#post-inversion

[krushkreates]

some post-inversion david x angel bc i like hurting and making yall hurt with me

tw/cw: post inversion, mental breakdown, ptsd, anxiety, night terrors- it’s a wild and long ride for this one.

INVERSION AND POST-INVERSION SPOILERS

—

angels been david’s pillar after the inversion. and honestly? i felt that. anyways, since david’s got a small security job, angel has the house to themselves for the day. it’s quiet. they’ve taken a nap, done laundry, cleaned, even made some food. they get a phone call from their best friend. it’s all fine and dandy. they know david’s been involved in an attack (or the inversion if they’re an empowered person) and that it’s been a rough time to say the least. they both go silent for a moment before they ask “angel, how are you actually doing?” and the floodgates open. angel confesses through these heaving sobs that they don’t sleep at night because david wakes up. sometimes he’s screaming, sometimes he’s half-shifted. sometimes he’s thrashing and growling. then the crying hits for hours and the suns up by then so there’s no point in going back to sleep because angel has work in an hour. they take a nap on their “lunch” that’s really maybe 15 minutes long so they’ve got 5 minutes to shovel in something so they don’t pass out. if they’re lucky they sleep in the car for 30 minutes once a week. their phone is always on the charge because they’re so scared they’ll get that call again that somethings happened and won’t know if he’s okay or god forbid even alive. the only times they really fully shower now are when he does because he doesn’t feel safe being alone and he’s usually needing to be under warm water. the therapist said it’s a good way of feeling safe so that’s what they do. angel doesn’t remember the last time their muscles fully relaxed or their head wasn’t hurting or part of their shirt wasn’t wet from tears. through all of this, they never once blame david. but they’re so tired and angels curled into themselves, shoulders shaking and eyes watering.

it’s so hard to be someone’s support when you yourself feel like you’re crumbling but what good is it to complain when you weren’t in the ward? you weren’t in there so your needs don’t matter? the front door opened about 10 minutes ago and while every fiber of david’s being is screaming at him to go comfort his mate, he stays, partially hidden by the wall that separates the front door and hallway from the kitchen. it’s a rare moment to hear angel genuinely express what’s been on their mind about all of this. he’s told them time and time again that his trauma doesnt mean they weren’t affected. now angels apologizing to the other person on the line but it’s just so damn hard because “i don’t remember the last time i got a full nights sleep or actually let myself cry and i don’t remember to take my fucking meds anymore because i have to make sure he does because i’m so scared that i’m gonna lose him to the aftermath.” it’s silent in the house and angels wiping their tears and apologizing again and shakily laughs at something the other person said. i’ll be alright, they reassure them. i love you and i’ll talk to you soon okay?

he takes that as his cue to start walking but all he can think of is how hurt they are. he takes a glance at their wide and bloodshot eyes and finally notices how dark the rings are and when did they lose that much weight and they’ve put the mask back on, asking him about his day and how the job went. he holds them so tight and apologies fall so fast out of his mouth and now they’re crying again and he’s fighting back tears but the therapist said that holding in emotions is bad so now they’re both crying on the kitchen floor. he’s hurting and they’re hurting and he’s hurting because they’re hurting for him. they know angel’s prone to anxiety but when you’re fighting for your life in your mind, you get tunnel vision. he notes that they never once blamed him. no accusatory fingers, no clipped tones of vehemence, no sagging shoulders when he asks them to come back to bed for a minute, no dry attitude if he comes home from the office early in tears. no stiff shoulders when he’s hugging them. none of that. always warm, soft, and caring. healing.

the kitchen tile is cold through his jeans and angel’s gripping his shirt the way he did the first month after. how animalistic emotions make a person. he’s sorry and they’re sorry and while wounds don’t heal proportionally to time, they heal eventually. they always do

[dominimoonbeam]

Dear Redacted Fam,

Am I the only one that was more comfortable with the horrors of the Inversion audios than with the overload of guilt and heartache in the Post-Inversion?

Does this make me a bad person?

The audios are so good but they make me feel so bad!

[thatlesbeanjew]

Sam/Darlin’ & Shaw Pack Beach Fic

There’s A New Sun In A Dying Day by thatlesbeanjew (ao3)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38253058/chapters/95578468

Summary:

Harder Beta Faster Stronger:

Anyway, what if we did like a beach trip? Or something?

Canis Cryptid:

Uh

Harder Beta Faster Stronger:

Just spend a day at the beach, chillin’ on the coast

Shortstack Bigsmack:

Let's see how long it takes him

Harder Beta Faster Stronger:

Subs, sand, and fun in the sun. C’mon, it’ll be great!!!!

Harder Beta Faster Stronger:

Oh shit

Wait

Shortstack Bigsmack:

There it is

Chapter 1/2

[ejunkiet]

Ooooh how about “There’s something about you that makes me smile"?

>:3 thank you!! this is the follow up to the post-inversion yearning huxley/freelancer fic, and signals the end of the slow burn.

redacted asmr: huxley/freelancer/gavin. rated teen.

READ ON AO3

When he turns, he sees both Gavin and Freelancer watching him. “We talked,” is all he says, simply. Oh fuck.

--

there's something about you that makes me smile

For the next few weeks, things remain much the same. Except - that Hux can’t forget the conversation in his kitchen.

Gavin’s words, soft and persuasive, running in circles in his head on a constant loop, sharp and all too honest. You can't hide it. You care for them. They already know.

The thing is - it’s messing him up.

So Huxley does what he knows how to do - he trains. Ups his time at the gym, hitting the weights until his muscles are sore and aching and he can barely walk but he still manages to get home after, limping up the narrow stairs and across the threshold of his apartment, passing out on the couch just to repeat the whole cycle again the next day. And the next.

Damien notices. Damien notices, because of course he does - he’s always been perceptive, and he’d run into him a few times too many outside of the training grounds at off hours to let it go.

“Out with it.” His mouth is a determined line, dark eyes narrowed, and Huxley knows from experience that he’s not going to be able to avoid this conversation. Prior attempts had been proof enough.

“I’m in love with freelancer.”

It’s freeing, to have it out in the open. To say it like this, to someone who knows, who understands.

Damien snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Huxley stares at him, wide-eyed, his heart beating within his chest like a wild thing, alive and untamed, and Damien senses his panic, his dark brow furrowing as he raises his hand.

“I didn’t mean- that came out wrong. It’s just, I know you. I’ve known you, for a long time now. I’ve seen the way you are around them. You’re…” He seems to struggle to find the right words. “Happy. Happier with them than even with the rest of us.”

His mouth softens, tugging up at one corner. “They’re happy with you too.”

Huxley doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Damien watches him for a long moment, before he releases a long breath. “I get that you guys have some things to work out. I can’t say I know the solution to all this.” His brow furrows for a moment, before smoothing out. His eyes are clear when they meet his again.

“But know that, no matter what, we will still be here for you. You’re family, Hux.”

Huxley appreciates that. More than he knows.

“Thanks, Damien.”

That small smile tugs at his mouth again, before he nods towards the gym.

“Join me for some reps. I’ll spot you.” His dark eyes narrow. “And don’t come down here alone again. Drop me a text. I’m always free.”

There’s no arguing with him, and if he’s being honest with himself, Huxley doesn’t want to. A smile curling up his lips, he shoulders his gym bag and they walk into the athletics centre together.

–

Things come to a head a little over a week later, in the Dahlia Academy locker rooms after practice.

He’s just left the showers, wearing his shorts and little else as he runs a towel through his hair, and he can feel eyes on him, that distinctive tickle at the back of his neck.

When he turns, he sees both Gavin and Freelancer watching him.

Freelancers eyes are dark, their pupils wide, swallowing the chocolate of their iris. There’s a flush rising high on their cheeks, and they don’t seem to notice the fact that they’ve been caught, their eyes roaming, as if they can’t decide where to settle, following the trails of water down to his chest towards his abdomen.

There’s a heat in their gaze that’s unmistakable, igniting a similar flame within him, burning beneath his skin. When he meets Gavin’s bright eyes, he’s smiling.

“We talked,” is all he says, simply.

Oh fuck.

He lets the towel drop down to his shoulders as they take a hesitant step closer. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his fucking chest.

“I’ll give you two… a moment.”

Freelancer’s eyes find his, finally, and the heat within them tempers, turning soft. “Hi.”

He smiles. He can’t help smiling when he’s with them. “Hey. Can we… sit?”

They sit next to each other on the bench outside the lockers, and he’s still shirtless, his damp hair dripping water onto his chest, but he doesn’t feel the cold. Not with Freelancer at his side, close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from them, their breath a soft rush against his cheek as they turn to face him.

Their eyes are dark, uncertain. He can see that they’re nervous. Maybe as nervous as he is - even as they try to hide it, their hands clasping in front of them, as their gaze flickers between him and the bench. Trying to find a place to start, he thinks.

“So.” There’s a lot of weight on that single syllable, and he clears his throat, trying again. He thinks about offering them his hand. “How do you want to do this?”

They think about it for a moment. “Why don’t we just… talk? Say how we feel.”

He nods. That makes sense. He can do that. Still, it takes several slow, deep breaths, before he can find the words.

“I… like you. A lot. I care about you, more than I think I’ve ever cared for anyone else. I-” His breath catches, and it’s almost too much, but their eyes on him are soft, honest, waiting. They’ll listen to whatever he has to say, he knows that. Just as he knows that they won’t judge him for it.

Still, he has to turn away when he says it, his heart in his throat, poured into his words. “I think I love you.”

There’s a beat where no one says anything, his words just - sitting there between them.

Then- “I think I love you too.”

He turns his head sharply, catching their gaze. They’re still watching him, and there’s a certainty there that wasn’t there before, their dark eyes steady on his.

“Gavin and I discussed it. At length.” Their lips twitch, as if they want to curl into a smile, except - except that it’s not the time for it now. “I think hearts have - a greater capacity for love, than people normally talk about. There’s room for more than one person inside of them.”

They take a deep breath, as if they’re steeling themselves, and there’s those nerves again.

“And it’s something I want to explore with you. If you’re okay with it.”

He reaches out then, taking their hand, in the way he’s wanted to since the start of this conversation. Their palm is soft, and small compared to his own, their fingers curling around his, and they fit perfectly, as if they were made to be there. Maybe they were.

It’s not something he can say he’d ever considered before them. He’s only been in monogamous relationships before now, although not many - and nothing serious since he’d arrived in Dahlia. Nothing - ever - like the way he feels for them.

And he likes Gavin. He likes Gavin and Freelancer together. He’d never wanted to get in between the two. The very idea offends him - Gavin is his friend, and one of the most caring people he knows, even if he likes to make light of it. Even if he thinks the rest of them don’t know it.

(They do.)

But… that isn’t what they’re talking about. This isn’t about replacing Gavin in the relationship.

They’re asking how he feels about having him as well. About having both of them.

His eyes flicker between theirs, before dropping back down to their mouth.

“...Can I kiss you?”

They nod, their dark eyes wide.

He leans in, and they meet him halfway, soft lips and hushed breath, and fuck. He’s been waiting so long for this. To feel them like this, warm and pliant and open. His hand cups their jaw, holding them close as they tilt their head, lips parting as they lick at the seam of his mouth, and he opens for them, a low groan building in his throat as the kiss deepens.

They linger there, in the moment, for a short while. He memorises the shape of their lips, the taste of them on his tongue. By the time they break apart, they’re both panting for breath, their foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. It’s close, and intimate, and it fills that aching hollow inside of him, the part of him that wanted them.

And he knows his answer. “I want this to work. But this is new to me. I’m not sure… how.”

Their sigh is a gentle rush of air against his cheek. They draw back until they can meet his gaze, and their dark eyes are soft and filled with an emotion that makes his heart clench, makes him want to kiss them again.

“I know. We’ll figure it out. Together.”