#tw: past sa

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Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Fifty-Six

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd. I know nothing about real police procedure, don't look at me, I've made it up. Just the Epilogue to go!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

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tags: @faceless-mirror @missduffsblog @tamtam-elizabeth @witchyweeb34 @tearfallpixie

@wild-child-7747 @shilohrosechicken @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @miamore0570 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny @spicywhenspeaking @dontdiganothergravetoday @chick-from-nz @latenightmusiclover

@anameunmusical

After all of that, the detectives left him in the interrogation room for hours. Room? Box. It wasn’t a room, there was no way that it could be called an interrogation room, it was nothing but a sweat box. He should know too, considering how long he’d spent days on end living inside a tour bus, a tour bus that could also easily be turned into a sweat box in during the long summer days of the tour days. Especially back when the buses were barely more than that, nothing more than that, a sweat box. 

Ricky was left sitting, no, sweating it out in that interrogation room, coming up to three hours when one of the detectives finally came back in to let him know he was free to go, for now at least. He had a feeling that this wasn’t something they were happy about doing, which was ridiculous, it wasn’t as if they could have any kind of proof he was involved in this, he wasn’t! Yes, he knew his claim about the trauma soul bond would probably seem ridiculous to many, but that didn’t mean he was trying to kill Talia, and assuming that was just offensive to him.

He should have called them on their bullshit, he knew he should have, as he looked at the detectives, why did he realise that now?! Fuck, his brain was just done from the hospital, and all he could think about was getting back to his soulmates. 

As he was walking down the hall from the offices that the interrogation had been in, Ricky’s eyes widened when he saw her being led down the hall towards him by another officer. Grace. Shit. She was the last person he wanted to see right now, of all people in the world he could run into, all he wanted was to be back at the hospital. To see if Talia was doing any better, to see if Chris was okay. They’d have called if anything had changed while he was gone, right?

Either way, Grace just wasn’t worth the aggravation. She wasn’t worth the stress or the brain power. Keep walking and ignore her. 

As he kept going, it was then, as he pushed the mental fortitude to just keep going, push past as he walked and ignore her, that was when she noticed him. Ricky assumed until that point she possibly had been too frustrated by the fact she was here at all, being escorted by the police officer behind her, or so he assumed, but then, oh then it went out the window. She saw him, and just like that, chaos. It was always chaos with her now, but he’d have loved to avoid it, not that he could block her like with the death threats online last time. This time… it was the screech that came right for him.

“You! Richard Olson! I can’t believe it, why was she driving your car?! You never let me drive your car! You were the one supposed to be driving your car! How dare you, how dare you, how dare-”

Even as Grace was practically being dragged away, she was still screaming at the top of her lungs. The beat cop that had brought her in was attempting to lead her away forcefully, while the detectives who had brought him in had come out to investigate the source of the commotion. No doubt Grace had been brought in for questioning on their case, so it was something to note, made him wonder if they had not waited until the very moment she was being escorted in to let him go. What were they going to do if she’d attacked him, what were they going to do if she’d tried to kill him, right there in the middle of the station? She had just admitted to attempting to kill Talia thinking it was him, who knows what could have happened, and they weren’t even out here when it happened. 

“Are you kidding me?!”

Ricky looked at the detectives when they said that obviously she was going to be charged with Talia’s attempted murder, as if it was so simple. Not even an apology for suspecting and accusing him as they had.

“If you could come back with us to give a statement-”

“Not today.”

He was putting his foot down. After three hours of being shirked around, he’d had enough.

“You just had me sitting in that room for three hours straight, I am, frankly, tired, sweltering hot, starving, and all I want to do is get back to the hospital… where I would have liked to have been this entire time.”

Glaring at them. Instead, they’d kept him here, looking back, he felt like an idiot because he should have demanded they charged him or let him go, but he hadn’t, he’d been so worried about the Grace issue, he let it go. There was also the other problem, he didn’t want anyone to dig into Chris, find out about his other soulmate, it could be a disaster, so he let them walk all over him, and he shouldn’t have, idiot.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give a statement.”

Pulling out his wallet, he flipped it open and pulled out one of his person business cards and handed it over. 

“You can contact me at a later date, and we can arrange it through official channels, no just showing up at the hospital this time. My family is going through a very stressful time, as you can imagine.”

Ignoring anything else they might have had to say to him, he just left, he was done with them. Assholes.

Ricky was worn out, he was so worn thin by the time he had driven himself back to the hospital. As it was, he was practically half on autopilot all the way back during the drive. Yes, he knew how dangerous that was, especially considering the cause of what had Talia laying in that bed right now, but his head was back in that police station. Grace had been trying to kill him, and instead Talia was fighting for her life. If she died, if, if Chris lost another soulmate… Grace she… Continuing, before he knew it, he was on his way into the hospital, riding the elevator, up to the floor where he knew Chris, Vinny, and Ava were waiting for him. 

When he did get to Talia’s hospital room though she had her own private room, they had made sure of that, especially when they realised Grace was involved, Vinny and Ava were nowhere to be found. It was Chris, just Chris, sitting there by Talia’s bed, holding her hand, a book open in the other, the sound of his voice pausing softly as Ricky approached the doorway. He’d been reading to her. Ricky smiled a little, only for the expression to fade after a moment when he looked at Chris, thinking about everything that had happened, seeing the instant smile on his face when he saw him. Of course, Chris seeing the way Ricky’s face fell, just caused the singer’s expression to just drop, instantly.

“What, what happened?”

Chris had enough of Ava and Vinny after a while, he knew that they were just trying to be supportive and positive. It got to be a bit much when he was worried about not only Talia in a coma and Ricky at the police station. Grace was trying to destroy his soulmate bonds from both sides. They should have done something before now, they should have, but she’d disappeared into thin air. He should have hired an investigator to find her, to figure out what she was up to after that live when she disappeared. After everything that happened with his stalker, he knew better than to assume she would leave Ricky alone, he knew. Five years, five years she’d stuck to him like glue, why would she let go now?. Now, now Talia was barely holding on, and Ricky, looking down at his phone, why hadn’t he called, it had been hours.

Sighing, he had sent Vinny and Ava home almost an hour ago, told them he was just going to nap, and he had, for about half an hour. However, for the last twenty minutes or so since he’d woken up, he had been reading Alice in Wonderland to Talia. It had been something he’d had Ava bring up a few days ago. He remembered Talia telling him how much she loved it during one of their coffee sessions, only for now Ricky to finally return. Smiling at the sight of him, so happy to see him, feeling an instant warmth that they had at long last let him go. The problem was, the moment Chris saw Ricky in the doorway, he knew something wasn’t right with him.

“What, what happened?”

Closing the book, he immediately set it aside on the bedside table, he knew something had to have happened. It wasn’t if something had, it was had. Hours, they had kept him for hours, and that despondent look on his face, he knew it was something. Chris’ arms opened to him as Ricky half stumbled into them, sitting in the chair beside him, almost falling against his side, his face pressing against his shoulder, muffled words against his shirt.

“I don’t want to talk about it.

“Rick-”

He knew, it wouldn’t be good not to talk about it, no matter how badly it went, and it might be raw now, but this was the police. Chris was terrified what might come of this. He remembered how it had been when he’d gone through it all, and he’d admit, when he’d been in the same place Ricky was now, he’d had the same reaction, never wanting to talk… It had not taken him down a good path. Sighing, he didn’t know if he should push, or just wait, his arms squeezing around him.

“Chris, I, I know, but it’s my fault, and I can’t, okay, I know you think I should talk about it, but it’s my fault. All of this is my fault, and nothing that I’m going to do or say is going to make this all right.”

Oh, wow, wait one second there, Chris brain came to a screeching halt when it came to thinking about how to deal with helping Ricky deal with his stalker issue… He tried to pull back to get a look at him some, only for Ricky’s arms to tighten his grip around him with a sob.

“Rick, Ricky, Cupcake, fuck, this is not your fault. Grace is absolutely psycho. What did they say to you? I told you not to let them make you feel crazy, that includes letting them make you believe that the blame was on you babe, dammit, this was not your fault-”

That was when Ricky pulled back, Chris saw the tears in his eyes now, not just hearing them in his words.

“She thought it was me in the car, Chris. She was trying to kill me, not Talia. She wouldn’t be in that bed fighting for her life if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be worried about losing a second soulmate if it weren’t for me. Dammit Chris. This is on me. You're right, she is psycho, she stalked me, she manipulated me, she- she-”

Ricky choked before he could finish… and found himself sobbing into Chris' shoulder again. He was no better when it came to the last part, knowing what he had done to Talia, between their tattoos, and coercion. It was all so grey, but he felt like a monster some days. He was trying so hard to be better, and she said she forgave him, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself… but Grace… the law was so muddled about sexual predators and faux soulmate crimes. Many wanted them to be labelled as rapists, whether it was consensual or not because one party had had no clue of the truth. Others, however, said it was no different from a normal relationship and a person lying to their partner, Ricky did not agree. Considering the bond that had formed from his trauma, how Chris’ tattoo had literally changed, Ricky far from agreed, what Grace had done to him, it went far beyond just lying to your partner. She ripped at his very soul.

Some states called it rape, some assault, some called it nothing at all. Theirs, however, had a statute of limitations on faux soulmate related sexual assault and Ricky hadn’t figured Grace out in time. In turn, it had left him feeling like the disaster he was now. 

Chris just held Ricky like that, in his arms, resolved to comfort him as best he could, refusing to let him give in. He would be there for him as long as he needed him to be. No matter what happened to Talia. This was not his fault, no matter what he though, no matter what anyone might have said to him, Chris refused to let him believe it. 

It was when he heard a groan from the hospital bed that he was looking over to the hospital bed,

“Talia?”

The next thing he knew, a soft, groggy murmur came from the small woman in the bed.

“Put the bunny back in the top hat, get back in the top hat, Mister Bunny, come back!”

Even Rick, who had been sobbing a moment before, couldn’t help but chuckling at her babbling as she started to slowly regain consciousness.

“I told you that magic white rabbit tattoo on her hip had to have more of a story behind it than Alice in Wonderland.”

Chris didn’t care, he was laughing with Ricky, watching him wipe the tears from his eyes as he had said it, looking between his two soulmates, he was just overjoyed that Talia was waking up, 

“Welcome back, JellyBean.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

TW: Implied mentions of Canonical Past SA, including (wrongful) assumption of CSA and incest!

There weren’t many things Julia Ortega wasn’t prepared to see each time she came home to her apartment, but a cuffed Sidestep laying on her bed was certainly one of them.

Years worth of instinct take over in the space it takes Ortega to blink. The bags drop to the floor, the groceries they’d contained spilling out beneath her feet. Lightning arcs between her fingertips, her generator pulsing to levels beyond its means as her eyes scan the room as quickly as they dare. Ambush, because what else could it be? The fact that Cyrus didn’t call out—the fact that he is here in the first place—is nothing more than an oddity to be followed up on later. They are under attack, her apartment has been targeted again, and if they’ve already overpowered Cyrus…

“It’s safe.” Cyrus’s voice is like engine coolant being poured over her racing heart, snuffing out her battle-focus as quickly as it had descended upon her. The lighting fizzles out, the roar of her generator slowly fading away back into imperceptibility. “You can put the sparkles down.”

Ortega’s shoulders loosen, before her mind steers back towards the bemusing situation and tense up again. Her brow twists into a frown as she looks down at the shape of her lover and longtime friend, splayed out on the bed in front of her, his hands cuffed to the headboard. In certain contexts, such a situation could be taken as alluring, but… well, this was too weird to be some abrupt booty call. Especially considering what he’s said last time, even with the clothes on.

Thank you for showing me this doesn’t have to be horrible.

A shiver runs through her. She still didn’t like thinking about the implication. “Cyrus… what is…?”

“There’s a key on the bedside table. By the lamp,��� Cyrus says, so quietly and tonelessly Ortega instantly knew there was something wrong. Still, she knows a no-nonsense command when she hears one, so she obediently moves to the bedside table and picks up the key. When she moves to unlock Cyrus’ left wrist, though, all he does is shake his head. “Not so fast.”

Ortega draws back, frowning deeper. “Oh?”

“I need you to listen to me, Julia.” Julia. So it’s serious, then. “I’m giving you a choice here.”

Ortega stays silent, wordlessly urging him to go on. She knew better than to interrupt when he got like this.

“Right now, I’m not wearing anything under the blanket.” An exciting thought, if she’d heard it in any other time, but not now, for reasons she couldn’t describe. “Your first option is to unlock the cuffs, leave the room, and wait outside for me to get dressed. After that, we’ll pretend this never happened. Or…”

Ortega’s raised an eyebrow. She didn’t like the sound of this. “Or…?”

Cyrus takes a deep, shuddering breath, his unaffected mask for once cracking. “Or you can pull back the blanket and see for yourself what’s underneath.”

What? Ortega looks aghast. “Cyrus…”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he snaps, taking a steadying breath and continuing before she can do it again. “Every answer you’ve ever wanted from me is written on my skin. Every one. You could peel the blanket back, read what they say, and never have to wonder anything about me again. Okay? I want you to understand that.”

Ortega doubted that somehow. For one thing, she didn’t think there was enough marker space on Cyrus’ short, skinny frame to write down the answer to one of her questions, never mind all of them. And maybe that was a horrible thought, but she was a pretty horrible person all things considered, so it probably balanced out. And horrible she may be… but not horrible enough to consider this, not for one second.

Unless…

Ortega stares down own at Cyrus, licking her lips nervously. She had to pick her words with care, not putting pressure one way or another, because Cyrus had complained often enough about her pressuring him after he came back even in the best of times, and she refused to do that now, not when he looked so… fragile. “Are you… asking me to pull the blanket back?”

If there was even an inkling of hope in her voice, Ortega made sure to crush it. And then, to zap the puddling remains, just for good measure.

There’s a pause. Cyrus meets her gaze steadily. “No.”

Ortega swallows. Her voice is even more careful with the next question. “Do you want me to pull the blanket back?”

A shudder. Slight, but it’s there. “No.”

“Then I won’t,” Ortega says simply, viciously purging any and all hints of disappointment from her voice. She could get her answers another time, preferably when Cyrus willingly offered them to her. There was no hurry. He wasn’t going anywhere, after all—it’s not like he was going to die a second time. The universe wasn’t that cruel.

Right?

Cyrus takes another shuddering breath and says nothing, his eyes not leaving Ortega’s. Ortega feels awkward, naked under his intense gaze. Is he waiting for her to change her mind? To peel back the blanket, no matter what he wants?

Ortega wouldn’t do that. Ortega would die before doing that. He should know that. He used to.

Was it he who changed… or her? The thought is sobering. Maybe she should back off Cyrus for a little while. Give him some space. Just a little bit. Just enough for him not to ever think she valued her answers more than she valued him again.

She doesn’t do that, because she’s Julia Ortega. Instead, she walks back over to Cyrus—he stiffens—before slowly unlocking the handcuffs, making sure not to disturb the blanket enough to catch even a hint of bare wrist. It was more than a little silly, maybe, but… well, it was Cyrus. Cyrus deserved a little heartfelt silliness every now and then. That had been true from the beginning.

“Idiot,” he mutters fondly as she unlocks his last hand, rubbing it beneath the blanket.

“Only for you,” she grins, which is true also, even if he doesn’t know it.

He’s still looking at her, so Ortega backs away again, walking over to the light switch. “Can I?”

“Free country,” he shrugs, though she can tell she’s touched. “And it’s your apartment.”

The lights flick off a moment later, bathing the room in darkness. Ortega’s clothes drops to the floor one after another, leaving her in just her underwear as she crawls into bed with Cyrus and slowly wraps her arms around him, feeling him wordlessly nestle into her in turn. Despite what he’d claimed, his skin isn’t bare at all. She can feel the soft texture of some kind of thin, full-body fabric under her fingers. Which means he’d lied.

“This is nice,” she says, deciding not to bring it up:

“Mmmh.” He doesn’t acknowledge it either.

“Why the handcuffs?” She tries to make it sound like a joke. “Not that I’m complaining, but it seems like a bit of a jump.”

She chuckles when Cyrus drives his elbow into her stomach. “Ow.

“It wasn’t about that, old woman,” Cyrus mutters, rolling around and closing his eyes, his back to her. His voice is flat, unconcernedly drowsy… but it sounds fake, like he’s deliberately trying to make it sound that way.

“What was it about, then?” she asks, unable to stop herself. She feels like she’s being tested… and like she’s failing, somehow. Or passing. It’s hard to tell.

“You deserve to know,” he mutters. Somehow, she doesn’t think he’s telling the truth. “Even if I can’t tell you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it was about giving you the option.” A try at a laugh. “You know, so you’d shut up about me never sharing anything.”

“You’re lying.” She’s careful not to frame it like the accusation it is. “That doesn’t explain the handcuffs.”

Nor the whole… theatricality of writing information down on your skin, but she’s not about to voice that out loud.

“I’m used to being restrained.”

Ortega… wants to dig into that. She does. But she also recognizes it as the deflection it is. It’s a familiar Sidestepism, turning away a line of inquiry by offering another one until she got tired or backed off out of shame.

Dodging, in other words. It’s what he did best. In more ways than one.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Maybe you should stop asking then.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, Cyrus.” She reaches for his hand.

It’s yanked away. “Then don’t.”

“That’s not fair. This feels like…” she trails off, ice cold water settling into her stomach. No. No way. Not with her. Right?

Cyrus chuckles bitterly. “A test? And what if it was?”

“Cariño,” she pleads, resisting the urge to reach out again, to turn him around, to make him look into her eyes as she promised him he would never… how could he even think…? The pet name is new, pulled out of her by sheer shock. “Mi amor. Mi cielo.”

“It wasn’t personal,” he mutters quietly. “I just… needed to know.”

“I…” Thank you for showing me this doesn’t have to be horrible. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cyrus. If I ever made you feel like…”

“You didn’t,” he interrupts, more forcefully this time. “This wasn’t because of anything you did. I just needed to make sure.”

Needed to make sure if she’d ignore his no. If she’d pull the blanket back. If she’d… if she’d go further.

Ortega’s mouth is dry. “Cyrus… I…”

“Don’t.” She still can’t see his face. “Don’t make a thing of it. It’s done. I know what I needed to know.”

“And what was that?” Ortega asks, even though she already knows.

“That if I was ever helpless around you, you wouldn’t…” he trails off with a frustrated sigh. “You know. Take advantage of it.”

Take advantage of it.

Thank you for showing me this doesn’t have to be horrible.

Someone had betrayed him, the first time. Someone close enough for it to scar him. A lover. Or a friend. Or maybe even a…

Ortega stops, vile crawling up her throat.

Hollow Ground.

Of course.

How could she not have seen it earlier? Who else could it have been if not him?

She tightens her grasp of Cyrus, feeling her thoughts run a mile a minute. It made so much sense. Why he’d been so hesitant to share his past with her in the early days. Why even the mention of it made him shiver. And, horribly, why his criminal older brother would pluck him from an ambulance after Heartbreak. He’d wanted his toy back.

And Ortega had just let him take it. Take him. Take Cyrus. She…

Cyrus’ drowsy murmur snapped her out of her train of thought. “You okay?”

I should be asking you that question, Ortega thinks but doesn’t say. “Never better,” she says instead, plastering a smile onto her face for fear Cyrus will hear the agitation in her tone if she doesn’t. It was was always easier to be convincing with a smile on her face, even if the other person couldn’t see it. “Just worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” She clutched him even tighter. “That’s good.”

Hundreds of innocents, Hood… and now Sidestep.

Hollow Ground was going down.

[fcthots]

Can I request 27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?" with an angsty dash of 5. "You don't have anything to be sorry for." please?

You shouldn't have been out.

You should have never left your apartment, especially not in the middle of the night, especially when Jason didn't know you left, but you just wanted to go on a short walk, but one wrong turn turned your short walk into a very long one.

You could hear a few things: the beating of your heart, the sound of your feet hitting the ground as you ran, the sound of their feet running after you, shouting from behind you.

"Get your ass back here or I swear to God, we're gonna fucking kill you!"

Fuck. You just had to go on a walk to clear your head. You just had to get lost. You just had to forget your phone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were running so hard you could barely breathe. You were faster than them, but not by much, and you couldn't keep it up. You were terrified, shaking, slightly crying. You tried screaming, but no one came. You were lost, alone, scared, and being chased. You wished more than anything that you never left your apartment. You wished you just called Jason to calm down, but you didn’t want to bother him. Regret. Regret. Regret.

You've basically run in one big circle, trying to get anywhere near your apartment, but you were so lost. That street sign, though was familiar, but more than that you had passed it before; something else.

Oh.

Oh no.

You knew the name on that street sign because Jason was telling you about it earlier

...in reference to a trafficking case.

Your heart sank. Their footfalls match the erratic beating of your heart. You were tired. You couldn't keep this up forever and they knew the territory. It seemed you were at every disadvantage.

You turned a corner. You had this one chance to lose them. You use all of your remaining energy to run into the gap between the closed down corner store and apartment complex,

and promptly trip on the uneven concrete. Yeah, you pulled something.

And with your absolutely stellar luck, you picked the one alley that was a dead end.

"Fucking finally. Nowhere to run now. I think we should take our time with this one. She made us waste all that time chasing her, what's a little more?"

You open your mouth to beg for your life, but the words won't come out. You try to get up but you collapse again. You use your good leg to move yourself against the wall.

The three men laugh as they slowly approach you, taunting you. They smile and joke at the tears you didn’t notice were falling. You try to think of any possible escape route, but come up empty. One pulls out a gun and you try not to look at it.

"You really thought you could just run away, huh?"

"You can scream as loud as you want. No one is coming."

The third man laughs. "Don't say that. The screaming is fucking annoying."

They get closer to you and you feel the sweat trickle from your hairline.

Everyone's heads turn when there's a loud thud outside the alley.

You aren't exactly focused on it, but it makes them temporarily stop, so you're thankful for it.

"Marcus, go check it out."

"Fuck you. Why do I have to it?"

"Be louder, why don’t you? Quit being a bitch and go."

'Marcus' leaves with a string of curses. The attention is turned back to you again, with impatient smiles and twisted laughter, but not for long.

They make it about two more steps before Marcus yells and there's a crunch and thud.

The two men stop dead in their tracks. Communicating as if with eye contact, one nods, and the other begins to walk slowly along the wall of the alley with his gun raised until he turns the corner. While the first man tries to split his attention between you and his friend, his friend screams.

The last man turns towards you. He rushes forward in an attempt to grab your arm, presumably to drag you, but he never gets that chance.

There is a loud thunk to the back of the man's head before he's on the floor. You look up and see a red helmet.

You don’t think you've ever been happier to see that shiny red.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. You're safe now."

You try to say his name as he rushes over to you but it comes out as more of a pathetic and terrified whimper.

"Are you hurt?"

You nod your head and watch him freeze.

"Where?"

You drag your leg out from underneath you. He sighs in relief. His shoulders hunch forward, his forehead knocking against yours. He lands a helmet kiss there.

"C'mon. Let's get you home. I'm going to carry you, okay?"

Before you could even think about attempting to reply, he has you scooped up in his arms. He takes a deep breath in and out and locks eyes with you.

"You ok?"

"no fatal injuries"

He hums in acknowledgement. The walk is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t remember most of the walk. The adrenaline wearing off was making you tired, but Jason's silence concerned you. You shouldn't have gone out alone, it was dumb, but you couldn't handle a fight with Jason right now. That's probably why he was being quiet, he’s mad at you, but knows you don’t wanna fight. He was being so sweet, but to be honest all you wanted was comfort. You can't take him being distant right now.

Fuck it. You can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry."

He stops on the outside of you apartment complex's elevator, moving to look at you.

You open your mouth to speak again but he cuts you off. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Aren't you mad?"

"I could never be mad at you."

"But you're being all silent."

"I thought you'd want space. Do you not?"

"...no... I want comfort..."

"Alright. And I'm not mad at you. Never mad at you. That wasn't your fault, ok? I was brooding just now because I was scared at the thought of losing you. I love you. So much."

"I love you too."

[sweatandwoe]

After reading some Astarion takes, I can say with full certainty, that I would not trust some of you to not slutshame or insult SA victims for having sex

[lesbians4armand]

i think iwtv should have the daemon targaryen horror nightmares of his lovers but with lestat and louis having to see arun and amadeo. not armand, but arun as he was - young, hurt, doomed, already forgetting all that he knows. amadeo as he was, bruised, bloody and scarred, covered with paint and alcohol and other men’s blood and semen, and the waters of venice. have them Know. have them Realise why armand will always be the way he is

[walpu]

People on tiktok are discussing the possibility of Aven beings SAed and someone said this 💀

Not only this is like. Extremely stupid AND contradicts the lore since by that time Aven's master was already dead (killed by Aven himself mind you) but it's also so disrespectful to his character like the whole point is that he climbed the ranks because he's smart and dedicated and lucky. We literally saw Jade addressing it and taking him under her wing. Like WHAT does that comment even imply??? That his master promoted him, that DIAMOND abused him like what are you people on

[sleeplessv0id]

I don't believe in God. anymore

but I hope he loved me. at least once.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Secrets in the Rain

Summary: Under the boughs of the great tree at Windrise, you and Kaeya share secrets

Word Count: 1201

CW/TW: Mentioned/referenced Sexual assault, hurt/comfort, use of “lady love” as a term of endearment

Kaeya x Fem!reader

A/N: It took a couple years and a lot of editing, but I think this is pretty good. It used to be one of my least favorite fics, but now I think it's worth its salt.

In the Land of the Winds, sheltered by a tree that has seen the passage of ages, you and Kaeya sit side by side.

The silence that hangs between you is broken only by rumbles of thunder and the constant drum of the downpour on the grass around the great oak. 

The longer it lingers, the more oppressive the quiet becomes.

When you had come out here, hoping to find guidance from Mondstadt’s greatest hero, you hadn’t asked your boyfriend of several years to follow. It's not like you mind his company, but the turmoil inside you urges you to send him away.

He shouldn't be here. He'll hate you. Don't let him see just how broken you are.

For a moment you’re reminded of one of Amber’s favorite stories, the one where the birds couldn’t fly until they gathered the courage and took the plunge. Looking at Kaeya, who seems to be waiting for you to speak, you realize that in this situation, you’re going to have to be that little, flightless bird. That somehow, you have to ignore the terrified voice, and take the plunge.

So you speak. “Why did you follow me, Kaeya?”

“Am I not supposed to be concerned about my --”

A crack of thunder obscures the end of this sentence, but you’ve heard his favorite term of endearment enough to fill in the blank.

Most days, the charming “lady love” falling from his lips warms you, even if all you do is blush and roll your eyes. 

Today, however, isn’t one of those days. Today you sigh, closing in you yourself as one hand wraps around the opposing arm.

A drop of rain splashes on your neck, but you pay no mind.

“Don’t call me that, Kaeya. Not right now.”

“Talk to me, Y/n. What are you thinking? You're not supposed to sit under trees in a storm.”

While you bite your lip, unable to answer, Kaeya narrows his eye at you.

He knows you have your secrets. He sees it in the haunted look that you get sometimes, in the nightmares he knows you have but have never let him soothe. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s been waiting. He knows as well as any that when you're ready to speak, you will.

Another crack of lightning sends a pang of loss and frustration through his heart, reminding him of another, similarly miserable day and the vision he received. His vision, Secrets.

Mondstadt is the City of Freedom, not the City of Trade. Contracts are not its value and Rex Lapis not its god, but perhaps one of its precepts could be a solution. A fair trade, one thing for another. A secret for a secret.

All he knows is that if you're going to be hurting, putting yourself in danger to find comfort in solitude, he at least wants to know why.

Kaeya moves closer, not touching you--knowing that at times like this that you don't like touch--but bringing himself close enough that the storm can't swallow his confession.

“I’m from Khaenri’ah.”

The words are soft, but they’re enough to have you staring at him eyes wide and lips parted.

“Kaeya?”

He takes your question as a prompt to continue. “I was abandoned here, left to be a spy for Khaenri’ah, Though… I’m not sure where my loyalties are anymore.

“The Knights, the Winery--even Diluc as much as I hate to admit it--- and most especially my beautiful lady love. But I was raised for this mission, raised to fight against Mondstadt. I try not to think of what would happen if I were forced to choose between the two.”

Kaeya’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for your response.

You rest your hand over his. “Is that why you and Diluc fought?”

“It was poor timing on my part. He still hasn’t forgiven me.”

“Neither of you are anything less than mule headed. It’s frustrating, but endearing. I'm happy you told me. ”

You hesitate, biting your lip.

As Kaeya had anticipated, knowing his secrets makes it harder for you to bury yours.

It certainly silences the voice inside. After all, how can he run after sharing a secret like his.

"I guess this means I can't withhold my secret from you anymore. I just don’t know how to say it. I almost can't speak of it, and often, I physically can't."

Kaeya remains silent, letting you take your time.

You sigh, roughly, glaring at the ground. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying to think of a way to say something. To tell you. I trust you more than I trust anyone but…”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Exactly.”

Kaeya doesn’t push, his single, star-pupiled eye giving you quiet encouragement. “You don’t have to tell me, y/n. I might have shared with you, hoping you would tell me what you've been thinking, but if you’re not ready to talk, you're not ready to talk. I won't force you.”

You shake your head. “I want to. You trusted me. I want to return that trust.”

Kaeya shifts your hands so that instead of laying one on top of another, your fingers are laced together. “Take your time.”

You inhale, closing your eyes and steeling your resolve. When you open them your gaze falls to your intertwined fingers.

“Do you know why I won't sleep with you?”

“I’ve made a couple guesses.”

Guesses based on your reactions to certain jokes, to bawdy talk at the Angel’s Share, to your reactions any time he tries to initiate anything more than a heated make out session. 

The conclusions he makes are enough to have anger pooling in his gut. But he never pushed, trusting that the truth would come out in due time.

“I should have figured you would. You’re so perspective it’s scary.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I--” You avert your eyes as your throat constricts, trying to stop the words before they can be aired. You force them out anyway. “I had my innocence stolen. A long time ago. It took me a long time to realize what happened, but now that I have? It hurts, Kaeya. It hurts so bad and I don’t know how to fix it. And--And I’ve been scared.”

“Scared?”

Tears slip down your face, mixing with the rain that now soaks you both. 

“Scared that you’ll leave me because of it. Scared that you’ll learn what my nightmares hold and leave me because of it, because I’ll never be fully whole.”

The look in your eyes is so lost, so scared, a polar opposite to the vibrant aura that surrounds you everywhere you go--his heart breaks for you.

Kaeya draws you into his arms, mindful of any negative reaction to his touch.

It’s gratifying when you melt into his embrace.

“I would never leave you over this. You’re my wonderful Y/n, my lady love. I’m here for you. Always.”

His words break through the last of your barriers and a harsh sob tears itself from your throat.

Kaeya whispers soft words of love and comfort as tears join the rainwater soaking his chest,

Under the boughs of Vanessa’s tree, two secret keepers find honesty and the first step to healing. 

Somewhere out there, the Anemo Archon smiles.

[fella-lovin-fella]

remembering things 👍 dont recommend.

[whoblewboobear]

The way this Cody Ko situation is hitting me.. I’m gonna have so much to talk about in therapy tonight like. I’m fucking haunted by that “we good?” Text he sent to Tana cause like- the longer you live with SA trauma the more patterns your start to notice that are routine for abusers. I remember getting my own little “we good” text from the asshole that SA’d and then SH’d me for months after. Like it is textbook. They do the same shit time and time again. It’s just- it’s hard and I should tune out from it but my mind comes back to Noel too. And I hope this isn’t hitting him as hard as other victims of SA that were/are TMG fans. Like this blows but it blows differently when you’ve gone through it. I hope Tana is okay.

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Fifty-Five

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, and trigger warnings for Ricky finally admitting out loud what was done to him, and not watered down in the video.

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

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tags: @faceless-mirror @missduffsblog @tamtam-elizabeth @witchyweeb34 @tearfallpixie

@wild-child-7747 @shilohrosechicken @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel

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@sunsshinesunny @spicywhenspeaking @dontdiganothergravetoday @chick-from-nz @latenightmusiclover

@anameunmusical

He was sitting by Chris and feeling nothing but doom when the arrived and asked to speak with him again. Ricky sighed, this was not what they needed.

Rubbing his thumb over the side of Chris hand, he’d only just finished getting him to have something decent for lunch, and Vin had taken Ava to go get a coffee down at the hospital café. Ricky slipped his phone from his pocket to send a quick message to Vin to see if either of them could come back to sit with Chris while he talked with the detectives. He had a feeling this was not going to be a quick and simple conversation this time. Of course, it wouldn’t be since they’d brought up Grace, she made everything more complicated. Was he going to have to explain everything over to the detectives that he’d already explained to the world, damn. The whole ordeal had just become so emotionally draining, he was done dealing with it, he didn’t want… he was just… done. 

Now that he was officially moving, he couldn’t wait to sell the house that he used to live in with her, leave that last bit of the life that they had had together behind. There had been a time that he had considered whether that might be their forever home, he was glad it wasn’t. Originally, he had planned to have everything in motion by now, but that wasn’t happening. He’d had talked to a realtor already in turn, sure, but that was before he’d started moving all those weeks ago. 

Now, with the detectives at the door, he felt like everything was about to implode. Chris fingers tightened around his hand and he knew that he’d seen them too.

“Mr Olson, we have a few more questions about the situation involving your soulmate situation regarding the-”

“You don’t need to explain, I get it, if you could give me a few minutes, I can meet you in the hallway.”

Ricky cut him off before he could go into what he wanted to talk to him about, he wasn’t an idiot, and he didn’t want him to spell it out in front of Chris. Chris had had to deal with enough right now to worry about Talia than having to rehash everything about Grace, especially after his own stalker troubles involving the police. Ricky’s phone vibrated in his hand and he glanced down to read the text from Vinny confirming he was on his way back to the room. However, that was when the female detective spoke up then,

“Actually Mr Olson, we’re also really sorry, but it would probably be better if we took this down to the station.”

He just stared at them for a long moment, were they serious, his soulmate was in a coma, she had no other family, and they wanted him to just leave?

“Do you have any other family you can contact to sit with your soulmate while you come with us, perhaps?”

When she pointedly glanced towards Chris, Ricky wanted to glare, any respect he had was gone out the window in that instant. Contact someone, instead of just assuming he would ask Chris outright, and that look? Well, oh, if she assumed that he might be worried about leaving Chris alone with her for, any reason, then, should detectives really make assumptions such as that? It was one thing to suspect a person, but Chris was not the one that had been in the car running down his soulmate, no, he was the one sitting by her bedside worried about her.

“Yes, actually, I have someone already on their way back, if you’d just wait a few minutes, as I have already requested, I’ll be able to come with you, please, just, wait in the hall.”

He spoke as carefully as possibly without wanting to rip her head off with other choice words, and there were some choice ones he could say right now. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he was trying desperately to be civil. Thankfully they listened and left the room out to the hall like he suggested, and Chris was squeezing his hand again. As soon as they had left, Chris was speaking,

“Don’t let them make you feel crazy-”

“Chris-”

“No, listen to me Rick,”

Turning his head to look at his best friend, his lover, soulmate, right now the only person that was holding him together whether he realised it or not, that was what Chris was doing for him. Yes, Ricky was trying to do the same for him, but that wasn’t the point, if it weren’t for Chris, Ricky wasn’t sure if he couldn’t handle any of this right now.

“When I had to deal with my stalker pulling this kind of shit, when she attacked me, they made me feel like I was imagining everything, so do not let them do that. You are not imagining anything. If you need me down there, you call me immediately. I will get you a lawyer-”

Shaking his head-

“Don’t Ricky, Talia is in a coma, if Grace gets charged, this is attempted murder, or at the very least attempted vehicle homicide, you don’t want to be a part of that. If she implicates you, and she is fucking insane, she might, trust me, she might- I- I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose both of-” Shit, no, no, Ricky was not going to let him spiral down that thought process. Quickly, he was letting go of Chris his hands and pressing his hands to Chris’ face, pressing his palms against his cheeks. The taller man's eyes all watery as his words had started to shake, this, this was not going well, Vinny could not get his fast enough.

“Chris, don’t you fucking dare, I will not hear that from you. Talia is going to be fine, I will be coming back. Everything is going to be okay. Breath with me, now. In, out.”

Seeing Chris taking in a shaky breath… sure enough, his timing was impeccable as the drummer opened the door.

“Ava is going to come back with coffees and lunch for us Chris, hope you’re hungry, she’ll feed an army I’m sure.”

The smile on Vin’s face, he could tell how tired he was, everyone was feeling it, Ava had been back and forth from the hospital the whole week, along with Kyle and Jordan. Their vacation had been spent at the hospital instead of enjoying the sights, as it was, they were due to head home tomorrow, despite both vying to stay longer, Kyle only had so much time off work. He had explained so much of the medical jargon to Ricky, half of which, he wished he hadn’t.

Kissing Chris quickly, a softly whispered goodbye, Ricky stood up from his chair and said thanks to Vin as he grabbed his wallet, Chris’ car keys and jacket, and made his way out to the hall. There was no way he planned to be escorted by the detectives, that would give them too much power over how this was going to go, especially after Chris’ warning. Not to mention, once they were done, he had to come back here somehow, and they would be done. If they expected to keep him there, he supposed Chris was right again, about that lawyer, he hoped not though. For now, he was just going to go down to the station and see what they had to say. 

Once they got to the police station, the detectives led Ricky to one of the interview rooms. It wasn’t one of the nice ones with the soft cushy cushions, so he wasn’t sure how to take the situation, but he could guess that they weren’t rolling out the red carpet at this point. Either he was a person of interest, or they thought he was lying about something, maybe Chris was right, Grace was accusing him of being complicit in the accident. Thankfully, he already knew how delusional she was, and he’d already documented his side of this story, openly, at least, as much as he’d been willing to, publicly. 

Sitting in the room with the wall that was the two-way mirror, well, interview room, interrogation room, it really was the same thing when you thought about it. They said they just wanted to ask some questions, but that was what they wanted to do, interrogate him. Chris was right to tell him, don’t let them make him feel insane, don’t let him question what was happening, what had happened, what Grace had done to him. 

“Now, Mr Olson-”

“Ricky, Mr Olson is my father, or Rick.”

The detective across from him was setting down a file, 

“Rick, you made a 911 call-”

Really, this was about the 911 call? He’d tried to get Talia help when she had almost died, and they were going to use that against him?

“How exactly did you know Miss Landon was in an accident?”

Taking in a slow breath, it was like he could hear Chris reminding him all over again, don’t let them make you feel like you are insane.

“As I explained that over the phone, we have a rare trauma bond with our soulmate connection, it is, rare, but I could feel her pain. Well at the time I only knew that she was feeling something intensely, and she wasn’t answering her phone… and I knew she was driving… I got worried… I’d called our friends, no one knew where she was, I knew she had been driving, the feelings continued to get worse on my end, fearing for Talia, so I made a leap, and I called emergency.”

Staring the detectives across the table square in the eyes, he was not going to let them make him out like he was guilty, he would not have done this to Talia.

“Tell me, Ricky, you were with Miss Adams for five years, you yourself talk about how you were ready to propose, why did you throw that all away for a woman you don’t even know?”

Ricky’s blood turned cold. The way the male detective said that, showed they had seen the video he had posted on his YouTube channel, that he had put out there to clear the air about his soulmate status. So they knew, they knew everything. 

“If you’ve, no, you’ve watched it, it’s the only way you’d have seen me admit to the fact I planned to propose. That video posted online was the only place I did publicly admit to planning to propose. Watching that video, you know damn well, that I left her because from the very day I met her, even before I met her, she was lying to me. She planned to lie and manipulate me about being my soulmate. Now, I’ve looked up the statute of limitations, five years, unfortunately, I can’t have her arrested for sexual assault because we were together for five years.”

Oh yes, he had looked it up. Ricky wasn’t an idiot. He’d looked it up. Fact was, he’d looked it up long before Grace, he’d looked it up back when Chris had had his stalker, back with the thought of a- what if scenario had Chris stalker gotten too close and then hadn’t known. Never for one second had he thought it could ever happen to him. Oh, how wrong he had been.

“If I’d discovered her lies with-in two years or less, I could have had her arrested for sexual assault for what she did to me. Which, I find to be disgusting that just because she was that good at lying, I can’t do shit… It’s like rewarding her for stalking me too well.” Sitting across from them at the table, glaring at them. The laws were ridiculous, some states had caught up to the absurdity, the loopholes that people could manipulate, and use to their advantage. Sadly theirs had not, Grace was obviously sailing right though. They were sitting there questioning him, and he was a a victim of a whole other crime, but did they seem to care? “Now, Talia, my real soulmate, is in a coma because she has turned around and tried to kill her, the most amazing woman I have ever met, and I stupidly haven’t told I love yet because of the fucked up trauma that psychotic bitch has left me with… so if you’ll excuse me if I don’t care for your accusations about why I decided not to stay with the woman that bamboozled, lied and made a complete fool of me for five years.”

Huffing slightly. He was so damn tired of this.

While the relationship had been consensual technically, yes, the fact that he went into the entire thing with the belief that she had been his soulmate, made his consent a grey area at best. That she’d shown up at the café with his tattoo and continued for years to encourage him that she was his soul mate after he’d confirmed it was his soulmate tattoo? That consent disappeared. What she had done was nothing less than abuse. Ricky could bury it, and deny it all he wanted, but there it was, laid out on the table. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[fatuifucker]

tw SA mention

tbh i would rather have minors read my work rather than those coquette smut blogs (not targeting anyone specifically, just in general) that write really ooc drabbles and topics that are basically SA. sometimes it's even blatant SA it's wild that you'd have the reader basically crying and begging the character to stop but the post's theme is just (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[phoenix-positivity]

your hands held me down while you had your way with me but I will not drown in that past tense misery I am alive and there’s still so much to see I can survive now that I’ve broken free

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

[propertyofwhitney67]

House Party

Whitney the Bully x Reader

Words: 828

Warnings: Implied past sexual assault

Note: I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while, it’s been stuck in my head more lately and my maladaptive daydreaming of characters comforting me hasn’t been enough. It was years ago but every once in a while the thoughts just don’t go away.

The music was muffled through the wall of one of the many bedrooms at this house party. I don’t know whose house it is, Whitney dragged me along with his gang of friends to it. With a bit of drink in me I let Whitney drag me upstairs where we are now.

He picked me up and sat me on his lap and started to kiss me hungrily, I kissed him back just as eagerly. He began to grope my chest while I ran my hands through his hair. The door swung open and without missing a beat Whitney yelled, “Fuck off!” and started to kiss me again. I heard mumbling then the door close. I laughed into the kiss, letting him slip his tongue into my mouth.

Before I knew it I was basically naked and he was on top of me. He broke the kiss, took off his shirt and went to undo his belt. The clanking sound of the metal sent me into a panic. I tried to get out from under him and in my panic I pushed him hard back onto the bed. 

I jumped off and ran into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door and locking it. I held my knees to my chest and tried to calm myself. Breathe in and out. In and out. A bang on the door caused me to jump, “What the fuck slut?” He sounded angry with a hint of something else I couldn't place in my terrified state.

“Go away…please just go away…” I mumbled while hugging myself on the cold floor. I don’t want to, please don’t. 

Everything came back from that night. The drinking, the smoking, the smell of his detergent, and the godawful sound of his belt. How naive I was. He acted so nice, I should have known it was a ruse. I was just a new toy for him to play with, to damage. 

I heard a thump on the other side of the door as Whitney sat down and leaned against it, “...What happened?” I didn't answer, only letting out a few sobs. He sighed, “I won't hurt you. I’m not that kind of piece of shit Y/n.” He used to be, but not anymore. He had truly grown to care for you, he just didn’t show it very well.

I spoke incoherently through my sobbing, “I’m-I’m…I-I…” I tried to regulate my breathing again to no avail.

“Can I come in?” He asked in a surprisingly soft voice. I shook as I stood up and unlocked the door. I quickly went to the other side of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. 

He opened the door slowly and made his way to me but stopped short, not wanting to scare me more. He threw his shirt at me and gestured for me to put it on. I didn’t say anything and did as he wanted. He was silent, trying to think of something to comfort me, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head furiously. “Ok…do you want to go back into the room?” I thought it over and nodded. He held out his hand and helped me up then led me back into the room.

I suddenly felt embarrassed and put my head in my hands. I can’t believe I let myself panic like that. Whitney would never do that to me, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me who I have to kill for touching you.”

I shook my head, not wanting to say his name. It was so long ago at this point, but the name still instilled fear in me. “Doesn’t matter, he graduated a few years ago. I’m sure he’s left town by now.”

He patted the bed beside him and without thinking I sat beside him. He put his arm around me in an attempt to comfort me, “Sick fucks like that don’t leave this town, they thrive here.” I sniffled and leaned into him but he pulled away and held my hands up to my ears. I looked at him in confusion, “Just do it.” I nodded and covered my ears. 

He stood up and took off his belt and threw it to the other side of the room. I uncovered my ears as he laid on the bed and patted beside him again. I crawled up to him and rested my head on his chest as he held me close. “I’m sorry I ruined the moment…” I mumbled after a while. I already apologized, but I still felt bad about it.

“I can fuck you another night slut. Just want you to be ok.” He said quietly while petting my hair. I smiled and looked up at him, he leaned in and kissed me. It was short but filled with emotion. “Rest, I’ll stay up.” I smiled at him again and laid back down on his chest and fell into a peaceful sleep.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

[wyked-ao3]

writing share #2 (probably will get re worked just a little)

well since someone ( @tragedycoded ) asked for the next lines I think will get me glared at I will put it under the lines (there will be some reworking of the scene but vibes will stay the same. Right now I'm working on editing and rereading the story before writing the last quarter of the book so I can fill any points I missed lol)

this contains spoilers, Tw past S.A, panic attack and trauma

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@honeybewrites

🚫🚫🚫🚫this contains spoilers, Tw past S.A, panic attack and trauma🚫🚫🚫🚫

Daimhín looked over at Oisìn's laugh as he knew it was a rare occurrence, the ringing noise of it was music to his ears. He would never tire or the sound. Especially if he got to see Oisìn's smile that went with it. He leaned forward broadcasting his intention so Oisìn could opt out. Their lips met in a brief touch before Oisìn leaned into the kiss. Daimhín enjoyed the warmth of Oisìn's lips against his. The kiss deepened slightly and Daimhín shifted to pull Oisìn closer. He saw Oisìn's eyes widen and went to pull away but the next thing he knew he was falling. He inhaled and held his breath as he hit the water. As he surfaced he looked up to see Oisìn had darted and his hat must be on the deck because it was not in the ocean with him. He sighed as he realized some of the things he had noticed about Oisìn that hadn't made sense, made more sense and given Oisìn and his crew had been captured by Cutthroat…his thoughts trailed off as he blanched.

chapter and pov switch

Oisìn saw Daimhín leaning in and didn't mind, as their lips touched he sighed, when their lips met a second time he melted into the kiss. Daimhín tasted faintly of apple and smelled of cinnamon, he relaxed into the kiss further. The next thing Oisìn knew was he didn't feel safe, he felt cornered and he could feel the past trying to drag him under. He felt his hands push Daimhín away without thought and he darted towards the lower deck. He needed to find somewhere safe, he wasn't safe here. He faintly heard a splash and realized someone went overboard and it clicked. In his mind he had pushed Daimhín away and they had been sitting on the rails. He saw Adoh and said, “capt'n overboard.” As he darted past him. That was his last coherent thought he had before he dove in-between some barrels of rum in an empty area of the ship