it's been because I'm still cleaning and trying not to think about anything, but I see Chris walking over to me. It's so obvious that he's been crying, but he offers a smile anyway. His nose is red, it's kind of cute.

"You feeling okay?" he wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I nod.

"What did I always tell you? Everything happens for a reason." I chuckle, wiping the tears away from my eyes as we walk away, and towards the car.

"I used to hate hearing that. But I believe it now." he nods and clears his throat, "Connor believed it, too." it took him a while to say his best friend's name without crying. I told him that Connor wouldn't be happy to see him crying like this – that was the only way to make him stop.

"I gotta go to work, now. But we'll meet later, yes?" I say, wrapping my arms around his waist, looking up. The combination of the sky, his tears and his pale skin make his eyes go icy blue, I can't help but smile a little bit. He nods and cups my cheeks, bringing me closer to him to give me a soft kiss on the lips.

I'm not sure what me and Chris have going on. We definitely hang out a lot, we kiss, I basically have all of my stuff in his house, we have sex, but we've never said anything about relationship, or anything like that for that matter. We've been going through the most traumatic and difficult experience in our lives, so I feel like we desperately need the affection but we're the only ones who feel the same. So we just.. do stuff together. I try not to think about it too much.

I definitely not want to think about it when I'm in his arms. We're in front of the fireplace, sitting down on the carpet. I'm sitting in between his legs with my back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrap all the way around my shoulders and knees (that are pressed to my chest), keeping me warm.

"I'm so glad to have you here with me, being by my side on this horrible day, every year." he whispers in my ear and I close my eyes.

"So am I. You're making me feel like I'm not as alone as I thought I was." I whisper back and let my head fall on his shoulder, turning my head so that I'm able to look up at him. We sit in silence for a bit.

"I was thinking.. what you always say. Everything happens for a reason. What if.. what if all of this never happened? What if they were both still alive, what if our families kept being this close, what if we kept hating each other.. would we still find a way to be where we are now?" his voice is low and steady, I can see the fire moving in the reflection of his glistening eyes, "or was this tragedy meant to happen for us to find what we wanted in each other?"

I stay silent for a little bit. I've thought about this a million times and every time makes me go crazier than the previous one, "is love supposed to grow in souls and bodies that are filled with so much pain? Because if so, then it's nothing like what they taught us love would feel like."

"Do you think love is what we feel for each other?" he presses a kiss on my warm cheek.

"I don't know." I say truthfully, "I think that we both find shelter in each other's pain. We feel the need to be heard, to be understood, and then we want to hear the other, to understand their pain. To help each other, to be there whenever they might need, to care."

"Isn't that what love is?" he asks innocently, "in its most tragic form?" he looks me in the eyes and smiles softly.

"I suppose so.. yeah.." I say because, indeed, love could also bloom in shattered hearts, it doesn't always have to be flowers and rainbows, "and to answer your question.. I think I would definitely imagine myself loving you, without all of these." my voice is as soft as it can get.

"I would definitely fall in love with you, too." he says, looking into my eyes. And for a moment, I imagine us just like this. In a life where we would be happier. In a life where we would be able to love each other, without anything holding us back, in a life where we could keep the people that we wanted in our lives. In a life where we would have the space and time to express our feelings, understand our feelings.

"So, stay with me forever and even longer than that.." he says and I smile, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck, all the way up to his cheek and lips, "I might be able to become someone who loves you even in the good times."

"That's a promise, then. Because I'm definitely staying, till I'm ready to love you in the good times, too." I smile and slowly turn around to face him this time, wrapping both of my arms and legs around him, like a koala.

He laughs, he's hugging me and kissing me softly, "want me to make you some hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please."

⠀

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justcallmenikki7 · 1 year

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BTS Reaction To: Past Relationship Trauma

Hyung!Line

Summary: your past relationship with your ex messed you up and you still deal with the trauma, but your boyfriend now reassures you and proves to you that you are safe and loved.

Warnings: past trauma, mentions of anxiety and depression, self-harm, past emotional abuse and mental abuse mentioned, insecurities, angst, fluff, hyung!line being the sweetest boyfriends, self-doubt. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: SELFHARM

W.C.: 2.4k

Notes: heeeey, I’m back! This is an emotional rollercoaster because this is some of the shit, I went through with the boy I told you guys about. At the time I did not realize what was going on, but now that I do, I needed to write about it but with fluff and daydreams about the boys. I have a lot of things to work on because of him, but this gave me some healing and hope that my future S/O can understand where I am coming from on how I feel and that I’m going to be healing. I am healing, but the thought of being vulnerable again is scary, because you know, trusting someone with your heart is scary. But I want to let everyone know that it is okay to heal, it is okay to trip in the process in healing. So, I hope you enjoy this, and it might be hard to read, but take time. I am working on the Maknaes!line, and it should be up soon!

Kim Seokjin:

He started noticing that you have become off a few weeks ago. He did not know what was going on because from his knowledge everything was fine, and you guys were happy. Doing everything that he can, such as having the house clean before you got home from a long day at work, making sure your hoodie, or his because you have claimed it as yours, that you wear at night for bed was warm because he always puts it in the dryer before you go to bed.

It is scaring him because he loves you and does not want to lose you at all because you are his ray of sunshine. Trying to figure it out himself, he realized that you are putting a wall up that he thought he knocked down. He knows that you were mistreated in your last relationship, and it makes you scared that it would happen again. But after a year of proving to you that will not happen, he thought he conquered your demons and got rid of them, but maybe he missed those.

Finally, he approached you about it as he lays in bed with you, getting ready to get to bed.

“Baby? What’s going on?” He asked, grabbing your hands, holding tightly onto them.

Not realizing that those four words made you break down into tears. Freaking out, he pulled you into arms and held onto you tightly, caressing your hair and whispering encouraging words to you, trying to calm you down.

“I’m so scared that somethings going to go bad with us. We’re so happy and healthy that I can’t believe that this is what happens in healthy relationships. Something is not right. This isn’t right. When are you going to get irritated with me and dump me? This must be wrong because this isn’t right.” You choked out, holding tightly onto him.

That is what it was. You fear happiness, and you are not used to it. Seokjin felt like his heart broke because it hurts him to see someone who gives their all to someone and then it gets destroyed over and over. So having someone and something who doesn’t do that is so odd because you are used to that pattern and when it changes, it’s terrifying.

“I know baby. I know. You’ve been hurt so many times that being used to that kind of treatment is familiar and when you get out of that and find healthy… it’s a foreign feeling that you start preparing yourself for downfall. It’s okay to be scared, but please don’t push me away. I want to be here for you and help you. I know it’s hard, and I’ll go at your pace, but please don’t shut me out. I love you so fucking much. How about this. How about we every day sit down for however long and talk about things that are our minds. I know in that pretty head of yours can be your own worst enemy and you get stuck in it. Let me help you get unstuck, okay?”

Looking up at him with teary eyes, you nod your head in agreement. Leaning down, Seokjin presses a kiss on your lips that always makes his heart flutter. He felt you relax in his arms and smile into it.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. Mr. WorldWide needs his Mrs. WorldWide, and he just so happens to have found her when they both needed each other.”

Min Yoongi:

Sometimes Min Yoongi wishes that he could read your mind like Edward Cullen in Twilight because that way he could get your overthinking to stop. He knows what hell you went through with your ex-boyfriend, and he wishes he could beat his ass for what he did to you.

But he does his best to be patient with you because he knows it’s trauma that you carry with you, and something you are working on and that is your constant overthinking.

Now, he doesn’t blame you and can understand and see clearly why you overthink because your ex-boyfriend was a manipulative, narcissistic dick. He fucked with your mind so badly that it took you almost a year to trust your mind and your own thoughts.

Right now, though, he could tell that you wanted to tell him something but kept back tracking, and this is something that he can’t help but to get irritated with. To be clear, it’s not him irritated with you, but irritated at the fact some boy fucked with your head so badly that you’re scared to even explain how you feel on a situation.

“Y-Yoongi, can I talk to you?” You stuttered, confidence nowhere in sight.

“Of course, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, giving you a gentle, loving smile, knowing that approaching him on how you feel so hard because of your past.

Taking a deep breath, you began to fidget with your fingers, and he could tell your anxiety is creeping you onto you. “I know you’ve been busy lately and that it’s been stressful, but I’m just worried that I did something wrong because you have been kind of short with me and not as t

talkative. And I’m sorry if I did something, and I seem clingy, but like I just needed to ask— “

You were cut off by his finger on your lips, shutting you up in a gentle manner.

“No baby, you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I should’ve approached you earlier on this, and I was about to before you came in. I didn’t mean to sound irritated and distant when we messaged each other. I was very caught up in my writing and yesterday the Maknae line was getting on my nerves, so I kind of took my irritation out on you when that was not my intention.”

“So, I didn’t do anything wrong?” Needing to hear the confirmation just one more time from him.

“No, my love, you did nothing wrong, I promise you. I’ll make sure next time to watch out on how I approach you if I’m irritated, I promise.”

Smiling at him with a small smile, he knew that you were still unsure and nervous, which he understood. But you’ve both made more progress in the last six months with you believing him because he made a promise that he will fix you and prove to you that he is not like your ex.

Leaning towards you, he grabbed your face with his hands lovingly and brought your lips to his and kissed you with all the love that he has for you in it. He smiled into the kiss once he felt your smile against his lips.

It takes time, and he knows that there’s still more battles for you both to get through, but he knows you both will get through it together.

Jung Hoseok:

The past couple of weeks, your anxiety has been skyrocketing through the roof to where you have anxiety attacks every single day and Hoseok does not understand why. Hoseok is very familiar with anxiety – having experienced with anxiety with himself – but he does not know on how to approach you on this. You are very secretive with your mental health, besides when it comes to anxiety because it is a part of you, and he knows that you hate that it is. He also does know that your past relationship with your ex, he heard from your best friend that he made you feel bad about your mental health and always made degrading comments about it, especially with the medicine that you take.

Coming home from dance practice, Hoseok was confused on why the house was so quiet. Your car was parked in the driveway and your shoes were in the shoe cubby that was by the front door, so obviously you were home, but the house was deathly quiet. Kicking his shoes off, not thinking about putting them in the shoe cubby, he sat his duffle bag down and began his mission on finding you. Checking the kitchen and living room and not finding you there, he made his way down the hall towards your guy’s bedroom. Entering it, he saw the light that was coming from the bathroom, and he heard some movement coming from in there. Walking straight into the bathroom unannounced, he found you with a razor in your hand and fresh cuts along with your wrist.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” Hoseok asked, panic in his tone.

Looking up at him in shock, you threw the razor away from you, tears coming to surface in your eyes as you broke down completely.

“I-I’m so sorry, I blacked out and-and I could not resist it,” you sobbed out, panicking to grab toilet paper to stop the bleeding. “I-I’m so sorry, please do not be mad at me,” you begged, trying to take care of the wounds on your wrist.

Not saying anything, Hoseok grabbed the washcloth that was laying on the sink and wetting it. Making his way towards you, he gently grabbed your wrist and began to dab at it with the washcloth, his focus was making sure to clean up the mess and getting the bleeding to stop.

After a few quiet minutes – minus your sobs and shaky breaths – he finally spoke, “what happened?” He asked you, voice filled with worry.

“I-I could not control it; my mind became too loud and my thoughts getting the best of me. I tried, Hope, I tried so hard to ignore it, but it took over.”

“What thoughts, baby?” He asked, needing to know what you were thinking.

“That I was becoming too much and not enough. Everything was going so right, too right, and I guess I just could not handle it. I just thought I would be the one to sabotage it and hurt myself before you hurt me so it would be easier to cope with.” You began to sob harder, not being able to take the thought of losing Hoseok. “I fucked up, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, no you did not. You tripped and tripping happens with healing, I’m not going anywhere I promise. We will get you through this, okay? We are in this together, okay? I got you; I promise baby.”

“Okay.” You stuttered out, breathing heavy and mind foggy. But you trust him, because he did not make you feel bad about what happened, and he is still here with you.

Kim Namjoon:

It is hard seeing someone who you love so much hate their self so much to where they are so fragile emotionally and mentally. Some days, they can be doing so good and the next day they are back in their rabbit hole, not being able to take a small thing of criticism and thinking that they cannot achieve anything because of constantly, in their mind, messing up.

This is Namjoon’s thoughts on you. He loves you so much, but seeing you so destroyed from a past relationship and trying to heal yourself still breaks his heart. Just because of this, Namjoon is not going to leave you, he is wanting to fix you. Some people think that this can be exhausting and would give up, but Namjoon is not giving up on you. You both have gotten farther in your healing process, but some things can tip you off. And that thing was losing your father because of your beliefs being different than his, and it crushed you because you began to think that your thinking was not right. Getting out of mentally abusive relationship to where you felt wrong for having your own thought process and having to second guess yourself is a toll. Because, when you had your own opinion on something, your ex would criticize you for thinking the way you did and made you feel bad about it became unbearable. You lost yourself and felt so lost in your own mind that you did not know who you were anymore.

So, coming home to you tonight crying on the couch, Namjoon knew what to do. Setting his belongings down in the entrance, he made his way over to you, taking the blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over you. Sensing his presence, you sat up and wrapped the blanket around yourself before lunging yourself into his arms.

“My love, what happened?” He asked gently, running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp – an act that you love and found comfort in.

“I’m so sorry, I know that this is becoming old, and tiring, but at work, a coworker criticized my work, and I defended it! I defended myself, Joonie, but-but they got to me, making me think what I thought and said was stupid and they did that smirk. They did that smirk and it got to me, when it shouldn’t have. We’ve been working on this, but I could not help it. But it hurt. It made me feel pathetic and stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“Baby, I am so proud of you for standing up for yourself, and that is such huge progress that you have made. I am so, so proud of you, baby. And I know that they got to you, but you have to realize that - wait was it Michael who said that?” He asked, needing to make sure that he knew who it was from your work.

“Yes,” you replied.

Laughing at this confirmation – not at you, but at the fact that this dick who is below you in success at your company is criticizing you since he has not had a promotion in two years while you have in the past year. “Of course, it was him. My love, please do not work yourself up on someone who is less than you. And I know this is hard, but we can get this. Like you said, you defended yourself! Do you know how long you and I have been working on this? For a year and you finally did it! You did it baby, and now our next mission is to work on not caring about what Michael thinks, and not letting this dick make you feel bad about how you feel and think. We got this. Do we have a deal?”

Smiling up at him, you nodded, “but it is going to be hard. He got to me, and this is going to be difficult.”

“And it was difficult for you three months ago to defend yourself, but you finally did it. And I know for a fact that we will get to where you will be able to not care about what people think of you, and how you think and feel. We got this baby.”

Smiling, feeling much better, “we got this.”

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penvisions · 3 months

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return the favor {chapter 21}

Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader

Summary: After an explosive fight the night before, your trio gets ready to depart from Jackson. Finding yourself back on outside the gates, everything seems different. But then again so are you, so are your circumstances.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical angst, canon typical violence, use of weapons, use of guns, use of machete, fighting, violence, reference to previous injuries, reference to past traumas, ptsd symptoms in both joel and bean, self-depreciation, super fucking sad moment in scene two of this one, MAJOR ANGST, yelling, conflict, emotional baggage, talk of outbreak day, medical jargon, reader has a lot of thoughts on a cure for the virus, existentialism

A/N: inspiration for this chapter was 'let it burn' by shaboozy. these two have grabbed a hold of my thoughts and i am writing pages like a mad woman. bean and joel mean so so much to me. hopefully it's all coherent, please let me know what y'all are thinking! i know it's a mess for these two right now an the content is angsty and may be triggering in this part of the story. my inbox is always open, love y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

The morning came quickly, no sleep having been found under the cover of night.

You couldn’t have dosed off for more than a few minutes at a time, an hour at the most spent on the cusp of awareness. That in-between state where you were immobile, and your mind tried it’s hardest to let you slip under but just shy of lying about. It was warm, that was the only consolation of the house offered to you for the night. It wasn’t another night sleeping on the frozen ground and hoping the temperature didn’t drop or the windchill robbed you of breath and feeling. Of constantly waking to check if the other sleeping bags were still rising and falling with the even breaths of those inside.

Sighing, you reached out across the empty bed to stretch out your arms from the curled up position you had adopted. But you sat up suddenly when the spot your hand had reached was warm. As if someone had been sitting on the edge of the bed. As you did so, a thick blanket you didn’t recall seeing when pulling the covers back pooled around your waist.

You heard the front door open and close, but no footsteps came further into the house. Not Tommy coming over to begin the day, but his brother departing on his own.

He must’ve returned after you hid away for the night, biding his time until things calmed down enough for him to enter the house undisturbed. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pictured him laying the blanket over you, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as you slept.

Of him setting on the edge of his own bed, consumed by his thoughts and feelings that had to be so overwhelming he had decided to self-destruct and tear everything around him down in the process.

It hurt. It hurt to picture him alone by his own creation, but still feeling the desire to make sure you were comfortable in wake of that.

But it didn’t mean anything, it couldn’t. He had made it his mission to find the words that would hurt you the most and use them against you. To use your own insecurities against you, point them out and use them as a way to rationalize this course of action. Rationalize abandoning you, you and Ellie.

Joel.

Joel was standing beside one of the horses, the stall gate open as he fastened a saddle to the tall creature, tightening the buckle to make sure it was secure. The horse snickered, signaling to him that you were approaching if your footsteps hadn’t reached him quite yet. When he turned to look over his shoulder, you felt your body twitch, fight or flight activated in a visceral way.

You immediately dropped Ellie’s hand. She reached for it even as her own emotions fluttered up and became overwhelming. But you stepped away, nearly knocking into Tommy in the process.

When he looked up from his task completely, his eyes met yours and you turned on your feet and walked away without a second thought. Your name followed, but you didn’t turn back. A chorus of your name sounded all around as you fled the stables on shaky legs, face hot and heart thudding painfully hard in your chest. Head dizzy with the brief encounter of a man who you hadn’t expected to see ever again too much after a fitful night.

A hand closed around your arm and you thrashed against it, whipping around and landing a punch on whoever it was right in the middle of their chest.

“Get off of me!” Terror colored the air, the pure feeling of being trapped. Of being touched by someone who you didn’t give permission to. But the person moved toward you, grunting from the force of the hit you had landed on them, breath being drawn back in to recover. Their arms came around you, cradling you to their chest and hands holding the back of your head as you lost the feeling in your limbs. Body going slack in a last-ditch effort of self-preservation.

The person didn’t expect that, and they lost their footing, knees hitting the ground hard when you jostled along with them. But they tried their best to not let you land on your own numb limbs. You could barely hear anything over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, your own name being called out softly not breaking through. Eye blinking rapidly, you tried to clear your blurring vision, though it wasn’t from tears. You had exhausted all of those last night.

“We gotta stop, darlin’.” Joel’s somber tone finally broke through, his voice thick with tears he wasn’t letting fall. They were a shine in his beautiful eyes when you looked up at him with an unfocused gaze. Vision blurring and sharpening in a rapid succession. His own softening when he realized you were barely there, barely present under the direct attention he was giving to you now. You watched the wrinkles around his brow furrow, deepening as he tried to coax something, anything out of you.

But you were unable to comply, unable to give him anything else. He had taken everything already, burned down what he didn’t like with vicious words that had festered all night. Taken ahold of you and ruined the rest. You had nothing for him anymore.

“I-I can’t keep feeling like my chest is gonna cave in every time I lose sight of you.” He murmured into your hair, leaning down to speak only to you. Distantly, you were aware of the watching eyes of Ellie and Tommy, just inside the threshold of the stables. Both uncertain of what to do, if they should separate you from each other or let this play out. Joel was holding you with such care, such caution and it made them both pause. “My breathing gets stuck, it hurts, darlin’. Feels like knives when you get hurt, spreads all over my body, it numbs me. When I can’t help you, when I can’t see you or reach you, call you back to the present. And that’s not good, we both know that.”

“Joel…” You cautiously treaded, voice sounding foreign and so unlike your own even to your own ears as they steadily cleared. Unsure why he was doing this. Now, of all times. He had already made his case, tore you down as he self-destructed. But he was trying to explain now the reason he had done so in such a catastrophic way. Just like how he was trying to make amends with Ellie, giving her the choice he had so selfishly stolen from her on the same path of destruction just the night before.

“It’s not…it’s not easy. And the further we’ve traveled, the more time we spend out here. It’s just…it’s not something that can last. And for that, I am sorry. I-I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I fired at you yesterday, you have to know that was all projection. You are strong, you are capable, you are so god damn smart, darlin’. But…it’s not…” His gloved hands were strong on the back of your head, on the small of your back despite the way they ached in the cold of the early morning. One last hold on you before he let you go. You knew him, you could read him, and it was too real of an understanding that he was trying to spell out for you now, even through the fog taken over your entire being.

You had known, deep down. That the feelings didn’t mean anything, even if you acknowledged them. They didn’t change anything, didn’t alter the dynamic, only gave it a depth that was dangerous.

“I’m the one who isn’t strong enough, can’t move fast enough. Can’t keep up with everything thrown our way to get here or what’s to come. But I would try until my last breath, darlin’, please believe that. And that’s the problem.”

“Because you do feel something for me.” You didn’t argue, didn’t try to call him out. You simply wanted to understand, the hurt of his words still rooted deep in your mind and heart.

“…yes.” He finally admitted, finally decided to be honest with you about what had begun to develop over the journey here. But it didn’t bring you any joy now, to know that the man felt for you the way you had begun to felt for him. It was damnation, he had been correct in his description. Because you both knew that clinging to that spark was far more dangerous than trying to cultivate it into a fully grown tangible thing. It would prompt the most resilient of things from you both, violent in their tendencies and ugly in the worst ways if picked up upon by others. Leverage to use against one or both of you, something that would bring about death.

“Okay.” Was all you could say, face calm despite the storm raging inside of you. It was breaking, beginning to wane and soon it would disappear. It would leave you empty, a gaping hole in the thick plaster you had slathered and smoothed over yourself in order to make it in the world as it was today. Having already been torn down once by a man with careful words and hands, capable of helping you to create something when nothing seemed to matter.

He had given you hope, but the man standing in front of you now was different. Joel wasn’t feeding into the same notion, instead adding his own layer of solution over the walls he had stumbled through in clumsy motions. He wouldn’t be helping you to dismantle it, too afraid of what it would mean. Too afraid of what it would symbolize in this world. So unlike the man before him, but so similar in the ways that he had nestled himself into the confines of your heart.

Your arms didn’t feel like your own as they reached up and snaked around his neck, your legs didn’t feel like your own as they moved to straddle one of his own and give you purchase to embrace him back. Your lips didn’t feel like your own as they met his in a chaste kiss. A goodbye that wasn’t bittersweet, but venomous. His tears finally fell, dampening the skin of your neck.

Overcoming the disastrous events of yesterday would take time, something of a luxury neither of you had. He was trying to make amends, trying to make you understand. That’s all he could do, was try. And all you could do in return was take the heavy stones he had tied around his limbs and loosen them. Let them fall away and take them on yourself so he wouldn’t have to carry them. You had before and you could do it again.

“I can’t go with you.” You whispered, lips brushing against his as the words sprouted from you. The truth too painful to admit at full volume, too painful to say at all. But you had to. You had to tell him you understood it was the right thing, that he understood it was the right thing. Distance. Perhaps long-lasting separation that turned into only once knowing each other.

“I know.”

He helped you to stand back up, putting distance between you both as he walked back into the stables. Tommy trailed after him, both men giving you a moment with a confused and concerned Ellie. She was too young to understand that despite the apology, the bridge had been burned and it was only one of you who would take her to where she needed to go.

You turned to her, not wanting to do this, not wanting her to see how hurt you were but knowing that whatever she did glimpse, it was absolutely not aimed at her. “I’m not mad at you, Ellie. I just…I’m not good enough to get you where you need to go if he’s there. And he’s not good enough to do it if I’m there. He made it clear as crystal he has one care he’s allowing himself in the world and it’s you.”

“You’re being selfish! I know he’s an ass. He yelled at me too, but look! I’m trying, I’m giving him a second chance. Why can’t you?” Her words were sharp, cutting into you like the blade you wielded and you took each one without a grimace.

"Ellie, that man is your future. He will protect you until his last breath. But we can’t all travel together again.” Your eyes moved from her deep frown and her hands gripped tight on the second bag that dangled by her legs to the figure of Joel leading a singular horse out of the stables. “I have so much care and love for you, but it’s not a good fit. All three of us, it was always supposed to be him, Ellie.

I’m not able to protect you, I’ve been out of it most of our trip, unable to do anything without his help. He’s the one who can get you there, he’s the one who is capable. I’m so sorry for making you feel like you could count on me, I’m not the one to place your bets on. He is.”

"So what, it all meant nothing? The whole fucking journey here didn't mean anything to you?"

"Ellie, please listen to me and hear me, it meant everything to me. but it's past and there are some things I have to take care of."

“You’re just gonna leave me? Like he tried to, like he regrets trying to do. But you’re actually gonna fucking do it, huh? You’re a real piece of work. So much for sticking with me. Fucking liar.” She stalked off, refusing to hear anything else you had to say. “Go, get the fuck away from me! I never want to see you again!”

Joel’s hand curling around her shoulder as she crossed the threshold of the stables made them the perfect wounded pair and you turned your back on them as they began to walk away, hoping that this was all for the best. That you were making the right move.

You were still at the stables when Tommy returned, his pack still over his shoulders but his rifle was missing. He was silent as he entered the stall you were readying a horse in. It was a beautiful animal, with white and brown patches all over. You figured the coloring would help you to blend into the landscape easily, having a long journey ahead of you.

“Where will you go?” Tone so unlike his brother, though the twang of a Texan accent curled around his words all the same.

“Home.” You grunted as you tightened a bag to hang from the saddle, the pack holding a small collection of camp kitchen supplies. Maria had tried to give you as much to work with as possible, not wanting you to starve or be without a source of heat should more storms greet you outside the gates.

“And where is that?”

“California. Should’ve gone back a long time ago, but…things never worked out.” You could sense the curiosity in him, so unlike his brother who hid his emotions. He had been nothing but kind to you, even if you hadn’t directly interacted with him. But if he was related to Joel, he was a good man. Indulging him, you found yourself opening up to him with more directness than you had with anyone before. Wanting a lifeline here in Jackson should you find your way back here. “Tennessee was home when the Outbreak happened, stuck around there for a while….then found myself in Boston. I remember catching glimpses of you with Joel, every so often. And then suddenly you disappeared. Wasn’t ever sure what happened, but I figured a loss is a loss.”

“Yesterday was such a hectic day. With falling on your arm and everything…will you be okay?” He followed you out of the stall, out of the stables, the horse letting you lead it leisurely along. Two shadows waiting close by, a horse already saddled and ready beside them.

“I hope so.” You offered him a soft smile, grateful for his concern.

“Will you be okay?” His inflection changed, eyes looking between both of your own as he moved closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. You sighed, trying to shake the thoughts of what happened today from your mind, knowing they would be revisited tonight when you try to rest.

“I’ve done pretty good so far, think I can manage to get over your big brother.” You knocked his shoulder with your own. His arms suddenly came around you in a hug, his chin hooking over one of them and nearly knocking your hat from atop your head. But you didn’t flinch, too worn out to fight against comfort if someone wanted to offer it to you. With warmth blossoming in your chest, you let your head lean into his own and closed your eyes.

“Thank you.” His low voice was strong, emotions strong as you hesitantly returned the sudden embrace. “Thank you for helping get him here.”

“Thank you for being alive,” You whispered back, the worry of how this all could’ve turned out weighing heavily on you even in of luck and chance. Of the sheer determination Tommy must’ve exhibited to not only leave with the Fireflies all those years ago, but to actually leave the organization and not find himself on a hit list. That he found refuge here in Jackson, a life here in Jackson, it was all so overwhelmingly wonderful. For a man who had been down so many wrong paths to find a good one to travel on after so long. That it allowed him to not only survive but live, given him the opportunity to reconnect with his brother.

Given him the chance to make something out of the wreckage of this world that would last.

“You have a home here.” He leaned back, arms still around you as he looked down at you, trying to find the right words for a goodbye that wouldn’t add weight to the events since arriving. “Maria likes you, sees you. I like ya just based on the fact that you’re not afraid to holler back if someone comes at ya. Can throw a hell of a right hook too. We’ll be here for you, whenever you decide to return.”

You nodded once, allowing him to help you mount the horse and followed that morning’s patrol through the town and toward the gate.

The railroad was easiest, so you stuck close to it when you could. The open land setting your nerves on high alert, there was no coverage out here on the plains. But you were hoping that the advantage of having a horse now would allow you a good head start if someone tried you, the rifle on your shoulder too. Maria did well, giving you everything you might need. More help than you could have ever hoped for, including the map you had found in the pocket of your new coat, detailing the route Joel and Ellie would be taking.

You had stood still for a long while, beside the horse you had let loose to get a drink from a small creek. The map tight in your gloved hand as you stared out toward the expanse of Colorado. The state line between Wyoming and Idaho close by, only a few minutes travel. Torn between moving in the opposite direction of them, worried for them and the possible threats that awaited them. But they were strong, stronger without you. They would be okay, you had to hope they would be okay. Tucking the map back into your pocket, you clicked your tongue to get the horse to come back to you.

Mounting it easily, you made your way west and crossed the state line.

Night fell and with it you hunkered down in the mild protection of the woods. The horse laying down and allowing you to lean up against their warm body, one blanket thrown over his neck to help stave off some of the cold. You had your sleeping bag curled over your shoulders, unzipped to make a small shield against the biting chill, but even with all the supplies and advice and kind words Maria had offered you, you were still utterly and completely alone. The fire crackling in front of you did nothing to warm the cold that had taken root in your chest, not born of the weather. It would only defrost with the snickering laughter of a sarcastic teenager, in the rumbling chuckle of a stoic man, in the lightness they both inspired in you despite the endless circumstances that decided to rain down upon you all.

Your heart ached for the gruff grunts Joel would make when settling down for the night, either in front of the fire for an imitation of a family dinner or for the attempt at getting some sleep for the evening. But it was a thing of the past, something you wouldn’t hear again. Alone. Completely and wholly alone. A sentence of your own making, a reality brought on by your foolish naivety that you were now subject to. Journey now shrouded in the selfish need to seek answers to questions that had plagued you for far too long. No longer intertwined with that of a brooding older man who had space in his heart enough for a girl who hid her pain behind terrible jokes. No longer a part of that dynamic, unsure if you ever were supposed to even be a part of it in the first place but having forced yourself into the fold when faced with returning behind the walls of the quarantine zone.

Spit back out in such a damning way.

Sighing, you stretched a boot out to stamp the small fire out. Shrugging tighter against the horse behind you, prompting them to turn their head and snuff against your hat in a teasing way. He was a good animal, easy to direct, willing to follow, gentle. But still, you were alone. Surrounded only by the bare trees of the wilderness you had to cross.

It was the fifth day after departing from Jackson when the universe decided you were ready for it to pick back up the punches. Tracking your progress on the map as you tried to calculate how many hours or steps it would take to trek through the dense woods that would get you through the state of Idaho and into the desert landscape of Nevada. It had been a discussion, between you and Maria, which route would be the most logical.

Either to gear up impossibly so in order to endure the remaining time of winter through the pacific northwest and make your way south through the long state of California to your hometown. Or to put up with the snow and ice for the duration of traveling through a corner of one state before finding relative refuge in the desert landscape that made up most of the south west part of the country. It would mean more exposure through the desert, but it would also mean lesser chances of running into people or Infected. More reliance on supplies and rationing.

After admitting that you weren’t very fond of the cold, of winter in general, maps of different states had been brought out from where they were collected in the council’s meeting place. She had allowed you to look them over, wanting to give you the best chance she could at accomplishing what you were set out to do. To help you, to help you find what you needed to in order to move on and begin to heal on your own terms. A journey she did not envy, but one she would do whatever she could to give you the best chance of returning to Jackson someday.

She liked you, came her admittance over a cup of coffee. You had sought her out in the early morning before Tommy had awoken to ready himself for the task his brother had desperately asked him to take over. Maria had been awake, her kitchen light visible from the house you were in across the street. Not having the courage to bother her otherwise in the wake of being torn down so completely by someone who you thought had accepted you. Hesitant to reach out and force a connection with the woman who had a literal commune’s worth of worries on her shoulder, paired with the ups and downs of pregnancy in a time where every aspect of it was washed in uncertainty.

But she saw you. Most likely told of the disastrous confrontation that had happened by her husband. Perhaps seeing you more then than she had previously.

You had initially planned to take Ellie to where she needed to go, staying with her for however long it would require hearing the Fireflies out. To apply logic and statistics to their case of proposed action with Ellie now in their hands. With her blood and tissue at their relative disposal in order to run tests, to assuage that she truly was immune in tests and medical procedures that would warrant a solid base to work off of. You weren’t being honest though, with either Joel or Ellie. You didn’t think it was possible. You didn’t think the creation of something so expansive that it would eradicate the very real and adaptive being of cordyceps would be easy, if at all possible. In this lifetime or the next.

The world had shifted. And there was no way to turn back the hand of time on something so complete and expansive. The world had decided what the new order was, the best way to endure it was to adapt. Alter ways of thinking to align with it, accept it. Hell, cordyceps had found a way to adapt in a relatively short twenty years. Evolution almost fast tracking in order to preserve itself for a longer duration. Another thing to consider when thinking about overcoming it. Adaptability meant survival, and if it was fast acting then surely it would find a way to take on elements of a vaccine or cure and circumvent the attempt.

The issue didn’t lie solely in the science and medical proficiency of the staff, but in the resources that it would take to even jumpstart such research. Ellie was only one person, so young and developed into her own mindset, she would’ve listened to them. Turned to you for your opinion, your guidance.

And you would’ve been honest with her then. In the face of whatever plan the Fireflies had concocted up while playing the waiting game. Playing the hoping game. That she would have to most likely remain at their facilities, if they even had any up and operating on the level they would require for such an egotistical task of altering the shift the world had deemed to make. That she would have to give herself over wholly to them, to their ministrations. That she could weaken her immune system in the process, fall victim to some other illness or virus in the efforts to find one for the outbreak. That it would be a shadow of a life, with no guarantee that it would make a difference, let alone a universal one.

That you believed it was hopeless.

And then you would’ve told her of your hometown, beginning the journey in that direction with the determination to show her the other coastline. To help her find another meaning for her life to have worth. Even if it was simply being alive. It meant so much these days, to simply be alive.

Though your thoughts were zoned out on an endless play of ‘what if’ ‘then what’ that didn’t matter anymore, you were on alert as you continued on. The sun trying to break through the cloud coverage in the last dredges of the day.

Just as your foot came down in another, countless step you swooped down to cloak yourself behind the fallen trunk of a pine tree. Ears straining and chest hurting with the effort to quiet your breathing, you could hear the distant sound of branches crunching, people walking among the wooded area just like you were. One voice sounded feminine, the other masculine. It was an easy conversation between them, a simple request to gather kindling for a fire since night would fall within the hour.

They weren’t speaking English, as least not completely, the voices sounding in a mixture of it and Spanish. Familiar but yet so wedged into the crevices of your mind after years of not using your household language. Such a tantalizing siren song that would allow for easier connection with the people you otherwise knew nothing about. Closing your eyes, you felt more than the pull of a weak desire to announce yourself, take a risk of introducing yourself in much the same way.

As soon as their voices seemed to move away, you pushed yourself up from where you were hidden and turned the other way. Not wanting to be around people after the disastrous attempt of connecting with someone so fresh and painful, a weight that you’re not sure would ever lift from your mind and heart. Resigned to be a singular soul wandering around the desolate landscape of what was once the world.

You were about to turn away when you heard a shuffle far too close for comfort. Followed by the hesitant call of something you hadn’t heard in over two decades. Your name. Your full name.

Head jerking around, rifle aimed at the ready; you gazed into a pair of eyes so similar to your own.

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

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At the Cabaret Pt. 3 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: A day at the races goes horribly wrong and Tommy falls through on one of his promises. Lenore pays the ultimate price for the boy from Small Heath, and she did it for love. But did she do it for nothing? Tommy was too late but can he fix what he caused to break?

Warnings: READ THESE!! Graphic description of sexual assault, blood, physical abuse, r*pe, penetration, objectification, degradation, sexism, trauma, injuries. This is a heavy chapter, please please please don't read if any of the warnings are triggering or upsetting. This is the most intense scene of the trilogy. This is not intended to romanticize any of the previously stated elements. You can skip this and still understand.

word count: 5015k

Off To The Races- Lana Del Rey 🎶

Where Did You Sleep Last Night- Iridium 🎵

What Was I Made For- Billie Eilish 🎶

Read warnings before continuing!

She dressed in a dark red flapper dress, decorated with tiny fake rubies, black beads, and fringe. She had black gloves and a black studded headband to pair. Lucy helped her get ready, choosing earrings and pinning her hair in place. When she heard the loud honk of an automobile, she rushed to the window and saw Tommy below, looking either way on the pavement as people walked past, mothers clutching their children.

“I’ll be back later this evening.” She grabbed her shawl and a handbag and waved goodbye to Lucy. Tommy stubbed out his cigarette when he saw her come out through the front door. Her flapper style dress ended at her knees, the tassels danced as she moved, like every particle of her being was excited for the day.

“Do you like it?” She asked and twirled for him, fanning out her skirt to show the detail she’d put into the decoration.

“It’s perfect.” He nodded and opened the side door for her and helped her in. The leather seats were cold in the December air and she moved closer to Tommy for warmth. He closed the drivers’ side door and threw the clutch, the engine started with a rattly enthusiasm. She fought the urge to slip her hands across his thighs to warm them. To rest her head upon his shoulder like she would have her brother if he was still alive. Tommy stared straight ahead at the black road splitting the apartment blocks on either side of the road.

“Have you ever been to the races before?” He asked her, glancing over as he drove.

“No, no one’s ever asked me before.” She smiled and smoothed her dress, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“As am I.” He agreed and she watched as his eyes became more narrowed as they left the city, traveling on dirt roads to the tracks outside of Birmingham. Tommy had been interested in horses when he was a boy too. That was another thing about Tommy that never changed.

“Do you have a horse in the race?” She asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, this is strictly for future business ventures. Everyone knows that business gets done at the tracks.” He took out a cigarette from his breast pocket and drove with one hand on the wheel, the other lighting the cigarette.

“Right…” She agreed hesitantly and felt her stomach sink. Why did she have such a bad feeling about the afternoon?

They neared the massive arena where the tracks were located and Tommy hopped out of his seat and ran over to her side before she could open her own door.

“So chivalrous.” She laughed.

“It’ll make up for all the shit I have to do to get us inside.” He grumbled to himself and coaxed her along, a hand held protectively behind her back.

“What are you talking about?” She whispered, walking as quickly as she could in her heels.

“Peaky Blinders aren’t exactly allowed into the main building where Kimber and his men host their get-togethers.” He shrugged and directed her around the side of one building.

“Then why are we trying to get in there, Tommy.” She pulled at his jacket, trying to get him to slow down.

“I think I’ll have to boost you up into the window so you can open the door from the inside.” He talked distractedly to himself.

“Tommy!” She exploded and tore his attention away from the building. “What am I doing here?” She narrowed her eyes and frowned, deeply suspicious now. He looked away and back again. “Please don’t tell me you’re using me for bait or some shit like that, Tommy.”

“Not bait, just a… distraction.” He corrected her.

She scoffed, “this is fucked up, Tommy. You’re leaving me in the asp’s nest while you go do some business?” She tried to shove him but he stood strong, unmoving when she put her hands on him.

“This was part of the deal, Lenore.” Tommy whispered seriously.

“What happened to friendship, Tommy?” She snapped, fearful tears spilling over her eyelashes. “You’re going to let Kimber do whatever he wants with me. That’s why we’re here at the tracks, isn’t it? Because he owns the whole fucking place?” She gasped, realizing his whole plan in an instant. Tommy looked down at his shoes and said nothing, struggling to find words. She tried to brush past him but he held her shoulders and pressed her against the side of the building.

“Nore, I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let it get that far. I’ll get in there to stop him before he does anything to you, ok? I know this is a lot to ask of you but we need a distraction. We’re going to take over the tracks, Lenore. It’s happening today,” his face was inches from her’s, “I need you. I need you to be brave, Nore.” He looked between her eyes and licked his lips, waiting for her to nod.

“Ok.” She finally said and wiped the tears from her cheek. “I’ll expect you to come to more of my shows after this. It’s only fair.” She tried to joke and he smiled.

“Nice try.” He patted her cheek and stepped back. “Alright,” he lowered his hands and made a platform out of them, “come on.”

“Fuck me,” She sighed defeatedly. “Move closer to the window, please.” She directed him against the wall and stepped onto his hands, pushing herself onto the open window ledge. The window was too narrow to swing her leg over so she edged herself over the side slowly.

“Give me a minute,” she gritted her teeth, her breast spilling out of her dress as she prepared herself to fall forward onto the floor.

“Do you need a push?” Tommy asked almost humorously.

“If you touch my ass, I’ll kill you.” She growled and pushed against the inside wall, tumbling over and landing heavily on her side in what looked like a back office. It took her a second to get her breath back before she could stand.

“You ok in there?” Tommy called down below.

“Coming.” She groaned and fiddled with the locked doorknob. She reached above the door frame and found a spare key. She unlocked the door and pulled Tommy inside.

“You could’ve warned me to wear something more flexible.” She gestured to her flapper dress and her askew headband.

“I’ll make sure to do that nextime.” He said too seriously. He straightened her headband and smoothed down her bobbed hair.

“Do I have any runs in my stockings?” She twirled and Tommy trailed his eyes down each leg, carefully examining them for any rips or runs.

“No.” He cleared his throat and fixed his hat over his forehead, casting his eyes into shadow. He walked to the door of the office and peered out, glancing each way to ensure the coast was clear. “Ready?” He asked, reaching out his open hand to her and she took it. “Come on.” He pulled her along and they scurried through the office hallways up to the main building. She couldn’t stop smiling as he directed her through the disordered back hallways, littered with bespeckled men with stacks of gambling papers.

“Excuse us!” She giggled, holding Tommy’s hand tighter and he smiled.

“Up here, hurry!” He called over his shoulder and she followed obediently.

They went through a set of double doors that led out into the normal part of the main building with guests. As the doors swung closed behind them, Tommy draped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. She switched into character alongside him and allowed him to lead her to the wide room, guarded by two men in the racetrack’s uniform. Tommy greeted the men and gave them a false name. “Theodore Whiting.” He put his free hand in his pocket, showing off his gold watch and the men nodded.

“And the lady, sir?” One man asked.

“She’s Lady Lenore of Birmingham. Haven’t you heard of her?” He asked accusingly and she smiled flirtatiously.

“Maybe I just look different with all my clothes on, eh boys?” She laughed and the men blushed.

“Excuse me, please go in.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and followed Tommy inside. He looked around for Kimber and spotted him at a large table on the opposite side of the room. He was smoking a cigar and talking to his lawyer/accountant, Lenore still wasn’t sure which. He was wearing a pinstripe suit with a red pocket square stuffed into his breast pocket. His greasy graying hair stuck to his head like a second skin.

“What am I supposed to do, Tommy?” She asked him quietly. “This isn’t the Cabaret.”

He looked down at her and gestured to the dance floor.

“Do you dance?” He asked.

“Only if I’m asked properly, Tommy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. He rolled his blue eyes and sighed.

“Lenore Panning, will you dance with me?” He asked slowly, trying to conceal the smile she prompted from him.

“Yes.” She placed one hand on his shoulder and took his hand in the other. He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping a box of space between them. He led her into a version of the foxtrot that involved more hopping than stepping. She followed his lead, mimicking his smiles and moments of seriousness.

“I’m going to move us over towards Kimber’s table. I want you to smile and laugh like you’re in love with me, Nore.” He moved them across the dancefloor and she did as she was told, laughing and smiling at imaginary things he was saying to her.

“Tommy Shelby!” Kimber called when he saw them dancing near their table. Tommy turned and smiled neatly, his teeth tucked behind his lips. Kimber stood and pointed at Lenore with a raised eyebrow.

“How’d you get Lady Lenore of Birmingham to come out with you, Shelby?” His voice was friendly and jovial but she knew he was angry.

“I asked and she said yes. Would you like a turn with her?” He stepped back, directing Kimber to take over. Kimber laughed and stubbed out his cigar.

“I’ll tell you what, Shelby. I’ll have a few dances with the girl while you tell my men exactly what you’re doing here. Deal?”

Tommy nodded, “Great.” He went to sit beside the men at the table and pulled out a cigarette. Kimber took her hand roughly and led her to the dance floor.

“What the fuck are doing here with a fucking Shelby, eh?” He sneered down at her and she tensed against his hands.

“Gee, Mr. Kimber, I just went because he asked me.” She shrugged and pouted. His grip on her waist and her had prevented her from shaking too noticeably.

“So you’d do anything to get here, eh? If I knew you were that desperate to go to the races, I’d have fucked you myself.” His words were frightening and his grip tightened, she suppressed a pained squeal.

“Please, Mr. Kimer, you’re hurting me.” She pleaded beneath her breath, allowing her character’s strength to slip.

“Oh, shut up. You knew what you were doing with that dance the other night. You don’t get to take from me without paying me back.” He took both of her hands and pulled her deeper into the crowd of dancers.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you want to dance?”

“I want to get you away from that fucking gypsy Blinder. He should know what’s mine.” He snarled and pulled her through the crowd on the opposite side of the dance floor, towards the door leading out of the large room. She looked back and spotted Tommy speaking discreetly with the attorney. She looked threatening and stoic beneath the hateful gaze of Kimber’s men lining the opposite side of the table. She tried to yell out for Tommy but Kimber yanked her off balance and pulled her through the door into an empty sitting room. He pointed at the man standing outside the door, “don’t let anyone in here or I’ll fucking shoot your cock off, ok?”

He slammed the door closed and locked it, his greasy hair flopped over like a bad toupee. She shivered and her stomach clenched in fearful anticipation. He took her arm again and dragged her into a second room, the men’s bathroom. The lights were off and only the light from the window lit the room.

“What are you doing?” She cried out as he threw her down on the cold white tile. She bruised her elbow on the hard surface and yelped in pain.

“You’re just a fucking whore. I’m tired of niceties. You should have given this to me the other night but you didn’t. Now do what you’re paid for and lie fucking still!” He yelled at her. She backed herself up against the wall and he pulled her back to the floor by her hair. She kicked at him, hitting his crotch. He dropped her and groaned.

“You’re a fucking horrible whore.” He growled darkly, blocking the door to leave.

“That’s because I’m not a fucking whore, Kimber!” She screamed.

“Well now you are.” He taunted and locked the bathroom door behind him. She rushed him and he punched her hard on her right cheekbone. She fell on the floor and cradled her cheek. He took the opportunity to hold her down, sitting on her stomach and undid his belt. Argrily he threw off his jacket that was restricting him and tried to undo his belt again. He kicked her legs hopelessly, tears streaming down her face, scarring her cheeks with kohl. She grabbed his arms.

“Please don’t do this! I don’t want to!” She tried to push him but everytime she started to sit up, he forced her head down hard against the tile.

“Good whores don’t talk.” He spat on her face and she wiped it away distractedly, unable to process what was happening. He pulled up her dress and ripped down her underwear.

“Tommy!” She tried to scream but he clamped a hand over her mouth, holding her head against the ground.

“You’re his little fucking pet, aren’t you?” He spat, “full of surprises aren’t we? Well, I’ll be done with you soon enough.” He took out his penis and rubbed it aggressively trying to come to an erection. She almost laughed at how small he was and how hard it was for him to get it up. It was all too much to process and her brain started to shut down.

…

Tommy laid it all out for Kimber’s men at the table. He explained to them that his men were currently unarming the men who terrorized the working-class men in the bathrooms for money and gambling cards, the men that Kimber couldn’t run out of his business because they were protected by a local Italian group. His offer was simple and straightforward. The Peaky Blinders would protect the track and Kimber’s patrons for a large, undisclosed, amount of money. The attorney was interested and asked to see how much money Tommy was talking about. Tommy told him and Kimber’s men all chuckled.

“You really think we’re going to pay that?” The attorney asked.

“Yes, I do because if you don’t then those goons are going to come back and scare away your largest percentage of clientele. You’ll go more bankrupt than you already are and close. That suit’s looking a little threadbare.” He argued.

“It's Kimber’s decision.” The attorney said finally and they all looked for him in the crowd. Tommy stood, carefully scanning the room for any sight of Lenore.

“Where are they?” He asked the attorney who shook his head.

“I don’t-”

“Where the fuck are they? You better tell me now or the whole fucking deal is off. I’ll take my men and go.” He grabbed the attorney by the lapels, spit flying around them. The attorney started shaking.

“I- I don’t know!”

Tommy dropped him back in his seat and raced through the crowd of people. “Lenore!” He called again and again as the band continued to play. He ran to the entrance and shouted at the men in their uniforms, “did the woman who came in with me leave this way?” They shook their heads.

“No, sir.” They responded and Tommy nodded.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK. Tommy thought as he raced to the back wall where there was a door. He tried to get past the man guarding it but he pushed him away.

“Are they in there?” He shouted. The man didn’t respond and kept his eyes on the distant wall. “I said are they in there, you fucking bastard!” He shouted at the man’s face and pushed him up against the wall with all of his force. The man sputtered and struggled against Tommy’s weight. “You don’t like this do you, eh? Imagine how that girl feels in there, sick bastard!” He growled and slashed the man with his cap, blood seeping out of the man’s face where he had been sliced. He fell to the ground and crawled away.

Shouting erupted at the front and Tommy turned. He saw Arthur and John force their way into the room, followed by a small army of Tommy’s Romani kin. “Watch them!” Tommy pulled a gun and directed it at Kimber’s men. “Everyone else, OUT NOW!” He yelled and shot a bullet into the ceiling, silencing the band and dancers who rushed out. He tried the door but it was locked so he kicked it repeatedly with his thick boot heel.

“Lenore!” He shouted with each kick. He took a few steps away from the door and slammed his shoulder into the lock, splintering it away from the wall. He pushed the door open and looked around the room. There were two doors leading into bathrooms. The door to the men’s bathroom was closed and he could hear muffled screams escape from under the crack in the door.

“Lenore!” She yelled again and pounded on the door. He could hear squeaks and cries from the other side and tried to break down the door.

…

With one hand on her face and the other one to guide him inside her, he assaulted her. It disgusted to hear him get-off inside her as she was forced to lie still against the ground. She felt herself floating outside of her body, she imagined it was her character that Kimber was assaulting, not her, but it didn’t stop the disgust and nausea that pushed itself through her subconsciousness. She heard loud noises outside and yelling, then a gunshot and Kimber stopped for a second.

“It sounds like your little boyfriend found out where you are.” He laughed and moved his hips faster, his pathetic excuse for a penis probing her like a dull needle. She sobbed and gagged on the stifling situation that choked her. “Almost there.” He laughed and grunted loudly. She looked up at the ceiling and tried to scream for Tommy but the hand against her mouth silenced her. “I’m gonna finish inside you, doll. I bet Tommy’ll like that, eh?” He completed a few more pitiful thrusts until he moaned loudly and spasmed into her. She started fully screaming, pleading to be knocked unconscious so she didn’t have to hear him or feel him anymore. She felt disgusting and gagged against his hand.

“Oh it wasn’t that bad, was it?” He mocked her and pulled out. When he shoved himself back into his pants he grabbed her chin and squeezed her jaw painfully.

“You’re not so special now, are you?” He ripped away from her and buckled his pants. The door to the bathroom shook violently and Kimber stood above her, a disturbing grin on his face.

“Tommy!” She screamed weaky and Kimber kicked her hard in the cunt and she screamed in pain. She was pretty sure that she was bleeding now and sure enough, when she dragged a finger against her vagina, blood coated her fingertip.

“Lenore!” Tommy screamed from the outside and the door shook again.

“She’s alright, Shelby! I just took what was rightfully mine, nothing more. You can have what’s left.” He bent over her again and clutched her throat in his hand, her face turned pink. “You enjoyed it didn’t you, doll?” He sneered and she cried.

“You hurt me.” Was all she could say and he laughed.

“Awww, did I now? Too fucking bad, whore.” He slapped her hard and she whimpered weakly, beginning to lose consciousness. The door flew open and Tommy raised his pistol at Kimber. Kimber stumbled backwards against the wall, hands raised at the level of his chest.

“Now, now, Tommy. Don’t do something stupid.” He warned.

Tommy nodded, “alright,” and shot Kimber in the head. Kimber’s body fell back against the wall and slumped slowly to the floor. Blood spattered across the room on Lenore’s face and she crawled backwards away from Kimber’s bloody body, trailing a small stream of her own blood until she reached one of the sinks and held onto the porcelain lip. She hyperventilated and sobbed, shaking so bad that she couldn’t hold the sink without her fingers losing their grip. Tommy dropped to his knees and cupped Lenore’s face in her hands. Seeing his face, she finally remembered her anger.

“You promised, Tommy! You promised!” She screamed and hit his chest with her closed fits. He took it and nodded.

“I know, I know. I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t imagine that he would do something quite like this…”

“What? Something so fucking violent? It’s rape, Tommy. How else could it be?” She struck his chest weakly and sobbed. Tommy looked over at the trail of blood and clenched his jaw. His hands slacked and went to her underarms.

“I’m going to pick you up, ok?” He pulled her out from underneath the sink and scooped her up. Her crotch sent shocks of pain up her spin and she gritted her teeth. “It’ll be ok, Nore.” He said, his own voice wavered slightly at the sight of her pain. He carried her out to the main room. Arthur and John looked over concerned.

“John, get her to the car. Wait for me there. We need to take her to the hospital.” He handed Lenore off to John who carried her out and down the stairs to where their car waited in a lot. Tommy turned the table of Kimber’s men and sniffed. “Deal’s off. I own this place now. If you have a problem with that, speak to my fucking lawyer.” He shouted at them and spun on his heels.

“You heard the man!” Arthur bellowed at Kimber’s men as Tommy left and ran down the stairs to the car. Lenore was laid out flat on the backseat with John behind the wheel. Tommy climbed into the backseat and picked her head up and rested it on his lap.

“Go, John! Now!” He took her hand and ran his thumb over the joint of her thumb. “What did he fucking do to you?” He whispered, not expecting her to hear him. The bruise spreading on her face turned a ruddy purple color.

“He punched me, Tommy, and then he raped me, and then he kicked me when I called for you. He kicked me so hard…” She sobbed and he gasped quietly.

“You mean he kicked you…” His hand moved slowly to her crotch and slipped below the skirt. He saw the continuous stream of blood on her thigh and understood. Kimber had ripped her underwear completely off so she bled freely on the seats in Tommy’s car as they rushed to the hospital. He smoothed down the hair on her forehead and wiped the tears from her face. She reached up and took his hand from her face and held it tightly.

“I hate you, Thomas Shelby.” She whispered seriously and he nodded.

“I know, Nore. I know.” He whispered back. “Drive, John!” He yelled and slapped the front seat aggressively.

“Fuck! I’m driving as fast as I can!” John yelled back and weaved through the oncoming traffic. Lenore whimpered in pain and started to lose consciousness, finding that as she slipped away, the pain became less and less noticeable. They neared the hospital and Tommy picked her up once again, cradling her in his arms. John stopped by the front doors and Tommy ran up the steps as she swung weakly between his arms. He kicked open the doors and shouted at the nurse behind the counter.

“She’s bleeding heavily. You need to take her back now!”

A stretcher was brought and Tommy put her gently down, curled up on her side.

“Tommy.” She whispered, reaching out her gloved hands, stained with blood. “I’m here.” He walked alongside the stretcher as it rolled through the double doors.

“What happened?” The head nurse asked Tommy as they approached a triage room.

“She was raped and beaten. I found her after it happened but she told me he kicked her between her fucking legs and she’s still bleeding.” He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice as he recounted what had happened to her.

“What is her name?” A second nurse jotted it down on a clipboard. “And what is your relationship to her?” She nodded to Lenore who shivered on the stretcher beneath the bright fluorescent hospital lighting.

“She’s my fiance.” Tommy said without hesitation and held his hand on the crown of her head.

The nurse nodded uncomfortably and rushed away to fetch a doctor. The head nurse pulled large curtains closed around them for privacy as they began to inspect her.

“Sir, you’ll need to leave for this. It isn’t proper to have you here while we do this.” She directed him to sit outside the curtain.

“I have to be with her. You’ll let me stay.” He said unkindly.

The nurse frowned and shook her head, “these young people.”

They lifted Lenore’s dress and put her legs in stirrups as if she was giving birth. Tommy stood by her shoulder and took off his head, stuffing it in his pocket. His blue eyes stared intently at her face as they looked between her legs. The doctor stepped in behind the screen and took a seat on the stool between her legs. He looked at Tommy and his eyes widened.

“Mr. Shelby.” He nodded at Tommy and Tommy nodded back. “Give her something for the pain.” The doctor directed a nurse and went back to inspecting Lenore. It was a small rip in the skin around her vagina, magnified by the extreme bruising around the bone and soft layer of fat. A nurse wiped up the blood while the doctor quickly gave her a few stitches. He checked her further to ensure that there wasn't more physical damage and then moved to her face where her bruising was bad beneath her eye. Lenore cringed away from his touch.

“It's ok, I’m just checking that you don’t have any broken bones.” The doctor soothed her and nodded at Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby, may I have a word with you outside?” He asked beneath his breath and Tommy clenched his jaw. He looked over at the nurse.

“Stay with her, please.” He asked and followed the doctor outside the curtain. The doctor talked with a low voice, his eyes flicked back to the curtain as he spoke.

“Mr. Shelby, I understand that this act was done by another man. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” He put his hands on his hips as he waited for the doctor to get to his point.

“If the man penetrated her, there’s a chance that his semen entered her at some point during the assault. I’m afraid that there’s nothing I can do if that is the case. I cleaned her as best as I could but if he finished inside her…”

“I understand.” Tommy swallowed, unnerved by the direction of the conversation.

“Should she become pregnant… I can offer my services to you.” He lowered his voice and handed Tommy a card. Tommy nodded and tucked it into his breast pocket, looking away from the doctor and clearing his throat.

The nurses had cleaned her completely by the time Tommy entered the tent again. He sat in the rickety chair by the bed and petted Lenore’s hair with his thumb. She had fallen asleep with the medication and the nurses straightened her clothes and pulled the blankets up to her chest.

“She can be discharged once she wakes up, Mr. Shelby.” A nurse whispered and left Tommy alone. He rubbed his eyes, trying to disperse the bands of stress behind his eyes.

He thought back to his best friend, James, and how he died. They were kickers together, digging tunnels beneath enemy lines to plant explosives or intercept opposite forces. It was quiet in the tunnel before an explosion shocked the men crammed in the small subterranean hole. Germans spilled out of the exploded hole in the tunnel’s side. Tommy struggled with a man until he could stab him with his trenching tool. There were so many Germans that the boys couldn’t handle them all. One German, armed with a bayonet end, stabbed James repeatedly through his chest. Tommy had grabbed the German by the shoulder and thrown him off James and stabbed him in the neck, watching as blood sprayed from a severed artery. He turned back to James who coughed and choked on his own blood. The screams of both British and German men died down around Tommy as he held James in his dirty arms. James sputtered, unable to say anything, and for the first time since the war started, Tommy cried. James died in his arms and once the last German had been killed, the men buried James in a shallow grave inside the tunnel, taking his dog tag with them as they continued with the tunnel. Tommy had never been the same since that.

__________

End of part 3

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #cabaret #burlesque

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mar3ggiata · 28 days

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professional help, c5. preview

simon riley x original character.

abstract: hi this is Simon. okay, before you read this, I'm gonna say this once and never repeat it again. maybe she was right. don't tell her I told you, and don't you dare even remember anything I said in this stupid chapter.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, awful deaths.

song to listen to when reading this: Heartbeat, Childish Gambino.

He had thought about Jude quite a bit. He knew nothing about her, but she made an impression on him. She was interesting. He wanted to know if she was still angry at him, for what he said. He thought a lot if he had been too rude, and he always settled on a no. He had fun, played a bit, picked a little fight. He was sure she could handle it, she didn't seem like the type to get offended easily.

He made it a mission to find out things about her. He wanted to know if she still lived in that apartment he saw a year prior, the layout of her house. Did she live alone? Maybe she had a boyfriend. How old was she? Knowing so little about this girl drove him mad. She had an intriguing presence, she was captivating. And she always seemed to crash important events. This time she didn't bother knocking on the briefing room door. She came straight in. This time she really looked like death.

'He didn't show up' she said, not waiting for anyone to speak.

Jude interrupted him, and frankly, ha quite hoped she would. 'I'm going with them'. Him and Price spoke at the same time 'You're not'. We're not out here playing spies. She didn't flinch. 'I am!'

'You're gonna tell us if you see him, 'kay?' he instructed, strapping his vest tighter on his chest. 'Sure'. They were passing by a few shops, a gas station, a mechanic shop. 'How long have you been working here?' Gaz was really interested into making conversation hu? Simon was driving silently, his foot lingering on the brakes just in case he spotted something. 'Two years' she replied. Her tone was soft unlike when she had talked to him. Her voice was warm. Not really the time to get to know each other, guys...

notes: hi... I'm very tired. I've been thinking about LIFE a lot lately. I've worked all weekend (waitressing) I'm still trying to deal with having a million exams, my ex is messaging me and I don't like one of my girlfriends anymore. life feels weird these days. I can't really get which emotions I'm feeling. I feel like I've neglected this story, I'm still posting chapters that I wrote months ago but I will have to continue at some point... and I love this story and I love Jude and I want to continue, it's 9.11 pm and I'm ready for bed guys I'm not playing with you. I'm sorry if chapter four was a bit shit. and I don't have a picture for chapter 5, I promise I will make one asap. and try not to explode. have a good night/day, full chapter on Saturday!

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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unholy-plague · 2 months

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Today in therapy I was talking about radqueers and how the DID community at large has turned RAMCOA into a joke. So called educators are posting dangerous information and have not deprogrammed in any meaningful way and clearly haven't even been in therapy. I seen teenagers who they themselves claim not to be in recovery yet attempt to educate then have their victim complex triggered whenever someone corrects their misinformation. My therapist said she can tell I enjoy educating and that I'd make a good educator and the thing is, I tried. But unless you garphically traumadump and make light of your trauma no one cares. Unless you portray yourself as the perfect victim and erase the ugly side of trauma everyone shuns you. It has gotten to a point where I avoid using RAMCOA as a term because I don't want to be associated with the community. Yet at the same time I find myself sympathising with majority of these people, they are mentally ill and severely traumatised teenagers with little to no support system or therapy. I can understand why they fall down these holes such as radqueer because their unhealthy beliefs are fed into, that feels good even if it is a form to self harm to encourage the feeling of needing worse trauma or different disorders. The DID community at large also pushes the competition of who has worse trauma leading people to exaggerate or make up trauma even unintentionally then feeds into the victim complex of survivors by making programming to be some fantastical mechanism when it is conditioning enforced through trauma and every 'program' is an alter(s) holding a trauma response. What also makes me angry is the harassment of radqueers, although I hate them and believe they are harming themselves and others, they are struggling and don't deserve to read graphic abuse because many of them are already survivors. They should be ignored until they are ready to change, we cannot change them because unhealthy coping mechanisms don't work like that.

People don't realise that survivors are not pretty. We have unhealthy and negatige coping mechanisms. We have done bad things to survive and many of us learned to enjoy those things as a means of survival. This isn't an excuse for abusive behaviour but it is important to understand that survivors may have programmer alters, aggressive alters, homicidal alters, nazi alter, etc. Groups who perpetrate this kind of abuse have no morals, they want communities to shun survivors because isolation is what they want. It makes me sad to have been shunned by the community who is meant to accept me, my therapist frequently comments on how hurt I am by that even if I try to pretend it doesn't bother me. All I want for people is to be truely educated and safe.

#the only post i will tag like this #ramcoa #hcdid #tbmc #hc did

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sophieinwonderland · 21 hours

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Today is the day I make one lucky cringizen's dream come true!

I've had this screenshot saved for over a month, knowing this day would come! So congrats little cringizen, your wish is finally granted!

Because I'm going to talk about Aspen's bullying of Custom-Emojis, and recount my two minutes in Aspen's server!

So let's see if I can sum this up. Aspen, an anti-endo TikToker, goes into the Custom-Emojis server. She barely says or does anything there. She gets banned for conduct in other places. Rather than moving on, Aspen plays victim while mocking people's triggers, and says she was banned for saying hi.

You can find the story from Custom-Emojis here:

Aspen escalated and is now allegedly openly admitting to bullying Custom-Emojis.

I do say allegedly because these screenshots are from r/systemscringe and I don't actually know what the context is for that second one. But if it's legit, yikes!

Now, I normally wouldn't get involved in this drama. Mostly because I think both parties behaved pretty poorly. Aspen blew a ban out of proportion instead of just moving on, and chose to mock people's triggers in retaliation for banning her. Obviously terrible. But... I also don't support Custom-Emojis following up by telling people to mass report her TikTok. Both seem like massive overreactions that only furthered the conflict.

There are no mature adults in the room.

So why am I talking about this?

Well you see, I have a funny story to share!

See, a while back, when r/systemscringe added Aspen to their hit list, I wanted to see what the deal with her server was. Was it really as bad as r/systemscringe claimed?

So... I joined it... just to see.

I never actually got to find out!

While casually scanning, before posting anything at all, I read people talking about me just joining. They recognized my name. A few were explaining to the mods who I was and that I was an endogenic systems. I think they mentioned I was a tulpa too.

One of them even mentioned following this blogs for the laughs. Which, if you're here now, hi! 🙋‍♀️

And then, everything went black. Well, gray. Point is, I was kicked from the server! Instantly! In what was probably less than 5 minutes having said absolutely nothing!

All for the crime of being an endogenic system.

And at the time, I didn't comment on it. It seemed... disadvantageous. r/systemscringe was focused on Aspen. Aspen and her server was focused on r/systemscringe. Why interrupt that? Why get in the way of ableist anti-endo factions tearing each other apart?

But with this latest incident, I had to talk about the sheer hypocrisy of Aspen's community at being outraged over Aspen getting banned while doing the same exact things!

It's just too funny to not point out the hypocrisy of Aspen and her followers!

Wait... Aspen's Here?

Okay, so everything above I wrote Thursday or Friday. I didn't post then because other things were going on and I wasn't quite ready to get dragged into the drama. Then surprise, Aspen made a new Tumblr! And one of her first acts was invading inclusive tags.

Expanding on what this anon says, the pluralgang tag isn't merely where endogenic systems hang out. It's a tag that was made explicitly for the inclusive plural community.

As a reminder, the "plural" label originated from non-disordered system, and has always been inclusive to all plurals for nearly 30 years. The plural community is our community. And hate isn't welcome here.

Oh, did I mention she tosses around ableist slurs?

Putting aside the blatant ableism against people with schizophrenia with that slur, let's reiterate that the existence of non-disordered and endogenic plurality is back by actual psychiatrists. This is not schizophrenia. It is not a mental disorder.

Transgender Mental Health by Eric Yarbrough explicitly states that you can be plural without trauma or a disorder.

This is a book that was peer reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

The ICD-11 states you can experience the presence of multiple "distinct personality states" (the same term it uses for alters) without a disorder in their entry on DID.

The existence of non-disordered and endogenic plurality is FACT!

And anyone who says otherwise is either ignorant or lying.

...

Oh, and since I'm sure this post will get around to r/systemscringe and one or both of its servers, be sure to check out my debunk of r/systemscringe's lies while you're here. 😉

Also, as always when an anti-endo invades inclusive and pro-endo tags, my response is going into anti-endo tags. If any anti-endos don't like this, please take it up with Aspen. I'll respect boundaries as long as the boundaries of our community is respected. Otherwise... 🤷‍♀️

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purplelupins · 2 years

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Sweet Dreams

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI

Grabber/Albert x fem!reader

Summery: Getting away from her life as a human punching bag took her somewhere she never could have imagined. But it seemed that even a basement with a masked man watching her could become home.

Warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, pet names, power imbalance, sexual tension, mild swearing, mentions of medical trauma, nsfw

Note: PLEASE READ

This is a nsfw DARK story so if you are a minor DO NOT ENGAGE. If you are offended or triggered by the mentioned material, DO NOT ENGAGE. Simple as that. Please note that I do not condone what the Grabber has done in cannon, and I am only using him as a character in my story. If you message me with negativity or harassment, I will not respond. This is Tumblr, not Twitter. Please block the Grabber x reader tag if you are disgusted.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The first few days went the same.

He would bring her breakfast, she would talk and ask non-invasive questions, and then he would leave for the day. She could tell that she was starting to grow on him judging by how he stayed longer in the evenings and how his shoulders weren’t so ridged. She was glad he was feeling more at ease.

By the fifth day, he gave her a book.

By the eighth day, he gave her a tennis ball, which she used as her exercise.

By the ninth day, she had pestered him enough to know he grew up during the Second World War, and preferred music from the 50’s and 60’s over the newer age. He wasn’t married, and had a liking for listening to the news. He enjoyed driving and walks in the woods, and he also didn’t sleep a great deal.

On one Monday, she had had a fairly uneventful day. It was all very much the same as it always was, but there had been something nagging in her mind. That evening when he brought her dinner, she had a burning question that she had to know the answer to. A question she honestly only half wanted answered.

The man placed the tray of dinner on her lap and sat beside her like he did almost every night.

“Did you have a good day?” She asked him a little absentmindedly as she built up the courage to ask him that question.

“It was hot…think I got a sunburn on my arm.” He glanced down at his veiny arm that was indeed pinker than usual. She found herself staring a moment too long at the limb before going back to the food on her fork. He noticed.

“You should put some ointment on it.” she murmured then sucked in a breath, “Can I ask you something, Mister? It’s not about you this time.” She joked lightly having asked him millions of questions.

“Go ahead.” He said patiently in a sing-songs tone. At this point they both knew that if he didn’t want to answer the question, he wouldn’t.

So she took a deep breath.

“Has…has anyone been looking for me? Is there a search?” She asked. Of course it sounded pathetic, but she wanted to know.

The man seemed to think about it for a moment. He contemplated telling her that no one was looking for her. That she was on her own. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him, and having her trust was of upmost importance if she was going to be his completely.

“For the first four days. It was called off six days ago.” His blunt honesty was a surprise to her. She had figured he might have sugar coated it or just said he didn’t know. Regardless, she was glad they had stopped looking, but she worried that her father would still try and find her on his own. And that meant no police and no police meant unlawful measures to find her.

“Can I…can I stay a little longer?” She whispered, afraid of his answer.

What if he was tired of having to entertain and feed me?

She already started to form a way to brush off her own question, ready to tell him that she would be fine on her own if he wanted her gone, but his answer stopped her in her tracks.

“Of course you can, bunny.” He cooed, rubbing her back. She looked over at him, and couldn’t help but lean into his touch; something that did not escape him. “All done?” He nodded to her empty plate.

Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief, and felt the sting of grateful tears in her eyes.

“Yes. Thank you.” She placed her fork down.

The older man patted her back a d took her tray as he stood. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said.

The more he cared for her, the more she noticed how much she enjoyed him treating her so childishly; it had been something she missed out on. If he offered to wash her she probably wouldn’t object. She followed his direction and just as she always did, she kept close to his side. Only this time, after wanting to for over a week, she took his free hand as they walked up the stairs.

She was afraid of him telling her to not touch him or yell at her, but he had been fine with touching her; he stroked her hair, rubbed her back and would squeeze her hand sometimes. So that night, she metaphorically bit the bullet and held his large hand.

The man paused on the step he took, and looked down at her little hand in his. She grew nervous as his silence stretched on, and began to pull her hand away. But then he reached out and took her hand in his, holding it tighter than she had held his. She smiled shyly and they continued their routine as usual, only with their fingers locked.

She washed and dried herself off and was guided around again by the man to return downstairs. He played with her hair as she laid on he mattress and spoke about the world.

However, when it came to resting, she barely slept at all. She had indeed had a pleasant day, and had nothing happen that would trigger her, but it seemed that good day or not, her dreams turned into nightmares.

She was plagued by images of her father whipping her, and his fist in her ribs. His hand in her hair as he dragged her to the hospital-

She shook all night with her knees against her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks. By the time she heard birds chirping, her eyes were dry and her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw.

Another few hours passed, and she heard the door unlock. A sense of relief washed over her as the door opened, and she tried to pull herself together, but he noticed her state immediately. She was scared. Every nerve in his body was suddenly alight. He snapped his finger for Sampson to stand at the top of the stairs and shut the door behind himself incase she tried to get away.

“What happened?” He asked as he walked to her, a little more urgently.

“I just…couldn’t sleep.” She said, avoiding his eyes from under his smiling mask. He knelt down and placed the food on her thighs.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” He asked gently, though if she had looked at his hands, she could have seen his white knuckles from how excited he was; he hoped she had had a nightmare about him. She should. And if she was afraid of him, then he could start playing with her.

But that was far from what she had dreamed of.

“I kept remembering my dad…what he used to do to me.” She whispered, poking at the egg.

“What did he do?” He asked a little darker than usual. His morbid curiosity began to take over.

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed the tray beside herself, and turned around on the bed so her back was to him. Then, she lifted her shirt up to show him her back.

He was silent at first, then she felt a gentle finger trace the scars and bruises that had yet to fade. There was one particular cut that had yet to heal, and was still quite painful; he brushed the surrounding tissue far tenderly than she had thought. After a moment she heard him clear his thoat, and when she turned around, she swore she saw the remains of tears in his eyes.

“I’ll never let him find you.” He whispered intensely. She wondered if he had experience with abuse as well; seeing her injuries might have brought back memories.

“I know you want to help but you can’t promise that…I can’t stay with you forever-“

“Why?” He asked, his voice lowering.

“You have a life, Mister. And I’m very capable of looking after myself.” She said. Having her was a burden- if not now, then at some point in the future she knew he would realize that.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, his fists tightening in his lap as he readied himself to grab her.

But she shook her head.

“No. No I don’t…” she whispered.

His hands relaxed, and he looked away for a moment.

“Good.”

With that, he joined her on the mattress, and he asked her about her hobbies while he played with her hair. Occasionally he would take the fork from her and raise a piece of egg to her lips for her to eat. She found it endearing. Odd, but endearing.

That day was uneventful again. But as the sky darkened, she found herself slipping back into those intrusive thoughts that had begun to plague her.

It started with her remembering the man who called himself her father, but slowly morphed into her imagining what she would do to him if she could. As her thoughts progressed, she became unsettled that she would even think those things.

When he brought her dinner, she found herself eating a little slower just so he would stay longer because if he was there, her thoughts were gone, but eventually she finished.

To her surprise as they went upstairs for her shower, he grasped her hand in his and pulled her along behind him without a second thought. That was the first change she noticed that evening. The second was when she was expecting him to take her to the washroom, and instead he pulled her deeper into the kitchen to a cabinet, and placed the hand of hers that he had been holding on his arm as he used both hands to retrieve something. She held him tightly and waited.

When he turned back and took her hand again, he was holding a chocolate.

“Open.” He said.

She opened her mouth obediently and smiled when she tasted the sweetness on her tongue.

“Come on.” he cooed and pulled her along, “Shower time.”

That night, as he took her to sleep, she felt the effects of not sleeping properly the night previous. Her eyes were heavy.

“Sweet dreams, bunny.” He murmured, brushing her hair away from her face gently.

But she did not have sweet dreams.

She did sleep, but it was a morbid depiction of her father again, but he was three times his size and seemed to find her no matter where she ran. Fear pumped through her, and her heart felt as if it would burst completely.

She woke up in a sweat, and looked around frantically out of fear that it was real. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, however, what she found was certainly not her father.

In the doorway just beyond the light, she saw that familiar mask in the soft glow that came through the small window by the ceiling. She knew she should have been frightened, but it was the last thing she felt. She surprised herself by the feeling of comfort that came with seeing him there.

She was surprised more by the fact that he only wore the bottom half of the blank mask. Her curiosity was peaked when she noticed it.

He was watching her.

Testing her next move.

But she didn’t know that. For all she knew he was just checking on her.

“Mister?” She called out to him meekly.

He tilted his head to the side.

She swallowed her pride and stared out at him hopefully. “Would you…would you sit with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

He seemed to think for a second before walking into the room fully and shutting the door.

Y/n felt her cheeks burn when she realized his button up was open and she could see his chest fairly well. She looked away quickly, trying to not stare at his chest. He was in much better shape than she thought.

He sat down by her feet, but she scooted over to the other side so he had space to sit right next to her. His eyes crinkled at the side, and she wished she could see his smile.

“Looked pretty scary.” He said gently as he sat up against the wall while she placed her head on his thigh. His hand came down to her hair, and he began to play with it absentmindedly.

“My dad again…” she whispered, but recalled a better memory to tell him about. “Did I ever tell you about the time I thought I was an explorer and got lost in the mountains when I was twelve?” She asked.

He chuckled at that. “I don’t believe you did.”

“They brought out sniffer dogs and everything…when my parents found me the hugged me so tight…a year later my sister was born. Everything changed after that.” Her smiled faded away. “I really like music…do you like music?” She knew he liked music; he had told her as such. But they both knew she tended to ask repeat questions when trying to change a subject.

“Come on who doesn’t like music?” He replied patiently, looking down at her.

She smiled. “I dunno…a crazy person.”

They stayed quiet, and she clutched at the fabric of his pants by her chin like a safety line. He breathed a little heavier at the contact, and very nearly lost the control he had so carefully created. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t like the others. If he did this right, he might never have to hunt again. Never have to chase that feeling of control he craved. And so because of that, he remained by her side even after she fell asleep.

Every night became the same after that. He would let her shower, place a chocolate in her mouth, then take her to sleep and stay with her until she drifted off. At first, he would slip his belt out and hold it in his hand just in case. There was one night where she bolted up and he nearly struck her, but she had clung to him and cried into his shoulder. He hadn’t known what to do at first, especially with his adrenaline pumping, but he had relaxed eventually, and comforted her before he slipped from her grasp to disappear upstairs to figure out his thoughts.

Strange, strange girl.

He had anticipated that she might try and escape by then, but she had made no move whatsoever to do so.

By the fifth night of him staying with her, he no longer took his belt out, but he paid close attention to her and kept Sampson at the top of the stairs. Always waiting for her to run off.

But it never came.

On the seventh night, after a particularly long day, coupled with the excessive August heat, he was very tired. He had come home and made a simple dinner for the both of them, and brought hers down after finishing his. She had been playing with her tennis ball against the wall at it almost hit him, to which she apologized profusely.

He hadn’t had the strength to be terribly alarmed or angry, so he had just shaken his head and told her to be careful. He listened to her prattle on about the book he had brought her, and while he listened, he felt his eyes grow heavy. He took her upstairs, cleaned her up, and brought her back downstairs, but when she bid him goodnight, and he watched her, he did something he hadn’t done before. Once she was asleep, he laid himself down beside her and let her curl up into his arms; he told himself that he would just lay there for five minutes, then leave. But within two minutes, he too fell asleep against his will.

When he had awoken, he looked around frantically to ensure that nothing had happened, and he chided himself for slipping. When he wrenched himself from her side, he found himself not wanting to, but he chalked it up to her being the longest guest he had had; he spent the entire day stuck in his head, thinking. Trying to understand why he was being so clumsy.

It happened again a week later.

That time however, he had not waken up before her to leave her unaware. Y/n awoke quietly in the wee hours of the morning after having a dreamless sleep. What she had found, however, was that her cheek was not on a pillow at all. Under her head was a chest- a bare one. She had lifted her head carefully and looked up only to see the man who had welcomed her into his home with open arms.

His half-mask was slightly askew, and she couldn’t help but stare at how handsome he was, especially when he slept. Those deep lines in his forehead that she loved were relaxed and his breathing was hypnotic. It was then that she realised that she had been resting on his bare chest, and her cheeks burned so much she was afraid it would wake him.

She didn’t sleep anymore that morning, but pretended when he woke up, and she noticed how he stiffened. She listened to him sigh, and pull himself from her, then disappear until breakfast. She found herself missing his presence, but her embarrassment was too much to even think of that.

Y/n hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

A month passed.

He brought her a portable cassette player and a small stack of tapes. The collection slowly grew as he would bring her a new one every so often and he would watch her listen to it. She would tell him her favourites and what they reminded her of; a person, a place, a feeling. Anything.

And he soaked it up.

One Saturday morning, he came down to find her dancing to a new cassette tape. Her eyes were closed and her arms and hips swung to the tune flooding her ears. He liked watching her like that- she was so unaware and innocent.

No idea that the man feeding her could snap her in two if he wanted to.

But she wouldn’t know that, she was a good girl.

He tilted his head to the side as he stared her; she alternated between his shirt and her pyjamas depending on what needed a cleaning. That day it was his shirt day which meant no shorts and no shorts meant he could see her cute peach coloured panties from under the top when she raised her arms up.

He loved shirt days.

Especially when it was the weekend. A shirt day on the weekend meant he could spend hours with his pretty girl while she wore his clothes and almost nothing else. She would forget to close her legs or to be careful when bending over and he could see the fabric cling to her.

Y/n finally opened her eyes halfway through the song and gasped, jumping out of her skin when she saw him. She slipped her headphones off her head and laughed to herself. “Hi! Sorry, you scared me a little there.”

He tilted his head to the side and chuckled in that airy way he did, “Who? Me? No.” He teased her, walking with the tray.

She hit his arm lightly, trying to ignore the muscles exposed; he wore a t-shirt that day. She also noticed that he only had the bottom half of his mask; a rare occurrence during the day.

“Yes you.” She smiled and sat with him.

“What were you listening to, bunny?” He asked, nodding to the cassette.

She swallowed the egg and looked over atthe player.

“Oh that one you got me last week- Hard Day’s Night from the Beatles. I was listening to Can’t Buy Me Love! It’s such a fun song.”She thought aloud.

He gazed at her for a moment, drinking her in.

“By the way you were dancing I would have to agree.” He said, and by his voice she could tell his was smiling. “When the first round of tapes came out I waited in line for hours to get one…wore it out within a year after listening to it too often.”

“Which one did you like the most?”she asked, sipping at the coffee.

“You Can’t Do That.” He nodded as he remembered, “It reminded me of my girlfriend at the time.”

Her brows shot up at the confession. “You had a girlfriend?” Her voice must have been more shocked than she meant it to be because he looked over at her, his brows and eyes unamused and sharp. She had struck a nerve. The young woman almost choked when she tried to explain, “Not that I don’t think you could have a girlfriend or anything I mean you have beautiful eyes and you’re handsome from what I can tell but I just was surprised is all, I don’t know much about you and you surprised me by telling me something like that…” the words rumbled out of her embarrassingly.

“What?” He asked, he asked after a moment, and she could tell he was holding in a laugh.

“Oh come on…you know …you’re a good looking man. You’re really sweet too…” she said softly, poking at the eggs

“Do you think so?” He asked, leaning a little closer.

Y/n looked back up at him beside her, and felt her breath catch with him being so close.

“I do…” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “What happened to her?” Anything to change the subject.

“Hm? Oh she died…not long after we broke up. She…cheated on me.” He said simply.

Y/n, however, nearly spat out her coffee. “Was she stupid?” She blurted out, “It’s just…I don’t know I’ve been hit on by married men my whole life and I’ve never understood how someone can cheat. If you’re so miserable then just get a divorce.” She placed her fork down without finishing and sighed. “I’m sorry…I hope it didn’t hurt you too much.”

He stared at her for a moment and unconsciously tightened his hands into fists at the memory of the woman’s windpipe snapping under his hands. “It was alright. I suppose it’s that whole saying of what goes around comes around.” He said with a lightless and a shrug.

She nodded along.

“True…it can be hard to feel anything for people who have hurt you…” she said. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and while she didn’t say and he didn’t ask, he knew she was remembering her dad. He had seen that look before, but in a mirror when he recalled his own past.

“Are you finished?” He asked and nodded at her half done eggs.

“Yeah…” she nodded, “They were great as always, but I think I just lost my appetite…thinking about him.”

He smirked under his mask at his own accuracy with her thoughts. He was starting to know what she was thinking.

“That’s okay,” he chirped, “You’ll forget about him sooner than you think. I’m sure of it.” His voice seemed to deepen slightly at the end, and y/n looked up at him as he stood.

“Mister?” She asked when he took a few steps to return upstairs.

“Yep?” He called, turning back.

She didn’t say anything, but she did run up to him and wrap her arms around his torso. He froze for a moment and stared down at her before wrapping his free arm around her. It was unexpected, but he had to admit it felt fucking euphoric.

She took a deep breath of his smell and let it cloud her mind. Her pulse began to thud in her ears, and she could feel a dampness between her thighs. When she realised her body’s reaction, she let go quickly.

“Sorry I just-“

“Shh…you can hug me anytime…” he cooed to her as her cheeks burned. “I might not look it but I’m a big softy!” The smile of his mask deceived her of his true motives. To her, he was just a nice guy with some eccentricities who was helping her. And best of all, she had no reason to not believe him.

“Okay…thanks again for everything.” She fidgeted with a small hole in the shirt.

She felt his hand atop her head, ruffling her hair a little, then he disappeared again just as he always did. And to her surprise, she craved him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@theroadreader @dogmatic255 @funandfancyfree @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @lxdyred @ethanhawkestan @honeycovered-bandaids @eth1calcannibal @ratpackash @doc-blu

#the grabber x reader #the grabber #ethan hawke #the black phone 2022 #the black phone #slasher x reader #sweet dreams

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maryannecrimsworth · 1 year

Text

Her vulnerability

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Guide for tormented hearts

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Selective mute reader

Warnings: past trauma mention; crying(again); Wednesday is scared.

Summary: Wednesday ran away from you. To be honest, you weren't really surprised — but what did surprised you is that she came back. She came back and she was afraid — and she needed your help.

Some reader's characteristics: R has anxiety disorder, selective mutism, and is a really unique type of outcast. Reader's background it's derived from my Wednesday fic, The Hunt.

More details of Hank background and his partnership with Wednesday here.

There was a reason behind you didn't have friends: you sucked at it.

Whether it was talking too much or talking too little, you couldn't handle another person's feelings and needs when your own were so overwhelming. You were always rambling on about a topic — that usually was interesting for you alone — or standing quietly as the other person tried to hold a proper conversation and form bonds.

You were too open, or too closed — too much, or not enough.

You are tired of even trying to do it all again — the end is always the same, anyway. So you rather withdraw, tuck yourself into your journal until the night is over and face another day at school — where every sound is too loud, every light is too bright, every question is too hard. Everything is too much, and your body trembles when the memories of Alp return to your mind.

So you hid.

You isolated yourself from anything that could trigger you — you did everything you could to hold back the lump in your throat that came up every time you tried to talk to someone.

You were unstable. Messy. And no one can really stand this — you.

They get worn out, as your vatter did, as your mother, as Rachel — as Hank. They step back so they won’t be drained by you — they leave.

And it didn’t matter what you saw on Wednesday’s head, you know she is no different.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when she ran away from you after you broke down in front of her again.

Wednesday despites weakness, and that’s what you are: weak. Her latest vision might have shown it to her, this might be the reason why she ran away.

But you received a note. When you were packing your notebooks and getting ready to leave the class, you found the black paper folded among the pages of your journal.

Follow me. it said, and you had to lift your head instantly and look for Wednesday’s dark figure moving around the classroom. You hadn't seen her all day, you couldn't force yourself to do it, so it was unexpected to you to suddenly have to track her down in the crowd of Nevermore students.

You fought your way through the teenagers and reached her in a few minutes: you started to walk by her side, but she didn’t utter a word. Not even a single glance.

She only stormed out of the school and ran into the forest.

Oh.

She was going to murder you.

You were sure of it until she turned around and stood in front of you. Her gaze was unsteady, quick, and watery. You had only seen her like that twice before — at the lake, right after her vision; and last night, when she ran away. This time, however, she stood still.

“You’re the child of a witch.” Her voice echoed through the woods. “A German witch.”

“I know.” You lowered your head. “She left when I was a baby to work for the L/N.”

Wednesday frowned immediately: her eyebrows knitted together more closely, her expression sharper than usual. “No.” She retorted, stepping towards you. “That’s not what I saw.”

“But that’s the truth, Wednesday.” Your voice grew stiffer. “I see it everytime I sleep and I’m left alone with the Alp.”

“You’re wrong.” You choked. Was she trying to explain your own past to you? “I am still trying to unravel the truth, but I know that’s not it.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

Wednesday froze for a second. “I don’t know why you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.” You sighed. You really weren’t. “I’m worried. Worried about you. You panicked the last time you had a vision and now you’re, somehow, seeing my mother. That’s….dangerous.”

“A witch does not scare me.”

“But a grieving woman should.” You fought back. What was going on in you to argue so hard? “She’s lost her mind since my father died.”

“I am not afraid.”

“So why did you—” Your tone grew suddenly, but you stopped yourself from yelling. You breathed in, closed your eyes and scratched your head for a few seconds before continuing: “Why did you run away?”

You were trembling already: trying too hard to not snap to see Wednesday’s features softing.

You did not see the way her eyes went watery when they watched your hushed, distressed movements; nor the way her fists closed tightly as her answer got stuck on her throat; nor the way her anger grew as she noticed how worried you really were — just because of her.

You were trembling because of her.

“I needed time to think.” She finally replied. “I won’t apologize for it.”

“You don’t have to.” You opened your eyes, but didn’t look at her. “I get it, I do. But…” Your voice cracked ever so slightly. “Are you sure you want to go on with this?”

‘This’, Wednesday thought, what is ‘this’? Your friendship? The investigation after the stalker? The unraveling of your past? Either way, her answer was the same:

“Yes.”

“Alright.” You breathed out. “Alright, what did you see yesterday? Only my mother?”

Wednesday nodded, the movements of her head preventing you from noticing her throat moving in a dry swallow. “She was standing in the dark. Singing.” The song sounded again inside her mind, forcing her to close her eyes and breathe heavily.

‘Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf!’

‘Der Vater hüt' die Schaf’

“It's a lullaby.” You explained, even though Wednesday stood in complete silence. There was only one song your mother would sing — and there was only a melody who could terrify someone like it did to Wednesday.

It didn’t matter how strong, brave, and scary the Addams girl was — your mother could destroy her with a few verses. She had done it to you so many times; maybe the witch was looking for a new guinea pig; maybe the L/N ordered her to watch Wednesday; maybe even Aretha did.

Anyone could be after Wednesday at this point — after all, she was your friend.

And your parents always hated your friends.

“It’s a sort of trigger to madness. It is…disturbing, literally.” You went on, your low voice making the song slowly drift away from Wednesday’s mind. “My vatter used to sing me to sleep but..they've turned it into something bad.”

“Why would they do it?”

“To transform me.” You whispered. “To keep me in the palm of their hand, to keep anyone too fragile to stand up for themselves.” Your tone grew heavier, as if the words now coming out of your mouth were burdens, huge stones you carried for too long. “They sing it everytime.”

“To every camper?”

“No. No, only to the ones they wish to break.”

“And your mother, the Hexe, helps the L/Ns with it?”

“They work together.” You shook your head. “I told you, it’s too dangerous, they’re too powerful, they’re everywhere.”

“And what about Hank?”

You frowned.

“What about him?”

“Have they ever sung to him?”

“I…I.” Your voice disappeared. “I don’t know.”

“I brought breakfast!” Hank held up the tray as if raising a trophy. "Toast and orange juice, a real luxury." The tamer placed the tray on the inmate's bed and pulled the iron chair to his side.

He sat near Tyler and then grabbed a lidded bowl from his backpack. With his back turned to the camera on the ceiling, his shoulders hiding the tray from the recording, Hank opened the bowl and carefully placed a few bacon slices on the plate.

“What ar—”

“Shush.” Hank grabbed the toast from the tray and bit it. “Come on, go ahead.”

“I thought you were vegetarian.” Tyler whispered, analyzing the food on the plate with confusion.

“I am,” Tyler whispered back. “but the guards always steal your bacon.”

Galpin leaned on the wall behind him, his hands falling towards the tray on his bed.

It smelled delicious — better than anything he has had in the prison.

“Here.” Hank held a cup of juice out to him. “How are you doing today?”

Tyler grabbed the cup, making his chains rattle, and sipped the yellow drink. “Good.” He said before biting a slice of bacon, his head turned to the tray. “My dad came to see me.” Tyler paused to swallow. “We talked. He asked me about my routine. It was nice. He seemed…relieved.”

“I’m glad to hear about it, Ty.” Hank smiled and picked a banana from the tray, peeling and slicing it with his hands. “I remember you said you missed spending time with him.”

“Yeah, it was probably the first time we sat and talked since…” Tyler’s voice disappeared as he watched Hank’s movement. “I’m sorry, what are you doing?”

Hank was laying the banana slices on the toast, totally concentrated and determined.

Like it was a usual, normal breakfast. He bit his odd combination before looking up to Tyler again.

“What?”

“I get that you like fruits but…on the toast?” Tyler’s face was frowned in disgust. “Ew.”

“Well, I need some carbs too.”

“You have never considered pancakes?”

“I’ve never had them.”

Tyler’s face went black.

“You’re joking.”

“Not really.” Hank kept eating while Tyler remained motionless. He was remembering the little he knew about Hank — raised in the woods, a chemist and planter, really poor until his family became famous. It was the first time he was staying in America, which meant he had never had a proper breakfast.

“That’s sad.” Tyler whined. “You should try the blueberry ones. It's on the Weathrevane’s menu.”

“I will.” Hank replied quietly and continued eating.

Tyler finally focused on his own breakfast again and they both remained in silence as the food disappeared from the plate and bowl. They finished eating, and the chains on Tyler's ankles, hanging over the edge of the bed, were striking Hank's legs slightly, but neither of them moved away.

“He said you convinced him to come.” Tyler was the one who broke the silence. “He said…He said he was happy to know that you really brought his son back.”

“I barely did a thing, Tyler.”

“We know that’s not true.” Galpin fought back immediately. “And the court does too...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told I’m going to be transferred.” Tyler could see Hank gritting his teeth, but he went on. “To some sort of behavioral control center.”

“It’s a camp.” Hank finally spoke, his tone completely stiff. “where they teach you how to tame your impulses.”

“ ‘Tame’? That’s what you do, right? You’re an tamer?”

“Who told you about this?” Hank’s features changed. It was odd to see him like that — it was the first time Tyler saw him like that. Serious, firm, rough. Unless he always behaved like this with…the other one. “Tyler.”

“I’m receiving anonymous letters.” He explained. “They have told me about this and about Xavier’s father.”

Hank closed his fists. Hank closed his fists, shook his head and said nothing. “I see.”

“The Hyde was trying to keep me in the dark about it.” Tyler moved suddenly, hugging his knees and letting the words leave his mouth as a whisper. Hank did not flinch: he kept staring at Galpin. “But I found it. I found it and I also replied Xavier, as you asked.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.” Tyler’s gaze was everywhere: on the ceiling, on the tray, on his chain, on the floor; everywhere but on the chair so close to him. “He deserves to know.”

“Know what, exactly?” Hank folded his fingers over his lap, his expression slowly softening, but Tyler didn't look at him to notice.

“Know that I was sorry, and that I didn’t mean to do these things, to leave him. That I wasn’t fully in control.” He could hear Hank grunting in agreement. “And that he should stay away.”

“Tyler!” Hank finally moved. “I told you not to do that, you can’t push everyone away.” He held Tyler’s chains, making him look at him. “You can’t.”

“But I must.” Tyler retorted. His voice was weak, trembling. “Otherwise they get hurt, killed. I’m too dangerous.”

“You are not.” Hank pulled the chains closer. “The Hyde is, not you.”

“Bu we are the s—”

“No.” Hank’s touch made Tyler stop — only when the tamer’s grip reached his skin, Galpin noticed the tears falling down his cheeks. Hank wiped his tears as he went on. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you two are not the same.”

“To tame me.” Tyler’s words made Hank grit his teeth again. “To be my master.”

“No.” Hank leaned back ever so slightly. “No, I hate these terms. I’m here to help you, that’s it.”

“Like a psychologist?”

“Like someone you can rely on.” Hank smirked when he noticed Tyler was no longer crying. “Do you think you can bear my pesky presence?”

Tyler chuckled.

“Sure.”

Books were your barriers.

Figuratively or literally, the stories transcripted on paper served as a barrier to you and the outside world. While it was clear to her from the beginning that you hid yourself in the writings and your journals, Wednesday hadn't noticed until now how you literally hide yourself as well.

Most of your free time was spent in the library — the same seat as always, the back table, your chair facing the doorway in the distance — and the piles of books surrounded you like medieval walls.

You couldn't even see her coming, your posture was too bent for your vision to reach her, the books were stacked too high to show any figure surrounding you. The sound of the chair being moved was what woken you: as always, you leapt up in your chair, and raised your head to smile at Wednesday.

Usually, you didn't say much. You didn't ask how her day was or which teacher she disliked the most — your most frequent form of communication was a pile of books. Every time, there was a part of your wall reserved just for her — you would dismantle a part of your barrier and hand its pieces over to her alone.

You were overjoyed when she said she had already read some book you had selected. But she had never seen the expression that took on your face this time.

"No." She pushed the books away as soon as she saw the name 'Brontë' on it. "I hate period novels."

You turned red, confused, and bit your lips for a long time before expressing a response.

"Mary Shelley is a period writer.”

"Mary Shelley does not write about platitudes."

Your hands fell on the table in frustration.

"It's not Charlotte, it's Emily." You tried again. "It's not the kind of story you imagine, give it a chance."

"No." She pushed the book even further toward you. You pushed it back.

"You'll like it, I bet."

She looked at you longingly. It was strange to see the way confidence shone in your eyes, the way you acted so naturally even though you’ve seen her so fragile. Panic had already taken over her twice in front of you — and you acted like it was nothing.

"And what do I get in return?" She asked quickly, trying to change the direction of her thoughts.

"You mean the winner?"

"Precisely."

You laughed and shook your head, the mischievous smile you always showed for Addams' overconfidence.

"An original manuscript. A rare, unpublished edition." You had several hidden at home - and they were worth using as a bargaining chip. After all, you knew that Wednesday Addams would love Wuthering Heights. "What do you think?"

"I think you should prepare for defeat."

You chuckled before shaking your head and lowering your gaze to the book open in front of you. You started to read again, and the smallest frown came back to your features: the same expression of when you're thinking — reading, analyzing, not feeling. Perhaps it was the only time you did look calm. Stable. And it disturbed Wednesday.

Where was your deep gaze? Where was your energy? Were you not scratching your own skin? Where were your gestures and every single motion that made her read you so easily?

Where was the despair that subdued her so quickly in her vision — and that reaches you every time you sleep?

Where was your fear?

Were you seeing the Hexe too?

"Are your dreams always like that?" The thought escaped through her lips. You lifted your head in a leap.

"Like that?"

"Like my visions." She muttered. "Overwhelming. Painfully thick and…confusing." Her eyes were not on you anymore. "As if....if I'm drowning because of her singing."

"Yes." Your voice sounded like a hard breath. "Every time I dream, it comes along with the Alp's nightmares."

"Every night?" Wednesday's voice weakened. "Every single night?"

"Yes." Your tone was firmer. It had to be so hers didn't. "So I stay up."

"That's why you're hypersensitive."

You nodded, your eyes drafting away from the table, unsure of where to go — just like Wednesday's. "I either lose my breath because someone is talking too loud or I wake up painting because of her lullaby." You laughed sadly. "I'm not sure what is worse."

"It felt as if I was suffocating."

"It did." You were too vehement in your reply, too sure about it. Your response couldn't help but make her look at you. "It does."

How could you handle it — how could you face that witch every single night?

How could you hear that voice without going crazy? Without running away and crying, painting, sobbing, just like Wednesday did?

How could you stay so still after listening to it? After seeing all this?

Wednesday could barely think about her vision without losing her breath — so how could you think enough about it all to express it on paper?

And you were doing it again — right now, your fingers flipped through the pages of your journal until you found a blank one. You started writing.

How could you do it without breaking down? How could you express yourself so effortlessly? How could you handle feeling all of this?

“Teach me.” She said suddenly. “Teach me how to handle this.”

‘This’, you thought, even though you already knew what she was referring to — ‘this’, the fear, the panic, the fright and feelings your mother’s singing always brings.

The vulnerability compelled by the lullaby — her vulnerability.

You shook your head and gave one of your journals to Wednesday.

She started writing too.

@cursedchar (I'm missing your writing, mi inspiración) @i984 (Honestly, I don't think I can't say no to you so I'm posting this as proper explanation of the previous chapters) @4pparecium @tnnadia @colezb @elduster @efectoangel @sweetaimu @tundra1029 @rainbowsixreader @awolfcsworld @rainbow-love4ever @alexkolax @anonymousewrites (@wednesdaynet & @emziess thank you both for the gif!)

#wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #original character #tyler galpin #wednesday fanfic #german language

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velvetxkissesx · 1 year

Text

between them

todoroki shouto x fem!reader, brief mention of one sided midoriya izuku x the reader.

is this based entirely on in between by gracie abrams? yes, yes it is. i love the song. i am obsessed. been obsessed with it for years and it’s getting the recognition it deserves on tik tok. also i am a SUCKER for friends to lover tropes. they will happen a lot, and i am not sorry for it. also i promise i will write for more characters other than todoroki, i have some drafts that i want to continue on.

warnings: brief mentions of trauma, but other than that unless you hate fluff there are really no triggering things. there’s some light angst I suppose, but really not much. the reader also somewhat hurts midoriya’s feelings but not directly. also I wrote this in a day and did not proof read it so be nice, okay thanks bye

——-

midoriya pov

——-

Midoriya groaned and slumped down in the couch next to Bakugo who was in the process of beating Kaminari in Smash Bros. Both boys looked at him for a second before they went back to playing. Midoriya looked between his friends and groaned louder, hoping one of them would get the hint. Again, ignored. Midoriya took a deep breath and let out another groan that was practically a screech.

“Oh my fuck- WHAT?!” Bakugo yelled slamming his controller down, Kaminari took the opportunity of distraction to beat Bakugo’s character. Bakugo face turned red, and he looked at Midoriya with a twitching eye, “Deku you better hope for your own life that this isn’t something fucking stupid,”

“I am giving up, I can’t come between them,” Midoriya pouted, and Bakugo felt the urge to punch his childhood friend. Kaminari was more interested now, putting his controller down on the table to look at Midoriya.

“Between who?” Kaminari propped his chin up on his hand, resting his elbow against the armrest.

“Icy Hot and the Gen Ed chick,” Bakugo grumbled having heard Midoriya talk about nothing but her for months now. Even while they were sparring, Midoriya was gushing about whatever it was she did that was so cute to him. Bakugo was sick of it, and was ready to punch Deku until he either acted on his feelings or shut up about them, “It’s about time I’m so fucking tired of this shit,”

“Okay, so, why are you giving up?” Kaminari ignored Bakugo and focused on Midoriya. Who was happy someone was indulging him.

“Both her and Todoroki have their own thing, at first I thought it was just friends but it’s so obvious it’s something more,” Midoriya explained to Kaminari, “I mean, I just wish Todoroki would stop pretending like he doesn’t feel what he does for her,”

“Okay, I feel like I’m missing details, explain more?”

Midoriya referred to two weeks prior when he and Todoroki were studying for English together.

~~~~

Todoroki was never one to be on his phone a lot, and usually never answered anybody. So when his ringtone went off, Midoriya wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Todoroki glanced at the screen and instead saw your name on the screen. Todoroki barely let it get to the third ring before he was answering the phone, starting the conversation with your first name.

“Are you okay?” Todoroki asked, and Midoriya watched as his best friend talked to you. Midoriya could hear the muffled sound of your voice, as you explained your reasoning for calling Todoroki. Todoroki held up a finger to Midoriya, and mouthed a quick ‘I’m sorry’ before he stood up and walked across the room to his balcony to give himself some privacy. Midoriya even saw Todoroki smile, like a genuine smile, just at whatever it was you were saying.

When Todoroki came back in the room, Midoriya made a joke about him answering the phone so fast. Midoriya had never seen Todoroki blush before, but he did in that moment. He wouldn’t make eye contact as he brushed off saying that it was a perfectly normal response time.

~~~

“Oh damn someone call the chapel, Icy Hot showed human emotion, clearly he’s getting married to her,” Bakugo quipped, and Midoriya shot him a dirty look, “What?! Nerd, you sound fucking ridiculous,”

“Kacchan I just wish that you could see them,” Midoriya sighed, and looked at Kaminari, “I mean both of their faces just lighten up at the sight of each other,”

“I have seen them, Icy Hot is more comfortable with her, but people say the same damn shit about me and Kirishima and we aren’t in love,”

Kaminari raised an eyebrow, but decided to not say anything when Bakugo’s hands sparked a little.

“Maybe they just get each other, y’know they had similar upbringings? I overheard them talking the other night when she was visiting the dorm, I came down to get something to eat and they were sitting on the couch,” Kaminari refocused on Midoriya, and told him the story of what he had noticed about them.

~~~

You were sitting on one side of the couch, your back towards the kitchen and Kaminari who was definitely not eavesdropping. Then he felt incredibly guilty for eavesdropping when he realized what the conversation was about.

“My Dad wasn’t exactly the best either, but at least he ran away,” You laughed sadly, and Kaminari saw Todoroki’s face flash with an emotion he had never noticed the stoic kid show before, “I know it’s not the same, but, I hope you know if anyone understands a cold past, it’s me,”

“No, no, I think you understand better than most.” Todoroki’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and Kaminari was certain he was about to watch a moment happen. So he scrambled away and up the stairs so he wouldn’t be labeled a pervert like Mineta.

~~~

“Why didn’t you stay and watch!!” Midoriya exclaimed.

“Because that would be fucking creepy you idiot,” Bakugo stood up, and looked at the two people who were his friends even if he would never openly admit that to anybody, “Izuku why don’t you just grow a fucking pair and ask one of them?”

“Well, because, what if it makes it weird?” Midoriya mumbled, not wanting to ruin his friendship with either of you, or between either of you.

“Listen, I am going to lay this out for you, we’ve all hung out with them together,” Bakugo snapped, his tone was aggressive but he wasn’t trying to be mean. He knew Midoriya liked you, and was finally getting over a previous crush because of you, “I mean even I’ve noticed shit, so maybe they do like each other, or maybe they don’t, you just have to grow a pair and fucking ask?”

~~~

Bakugo hated class parties, they were stupid and totally unnecessary in his opinion. He especially hated when extras from all over the school would come to the parties. The idiots from the other hero course, and then a few of the gen-ed students. Bakugo didn’t mind you though, you weren’t as annoying, mostly because you were borderline scared of him yelling at you so you tried your best to not piss him off. He appreciated the effort, so he found himself hanging around you as you played with the dress up items Ashido had left out for the Photo Booth. Bakugo even helped you pick out certain items, mostly so he could tell you how stupid you looked.

“Todoroki!” You called out, when the half-n-half man came into the room again. He looked up and spotted you, wearing a pair of obnoxiously large light up glasses. You grabbed a white and red feathered boa and practically jumped over the table to get to Todoroki.

Bakugo watched as the usual emotionally stunted idiot, actually laughed at how you looked. He saw your arms cross, and a pout form on your lips. Todoroki grabbed the boa out of your hand and put it around his neck with a straight face. You waved to Bakugo as you dragged Todoroki to the Photo Booth that had been rented. He could hear the two of you talking as you did..

“I can’t believe you laughed at me!” You said it in such a dramatic tone, as if you didn’t look like an actually insane person at the moment. Todoroki shook his head, a small chuckle slipping out again that made Bakugo want to hurl.

“I was laughing at your glasses and the way your eyes look in them,” Todoroki nudged you with his elbow as you waited for Kaminari to exit the Photo Booth, “Plus you smiled like a crazy person when you saw me,”

“Well, I was excited to see my best friend.” You huffed, and took the glasses off your face. You stood on your tip toes and put them on Todoroki. Bakugo checked out of your conversation when the two of you went into the Photo Booth.

~~~

“Why don’t you just ask her if they’re just friends or what?” Bakugo stared at Midoriya, who went wide eyed at the question.

“I can’t ask her!”

“Okay, then ask Todoroki,” Kaminari suggested.

“Yeah, idiot has a point, I mean your entire friendship started because you broke open his childhood trauma with a fucking crowbar, so asking about his feelings is nothing new.” Bakugo grabbed his drink and walked to the kitchen to refill his cup. Kaminari gave Midoriya an encouraging thumbs up, and grabbed his controller again.

Midoriya sighed, and got up to leave. He was not feeling better about it, but he also knew they were right. Midoriya went up to Todoroki’s room and knocked on the door. There was shuffling inside, and then Todoroki was at the door. He looked a little surprised when he opened it and saw Midoriya waiting for him there.

“Oh, Midoriya, did we have plans to study?” Todoroki blinked a few times, and Midoriya shook his head, “Are you okay?”

“Do you like her?”

“Do I like who? That’s very vague,” Midoriya answered with your name and Todoroki’s eyes widened a little before he regained his composure, “Well, yes, she is a likable person, and we are friends,”

“That’s not what I mean,” Midoriya sighed, remembering how dense his friend could be about these things, “Do you like her? Like if the idea of someone asking her on a date makes you angry type of like,”

Todoroki thought for a second, as if he was imagining the scenario in his head, his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at his shorter friend, “Yes, I like her,”

“Okay, so, tell her?” Midoriya’s tone caught Todoroki off guard, “Look, I’m trying to be a good friend here, but if you don’t do something soon, I’m doing something,”

“Do you.. Do you like her?” Todoroki looked genuinely worried at what the answer would be. He knew you and Midoriya were close too, you had pictures of the two of you on the pinboard in your dorm room. Todoroki had always wondered if you two were involved in that way. He actually wondered.. no worried, about it a lot.

“I did, I do,” Midoriya watched as his best friend’s face dropped, “So I am telling you to just go tell her how you actually feel, okay?”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Todoroki actually looked stress about it, running his hand back through his hair, “I mean, she’s so smart, funny, and she’s.. she’s beautiful Midoriya, not in just a generic beautiful way either, she’s like nothing I have ever seen before,”

“Todoroki, you’re telling the wrong person,” Midoriya knew that he was making the right choice in giving up on you, “Go, now, she’s in her dorm, I was supposed to go study with her this evening,”

Midoriya turned to walk away, so Todoroki wouldn’t have to see the disappointment he felt about doing this, Todoroki stopped him though, “Midoriya, thank you, truly,”

Midoriya sniffled a little and looked at his best friend, “Just don’t let me regret it, treat her right.”

Todoroki nodded firmly, and grabbed his shoes. He struggled to put them on as he scrambled down the hallway.

——-

your pov

——-

You were laying on your bed in your dorm room, rereading the texts from Todoroki from the previous night. When you texted him late at night mentioning your anxiety was insanely high, you weren’t expecting him to answer back as quickly as he did. Todoroki never left you on delivered for long though, unless he wasn’t by his phone or he was actually asleep when you tried to reach him. It was something that warmed your heart, an insane amount. Especially with all of the stress happening in your life. Trying to graduate, then handle fact most of your closest friends were heroes, also the fact that you had fallen too far in love with your best friend.

At first your interest was with Midoriya, after all he was cute, and actually saved your life when you almost fell down the stairs. It was just a small crush at first, but it was quickly washed away when you met Shouto Todoroki in person.

Everyone knew about him, just like the rest of class A. He was conventionally handsome, looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, and had an amazing quirk. Plus being the number one hero’s son made him pretty well know. From the rumors though, he sounded like he was kind of a jerk.

The rumors were wrong though.

Shouto Todoroki was a little awkward sure, but he was also kind. The second he met you, he did his best to make sure you felt included in the conversations he made with Midoriya. Then when you texted him to ask him a question about a history assignment you were doing, he was quick to answer it. That was when you found yourself texting him more often. Texting led to calls when you were bored. Calls led to the two of you hanging out privately without any of your mutual friends joining you both.

One night, you forgot that you were supposed to meet him. There had been a particularly hard call with your mom, an argument about something stupid. She had the tendency to say things she didn’t necessarily mean when she was mad, but it still broke your heart to hear her say them. Todoroki got worried when you didn’t show up at the gate, so he went to your dorm instead. He knocked a few times, and you opened the door with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. Todoroki’s heart almost broke seeing you that way.

“Are you okay?” He was slightly panicked that something awful had happened, but he didn’t know how much his genuine concern for you made you feel. You rushed forward, hugging him tightly and sobbing. Todoroki was stiff at first, but he wrapped his arms back around your shoulders. The feeling of being held by him was enough to make you want to crumble into pieces, but when he gently placed a hand on the back of your head and held you even closer to his chest.. You felt put back together again.

That was when Todoroki officially became your go to when it came to needing emotional support. The two of you finding ways to get the other open up. Todoroki helped you learn more about yourself, all while showing you more of him. You thought you were a bit delusional, but you were certain he was different around you than most of his other friends. You felt like you had a side of him that no one else got to know. Todoroki knew your coffee order, your favorite food, the type of blankets you liked. He played with your hair when you were sprawled out on your bed, complaining about something from school. Todoroki was just amazing, more than just his looks and cool quirks

Todoroki who always started the morning with a text, call, or sometimes show up at your dorm to make sure you didn’t snooze your alarm. Todoroki who would tense up when anyone got too close to his bubble, but who would hug you back when you were excited, sad, or even just feeling particularly clinging. He was good to you, and all you wanted was him. More than the friendship that was in between you both. Sometimes your wondered if maybe he felt the same..

~~~

You were standing in front of the mirror, staring at yourself in your fairy costume. There were so many options that your class could have picked, but instead they decided on a fantasy cafe. You got picked to be one of the fairies, which wouldn’t have been a huge deal, if you didn’t feel entirely self conscious in this costume. It didn’t look awful on you, but it also wasn’t the most modest thing you could wear.

“I’m sorry, I forgot my phone, you weren’t answering my knocking but the door was unlocked,” Todoroki walked in, slightly averting his eyes just in case you weren’t decent. He looked up briefly when he noticed you jump, and his mouth tightened up a little.

“PLEASE DO NOT LOOK AT THIS!” You shrieked, and Todoroki turned around quickly. Both of you were bright red by this point, and you were scrambling to put on your normal clothing. Once you were dressed you cleared your throat.

“Why were you wearing that?” Todoroki looked at the pink and green top and skirt that was now laid on the back of your chair, “Oh wait, is it for the festival?”

“Yeah my class is doing a ‘fantasy cafe’, so people got picked to be like princesses and what not,” You huffed, “I got picked to be a fairy, and the fairies all wanted everyone’s outfits to be at least similar,”

“You don’t sound excited?” Todoroki walked over and grabbed his phone off your bed. He almost reached for his sweatshirt to grab, but instead looked back at you. You were staring at the ground, nervously chewing on your lip.

“I look stupid in it, I can already hear the people making fun of me, do me a favor and make sure your class doesn’t show up there,” You hated how pathetic you sounded, being worried about people seeing you. Todoroki stared at the outfit, and then looked back at you.

“I thought you looked beautiful,” His tone was still as even as ever, but the words caused your face to flush even more. Todoroki raised an eyebrow and walked closer, touching your forehead with his hand, “You look like you’re getting a fever,”

“No, you just told me I’m beautiful,”

“Well, yes, you are,” Todoroki said it as if you shouldn’t even be questioning it. You wanted to scream, loving and hating the way he could just say these things without a care in the world, “Do you not think you are?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’m a troll or anything, but I’m not anything special?” You laughed a little, and looked up at him. Todoroki’s eyebrows creased, he went and grabbed his hoodie off the bed and brought it back over. He held it out for you.

“Clearly you are getting sick, your face is red, and you’re delirious, so you can use this till you feel better,” You stared at him like you were crazy, “You are the furthest from looking like a troll, Bakugo has you beat there,”

You laughed, an actual laugh again. Todoroki was clearly proud of himself for being able to cheer you up, you took the hoodie from him and held onto it, “Thank you, Todoroki,”

“I should get going, I will see you this weekend?” Todoroki slid his phone in his pocket and walked over to the door, he paused when he opened the door again, “Just so you know… I really do think you are beautiful.”

~~~

The quick knock at your door brought you back to the present. Midoriya was coming to study with you, both of you planned to quiz the other on your courses. You pulled yourself off your bed, and opened the door. It wasn’t Midoriya standing there though, it was Todoroki.

“Oh! Todoroki, are you okay? You don’t look-”

“I need to talk to you, Midoriya sent me, and I just I..” Todoroki took a deep breath, “I am new at this, so I need you to hear me out okay? Let me try to finish what it is I need to say before you start,”

You nodded slowly, and stepped aside so he could come in. Todoroki looked stressed, like there were a million thoughts running through his head. You didn’t know just how right you were for assuming that. Todoroki wasn’t usually one to just sweat normally, he could control his body temperature normally after all, but right now he looked like Kaminari when he accidentally pranked Bakugo instead of Kirishima. Besides the clear nervousness in his body language though, he held eye contact with you. You had to force yourself to not go down the rabbit hole of how pretty his eyes really were.

“I like you, more than just a like though, but not as much as.. Not as much as love yet, but yet I feel like it is love,” Todoroki blurted out the first part and then quickly tried to explain himself, and your jaw went slack, “I have been trying to watch movies, I have asked practically any girl I could, study any way to just do this, I thought I had more time but Midoriya showed up and told me to get it over with, so this is not planned out,”

“Todoroki-"

“Call me Shouto and let me finish,” He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, “I don’t even know what there is to finish, I think that’s mostly it, like I said I am not equipped for this,”

It wasn’t until you giggled that he stopped his panicked mumbling. You felt bad, but you had never seen Todoroki so flustered, so much so that he was picking up on his closest friends habits. Todoroki, no Shouto, was usually so calm and collected. At least he put on that front, there had been plenty of times that the facade fell apart. Right now though, the stoic protection he had around his heart was gone, and it was gone because of you.

“Why are you laughing?” He deadpanned, the fluster going away at the fact you couldn’t even take his attempt at a confession seriously. The instant stoic look on his face made you break into a fit of giggles all over again. Todoroki was about to walk out, just due to the sheer amount of embarrassment he felt in that moment. You grabbed his hand though before he could run.

“I’m laughing because you’re so nervous to tell me how you feel, I mean I’ve seen you panicked but never this bad,” You giggled, and he looked back up from staring at your now connected hands, “Shouto, do you remember when I told you to drop saying my name so formally?”

“Yes, you said that someone who meant so much to you should call you by your given name, so I started calling you by your given name,” Shouto recalled the events, and you raised an eyebrow to see if he would understand. You were a blushing mess when you did it, and on the day of love nonetheless. From the look on his face you could see that he wasn’t understand what you were trying to hint at.

“Shouto, I was trying to do what you’re doing right now, but I said it and you said,” You tried to do your best impression of him, “Oh, I can do that, now do you know this math question?”

Todoroki glared at you a little for mocking him, but the glare went away when he realized at some point his fingers had slid to interlock with yours. Both of you looked down at your hands, and you blushed a little but squeezed his hand. You looked back up at him, you could see that he had relaxed a little. He looked over your face, before he let out a breath that it seemed like he had been holding for way too long.

“I said it already, but I’m new to this, I probably won’t be that great about this, but I want to try, if you’ll let me,” Todoroki’s voice was softer than you had ever heard, that mixed with the way he was looking at you made you want to melt into a puddle. Maybe even pinch yourself at the fact that this could all be a dream.

“I-I would really like to try,” You whispered, your eyes flicking to his lips before you looked back up at him. You wanted him to kiss you, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment by making him uncomfortable. Todoroki nodded, before his own eyes looked at your lips.

“I..” He shook his head, stopping himself from going on another tangent. Instead he leaned down, hesitating when his forehead pressed against yours. Both of you were breathing a little quicker, you squeezed your eyes shut. You wanted so badly to close the distance between you, his lips were right there, all you needed to do was lift your head just press your lips against his.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I’m not kidding, I have no idea what I’m doing,” Todoroki whispered, his nose gently bumped into yours, “All I know is, I hate it when you cry,”

~~~

“Where is he?” Todoroki looked around the room with a glare that seemed like it could do more damage than even just his quirks. A boy from your class had made a crude comment to you, and when you stood up for yourself, he used his quirk to make you trip. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, if you weren’t carrying your lunch tray.. Also if it hadn’t been in front of everyone.

“I-I don’t know,” You sniffled, trying your hardest to fight back the tears. Todoroki’s anger seemed to instantly go away when he heard that, and he gently tugged your hand away so that you wouldn’t cry in front of everyone. The two of you were in the hallway when you finally fell apart. School had been stressful, life had been stressful, now this.

Todoroki hesitated for a moment, but he pulled you into a tight hug. He didn’t give a damn that you were covered in food, and it was now getting all over his white shirt. That didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was the absolute pain he felt when he heard you make the sound you did before the tears started. It felt like someone was forcing him to swallow hot coals. He held on tight to you, squeezing slightly, rubbing your back.

Todoroki would hold you for however long you needed him to, because he never wanted to hear you son like that again.

~~~

“I hate that I can’t spend everyday with you, I hate not being near you, or when I feel like you’re too far away,” His hand came up and held your cheek, his forehead still pressing against yours, “But I don’t know how to be a boyfriend, I barely knew how to be a friend for the longest time,”

“I would take that chance with you,” You whispered, and tilted your chin up a little more so your lips were closer to his. Todoroki took a deep breath, especially after feeling your residual lip gloss grazed his lips.

Todoroki stopped fighting it, and finally introduced his lips to yours. The hand on your cheek slid back a little to hold the side of your head, his fingers gently intertwined with your hair. You felt your entire body simultaneously relax but yet come to life. This had to have been what Kaminari’s quirk felt like, because all of your nerve endings were standing on edge as if an electric shock was flowing through you. Everything around you seemed to stand still, nothing else on the earth mattered. Todoroki’s lips were soft, and he slightly tasted like the sweet peppermint chapstick you had bought him at Christmas. The kiss was gentle and slow. There was no rush, no hurry at all, because this moment was perfect.. This moment couldn’t have been more perfect. Todoroki finally pulled back, to look over your face again, still keeping his hand in the same spot. Todoroki’s thumb reached and gently rubbed your cheekbone.

“No matter what happens, I know we’ll still be okay,” Todoroki sounded like was reassuring himself more than you. You still nodded quickly though, squeezing his hand that was still holding yours, “…Is that my sweatshirt?”

“….No?”

“It is, you told me you lost it when I asked for it?”

“Well, first lesson in being a boyfriend, these are our clothes now,”

“I feel like you’re tricking me, but I will just let you have this one.”

#no this isn’t proof read #mha shouto todoroki #bnha shouto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto todoroki #deku midoriya #bnha midoriya #todoroki fluff #shouto x you #shouto fluff #bnha fluff #deal with it #shoto mha #mha bakugou #mha deku #mha shouto

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hekateinhell · 7 months

Note

sending this well after you've probably gone to bed HOWEVER i am always ready to report for louis/armand/lestat duty so HERE GOES:

Every time they get in a petty fight, someone rearranges the vinyl collection at Trinity Gate. Louis organizes alphabetically by artist, Armand organizes by genre, and Lestat organizes chronologically. The music room is a goddamn war zone.

When Lestat is an Extra Extra Good Boy (or just in need of some tlc in general) Louis and Armand make the best mani-pedi team. Louis takes a foot and Armand takes a hand, then they switch for the opposite side.

Somehow Armand gets ahold of the tattered old TVL band shirt that Louis used to sleep in. He lounges around the house in it and has both Lestat and Louis drooling in SECONDS (bonus smut points if Louis and Lestat both take turns fucking him in it)

Also this is just Louis/Armand but listen i've been thinking a lot lately of how strong Armand is!!! Like I know the fun thing about his character is that he's got the craziest mental tenacity for someone trapped in a small/young body, but I do think people sleep on how physically strong he is as well. Anyway, all I'm saying is: I want to see him hoist Louis up against a wall and fuck him <3 I want Louis to get overpowered and dicked down by someone half a foot shorter than him LOL it would be good for him!!!!!!

ASHLEYYYYY OH MY GOD I LOVE ALL THESE SO MUCH YOU ALWAYS HIT ME WHERE I LIVE!!! 😭😭😭

i love thinking about what their domestic life would look like LMAO canon or human AU because all three of them complement and contrast each other so fucking well, i'm all over that all day every day!!!! asksfkdsgj rip the music room 💀 i hope to god nobody gets petty enough to fuck with the library and louis's meticulously thought out system of displaying his books that only he knows (lestat gets petty enough, armand knows better -- tbh idk if he actually ever gets mad at louis? as easily as lestat sets him off, louis has the opposite effect. but for argument's sake, i think if louis did piss armand off, armand would react by pretending he's fine but he would immediately start being infantilizing and weird. really, really emphasizing the "sweet, dusty louis" every other sentence like he's marius talking to a wain victorian orphan).

NO BUT THIS IS SO SWEET!!! not to get too serious but for canon fic i think about court era!lestat a lot and like how he comes right out and says to marius "you don't want a prince in me, you want a figurehead, you would be the ruler here" and really just all the times he sounds so Tired & Done™️ in general with everything. lestat getting some TLC from his consort and madame de pompadour on the regular is harm reduction at its finest lbr. i wanna see armand and louis giving him a perfumed bath a la QotD but without the trauma (and like in Air Catcher too now that i've triggered the memory, i love your brain so much DO YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN I REREAD THAT FIC 🥹)

OH MY GOD STOP PLEASE!!! i wanna know like was armand intentional about wearing louis's lestat shirt? in his mind, is this The Next Logical Step in their threesome relationship? was he expecting a reaction or was he just looking to self-soothe and instead of going for one of louis's baggy sweaters that would hit the thigh on armand, he just grabbed the shirt? regardless, i hope they dped him 🫶🏼 (i totally need this to happen both in canon verse and in teen au future verse)

NO ASHLEY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND LMAO NOBODY KNOWS BECAUSE I HAVE TOO MUCH GOING ON TO ACTUALLY WRITE BUT THE SMUT MACHINE NEVER STOPS AND LATELY I JUST WANT ARMAND TO TOP EVERYONE!!!! i wanna see the short king bend back those long legs and go to town on these catholic boys! 🤧 armand is the ultimate switch and he is, in his own words, NOT A WAIF. he can lift that bag of bones easily!!! ❤️ and i remember we talked about like top/bottom dynamics with lestat and louis--either physically or just energy wise--and how it would probably take a considerable amount of time and effort for louis to heal enough to relinquish that control to lestat again following the RR years and all that went down... i'm thinking like if i wanted squish armand in there and I DO, it would be a good step in that direction for louis to practice being open (get it? i'll see myself out) with armand first (literally expanding on PL canon here just adding the sex LMAO). tl;dr: it would be good for both of them if armand fucked that sad, wet man (as a treat) ALSO ALSO SEE MY FAVE "ARMAND FUCKS LOUIS" FICLET THAT IS WAY TOO FUCKING SHORT

#my answers are very stream of consciousness these days i can't be bothered but also-#I HAD SO MANY INCOHERENT THOUGHTS I'M SORRY ILY THANK YOU <3 #armand/lestat/louis #armand/louis #vc #you ask and hekate answers

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definitelynotshouting · 8 months

Note

hihiiiiii looking at the quality/length difference between my last two anon asks and giggling but if you want an excuse to talk about the pearl-grian convo in more depth i’d love to hear about your thought process :D

HELLO ANON as i am typing this while on a trip to the coast so forgive me if this is a little disjointed!!!! Also ur so right the difference was very funny i was giggling too dkejdjejdjd

I'll shove most of this under a readmore, because this is BOUND to get long

Okay so-- play by play time :]

These lines of dialogue start out fairly simply, but it's already loaded with unspoken things. Pearl has kinda been haunting the narrative so far, avoiding Grian and flitting around the edges of his periphery; her comment about the animals is a hint at how she's been coping behind the scenes. Pearl has been obsessively caring for the animals they've rounded together, because it's something concrete she can focus on instead of Grian's incredibly frail position.

Ahhhh the couch and cows conversation. This was honestly one of my favorite moments to write; there's SO MUCH packed in these few lines. Something I wanted to really reference-- and what becomes more apparent later on in the scene-- is that Pearl has not processed any of her trauma from the life games (Double Life especially). She is so full of distrust for the people around her; she was fully ready to believe that Tango was spreading rumors about her the way everyone spoke about her in Double Life, hence her reaction to Grian here. You can see here that when Grian reveals it was a joke, she processes it and then replies as if she had known it was a joke all along.

On a more meta level, this is me trying to show how much of a hair trigger she's on. Pearl is so so tense around everyone, especially former life members, and my gods she has some grudges-- something that will become very plot relevant later, although maybe not in the way everyone might expect.

There's a dual meaning here that I think a lot of people picked up on the first part of, but not the second-- Pearl here is both referring to the life members and their relationship with Grian as a predator (the concept of Grian only befriending them for his benefit/amusement), and how Grian clearly views himself (a monster only good for being slaughtered). The others have been talking behind the scenes this entire time; it's pretty well known by now that Grian is still extremely suicidal, and as much as Pearl is digging at him for what he did to them in the games, she still cares about him and has some Feelings™ about him wanting to die.

HERE is where Pearl fully transitions over to digging at Grian for the life games. She's also making some pretty educated guesses here; at this point in time, everyone's information on WHY Grian made the life games is pretty spotty. She's fishing for information while poking him with the metaphorical cattle prod, in a way that sorta obfuscates her actual intentions.

On a meta level, this is also a callback to Tango's previous question of whether or not Grian can still eat normal food (he can, it just doesn't do anything for him nutritionally)!!

My gods this line...... Grian is realizing just how fucked up Pearl still is from Double Life. She's wearing her heart on her sleeve here, changing her eye colour to match how they looked at the end of DL. She's forcing everyone around her to see what they did to her, to look at the damage they caused through the isolation and the rumors and the fear, and not giving them the option of turning away. There's a certain aggression there, a need to be recognized and validated, that Grian is suddenly seeing first hand. And its scary!!!!

Then, of course, the lead in to Pearl finally getting to the point-- she has questions, she wants answers, she's not taking "no" for one of them. Her final line in this snippet is also a callback to the beginning of the chapter, where Grian talks about how they just... never asked questions of each other. And now she is, and Grian isn't prepared for it.

Skipping ahead a bit now, because the rest of the conversation up to this point is fairly straightforward, but this line-- this line was the one that made me feel like i was taking 10000 volts to the fucking chest.

This is absolutely shameless projection on Pearl's part. She remembers being alone and scared; now she sees Grian alone and scared. And to her, it's the same thing, even though their circumstances were and are drastically different. It's easy to see him as herself, in this moment, and this is one of Pearl's major points: she isn't going to leave him. Yes, she's angry; yes, she's traumatized; yes, it's ultimately because of him.

But right now, he needs a friend. And she remembers when needed one of those, and how hard it was when she only had her dog to help her.

She's not going to let that happen to Grian.

That's more or less the behind the scenes of that conversation-- there were three main points i wanted to hit, which were:

She has questions, she wants answers (why did you do it? why did you hurt us? why are you trying to kill yourself?)

She sees herself in him

She isn't going to abandon him, she isn't going to leave, and things are never going to go back to the way they were.

Honestly the response to this chapter has been incredible, so i like to think i mostly nailed the intentions here, and im really REALLY grateful that everyone has enjoyed it so much :] idk when the next chapter is going to come out, but i do have maybe.... about half??? maybe a third??? of it finished. Hopefully its just as good as this one did, because my gods i packed a lot in here 😂😂😂😂😂

Hope you enjoyed the little behind the scenes analysis!!!! Here's a little bonus ocean pic for getting to the very end:

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #pearlescentmoon #grian #hermitcraft #mcyt #meta #analysis #behind the scenes #images should all have ids in alt text!! lemme know if one breaks or needs fixing #txt

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malarkgirlypop · 7 months

Text

MEDIC! - 6th Part (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hello, that was mean of me wasn't it, leaving you hanging off the cliff. Well here you go the next part. This story is so long, I am so sorry if you aren't a long story fan but I cannot stop myself. I love my OC she is me I am her, she is all of us. @brassknucklespeirs has been giving me some tasty little story lines so you know it's gonna be good. I'm so excited like the last chapter it's intense. I should make a playlist for Emily but I'm busy. I might do it later if people want it. As per usual this is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the real men in WW2.

Trigger warning: Talks of rape, violence, use of derogatory language.

I gasp for air, my eyes opening, I look up at the same scene I saw when Malarkey was carrying me through the forest, the green against the white.

“She’s breathing!” I look around worried faces come into my vision. “Em, Oh God!” someone says from behind me. Sighs of relief fill the air.

“Emmy! Jesus, way to scare us all to death.” Lieb says to my left. I go to sit up.

“Woah, steady there Darlin’.” Bull moves behind me resting my back on his front.

“Lieb?” I croak out, looking at the man confused at what everyone is so worried about. Gene sits on his haunches at my waist puffing.

“Your heart stopped!” Gene pants. I take a deep breath finding that my chest aches, probably from the compressions he would’ve had to do. I look out of the foxhole to see Malarkey and Nixon both looking like they are about to pass out. Winters stands beside them watching me closely.

“Sorry to scare you all.” I look at each of them. Lieb moves forward pulling me into his embrace, I hug him back. “Don’t do that again.” He says sternly in my ear. “Yes, Sir.” I whisper, earning a chuckle.

“Let’s get you out of this hole.” Bull says, he easily pulls me to my feet. “How do you feel? Can you walk?” He asks. I nod moving slowly, it feels so good to move again. I am helped by the men to climb out of the foxhole.

“Ok men back to the front, spread the good news.” The men grumble but head back to the front. Nixon stands close, putting his hand on the small of my back to ensure I am steady on my feet.

“Let’s get you something to eat and drink. You’ll need a new top too. The buttons have been ripped off of the one you are wearing.” Winters says, I look down, finding my long sleeve shirt hanging open. I wrap the top around me.

The next day we sit in the tent. I slowly sip tea that Winters made for me. A blanket hangs from my shoulders. Nixon sits across from me watching my every move like I will vanish if he takes his eye off me.

“Who did it Em?” Nixon questions leaning forward. I think back to the incident, the faces are blurred, the men themselves seem like they have been censored from my mind. I shake my head trying to get the picture to clear.

“Nixon! Don’t ask her that! She will tell us when she’s ready.” Winters reprimands the intelligence officer.

“I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. I remember finding something that scared me and then, I can’t, it’s blank.” I say disheartened. Nixon’s brows crease as he takes my hand resting on the table between us giving me a loving squeeze.

“I’m sorry Em, I just. Ugh. I just want those men to be dealt with.” He’s angry, his jaw hard set as he looks behind me. Gunshots fire in the distance pulling my focus.

“When can I go back?” I ask looking towards Winters. Both Winters and Nixon look at me like I have grown another head.

“Emily you just got better, you’re technically still recovering.” Winters makes his way over to me, laying his hand on my shoulder.

“I can’t sit here and do nothing, I feel like I will go insane trying to replay whatever happened to me.” I plead my case to Winters.

“But it was a big trauma Em.” His face softens, still trying to get me to rest.

“I feel better, I swear I will take it easy. I will just help Gene.” I beg, giving my best puppy dog eyes to convince him.

“Oh fine, fine!” He concedes throwing up his hands in surrender.

“YES!” I stand shaking off the blanket, grabbing my gear. I scoot past Winters on my way past giving him a quick peek on the cheek. He chuckles and shakes his head as I make my way over to the front.

I make my way to Gene, he looks weary and cold. “You good Gene?” I ask as I approach.

“I should be asking you that aye Em?” He gives a small smile. “How well are you stocked?” He asks.

“Not good, only a few bandages, no plasma and like one morphine. How about you?” I look through the stock in my bag.

“About the same.” He says. “I was thinking we are going to have to scavenge a bit to get supplies, we are going to need it.” He is tired, he looks like he needs a good sleep.

“I will do whatever you need Gene, just tell me what you want me to do.” I say giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

I follow him as we try to find the other medic Doc Ryan so that we can trade items and stock take our supplies.

“Spina.” Gene calls to the medic digging a hole in the frozen ground.

“Doc.” Spina acknowledges the man.

“What’s happening?” Gene asks.

“We’re digging in, right along the line.” Spina says while shovelling.

“So what did you get?” Spina asks Gene, throwing the shovel over his shoulder.

“I got uh. I got this and I got myself a Kraut bandage.” Gene hands him things, as they both take a seat in the half dug foxhole. I make my way over sitting on the edge of the hole.

“What? This is it?” Spina says when Gene doesn’t hand him anything else.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Gene sounds defeated, god I didn’t know we were so low on everything.

“What about you?” Spina turns his attention to me.

“Same for me.” I say rummaging through my medic bag. I watch Gene pull his last Morphine syrette, I only have one on my person as well.

“You know, First Battalion has pulled out of Foy. Heavy casualties.” Gene says to Spina.

“They left?” I ask, having missed the update.

“So, if they’re pulling back then what the hell are we doing sitting here?” Spina asks, Gene is focused on the morphine in his hand.

“We need more morphine. This is all I got.” He put the morphine back into its box tucking it away in his bag.

“You got extra scissors?” Gene asks the both of us. I shake my head.

“Uh-uh just the one.” Spina says drinking from his canteen.

“First Sergeant Lipton.” I hear being called out through the woods. A man appears at the foxhole. “What’s this? Three medics in one hole?” He asks, dramatically putting his hand on his hip, I choke back a laugh. Who is this guy?

“Yes Sir!” Spina replies.

“And what’s going to happen to us if you take a hit? Huh?” The man stands with his hand tucked onto his hip trying to be assertive, but Spina seems to take the man for a joke.

Lip marches up behind the man, “Sir?” he asks.

“First Sergeant, where is my foxhole?” The man demands. My mouth falls open at the rude way he speaks to Lip.

Lip looks incredulously at the man, “this way Sir.” He motions his hand back in the direction the man appeared from. None of the other medics seem to be paying attention to this interaction, I watch intently.

“Maybe you missed it, huh?” Lip says to the man. “I’ll walk you back Sir. You’re a bit close to the line here.” Lip seems to be annoyed at the man.

“Goddammit.” The man mutters, marching away.

“Who is that man?” I ask the boys sitting in front of me.

“That’s First Lieutenant Dike, the men are calling him foxhole Norman though.” Spina says in a hushed voice.

“Why?” I question.

“He goes missing whenever there is action, says he is going for a walk but who knows where he goes.” Spina says. I let my mouth fall open.

“And he’s the First Lieutenant?” I ask surprised, Spina nods. I raise my eyebrows making a judgemental face.

“Alright here's the plan Em,” Gene says to me as we leave Spina, “you go down to Dog company, see what you can scrounge from the men and I will go to Fox.” Gene instructs pointing behind me. “Keep low Em, meet me back at Easy when you are done.” He turns and walks away from me. I follow his instructions, keeping back from the line as I make my way over to where Dog company is stationed, not far over from Easy.

I make my way over to one of the foxholes back from the line, dropping inside next to another man.

“First Sergeant?” I ask the man huddling in the foxhole.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” The Sergeant replied.

“Lane, I’m one of the medics from Easy Sir.” I introduce myself to the man.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He seemed surprised.

“Excuse me?” I ask, shocked by his comment.

“Ah, nothing. What do you want, Lane?” The man dismisses his previous question.

“I came to see if you have any extra medical supplies?” I tell the man.

“You might have to go ask the men for their own supplies, we are running low as well.” He sighs, focusing his eyes back onto the line. I go to climb out of the hole when his hand grabs my forearm. “We actually have a couple casualties, can you tend to them, I have no idea where our medic is.” His stare pins me to the ground, not giving any room to protest. I give a sharp nod. “That one over there has someone in it.” He points to a foxhole a couple of metres away.

I leave the hole, keeping low, I drop into the foxhole that the Sergeant pointed out to me. A man lies in the bottom, I almost land on him as I enter. The other man keeps eyes on the line. I see blood soaking into the green of his jacket on his shoulder.

“Hey!” I say tapping the man, he flinches at my touch. He turns over to look at me, “What happened?” I ask the man, who vacantly stares past me. I shake him again trying to get his attention but his stare remains distant.

“Hey, what’s this guy's name? Do you know what happened?” I ask the other soldier crouched next to me. He slowly swivels to face me, as our eyes lock, terror washes over my features. I feel my heart stop as a cold sweat pricks at my skin. I go to stand trying to escape him but I don’t move fast enough. The man who pinned me down in the woods grabs my mouth preventing me from making any noise, slamming my head back into the side of the foxhole. My helmet only takes so much of the brunt, black spots dance over my vision.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” The man says in disbelief, coming into my face to whisper so that no one can hear what is going on. I struggle beneath his hold. “I should’ve killed you when I got the chance.” My body stills at the words, “but I don’t have a thing for fucking dead bodies.” A fire ignites in my chest, my blood coursing through my body filled with hate. I open my mouth biting down hard at the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, I bite hard enough to draw blood. The man yelps in pain, snatching his hand back but he moves quickly striking his palm to my cheek. I tuck my knees to my chest using the wall behind me to send him flying back crashing into the other wall. I clamber out of the foxhole, but still he is quick. Grabbing my ankles he yanks me back into the hole, not before a scream rips from my throat echoing through the trees. I am soon back on the floor of the foxhole and the man clamps a hand around my mouth and his other around my throat.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he hisses in my face repeatedly, thumping my body into the ground as his hand squeezes my neck, cutting off my blood and oxygen supply. My head spins from the loss of air. I claw at his face with my nails drawing blood from his cheeks.

“What the fuck is going on?” I hear from above us, the man quickly releases me from his grasp. I crawl away from him sucking in gulps of air into my burning lungs. I haul myself out of the hole lying in the snow. Other men have gathered around to see what the commotion was. I hear the sound of feet crunching in the snow, the men from Easy arrive, I watch their eyes survey the scene, Lieb and Malarkey leading with Bull, Toye and Bill not far behind. Malarkey’s eyes find me first widening at the sight of me sprawled out on the snow.

“Should I repeat myself, Private?” The man who found us first speaks, I recognise him. Speirs, the man who everyone is afraid of due to the rumours; there is one about him giving out smokes to a bunch of POWs before shooting them all.

The soldier has climbed out of the hole sitting on his knees in front of Speirs. I roll over, slowly getting to my feet, swaying, I shake my head steadying myself.

“She attacked me first.” He accuses. I snort, spitting the blood from my mouth onto the snow. “She bit me!” he holds out his hand for Speirs to see.

“And tell me how, Private, that your hand got so close to her mouth that she bit it.” Speirs tilts his head as he stares down the man with his deadly glare. There is movement from behind Speirs. I flick my gaze over watching Bull hold back a raging Lieb, the other men watch with looks that could kill.

“Yeah, tell them Private.” I taunt the man, “tell them how you couldn’t get it up.” I wipe the blood running down my cheek, giving the man a sadistic grin.

“Tell them how you brought two other men to hold me down while you tried to rape me. What? Were you worried that you weren’t strong enough to do it by yourself?” My brows quirks as I ask the question, arms folded in front of me. I walk up to the man getting close to his face. “Should I tell everyone that you’re a coward with a tiny cock?” The man seethes, he growls in anger flinging himself forward taking me down to the ground. I laugh in his face. “God you’re so easy to wind up.” He is quickly dragged up from on top of me. I am helped to my feet by Malarkey, the rest of the men looking like they are chomping at the bit to fight.

“Take that man to the Captain, tell them what he did. Find the other men who attacked Lane the other day and bring them in too.” Speirs commands two soldiers to drag the man away.

“Go back to your spots men, the show is over.” Speirs announces, as the men watching slowly dissipate back into the burrows. The Easy company men are by my side in seconds. Malarkey stands close, he cups my face, his eyes frantically scanning my head looking for any injuries.

“I’m fine Malark.” I try to say but he has squished my face so it makes it harder to talk.

“Fucking Dog company.” Lieb seethes next to me. Bull watches me concerned. Toye and Bill are on guard, glaring down any man that walks too close to the group.

“Easy company come with me.” Commands Speirs. He marches back towards where we are camped. We follow him back, Malarkey and Lieb glued to me. Lieb looks ready for a fight. I watch his hands clench and unclench. His jaw tight, his eyes dart around. Malarkey is the same, I have never seen him angry before, I have always known him as kind and sweet but this man escorting me back to the camp is vengeful, his face is hard and stoic but his eyes are a blazing fire.

“At least we found him.” I try to make light of the situation but the men don’t reply seemingly in their own world, I’m sure they are planning various ways to make the soldier pay for his crimes. The men in front of us are no different, their silence is deafening. We arrive, Winters and Nixon look pissed. They dismiss the other men only leaving me with the Captains and Speirs.

We sit in the tent around the table, I look at the floor fiddling with the button on my jacket. I feel like I have been brought into the principal's office to be scolded.

“What happened?” Winters asks Speirs who sits next to me.

“Well Sir I’m sure we all heard the scream that alerted us to the situation in the first place.” Starts Speirs leaning his arms on the table.

“It took me a while to find where the noise actually came from, since she was, I am assuming, dragged back into the foxhole by the soldier.” He looks to me for confirmation, to which I nod.

“When I finally found where the sound came from I looked into the hole to find the man strangling Lane here, he was also covering her mouth and whispering to her, but I didn’t hear what was said.” Speirs says. I feel their eyes land on me.

“He was telling me to shut up.” I say looking up to meet Winters eyes, regretting my decision, the look on his face breaking my heart. I avert my gaze back to the ground.

“Did he say anything else?” Nixon asks.

“He said that he should’ve killed me when he had the chance, but that he…” I pause, clearing my throat. I take a breath, I don’t want to have to tell Nixon and Winters what the asshole said to me. It was bad enough to hear from him but I keep going. “He said that he didn’t have a thing for fucking dead bodies.” I bite my lip looking up at the men, disgust evident on their faces.

“Thank you Lane, we will have this sorted.” Winters says dismissing me. He can’t even look at me, none of them can. I bite my inner lip. Standing I leave the tent letting them figure out what they want to do with the man.

#band of brothers #donald malarkey #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #reading #joe toye #tropes #bill guarnere #authors #shes a bad bitch #B #I #CT #H #please read #give me some love I'm depraved #love me a girl who fights back #shes so sassy

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 8 months

Text

Nothing and Everything - Part 8

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, PTSD, mentions of hospitalization.

Word Count: 5299

Part Eight: It's time to communicate. Or at least try. Why can they only get part of the story? What do they have to do to come to an understanding?

Previous Chapter HERE

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“I’m supposed to be happy. To be cheerful, aren’t I? To be this shining beacon of light in the dark.” Steven gazed up at the gray sky, feeling the wind shift as it rustled through the trees and the birds moved as if following the sun.

He closed his eyes and let the last of the warm rays bathe his face before they faded behind the clouds.

Today was the day. The day when he had become we. Perhaps that was what it really meant. The birth of a brother. When I became us and when mine became ours.

The loss of a brother, when everything became nothing.

Now here they existed in this nothing desperately trying to make it work.

Steven felt like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was hard for him to admit that he had done wrong when he was doing what he felt was necessary. It had never crossed his mind that it had the potential to hurt them.

Yet, he had still kept it a secret and done it without asking. Perhaps a part of him had been afraid of being told no.

Marc had been so distant lately and hardly around. Steven had felt he was free to make that call. He had not thought that anything about the situation might trigger Marc out.

You are lucky I didn’t answer the phone.

Jake had chastised him, making him feel like a small child, as Jake cleaned up the mess. The mess being Marc.

He watched memories be swept away like so much dirt on the floor. The papers were pushed into a top drawer of his desk and locked away. Jake had elected not to dispose of the past, but had made it very clear that if Steven were to look at it, he had better do it when Marc wasn’t around.

Why do you have to be difficult? You don’t need to know these things. These things don’t involve you. They aren’t your timeline.

But they did. They involved Marc and Jake. They involved the body. They involved the making of them.

“What does involve me? What history do I have?” Steven had been angry. Demanding to know his place in how they got here.

You have every happy thought and moment of peace.

The message on the board was for them all. Talk. How did they talk? How was it possible to communicate when Steven sat alone in the light and the other two hid in the shadows?

Steven had asked Layla, much like a child asking for permission, if he could go outside on a walk through the park. She had hesitated, offering to go with him. “I need this. Please?”

She had nodded, saying that she couldn’t keep them caged up forever. Perhaps a test of her fragile trust. Steven promised not to run.

How could he run when the problem was very much a part of him?

“We can’t heal if we don’t know what we are healing from.” Steven sighed. “I’m not some house plant that you feed and water and put in the sun so that it can look nice.”

You are not the one with the trauma. You are here to support us. Jake argued.

“Presumptuous, don’t you think?” Steven shot back. “My trauma and your trauma may look different, but they are still traumas. Bad memories can’t and shouldn’t always just be covered up!”

I’m sorry you feel bad. I really am. Jake sounded tired. We aren’t ready to all sit here anguished in memories that just hurt. You saw what happens when it becomes too much.

“So I’m just supposed to never be sad? To be upset or overwhelmed? That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think?” Steven hunched as he continued his walk through the park. His favorite oversized sweater kept the gusts of cool air from chilling him, even in the warm afternoon rays of the sun. Summer was ending but there was still some fight left in it.

So what do you want to know? Do you want to know how many people we killed in the service? Do you want to know that we weren’t always the good guys? Do you want to know how many detentions we got or how we flunked out of chemistry? Do you want to know how to most effectively reload a gun when under fire? How to avoid getting stabbed in hand to hand combat? Maybe you want to know the best way to defend yourself against a belt buckle! Or do you want just the basics on how to pretend to be good so the psychiatrist will let you out of solitary after you tried to escape!

“Have you ever erased my memories?” Steven paused to let a happy family walk past him on the path. Two seemingly loving parents doting on their young child. Would it stay that way forever? The child had yet to disappoint them. The father had yet to look the other way and slowly disappear into a silent background. The mother had yet to fall into alcoholic dependence that both distanced her from them all and also sparked a violent fire that would burn them.

You know the answer to that.

“No. I don’t.” Steven watched the family disappear down the path. “I know the fake memories. Those are mine. Those were my coping mechanisms. I’m dealing with that. I’m sorting it out and I’m dealing with the fact that I’m…”

Not real. Made up. A fictive.

It didn’t matter how many times Marc and Layla both tried to reassure him that it didn’t matter. That Marc hadn’t made him up. It still didn’t take away from the knowledge that he now had that he was a person born from a desperate need to be someone and something else. It didn’t take away from the fact that Marc had a history and Jake was his own person from the start.

You are Steven Grant. You are a man with your own wants and desires and stubborn ass beliefs. Jake sighed softly. I have never taken away your memories. I’d made up stories to explain why you suddenly woke up in Bosnia or Pakistan, and you accepted them happily because you were not ready for the truth. You once woke up in the middle of a gun fight and fought me when I tried to put you back to sleep. You won’t remember that because it didn’t fit into your narrative. I never had anything to do with how you handled your memories. I only take away what Marc can’t handle.

“Dreams.” Steven nodded. “The feeling of restlessness and travel. It’s what I told myself.”

His own coping device had always been to brush it off and continue on. On and on and on until it was too much not to look away from. Until Marc had crumbled at his feet and Steven had literally tripped over him.

“Why didn’t you stop it? When Marc went back for…For Mum’s funeral. Why did you let it get that bad? Why let me out? Why did you let me wander off with our life and away from Layla?” Steven gripped his sleeves as he found a bench and sat on it. “Why let me wander into that gun fight in that village?”

Jake was silent a moment and Steven could feel him shifting inside.

I was…compromised.

“Compromised? What does that mean?”

When she died. I… went to sleep. I woke up in the Alps.

Steven looked up as if he might see Jake standing before him, eyes on the ground and hat down low to hide his face. “You went dormant?”

Not to that extent… But close to it. I didn’t think I was helping. With her dead it felt like I wasn’t needed. That maybe I was hurting things. That maybe we could get our lives back together and just be… normal.

“I was dormant then too.” Steven looked down at his hands. “I know I wasn’t around. Years… There are so many years I have missing. You tried to give the live back to Marc. You didn’t think he would break down and try to give the life to me.”

We all make mistakes, Steven. Was it so wrong of me to think that without me or you that maybe if we were one person that things might be easier? Marc obviously had the same thought with a slightly different twist.

“Bloody hell.” Steven closed his eyes and listened to the wind rustle the still green trees. Soon their leaves would turn and fall. Bare limbs reaching for a sun that sat too far away and indifferent to care for them. “We are a mess, aren’t we?”

It was nice for a while, wasn’t it? Just you out here living… Doing normal things… Being one person….

“I’m not one person!” Steven snapped loudly and winced as a jogger gave them plenty of space as they went by.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m not one person. I was given the stage without a script! I was alone and shouldn’t have been! I should have known what was going on and I didn’t! Some of that is my fault but you both left me drowning and did nothing!”

I’m not here for you! Jake snapped back. My purpose was Marc! Not you! Every time I ran was because of him! Every time I had to protect us it was because of him, not you! How was I supposed to keep an eye on you when every time I looked away from him we died!

“Try looking at yourself for a change, Jake!” Steven stood up, angry and wanting to stand his ground. “You’re a part of this life too! Try living in it!”

I DID LIVE IN IT!

Steven huffed for a moment then a thought hit him hard. “Did Marc go dormant before?”

Two years. Maybe three. I was primary host. We were still very young.

“Was I around?” Steven sat back down.

A bit. You went to synagogue and major holidays. You were the good one. Marc started to dissociate so much that he became a problem. He couldn’t run the life and you were too…you. We were in hiding, Steven. This isn’t normal. You have to understand that. A little british boy has no place in a hispanic jewish family in Chicago.

Steven nodded. He understood the concept of masking but the thought to actually do it always made him feel ill. It was just one more thing Jake had been forced to do in order to protect them.

I had to take over. Marc is missing those years. He faded so hard and fast that I thought he might disappear all together.

“Like the others?” Steven probed gently. A suspicion that he had long had ever since he started looking into their condition.

Jake quietly and carefully checked to make sure Marc was nowhere near. Steven could feel him locking doors and shuttering the place till it was like they were both enclosed in some sort of tomb.

Yes. There were others. They came and went. Some split, some just showed up. They never stayed long. There was one that only showed up to eat since Marc went on a hunger strike once. They all had specific purposes. I can’t tell you how many. I don’t know. There was one that was obsessed with space. Another fictive maybe? I’m not really sure. It’s been a long time and they didn’t make it past our teen years.

“We really are just a small system, aren’t we? Is it still just the three of us? I want to know.” Steven didn’t mind if it was. What he did mind was the thought that maybe there was someone else inside that was in pain and he wasn’t helping them. Someone hiding or unaware that was just as lost as he had been.

As far as I’m aware… It’s just us three. I check now and then.

“Were they your friends? Do you miss them?” Steven couldn’t imagine having other head mates that just disappeared. The thought scared him suddenly. It was possible to lose purpose and fade away. What if Marc really did leave one day? What if Jake left? Would he ever no longer be needed and go like the others?

The space guy was kinda cool. Jake smiled and Steven could feel a wave of sadness come off of Jake. They were not as well defined or developed as us. We got along and functioned as well as we could. I think maybe if things become as bad as they were, there is always the possibility for others to show up.

“But as long as we can hold down the fort it will be just us three.” Steven sighed. “I want to know these things, Jake. I want to know our life. I want to know how we lived and what hurts. I want to be able to know why I’m sad and how not to make Marc spiral. I want to know how to help you.”

I don’t need help. I need cooperation. We have to find our flow again. I can’t protect us if we’re all freaking out!

“Welcome to denial, Jake.” Steven laughed softly. “You aren’t immune to pain and hurt. We’ve all got trauma and some form of PTSD. I think you’ve been ignoring your own pain for too long.”

Jake made a grumbling sound but he better than to argue this with Steven.

They sat in silence for a moment then they felt a nudge.

It felt strange and Steven felt himself shift as if he were floating outside the body. Marc had entered the room and things had gotten so bad that their communication suddenly felt like they were yelling across a vast field against the wind.

Steven gripped the sleeves of his sweater and brought them to his face, covering his mouth with the soft fabric. He could smell their aftershave and a hint of Layla’s shampoo. There was a faint smell of their morning coffee and toast. He felt the light fabric, soft and warm brushing his cheeks and lips.

It was comforting and brought him back down.

They sat still, all three holding on. After numerous tries, Steven at last shook his head and stood up.

“Sorry mates. It was worth a try, right? Maybe three is a bit much right now. I’m going to head back. Can I talk to Marc?” Steven waited patiently while Jake faded back and the field between them all disappeared.

He could feel Marc shifting behind him. It felt like so long ago when speaking only happened through visual effort and control was fought for. He missed the moment of fluid switching when they were so close that they could share thoughts and motions.

Now, a wedge sat between them and there was frustration, hurt, and confusion.

Steven continued on his walk through the park. He looked at the sun burnt grass, the reaching flowers, the bees on missions, and the children that ran without care.

He paused to watch a game of cricket, lamenting on how Marc and Jake didn’t understand the sport at all. Not that he understood baseball. Not that any of them had tried to understand the other…

“We’re really shit at this.” He laughed.

I’m glad you find it all so funny. Marc muttered.

“Laugh or cry, Marc.” Steven smiled. “I’m tired of crying today.”

Did you cry today?

“One of us did.” Steven was starting to accept that perhaps he was the emotional medium between them all, if that was even a thing to be. He could feel their overflow of sadness, anger, and often brutal self hatred. He now understood them to be not his own, but it still affected him.

Sorry. Marc apologized, though Steven wasn’t so sure it was Marc who had been the one to start the tears. He was always taking the blame. Always ready to assume the worst of himself.

Steven shook his head. “I know what day it is. It’s okay to shed a few tears.”

Marc nodded, his lips pulled thin. Was he ready? Would he ever be ready?

“Do you think Randall would have liked London?” He continued on, leaving behind the cricket match.

I don’t know. Maybe.

“I think he would have liked the museum.” Steven couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to bring a brother to the museum. Pointing at the pictures and picking what they liked best about them. Would he have liked Egyptology? Maybe he would have been more into natural science and collected rocks.

I think he liked anything he was given. He was just a kid. I don’t know what he would have liked now. Marc sounded a bit short tempered. It was hard for him to imagine who Randall would have been.

“Did you like things?” Steven changed directions quickly. “When you were little, I mean. What things did you obsess over?”

They stopped walking and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds.

I don’t know. I don’t remember.

Steven thought back to their bedroom. The one in his memories and the one he saw in Marc’s memories from the afterlife.

“Did you like cars? Space? Egypt?”

No. Jake likes cars. You like Egypt. I think we got a telescope at some point but I don’t remember ever using it.

A warning flashed across his mind, some sort of signal from Jake to stop pressing on their childhood.

So he was still watching.

“Yeah. I don’t remember much from our childhood either. Guess it wasn’t that important, huh?” Steven turned up the path and settled into a comfortable stroll back towards the entrance to the park. “Do you hate Dad?”

They stopped walking and Steven felt his legs stiffen on their own. He wasn’t sure if it was Jake or Marc.

He stubbornly pushed on. “You were angry I talked to him. I don’t understand why. I have so few memories of him and I don’t know how he fits into my life. Am I not supposed to figure that out?”

I think the general consensus was that we were going to cut out all the toxic bits from our life. He was a part of that.

“How was he toxic? Was he cruel to you? Did he hurt you?” Steven didn’t mean it at all as a sort of prod. Wide eyed and hands at his chest as he pulled on his sweater, it was an innocent question. He legitimately didn’t understand.

Compliance in the face of cruelty is still cruelty.

Steven jumped as Jake’s voice cut across the space between them.

Marc’s voice was a little quieter but still there. He’s right, Steven. He let it happen. He was very much a part of our abuse.

Steven walked on slowly, hands gripping the fabric tightly as he struggled with this.

“I don’t think he understands.” He thought about the few conversations he had had with the man on the phone lately. How surprised he had been at first and then how easily he had slipped into a normal conversation of ‘how are you’ and ‘how is the wife’ and further ‘you should visit.’

He doesn’t have to understand. Marc huffed.

“But how will he know that he hurt us if we don’t tell him? What if he’s sorry?” A memory flashed across their minds of the old man in the window, beconning for them to come inside. To return home. Of the younger man pleading with him not to leave.

It is not our place to tell him that he has caused us pain. It is his place to know and recognize that he should have done better as the father. He has every right to ask for forgiveness and we have every right not to accept it.

Steven stopped again and felt himself drift ever so slightly. It was a lesson he had heard before. A teaching that he had never understood at the time. He was so gentle and soft, he had not understood what it meant to not forgive someone asking for it. He never wanted to hurt anyone. To cause conflict or pain. He wanted to be the peacemaker. To be loving and make people happy.

Memories started to flow. Ones that never made sense before. Memories of an empty chair across from him at the table. Memories of his father sitting silently at the head of the table. Always silent and looking down. Memories of sad eyes watching him and turning away.

When he thought of his father, he never could picture his father addressing him. Never recalled any conversations or praise or interaction. That was why he had become a hidden part of Steven’s life. Overshadowed by the mother that he thought and wished he had. Her attention had been on him. Her eyes always fixed on him. Her everything enveloping him while his father had given him nothing.

Steven?

Marc gently reached out and Steven pulled back, physically taking a step back.

Today was the day that he had become they. Today was the day that they had become a second thought and a third and then on and on until a mind shattered and now all the pieces were trying so hard to come back together but there were pieces missing. Pieces that would never be there again. Pieces that were too broken to fit.

Steven, give me the body, okay?

Steven shook his head and sat down there in the grass and dirt. He turned his face to the sky and felt the sun, colder now as it faded behind the clouds.

Jake. Don’t… Don’t force it. Okay? Make it gentle.

I have an idea.

Marc sounded tired and far away and Steven was distantly aware of his hand moving into his pocket to fetch his phone. A few buttons hit by feel and memory alone.

The phone was a comfortable and warm pressure at his ear and against his cheek.

Steven smiled as the phone rang. He searched the memories. Had it always been voicemail? Could he remember her voice? What would he say to her now?

He would say a lot. He had so much to say.

He heard the click of someone picking up. Or perhaps the machine.

He could pretend. He could imagine just like always. It was no different than when he had thought she was alive and she had been dead all that time. Talking to ghosts. Celebrating ghosts… Everything in his past was a ghost.

“Hey Mum.” Steven took a slow breath. “I’m glad you’re dead. I am. I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you were alive and had everything that I have now. Everything you gave to me.”

There was a sound on the other end of the line but it was too far away for him to know it. He took a shaky breath and continued.

“You gave me so much, didn’t you? More than pretend postcards. I wonder if you knew that you birthed another son when you picked up that belt. You lost one and gained another. Was it a fair trade? Was I enough like him?”

He breathed softly, listening to the machine record. It was silent but he could hear breathing. Was it her listening?

“I think I tried to make up for it, didn’t I? In a way. Marc felt so bad about how we lost Roro that he tried to give him back, didn’t he? But I wasn’t right. Did you notice? Did you notice me at all? Did you notice Jake? We tried, didn’t we? I wanted your love so much and what did Jake want?”

He dug his free hand into his sweater at his chest and twisted tightly.

“I realize now that I never asked about Dad. In all our conversations, I never once asked for him. He didn’t care for me. Even now, he calls us Marc and I realize I’m still masking. Without trying, I wear the mask around him. He wouldn’t give me the time of day. Now here I am reaching out and all he can see is Marc. And it isn’t even Marc he sees. He sees who he wanted Marc to be!”

Steven closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, listening. “Jake took over when it was too much. Did you beat him too? Did you make Jake listen to you as you made him nothing? As you told him not to exist? Is that why Jake doesn’t want to exist now? Because you hurt him so much? Did Dad ignore him too? Or did Dad talk to Jake? Jake was more of the son I couldn’t be. Did Dad tell him to be a better son? Did Jake ask Dad for help? Is that why Jake hates him?”

He could hear the breathing on the other end, quiet and trembling slightly with emotion.

“I hate you for how much you broke us. I hate you every time I wake up from a nightmare. I hate you for every tear I’ve had to shed without knowing why. I hate you for the doubt and self destruction you embedded into our heart! Every time Marc drinks and every time Jake sits in his car trying not to have a panic attack! I hate you for every moment I was alone and didn’t understand why! I’m glad you’re gone. I don’t know what I would do if I had to know you were there hurting us by refusing to love us! All I wanted was a mother and all you gave us was this broken house!”

Steven wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. “Today is Roro’s birthday. Somewhere in another timeline I like to think that he’s still alive and I don’t have to exist. He’s celebrating with his big brother and a loving mother and father. But those people don’t exist here. There never was a loving mother and proud father. Roro is dead and so is that happy big brother. He died and now it’s just these ghosts inhabiting this body. We aren’t who we are supposed to be because of you.”

He took a slow breath and looked at the sky, gray and filled with colors as the sun started to set. They were pretty. In the past, he would have glowed about it to his mum. Told her about the gorgeous sunset and amazing weather. Now he could only focus on the clouds.

“I got your death certificate in the mail. Dad sent it to me.” He took a moment to swallow back the tightness at the back of his throat. “Long term alcoholism. Destroyed your liver. You must have been sick a long time. Dad must have known. We don’t let Marc drink anymore. It’s hard. We also made Jake stop smoking. I won’t let them destroy us the way you did. You took everything. You even took away our chance to tell you how much you didn’t deserve us. So I’ll say it now. You didn’t deserve us. We were too good for you. We deserved better. And we still do.”

Steven choked back a small sound and wiped his nose. “Bye Mum.”

He hung up and slowly put the phone down.

The world was silent for a moment, and he floated over it. He floated in a space where he was happy and unaware. He lived in the light and acted as a beacon of happiness. He had to. There was too much darkness in their lives and someone had to help guide them out.

He felt gentle hands wrap around him and strong arms pull him close. It was imaginary, deep inside where touch was odd and sometimes communication didn’t work. Yet still he sank into it as Marc and Jake wrapped around him like his favorite sweater.

Distantly he heard the phone buzz and sing a jaunty tune. A hand picked it up and he wasn’t sure who it belonged to.

“Hello?” No one was certain who was speaking. All three of them felt the body a if they were controlling a puppet on strings. Real but not where they were. They existed in a far away place where nothing could hurt them.

“Baby?” Layla’s voice reached out. Even she didn’t know who she was talking to. She couldn't find their accent.

Steven smiled at the cleverness that was Jake. Jake, unsure if they were in danger or not and knowing that they needed her, had called Layla. Always her.

They struggled to reach through time and space, all three happy to hear her and all three unsure where they were in the head and body and world. “Hey. We’re… We’re okay. Still at the park, I think. We didn’t go far. There’s… Families and kids.”

“Do you want me to come get you? Are you okay?” She was crying. They could hear her crying. Was she crying because she was scared? Had they hurt her again?

No. She was crying for them. Because she at last understood where their pain came from. Where it started and lingered across their lives like an unending storm.

They looked around. “Could you meet us at the exit? The one at the corner. We can get there.”

“Of course, Baby. Do you want me to stay on the phone?” She sounded worried.

“No.” They thought about it for a moment. “No. I… We want to be us for a moment. See you soon.”

“Okay. I love you. Call if you have any trouble, okay? I’ll wait for you.”

“We love you too.” They hung up and stared at the phone for a moment. It was odd. Before, in the rain and storm inside, they had all wanted different things and fought. Now it was different. They all wanted the same thing and moved without argument or asking.

Standing up, they brushed the dirt and grass from their pants then moved carefully as if expecting the body to not function right. Taking a step, they expected it to be like walking across the moon. Yet gravity and the world was still there. The body moved and they blended in a way they had never felt before.

It was odd. Both unsetting and comforting. They deeply disliked the loss of autonomy but there was a greater sense of comfort in knowing they had support. They were functioning as a team.

They made it to the end of the park and stared at the people around them. People that moved and functioned every day as single units with one purpose and thought. None of it seemed real. How one body and mind could house so many and endless worlds and realities.

One of those people smiled to them and hugged them close. “Layla.” They sank into her, hugging her, though they could only feel it from a distance. “Sorry. We aren’t sure who…Who is where.”

“Do you need help? I’m not sure how I can help…” She looked them over as if maybe she could find a button or something that might separate them out again.

They shook their head. “It will sort itself out. We’re just going to be for now. If that’s okay… We just want to exist right now.”

She slipped her hand into theirs and held it tightly, anchoring them to her as they walked back towards their flat. “Exist. You deserve to exist as much as the rest of us.”

They smiled and held her hand. It was nice to exist together.

Part Nine (last one) HERE

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Layla El Faouly #I seem to have a magic number for how many chapters belong in a fic #There's a good chance there's just one chapter left you guys #It's hard to realize that you've been hurt #harder still when that person is gone #I wish we had the diab cut #we deserve to see it

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