#‘well you didn’t tell me what specifically’ I have and I was also very sick when you asked and treated it like that was my only time to

[eyes-like-the-night]

I spent the past few years trying to have a better relationship with my dad and it’s currently absolutely in shambles

(My mom is kinda thriving though because she hates my dad and I get it now so when I’m really frustrated she listens and reminds me that yeah he hasn’t changed since she divorced him)

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month. 

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.  

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.  

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.”  You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.  

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.  

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.  

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.  

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you. 

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

 She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.  

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.  

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”  

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.  

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

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[jpitha]

They’ll eat what?

A Telmurian is walking around the promenade on the station, talking to their family on their pad.

What was that? Your signal is pretty weak. Oh! Yes, they have humans here.

I know. Their planet has a really big moon, they won’t stop telling everyone they meet. Yes, they told me about it at least three times. I saw the photos, it’s pretty big I guess.

Yes, they’re strong. I remember the time that human from the helm picked up two Sefigans and carried them around on his arms. I didn’t tell her, but I was impressed. Why didn’t I tell her? I don’t know.

They also have odd thought processes. Remember that story about the one that learned that the water filters were the same as the outer compensator on the FlashWarp drive? They still teach us to check other parts for commonalities like that. The Sefigans are building a whole reference of parts that can be exchanged for other parts.

They walk around, oblivious to everyone else on the promenade. A Gren glares at them, and clacks their mouthparts irritatedly. They are speaking loudly. They walk on, oblivious to the disruption they are causing.

I didn’t call you to talk about any of that stuff.

I just learned about their ‘food.’

Did you know they don’t have a specific food? They don’t have one or two or even three items that they consider food, they have hundreds.

Maybe even thousands.

They stop and stare out a window and are silent for a few moments.

Not only that, but they combine them in so many different ways. Even wilder, they have modifiers to their food. Can you believe it? They have things that aren’t technically food that they add to food to make it ‘taste’ different. They’re called spices or seasonings.

I know! Have you ever heard of such a thing?

They have this thing called ‘taste.’ It’s a whole sense for them! It’s what enables them to try and test foods and discover ones they like and reject ones they don’t like.

I have a hard time with it, to be honest. Imagine, food you don’t like. It’s food right? By its very definition it’s something you consume to survive.

They clack their wing covers together, like a sigh. A Sefigan sitting at a cafe near them makes a gesture, like they’re trying to shoo them away.

Not for the humans I guess. They have whole careers, whole philosophies, maybe even whole religions about food and its preperation.

I read about the first time some humans came onboard a Coalition ship. They asked where the kitchen was and when we said “the what” it was like you unplugged them. They just stood there with their mouths full of their scary sharp teeth open in surprise.

I imagine we had a similar face the first time they showed us a kitchen. Imagine, a whole room, a whole part of the ship that was turned over to their pursuit of food.

That’s another thing! They can get bored of food. Whoever heard of such a thing. It’s food! You eat it, you feel full, you continue with your day. That’s like… like being bored of breathing.

Have I tried any of it? I mean, so much of it is straight up poisonous to us. No, you’re right, some of it isn’t.

All right fine. Yes. I tried one. There was this one, it was something they called a cookie. It was made of something like ten ingredients all in very precise measurements, then mixed together and shaped into balls and cooked at a high temperature. How did they ever come up with that?

The cookie? I don’t know, it was fine I guess. I didn’t get sick. I guess I can’t taste like they can it wasn’t much of anything, just food. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings so I said I liked it. They gave me four more! I didn’t know what to do with them. They’re still in my room.

Okay, yes, I love you too. Tell the rest of the crèche I said good evening.

They disconnect the call and look up. There’s a group of humans sitting down at a human style cafe eating. One of them looks up at them. Their large wet eyes seem impossibly deep. In the corner of them, wetness wells.

“You didn’t like the cookies?”

[just-antithings]

Anti-ism is psuedoscience and a moral panic rolled into one

One of the most dangerous things about therapyspeak leaving the intended audience is that now antis feel fully qualified to tell survivors how they should and should not be coping, even to the point of attempting to override/contradict the advice of certified therapists.

I've had antis tell me the fiction I enjoy writing is retraumatizing myself, that I am doing harm by writing it; when I responded that actually, my therapist signed off on the stories I wrote (even when I mentioned the specific phrase "consensual nonconsent"), they said that my therapist doesn't know what she's talking about since she sanctioned my coping mechanism and explicitly labels her practice as kink-positive. Antis are attempting to make me, a survivor with mental illness that could ultimately be fatal if I leave a psychologist's care, disregard the advice of the medical professional supervising me when they have no certification at all. This could, if I were a more vulnerable person, be dangerous for not only my trust in my therapist, but it could sabotage my treatment as well.

They are using what amounts to little more than memes, based on misinformation, that use a few intelligent-sounding phrases that very rarely apply the way they think they do, as a wedge to attempt to assert themselves as authorities who can, with certainty, dictate the appropriate course of treatment for a total stranger, including telling them to disregard the therapies administered by a trained professional.

In other words? Antis are frighteningly similar to anti-vaxxers, who took medical terminology they didn't understand, applied it to shaky cause-effect logic models, started a moral panic, used statements generated by that moral panic as a citogenesis-fueled proof their initial starting of the moral panic was justified, damaged the doctor-patient relationship of millions of total strangers, jeopardized the healthcare of those strangers who now believed their doctor to be incompetent for following accepted medical best practice, and fomented dangerous fringe political ideologies that coupled themselves to other conspiracies based on rejecting commonly-acknowledged practices.

"Vaccines cause autism! Narrative therapy that implements any form of controversial kink causes retraumatization of the writer, reader, or both, and starts the writer on an inescapable slippery slope to becoming an abuser themself! It's better to be dead than autistic! It's better to suffer feelings of shame and/or isolation in silence than it is to use fiction to put a voice to your feelings! Your child is vaccine-damaged from thimerosal and is getting sick from virus-shedding! Your fiction caused me to groom myself and you're a porn-addicted monster for not facing your trauma the proper way! Your doctor doesn't know what's good for you, I do! Only I understand how your body/mind work and what treatment is appropriate for you! Your doctor has been manipulated by Big Pharma/kink supporters! The empirical-study-informed best practices for pediatrics/psychology are what's wrong, not me, whose research is carefully informed by TikTok videos and Twitter posts carefully formulated to cause amygdalar growth to keep me afraid so I will continue to engage with fear-mongering content that causes my politics to shift towards the alt-right, who coincidentally also push narratives based in fear, not in medicine! I am being perfectly logical here!"

Antis fundamentally reject empirical medicine just the way anti-vaxxers do. They just seem to get a free pass on it since it's "only" mental healthcare they are sabotaging, and few people acknowledge it as something as legitimate and lifesaving as other medical care.

[weirdsht]

cale with an s/o that's mothers so hard (coos at the averaging 9 year olds, bakes/cooks for the knights, plays and trains with the wolf children) – absolutely soft for kids, loves cuddling the children and cooking for them^^

Biased Concern - Cale/Reader

notes: I combined 2 asks because the premise was similar

tags: fluff, no gender specified for reader, novel spoilers (war)

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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another anon said: omg!! regarding the small preview you posted,, like there's the part in the novel where on and hong are in the eastern part with Ron and Beacorx while Cale has 3 days to live and smth smth + Raon going through his first growth phase (I don't really remember) so his s/o is in despair bc of the situation and they're like– ONE OF MY BABIES IS SICK AND ONE IS DYING AND THE OTHER 2 I DONT EVEN KNIW WHAT THEYRE DOING WAHHH 😔😔 that's all bye ✊️

Things are hectic. War is ongoing. Everyone is on their toes. Commander Cale Henituse is nowhere to be seen. Roan Kingdom’s Crown Prince Alberu Crossman is in a state of shock.

In short, things are chaotic.

However, it doesn’t look like that on the outside as most don’t have an idea what’s going on. Only very trusted people know just how everything is on the verge of being in shambles.

“I’m sure you were shocked your highness. Please forgive him. He has this terrible habit of throwing fast ones at random times.”

That was the first thing you said to Alberu as you entered his tent. The golden-haired man was already busy as it was. Now he has to cover and fill up Cale’s missing presence.

“I think I’m getting used to it now.”

You let out a short laugh at his response. Alberu said it with a nonchalant tone however his face conveys just how much of a headache Cale brings him. But it wouldn’t be Cale if he didn’t bring a headache.

“At least eat while you work your highness.”

Pushing the cart closer to where the crown prince is, you presented the foods cooked for today. On the plate, there’s a medium rare steak paired with some vegetables like asparagus, mashed potatoes, and others. It’s a simple meal, but it has all the nutrients and protein one would need. 

“Did you help cook this? You were fighting earlier you should’ve just rested.”

“It's not a bother at all Your Highness. Seeing everyone energetic is enough to make me energized as well.”

You smiled at Alberu as he started eating. Humming in approval at your cooking.

“When are you going to visit Cale?”

Alberu stopped eating for a second to ask you a second. You stayed silent at his question, deeply pondering about it.

On one hand, you wanted to visit him and check how the children and he is doing. On the other hand, you are still needed in the Gorge of Death. Especially since the others are gone. Your complicated thoughts did not go unnoticed by the quarter elf. He can easily tell just how worried you are for your significant other but also thinking of your responsibilities.

“Just go.”

“But Your Highness as Cale’s Deputy Commander–”

“Are you going against the word of the crown?”

That made you shut up. However, you were still hesitant. Cale’s absence already puts so much on Alberu’s plate. His responsibilities will overflow if you go away too.

“It’ll be fine. Just make sure to come back quickly. While you’re at it tell that punk to get well fast too.”

Alberu waved his hands. Telling you to go now, leaving no room for argument.

“I… Thank you, your highness.”

Soon enough you are inside Hope and Adventure Loving Inn. Specifically, you were inside Beacrox’s kitchen making sweet treats for everyone.

Just outside the kitchen the staff, the previous mountain bandits, are whispering among themselves. They’ve never seen anyone freely enter the chef’s territory so this is a shock for everyone.

“Thanks for letting me bake Beacrox! Take this portion and share it among yourself and the other staff.”

You smiled at the tall man with him only responding with a bow of gratitude. As you go out of the kitchen you see everyone acting a bit weird. It was so obvious they were trying to look busy while eavesdropping. One of them was even feather-dusting another employee’s face.

“You’re here nya!”

“We missed you nya!”

On and Hong greeted you respectively as Ron guided you upstairs. Indeed, you haven’t seen them since the opening of the inn. You said you were going to visit but things got delayed because of everything that happened.

“I missed you too. Now go share this among yourselves. Make sure to leave some for your youngest brother.”

You hugged the two for a bit before asking Ron to show you where Cale was. As he showed you the way you reluctantly let the two children go. Promising to play with them more later.

“I must warn you. The sight inside is unsightly.”

The servant warned you before opening the door. Sure enough, it was. The first thing that caught your attention was the foul stench of blood.

Speaking of blood, Cale was super bloody. He keeps vomiting blood like a water pipe with a leak.

“Oh my…”

You unconsciously said. The two heads lying on the bed turn to you. With Raon’s expression brightening up.

“You visited!”

“Well, I did promise to visit your siblings.”

Smiling, you welcomed the toddler into a warm embrace. Behind you, Ron excused himself to give the three of you privacy.

Cough!

A certain redhead deliberately coughed out blood louder than before. Clearly unsatisfied at you saying that you came to visit the children.

“Of course, I came to visit you too.”

You laughed, walking towards the bed to give your significant other a kiss on the forehead. The bed dips as you sit down on it, with Raon still in your arms.

“I take it that you successfully got the water ancient power? All this blood must be from your plate fixing itself then.”

One of your hands was stroking Cale’s hand while the other one fed Raon the singular cookie you had brought with you inside the room.

Cale’s eyes looked at you. Probably examining if you were hurt somewhere while being away from him. He then frowned as he saw you feeding the chubby dragon. Your gaze travels to where he seems to be looking and the jealousy makes you laugh.

“Yes, I made it. Yes, there’s still some left. Yes, I already prepared some greasy food to cook so you eat later after you’re well. No, I will not stop feeding Raon. Don’t be greedy, you already have most of my attention.”

The commander’s frown etched deeper in his face as you said the last part. His gaze seems to be asking you if you’re really concerned about his well-being.

“Of course I am.”

You chuckled.

“I wouldn’t left the Gorge of Death if I wasn’t silly.”

Pushing his hair back a little, you gave his forehead another kiss. Reassuring him that you didn’t just go for the children.

Later on, when Cale was feeling much better he asked you if you only got together with him so that the kids would favour you.

“Silly man, I don’t need to be with you for the kids to love me.”

“That’s right nya!”

“Certainly nya.”

“I’ll like my human’s human even if you aren’t together!”

The defeated Cale could only click his tongue in annoyance.

[brights-place]

hi hiii! is it alright if i asked for seperate nsfw hcs of creek (+ BROZONE BEGGING ATP) w submissive fem!reader who is touch-starved, a bit insecure and tends to get easily flustered (who may have a thing for being praised in bed)? any type of hcs would do tho, but I'd also specifically like to hear what they would say to the reader pleaseeAJFJKDMGM 😋😋🤭

Brozone with an touch starved S/O

Pairing: Brozone X S/O (Seperate)

Warnings: MDNI, Mild cursing, NSFW, and Smutttt

A/N: It’s all good! Your like my 8th request so it’s fine! plus I love writing requests for all of you （≧∇≦）

John Dory

- When you first started dating and he held your hand he didn't get that hand back for awhile cause you played with it and clinged to it with an soft smile stuck on your face

- He took note of how when he gave you any affection you'd melt into his arms and cling to him or would smile at him with an loving gaze

- Every time he see's you staring at yourself in the mirror he knows just to go over and hug your waist and put his head on your shoulder praising you which makes you flustered

- But when it’s in the sheets OHOHOHO oh god I love this

- when he held your waist dominating you in bed while his hands slowly touched and caress your skin

- Your small noises and your doe eyes looking up at him made him know you were begging him to fuck you

- When he praises you while your riding him and blushing an deep red on your face as he whispered the praises in your ear as you move faster and kiss him lovingly

- “G-God t-that’s right- Agh~ your doing S-so well”

- John Dory would love when he praises you how you go faster and plan to pleasure him more to get more praises and affection from him

- when your done he’s make sure to clean you up very well and continue to praise how good you were which made you even more red and giggle

- You two obviously cuddle as he holds you tight while you nuzzle into his shoulder tiredly

Spruce/Bruce

- When you two started dating he shows his affection so much and enjoyed how you blushed easily or when you stutter out for him to stop but he knew you didn’t want him to

- he enjoys seeing you become flustered due to his comments and when he touched your waist when you do an job well done while working

- He always make sure your happy and when he shows you affection he always knows how you light up is amazing

- when you cling to him when he doesn’t show affection cause he always show it to you he’s chuckle and then pepper your face with kisses

- enjoys your love sick gaze when he kisses you and holds you so close

- Hands on your waist or holding your hand whenever he can

- Time for the flavored part that you horny lovers want Neheheheheh

- When he praised you in bed he couldn't help but smirk when you let out an moan and looked up at him with teary eyes

- I mean he’s enjoy it so much

- a breeding kink and praise kink? OHOHO This man loves it

- His cock touching the back back of your throat grabbing your hair while praising how your doing so well sucking him off

- “Ngh~ your doing so well honey just d-do it like that”

- Literally loves having him inside your gummy walls that milk his cock dry and or in your mouth sucking him off either one he enjoys

- When done he makes sure to give you as much affection needed like always and would kiss your face praising you.

Clay

- Okay but you wouldn’t tell me clay isn’t touch starved

- You two show each-other so much affection holding hands and cuddling whenever you get the chance to do so.

- it goes for both of you. You each give each other physical touch that is craved and words of affirmations

- When he see’s your sad expressions or talk bad about yourself he wraps his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek or hug your waist happily

- He makes sure your happy with yourself and happy around him even if your sad he’s comfort you

- Your both in the sad book club and are the ones that cry holding each-other close

- When you two were doing the deed he grabbed you by your hair lifting you up as your head was stuffed into an pillow hands gripping onto the sheets your back arched

- He praises you for your noises and being able to go through the punishments and rewards he was giving you for being good for the day

- When he praises you he enjoyed how you shivered at his touch as his hands stroked your sides before making you switch positions so he could hear the noises past your lips much clearer

- He enjoyed your panting and your eyes rolling back while you clinged to him

- “You feel good l-love Ngh Come on let me here your pretty little moans”

- would chuckle at how you’d thank him for making you feel so good and being lovely

- when done you with your Uhm… Stuff he would go clean you up and change you to your PJs and would go clean himself after

- You two would lay in your shared bed while watching tv together.

Floyd

- THIS WAS ALL BEFORE! BEING CAPTURED BY VELVET AND VENNEER - NEHEHEHHEHE I know How many Floyd simps are out here who want some food for their fav emo troll

- Anyways Floyd being the sensitive one is Every Thing

- He would notice how you'd seem freaked out and worried so he'd wrap himself or hold you

- He loves how you soothe and calm down quickly in his arms

- Loves your small gasps when he randomly puts his hands on you. his hands slowly touch and caress your skin - Peppers your face with kisses whenever he can and you two would do daily cuddles and chat on the couch - He took note of how when he gave you any affection you'd melt into his arms so fast he'd laugh and cup your face - Now for THOSE floyd simps who want to have and read more FREAKY Stuff

- He's bent over the counter and praises you as you pound into him

- Literally whimpers at how you'd continue to make him feel every inch of you and how he notices when he praises you more you'd go harsher on him which he enjoys

- When he dominates more he enjoyed how you grip onto him crying and thanking him. He enjoyed your panting and your eyes rolling back while you clinged to him

- “T-there yes Good job baby NGH~ Right there your so good ”

- would chuckle at how you’d thank him for making you feel so good and being lovely

- when done you with your Uhm… Stuff he would go clean you up and change you to your PJs and would go clean himself after

- You two soon talk about random things sometimes plan and see when you two are free to go on an date.

Branch

- Him and Clay are touched starve mother fuckers like DAMN?!

- MAN WAS LEFT ALONE FOR 20 YEARS

- he'd show you affection in private but not in public actually if he's jealous he'd hold your waist tightly glaring at anybody! - He show's affections holding your hand or holding your waist tightly

- He loves cupping your face as you cuddle which made you smile.

- You two obviously cuddle together as he holds you tight while you nuzzle into his shoulder tiredly while hearing your giggling makes him smile softly

- Get's abit overprotective if someone else tries to touch and show you affection but he knows your loyal. His love languages includes acts of service, gift giving and physical affection.

- He makes sure your happy with yourself and happy around him even if your sad or annoyed he'd walk over and hold you close

- TIME FOR THE DEED TIMEEEE!

- This man you cannot tell me is a switch but leans more into the dominant side of things!

- When doing the deed he'd make sure your comfy while letting himself slam in and out of you repeatdly

- When he grunts and whispers praises in your ear he enjoys how you become louder and you drool on the sheets of the bed while whining

- "You can't seem to st- Ah~ Stop enjoying what im Ngh~ Doing. Are you m-my love?"

- When finishing doing the deed he's amazing in after care. Would say how amazing you did while cleaning you up

- he stayed by your side giving you all of the peace and comfort he could give you after doing the deed

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[iboatedhere]

Thank you @cha-melodius @blueeyedgrlwrites @porcelainmortal & @suseagull04 for the tags!

—

Claremont’s Farm and Garden is the third garden center that pops up on Google.

It’s also the only one that’s open early on Sunday, when Henry’s insomnia has kept him up all night and he’s sick with lying in bed, pretending he’s going to get some rest.

There are only a few cars in the lot when his Uber drops him off and he double checks the time on his phone, hesitant to go in.

“You plannin’ on joining us, or are you going to stand in the parking lot all day?”

Henry looks up at a man no older than himself, watering a table filled with small, white flowers. He’s wearing a loose pair of khaki cargo shorts, a blue t-shirt with Claremont printed across the front and framed with yellow roses, and a straw cowboy hat.

“So, are you in or out?”

“I was double checking that you were open.”

“Oh shit,” he says with a laugh. “That’s not an accent that we hear everyday. You come all the way from England just to see us, because I know our Instagram posts have been doing numbers since I took over the account but I didn’t think they had that much pull.”

“Not quite.”

“All right then, what are you here for?”

“Well,” Henry starts. My long distance boyfriend broke up with me and the African Violet he gave me before I left London broke up with me as well and the woman my best mate hooked up with suggested a succulent because they’re easier to keep alive and I am so very lost—also, would you like to marry me?

The man raises his brows and Henry nods.

“Plants.”

“You came to the right place, then,” he says as he gestures at the hundreds of plants that surround him. “Anything specific?”

“Succulents. If you have them.”

“If we have them?” He says with another laugh as he shuts the hose off. “Hell yeah we have them. Probably more than you’ve ever seen. C’mon,” he says with a wave. “Follow me.”

Henry jogs to catch up, nearly tripping over the hose at the same time the man points down at it and tells him to “watch out for that.”

—

Tagging: @piratefalls @sophie1973 @luainthewild @anincompletelist & @henryspearl

[sallowtheories]

What does Sebastian’s name mean, and what does it say about his character?

In this post I will take a look at Sebastian Sallow’s name, and see what information we can obtain from it. We will first take a look at his first name, and see what the name Sebastian can tell us about his character. We will then look at his surname, and see where that can lead us, followed by a name pattern and character traits that I’ve spotted within Sebastian and other Harry Potter characters.

I decided to look up some of the names from Hogwarts Legacy, because from a storytelling perspective, there’s usually always a reason for characters to be named a certain way. And in the Harry Potter universe, people are certainly named for a reason. It has been proven again and again with Harry Potter characters, 

Being that Sebastian Sallow is my favorite Hogwarts Legacy character, I firmly believe that his character has so much more to offer in the overall Hogwarts Legacy story, along with the possible upcoming second game. And with his character being added til Quidditch, he is most definitely made to be remembered and make an impact.

The name Sebastian is of Greek origin from the word sebastos meaning ”venerable” or ”revered”. And me, having English as my second language, I decided to check up on what these words meant.

I must admit, that when I first read “respected”, I had a small chuckle. Not because I don’t believe Sebastain is respected, because trust me, he is - it was because of how fitting it was. Sebastian’s character has just been added to another Harry Potter game (Quidditch Champions) not too long ago, and it is pretty much impossible to Google Hogwarts Legacy, without his face and name popping up everywhere. But it also speaks to how he is viewed, within the world of Hogwarts Legacy.

When I first played Hogwarts Legacy, I didn’t choose to go to Hogsmeade with Sebastian. I am a true Gryffindor, and therefore decided to go with Natty, as that just made more sense to me. But during my second gameplay as a Ravenclaw, I decided to go with Sebastian, and that was when I noticed how the teachers spoke of him - with much revere. Many of the teachers express in some sort of way that they are impressed with Sebastain and his abilities. Now, this could also be because many of the teachers at Hogwarts most likely knew his parents, and have noticed qualities in him that they used to have as well. But they all also express some sort of sadness, as it seems like many have noticed a shift within Sebastian after Anne got cursed. They use expressions such as; “I fear his mind is elsewhere”. Now, I have a whole idea of what the teachers may be sensing within Sebastian, but that’s a theory for another day. What is important to focus on is that the teachers consider Sebastian a bright and gifted student, and whatever he is going through, is not “normal” for him.

It is not only the teachers that consider Sebastian gifted or have respect for him. Lucan even tells the MC, that if Sebastian told them about Cross Wands, they must really be good. Now, as many of you may have noticed, people talk about you and Sebastain when you wander around Hogwarts, and so in Feldcroft. These comments either show admiration for Sebastian’s abilities, or maybe even a tiny bit of jealousy. Now, these traits make me think of a few other specific characters, but I’m getting ahead of myself. For now, let us look at Sebastian’s last name.

First we need to figure out what the word “sallow” means, and I found some quick answers.

When I first read “grayish greenish yellow color”, I must admit, I didn’t find it very flattering. All though, I have to say it’s a fitting name for what we see of the Sallows in the game. It perfectly describes the color of Anne’s skin after she has been cursed, and does give this vibe of sickness and disease. During my research, I also found that people pointed to how the name was fitting when it comes to Sebastian’s goal to find a cure for his sister, which slowly turns into a slow and sickening descent into dark magic.

However, as many may already have noticed, there’s another meaning to the name Sallow. Sallow is a form of three - a type of willow tree. I’ve already seen many people theorise that Sebastian’s wand wood may be willow, which would make a lot of sense. According to Pottermore, this is what Ollivander had to say about willow wands:

It is fitting that Sebastian, who tries to find a cure for his sister, would have a wand of wood with healing powers. However, the fact that this is a wand wood that often matches up with an owner with some sort of insecurity, is overly fascinating to me. Sebastian comes across as very charming and very confident, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was hiding some sort of (unwarranted) insecurity. His home life was far from the best with his strained relationship with his uncle, and how knows how Sebastian might have viewed himself. However, the part of Ollivander’s description that fascinated me the most, is this: “(...) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential (...). It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow”. This speaks volumes to Sebastian’s character, along with my firm belief that he will continue to play an interesting part in the Hogwarts Legacy universe, and maybe even the Harry Potter universe itself. With a wand of willow (known to be rare), I decided to take a look at other known characters with willow wood wands, and I was honestly quite surprised. Known owners of willow wands are characters such as Lily J. Potter, Ron Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy - all very important characters for the Harry Potter universe or the stories in which they’re mentioned.

Returning to Sebastian Sallow’s name, I noticed a name pattern seen in a few other Harry Potter characters. Sebastian is one of only four own characters in the Harry Potter universe, who has the initials S.S. The other four being Stan Shunpike, Severus Snape and of course Salazar Slytherin. It is unknown what house Stan Shunpike was sorted into, but it wouldn’t be too strange if he too was a Slytherin. With that being said, all four have more than just their house in common. All four have had run-ins or dived into Dark Magic. Stan Shunpike was sent to Azkaban, after he claimed he had inside information on the Death Eaters, and would at one point join/help the Death Eaters, though it was suspected to be under the Imperius Curse. We all know the story of Severus Snape, and there’s no need to explain Salazar Slytherin. All four of these characters have an important impact on the story that they are a part of, and are continuously returning, and I have a feeling that Sebastian Sallow will do so as well.

With all these things combined, just from looking at Sebastian Sallow’s, I fully firmly believe that we will see more of him in the upcoming second edition of Hogwarts Legacy, in which he once again will play an important part to the story. And as many of you may already have noticed, I believe that Sebastian is more than just a main B character in a Harry Potter game. I believe that he has an important role to play in the upcoming story, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he may be tied to Tom Riddle in more ways than just being a Slytherin and friends with one of Voldemort’s blood relatives. But that’s a theory for another time.

[strawbeerossi]

I seen that you write angst and I have an idea to share with you because of some personal things that I went through with my own family.

Do you think you can write something about fem!reader and Spencer finding out that one of their children has leukemia? Maybe with death involved to show how intricate this situation can affect families? I know it’s a very loaded topic so I completely understand if you don’t wanna do it but I think you’d master the topic beautifully based off of your angst writing. ❤️

I hope you’re doing alright today, Tay

First off, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovebug. I hope I do this justice and thank you for trusting me with this topic. My DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 🩵

And I'm good today, thank you, honey.

Vilomah: Bereaved Parents

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After their son succumbs to his illness, the Reid parents have to navigate the grieving process together along with the team who are there to help.

Content Warning: Child death, leukemia, details about a hospital stay, extreme grief after loss, a child’s funeral, parental grief, mentions struggles with eating, spousal argument, lots of tears, descriptions of feeling empty and depression, the team is there for the Reids, spousal comfort, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 3.3K

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I cried like a baby writing this. I hope I captured what you were looking for anon.

“Memories saturate my heart and the story of you spills from my eyes.” – Grace Andren

There were many horrors that Spencer faced in his line of work; murderers, rapists, cannibals, the lot of it. He was also faced with grief more often than not, losing Maeve and Gideon being the two most notable times where he was forced to face the fact that everybody dies at some point, no matter who they are. 

That wasn’t enough to prepare him for the cruelest thing life had to throw at him. Benjamin was diagnosed with leukemia when he was just two months shy of four-years-old, more specifically it was Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. 

The first few months were seemingly okay. He was responding well with the treatment, his little body growing stronger with each passing day. There were plenty of ice cream days to celebrate whenever Ben could function as good as he could before the cancer. Not to mention all the gifts his aunt Penelope would send.

There was hope, so much hope that Y/N and Spencer didn’t let the thoughts of losing their son loom over their head.

That was until he got sick again, this time much worse. It happened suddenly, Ben went from eating some fruit snacks and watching a movie to losing consciousness and growing pale. Spencer never thought he could get home faster than what he did when he got the phone call. Emily sent him home immediately after hearing the news, telling him to get home to his family and that she would check in.

The next few weeks were spent in the hospital, the bright lights being harsh on the eyes of the sore eyes of the Reid parents. Y/N didn’t sleep but for a few hours a night, any small movement or sound from Ben or his machines waking her up. Spencer had grown to not sleep for that long, surviving off maybe an hour a night and ten cups of coffee to push forward the following morning.

However, the suffocating realization of the inevitable was starting to soak in. Spencer wanted nothing more than for his son to make a recovery but as a man of science, that hope dissipated as he noticed the signs. People got better before death, so whenever Ben was showing all the signs of surging, it was enough to kill Spencer.

Even after they had a conversation with their doctor, the woman telling them that surging typically happens one to two days before death, it was like Y/N wouldn’t take that. She would say that he was fine, that he was healing. 

It was denial. 

The day they lost him was the hardest of them all. The air was suffocating that morning, there being a bitter winter chill. Spencer had gone to work, as usual. There was a case, one about a man who was killing women who resembled his birth mother after she rejected him from her life. He was distracted, like any father on the verge of losing his child would be.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to work but he was losing his mind, being overwhelmed with the knowledge of the inevitable. He liked to think that if he and Y/N didn’t discuss it, it wasn’t real. As a man of science, he knew the risks of believing something like that.

Still, he gave himself false hope. 

However, his heart stopped beating for a split second as he could feel his phone buzzing, the world freezing around him as he couldn’t hear the others around him. He knew what this call was. It took JJ shaking Spencer’s shoulders to snap him out of his thoughts. “I have to go.” 

Making it to the hospital, he dreaded going inside. However, he was running through the hospital doors not bothering to check in at the front desk as he was going as fast as his legs could carry him to reach his son’s hospital room. 

Judging by the heart wrenching screams of agony from his wife on the other side of the door, Spencer knew what to expect as his shaking hand was opening the hospital door. The sight of his wife cradling their son was enough to make him drop to his knees. 

The nurses and doctors looked at the small family, feeling the sting of heartache as they’d gotten to know the Reid’s over the past year.

Spencer’s legs were like jelly, the tears cascading his face being enough where he was sure he could fill up the hospital room in tears, enough to drown in. They were able to stay as long as they wanted to, even if it was hours later. 

“Do you have his blanket?” Y/N asked, voice raw from the screaming and uncontrollable sobbing from before. “I don’t want him to get cold..” She whispered, looking at their son who looked like he was sleeping against his father’s chest. “In the bag.” The words were shaky, the father keeping his son close while letting his forehead rest against Benjamin’s smaller one.

After they were laying the little boy down again, Y/N was slowly putting the blanket over the child before she was leaning down to kiss his forehead, which had begun to grow cold from the hours his parents took to say goodbye. The parents clung to one another as they were being forced to walk out of the hospital. 

After that, their life lost all its color. Waking up to an alarm rather than to a happy little boy jumping on their bed just wasn’t the same. There was no laughter in the house, no warmth. The atmosphere was just as cold as the weather outside. No matter how many days that Penelope came over with baskets filled with small goodies to try and lift their spirits, or how Luke would come by to check in and bring food over that the two parents just couldn’t stomach.

The day of the funeral was when every ounce of denial was fizzing away. Next came anger. Y/N was moving a bit slow, honestly not wanting to rush and be greeted with the sad looks of their friends and family. Spencer was ready twenty minutes prior, wanting to rush the grieving process and just accept everything immediately, even if it was impossible.

“Please hurry up.” His voice was laced with irritation, making wife look up from her shoes as she was playing with the strap. “I am hurrying..” She spoke softly, a frown on her face as she slowly got the shoes on. “You don’t have to have an attitude, by the way.” 

That was the start of something ugly.

“Well, you don’t have to take thirty years and expect Benji to walk through the door.” The words were deep cutting, very uncharacteristic of the loving man she married.The words had his wife stunned in place, her mouth falling open. “You don’t have to be an asshole and keep reminding me of where we are going.” She spat, moving to brush her hair back before standing.

“You can’t keep acting like things are going to change. He’s gone, Y/N. No matter how bad we want him back, we will never get him back.” They were growing angry at one another at the wrong time. Before the yelling could start, there was a soft knock on the door. With a soft sigh, Spencer was turning around and heading to the sound of the soft knocking. 

The sight behind the door was enough to make his heart clench. There was Derek, the man offering a sad smile. “Hey, kid. I came to pick you two up. How’s the missus doing?” He asked, chuckling as Spencer was rushing to tightly hug his best friend, his hand slowly patting the younger male’s back. “Hi Derek.” Y/N offered a weak smile once she was closing the bedroom door. 

“Hey mama.” His voice was soft and careful, heading over to wrap his arms around the woman before kissing her cheek. “I was thinking that after everything, we could all go out to lunch.” He wasn’t stupid, he could tell that the two parents were neglecting themselves, he’d talked to the team. 

This was a sensitive time, so he understood. However, he wasn’t going to sit idly by either. He’d be damned if he let them both slowly waste away. Benjamin sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted that. 

“I don’t know, Derek. I don’t think I can deal with everyone looking at us with pity. You know how many people have told me that they hugged their babies tighter because of this situation? It hurts. Not nearly as helpful as people think..” The woman spoke while slowly rubbing her face.

“It’ll just be us. The team, our family.” He attempted to coax both parents, the two not being able to get out of it in the end.

The three eventually made it to the graveyard where they were confronting the one thing that they didn’t want to face. The Reids were approaching the plot that they’d purchased for the family, Y/N having to collect herself at the sight of the coffin waiting by the open plot. 

“There you two are,” Penelope looked like she’d been sobbing already, her arms wrapping tightly around both parents. That was where the floodgates broke, both of them tightly clutching onto the blonde enough to suffocate her. 

The ceremony was beautiful, despite the flood of tears and pain deep in the chests of all that were closest to the child who they were laying to rest. It was something honorable, Benji even having his uncle Aaron there to say a final goodbye. Even surrounded by love, there was still an emptiness, a void that would never be filled. 

What came next made things worse, the parents having to say goodbye as soon as the casket was being lowered in its plot, Y/N and Spencer wrapped up in one another’s embrace while their hands were clutching each other’s clothing. The wife was letting her head rest against her husband’s shoulder, their tears soaking one another’s clothes and hair.

It was just them now, with the ghost of their sweet angel who would keep a watchful eye over his parents, whether they knew it or not.

Dave was approaching the parents, his hand resting on Spencer’s shoulder as he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “I want you both to know that I will be here for you both, always.” David Rossi, the father of the team, it seemed. As well as being uncle Dave to all the kids, Benji included. 

“I heard that you two agreed to come to lunch.” He spoke softly, eliciting a small smile from Y/N. “We are.” She said softly, truly unable to say no to him. “We are having it in my backyard. Why don’t you two ride with me?” He suggested, making both Spencer and his wife look at one another.

They weren't getting out of this, so they complied and followed behind David.

The only problem was that so many amazing things happened in that backyard, Benji’s baby shower being one of them.

“Baby Reid is getting so big,” JJ gushed, her hand on Y/N’s swollen bump as the woman laughed in content. “Isn’t he? He’s also been kicking the hell out of my ribs, I feel like he's punishing me.” Y/N joked.

Finding out that she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened. Of course, there were jokes of Spencer and Y/N not even waiting a year after they got married before she was already pregnant.

It was funny, really. Spencer was highly convinced that the baby was conceived on the first week of their honeymoon, the two being a little too into that talk while they were in the middle of sex, the filthy words of her being swollen with his baby becoming literal.

Diana was thrilled the moment that she saw her son and his wife on one of their visits, the woman being more thrilled at the prospect of her little Spencer having a child of his own. She would say that she knew before they even told her. 

“Mothers always know, Spencer. We are animals, we can feel things.” Were her exact words, something that she said Y/N would understand one day.

“Bella!” David smiled, the term of endearment being a newer one that he used for Y/N after the pregnancy, something about how she looked gorgeous because she was glowing. It was sweet, she had to admit it. “Hi, David.” Y/N grinned, her arms wrapping around the older man in a hug before she was pulling away. “You and Penelope did a beautiful job, by the way!”

Almost as if she were summoned, the bubbly blonde was hurrying over to flash a smile. “There you are my gorgeous girl! How are you feeling?” She asked, her hand cautiously rubbing her baby bump once Y/N gave her the okay.

“I’m doing good, actually. This boy is gonna be the death of me though. I was craving dirt the other day.” Her nose crinkled. “Weirdness. However, this baby is a Reid so that’ll explain it better than anything else.” Penelope joked. 

“It’s actually more normal than you might think. One theory links pica cravings to iron deficiencies. Another theory suggests these cravings develop as an adaptive response to the way the immune system changes during pregnancy.” Spencer smiled while letting his arms wrap around his wife from behind, his lips pressing a kiss to her cheek before his hands were coming underneath the heavy bump, lifting it up gently to take some of the pain from his wife’s back.

It was enough to make the woman sigh of relief as her head was tilted back against his shoulder. “You are such a lifesaver.” She breathed while briefly closing her eyes. 

Spencer was attentive and loving, paying attention to her much more after the pregnancy was discovered.

This was a dream.

This was a nightmare, the memories rushing back to Y/N as she was walking into the backyard where all those sweet memories lived. It was emotionally draining, so much so that her hand was reaching aimlessly for Spencer’s.

As soon as her husband realized what she was doing, he was slowly approaching his wife and letting his hand tightly grip onto hers. He didn’t realize how bad they needed this, to have a reminder that they still had each other. He figured it was implied but this made a bit of weight lift off his chest. 

“I know it may be a bit hard to laugh right now,” Penelope began as she was offering a smile. “But I know how much Benji used to love having dinner with all of us, no matter where we went.” She began, making a soft, sad smile spreading across Y/N’s face. 

“So, I figured that I would honor one of my favorite godson’s in the best way possible. Instead of boring adult food, I made extra sure to get the best of the best.” Being a four-year-old, Benjamin was just as picky as the next kid. 

“Don’t tell me,” Spencer began, looking over as she was happily showing off the meal she had catered. It consisted of all the essential food groups of a young child; chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and french fries. 

Hank, Michael, Henry, the Simmons children and Jack were all over the idea of that. The adults, though, couldn’t help the soft laughter. “Benji would definitely approve.” Y/N offered a soft smile, shaking her head fondly. “Even up until the end, he had to have his nuggets.” Spencer added, a few tears springing up in his eyes at the pleasant memory, even in the darkest time of their lives.

“I don’t want that..” Benjamin wrinkled his nose as he was pushing away the soup that the hospital was giving him, making Spencer look up from his book. “It’s good for you, Benji. Try it.” He urged on, a smile as he put the book down after finding his bookmark. 

“Daddy, no. It’s yucky. It smells yucky.” He continued on, the four year old running the spoon through the bowl.

Like his mother, he was dramatic about it, gagging at the mere thought of eating what he was given. “I want chicken nuggets.” He whined out, now looking at his mother, who was sighing in content. 

“Take a few bites and try it! If you try it and you don’t like it, I’ll go get you some nuggets. Sounds fair?” She asked, keeping the stern tone yet offering a sweet smile, knowing damn well that he’d get his way in the end anyway. Even if he liked the soup.

“I’ll try it but I might be sick, mama.” He warned, looking at the broth with vegetables before he was taking a good amount on the spoon.

He eyed it over before pushing it into his mouth. Both parents couldn’t help the laughter falling from their lips as Benji pulled a face, looking offended he was even made to try it.

“Blegh! Nasty!” The animated child was pushing the tray table away as Y/N was already getting up to grab her keys. “I’m going! I’m going! Make sure that you watch your daddy, you know he likes getting into too much trouble.” 

As everyone had a plate in front of them, everyone was looking at the Reids, expectant of them to get up. Derek was the one who was already making two plates before placing them down in front of the two. “There you are pretty boy and pretty girl, no need to get up.” He knew what he was doing.

Even with the lack of appetite, Y/N was slowly picking up her fork before collecting a bit of the mac and cheese on her fork, slowly moving to push the fork in her mouth. She didn’t realize just how hungry she was before that bite. Of course, barely eating for two weeks would do that to you.

Spencer seemed to be on the same page, the two unknowingly eating like they hadn’t eaten in years. The group said nothing about it, although they shared collective glances and their eyes were glistening over with relief. 

They were eating enough to actually keep themselves alive, to keep themselves from falling ill and being stuck in the hospital being fed through IVs. After all they went through, they didn’t need to be in another hospital for a long time.

The rest of the day was spent with their family rather than them being locked up at home, real smiles gracing their features for the first time in forever. Being together in a quiet home was taking a huge hit at their mental health. 

This was what they needed. Their full support system. 

It was later on in the evening before Y/N and Spencer had gotten home, the two ordering takeout for dinner whenever they arrived at home. The wife was looking over the picture of their family that she had hanging up in the kitchen, a soft smile on her face. He looked so peaceful today, didn’t he?” She asked, her voice soft.

“No more pain, no more weakness.. Just peaceful.” Spencer added on, looking up from his hands. “Y/N.. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It was horrible to say,” He said as his wife was offering a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s hard right now but.. Spencer, I love you. With every fiber of my being. Please remember that.”

It was what he needed to hear, his head nodding. “I know. I love you so much, baby. Thank you. I’m here for you, even if you just need to cry and be taken care of.” The taller man was standing up before heading over to tightly hug his wife. “You’re so strong. So fucking strong.” He spoke softly while kissing the top of her head. 

All they needed to power through this together was each other, they would make it through this for Benji over all else. It was what he would've wanted , their love to persevere. 

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Crush On An Archer PT.1

a/n: Hey! Omg long time no see! I kinda maybe lost interest in writing for a bit there but tbh I think I'm back. No promises because I don't want to promise and then break your hearts but also I realllyyyy enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it! Will def be making a part two in coming days so stay tuned. LMK if you want to be added to the taglist, I am going to put some tags of past taglists below just in case they are interested in reading :) ALSO! Special shout out to @scmg11 because their writing is honestly what made me wanna get back into it. So,,I hope you enjoy!

Kate X Fem!Reader

Concept: Reader has a crush on Kate (school/Uni setting) and she doesn't know how to tell her.

Warning: Cussing, mentions of smut, IM TRYING TO WRITE SLOW BURN BUT BEAR WITH ME ITS NEW!

Word Count: 2.7k

You’re a month into your summer vacation and things couldn’t be more…boring. You love and appreciate your parents dearly for putting out the money so that you could attend a prestigious school in New York with a kick ass archery team but does it ever suck to be this far from all your friends for four months. To make the situation work, your dad had to transfer jobs to another state that pulls in a little more money annually with slightly more affordable housing but that means you aren’t even near the people you grew up around. Rural Mississippi is a fairly big step from living in Boston. Boston at least had people, out here it’s like you’re lucky if you get to meet a neighbour because the land has us all so far apart. In all honesty, although it’s boring, you really have one specific reason for being so bummed out. Towards the end of your last semester, you got started getting closer with one of the girls a year younger on your team, Kate. Typically the older girls competed and practised together and the younger girls did the same. Although you two were only a year apart it’s just how things worked out, so you didn’t cross paths very often. However, one day you were walking home from class, stopped to get coffee and basically bumped into her. The meeting was really brief but it was enough to make you catch feelings almost instantly. 

Your interest in her grew as you followed her on Instagram and she followed back. Obviously you took a peak at her page and scrolled to the bottom laughing at the really cringey posts from 2015 she had still up. All you wanted to do was talk to her again but you didn’t know how, although she was a year younger than you she intimidated you so much. Her deep blue eyes were honestly enough to make you stutter whenever you had the chance to talk to her. A month had gone by already and you could not wait to get back to school so you could see her again. Luckily, coach has yearly “team-building” days before the season starts and they’re about half way through the summer so hopefully you can talk to her before then and maybe convince her to hang out when you come back to school. 

Over the next week or so you liked a few story posts that she’d upload every now and again but the day finally came where you felt like you could swipe up and respond to it…y’know…maybe spark a little conversation. 

“Damn Bishop, is this a new bow?” In response to a story post of her showing off some of her off season training. 

“Haha yeah it is, flips out and everything…it's really freakin’ cool.” She replied almost instantly and that made a giant warm smile come across your face. 

Shit– what do you say back? Your main goal was honestly to keep the convo going so you could subtly mention down the line hanging out with her. 

“Yeah that’s sick, wow I’d kill to try something like that out.”

“Well next time I see you, please by all means give it a shot” She replies back.

“Might just have to take you up on that. How’s your summer going anyways?”

“It’s alright, kind of boring though. All my friends from school move back home and I am working for my mom’s company over the summer so it all is just kind of dull. I miss going out and having fun. Wbu?”

“Yeah, I hear that. I am SO bored here. I would kill to fast forward to the fall, I miss being at school honestly. There’s only so much I can do by myself here during the summer.”

“Ugh right! I want it to be school again too but don’t get me wrong, I love the summer, the weather is great here recently and the nightlife is amazing too. I just have nobody to go with, you know.”

“Yeah I get it. Trust me, if I could be there to go out with you I would, there is definitely no nightlife here haha.”

Shit. That wasn’t too forward was it? She is taking a while to respond to you. She hasn’t even opened the message yet. 

*4 minutes later*

“Well, you’re going to be around for that team-building thing coach has us doing in a couple of weeks right?”

“Yeah, I should be.”

“Well, we can go out then if you want? Me and a few friends had plans but they’re all on the team and I’m sure they’d love to have you there too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great I’d love to!”

The conversation pretty much ended there and your contact with her was fairly limited, just a small comment here or there until you finally got to fly back to school for summer training. You settle back into the apartment you left a couple months ago, everything is still a mess where you left it but the kitchen and living room are even filthier since you are not around to clean up much after your roommates. You decided to wait until your team practice to talk to Kate about hanging out again. You didn’t want to come on too strong but also a small part of you feels like she forgot what she said months ago and you won’t end up seeing her, not outside of team stuff at least. 

You grabbed your gear and headed to the field where practice was being held. You saw some of your friends from last year and decided to catch up with them before coach pulled you all in to start practice. You were trying your best not to make it obvious but your eyes were tracking all around you looking for Kate but she was nowhere to be seen. 

*Whistle* “Okay team! Let’s bring it in. First, I just want to say thank you to everyone for making the effort to come back to campus for this, meeting I–”

“SORRY SORRY SORRY!” You hear the coach interrupted as footsteps are fast approaching the circle of archers. 

“Hi Kate.” Says coach.

“I am SO sorry. My driver was running late and then there was traffic because of a giant accident, I think there was some battle in the streets again, I don’t know, either way, my bad coach, won’t happen again…I promise.” She says with the most adorable grin that is absolutely saying she will be late again. 

“It’s alright Kate, it happens, I was just telling the team how thankful I am that everyone could make the trip back to campus for this.” Coach went on to talk about the drills you were doing for the day and man was it hard to not be in awe watching her. You tried your best not to stare all day because the last thing you wanted to do was make it obvious but fuck it felt impossible. The day came to an end and you packed up your gear, Kate was talking with the other seniors on the team as they were gathering their things and started to head out. You could feel your window closing to talk to her but interrupting her conversation with her friends and “inviting” yourself out with them just felt too weird and uncomfortable. If it wasn’t meant to be then it wasn’t meant to be but you would kill to be able to just spend an hour with her. 

You watched as she started to walk away towards the parking lot with her friends when all of a sudden she motioned for them to hold on a minute and she turned around and jogged over to you. 

“Hey y/n! Sorry we didn’t get to catch up much during practice, I saw your shooting though it’s looking good.” 

Yeah…your face is bright red. Control your shit. 

“Anyways, me and a couple friends are going out later tonight to a party that one of their friends is hosting. It’s like a Hawaiian beach summer nights themed type of party so if you have something like that to wear, that would be great.”

“Yeah, I might have something, I’ll take a look when I get home.” 

“Cool! I’ll text you the address once I get it off my friend and I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah, sounds good!” 

“Here, why don’t you put your number into my phone, I don’t like using DM’s that much.”

You take Kate’s phone out of her hand and fill out a contact for yourself, praying that she can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Cool, thanks, I’ll send you a text in a bit.” She says with a smile and then runs off to re-join her friends. 

It seems silly sitting by your phone and literally watching the minutes tick by waiting for her to text you but that’s all  you could do. The anticipation felt like it was killing you. 

Your phone finally buzzed with a mystery number attached, “Hey y/n! It’s Kate. So…slight change of plans.”

Fuck. Is she bailing? Your eyes were glued on the three dots as she typed and you watched as they disappeared and reappeared. 

“Turns out the party is actually around the corner from my place so if you wanted to just come here first, we could pre-game and shit and then walk over together? My friends said they were going out to get their hair done so they’ll be running late.”

“Hey Kate, yeah no problem that works for me just send me your address and lmk what time you want me there.”

Kate dropped a pin of her location to you with the text attached telling you to come over at 7pm. 

7pm rolled around and you were already there outside but you kind of felt like you should wait another minute or two so you weren’t RIGHT on time. Or is it weird to be a minute late? But wouldn’t being on time be weirder? Whatever, you decided to just wait a minute and then knock on her door. 

Knocking on her door was the most nerve wracking thing you ever did, you were genuinely shitting bricks. 

“HEY! Come in come in!” Kate eagerly yells at you as she swings the door open. She’s wearing shorts with a bright purple bikini top and a button down Hawaiian shirt over top that doesn’t have a single button done up. Are you starring? Yes. Probably? Absolutely you are. 

“Make yourself at home, feel free to grab a drink from the fridge, my roommates are out of town and left all their alcohol so help yourself.” She said with a laugh. 

You heard that right? Her roommates are out of town. Just the two of you…you never know. 

You grabbed a drink from the fridge and took a seat on the couch next to her and yeah…the drink started going down faster than usual because of all the nerves in your stomach. The two of you made small talk for awhile but the conversation started flowing a little more naturally about 2 drinks in. Were you still kind of awkward as hell? Yeah…a little. But at least you warmed up to her a bit and weren’t acting so weird. About an hour later, her friends showed up and grabbed you guys to head over to the party. Honestly, things were going so well with just the two of you that you didn’t even want to go to this party but if it meant you got to spend more time with her then there you were. You got to the party and you honestly knew practically nobody. You weren’t exactly a social butterfly but Kate clearly was. She was talking to EVERYBODY. The boys at the party especially loved her. There was lots of laughing and flirting going on, you could feel the jealousy building but acting out was definitely not an option. You ended up socialising with a few of the other people at the party but for most of the night you stuck by Kate’s side, the two of you got pretty drunk together, pouring shots for one another and dancing in the pit of people to extremely loud music. There was a point where it felt like it was just you and her and nobody else was there while the music was blasting into your ears and the two of you were jumping together to the beat and singing out the lyrics to whatever song was on at the time. Kate got really close to you until some guy would come and pull her away in an attempt to make a move on her. Although, it never actually happened. Kate always ended up finding her way back to you. At one point she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the middle of the crowd as the two of you sang (screamed) the lyrics to “love story” into each other's faces. The party, as all do, started to simmer down. You guys actually ended up being some of the last people at the party, you stuck around to the point where the music was gone and most people were just sitting around chatting halfway sober. 

“Hey, I think I’m going to go home, I am super tired right now.” Kate says to you. 

“Okay, I’ll walk with you, I left my bag at your place anyways so I have to grab it.” 

“Right, sounds good.” 

Although the two of you had been singing and dancing for hours, she looked just as perfect as when you left and you were trying your hardest not to stare at her while the two of you were walking side-by-side. 

The walk back to her place was pretty quick, when the two of you got inside you went to grab your bag and get your things together. You were desperately trying to figure out what to say to her while you were organising your stuff. You didn’t want to come on too strong but you also want to make sure that she knows you had a good time…I guess just tell her exactly that?

“I had a really good time tonight, thanks again for inviting me.” You say as you’re leaning against the wall in her hallway. 

“Of course, anytime. And I did too. We should really hang out more when we come back to school.” She replies. 

Kate walks towards you and stops about a foot away leaning up against the doorframe to her bedroom. The hallway is super narrow and all you can think about is pinning her against the wall while you kiss down her neck and pull her tight by her waist. 

“Yeah I think so too. I guess I should probably head out.” You say as she looks at you with the softest eyes that you swore said “please stay”. You lingered for a second longer as the two of you were looking at each other, tired, kind of tipsy and on the verge of ripping each other's clothing off. All you wanted was for her to actually ask you to stay a little longer but before she had the chance you were already walking towards the door. 

“Have a good night y/n.” She says. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“I will. Sleep well Kate.” You reply as you turn to look at her with a smile and step out the front door. 

That goodbye felt different. It felt like there were still feelings in the air and lots that wanted to be said that wasn't. It felt like the perfect opportunity with nobody around after an amazing night together has passed but you regret none of it. Although you weren’t able to get a confirmation on whether or not Kate even likes women like you do, you knew there was definitely a type of tension between the two of you that she definitely noticed.

-- END OF PT 1 --

Taglist: @yelenaslyubov @youreatotalposer @jeyramarie @flosbelova @bridgecitybrad @justthis-stuff @chloe7076 @ailenepuff @ravenclawbitch426 @mellowladyangel @amcg0605-blog @kassies-take @yelenaswife1996 @wandanatchick @lilroachsworld @inluvwithfictionalwomen @x666hours @natashaswife4125 @onetruwhore @karmasgxrl @hopelesslyfallenninlove @setsuna1415 @swiftdazer @imobsessedwithmilfss @madamevirgo @louisprettybab @splatalia-jumpanova @jediluka @t00manyfand0ms

[kimmexart]

Hello! I saw you were asking for requests!

I have been missing our rich boy Ryusui so... could I request some fluff?

I was thinking of reader that at first didn't quite like Ryusui, but over time warmed up to him.

But no one knew how much reader warmed up to him, including Ryusui himself, until reader starts to cry and get mad at him out of worry, because you know how he usually gets petrified or in dangerous situations yes? Reader got worried sick that his statue broke into piece that might not be able to fix him.

I hope it wasn't too specific? Thank you!!!

I luv this idea i’m basing it off treasure island:))) also didn’t specify if it was romance or platonic so i tried to make it neutral and what every way you’d like. (also very rushed sorry)

———

You’d never admit, at least never to Ryusui’s face the fact you cared for him. If you had ever admit any type of feelings for him, his head would blow up even more. But now you regretted never telling him.

Your lip trembled as you stared at Ryusui well- his stone statue tied to a tree.

“Attention all!” Ibara spoke loudly, Kohaku grabbed your hand gently trying to reassure as she felt your body tremble.

“we may have intruders among us. If this stone statue is not your comrade… You will have no problems about smashing him correct?” as he spoke to the group of women- and Ginro as a lump formed in your throat.

This was a test, a test to find out who were the spies.

they forced everyone to line up “Y/n… you have to do this” Kohaku said silently as if she could feel your pain. She didn’t want to do it either but nobody had a choice “it’ll blow our cover…” you had to obey to prove yourself to ibara.

You walked up to the already shattered statue of ryusui, holding the spear tightly in your hands. forcing down the fact you cared for him- the fact you considered him a friend forcing those feelings that formed in the pit of your stomach. Letting out a shakey breath you slammed it against Ryusui, your heart pounding against your chest as you heard the cracking. you couldn’t bear to look at the damage you had done to him.

You walked off turning your back against Ryusui with a fake smile, ignoring the burning sensation in your eyes and the worried glanced your friends gave you.

———

Your stone statue stood in front of Ryusui- he had his stupid smirk on his face as he poured the revival fluid on your head. Everyone had practically been helped from the stone but you and Ginro so it was only the two of you on land while everyone else was working on their own duties.

He ignored the blood on your shredded dress- the blood from your previous injures you had received from your fight with Ibara. he knew you’d be fine but he couldn’t help but worry about what you been through.

the fluid began to take as the stone began to crack and shatter from your body. Your legs gave out underneath you, ryusui held you gently.

squinting up at him at the sudden light filling your eyes, “Ryusui!” you exclaimed loudly and he held you in his arms. Ryusui was relieved by the sound of your voice as he pulled you into a hug.

“Hey Y/n, didn’t think you’d be excited to see me” He teased with a chuckle, it felt good to feel his chest beating. You tried to ignore the tears pooling from your eyes hitting his shoulder.

he stopped as he felt the sudden wetness against his shoulder, He was worried about hurting you as if your body would shatter if he held you to tightly.

“Y/n-?”

“i thought you died” your voice cracked against his chest, his lips quirked into a small frown as his fingers tangled into your hair “im so sorry, i had to Shatter you- I had to make sure our cover wasn’t blown-“ you began to mutter into his shoulder.

Ryusui pulled away gently, you thought he’d be mad- angry with you but no. He cupped your cheek gently his thumb gently brushing the tears away from the corner of your eyes, he gave you a soft smile

“i’m okay” he said gently, which caused even more tears to stream down your cheek.

“i thought i killed you! i thought there was nothing we could do!” You sobbed into his hand.

he brushed away your tears letting out another chuckle “Don’t cry, I’m alright- your alright that’s all that matters” he said softly pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you calmed down underneath his touch “you know i care for you right?” you sniffled “i- i felt so stupid for not telling you sooner i regretted not telling you the moment i saw your stature infront of me”

He grinned “of course you do, everyone loves me” he teased softly “and like everyone i care about you to” his voice soften “maybe i care about you more then anyone else”

Your heart throbbed at the sound of his voice, you looked at him with a soft smile as you relaxed. he pulled you into a hug as the two of you stood in the comfortable silence in one another’s arms.

Kohaku and Gen grinned from the bushes as they watched the scene unfold “I told you it would work” Gen whispered “sending him to revive her was the best choice. i’m so cupid”

[dani-ya-dig]

Ok now that I’m fully awake. It’s time try and organize my thoughts on that audio oh my god.

Also trigger warning for mentions of suicide under the cut

That’s actually the first thing I wanna talk about, and is the only gripe I have with the entire video. Why the fuck wasn’t mentions of suicide tagged in the description??

Like I understand the concept wasn’t dwelled on and Sam didn’t outright say “I’m gonna fucking kill myself” but he PRETTY EXPLICITLY talked about how he planned to commit suicide even if he didn’t say those words. idk “chosen morality” doesn’t seem like the right warning for that? I’m not gonna complain abt it like too much, I just was a little confused on why it wasn’t tagged.

But anyways onto my jumbled up thoughts about the actual audio! Because as a member of the Sam Collins fandom, I have thoughttsssssss!!

THIS AUDIO MADE ME SOB! I couldn’t sleep because of how sad I was over it. Sam and Darlin need to be happy just for fucking ONCE, god give them a BREAKKKKKK.

The idea of them just silently holding each other on their roof with the night sky above them, a few tears probably falling from both of them. IM DUHXSJDIJFDJFHFHJ

AND MOTHERFUCKER THE VIDEO ENDING ON “Brown. My eyes were brown” I FELL TO THE FLOOR SHUT THE FUCK UP!

On a happier note about that, I KNEW Sam’s eyes were brown. I feel like almost everyone did tbh. I’ll tell you what gave it away though, the gentle way he says “please” to Darlin in some of his audios. Automatically gave it away that he would have had the biggest brown puppy dog eyes you have ever seen in your life. I’m physically sick over it, it’s not even funny.

Now back to the thing I desperately don’t wanna think about. Sam telling Darlin that he wasn’t planning on living forever.

That’s where the dam broke for me, I started bawling. It totally makes sense, I get it and I can’t say that it’s not a choice that makes sense given that Sam never wanted to be a vampire in the first place.

Do y’all think that he was planning to watch the sunrise on his roof? Because that was my first thought and it hurt real bad. Sam finally getting to feel the sunlight after so many years of having been deprived of it, only to be ash when the sun was fully in the sky.

Also I know damn well he probably would have done it after Darlin died and that’s what hurts so bad. If Darlin chose to be a vampire I think he would happily spend however long their eternity would be by their side, but once they were gone he probably wouldn’t feel a reason to stay. Especially because if Darlin turned into a vampire the two of them probably would have completely pulled away from all mortals before that would happen.

On that note, I don’t think Darlin is gonna want to be turned. I never really thought they would, unless they were under very specific circumstances. Sam telling them to spend time in their wolf form and with their pack before deciding solidified that for me 100%. I don’t think they would be able to lose their wolf which we know is a pretty big part of shifters, talking from Milo’s audio where he breaks down worried he was never going to be able to shift again. I don’t think they would be okay with the idea of watching their friends, and their family all start to wither away and eventually die while they remain.

Now, do I think Darlin is going to want to be turned? No. Do I think the dynamic of Darlin choosing to remain mortal opens a lot of really good angst possibilities? Yes. Do I fully trust Erik to not turn them anyways? Not really no.

If I had to put a bet in for how it would happen if Darlin got turned, it would be by Quinn. Quinn would find out or catch wind of the fact that they chose not to be turned (if he didn’t already know they would chose that) and turn them anyways just to hurt them.

(I think Alexis turning them is an interesting idea to think about, from any angle but I highly doubt that’s gonna happen lmao)

All in all I genuinely think that was the only audio that has affected me that much (aside from maybe listening to the inversion for the first time??)

[ilikereadings]

Nighttime Comfort

Summary: Bradley wakes up in a sweat after a nightmare about Mav getting shot down and you comfort him

Warnings: nightmares/flashbacks, crying, angst(?), fluff, use of Y/N

Words: 1460

❗️I wrote this all myself please don’t repost❗️

——————————————————————————-

The dagger squad got back from the uranium enrichment mission just over a month ago. Bradley was back at work only a week after he got back home. During these 4 weeks, Bradley has been having dreadful nightmares and flashbacks about the mission. You’ve only woken up to one of them, and he told you everything was okay and it was just a weird dream. You believed him and haven’t noticed anything weird since. Not until the other morning, when you came upstairs with his cup of coffee.

——————————————————————————-

Every Saturday morning since Bradley got back from his mission, you have made breakfast in bed for the two of you. This morning was no different. When you went downstairs to get the mugs of coffee, Bradley was slowly waking up but wasn’t fully awake. You had given him a kiss on the head before heading down. But when you came back up, you found him curled up on his side, wide awake but looking terrified as ever. You quickly put the mugs down on his side table and knelt down on the floor by his side of the bed. His fist was tightly gripping the duvet, and he was very tense.

"Bradley?!" Bradley, are you okay? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me, please." You frantically ask him.

He blinks a few times before loosening his grip on the duvet. You can see his muscles relax as he takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. You sat in silence for a minute. During that time, you reached your hand over to hold his, intertwining your fingers.

"I, uh.." he began, clearing his throat. "I didn’t want to scare you or make you worry. I’m sorry, Y/N." Bradley continued.

He sounded so sad and guilty. You weren’t sure why, though.

“Baby, what do you mean?" You asked.

"Ever since the mission.. I, I’ve been having some, uh, nightmares and flashbacks."

He paused.

"Specifically when Mav got shot down." Looking down at where your hands meet, not wanting to meet your sorrowful eyes.

"So.. when I woke up the other night and you said it was a weird dream.. it was a nightmare?"

You felt a little hurt that he hadn’t told you, but you also fully understood why he wouldn’t want you to know. When you said that, Bradley looked into your eyes, giving you a slight nod.

"Oh Bradley.. baby.. I love you so much. I need to know these things so I can help you. It makes me feel sick that you’ve been trying to deal with this alone.. I.. I want to help Bradley."

——————————————————————————-

Ever since that morning, you’ve been more attentive during the night. Bradley has had nightmares just about every night since, and you’ve woken up to help him every time. You can tell they’re starting to get less intense as well, which is a positive sign that he’s getting better. Bradley has been more open with you, which you really appreciated.

Everything seemed to be getting better until last night. Last night was Bradley’s worst nightmare.

—————————————————————————-

Time, 11:42 PM. Bradley was having trouble falling asleep, and even though you were asleep, you knew he wasn’t. You were trying to be more aware of things like this at night ever since Bradley told you about his nightmares.

Time, 12:31 AM. Bradley had finally fallen asleep.

Time: 2:28 AM. You woke up after hearing some whimpering. As you open your eyes and look around, you see Bradley slightly shaking, his face all scrunched up like he’s stressed out about something. He whimpered more; you were able to make out some words, like "no" and "Mav", You even thought you heard a "help" mumbled in there. You didn’t know what to do or how to help him yet, so you decided to gently place your hand on his. At first he jerked his hand away, but about 30 seconds later he woke up and sat up straight so fast that you thought it would give him whiplash. He starts looking around the room, breathing heavily and eyebrows furrowed. When his eyes finally catch sight of you, he locks eyes with you, and his eyes start to water.

—————————————————————————-

ROOSTERS DREAM

There’s a missile coming right for me. I released my flares to stop it. Success. But there’s another one coming for me. I try my flares, but they’re all out. Shit. I’m going to die. What is he doing? Mav was now flying over me and releasing his flares to stop the missile. Holy shit! He did it! He sav- Mav got shot down.

"MAV!" I screamed. “Mav, do you copy?!" I tried over the radio. No response. "We have to help him! Please!"

"Rooster. He’s gone." I heard Bob say to me.

"No.." I mumble to myself.

Then I felt something on my hand.. and I’m awake, back in my bed, in my room, in my house. I look around, and my eyes land on you.

—————————————————————————-

"Bradley? Bradley, look at me. Are you okay, baby?" You ask him as calmly as you could.

Next thing you know, Bradley breaks out into a sob. You felt so sorry for him, immediately wrapping your arms around him and hugging him close to you.

"Oh baby.. shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you." You whisper to him as his sobs continue.

Bradley’s arms are curled up in between the two of you, holding onto the collar of the shirt you’re wearing. You rest your cheek on his head, taking one of your hands and slowly rubbing his back.

"I-I’m so sorry." Bradley chokes out in between sobs.

“Baby, it’s not your fault.. it’s okay." You calmly replied.

After a few minutes, Bradley manages to calm down enough that he can now breathe normally. You were still rubbing his back when he spoke up.

"That was the worst one yet." He said softly as another tear rolled down his cheek.

Bradley pulled back to sit and pulled his knees into his arms, dropping his head a little.

"If you think you can.. do you wanna talk about it?" You ask carefully, not wanting to scare him.

"It was just so realistic. It was exactly what happened that day.. I-.." emphasizing the ‘exactly’. He released a big sigh before continuing, "Y/N, he almost died. I almost lost Maverick. I’ve already lost my father and my mother, I don’t know what I would do if I lost Mav too. I mean, I pushed him out of my life for years, and I really regret it. But if I lost him right after we made up.. I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself."

At this point, you had a tear rolling down your cheek. When Bradley noticed this, he immediately started apologizing for making you cry, putting his hand on your cheek and wiping your tear away. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch and let out a breathy laugh.

You honestly didn’t know how to reply to such a sad and truthful confession from Bradley. You leaned in closer to rest your head on his shoulder and give him a big hug. Bradley loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming wet from his still-falling tears.

"Bradley I love you so much, I don’t think you even know. I am so grateful that both you and Maverick are back and safe.” Because if you died, I would kill you." You say the last part with a teasing tone.

You feel Bradley’s body shake in your arms as he laughs at your joke. You release Bradley from your hug and give him a sweet kiss on the lips. Your hand softly holds the back of his head as his hands rest gently on the small of your back. You pull back and rest your forehead against his, looking into his eyes.

"So.. you better now, baby?" You ask Bradley.

"Almost.. I think I’ll feel even better if you kiss me again." Bradley says while looking at your lips and back up to your eyes, pouting his lip a little and giving you puppy dog eyes. You lean your head back and laugh at his expression, but ultimately end up giving him another kiss to the lips.

When you both lay down again to go to sleep, Bradley wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head into your shoulder.

"I love you, Bradley." You say barley above a whisper, not sure if he even heard it.

"I love you too, Y/N, thank you, my love." He replied.

Needless to say, you both ended up falling asleep with a smile on your faces.

[charlessmiths-wife]

SO

I’ve realised that my accounts display is highly RDR2 centric, specifically Charles - yet I haven’t made any posts in any way pertaining to either of them! And they’re my greatest loves!

So without ANY FURTHER ADO I present a few of my nearest and dearest headcanons for the gang (most of them are probably incredibly basic… also so biased to my big three of Arthur/charles/sadie)

CW!!!!!! mentions of violence

Under the cut if you’re interested!

-> Arthur has a small barely noticeable scar on his neck, just below where his beard finishes. He tells everyone he simply got it one day when he accidentally nicked himself whilst shaving - only John and Hosea know the truth. He got it when a member of an enemy gang held a knife to his neck too hard once, threatening him. It didn’t go on long enough to cause any lasting damage. Suffice to say Hosea took care of things before it reached that point.

-> Throughout his whole life, Arthur struggled to differentiate the kinds of love he felt. He loved Mary and Eliza, I truly believe it was romantically, in Mary’s case and he was aware of this, though there’s less to go off of with Eliza - but in terms of his relationship with members of the gang, that’s slightly more difficult. He knows he loves John like a brother, Dutch and Hosea like a father, and Sadie like a sister. His love for Charles is… different to all those, very much so less familial. But he died before ever figuring out what it was.

-> Charles and Sadie visit his grave every year. John also does, but not with them, he prefers to go alone.

-> After Arthur dies, Abigail tries so hard to get John to open up. He never really does. The closest he gets to doing so is when he kills Micah.

-> Sadie never EVER forgets Jake, as much as I would love to be a sadigail truther (and I truly believe there’s certainly a lil fruit in Sadie’s punch if you get me) Sadie never finds the connection she had with him anywhere else.

-> I’ve already touched on Charthur, whilst I certainly think the possibility of feelings developing was right there, I don’t think it could ever have materialised within the time frame of RDR2

-> in some hypothetical and beautiful universe in which Arthur lived, it takes years for Arthur to realise his feelings - even more so to actually act on them.

-> that is, if he chose to act on them. Something tells me Arthur would stay silent, and opt to let Charles make the first move if he wished.

-> When Arthur got sick, Sadie actually silently believed he would get better. Somewhere deep down she knew that was likely impossible - but she wanted to believe it wouldn’t happen again, she wanted to believe someone she cared for wouldn’t be taken from her for another time. It was easier for her to believe than accept reality at times.

-> John also believed silently he would get better, the gang had always pulled through, no matter what - it was hard for him to comprehend Arthur might not be around anymore.

-> out of the three of them, Charles was the only one who I believe truly accepted Arthur’s fate before it happened.

-> I think Dutch did care for John and Arthur, and the whole gang at a point. But Dutch, in my opinion, has an innate desire (more than anything) to feel in control and protect himself and his leadership. A combination of the death of Hosea and the manipulation of Micah (as well as Dutch’s own personal desires and characteristics) are what I believe led to his care for the gang dissolving into care for only himself.

-> not rlly a headcannon, more of an opinion - but Javier gets too much hate. He chose to stand against John and Arthur, but in my opinion, this seems understandable if you look at it from his perspective? His loyalty lay with Dutch because Dutch, in his mind, SAVED him. He gave him family, support, food, and, well - life, for want of another word.

-> I firmly believe that, if Shaun was still alive, he would’ve done the exact same thing as Javi.

-> (coming from the most DIEHARD FAN so please recognise this is no hate) but sometimes I think Arthur gets well.. watered down too much as being presented as a good man who was living in unfortunate circumstances. And whilst I’d say this is largely true, at least on a good honour play through - I’d also say it’s largely true for many of the other members of the gang? Sadie, John, Abigail, Javier, Charles, Lenny… I’d say they’re just some of the examples of characters who would also fit such characterisation and deserve the same sympathy as Arthur

-> John was the BEST at playing cards back in camp, Arthur never knew how. It infuriated him.

-> “Goddamn bastard… fool at damn near everything else… but a goddamn wizard at poker…”

That’s all! Feel free to add any you have yourself in the comments :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for accidentally causing a falling out in our friend group?

I (19) made some friends in college. One of these was J (19M). Throughout the year, small issues built up with him. Notably him constantly (albeit not maliciously) misgendering me. However, he has only known me to go by they/them pronouns since we met, so I don’t see why after nearly a year of knowing him he still couldn’t get them right.

As well as him having very aggressive body language while having conversations/arguments, which always made me very uncomfortable, but he never actually did anything, so I thought it was fine.

The turning point was one night when we were all hanging out, me and my friend M (19F) were talking about how unfair it is that guys can take their shirts off when it’s super hot outside and somehow it got to us talking about how boobs are technically secondary sexual characteristics and shouldn’t even be sexualized by society as much as they are.

J argued with us. The actual opinion on this argument is not important here nor what makes anyone the asshole, but essentially it boiled down to me saying that, if it was hot enough, I personally don’t think it should be wrong for me to be shirtless. He then told me to prove it by taking off my shirt. I said no. There were five other people in the room with us who would not consent to that and it wasn’t hot in the room.

After I explicitly said no to taking off my shirt, he doubled down. Said if I didn’t take it off my argument had no holding and that he was right, which made me uncomfortable. I didn’t feel like I needed to strip in my friend’s dorm to prove a point for a disagreement that really wasn't that serious and I didn't like that he pressured me to after I said no the first time. I can’t remember what I said in response, but the disagreement ended there thanks to the show we were all about to watch starting. However, it made me very uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Later that night, we went out to get some food like we usually do and sat around in a circle talking. Two of my friends went up to get more food while the other three were having their own conversation which led to J and I talking. 

Now, some context: I’m autistic and I have sensory issues which make it difficult for me to eat food. There have been times when I’ve gone the whole day without eating, or maybe even multiple without, and I often stick to foods that are "safe" and won’t make me feel sick (most aren’t very nutritional/healthy).

I'm very aware of my difficulty eating and how unhealthy it is. I had been going back to my house every weekend in order to eat something other than the college food and even bought some vitamins to try and keep myself from getting severely malnourished.

That being said, I didn’t get a chance to eat much that day, and going out with them was my first genuine meal. After eating a meatball sub I got, M gave me her leftover grapes and I offhandedly said to J “I think these are the healthiest thing I’ve ate today.” 

And his response to me saying this was “You are so strange. You’re aware of how unhealthy you are, yet you never change.”

For the record, he doesn't know the specifics of my difficulties with eating. I’ve only vaguely mentioned it’s hard for me to eat and that I’m not able to eat a lot without feeling sick. Still, it felt really insensitive, very out of nowhere as we weren't having a serious conversation at all, and hurt my feelings. I got visibly upset at this and responded with a very bitter “Yeah” and immediately dropped the subject because it's not something I enjoy talking about. (This was also not the first time he has made comments about my self-care habits in such a way and while I believe he says them with good intentions I have stated multiple times it makes me feel worse).

I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, so I texted my friends after we all headed back to our dorms about what happened. Both him telling me to take off my shirt and the comment on my eating and asked if I was making a big deal out of it by being uncomfortable and upset. They told me that both things were extremely rude (and that the shirt thing was technically sexual harassment, though I don’t want to call it that) and that I was justified in being uncomfortable. They then mentioned that they had their own issues with J being a little too aggressive in the past that they had brushed aside, but they felt that what happened to me justified talking to him about his behavior.

We tried our best to avoid an argument. We just wanted to have a civil conversation about it as we all genuinely care about him. But when I confronted him about my issues and H brought up the problems she had been having (which consisted of him being too aggressive, guilt tripping the others when he was told to back off, and not respecting her privacy in her dorm) he got very defensive. It escalated into an argument between H and J that escalated to H deciding to cut ties with him due to him refusing to listen.

A few hours later, J sent me and H a genuine apology, which we accepted. I thought things were fine between us, although there was lingering discomfort as there would be with most big arguments. When the semester ended he sent us all messages that he didn’t feel welcome in the group and that he thought it was better to cut ties permanently and wished us all well. 

I kind of feel like it’s my fault and that I caused unnecessary drama without meaning to.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[twisted-sickfics]

Tough Day

a lot of content warnings in this one for angel-typical sexual content and violence so please skip this one if that’s not something you’re comfortable with! this still has lots of caretaking and comfort, there’s just also valentino so please beware!

content warnings: MDNI, emeto, language, valentino, violence and sexual content

~

Angel knew it would be a tough day when he woke up feeling like shit.

Well, to be more specific, his stomach feels like shit and his entire body aches all over. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that he’s probably coming down with something.

But he doesn’t have time to worry about that. Valentino needs him for a shoot and he’s not exactly going to take “I’m sick” as an excuse. He’s been higher and felt worse than this and completed shoots just fine. If he’s lucky, he doesn’t even remember them when he’s that out of it.

This is just…uncomfortable. Inconvenient. A fucking drag.

Getting to the set isn’t an issue but actually having to film? That’s another beast altogether. Having a bunch of dicks shoved in his mouth isn’t exactly the best idea when he’s already feeling like he could puke at any second. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like that’s the vibe Valentino wants to go for today.

Filming isn’t actually that bad, but it’s during the short break he’s allotted that things start to take a turn for the worse. He takes a drink of water and practically gags, feeling his stomach rebelling against the liquid he tried to introduce into his system.

“Angel, baby, we haven’t even played with your gag reflex today,” Valentino says, obviously having fun reveling in Angel’s misery. He just has to suck it up and take it, trying to fight back now would just be stupid. “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch.”

“Not at all, Valentino,” Angel swears. “I’m fine.” The last thing he’s going to do is open up to Valentino and admit weakness. If anything, the creep would only want to exploit his misery even more.

Valentino looks at him intensely as though poring over every little detail of Angel’s body. It feels slimy. It feels violating. “Back to filming, then,” he commands and the stagehands and actors get into position. Angel follows suit.

It’s when he has a demon’s cock up his ass and his brain is being pounded out that the nausea gets worse. He lifts a hand to cover his mouth, but Valentino immediately yells, “Cut! Angel, what the Hell are you doing?! We need to hear you loud and clear!”

“Valentino, I—” He isn’t sure how he would have explained himself, but even fumbling over his words would have been better than doubling over and vomiting all over the bed. Which is exactly what happens. He hears the stage crew gasp and shout around him, pictures being snapped, and Valentino yelling at him.

It all gets fuzzy after that. Maybe it’s the fever he’s positive he has at this point or maybe it was all so awful that he blocked it out of his memory, but he doesn’t remember much of Valentino’s wrath, just being thrown out of the studio and yelled at by some stagehand to call a cab because the shoot is over.

That didn’t end very well.

Angel still has the cognizance to do exactly what that stagehand told him to do because he needs to get home now. He’s lucky a driver even lets him in the car with how rough he looks, but he manages not to throw up in the backseat for the entire ride. That’s a win in his book.

This late at night (or early in the morning), not many of the hotel’s employees are still awake. Alastor might be lurking around somewhere but that doesn’t really count. Husk is the only one up at this hour, but that’s about the only person Angel feels comfortable showing himself around while he looks and feels like this.

“Hey,” Angel greets, his tone noticeably less excitable than usual. “‘m not feelin’ great today, you got anythin’ other than booze here?” He hasn’t eaten or drunk anything since the previous day now and he knows he should at least get some non-alcoholic fluids into his system.

That…definitely wasn’t what Husk was expecting. He thought Angel would immediately ask for the strongest drink he could make, but for him to admit that he’s not feeling well? Husk decides to keep a close eye on him out of concern. “I’ve got coffee, milk, tea, and water,” he offers. “Take your pick.”

Angel’s stomach rolls at the thought of drinking anything other than plain water right now, so he opts for that. Husk eyes him for a moment longer than usual before handing him a glass of water. “How was work?”

“Terrible,” Angel admits. “I threw up all over the bed during the shoot and Valentino threw me outta there. Guess I ain’t getting paid this time.” There’s no way Valentino will pay him for screwing up. He’ll have to resort to other means to make ends meet for the month, then.

“What the fuck?!” Husk shouts, and he immediately lowers his voice because of the way Angel flinches. “That bastard did this to you? Because you got sick? The next time I see that guy, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“After today, I think I’d like that,” Angel says, taking a swig of his water like it’s alcohol and immediately regretting it. His stomach still isn’t feeling great. “Listen, I’m gonna head to my room now. You have any drugs I can take? Like, the actual medicine kind?”

He must be feeling worse than he’s letting on if he’s actually asking for medicine. Even now, he’s performing. “You head upstairs and I’ll meet you there. I’ll bring you some meds and some water.”

Angel looks like he’s about to say something for a moment, but stops himself. Instead, he nods and heads to his room. Husk knows the bitterness of the tea would probably upset his stomach even more, so he pours him a glass of water instead. He gets some nausea medicine and some fever reducers (just in case, the guy was looking a little worse-for-wear) and heads to Angel’s bedroom where he’s immediately greeted by the sound of retching from the bathroom.

“Angel?” Husk calls out, setting the glass of water and medicine on the nightstand and opening the door to the bathroom only to be greeted with Angel hunched over the toilet, expelling what little is left in his stomach. “Hey, ‘s okay. Just breathe.”

Angel gags, bringing up a small amount of stomach acid. “I feel like shit,” he moans, eyes streaming with tears from the strain of throwing up, his voice hoarse and raw.

“I know,” Husk sympathizes, “but you’re doing great. Just lemme know when you’re done and we can get you cleaned up.” He takes this opportunity to check his forehead for a fever and sure enough, he’s burning up.

It’s tough to see someone who’s usually so strong in Husk’s eyes barely able to keep themselves up in front of a toilet bowl, and he really feels for the guy. If he had any kind of power over Valentino, he would kick his ass into oblivion for working Angel to the bone while sick.

“Think I’m done,” Angel says, looking absolutely miserable. He looks like he might pass out, so Husk wants to get him to bed as soon as possible. Husk rips off a piece of toilet paper and uses that to clean around Angel’s mouth. It might just be the fever, but his face looks really red.

“Think you can stand up?” Husk asks. He’s surprised when Angel nods, attempting to stand up on his own, but he leans on Husk for support as he walks to bed.

For the first time that night, Husk sees Angel visibly relax and close his eyes. “No going to sleep yet, sweetheart,” he says, apologetic since he knows the only thing Angel must want to do right now is go to sleep. “I need you to take these.”

Angel swallows the pills with some water and sighs. “If I have to go into work tomorrow, I think I’ll actually die again. I feel like shit, Whiskers.” How honest. When he’s not feeling well, Angel tends to be a bit more truthful. Interesting.

“I know you do, Legs. Tell you what, you sleep in today and get some rest. If Valentino comes knocking, I’ll set Alastor on him. Sound good?”

“Mhm,” Angel mumbles affirmatively, but he’s already half-asleep and very out of it. He probably doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, but there’s no way Husk is letting him go to work tomorrow when he’s this sick. He’s already thrown up twice and his fever felt pretty high. Whatever Valentino is going to do to him won’t be good.

Husk turns to leave when he feels a hand grip his wrist. “Wait…please stay…” Angel mumbles. How could Husk say no when he’s asked like that? He isn’t completely heartless. Just mostly heartless.

It doesn’t take long for Angel to fall asleep. He must have been exhausted, because it usually takes him much longer. Husk sits next to him, reading a book he’d been meaning to catch up on.

Husk flips through the pages of his book when Angel begins to stir again. He doesn’t appear to be awake but he looks distressed, as though he’s having a nightmare. Husk doesn’t wake him because he doesn’t want to disorient him even further, but a large small part of him feels badly seeing him like that.

Eventually, Angel wakes up with a gasp. “You’re alright, Legs,” Husk says, a steadying hand on his back. “You just had a nightmare. You’re in your room and you’re fine.”

He doesn’t feel fine, though. His stomach is in knots and he’s starting to sweat but he feels cold. He just dreamt about Valentino and he has to go to work the next day like this. There’s no way he can work like this! He’s going to get in so much trouble.

Husk can see Angel starting to work himself up even more, but he doesn’t know what to say to him to make it better. It’s only when Angel’s breaths start to morph into nauseous hiccups that Husk goes to get a trash can and places it under Angel’s mouth.

Angel starts to gag unproductively, bringing up strings of saliva. It isn’t a pretty sight, but Husk wants to be here for him. He has to. “It’s all right, Angel,” he says, “just let it out if you have to.”

Eventually, Angel finally does bring up a mouthful of bile and Husk winces. He hasn’t seen him this out of sorts in, well, ever. And he’s seen Angel in many different states.

It seems like that’s all he’s going to be able to bring up because the rest of his retches are dry and unproductive. Husk has to help him sit back in bed as he moves the trash can out of the way. “How’re you feeling?” he asks tentatively, though he has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“Like shit,” Angel says, as expected. “I think I threw up the medicine you made me take. Sorry ‘bout that.”

That’s when his phone starts blowing up. Husk is able to see the contact labeled “Valentino” on his phone, followed by several messages with some very aggressive language. He doesn’t miss the way Angel tenses up when a new text comes in.

“I-I should answer that,” he says, reaching for his phone before Husk snatches it out of his grasp.

“No way,” Husk says, “you’re not answering that asshole. I’ll take care of everything, promise. You deserve one day for yourself. Worst case scenario, tell that Valentino to shove a dick up his ass because you’re not going and that’s that.”

He’s worried he crossed some boundaries there, but Angel’s lips turn upward in a small smile. That’s enough to make Husk smile too. “Just get some rest, sweetheart.”

Husk isn’t stupid, he knows that means more work and possibly more punishment for Angel down the road. But for now, he’s in no state to show up for a shoot. Anything that comes later, they can handle. For now, he can just focus on resting and feeling better.

Angel doesn’t have to ask him to stay this time.