#and yeah as much as I loathe going to the doctors; I still end up doing so several times a year

[ratstuckinamarble]

The shitty lungs curse is spreading to my mutuals... run everyone (if your lungs will let you)

they never tell you abt The Skeleton's Curse (bone pain)

[kelpan]

Hello again!

It's been busy past couple of weeks! But thankfully, mostly for positive reasons. Worked a big 'ol theater summer camp all of July, made some good progress in figuring out what's going on with my body, and signed up to go back to school! Gonna try my hand at Medical Coding.

May have taken me two months to get this chapter out, but I feel pretty good about how it turned out! Hopefully you'll feel the same 🙂

Slight trigger warning for a bit of verbal abuse towards the end. I'm a big believer in respecting trigger warnings, so should you wish to skip but still want to know what happened, feel free to message me and I'll give you a generalized, abridged version.

Credit for the Chrysanthemum OC headshot goes to wwispie on Etsy/Instagram!

Ao3: Petals on a Stream of Stars

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Act 1, Chapter 14: Careful What You Wish For

Wednesday

9:00 pm

Chrysanthemum

“Goodness, that’s quite the uh… escapade. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Chrys waved off her concern, her arm covered in an assortment of colorful bandages, an apologetic smile across her face. 

“Oh no, this is nothing, really. I’m more concerned for her. Are you sure you don’t want to take her to a doctor?”

Marigold’s mother smiled back, tired, but accepting, with an assuring nod.  

“Yes, at least for tonight. Our family doctor has likely already retired for the evening, old man that he is, and she’s been through enough for one evening, I think. We’ll check in with him first thing in the morning.” She glanced away before meeting Chrys’s eyes once more, a cautious vulnerability seen within. “You know… I knew that she hadn’t been herself lately, quieter, prone to getting lost in her own little world, but I… I just thought it was her way of mourning, of dealing with her grandfather passing. Kids are always so difficult to judge with this kind of stuff, especially at her age. I guess with all the chaos going on, I missed just how badly she was truly hurting… ” She sighed, defeated. “Maybe I’m both a bad wife and a bad mom.”

Chrys’s initial instinct was to assure, to dismiss the statement, but something in her held back. Her gaze instead pivoted to Marigold, the frail and pale thing clutched once more to her mother’s side, with one hand latched firm to her own lips, her regressive thumb sucking the only sign of any thought behind her glazed, heavy-lidded eyes. Her entire body exuded pure exhaustion. 

Unsurprising, given the circumstances. Fainting would be draining to even the hardiest of adults, let alone a young child.

 She could still see the moment clear in her mind; How heavy the child’s tiny body felt as she fell limp in Chrys’s arms, her ear-splitting scream taking up the last of what strength the poor thing had left. In hindsight, Chrys recognized she’d been wholly unprepared to handle this sort of emergency. Without a bit of outside help, she was loathe to think of how much worse everything could have progressed from there. 

Marigold’s mother continued. “Oh, but listen to me, postulating like some college intern. Pay me no mind, I should have known better. Daring to hope she might still have a normal birthday party despite everything going on right now was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly say that.” Chrys said, finding a touch of strength in her voice. “Yeah, it ended badly, but there were some good moments. Though, maybe in the future a small family gathering might be better, rather than some grandiose party. All these kids to play with, and all she really wanted was her brother, you know?” 

Marigold’s mother grew quiet and pensive, listening intently. “You… may have a point there.”

Chrys’s attention shifted to the rest of the quickly dwindling crowd of kids, each still smiling as their guardians came and picked them up one by one, blissfully unbothered by everything that had transpired once they’d returned from dinner. Nothing but joy and laughter on their minds, with new crafted masterpieces to show off at home. 

Shame washed over her, knowing that Marigold wasn’t one of those smiling faces. This was her day, her chance to be pampered and celebrated. And she was leaving worse off than when she arrived. 

So much for wanting to give her the best birthday party ever.

“Well, thank you again, for everything. I’m going to get us home now, get her in bed. You have a good rest of your evening, dear.”

Marigold’s mother afforded her one last, polite smile, before turning and walking away, guiding along the ghost of a daughter who trailed behind her. 

 Chrys managed a weak smile as they left, for their sake, but couldn’t maintain it long. As soon as the two disappeared from sight, her facade crumbled, revealing the miserable expression waiting underneath. 

What a week. And it’s only Wednesday…

An out-of-place giggle pulled her from her thoughts, coming from the other side of the entrance, where the last child waited to be dismissed. He sat on the floor, legs outstretched while Moon, back towards her, helped him to tie his shoes.

“Oh my, you have snakes on your sneakers. Whatever shall we do? Here, let's tie them together in one big bow so that they can’t slither off on your way home.” 

He spoke with a softer inflection compared to Sun, far more gravely and nearly an octave lower. The boy cackled louder this time, amused as Moon added little “hissing” sounds as he looped each shoelace. The scene brought a soft smile to her face. 

“Hunter!” A voice shouted from out in the hall, manifesting in what must have been the boy’s mother storming through the gate, her distress evident. “Hunter Daniels, stop messing around this instant! It’s time to go!”

Heels slamming the ground with each step, she grasped the boy beneath his arms and hoisted him to his feet, with enough force to cause him to stumble before finding his footing, a single shoe still left untied. 

“Mom, stop! I’m not ready!”

“You’re ready enough! If I’d known this birthday party would take place in here I never would have let you come, even if the Chanceller’s are footing the bill. Now let’s go!”

“Okay, okay!”

His meek protests faded as they rushed from the daycare, a chaotic blur as the boy struggled to keep up with his mother’s furious pace. The gate doors closed behind them with an out-of-place and heavy “thud”.

“Yikes,” Chrys said, hesitant to make a sound in the wake of their departure. “What’s got her in such a tizzy?” 

Moon remained still, crouched in the same position on the floor, as if he’d been frozen from the very same moment the woman arrived.

“Moon?” Chrys asked, hesitant. “You alright?” She inched a step closer, enough so as to nearly place a hand on his shoulder. Just before she could, he snapped back to life and rose to his feet, shoulders tense, hands balled, and addressed her without so much as a tilt of his head in her direction. 

“I’m fine. The party is over now. You can go home.”

His words were curt, devoid of any of the warmth or affection he’d just shown the boy in helping him get ready. The sudden and unexpected shift in his attitude caught her off-guard. He’d hardly spoken since he’d found her and Marigold in Kids Cove, but that could be easily justified given the situation at the time. Now, his introversion felt cold, prickly almost, as if a web of thorns had woven throughout his personal space, threatening injury to any who dared to get too close. 

Had she said something wrong?

Capitalizing on her momentary hesitation, he strode into the heart of the room without another word, and began the hefty task of taking down all the various pieces of decoration still attached to the playplaces, leaving her to stand alone.

It was then she realized, while watching him from afar, that this was the first time she’d had the chance to see him out in the open, uninhibited. No impenetrable darkness, no near death experiences, no frightened child in need, nothing. Though she knew she was staring, she couldn’t seem to look away. 

 All the bits and pieces of him she’d seen so far still rang true. His base was a carbon copy of Sun’s, but with a different overall theme, obvious in the details. 

Even his clothes are black-light reactive, just like the stars on the ceiling. How clever.

Remaining quiet, she made her way to where he was, keeping just enough distance to not infringe on his personal space, yet close enough to still make her presence known. His body language communicated that he wished to be left alone, but she chose not to comply. 

It was about time they had a chance to chat one-on-one.

“So… is now a good time to thank you?”

He paused, a confused expression emerging, hands lost in a mess of different strings and streamers. 

“What?” He said. “You don’t need to thank me. Recovering a missing child is literally my job.”

Irritation colored his voice, his words landing with a bite before he scowled and returned to his work. He did everything in his power to avoid participating in the conversation. 

“I mean, that’s not true.” She replied. “I don’t know what I would have done with Marigold if you hadn’t shown up when you did. But, even so, that’s not really what I was talking about.” She tested the waters, stepping closer. “I meant the storeroom, and the paint shelf. Remember? I never really got to thank you for coming to my rescue.” She leaned on the playplace within his line of sight, making herself unavoidable. “That… was you, wasn’t it?”

With how reluctant he was to speak, she knew she walked a fine line, attempting to get him to confess his participation without pushing too far. She’d already gotten all the confirmation she needed; There was no mistaking his voice, not now that she was so close. The only question that remained was whether or not he would deny it. 

His eyes drifted to the floor, and he sighed, finally abandoning the knot he’d been attempting to untangle. He whispered, just soft enough that she was unsure if he meant for her to hear it or not. 

“And if it was? Would you still want to thank me then?”

His statement carried with it the weight of sorrow, dissonant to the standoffish demeanor he wore now. Nothing she had thought to say felt appropriate given this unexpected vulnerability, leaving her at a loss for words.

As if taking her silence for judgment, he grumbled, and turned back to his previous task, brusquely brushing her off. 

“Nevermind. Like I said, you should go home. Forget about all this. I’ll get it cleaned up.”

Mentally, she berated herself. She’d overstepped, and now the wall was back up. His body language, his voice, all worked to push her away, reject her attempts at outreach. But why? To what end? Nothing about his behavior made sense to her. What did he gain by forcing distance between them? Without a clear goal in mind, the wisest thing to do now would be to leave, follow his advice and go home. Respect his unspoken wish to be left alone, and wait until next time to try and make friends again.

Only who knows how long that would be.

With a slight pout of her lips, she stepped back, and moved to the opposing playplace, setting to work on untangling another mess of strings which held a large banner in place. 

“What are you doing?” He stopped, following her every move with an incredulous look. “I just said I’d take care of it.”

“I know.” She stated, looking anywhere but at him. “And I opted to disregard it.”

She heard him make a throaty click, and had to stop the smirk that threatened to break through. 

“I had no intention of letting Sun clean up all of this by himself. I’m not sure what makes you think you are any different.”

Maintaining a veneer of disinterest, Chrys continued to work, doing her best to ignore the prickle that rose to the back of her neck as she sensed rather than saw Moon approach her from behind. Only once his shadow blocked the light from reaching her did she deign to turn around. 

“Yes? Can I help you?” She quipped. 

The permanent smile on his face quivered, the corners tightening with annoyance. He leaned over, closing the gap, with his arms crossed in what she thought was a half-hearted attempt at being intimidating. 

“Go. Home.”

“No.”

His eye joined the rest of his face in twitching, and he closed them for a moment as he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Maybe I should have let you go rushing to your own death. Would have been fitting, seeing as how stubborn you are.”

“Yeah, you could have.” Chrys said, refusing to look away from his strained smile and tired eyes. “But you didn’t. So whether you like it or not, it’s my turn to return the favor. I owe you. Now, mind telling me where this goes?”

She held up the banner she’d been working on, now free from its constraints. His eyes widened, bouncing between her and the impossible knot he’d yet to figure out himself. Throwing his hands up, he rolled his eyes. 

“Fine! You win. Just, I don’t know, be careful? And don’t get in my way.” He pinched the center curve of his crescent nose as she grinned, pleased. “You can put all the decorations in the tubs behind the security desk.”

For the next half hour, the two kept to their own, working separate yet cooperatively from the other to remove all the birthday decor from the Daycare. Trip after trip was made, until the last spool of streamers was placed in their proper place.  

“There!” Chrys said, placing the lid on the final tub. “Finished.” She mimed clapping the dust from her hands. “Aren’t you glad I stuck around?”

Moon came up beside her, picking up the tub and hauled it over to the entrance, placing it among the rest of the packed up decorations.

“You were not… not helpful, I suppose.”

Chrys chuckled. As they had worked, the wall he’d erected to keep her at bay had been chipped away at, their interactions growing more relaxed and less curt. Speaking occurred without as much difficulty, though he still remained a man of few words. Another interesting contrast between the two brother’s, she presumed. 

Following behind, Chrys waited until he was finished before approaching, having learned in their brief time together that he seemed to dislike someone coming up to him from behind when he wasn’t looking. Having already grabbed her bag from her locker, the clock chimed the time, signaling that even if she wished to stay, her shift was nearing its end. All that was left to do was to check-in and say goodbye. 

“Well, I guess that’s everything. Anything else you need me to do before I go?”

He crossed his arms and cocked a hip, cracking a raised eyebrow to her. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to listen to me now? And here I thought you were trying to avoid leaving at all.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’ll be right back here bright and early tomorrow, trust me. I don’t want to hear Vanessa berate me for being late again.”

For the first time, she heard him laugh. Lightly, softly, but there. The sound made her smile. 

“No, I can't imagine you do. She has a rather impressive way of making you feel like utter garbage the moment she says your name.”

“Hey,” Chrys said. “Least she doesn’t butcher it. You wouldn’t believe the ways people have managed to mess up “Chrysanthemum” before. Someone even once called me “Chlorophyll��. Chlorophyll! Like, how did they possibly come to that conclusion? It’s not even spelled remotely the same!” She held out her hand, her expression and tone both mockingly cheerful. “Hello! Pleasure to meet you, my name’s Chlorophyll! Don’t mind me, I’m just a plant!”

Moon chuckled, amused, surprising her by taking her outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. “Pleased to meet you, little Ms. Walking Houseplant. Let’s hope you’re not poisonous, shall we?”

The two shared another chuckle, lightening the air around them further.  Though the camaraderie was still new and unfamiliar, it came with a natural, inviting flow Chrys found refreshing…until a tiny, clacking sound caught her attention.

Following the sound, it wasn’t hard to determine what had caused it. There, dangling from his wrist, a yellow and gold gemstone bead bracelet rattled against itself, the colors contrary to the cool blue of his arm. Her mirth faded as she recognized what she was looking at. 

“Uh, Moon…why are you wearing Sun’s bracelet?”

A knot caught in her throat, her “gift” staring at her in the face. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but her mind raced with the implications of what she saw, of what it meant. To have transferred to his wrist in the short time between when she last saw Sun, given all the chaos that occurred…it wasn’t realistic to think it had gotten there by any mundane means. Now that she thought about it, Sun still hadn’t returned since rushing off after Marigold’s disappearance…were her earlier suspicions actually right? 

“Actually,” She spoke with as steady a voice as she could manage. “Where is Sun right now? I-Is he coming back soon? I want to say goodbye to him before I head h-home—”

“Don’t play dumb.”

His hand tightened around hers with a crushing force, and his cold glare made her stomach drop. For the first time, the sheer magnitude of his unnaturally tall stature left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Reflexively, she buckled towards him, clutching at their hands.

“Moon, s-stop, you’re hurting me!”

“Why?” He spat, his expression steeled. “You late on sending in your report? Let me guess, it’s all about how you’ve been keeping tabs on us, trying to see if we mess up? The “poor, damaged robots” not keeping up appearances well enough for management’s liking? Oh no no no, can’t have that now, can we?” He made a clicking, “tsk” sound before yanking, hard, on her arm, drawing her in dangerously close. “Is Vanessa getting worried we’ll cause another controversy? Is that really why she hired you?” 

She tried to pull away, to put the safety of distance back between them, but his hold was unyielding. He waited, eyes demanding an answer, yet she could think of nothing. None of the accusations he slung at her made any sense, and as the fire in her hand grew, she couldn’t even find the strength to speak up in her own defense. Bitter, confused tears burned hot trails down her cheeks, and she dug at Moon’s hand on hers with an ever-increasing panic.

With a growl of frustration, he threw her away, sending her sprawling backwards, her back falling into the wall with a heavy, solid “thud”. Her legs barely found the strength to keep her standing in time, having to prop up the majority of her weight on one hand as she found her footing.

“I bet you thought you were so clever, didn’t you?” He stalked towards her, eyes sharp and fierce, a cruel smile in place. “I’ll admit, you had me going there for a while. What a talented, pretty little actress you are, giving such a stellar performance.” He slammed his hands to the wall on either side of her head, causing her to cry out. “You may have Sunny fooled, but not me. Your little “nice girl” act has failed. But I can promise you something, starlight,” He spat the last word. “I won’t let anyone hurt my brother again. Not you, not Vanessa, not even the owner of Fazbear Entertainment himself. If you want us scrapped that badly, well…I guess you’ll just have to try a little bit harder.”

Rage rolled off him in waves, assaulting her senses. She wilted under his biting words, each as confusing and damaging as the last. Her breath hitched as he drew close, hovering his face just a few inches from her ear.

 “…still grateful I saved you?” 

His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, and she trembled against her will. She could hardly breathe, hardly think, her overly-stressed mind an incoherent mess. This wasn’t what she’d expected, wasn’t what she’d thought might come about from making those damn bracelets, but she regretted it all the same. 

He pulled back with a snarl, his sharp teeth bared.

“’Cause it won’t happen again.”

Despite how her gut screamed at her not to, she dared to meet his gaze head-on, silently asking for mercy, respite, anything to make this stop. His red eyes, once a sight that brought her relief, now gleamed a hellish ruby, not an ounce of compassion to be found within.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “…P-Please…Sun will—”

“Sun’s not here.”

His curt response left no room for retort, and she pressed herself as far as she could into the wall, the desire to be as small as possible almost unignorable.  

“Though…you bring up an excellent point” he said, tilting his head. “It would do him some good, I think, to see you without his usual “sunny-colored lenses”. Let’s fetch him, shall we?” 

With a gravelly roar, he pulled back his arm, and slammed it down again with enough force to shake the wall. Chrys cried out, flinching away from the sound, her hands flying to protect her face. She shuddered, waiting for the pain to arrive, but it never did. Cracking her eyes open, the brightness that greeted her left her momentarily blind until her eyes adjusted. Glancing beside her, she gasped to see the light-switch smashed, cracks breaking through. Turning to Moon, she was surprised to find him watching her, as if he’d been waiting for her to. Using the same hand he smashed the light-switch with, he reached down and took her chin in his fingers, forcing her to face him completely.

“Don’t look away.” 

Without the softness of shadows to cloak his features in an air of fantasy, his countenance appeared duller, weathered, the colors washed out by the intense lighting, leaving him with an almost exposed, unnatural appearance, like a nocturnal animal caught out in daylight. Time stilled around them, each second strained and drawn out. She trembled under his gaze, unsure of what to do and too terrified to find out. 

Though she wouldn't have long to wait. 

In a snap, everything changed. Moon, clutching at his chest, let out a deep, guttural wail, as if his very heart had stopped. He dug and clawed at the edges of his faceplate, stumbling backwards with a lurch. With each second that passed his cries grew more and more anguished, and with horror settling in her gut, Chrys realized she’d heard these tortured sounds once before, in the sudden darkness of the storeroom. 

From his outermost extremities in, his body metamorphosed. As his limbs shook and jerked at odd angles, the colors of his pants changed, leeching up his body like a poison in stripes of red and gold. Not limited to just his clothing, the color infected his arms, his chest, rising up his body until finally, his head. 

Moon’s screams warped, the sound shifting to reflect more of another’s voice than his own, tears flowing uninhibited down her face as she recognized whose. The tension in the air grew and grew until all at once he went limp, his arms falling from his face to dangle lifelessly at his sides. His head spun on its axis, with his hat sliding in-between the separating plates, revealing a tangled mess of bare wiring and circuitry before being replaced by golden pointed rays and a soft, yellow complexion.

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Btw, for anyone interested, if you haven't yet checked out the FNAF Fangame "After Hours" by snowyrey, I highly recommend you do! The new voice acting added for Sun and Moon is phenomenal!

[thetarttfuldickhead]

As much as I love Roy telling Jamie he’s proud of him (and then maybe not punching him in the face aftewards, idk, could be a thing) I’ve also grown partial to the idea of Jamie telling Roy that he’s proud of him, ‘cause well, Roy needs a bit of that too, I think.

I haven’t got the details figured, but maybe something vaguely along the lines of the ending to the “My Fallen Idol” episode of Scrubs, where Dr. Cox (having failed to save several of his patients) is depressed, drunk and not talking while unshaven and wrapped in a blanket on his couch. JD shows up, gives him a quiet but heartfelt peptalk and tells him he’s proud of him, because even after so long as a doctor Dr. Cox still cares enough to take it that hard when things go wrong.

So say Roy fucks something up. It’s not necessarily his fault; he does his best given the circumstances or acts unwittingly, but it goes tits up and he ends up making a mess of things. Not a “people died” mess, but still really quite bad. (I honestly don’t know what this could be. Maybe something slightly careless he says blowing up in the media and somehow really fucking over a young footballer? Maybe something else entirely. That’s not the important part.)

And this is Roy, who cares so very deeply but is so very unkind to himself, and the guilt and fucking shame of having fucked someone (especially a young someone!) over like that, particularly when he’s already struggling with the feeling that he can’t change for the better, that he’ll always be the same fucking idiot I’ve always been? Yeah, I don’t think he’d deal very well. He also, and obviously, wouldn’t want to talk about it.

And depending on how much hurt (and comfort) you want from this, you could either simply have Roy pull a Roy and retreat to an ice bath, and Jamie letting himself in like Ted once did, and giving a little (slightly clumsy but very earnest) speech about how fucking proud he is of Roy, and Roy has no fucking idea how to handle all the emotions that inspire, but, yeah. It helps.

Or you can drag it out a bit and have Roy stubbornly insisting he is fine and hiding behind his usually gruff exterior, only he’s not doing fine and eventually he shows up at training still drunk from trying to drown his self-loathing in way too much whisky, and Rebecca takes him home and tries to talk to him, and when that doesn’t work she calls Keeley, and Keeley’s a comfort, she always is, but this time it’s not enough (or just too early). Jamie shows up after training, bringing dinner, and he sits down next to Roy and, again, brings out the speech. It doesn’t magically make everything right, because how could it, but it’s enough to start from. Enough to give Roy the courage to begin anew.

Or if you really want to dial that angst right up, we can have Jamie – like JD in the Scrubs episode – put off visiting, making comments about how it was fucking unprofessional showing up to Nelson Road like that, Roy would have had their heads if they’d tried pulling anything like it, so why should the gaffer get special consideration? Beard and Rebecca and Nate and Isaac and his sister and Keeley all take turns sitting with Roy while he quietly stews in despair on his couch, but Jamie is inconspicuously absent.

Until he isn’t, because of course he relents in the end, and he shows up to tell Roy that yeah, he made it out like he was angry with Roy for showing up drunk, but really he was freaked out because Roy’s always been so fucking strong and Jamie’s always counted on and leaned on that strenght, back when he was a kid and they didn’t know each other and back when they were teammates and fighting all the time and most of all since Roy became his coach and his best friend. Like, Jamie knows Roy isn’t perfect – like, really man, you are not– but Roy’s strenght has been a constant and a comfort in Jamie’s life and having to face that fact Roy isn’t some sort of superhero… that scared him, yeah. But that’s Jamie’s problem, not Roy’s, and so he’s here to tell Roy how fucking proud he is of him, for how much he fucking cares and how hard he works at being there for all of them, even though he thinks he’s no good at it. But you are, yeah? Fucking good at it. But that’s not the really important bit, anyway. The important bit is that you’ve always kept trying, even when that meant doing stuff you fucking hated or were scary or hard. ‘Cause it isn’t easy for you, this shit, but you keep at it anyway, because you care, and that’s… Dead proud of you for that, Roy. Really am.  

[ashintheairlikesnow]

ash beloved, as a prince of woe and misfortune (a fibromyalgia haver) can i request some jameson on a bad pain day

the current vibe is 'i need to pee but my legs are fucking screaming and i havent even moved them yet and my shoes feel too tight because all my peripheral joints are getting inflamed' and i feel Terrible bc i used to be able to just ,, do stuff and now i cannot because of the evil 'You Have Pain And Doctors Don't Know Why' Disorder™

i am not sure whether i want to revel in shared misery or schadenfreude but i am sure i want to see a guy in pain

Anon, my gift to you and my sympathies for your Whole Body:

CW: Chronic pain, self-harm (brief, self-hitting), self-loathing, aftermath of whump, recovering whumpee

-

"You pushed yourself too hard, that's all." Nat tries for soothing, but when she puts a hand out to touch his shoulder, Jameson shoots her a furious glare and she carefully shifts it back again. "Right. Okay. You have to take things slow, honey, your legs-"

"-are goddamn fucking useless, yeah, I get it. I got it." Jameson's rasping voice is thinned to little more than a whisper as he hunches over himself, sitting sideways on the couch with his legs out on the cushions bent at the knees, refusing to straighten. He slams a fist down on his thigh just to feel a bloom of new pain that's is brighter and new compared to the eternal goddamn throbbing of the old. It's... nice. He tries it again on the other side.

Jesus, how fucked up is this? That this is what helps?

"Hey, hey now," Nat says, and before he can do it again she takes his wrist in her cool hands and holds his arm steady. "Not your best idea. I didn't call any part of you useless, that isn't what I said, honey."

"I wanted to walk to the goddamn gas station." Jameson glares at her hands, but he holds still under her deft, gentle touch. He doesn't pull away, or hit anything, he just... sits here, his knees shifting and muscles twitching in a pointless attempt to escape what's inside of them, what's as much a part of him as his own breath in his lungs now. "It's less than two miles. Less than two! I used to-... to run, on the treadmills in training, for fucking five miles, ten miles, no fucking sweat. My handlers told me I had a record for going so fast. I could run for fucking days on end, if I had to! Now..."

He groans, dropping back against the arm of the couch, even angrier when hot tears burn against his eyelids, trying to force their way out.

"Jameson-"

"Now... I can't even fucking walk."

"You do have the crutches, and the chair you can use, I know the sidewalk runs all the way past the gas station-"

"I wanted to fucking walk, Nat! I felt really good this morning! This shit didn't start up until I was putting on my fucking clothes! I shouldn't have fucking needed the goddamn fucking crutches or the stupid fucking chair!"

He grabs almost sightlessly for the crutch leaning against the couch, has it in his hand, and pulls his arm back to throw it.

"I hate this fucking shit!"

Nat's hand closes back around his wrist, and this time her grip is like iron, and Jameson feels his rage wither when he meets her steady hazel eyes.

"Jameson. You are not going to throw that."

Nat rarely uses this voice. Not with him. But now she does, firm and even stern, brooking no appeal. If she wasn't Nat, that voice would be an impossible turn-on. He'd be on his knees, not that he could do that without screaming any longer. He'd be begging her for... anything.

If she was Nanda...

No one's ever going to be Nanda. Not ever again. He pushes down the sharp, if finally slightly faded, spike of pain.

Nat refuses to let him look away this time. "Listen to me. That crutch is a tool, not a weapon. It was a gift, and it is a gift for you. It lets you go places you could not go before. Just like the chair. So if you break it, it's broken, and you lose that tool. Please, honey, don't cost yourself something that helps by getting angry at it for being needed."

"I didn't need it, before," He whispers, and she takes the crutch away from him, laying it down on the floor. He lets her do it. "Even when I was on the run. I didn't need this shit until I started getting better, and it feels like I'm just getting worse."

She nods, and holds his hands in her own. The ache in his fingers fades a little when they warm to each other. "Your body is incredible," She says, voice low. When he scoffs, she shakes her head, smiling. "Come on, let me finish. You survived two people who tried to kill you."

"Technically five people have tried to kill me."

"Five?" Nat looks, briefly, so baffled that Jameson nearly laughs. "You've only mention the two-"

"Those were the two where I killed them first," He says, voice low. "I don't even feel bad about it."

"I know. And I'm not asking you to feel bad. I've done some things in my life I'm not proud of, too, but it kept this safehouse together and I don't regret it for a second."

"What... what did you do?"

"We're not talking about me. I'm saying that you lived when other people died. You have survived more than any other runaway I've ever met. Your body carried you through it. It kept you alive. It kept you moving, kept carrying your weight when it wanted to give out because you hadn't given up fighting. Now, it doesn't have to carry you so far anymore. Your body knows you're safe, that you have people here who care about you, so it's hurting like hell because it hasn't allowed itself to hurt as much as it needed to for a long, long time. Your body carried every bad thing that ever happened to you, and I for one am grateful for it, because it got you here to us. Look at you."

Jameson shifts, trying to move his legs so he can face her. They protest with a scream that he has to grind his teeth against, but he manages to get both feet flat on the floor. "Look at me?"

"Yeah. Look at you. You're alive, honey." She smiles, hands on either side of his face, and he finds himself - reluctantly - smiling back. "You're alive and you wake up every day and sometimes the days are good, and sometimes they're not-"

"Like today. Today sucks."

She laughs, short and soft, and he loves her so much it is physically painful, the way that you love a mother, or a sister. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you that. But today is just one day, and you've got more comin'. Maybe tomorrow you can walk to the store, or maybe you'll need the crutches or the chair, but you know what? You'll still get there, if you want to, because you are the most stubborn son of a gun on earth and if you want those awful taquitos, I know you'll find a way."

Jameson's smile shifts. Incredulous, he asks, "Did... you just say 'son of a gun'?"

"Oh, shut up. I grew up in a family where that was just about the worst thing any of us could say without serious punishment. Sometimes that stuff still comes out." She pokes him in the nose, watching him wrinkle it in response.

There's a pause.

Then he clears his throat.

"It wasn't, uh, it wasn't taquitos." He discovers he's mumbling, flushing a little.

"Oh. Doughnuts, then?"

"No, not those, either, just... it's stupid. But Vince, uh, the other day he made this stupid fucking joke about Red Bull, so..."

"So..." She blinks, eyebrows furrowing. "You were... going to buy him a Red Bull?"

"I was... gonna buy about fifty and put them in his bed."

Nat just stares at him, blinking, as seconds stretch slowly out. "You were... you were going to-"

"Buy like... fifty Red Bulls and put them in his bed, uh, cover them in his fucking blankets and like arrange them like a person, and then... you know... It, uh, makes better sense in context."

"How could it possibly? You know what, doesn't matter. Here's what we'll do. You get those crutches on your arms, and i'll drive you to the gas station, and we will... we will get you your... fifteen Red Bulls."

"Fifty."

"Oh, my God. Where do you even get that much money?"

"... Vince gave me money."

"You're using his own money to prank him?"

"It's not like he fucking needs it!"

"You know what? I'm going to stop asking questions when the answers only give me new questions to ask." She pats his arm, and he takes the opportunity to brusquely throw an arm around her and crush her tightly to him in a hug. "Jameson-"

"Thanks," He mutters, then pushes her back and away so he can clumsily get on his feet. His knees nearly buckle, but when he throws his hand out Nat is holding the crutch, and he slots his arm into the cuff that fits just below his elbow. Nat has to hand him the other one, and help him with his shoes, and the whole time his legs ache like someone is slowly sawing them off with a nail file, but he stays standing.

He wants to play this stupid fucking prank on Vincent fucking Shield, and he can already tell it's the only thing he'll be able to do today and even that's only with Nat's help.

By the time they get back from one single errand he'll need more painkillers and a nap just to recover enough to finish putting the energy drinks into Vince's bed. Then maybe another nap after that.

But it's what he wants to do.

Fuck it.

If he only gets one thing to work on this shitty day, it might as well be the most bafflingly confusing thing he's ever done.

Plus, Nat always plays Jameson's playlist when she drives him in her car. So that's one good thing.

-

[phr0gg13]

Can you do an angsty Will fic? Where he breaks down from being touch starved (he became used to giving hugs than getting hugs after being thrust into a role of leadership and having to act like he's always okay for his siblings) and Nico comforts him? It's kinda specific, so its completely your choice! im just really desperate for some Will angst

Pls no smut! and possibly Will X Nico! Thank youu <33

Ahhhh!! I love Will and Nico soooo muchhh, the minute I saw this request I already made a photo thingy for the fic and Im so excited!

Will Solace x Nico Di Angelo

Warnings: Angst/comfort, mentions of negative self image, and also infirmary stuff!

Will was tired to say the least, as the head counselor of the Apollo cabin he had a lot on his plate. Not only did he have to help out the new Apollo children but also the current ones. He felt like a mom at times, struggling to stop all her kids from accidentally dying. Oh and he also was one of the head healers at the infirmary. He spent all his time helping others but no one ever really helped him. Of course he had friends and of course he had his siblings but none of them ever really picked up on his stress or negative thoughts. The dark circles under his eyes went unnoticed as well as the constant yawning.

Will had managed to get away from the busy day he was having. Opting to chill near the strawberry fields. He even picked a few to snack on, safe to say he knew this break wouldn't be long. Camp Half-Blood seemed to have a dramatic increase in new campers, Will didn't understand how the gods could have so many kids all the time, this meant that he had a lot more to do. A Lot more people to show around, explain things to, and also a lot more children that end up injuring themselves.

He always kicked himself mentally when he sighed at the new campers asking him for help. He was supposed to be a bright eyed, happy-go-lucky Apollo kid. Yet he wasn't happy, he was stressed and in a constant state of self loathing. Will felt water drops on his hands, looking up at the sky he saw it was still bright and sunny out. He was crying. In the middle of the Strawberry fields. He felt stupid. He was fine and a little work wasn't the end of the world. He tried to find the motivation to get up and go back to the infirmary but he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to the bloody noses, and the bruises, and the whining.

He didn't want to. He just wanted to stay put in the fields. Streams of tears came out of his eyes, the stress of everything was too much. He put his head against the tree he was sitting next to and let himself cry. This was fine, he was fine. No one was around anyways.... Or so he thought.

"Hey you okay Sunshine?" Will knew whos voice it was. Nico Di Angelo, a child of Hades and someone Will was quite enamored with. Will quickly wiped his face, "Yeah, I'm great... It's just really hot out, some sweat got in my eyes." Will resonded sheepishly. He wasnt trying to lie to Nico, he just didnt want to burden him with his problems. "You sure? Cause from where I'm standing it seems like you are hiding in the strawberry fields crying..." Nico sat down next to Will. Will looked at Nico, who was wearing some black jeans and a black shirt (He never wore his camp half blood shirt) with a skull on it. He gave Nico a small smile, "I'm just stressed I guess...". Nico nodded and looked around the camp. Everyone was doing their own thing, they didn't notice the pair at all. "You do alot for the camp, I'm not suprised you're stressed. You should talk to Chiron about some time off or something..." Nico's suggestion was nice but Will couldn't stand the thought of not being useful. He didn't want to be dead weight. "I'm fine. I just...." Will couldnt find the words he was going to say. Nico faced Will and gave him a concerned look. "Please stop overworking yourself. It's not healthy and you're supposed to be a doctor or whatever..." Nico joked with the blonde. "I'm not a doctor, I'm just a kid they put in charge of the health of countless other kids..." Will sighed. "Yeah, but you're damn good at your job, Solace." Nico's compliment made Will's cheeks burn. "Thanks..." Will looked away from Nico trying to hide his blush.

A horn could be heard in the distance, it was dinner time. Will sighed, he would have to go back to everyone, put on a smile and pretend all over again. The moment with Nico was just a moment. It wasn't permanent. "Guess it's time to eat..." Will sat up and got on his own two feet. "Thanks for talking to me Nico." He started to walk away until he felt a hand grab his wrist. "Wait... You can sit with me if you'd like. The hades table is always empty..." Will smiled at Nico and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'd like that alot Nico." Nico gave Will a small smile and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Will. Nico had his head against Will's chest considering he was a few inches shorter than Will.

Once again tears threatened to leave Will's eyes, but for a different reason this time. He returned Nico's hug and placed his chin atop of his head. The two stayed there for a few minutes. Just enjoying the embrace of the other. That night at dinner Nico and Will talked on and on about everything. Nico even convinced Will to talk to Chiron about his stress. Safe to say there were a lot more moments in the strawberry fields for Will and Nico.

[greenfiredragonfly]

...okay but therapy was incredibly rough yesterday. One bombshell after another. Bam, bam, bam. I was choking up and crying by the end of it and I loathe crying in front of other people. Yeah, even my therapist. I can't stand it.

God, god. It was bad. And then I had to rush immediately to a doctor's appointment without getting a chance to really process except for crying on the 8min drive home. It's no wonder I spent the rest of the day fucked up.

...it's no wonder I'm still fucked up. I didn't pull my punches yesterday and neither did she. God.

...she said I should vent more. She actually said

And she said that if no one else is around, then I can vent to her. Just that it should be with someone. She said that expressing fear and worry is not the same as complaining. She said that I can schedule more than one session in a week if I need it.

....we talked about family (if you know what's going on there you know what's going on there), about suicidal ideation, about ongoing grief and my response. She said. She said that. Wanting to. Lessen the blow. Isn't necessarily the wrong choice. And that...gutted me. In ways I can't even explain. Just thinking about that is making me tear up again.

...I should process this. I really should. All I want to do is distract myself though because it feels like I can't breathe. I'm choking on bile. It's too big it's too much I can't I can't oooooh god I'm nauseous

Okay bye. If I don't find something to engage myself in then I am going to have another anxiety attack ooooooohhhhhhhh

And I've already had so so many over the past week god

[bronzeagepizzeria]

okay, just gonna respond to this one last time. it’s really not discourse—it’s the intention of the writer. it’s canon.

you mention the martha clone being different from tentoo—i agree. it proves tentoo ISNT a clone. the martha clone is sontaran manufactured and gets martha’s memories in live time. tentoo is literally a regeneration of the doctor. he’s the doctor’s consciousness waking up in a different body. martha is human-the same memories make a man thing doesn’t apply to her the way it does to time lords, because she is a different species

the ganger eleventh doctor is the eleventh doctor. amy herself acknowledges this. she cannot tell the difference between the two of them until the end of the episode, where she realises the both of them are the real doctor.

the creatures that imitate 14 and donna, again, are creatures with their own motivations and ideals. whereas tentoo is literally formed from his own regeneration energy.

‘he has ten’s memories and still committed genocide’—uh…yeah. that’s kind of the point? that’s why ten hates him. ten loathes himself. he knows he would’ve done the same thing. (what really tickles me about these posts is you guys love pretending the doctor hasn’t committed genocide before? it is definitely not ooc) ten has spent the last hour or so being berated by davros and being shown how he makes weapons of people he loves. he has been shown himself. and the doctor hates himself. his interactions with tentoo are quite obviously very intense projection.

the ‘you made me better’ thing is very obviously not a command for rose to “fix him”, it’s just him saying rose has always made him better. let’s keep in mind that it’s ten who loses his shit and goes absolutely crazy after this. he’s well aware that he needs her too. but he’s letting her go because he wants her to have a life with him.

as for your biggest contention…i will grant you this. journey’s end is a very rushed episode. this entire plot should’ve been given more time to breathe + tentoo/rose should’ve had more time together alone. but. rtd has very clearly said that he wrote and rewrote this scene to place the agency in rose’s hands. he never said “rose would run back to the tardis with ten/donna” he said rose must be the one making the choice here. and get this. rose chooses tentoo.

don’t get me wrong—ten is absolutely manipulating her into making a choice here. if it were up to her, she wouldn’t choose between them. how could she? imagine the man you love is now two people. it’s an impossible choice. but rose isn’t naive. she knows exactly what ten is pushing her to do. she knows what tentoo (and ten) are offering her. that’s why she stops him the first time he tries to leave. when she asks him what the end of that sentence was supposed to be, she’s taking the power back into her hands. and ten knows this as well. he knows the kiss is his final sentence, her final decision.

of course rose reacts the way she does when he does leave. no matter what, it’s bound to hurt that he left like that, without saying goodbye. it’s a very nuanced scene i’m glad made the cut. the emotions are bound to be messy.

as for billie piper’s dislike of tentoo…we’re all aware of it! how come you never bring up david tennant’s overwhelming support in favour of the tentoo storyline? or the fact that rtd intended this since the christmas invasion? it’s common knowledge that billie isn’t very into dw, and that’s okay. she’s just an actress doing her job and she does it fabulously, but i think rtd’s opinions on his own storyline matter more.

lastly, i agree with you. people like what they like and i get that this ending isn’t for everyone. i know some people like elevenrose and twelverose, which personally aren’t my thing, but i don’t go around posting about why those ships wouldn’t work in the tags where fans of that stuff can find them. is it too much to expect the same courtesy? it’s been 15 years. i’m sorry you didn’t like the, frankly, in my opinion, fabulous ending rose got. please just let us enjoy it though. cheers🙂

I've been seeing a lot of discourse about Rose and Tentoo on my dash lately and I thought I'd add my two cents. I have never been a fan of that ending for Rose. "He's Ten but human! He has Ten's memories!" That argument would hold a lot more weight if it weren't for the fact that earlier in the same season there was a clone of Martha who had Martha's memories and yet acted completely differently than Martha, showing that she was in fact not Martha but her own person. In the "Almost People" arc in season 6, we get a copy of Eleven with his memories, who again acts unlike Eleven and is his own person. In one of the new specials, we get copies of Fourteen and Donna, who also have their memories but are not them. So this whole "memories are what make the person" argument in Tentoo's favor just falls flat.

He had Ten's memories and yet still committed genocide. An act Ten was enraged at him for. So clearly they are in disagreement here, so Ten's memories didn't seem to do him any good as he still chose to do something Ten did not approve of. And why would anyone, least of all the Doctor, leave the woman he loves with a man who had just committed genocide!? It makes no sense to me for him to do that. If anything, one would have thought the Doctor would want to keep Rose as far away from Tentoo as possible after that.

"You changed me. You made me better. Now you can change him." Excuse me, Doctor, but it is not Rose's job to change him! She doesn't owe it to you, to him, or to anyone else to make make him better. She made you better by influence, not because she actively went "I can fix him." And expecting her to, is just wrong and that is not the healthy basis for a relationship.

The biggest reason, however, that I don't like this ending is that Rose wasn't given a choice. Ten didn't let her choose between him and Tentoo. He didn't tell her that Tentoo was human and then asked her if she wanted to stay and live her life with Tentoo. Nope. He told she was going to. "But she kissed Tentoo!" Only because he was the one who told her how he felt about her. Ten purposefully avoided answering her. And even after she kissed Tentoo and realized that Tardis was leaving with Ten and Donna in tow, she chased after them and looked heartbroken when she realized they were gone. Even RTD and Billie Piper have said that the ending was a cope out and that Rose wasn't given a choice. That if she had been, she would have chosen to return to the Tardis with Ten and Donna.

Perhaps if we had gotten a spin-off show about Rose and Tentoo's life, I could have warmed up to this ending, but we didn't. Instead all we got was Ten losing her again (this time of his own choosing) and then immediately losing Donna afterward and him being all alone. So yeah, not a happy ending in my book. If you like it, that's fine. I for one just cannot.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I��m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

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[magicalmanhattanproject]

the way you worded talking about grian implied that he used to be doing something that was not feeding off people online. what was he doing before that? what changed? why doesn't he go out where people can see him? (and, if it isn't already answered by the first question, what's his first choice method?) i might be reading into things that aren't there, but I'm curious.

So. If you're gonna be the one manipulating people, it helps if they can't trace it back to you. You can have some personal flair of course, but you don't wanna look so incredibly obvious that your every single move is gonna be under constant scrutiny.

In Grian's defense, no one he asked gave him a straight answer. But like, he only asked other Web people and Web people are terrible at giving straight answers. Even before he went, he knew he was looking for an excuse to poke his head in where it didn't belong and cause trouble. A lot of his Web friends will roll their eyes at him and tell him he's more cut out for the Ceaseless Watcher but he'll just laugh at them and ask "When have I ever just watched?" They usually concede the point.

So yeah. He'd heard the warnings over and over again. Don't go near the Goatmother's Peak. Do not go near the Goatmother's Peak. Don't even think about the Goatmother's Peak if you know what's good for you. But no one ever bothered to tell him why.

Anyway, he chartered a private plane from Impulse to drop him in by glider. The fall took far longer than it should have, of course. Long enough that Grian wasn't sure he would ever land. Long enough for the open sky to become a terror. But the Goatmother's Peak rose up to meet him some three days later and the transparent glider rendered him almost invisible as he landed on top of the Peak. Maybe he should have come in from underneath, but the rumors said that the good Doctor hardly ever left his lab.

Since then, he's often wondered if it would have been better or worse if those rumors had been wrong. Given what Doc is capable of, it probably would have been objectively much worse. But there is something that Grian particularly loathes in the fact that he can’t be sure that Doc even has any idea this ever happened. He likes to be in control of what’s going on. 

He felt that sense of control slipping away when he realized that he didn’t exactly have an exit plan. It was hardly the first time he’d thrown himself into a dangerous situation with no plan beyond talking himself back out of it, but “hey come pick me up from the Goatmother’s Peak” is– He doesn’t have anyone he could pull that kind of favor from who could actually carry it out. A Web friend would have tried to convince him that this meant it was subconsciously a suicide mission, but honestly he just hadn’t been thinking much beyond his own curiosity. 

All he gets is more questions. The first of which is “Why does it hurt so much?”followed by “Was I screaming?” and “Did anyone hear me scream?” and “Is that my blood on the ground?” and quite a few more related questions all in very quick succession. Okay, he doesn’t get no answers. For example, yes, the blood pooling in the divot between the Goatmother’s horns where he’s been hiding is very much his own and it’s spilling from two massive lacerations on his back from which weird lumpy mounds of flesh are writhing and flailing and he slowly realizes that he can feel them writhe and flail and it hurts. 

He doesn’t bleed out. He’s not sure how. The blood is enough to stain his white sweater through completely. But by the end of it, he has two huge wings hanging limply between his shoulder blades. He tries to stumble to his feet, but the wings weigh him down and he slips in the blood. Bangs his knee hard against the stone. Bangs his head a second later. Passes out.

Wakes up in a hotel a few miles away with a pounding headache and, yes, still a pair of oversized wings that are barely supported by the muscles of his mid back that are absolutely not designed for it. There’s a note waiting for him on the bedside table.

“Don’t come back ^-^ -E”

He doesn’t. 

The wings do though, every time he tries to rip them off. He learns to live with them eventually, though never to fly. But he doesn’t really like the way people stare. He’s not quite as curious about Doc anymore either. If this is what happens when you just get close to him, what could he do on purpose?

[mod-autumn]

Alright, so

Neb doesn’t have a ton of lore. The basic idea for them is that in the real world they had problems with dissociation and mild hallucinations which translated into the circus, forming the liminal spaces.

Neb wandered around the main circus a lot too but only the secluded areas, leading them to meet Cardlan. Shenanigans ensue (but not really)

Neb really enjoyed the liminal spaces because it allowed them to be alone but also be entertained, until it started becoming much harder to get out of them.

Then Neb met Alpenglow and Lemonade later, helping Alpen get out of the liminal spaces and Lemonade explore the liminal spaces.

a few days later Neb started seeing a tall gangly figure out of the corner of their eyes, they didn’t think much of it, until the figure began chasing them and an inhuman speed through the liminal spaces, Neb’s adrenaline causing them to rapidly shift through liminal spaces.

Neb eventually noclipped out and didn’t go back in for a while.

When they did, that’s when they met Clown. Still anxious about the figure, they warned Clown, but Neb later forgot about it.

that’s about where we are right now I think….

Now

Onto Pyxel’s lore… this is gonna be very hard bc he’s been around since the beginning of the circus, and also I will probably not remember stuff so Pyxel was created after the first episode of TAOCC, in-canon. Caine created him as basically an antivirus (doctor) after the whole Kaufmo fiasco. Pyxel wasn’t really sentient ai until sometime later, when more people arrived.

not a ton of lore happens until the whole Tiger event.. which correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think a lot of people know about bc it was so early. Tiger, Pyxel’s best friend who is a cat plushie, abstracted and that was basically the first hit of trauma for Pyxel.

I can’t remember a whole lot..

but Pyxel and Thanatos get together, more people arrive, so on and so forth.

fun fact! The first impression Pyxel got of Bob was when Bob was an abstraction and chased Pyxel

More stuff happens ig idk i can’t remember— I’m sorry—

Thanatos ended up abstracting at some point, but a new friend Dolus helped resurrect him so yay!

just trying to hit the highlights. Hammer anon and another anon come in to the doctors office with fatal wounds, Hammer eventually tripping and busting his DAMN SKULL OPEN on his hammer, which Pyxel fixed.

Pyxel spent the next few hours relentlessly cleaning the office of blood, when Nymn walks in on him with a gift, however she drops these gifts and tries to get Pyxel to take a break, resulting in Pyxel breaking down.

more stuff happens

sometime later, oh wow who could that be— why, Pyxel, it’s your old pal Bob! Say, why’s he got that shovel? Why is he screaming about where Nymn is and hitting you with a shovel?

Yeah Bob was like.. possessed or smth idk I wasn’t in in the whole lore there and was asking where Nymn was. When Pyxel didn’t know, Bob drove the shovel into Pyxel’s chest screen, killing him.

Thanatos found Pyxel dead later, and with the help of Mage’s spell book they resurrected him.

Pyxel being Pyxel, he forgave Bob when Bob came to him for antidepressants, and talking about how he loathed himself. more stuff happens yadda yadda yadda

Then there was the whole thing with the pirates, which apparently Pyxel is like a badass fighter now or smth

cut to, Bob is abstracted again! And he goes to Pyxel’s office and grabs him with abstraction tentacles or smth, nearly ripping Pyxel’s tail off. Bob then attacked Grif and Thanatos, I think Thanatos ended up locking the abstraction in a room while Pyxel helped Grif..

now it’s the eclipse festival, or it was, which I is where we leave off

PHEW THAT WAS A LOT….

I MISSED A WHOLE LOT OF STUFF BUT MY MEMORY IS AWFUK SO IM SORRY—

HEY. READ THIS.

First off, sorry for the tags, I just want this to be seen.

Okay, so I discussed this with some of the other mods yesterday, and I intend to go through with my plans. I’m going to attempt to organize and figure out the story/lore of Taocc, in full (or as close as I can get to it). This includes straightening out any continuity problems, retcons, etc.

I have to go do stuff now, but I’m going to request that all of you give me as much of Taocc lore/story and your character lore as you can. It’s gonna be inconvenient, especially for those of us with more characters. But it kinda needs to be done.

~Elsie

@star-on-a-beach @feiar @sh4tt3rg1rl @ciagent8 @theautumnaldemon @spellsunderthestars @fields-of-lilies-are-pretty @ idk who else y’all help me lol

[a-libra-writes]

Hello Libra, how are you? I wanted to know if you have any HCs for a modern Sandor and how a relationship with him would be in this scenario. I think that, despite the change in time period, there would still be some difficulty there, considering Gregor and the traumas Sandor carries because of him.

I love everything you write, your blog is definitely one of my favorites, you have a great understanding of the characters personalities and motivations.

Thank you! ❤❤❤

hi there! thanks for leaving such a nice message~~ im glad youre enjoying this silly place ive put together lol

Hmmm so, I can see the Clegane family being working class and have difficulty getting by. They started lowborn in ASOIAF, after all. Sandor's father was instructed with keeping the grounds of a country club or something, and like in the canon, he saved Tytos Lannister's life. In return, Tytos got him a much better paying job elsewhere, perhaps at his own estate.

Sandor still could've been abused and burned by Gregor, and CPS would've been brought in. His father waved it off as an accident, even though he knew better - which just ruined Sandor's faith in him. From a young age Gregor would be violent and get himself kicked out of any "nice" school their father tried to pay for. Then he got kicked out of the public schools. It's honestly amazing he graduated at all, and a lot of that was because of their father and the Lannisters paying the right people. Right away he began working as a bodyguard for them.

Sandor would've had an awful time growing up from the trauma of Gregor's abuse, his dad looking the other way, his mother leaving, his sister dying in an "accident" (or just leaving with their mom), the Lannisters being awful, and so on. I think he ran away a lot, but came back, unsure of where he'd go. If anyone even wanted him. I can see him spending a while on the streets as a teenager, getting into fights. Drinking at a very early age.

Once he's an adult, he also ends up bodyguarding for the Lannisters, even if he hates it. But he doesn't know where else to go or what to do, and has little self-worth.

I think that, even though it's modern times and medicine and facial reconstruction is better, Sandor resisted a lot of it. He's terrified of doctors now and hates hospitals. As an adult, he knows he can get surgery to make his life easier. I think he just wouldn't think he was worth it, even if his severe phobias weren't a problem...

He definitely lives on his own in a fairly crappy apartment. Technically the Lannisters pay well but he barely touches the money. He probably has an old shelter dog or two that he looks after. A motorcycle he likes working on. A few people on the street he recognizes and gives water and money. He'd be a lot more aware of his drinking problem but would still indulge in it when he's especially depressed, though the dogs help him a bit.

(tho if the Lannisters weren't involved, i can see the Cleganes being quite poor and both brothers going into military service... With sandor just hating it and leaving after 5 or so years. Then not knowing what to do with himself, and doing various odd jobs and getting into fucking trouble all the time. You get me.)

Sandor in ASOIAF is quite aggressive and violent, before eventually becoming depressed and defeated. I think for modern!AU, because he doesn't have the repeated trauma of having to kill people for the Lannisters and fight in battles, he just goes straight to the depression and self-loathing. There's still moments of anger (like when he's beating the shit out of a punk that tried to harass a dancer at his work) but it's not as nasty or sustained. Also this being a modern setting, he knows there are resources for getting mental health help, but ... like hell he's gonna do it.

So, relationship. Yeah. He's a mess, you can see it as soon as you meet him. It's a cliche, but someone whose genuinely compassionate and patient would help a lot. They could live in his apartment building, work at the shelter he drops donations off to (he totally makes excuses that he bought the toys/blanket/food for his dogs but they didnt like it... yeah ok...), a bartender or dancer who works at the same club he's a bouncer at, etc etc. Basically someone who can talk to him every other day and slowly get him to come out of his grumpy-ass, tired, depressed shell.

Friends with benefits is easy for him, because whatever, it's sex. It's the emotional connection that he struggles with. So befriending him, then slowly leading into a romantic relationship, will probably get him spooked and come with challenges. But once you're both on the same page and you're able to convince him that it's okay, he deserves happiness and you arent afraid of him, then some progress can be made. He benefits a lot from a stable person creating a simple, peaceful home with two dogs.

[jerzwriter]

Sometimes love is for... Part 1: ... a reason.

Book: Open Heart (End of book 3)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC, and Tobias Carrick x MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Teen

Category: Eventual happy angst / AU

Summary: Casey MacTavish’s residency has ended and she is leaving Boston for a phenomenal opportunity at UCSF in San Francisco. But before she leaves, she has to say goodbye to the two men who entered her life and stole her heart during the past three years. How will it all end?

Part 1: Casey tries to make a hasty exit from Edenbrook, but Ethan can’t let her go before expressing his regret, and how he truly felt.

Warnings: None

Words: 1945

A/N: So, I posted angsty prompts and expected to write a couple of ficlets. Instead, I took four of the prompts I received and weaved them into this. The first part doesn’t actually have one of the prompts, you will find two in part two, and two in part three. I’m contemplating making a part four (70% sure I will), and if I do, you’ll see a few more prompts there. THANK YOU to all who sent prompts! I have quite a few left and I will write them all. Just be patient with me. :) I’m posting parts one and two tonight because… I want to. Three will be up within the next two days. I hope you enjoy this!

A/N 2: I am also participating in this week's @wackydrabbles. The prompt can be found below in bold.

SERIES MASTERLIST and more information on the series.

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. 😊

Sometimes love is for... a reason.

Doctors tend to lose track of time; being awake at two in the morning or sleeping at two in the afternoon is just part of the job description. Casey couldn’t help but reflect on that as she left her final shift at Edenbrook while most of the world was heading into work.

“It figures I’d end with the overnight shift on my last day,” Casey laughed.

“Just be glad I didn’t schedule you for a double,” Ethan said with a smile that never met his eyes. “You know, for old times sake.”

“Hmm, memories,” she sighed as they came to a stop at the curb. She adjusted the cardboard bankers box resting on her hip and awkwardly rolled on the balls of her feet. “You certainly did enjoy torturing me these past three years.”

She turned to face him, then quickly placed the box in front of her, creating a barrier between them.

“So, I guess this is it,” she muttered softly.

“Yeah, after everything… this is how it ends.”

“Well, neither of us are dying, Ethan,” she said with a rueful chuckle.

“No,” he whispered, placing his hand atop hers. “Thankfully, not, though you almost crossed that off your bucket list here, too.”

“Ah, yeah,” she laughed. “I can never say that my time at Edenbrook was uneventful. I did it all here. Well, except actually die, and maybe I should get going before I tempt fate.”

Ethan looked down at her in her Edenbrook scrubs and labcoat for the last time, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her crystal blue eyes gleaming in the sun, and his heart skipped a beat. She looked every bit like the bright, sunny intern that bounded into his life three years earlier. She had been through so much yet still maintained that sunny optimism that, though loathe to admit it, had even rubbed off on him.

“Casey….”

“I know,” she stopped him, terrified of what he might say next. Her feelings had run the gamut for him, from idolization to affection to love, a brief period of disdain ushered in a renewed admiration and a deep friendship. But in recent weeks, as she transferred her work and they reminisced about times they had shared, she saw the longing in his eyes and, each time, she felt a pang in her heart. Whatever chance they had for more died long ago; she had moved and unintentionally fell in love, then had her heart shattered by someone else. Ethan would always have a piece of her heart. Still, after the emotional rollercoaster the past few weeks had provided, she couldn’t take one more poignant, painful revelation.

“I know,” she continued. “I’m going to have the brightest future, and I have learned all I can here. You’re proud of me, and it’s been an honor helping me become the doctor I am today. You’ve said it all, and I’m fresh out of Kleenex, so….” she trailed.

“Yeah,” he hesitated, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “but I didn’t say I’m sorry.”

Casey bit her lower lip, letting out a small puff of air she didn’t know she was holding. “Ethan, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Two years ago, in Miami, I should have….”

“Stop! We’ve had the conversation a hundred times before, and it’s in the past….”

“It will never be in the past. All I have ever told you is that I’m sorry I did what I did, when, in reality… I’m only sorry that I stopped.”

Casey took a step back, her eyes growing wide. “You… you what?”

He looked away from her, fixating his gaze on a bird soaring high above the Boston sky.

“The truth is… I let my cowardice rob us both of what could have been….” he returned to face her. “You’re the best student I have ever had and one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. I cherish the friendship we have built, but you will always be my most painful and my most beautiful what if.”

Casey sighed and pursed her lips, wiping a tear from her eye. Deep down, she felt the same way, but this was no time to accept it. Saying goodbye to one man she loved was difficult enough, but two? This was precisely what she had been hoping to avoid. Reluctantly turning to her side, she lowered the box to the ground. Reaching up, she wrapped him up in the warmest embrace they had ever shared, save for that one time when they thought it could be their last.

“Things happen the way they’re supposed to happen,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m so grateful for you, to have you in my life… Sometimes, it’s better to not ask what if. Instead, let’s be happy for what we have because it is so precious to me.”

“We could have been so good together.”

“I know,” she said sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood. She pulled back with a smile. “I’m leaving Boston tomorrow, Ethan. And I’m leaving with you as my dearest, dearest friend. You… you have been this huge part of my life. I learned so much from you, and not just about medicine. Ethan, we were meant to come together, and I’m so glad we did. As much as I wanted us to be more, if we had taken that step, who knows how it could have ended.”

It could have ended with you staying here, at my side. It could have ended with us, together forever. He thought the words, but they did not escape his lips. His choices were his burden to bear, and he wouldn’t place them on her shoulders. He had already said enough.

“I could have spared you a lot of pain.”

“Me? I’ll admit, my ego took a hit that night, and I was hurt like hell for a while, but it’s not as if….”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and fought to prevent rolling his eyes.

“Carrick. I wish I could have spared you having to go through….”

“Ethan,” she stopped him with a tap on his arm, “you had nothing to do with Tobias and me. Nothing. We got together on our own, and we made our mistakes on our own. None of that is on you.”

“If you had been with me, you could have been spared….”

“Spared what, Ethan? Tobias never hurt me.”

He looked at her incredulously, “Really?”

“Really. He was honest with me from the start. This was never going to be more than fun and companionship. Maybe more than friends with benefits, but never more than what it was. It’s not his fault I fell in love…he just didn’t feel the same about me.” Her voice cracked a little, but her pride refused to let another tear shed from her eyes.

“Forgive me for thinking he is nothing short of a moron for not falling for you.”

Casey laughed and brushed Ethan’s cheek. “Be that as it may, I’m glad things turned out as they have.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Personally? Nothing turned out as I had hoped for here, but that’s life. I didn’t intend to fall for him, just like I hadn’t intended to fall for you before,” she shook her head with a sardonic laugh. “I didn’t want you to turn me away, and I hoped that he’d eventually feel the way that I did about him. But that’s not what fate had in store.”

She bit the inside of her cheek forcefully, willing herself to remain strong, but from the corner of her eye, a single tear betrayed her.

“Goddamn it!” She said, wiping it away with a nervous laugh. “Here I am trying to sound so damn mature and strong, and lacrimation does me in!”

“It’s a normal process, Casey, how our body responds. And tears… they don’t make us weak or immature, they’re a sign of how strong we are.”

“Yeah? Well, that sucks,” she chuckled, “nevertheless. I’m going to miss you, Ethan Ramsey.”

He pulled her into a warm embrace.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he breathed. “But hey,” he smiled, pulling away, “who knows, one day I’ll finally visit San Francisco….”

“And if you don’t call me, I will find you, and I will hurt you.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Well,” she smiled. “This is goodbye. But do you mind if I don’t say it? Besides, it’s not forever. You’ll always be a part of my life.”

He smiled warmly. “Are you sure I can’t drive you home?”

“No. It’s my last day, and me, and my little box here, are going to take my last walk home from Edenbrook. Nostalgia and all.”

“All right then. At least you have a perfect day to do it on. Please, call me when you settle in.”

“I will.”

Casey turned on her heel and made her way home. A million thoughts of dreams that never materialized weighed on her heart and mind. But she soldiered on, doing all she could to look forward and not back.

_____

Ethan was right about one thing; it was a spectacular spring morning. The air was still crisp, but the sun shone brightly on the abundant green leaves that covered the trees once again. The grey, barren branches that marred the landscape just weeks before now felt like a distant memory.

Springtime. Renewal. A new life: that’s what was awaiting Casey in San Francisco. UCSF was waiting, and its focus on helping underserved communities was everything she hoped for. Her new home awaited, no matter how difficult it was to leave the old. Tomorrow at this time, an entire nation would lie between her future and her soon-to-be past.

Cambridge Street was bustling with more traffic than usual, both by car and foot. It felt like something prevented her from reaching her destination with every step. Casey snorted, and her lips settled into a sad, twisted smile as she reflected on the irony. It was as if the city was conspiring to keep her there. The city, she thought. No matter how much she loved Boston, it didn’t have that strong a hold on her, she could leave it behind. But two people could have made her stay, yet neither found reason to do so. It caused her heart to ache, but she had grown to accept it. Her Mom was right, never force anyone to stay. They didn’t believe that love was enough, and she deserved someone who did. That sounded better than what she really felt, that deep down, neither of them truly wanted her at all.

She finally made it to the front of her building, pausing to stare at the ornate door that had welcomed her home each day for the past three years for one last time. All the memories this place held! Her dear friends had already moved on to their new homes. Sienna was in Chicago, Jackie and Aurora in LA, and Elijah, the only one remaining at Edenbrook, moved into his new apartment across town with Bryce. She was the last to go. Bryce and Elijah offered to stay the night with her, but she turned the offer down. She was a big girl; it would be fine. With one last look around, she swallowed and began to walk toward the door of the a place that had become sacred to her. A place that would always be home in her heart. She had one more night to spend there… and she would make it. Alone.

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[whump-a-la-mode]

Could we pretty please get a villain whumpee in a straightjacket?

Oh I had so many ideas for this one, so I hope you like what I came up with! It’s a bit of a different kind of whump, but I hope it’s still good :3

CW//Dehumanization, baby talk, medical settings, straightjackets, medical malpractice

Villain hardly got to see the outside of the building.

Nearly as soon as the vehicle sped up to its front, they were trundled from its interior, feet stumbling to asphalt for a moment before the privilege of walking was taken from them-- their body swept up in a pair of strong arms.

They hated being carried. No, there was not enough strength in that word. They detested it. Loathed it. Those weren’t enough either. No, they felt that, if they were to encapsulate their sheer fury at the situation with language, they would need to begin digging in dictionaries of obscure Kanji.

But there was no time for that, because they were being carried right now.

Usually, Villain would have struggled. Writhed and squirmed until they were dropped to the floor. Or thrown. Whichever happened quicker.

Yet, unfortunately, at that very moment, there was no time for that either. No. At the moment, there were much more acutely focused on an emotion other than rage. One that went by the name of terror.

Every villain knew of the Metropolis Rehabilitation Center for Extraordinary Cases. After all, they were the extraordinary cases.

But no one ever thought they would see the thing in person. Much less be carried into it by Hero, of all the noble, goody two shoed assholes.

It was a gargantuan structure-- towering blocks of concrete, stacked upon each other, and covered with shimmering white tile, bright enough to blind anyone who dared to look upon it directly. There was one thing worse than that tile, surface dancing like freshly fallen snow.

The only thing worse than the Center’s exterior was its front door. The pair of them, in fact, glass and steel. That fact was terrifying in and of itself. Being close enough to those doors to examine them was a fate no villain expected to ever have to face.

The second time that Villain began to thrash, there was no fury in it. Nothing was locked around their body, not a chain or cuff in sight, but Hero’s grip was more than enough to turn the menace of the city into the much larger equivalent of a kitten, held by the scruff of its neck.

“Let me go! I don’t want to go!” Their thoughts flew from their mouth as freely as their panicked voice. “T-The prison! Wouldn’t that be much better?”

“Come on.”

The villain shivered at the soft voice, a second quiver shaking their spine when a hand stroked its way through their sweat-soaked hair.

“They’ll love you here.” Hero’s voice curled, coaxing a frightened dog. “I’m sure you’re be their new favorite.”

There wasn’t an ounce of perceptible mockery in the tone. As though a hero genuinely gave the slightest shit. As if they weren’t taking them to the place half-drunken villains told horror stories about, only to be accused of fabrication. ‘It can’t possibly be that bad.’

But everyone knew, everyone knew full well, that there was no falsehood in those stories.

They didn’t want to be a favorite. They were a villain! Even as they approached the double doors, Villain could not help but fantasize about the 10 foot high walls of the Metropolis Villainous Correctional Facility, topped with their electrified barbed wire.

It would be horrible, certainly, but it wouldn’t be the Center!

Yet, with a tinny bell, the hellish building’s entrance swung open.

Inside, the Metropolis Rehabilitation Center for Extraordinary Cases smelled like flowers. The particular scent was unrecognizable-- neither rose nor marigold, lavender or coral-bell. Yet, the aroma was overwhelming.

Villain’s struggling turned to thrashing.

The walls were blue. A light, baby blue, with a sickeningly joyful air about it. Abstract paintings and plaques hung along hallways and lobby walls, marked by tacky statements of motivation.

‘Mistakes are proof that you are trying.’

‘Make it happen!’

‘I can and I will.’

The captive villain felt sick. Their straining was useless, not gaining them an inch of freedom even as it cost them feet of dignity. Not that they expected to keep hold of that for long.

The lobby itself was bright, disgustingly colorful. The walls were lined with chairs painted in blinding technicolor, while the front desk itself danced with decals of butterflies and birds.

“Let me go!” Another screech tore itself from their throat.

A receptionist, lab-coat the color of a summer sunflower, looked up with a warm smile.

“I see our newest friend is here.” They chirped. “I’ll call up our welcoming party.”

“No need!”

From one of various, straight hallways, clattering footsteps sounded. Two lab coats, dyed in that same sickening, jaundiced color, ran forward at a jog. Shame forgotten, Villain buried their face in Hero’s chest. Anything to not have to see the doctors. Anything.

“Oh, what a cutie!” One of the lab coats exclaimed. “Aren’t they a sweetheart?”

“Oh, Villain, you’re going to have so much fun here.” A second voice smiled.

“I’m sure they are.” Hero’s hand stroked once more through their hair, though it did nothing to aid their incessant trembling. “Come on, bud, there’s no reason to be scared.”

“I fucking hate you!”

Three voices turned to roaring laughter.

“Come on, they’ve even brought you something.”

“Yeah.” One of the doctors chirped. “It’s a nice jacket, to keep you warm. We don’t want you getting cold.” Their tone switched on its head, from high-pitched to clinical, as they whispered: “Put them down, please.”

Gently, Villain felt themself lowered to the floor. In an instant, they were kicking out, struggling, straining, screaming and screeching. Their attempts to get to their feet, however, were thwarted by firm hands on their shoulders and a leg across their own.

They didn’t need to see the jacket to know what it was. As soon as the canvas touched their skin, they knew. Yet, it was a three on one. No amount of hysterics could stop the sleeves from slipping onto their arms, compressing their hands against the sewn-shut ends. Leather rubbed against metal buckles, canvas ribbing against itself, as, with terrifying speed, the jacket was applied.

The straightjacket.

It was far too taut, tight enough that, in their hyperventilation, Villain felt that it made them unable to breathe.

“Take it off!” They wailed. They noticed only then that the garment around them now was dyed the same color as the walls-- that unnerving, baby blue.

“Shh, shh, it’s just a jacket, buddy.” The hand in their hair was unfamiliar and nerve-wracking.

They had their legs, still. Only half of them pulled in terrible, suffocating tightness. Fury focused, Villain kicked out, desperate to get their legs under them.

They had no chance.

And, of course, their last ounce of dignity had to be wrought from them.

Villain’s shoes had been lost hours ago, though they couldn’t remember the exact scenario. Perhaps during the fight, perhaps afterwards, when they were thrown into the car and harnessed to its restraints.

It didn’t matter. To the doctors, so it seemed, all that mattered was that they could stand. And, to them, that was a problem.

They looked like socks, and, going on, they felt to be as such. Yet, as Villain at last got their feet under them, they realized otherwise. The bottom of the garments seemed to be formed in such a way that, when they tried to stand, their legs shook with the effort of simply retaining their balance. The curves and form of their feet, countered by fabric and plush.

“W-What the- What did you-” Villain gasped.

“Oh, those are just your wobblers, honey.” One of the lab coats smiled. “See? They make you wobble!”

“I’m gonna fall, you piece of shit!”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear.” Another voice, followed by a pair of arms, braced against their back. “You won’t fall. We’re here to help.”

“I don’t want your help!”

“This one’s funny.” The voice came with a smile. “Come on, then.”

Another pair of arms, practically lifting them. Their legs felt to be singed by lapping flames from the strain upon their muscles alone.

“We have a room all set up for you! And once you get your medicine, you’ll feel so much better.”

“So, so much better.”

It was with hysterical shrieks, rapidly weakening, that the patient that had once been Villain was helped down the hallway.

They would never again see the outside of the building. The nice doctors would make sure of that!

[snow-and-saltea]

for the character asks vyn diluc lumine and kaeya!!

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE thank you for giving me the chance to talk about my blorbos!!!

vyn richter:

who? | only know their name | loathe | ugh | overrated | indifferent | dead | alive | just okay | cute | badass | my baby | hot | want to marry | favorite 

yeah i bolded the who? one don't worry about it!! /j anyways yeah i Like this man a normal amount its not like ive written sm threads on him already yeah. i'm completely normal

except i'm NOT

i started out thinking my fave would be artem cus vyn seemed too pretentious for me at first and i still have trauma from the last time i liked a white haired and golden eyed guy in otome cus that bitch disappointed me so much i literally can't even look at him without going >:T

he's such a cool character to me, i love how contradictory he is while being completely consistent characterization wise. by contradictory i don't mean that he doesn't say what he mean or doesn't mean what he says, but the way he views himself vs how he views rosa vs how he views other people (derogatory) is quite ironic. i love how he loves rosa because she's beautiful both inside and out, in the sense that she is straight laced, honest and not mired with existential or moral complexities that stop her from being kind, realistic and faithful to her values. (in fact, when facing those moral complexities, her true character shines more because of the way she isn't stagnated by indecision or analysis-paralysis. but that's another talk for another day i could literally go on and on about her)

i like it a lot because he's both a bit of rosa in him and a bit of the cynical jadedness he dislikes in other people. as a doctor, he wants to cure his patients, and he secretly harbours some hope, at the back of his mind, that people are better than he thinks they are, that when presented the opportunity for change and growth they'll choose it— which is why i think he "tests'" rosa in his stories so much. cus he wants to see a diff outcome come from her!! to him, i feel like there's a bit of him idealism projected onto her, smth like saying: "i tried and failed, but i want to see how you do it, and what new thing you'll show me with your way of doing things." in ideals and visions, he relates to rosa.

however, in many ssr stories, and even one sr (the iconic false tears story) he shows the pettiest and most spiteful parts of himself that he's tried to keep hidden from rosa, where he indulges his egocentric beliefs that makes him feel like the things he's doing are justified, as long as the end goal is a positive net of "justice" in the world. he also sometimes shows how incredibly judgemental and harsh he can be, because he always thinks he knows better and is more objective / morally superior than other people he dislikes. in practice and methodology, he relates to the people he dislikes. it's like a mirror that shows the ugliest parts of himself. if he dislikes them like any other normal person would dislike an asshole and then move on with their life, why would that be such a big psychological trigger for him? it clearly means more to him than he tries to hide, so he tries to make a clear line separating his own "cruelty" and other people's "cruelty" and how he's better than them cus he had the right intentions in mind.

(that's not how it works btw babygirl. but issokay ur kinda fucked up i'd like to put u under a microscope)

i like how he slowly comes to realise that contradiction, too. not verbally said, but i interpret his recent growth in stories as someone who knows he's "ugly" inside and filled contempt for everyone—although sometimes he dresses his actions in a more gentlemanly or "fair" so that it's still TECHNICALLY the right thing to do even if the way he did it was unethical. at first their relationship progression was "i want her to see the most impressive parts of me" > "i want her to rely on and be influenced by me" > "i want her to know my feelings but only the ones that are peer reviewed to be palatable" > "i want her to see me for who i am and accept me, even if i can't accept the entire truth of myself". and i think that fuckign ROCKS

concluding statement: if the road to hell was paved with good intentions vyn is building a freeway. but rosa is changing his lanes!!! she changed my lanes too if u know what i mean wink wink nudge nudge

anyways yeah im mentally sound and in perfect health about vynrosa why do you ask

diluc ragnvindr:

who? | only know their name | loathe | ugh | overrated | indifferent | dead | alive | just okay | cute | badass | my baby | hot | want to marry | favorite 

i like him!!! iirc he was my second 5* after jean? and then i used him as a dps for a while! i wish they gave him fluffier or longer hair. i think in game diluc doesn't really do enough justice to his characterization or lore bc i feel like he looks a bit "bland" in story execution compared to the other charas. oh well, virtues and vices of being an early game chara! i like him best when he's in big brother mode and i cannot thank fanartists enough who portray him being a good big bro to the kids like klee, diona, bennett, fischl and razor. i love it!!!

lumine:

who? | only know their name | loathe | ugh | overrated | indifferent | dead | alive | just okay | cute | badass | my baby | hot | want to marry | favorite 

she's so goddamn FUNNY and cute?????? i like the progression of her character and her growing into her own personality in the recent quests, i think they wrote it really well. have you listened to her voice lines where she talks w paimon? they show sm of her personality and she's just so... witty and dry and sarcastic but her voice is so soft that it makes u double-back and go, "sorry, run that by me again?" i love her sm. although, i don't really interact w the fandom a lot because they're very noisy in hating her for some reason. and it gets tiring to hear TwT i get my lumine food from anng rt'ing stuff on twt or on tumblr! consuming fandom the exact way it was intended: i only see what my friends will share w me!!!

kaeya alberich:

who? | only know their name | loathe | ugh | overrated | indifferent | dead | alive | just okay | cute | badass | my baby | hot | want to marry | favorite 

another case of sadly being an early game chara so his execution was a bit sloppy TwT his lore is so funkin cool and his personal story and how he got his vision was, imo, the coolest and most emotionally impactful out of everyone else? ofc he and shenhe shares similar patterns in their history and how they were treated, but i think it hits harder for me bc like. GOD. overridden by guilt for the death of diluc's dad, he confronts him and tells him the truth of who he is. and at the emotional height of his life where diluc turns to fight him, he's given a vision if only to protect himself and his heart so that he can still go on and fulfill whatever "destiny" his dad had marked out for him, if he chooses that as his right.

i still think its meaningful bc even in game diluc never shows any signs that he genuinely, truthfully, dislikes kaeya. so while they still have this unspoken history between them that neither of them seem willing to talk about, there's a nostalgic and sad feeling of people who drifted apart brushing by each other time and again, and silently forgiving the other but not making it known at all. i can't find it rn but there's sm diluc and kaeya comics where its all about sibling hurt / comfort and reconciliation and making it known that they care about each other verbally, instead of accepting it as is in actions, bc they're hesitant to break the ice. GOD

[alstroemeriadissonance]

[Deleted scene from 100 flowers...]

@meryuukan requested to see the full scene that I cut out (mentioned in the comments thread here) from 100 flowers. So here it is--for context I am posting the entire scene with the cut bit and rewrote the ending of this particular scene as if I went with it.

As for the why I cut it out--simply put, it was already 4 AM, I had a shift at 6AM and I still didn't get any sleep, and I was of the mindset of why the fuck am I writing something that is literally tearing myself apart emotionally when I could be writing smut goddamn

Also I didn't like it much because it was just my dark mood running myself to the ground and it felt like me projecting

But here it is now--enjoy...?

Raindrops now mingled with the blood on his fingers and palms, trickling down to his arms and onto the ground into rivulets of pink, rose-colored rivers of his heartbreak that he vowed would never be uttered by his very lips–lest he fully acknowledge it, and he would have to relive the unbearable pain and anguish all over again.

“…Dr. Richter?” came the voice that he now loathed to hear.

I must be hearing things. Vyn ignored the voice, and carried on with his single-minded task of removing the roses from his garden.

“Dr. Richter!” The voice only grew louder.

Wearily Vyn set aside his shears and turned to look at the unwelcome guest. “Rosa,” he began. “To what do I owe the honor of being graced by your presence?”

“Never mind that, you’re going to get sick if you carry on like this!” Rosa held out her umbrella to shield him from further assault by the rain. “Come, let’s get you–oh my god, what happened to your hands?” Rosa’s free hand flew to her lips; the wounds looked terrible, even warranting a trip to the hospital.

“Never mind me, Rosa,” Vyn’s voice was already grating. “What are you doing here?”

Seeing that he wouldn’t budge from where he stood, Rosa gave up on pulling him towards shelter. “Marius…Marius told me that you will be leaving–”

“That fucking idiot,” Vyn muttered.

Hearing him swear in such a manner took Rosa aback. “Dr. Richter, please–”

Vyn raised his hand to stop her from further speaking. “This is none of your concern Rosa, and it never has been. Our relationship is no more than doctor and patient, and even then this relationship will soon be terminated.”

“…what do you mean?”

“What I mean, Rosa,” Vyn struggled to pull the words out his very being, his patience already frayed. “is that I am also leaving the research institute. I will be handing over your therapy to another specialist, if you are worried about me dropping the ball just like that.”

Rosa visibly panicked at his words. “Of course I am not worried about that, Dr. Richter!” she found her voice rising. “I find this totally unnecessary–would it make things better if I left instead of you?”

Vyn took a deep breath. “Rosa.”

“Yes?”

“Rosa, please do not misunderstand. You no longer have the right to talk with me in this manner,” Vyn hissed through his teeth. “You have no right to ask me personal questions. You and I, we are just casual colleagues. Do you hear me?”

“…yeah. I hear you.”

And yet, Vyn is seeing Rosa struggling to suppress her own sobs.

“Why are you crying?” came his callous question.

“I can’t help it, Vyn,” came her answer. “I’m suddenly remembering bits and pieces of how we were, but I don’t know exactly how to feel about you. And Artem has been with me all throughout and, frankly, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Vyn regarded the quietly weeping Rosa with a gaze so unfeeling it made her feel sick.

“I am sorry, Rosa, but if I need to rephrase what I said–I do not give a shit.”

“Fine, I get the message.” Rosa’s lips were trembling. "But Vyn--you are being too unfair. I did not ask for this to happen. Why are you blaming me for having amnesia?"

No longer being able to keep up his stone-faced facade, Vyn's face twisted in agony.

"I AM NOT BLAMING YOU FOR ANYTHING!"

His outcry came out more like a cry of pain than of anger.

"I am not blaming you for anything!" He repeated, his voice now strangled in sheer emotion. "This is what is tearing me apart, Rosa, this is what is driving me insane! THERE IS NO WAY TO FIX THIS!"

"I want to help, but--" Rosa was about to reach out to Vyn, but stopped after seeing the man flinch before she could even touch him.

"How? How can you make amends when you haven't done anything wrong?!" Vyn wrapped his arms around himself, his bloodied fingers digging to his sides, his tear-blurred gaze to the ground. "You know who is at fault here, it is me, Rosa, it is I who have willfully ignored the cautionary tale that my father was, I knew giving away my everything to the altar that is you was dangerous--and what happened?"

Vyn let out a pathetic, self-derisive, bitter laugh.

"Of course I would lose you. Such is the fate of arrogant bastards such as myself. Lose my everything."

Rosa gritted her teeth, clearly frustrated about how her every attempt to soothe the man she truly felt sorry for only turn into sharp barbs. "Are you quite done feeling sorry about yourself, Vyn Richter?"

"Oh, so you dare tell me that you understand how I feel?" Vyn spat. "Then tell me, Rosa, since you obviously have all the answers--will you make things right by leaving Artem, and come back to me?"

Rosa bit her tongue.

"Well?" Vyn prodded, goaded. "Of course not! For you, Rosa of 2029, I probably am still the man your Artem has warned you about. You have--"

Vyn bit his lip, no longer able hold back his crying. "--forgotten everything we went through. Together. There were so many..."

The man, once looked up to as the very image of perfection, broke down and let himself fall to the mud of the garden he once tended with his own hands; the very same garden whose blooms maimed and mangled the flesh of the very same hands that nourished them.

Like everything else that his hands built up: his life, his entire career, and his carefully-tended relationship with the only other person who mattered to him more than himself--all of them, falling apart like the house of cards that was instrumental to him falling madly, deeply in love with the woman who would unintentionally break him asunder.

The woman who, in front of him, was still holding an umbrella in a vain attempt to shield either of them from the rain. Like her vain attempts for the both of them to make peace with their situation.

"I'm sorry. Dr. Richter. Vyn." Rosa began, after a full minute of witnessing Vyn fall apart in front of her, the man kneeling on the muddy ground with his face in his wounded hands.

"I want to say that I will...I will go to your side--I know you are not lying, I have seen your letters, our pictures together--but..."

Rosa clenched her fists.

"I could not feel anything. I am only confused. I don't want to do you a disservice...do him a disservice...by lying."

"What are you still doing here," Vyn's voice was muffled, his face still in his hands.

"Vyn..." Rosa tried to reach out--

"DO NOT TOUCH ME!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I--"

"There is nothing to be sorry about, Rosa. There is no one at fault. This is how tragedies usually turn out to be. It is not a matter of who is at fault. Things...just fall apart on their own. Leave me be. Please. "

“Well, at the very least can we have your wounds treated?”

“You have no right to be concerned about me, Rosa. Know your place.”

He did not move from where he knelt on the ground, but he might as well have swatted her hand away, pushed Rosa away.

That was the final nail in the coffin, as Rosa stifled a loud sob at his words, making her turn on her heel and run out of the garden.

Leaving Vyn alone, miserable, on his own.

The rain washed over him as he freely wept, his tears camouflaged by the torrential rain.