#i still have some ptsd from that job

[omg-snakes]

Do you know if there are ways to know if a snake from a pet shop has been properly taken care of or not? Asking since i've been visiting some and i saw one with a boa that had some kind of sinking or deformity on his tail, so i'm kinda wary now.

Hello, friend! I'm sorry to tell you that there is not.

I've worked in multiple areas of the pet industry and I've met the full gamut of types of shop owners, and while I don't consider all of them wicked people, some certainly are. Even the best of them have a bottom line to consider. This means that they won't divulge where their animals are coming from so that you can look into a breeder before making a choice, and they're likely buying animals from backyard breeders or bulk importers. This also means that it's unlikely that the animals they're selling will have established health histories.

Having worked at one of if not The biggest reptile chain in Northern California, I saw some horrors that scarred me for life. Among the lesser sins that took place there:

Folks who bred reptiles but didn't have incubators set up could bring their eggs in for incubation services, the price of which was half of the clutch, and the store owner would then sell the resulting babies as "born on-site," which was technically true! But we didn't know the parentage or health potential of any of these animals. We didn't sell incubators in the store for this specific reason.

Surrenders came in regularly from owners who didn't have the time or resources to care for their pets any longer. They went on the sales floor with a price tag the second the previous owner walked out the door. No veterinary care, no health evaluation, no observation period, nothing. If they looked okay they were priced at regular retail price and we were explicitly told to never admit that they had been surrendered. 100% profit.

Any animal that was injured or sickly, no matter where it came from or how it got injured, was tagged as a "surrender" that we would claim was dropped off by a bad former owner and we'd had them cleared by a vet so that we could rehome them. This was a lie. None of them ever got veterinary care, ever.

Enclosures were cleaned regularly but were never properly sterilized between animals. We sold veterinary-grade cleaner in the store but we were not allowed to use it because it was too expensive. We used diluted Lysol!

Again, this is a large reptile chain with multiple stores and mostly positive online reviews* and I wouldn't trust them with a pet rock, let alone anything breathing.

You're much better off getting a snake from a reputable breeder, or at least someone who can answer reasonable questions about feeding, parentage, genetics, any possible health issues, etc.

*the owner actually reported negative reviews and would have employees write good ones while I was there.

[kittyoverlord]

So I've been thinking about how old Theo Bradley Pierson is compared to the high school students and I made a breakthrough today lol.

I assumed that they were freshman when he was a senior (which would still be creepy), but in today's watch through I caught the line about Eric being pulled out of 8th grade to be in Theo's senior play, so the age gap is even larger (4 years instead of 3).

So best case scenario, Theo graduated at 17, and is maybe 20 or 21 (depending on when his birthday is). Evidence is pointing towards him being at least 21 but he could have had someone buy him alcohol.

Worst case scenario, he graduated at 18-19 (he gives off major super senior energy, though this likely would have been stated as a line if it was true) and is now 22-24 trying to recruit teenagers into a cult.

As someone who has been a mentor to queer youth, I want to make it clear that I think adults can have completely healthy relationships with teenagers, but Theo is obviously not approaching things with any self awareness or maturity.

Anyway, Joey is so sexy in this song.

[bedlamsbard]

Now I'm just mad and that makes me sad. :/ I really do try incredibly hard not to hate things in this fandom, which doesn't always work out because, you know, feelings, and I don't want to think about hating things! I want to think about things I like!

[maggotwithanf]

what if i bailed on all my remaining comics tour dates

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,970 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. “I want to know why,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “why you left me there.” 

John shifts behind you, silent for a long moment. 

“I got too caught up in the big picture.” He finally says. “I thought that taking out Shepherd would end everything before it went too far. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe, and I didn’t consider the lengths he’d go to, the lengths he’d let Graves go to, just to cover his own ass long enough for him to escape. I was wrong in making that decision. You’re not like us. You’ve never been left behind, tortured, had to fight your way out of an impossible situation. You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position. We all failed you. Every last one of us.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. “You left me.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. He was the only one that knew you were out here last night. 

You're not sure how that makes you feel. 

It's nice on one hand, that he saved you from the pains of sleeping on the floor. But at the same time it feels like an intrusion. There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice about it. There was a time it would have been normal and expected and you would have thanked him for it. 

Now...now you're not sure. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of betrayal still aches in your chest, as much as you still want to hate them, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you try to blink the drowsiness away. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, a lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for the middle of fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence.��

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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[is-this-yuri]

Please help me survive and escape homelessness.

GFM

KF

CA

I want to be safe by the winter of 2025.

I'm having a difficult time fundraising for my van. Repeated car troubles and various other unexpected issues have eaten into my savings multiple times, and while in a slump I wasn't making as many posts about my situation and I got significantly less donations over the last ~6 weeks on both my gofundme and my kofi/cashapp. While I've 'regained' a lot of what I lost, I've been spending about as much as is coming in. Aside from one instance, my emergency expenses were eaten by my fundraiser savings, which was then gained back about as quickly as I was spending it on my daily expenses. I still haven't reached the goal for the recent $1000 I had to spend on my car.

So far I've lost $2,200 of the $3,100 that's shown on the GFM. I'll be updating the fundraiser to reflect the loss.

I'm autistic and struggle just to meet my basic needs, and despite that I've been denied disability income multiple times. Failing to hold a job (and developing PTSD symptoms from my time being employed), and let down and abandoned by anyone who could support me, I'm left with few resources and few options. I try to make posts when I'm in a good mood, or keep people updated when I'm in a bad mood. I make videos on YouTube, hoping eventually I can show people what their money has gotten for me.

On a good month, I only spend about $600, leaving me some space to save the donations I was previously getting. With winter and the holidays coming, I'm not sure I'll be getting as much money as the warmer months, and I'll be spending more on keeping myself warm and fed over the winter. It will be more like $800/mo now. The only real solution is getting more money than I'm spending, as I'm already spending as little as I safely can.

I'll only take financial advice from someone who has lowered their expenses below mine, with the same disabilities and circumstances as me. What I need is more money, and I don't always have the energy to pay back with art and things like that. I don't even always have the energy to post my pleas for help. I don't have a sponsor to help me make these posts.

I'm in a low energy mode because what can I do with no money? In a state where I have to spend as little as possible, see such slow results, see most of it taken by things outside my control, and somehow keep up hope that this will work?

When I feel safe and have adequate shelter in a van, I'll be able to REST. And then start working harder and making more money one way or another. Whether you think I should suck it up and get a job or you want to see me become a content creator, I need money for any kind of opportunity and I'm just not getting enough.

So, thank you to everyone who's suppported me so far. Thank you to the repeat supports. I'm sorry I had to spend your money on other things. Thank you to the person who covered most of a huge expense I was stressing about a couple months ago. Thank you to the person who sent me $200 to get a hotel and told me to take care of my mental health before saving anything. Thank you to the blogs that have featured my fundraiser in your posts. Thank you to everyone who keeps boosting and cheering me on even though you can't support financially.

I don't know what else I can do to get more people like that to see me. There are so many options on the internet, but it's still a daunting task and as much as I can't really afford to rest, I have to sometimes. Often, in fact.

Please keep boosting this post until my goal is really met. Until I can spend more than $600 a month and actually earn your money rather than beg for it.

[shewroteaworld]

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

 “What I do?” You whined. 

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried. 

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 

Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon Riley who realizes how much he fucked up and that maybe therapy isn't such a bad idea

AN: Lil bit longer than usual, but it's been on my mind

Art credit to SubsurfaceChaos on Twitter

Something was off with him all day. It wasn't too noticeable until he began distancing himself, getting irritated at being around anyone. You confronted him, simply trying to see if you could help or maybe provide comfort, and fuck did that backfire.

He was sitting in the living room watching whatever was on the channel, but it's not like he was paying attention to it. Thoughts and feelings of the deployment he just came back from a few days ago build up, irritation filling him like water in a bathtub. He doesn't usually have flashbacks or anything like that, the military would discharge him if he had PTSD, but some days he thinks too much.

He didn't even notice you coming in until you were sitting next to him. He snaps out of his thoughts just to meet your soft eyes. You sat on the other end of the couch, not wanting to crowd him too much while he's like this.

"What." He deadpans, voice devoid of all emotion.

Yeah something's definitely up.

"What's wrong, Si? Somethin' been messing with you today?" You ask gently, not wanting to come off as if you're accusing him.

He gives you and irritated look, suggesting you drop it, "Nothin', 'm fine"

You're not stupid. He tends to need a little push in order to open up.

"I know you're not", tone still soft, "I'm not trying to irritate you or anything, I ju-"

"Well you certainly got an affinity for it" He snaps, "Drop it"

You inhale, trying to not take his words personally, "Si, I'm your girlfriend, it's kinda my job to check in with you"

The bathtub overflows.

"You can't listen, can you? I said drop it, fuckin' 'ell" He stands up from the couch and walks to the kitchen, trying to create distance.

"Simon I'm just trying to help, I'm not here to make things harder for you" You try to reason with him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You follow him into the kitchen but still give him space. He doesn't say anything back, a small part of him knowing you're right but the larger part won't connect to that. Pouring a class of orange juice, he keeps his back to you.

"Si-"

"Can you shut up for once?! Can you? I said bloody drop it. It's not up for discussion!" He sets the cup on the counter with a thud and snaps at you, "You're always fuckin' naggin' at me, clearly not takin' a bloody hint. Jesus Christ"

That shuts you up. The lump in your throat intensifies, tears beginning to form in your eyes. He's never yelled at you like that before. Sure, he's had bursts of irritation during arguments, but he's worked hard to make sure he never treats you how you don't deserve.

"Why are you yelling at me? All I'm doing is trying to be there for you" You ask quietly, voice not really allowing you to speak louder. a couple tears fall down your face, and your nose begins to get stuffed up. You try to quietly sniffle but he still hears it. He hangs his head down and groans quietly.

"Now you're fuckin' cryin'. Great."

Not wanting to be around him much longer, you turn to leave, "Come find me when you're calmer", Your voice betrays you and cracks a little.

You walk away and go upstairs to your shared bedroom. Once you close the door, the crying begins. His words cut through you like a knife, a deep pressure-like hurt seeping through your chest. Sobs rack your body yet you still try to be quiet, not wanting him to hear. You know he's gonna snap out of it and fuckin hate himself for what he did. You know he loves you, and if he were in his right mind he would have never uttered a single degrading word to you.

You slip into bed and lay there, crying. You guessed he would be up anytime soon and the smell of him on the pillows was both comforting and hurtful.

Downstairs though, Simon was fucking fuming. Seeing you go up the stairs, lip quivering, evaporated every bit of him anger. He groans loudly and throws an arm over his eyes.

'How fuckin' stupid can you be? How the fuck can you speak to her like that?'

He removes his arm and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. You've stuck through with him since the moment you meet. Never once judged his off stand-ish behavior and learned to find ways to work with him. He cherished you so wholly, feeling what he thought he never would. You came into his life and slowly broke down his walls, allowing you to see him apart from his exterior.

He thought he was going to lose you. Sure, you had arguments before, but he had never purposefully tried to hurt you. Knowing that he did made his stomach churn, nausea kicking in. 2 years of the best relationship (not that there were very many before you) all to be broken down, at least what he thought, because he was pissed off.

'Maybe I should fuckin' go to therapy.'

Let's be honest, he could use it. He tried to go through it before but just quit due to how uncomfortable it made him. He figured he was on his own, all before you, and there was no one to deal with his bullshit besides him. Now he has someone who he cares about so much that it doesn't matter if he's uncomfortable. He'd rather be uncomfortable than never be with you again.

He gathers the balls to go upstairs and carefully opens the door. He's met with the sight of you curled up, your sniffles being the only sound in the room.

"Go away" You call out, although not too loudly. Your voice is wobbly and stuffy.

He'd think it was adorable, had he not been the one to cause it. He walks to the opposite side of the bed and gets in, spooning you. He kisses your hair so gently it would give you butterflies if you weren't so upset.

"I'm so sorry, love. I haven't a clue why I did that to you and you didn't deserve a single lick of it." He feels the small burn in his nose as he starts tearing up a little, "I promise it'll never happen again"

You sniffle as more tears fall, the pain sticking to you despite his words.

"I wasn't trying to piss you off" You whisper.

"I know baby, it wasn't you. I promise it wasn't. Could never be that mad at you" He says softly, a tear falling. He grips you a little bit tighter and kisses the back of your neck, trying to bring comfort to both of you.

"Then why did you yell at me? I've never heard you like that before."

He sighs, "Been thinkin' 'bout what happened while I was gone and it came out at you. 'M gonna go back to therapy 'n try to fix what ever the hell is wrong with me" He kisses your neck again, " 'M gonna do better, gonna be better"

He's not stupid, he knows his words aren't gonna go away overnight. He knows how much you love him, even if he doesn't understand it, and knows hearing that from him hurts more than it would anyone else. He knows you're gonna be affected by them for a bit and he's prepared to fix it. Anything for his love.

You turn around so you're both still on your sides but you're cuddled into his chest. Wasting no time, not even hesitating, he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. He lets out a sigh of relief, knowing this is your way of accepting his apology. He softly kisses your forehead and cheek, whispering how much he loves you and how it's gonna be better.

He knows he can't run from his issues anymore and for once he's ready to face them.

[itsagoodluckkiss]

Hi, I wanted to make a request about Luffy x female reader. The reader is feminine but clumsy, emotionally-reserved, unexperienced and kind-hearted. Smart and funny, with a soft spot for Luffy. . As for the plot, "she fell first, but he fell harder", slice of life with a little angst would be perfect. I'm desperate for fanfiction about first experience in everything kinda stuff. I'm not a minor, so it would be very good to see some sensual and awkward smut. I would be glad to read anything you'll write about Luffy x female!reader and I hope that you liked my request (^o^)/ sorry for bad english

It's Okay ~ Luffy x F!Reader

First of all, thank you for being my first request, you made me really happy and I'm really sorry for the really long wait, we had a really rough couple of months. Also, it's the first smut I've ever written so read this with patience. English is not my first language either and I'm sorry for any mistakes. Anyways, I had fun writing this, I hope you'll like it, lots of love!

Words: +3k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, op spoilers, ptsd, mentions of character death, comfort sex, smut with plot, oral (f!receiving), virginity loss (both), unprotected sex, cockwarming, fluffy ending kinda?, no use of Y/N

MDNI

Quiet days on The Thousand Sunny were as rare as mythical zoans. Not only because of dangerous encounters but also because of how calm the whole crew was today. Even your walking ray of sunshine captain was not as wild as usual. But you couldn’t really complain as you could focus on your task in silence.

The tailor of the crew, responsible of sewing, stitching and mending every piece of fabric on the ship. And that included the sails. Strong winds the night before managed a large tear and the next island was a couple of days away. So you had a job to do. Standing on a rope ladder, you effortlessly worked through the sails with elegance. Every piece of fabric in your home deserved care, as you’d always say when you mended the torn up clothes of your crew mates.

You were proud you could provide your family with loved and cared clothes and everything else they needed, top priority along with the dream of becoming the best tailor the seas had ever seen. Your mind wandered away to the smile of your captain every time you placed the fixed straw hat you came to love so much on his head, while you automatically repaired the sail. But your gracefulness started and ended at the needle in your hand.

Looking away into the sea for one second resulted in you prickling your finger. The sudden feeling caused you to lose your step and balance and you yelped as you fell from the ladder, expecting a hard fall and a trip to Chopper’s infirmary. But the land never came, arms wrapping around your frame, drawing you to somebody’s embrace. In fear, you wrapped yourself around your savior’s waist like a koala, your flower patterned dress coming up slightly. Your face went to the crook of his neck for one second, immediately recognizing who it was, and you raised your head to look at him in embarrassment.

“Hi there!”

“Luffy, thank you, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright. Was on my way to check if you needed help. Guess I was right.” he said laughing.

You smiled and hugged him tightly as he put you down on the deck. You were embarrassed, part of it because of your own clumsiness, another part because of the way Luffy’s hands lingered on your waist before letting you go.

“Are you almost done? Picked up a new card game from the last island and I want to play with you.”

“Oh, ah, I, I still have some, some work to do...?”

You didn’t. You also didn’t know why you said that. You said a lot of stupid stuff lately. You loved spending time with your captain, especially when you knew there wouldn’t be a crazy fight following you in a few hours. Falling in love with his brown eyes, his goofy and brave personality and his loyalty to his friends was the reason you said yes to joining the Straw Hats after you helped them save Robin in Ennies Lobby.

But ever since you returned to Sabaody, it’s gotten harder to contain the feelings for your first love. The other night while you two were keeping watch and talking about things you loved, an “I love you” escaped your lips without thinking, proceeding to an inept attempt to cover it by saying how you loved he is such a loyal friend. You felt the blush rushing to your cheeks as you looked again on his face and noticed something you were seeing more and more these days. His trademark smile was reduced to a small upward line and in his eyes there was a gleam of sadness. You couldn’t have that.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you around later I guess-”

“On another note, I can always finish it later. Let’s go play, Captain!”

And you grabbed his arm, running like a child playing chase across the deck toward Nami’s tangerine trees, laughing as you tripped on your two left feet, Luffy holding you upwards and laughing in the process, always there to catch you.

~

The ship was in motion, light rain falling from the night sky as Luffy found himself walking aimlessly on the empty deck. His black hair tousled, his straw hat dangling from the string around his neck, his posture slumped, trying to find some sort of relief in the breeze that hit his face. His trembling hands grip the railing, his gaze lost towards the vast ocean, unable to back focus on anything but his most recent nightmare. Memories of Ace's death spreading, like poison in his veins, once again. He tried to steady his breathing but failed as hot tears run down his cheeks, silent sobs leaving his body, trying not to wake up his crew. He hadn’t talked to anyone about Marineford. There was no reason for his friends to see him in that weakened state. He could tell that everyone felt guilty because they weren’t there for him, he didn’t want to feed that ugly feeling inside them.

You felt restless, worry prickling your skin like a hundred needles at once. Sleep wouldn’t do you a favor so you hoped off bed to get some fresh air on the deck and some moments of peace to think. Luffy’s sad eyes lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but think about how much he had changed since you first met. You remembered the scrawny, eager, brave boy he was. Now his hair was longer and spikier, and he looked stronger than ever before, he was almost a man. Despite his carefree looks, a lot had changed about him. Yes, he was still as eager and resilient and determinated as ever, yet more mature, as much as maturity applied to him. And that big scar across his chest was the only testament of the fight he gave alone two years ago, as he hadn't talked to any of you about it. Not that he had to. You all knew you would wholeheartedly give him the support in any form he’d need. You’d do what you knew best. Take care of the people you loved. And from the moment you joined the crew, you knew your heart belonged to the straw hat captain.

You spotted Luffy in the front of the ship. It was unusual for him to be up and alone this late at night. Your eyes filled with concern, you walked closer to him as you noticed the trembling in his form, worry rising in your chest. Your hand caressing his shoulder slightly, you didn’t want to scare him or make him feel worse.

"Luffy?" you asked softly, voice barely audible over the wind.

Luffy wiped his tear streaked face quickly and tried to control his heavy breathing, wanting to be like his usual self, even if he knew it was too late for acting.

“I…”

He took a deep breath trying to hold it all in. He was the one that was supposed to help people through their crying and problems, to protect them. He couldn’t protect his friends in Sabaody, he couldn’t save his brother. He swore he’d never let anything like those things happen again. He didn’t want to be seen as weak. Not again. Not in front of his crew. Not in front of you.

“It’s okay, Luffy.”

His eyes met yours, a warm and safe gaze, always inviting and full of love, ready to be a place of comfort and joy to anyone that needed it. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and back, taking him in a comforting embrace. His arms went immediately around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as silent sobs left him once again. He hugged you tightly, hyperventilating as he let every last feeling of grief and pain out. You felt your eyes well too, the pain your favorite person carried alone enough to make you want to scream.

“It’s okay… you’re okay… it wasn’t your fault…”

“I couldn’t… I thought you… were all dead… and… I was right there… I couldn’t save him… he left… in my arms… it should have been me!”

Your heart ached listening to Luffy's sobs, tears running down your face as well. You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, and looked into his red, puffy eyes.

“Listen to me! Don’t say that again, ever! We all know you’d never let us down. You did everything you could, Luffy, you always do, and it’s enough for us." You said, voice shaking, carrying all the sincerity in the world. "And you always were there for him. You gave everything you had! He loved you so much and you saved him because you showed him how loved and cherished he was! You're still doing everything you can to keep his memory alive. That's what he would want! Don’t do this to yourself, please.”

You wiped the tears off his face and squeezed his cheeks like you usually did when you shared food and laughs together, managing to drag out a small smile from the boy.

“How about we go grab some tea and biscuits from the kitchen before Sanji comes down from his watch and go to my room?” you suggested, knowing Luffy would never say no to food.

“It’s on!”

Stealth wasn’t your strongest suit as you somehow always managed to hit on something. And with Luffy beside you, havoc was almost always certain. Getting out of the kitchen as fast as you could, before Sanji’s yells could reach you, you run into the ship, down to your handicraft’s room. The warmth of the cabin enveloped Luffy, feeling a little more like his usual self now, as he took in the room. That’s were all your great works laid, with needles, threads and sewing machines all over the place. From clothes and blankets to large embroideries hanging from the walls. You laid a soft, fluffy blanket on the ground to sit on. You sipped your scolding tea as Luffy munched on a cookie, taking in your works.

“I don’t know how you can make beautiful things like these.”

“I’ve practiced it a lot. And I love it. I’m glad you like it, Captain.”

You smiled widely, gaining a toothy grin from him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always being here.”

You were thinking your next words for a moment before moving the cups and plate from the blanket, taking his shoulders gently as you both laid on the ground, your eyes looking at each other, taking his hand into yours.

“It's alright to not be fine, you know… I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“It’s… I’m not thinking about it most of the time… I just have nightmares… it’s hard sometimes.”

“And that’s completely logical, Luffy, you’ve been through hell! I collapsed when I heard the news and couldn’t be with you. I would have run to you if I could. I love you so much and I’m sorry I wasn’t there and…”

You were the one tearing up now, cheeks red from embarrassment as the words slipped through your mouth without thinking. You knew Luffy would be shattered when you heard about Ace. The only thing you wanted was to hug him until you pulled all his pieces back together. He met your gaze. Luffy was never interested in romance. He didn’t thought he needed it. Until he met you and for the first time, he wanted someone to join his crew not only because he wanted them as a friend and they’d be a great addition, but because he felt something different, something he couldn’t quite understand. The only thing he knew was that he loved you a little differently than the rest of his friends. It was his turn to brush the tears off your face now and you melted from his touch. You tried to speak but before you could, his hand, warm and slightly trembling, cup your cheek. His lips pressed into yours, just for a moment, before drawing back only inches from your face.

“I think I love you too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, heart pounding against your ribs. Never had you thought you’d hear those words from Luffy. Of course, you knew he loved everyone in the crew, but this felt different. You felt like you would burst into flames as you blushed even more.

“You, you do?!”

“Yeah… you’re sweet and strong… always by my side… you’re very important to me…”

You let out a gasp of surprise as you hugged him tightly and crushed your lips into his clumsily, both of you laughing at your enthusiasm. Small, sweet kisses evolved into longer, more passionately ones and soon you were underneath him, his hands caressing your thigh beneath your dress, your hands slowly pushing his vest off of him.

“Are you okay?”

“I am, you?”

“Me too.”

Soon, your clothes landed somewhere else in the room as you felt him caressing your skin everywhere and you gasped into the kiss, him taking advantage of your parted lips to push his tongue into your mouth, tangling it messily with yours. His lips travelled down your neck and lower, soon to be between your legs. A feeling of self-consciousness crept over you as you closed your legs and he smiled up at you as he caressed your thigh.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can stop if you want.”

“No, I want this, I’ve just… never do this before…”

“Neither do I. We’ll find it together. But I want you to be comfortable. You can stop me if you don’t feel okay.”

You smile down at him and relaxed a bit, allowing him to spread your legs and start kissing the inside of your thighs. It felt so good to share another experience with him, and his touch was gentler than you thought it would be. He positioned your thighs on his shoulders and before you could react, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking a stripe before latching onto your clit. Your head fell back immediately as a choked out moan slipped through your mouth, one hand flying to his hair, pulling on his locks gently as the other grasped the blanket beneath you. His eyes were on you, his look was magnetic and focused on the task of making you feel good. A finger circling your tight hole, it pushed inside you slowly as he sucked on your clit, making you whimper from the pleasurable feeling. The stretching inside you new and welcomed, a combination of his mouth and a second finger breaching in has your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. He curled his fingers upwards, hitting repeatedly a spot you had never reached before on your own and it pushed you over the edge unexpectedly. He smiles against you as small moans left your mouth, your whole body shaking, your head spinning.

Coming down from your high, he crawls back on top of you and kisses you passionately, your tongues intertwining. You can taste yourself through the kiss, and it makes you long for more. He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you.

“How was that?”

“Luffy, it was… amazing. How did you know-”

“Didn’t. Just did what felt right. Are you okay to continue?”

You nodded eagerly and he grinned at you, his lips back on yours again. Your hand sneaks between your bodies to grab his dick, gently pumping him up and down, bringing him close to your folds. He moans into the kiss and swats your hand away, gliding himself between your now soaked pussy, his tip touching your clit every time, sending small jolts of pleasure down your spine. He breaks the kiss, his face only inches apart from yours, staring into your eyes.

“You’re sure?”, he whispered.

“Yes captain, please…”

A shiver run through his body as he hears your plead, and he moves his tip against your entrance, pushing in. A small gasp escape you and a sharp hiss leaves his mouth as he slowly slides into you, his movements awkward but gentle, the feeling of your warmth around him making him slightly tremble as he bottoms out. It felt slightly uncomfortable for you at first but the pain you expected to feel was nowhere to be found. His lips were on your neck, nibbling and sucking gently while his arms roamed your body, trying to make you relax as he stayed still, waiting for you to adjust to him. A few moments passed and your hand cupped his chin, bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

“Feels better now?”

“Yes, Luffy… please, move…”

He smiled down at you and placed another soft kiss on your lips as he began to move, taking it slow and tender, setting a rhythm that made you gasp, the pleasure spreading over you. One of his hands on yours, intertwining your fingers as the other grabbed your thigh to keep you against him, his forehead on yours, eyes closed as you both relished the feeling of your bodies pressed together. His speed picked up slightly as he finds a steady rhythm and you moan his name, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. He smiles widely and kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, your fingers running through his hair, gently tugging at his dark locks.

One hand gripped your thigh rougher now, pushing it upwards, the shift in position allowing him to go deeper, the other sneaking between your bodies to rub at your clit. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, trying to choke down your moans, the knot in your stomach tightening as his thrusts grow faster and sloppier, you feel that he’s close too.

Your lips connect again in a messy kiss and your back arches as you come undone, crying out through the kiss, your nails dragging down his back. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, his hands grab your hips to drag you to him as he fucks you through your high, his hips stuttering, feeling your walls squeezing him tight, pushing him over the edge with you.

You stay like this for a while, hands wrapped around each other, his face buried in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment. He places a tender kiss on your cheek and turns to face you, his head on your shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… wonderful…” you say with a sigh as you smile up at him. His hand caressing you cheek, he placed another sweet kiss before stretching his hand to grab another blanket nearby, covering the both of you. He then lies flat on top of you again, his arms wrapping around you, and closes his eyes, still inside you.

“Luff, we…”

“Can’t move, I feel snuggly right now.”

You laugh softly as you hug him back, feeling his breath slow down as he slowly falls asleep, your eyelids getting heavy as well, a content smile playing on your lips.

“Goodnight dummy…”

[vermilionsun]

TELL ME WHY

I'VE PLAYED THIS DEMO OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN

BUT NEVER HAD I EVER PICKED THE "HESITATE" OPTION FOR LEANDER

I'M A DUMB BITCH HOLY SHIT

BUT I CAME INTO A NEWFOUND REALISATION:

THE MC'S CURSE PROTECTS THEM, IN SOME WAY

(unless I'm the last person in the fandom to notice that, good job me)

If you pick the "Touch him" option, he only says "I told you there's nothing to worry about"

BUT HERE, he comments "That's one hell of a curse :D" meaning he definately feels it and it possibly affects him

Yes, the MC surely has ptsd of some sort and could assume Leander's hand was going for their neck like mrChocky but i highly doubt he was initially going for their shoulder

I believe the MC's curse doesn't affect whoever they touch, but whoever touches them

It's quite a bit of a strech, yes, but still a possibility:

Leander doesn't do the dramatics above if the MC touches him first

MrChocky was the one who touched the MC first and got he affected

And thus I bring in another question: What about Oracle!MC?

"The priests claimed your touch bestowed enlightenment, but a visiting mage revealed your curse for what it is."

It wouldn't be illogical if the priests' words were true; if the MC touches someone, they are "bestowed enlightenment", but if the MC gets touched forcibly/accidentally, the one who touches them goes mad

But that would also mean we'd have the choice of giving Leander more power if we choose to touch him

Also, somehow all the backstory mages seem to have a good understanding of the MC's curse [have seen it/it has been recorded before], or are at least able to recoognise it in order to reveal it to them. Plus, the Alchemist!MC's mage [who was "exiled from the Senobium"] planned on cultivating them as a test subject, meaning not much must be known about said curse.

"It's unlike anything I've ever dealt with," says Leander, a mage who has never stepped foot in the Senobium.

"We can find answers together," Leander promises later on.

Then he stops

He waits for them to touch him

Then he freely unwinds their bandages, allows them to touch his hands, his cheeks, he moves his hands over theirs because they've already accepted him touching them

He could have figured how the MC's curse works, or he could have dark-magic-ed his way into the Senobium files before the MC returned to the Wick again.

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: gojo satoru – long fics (pt.1)

Part 2

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ the way you love me by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 29/? chapters] [smut!] [fwb!gojo] #pep's first fic she was OBSESSED with #real good good smut WITH FEELINGS

“We can stop anytime. If either one of us feels like... this ...might be too much. We stop, no questions .” “We can stop anytime,” Gojo repeated “... and nothing changes between us .” You swallowed hard at his last statement. You may not be able to read his eyes but you could hear it in his voice that he needed reassurance. “No matter what happens, we’ll still be friends...” you replied softly, “now kiss me before I change my mind.”

☆ you and me by tomodachi [AO3: ] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [tear jerker] [eventual smut!] #pep cried #gojo just kinda loves you real hard

“Prisoners say the most comical things when their judgment comes,” you tilt your head, lifting a finger before him, “Who are you?"

--- History is written by the winners, Satoru knew this well. It was only when he lost and got sealed inside the Prison Realm he learned how to be weak and find out a long buried truth.

☆ ito by @peekamatcha [AO3] [status: ongoing ◦ 48/? chapters] [super slow burn] [shinto elements] #pep DIES with every update #the TWIST in that one chapter omg

You, a former sorcerer now working as a university lecturer, were hoping to maintain your distance with the sorcerer world for an eternity to come. However, with the reappearance of an upperclassmen from a decade ago, you are forced to go on a journey which you would rather sit out of. But somebody must save humanity from the impending apocalypse and apparently the job falls on the shoulders of you two.

It would have been alright had he not been everything you didn’t want to be reminded of. And the sacrifices to be made may be more than what had been bargained for. ☆moonlight by @septembersummer [AO3/tumblr:] [status: completed ◦ 10/10 chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #pep SCREAMED

Gojo Satoru is dying. And no, it's not his fault this time.

The curse which is withering Satoru into an early grave is actually the product of his great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, who had a couple of sons that refused to procreate. And what does a proud, powerful man do when his sons refuse to fuck, and there won't be another heir to the clan?

He curses his own bloodline, of course.

It's only natural that he forces them through some twisted form of sorcery to become uncontrollably, violently attracted to the person they're most genetically compatible with.

It's even better that the curse creates a permanent, unbreakable bond between the two unwilling lovers. That's right, it usually takes more than one fuck to make a baby-- so, why not force them to have twelve?

Satoru wished his ancestor would be resurrected from the grave, just so that he could kill him again. That is, before Satoru inevitably dies.

He's had a good run, he thinks. Now, all he has to do is make sure you don't find out that you can fuck him back to life and try to very stupidly save him from himself.

(here's a spoiler: you do).

☆ a typical family by @literalia [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed? ◦ 32/32 chapters] [non liner narrative] [dad!gojo] #pep absolutely MELTED #slice of life #pep's gojo comfort fic

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

or

after a six month absence, satoru shows up at your door two little kids following behind. chaos ensues.

☆ and if i cant see by hollowdonut [AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 26/? chapters] [slowburn] [eventual smut!] [tw: ptsd] #pep loves the reader's dynamics with gojo!

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but Gojo’s eyes are almost always hidden behind a blindfold. Even when they aren’t, you can never tell what he’s thinking.

You wonder if you should’ve taken that teaching job in Kyoto instead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ all hail the empress! by @chuluoyi [tumblr/AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 1/? chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #but THE END THO? OMGGG you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

[simplylupin]

Vertigo and Eddie Diaz

because the connection has been made between eddie's current arc and hitchcock's vertigo, i thought i'd give my two cents on the topic as a mediocre film student whose had to study vertigo for two years of her life

so here's a basic (very over-simplified) summary of vertigo for those who are unfamiliar

The protagonist, Scottie, is a policeman who took a break/was discharged/retired because he couldn't save a fellow police officer from falling off a building to his death

Because of this he suffers from vertigo and/or fear of heights

He's hired by his old friend Gavin to follow Gavin's wife, Madeline, for fear that she's been possessed by someone called Carlotta Valdez

He does so, and slowly falls in love with Madeline - and her him

We also learn that Scottie's best friend Midge is in love with him, but he's too obsessed with Madeline to notice Midge

Him and Madeline go to a church bell tower where Madeline seemingly offs herself by jumping off

Some time later, Scottie goes to Madeline's old hotel room, and finds a woman called Judy who looks exactly like Madeline

She agrees to go on a date with him

We, the audience, find out that Judy actually is Madeline (and vise versa). She was hired by Gavin to pretend to be Madeline.

Scottie grows more and more obsessed, forcing Judy to change her appearance to look like Madeline

He makes the connection that Madeline and Judy are the same person, and drives her to the bell tower

He forces her up the tower, over coming his fear of heights

Once at the top, they have a confrontation

A nun appears, scaring Judy and she once more falls to her death (really this time)

So, from what I've gathered, the loose connection between characters is:

Scottie = Eddie

Madeline = Shannon

Midge = Buck

Judy = Kim

The Nun = Marisol

Scottie's unable to save his fellow police officer. Eddie was unable to 'save' the people he pulled out the helicopter: "I pulled them out. But I didn't save them." Because of this he suffers from immense guilt and PTSD (as seen in his season 5 arc). He's unable to move on and this hinders him to a certain extent - just like Scottie.

After Shannon's death, he's thrown through the loop again, with the added bonus of him not having been able to save her too. Scottie's job was to save Madeline, and he failed at that, resulting in her 'death'.

Eddie is constantly trying to find a woman to fill that role of Shannon in his and Christopher's life; we see this with both Ana and now Marisol. He's looking for her in them. Scottie does the same - he visits the places he went with Madeline, he goes to her old room.

Eddie finds Kim, Scottie finds Judy.

For a little while, Judy helps Scottie get over and get closure on Madeline. She fills that empty space and allows him to move on. This is what I think Kim is going to do for Eddie.

She looks so much like Shannon but she simply isn't her. We know in later episodes that Buck is going to meet her and proclaim that she's "nothing like Shannon." There's a clear distinction there - Eddie is only seeing Shannon in her because he wants to, because he's still holding onto that idea. I think Kim is going to be the closing point of this ongoing search for Shannon's 'replacement'; someone who looks exactly like Shannon should be perfect, right? But when she too doesn't 'fill' that role that surely must spark some sort of realisation in Eddie, because if not her then who.

For Scottie, he feels betrayed by Judy. He brings her to the last place he saw Madeline, and ultimately, indirectly, causes her death. Obviously I don't believe Kim is actually going to die, but more the idea of her. She's the final chapter of him pursuing Shannon's ghost.

Midge is Scottie's best friend. They met in college and were engaged for a few weeks before breaking up. They spend a lot of time together, staying at each other's houses and going out. She helps Scottie through his vertigo and acrophobia, and tries to 'bring him back' in his grief. At one point, Midge paints her face onto a painting of Carlotta Valdez, showing that she's there and ready for Scottie's love, if he's willing to give it to her.

I believe, in this scenario, Buck takes on her role (for seemingly obvious reasons). Him and Eddie are best friends, they do so much together, he helps Eddie when he's struggling etc etc. Midge is the idea of the 'other woman', someone who is right in front of Scottie's eyes, someone whose always been there for him. However, Scottie is too obsessed and fixated on Madeline that he can't see this and continually brushes it away. You see where I'm going here...

Although Buck potentially doesn't even realize it himself, he has taken on Shannon's role in the Diaz family for years. Eddie already has the 'replacement' for Shannon that he's so desperately been searching for right in front of his eyes.

In Vertigo, Judy and Madeline are the same person, whereas Shannon and Kim are obviously not. However, the comparison still stands.

Scottie meets Judy and immedietely latches onto her because she looks so much like Madeline (duh) and he is so desperate for anything that'll keep Madeline's memory with him. He makes her undergo a series of phsyical changes (dyeing her hair, changing her wardrobe, her style etc etc) so that she appears more like Madeline - so he can get that closure and pretend.

Eddie clearly isn't going to do this to Kim. However, whatever way you spin it, he is projecting Shannon onto her. He saw her, and thought of Shannon, he pursued her because of that, he's doing all this because of Shannon. He is chasing that closure and that moment were he can be like 'Ah. I've finally found someone who can be Shannon for me and Chris.'

I doubt Kim is going to be around particularly long. As much as it sounds diminishing, she really is just a tool for Eddie to have this realization that nobody can replace Shannon, and that that's okay. He doesn't need to find Shannon 2.0.

Now, in Vertigo, when Scottie and Judy are arguing on the bell tower, a nun appears from the shadows and startles them - causing Judy to fall to her death. It's a very abrupt and out of nowhere.

The character of the nun, I think could represent either one of two things. Marisol, as we know, used to be a nun (i'm still not over this btw). That's a pretty straight-forward, clear cut comparison. The nun causes Judy to die, Marisol causes 'Shannon', and the idea of Shannon, to 'die'. This interpretation leans more heavily on Marisol and Eddie staying together, however, so I'm not sure.

The nun could also just represent religion as a whole, and Eddie's Catholic guilt particularly. Eddie tells Bobby that he only really married Shannon because he felt like he had to, he felt pressured into it because of his religious guilt. Despite this, "There was still a part of me that loved being married to her."

There's no doubt in my mind that Eddie loved Shannon. He did, they loved each other, and he still does love her - he always will. I do think that the choice of focussing on his marriage to her and how he "loved being married to her" is interesting though, he doesn't try to clarify that he was in love with her. This could just be because it's a given orrr

Whatever, not really the point.

The point is, the fact he's now "awakened" his Catholic guilt by finding out Marisol was a nun, must mean something for his upcoming arc. In Vertigo, the nun kills Judy. Here, his religious guilt 'kills' the idea of Shannon??

I'll definitely have more ideas about this later but this was my word vomit for now! Let me know what you think please.

(Also something I find funny is that the actress of Madeline/Judy is called Kim!)

[violenteconomics]

y’know what, fuck it— a TWST event inspired by “enchanted (2007)” where our first-year bois (and their one enby) take a night out on the town, and after an encounter with a cursed artifact they find in a pawn shop, they lose all their memories and get them replaced with new ones. 

what are these new memories, you ask? they’re all roommates living in a crappy apartment on sage’s island, they all always wanted to go to nrc but they don’t have any magic powers, and ortho is not a robot who is their friend, but their extremely articulate computer ripped straight from the early 2000s, even though they still talk to him like he’s sentient and he is very obviously sentient.

(“i just don’t get people, y’know? i don’t know how to talk to them.”

*windows dial-up sounds*

“see? at least you get me.”)

their personalities are still intact, though, but some of the more obvious parts have been… altered. aka, sebek doesn’t talk about malleus or fae every couple of minutes, but he’s still our loud, proud crocoboy.

also, they all have part-time jobs. take that how you will.

the upperclassmen are in crisis mode, obviously, and the scarabiduo haven’t stopped having collective ptsd for three days straight, because SEVEN FRESHMEN disappeared in the middle of the night, and well, they’re just going down the logical train of thought here—

it all culminates while yuu is out buying groceries with what little they earn at their shitty supermarket job (🙏😭 for employee discountsssss) and they run into professor trein and professor crewel who are putting up “wanted — dead or alive” posters while buying cat/dog food.

what ensues is a chase scene involving two grown, adult men chasing down this poor enby around the store. 

“I JUST WANTED TO BUY SOME SHOES FOR MY COMPUTER!”

“WHY THE FUCK DOES YOUR COMPUTER NEED FUCKING SHOES?!?!?!”

[gemmahale]

Okay, I'm home, I've been on the road for the better part of 4 hours today due to a miscommunication and a cancelled event, and I've had this rant brewing.

Being Anti-Military and Pro-Veteran are stances that can mutually exist.

Games like CoD and whatever other FPS/Military Simulation game is out there is propaganda. It’s meant to make you want to sign up or support military action.

The military (I’m speaking specifically to the US, as I am most familiar with them by proxy) uses some incredibly underhanded techniques to ensure they have the warm bodies soldiers they need to keep the system working as intended.

This includes but is not limited to: promises of paying for education, aspirations of “seeing the world”, provision of job security, access to healthcare, a stable job and housing, etc. They use things like “patriotism” and “glory” and “security” to lure people in.

And then, when that person is wholly and completely reliant on the military - for a paycheck, housing, healthcare, you name it - they spit them back out into the world with a "thanks a lot and good fucking luck."

Into a world where:

Financial support for care has been axed and axed and axed again under "budget cuts"

Care is secured with red tape so thick you can tightrope walk across it

Care is denied for things the military caused (by saying "it didn't happen while you were serving".) *Yes, that's a direct quote from a doctor to one of Kallen's peers. When assessing a life-altering injury sustained while they were in country overseas, it was deemed as "non-service related injury”.

In comparison to civilians:

Veterans are ~40% more likely to be homeless.

Veterans are ~80% more likely to suffer from untreated mental and physical health issues - PTSD, hearing loss, nerve damage, etc.

Veterans are ~60% more likely to turn to addictive substances - alcohol, drugs, etc.

Veterans are ~70% more likely to commit suicide.

This isn’t limited to combat vets. Logistics specialists, administrative specialists, IT specialists all get screwed when they leave.

Ask just about any veteran that has served, they are incredibly likely to be staunchly anti-military.

The military causes a tremendous amount of damage to every person involved, even if they aren't aware of it at the time.

It’s a cult, it’s an abusive relationship, it’s predatory. Treat it as such.

Support veterans, advocate for their care. They made choices you may not agree with, but they made them because of what they thought the military was offering to them. Many thought they were doing the right thing for their country - that was the lie they were fed from 9/11 on (in the US). Then they were chewed up, spit out, and left for dead by the same people that made all those promises to them.

Here are some US-based, apolitical Veteran Support groups (many have International chapters/members):

22 Until None - 501-C3 that provides support to veterans by veterans. There are local chapters on Facebook that are all active and are listed on the website

Disabled American Veteran - Veteran help association; involved in legislation and local assistance, connections to VA advocates to help navigate the VA

Wounded Warrior Project - 501-C3 charity supporting disabled veterans.

Note: I am absolutely not doing the "not all servicemembers" thing here. I'm saying "veterans are living with their choices, and still deserve access to care."

[myfictionaldreams]

Light in the Darkness // Feyre/Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn't just Rhys who had been caught in Amrantha's damnatation. For nearly 50 years, you'd suffered with him, in her bed. After years of enduring agony, it becomes almost impossible to resist seeking refuge in the platonic refuge of your High Lord and High Lady. However, after one night of drunken indulgence, you're left wondering if everything you've built to protect yourself is now shattered.

Requested by: ~ ☺ -- thank you so so much for all your support and the request! I absolutely loved writing more acotar/sjm!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, past rape/non-con elements, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, flirting, kissing, drinking, threesome (f/f/m), sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, anxiety, happy ending

Words: 9.4k (lol oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Some aspects of life can be predicted. Happiness, sadness, heartbreak, grief. Death. Every ounce of blessings that had graced your life had repercussions and hardships, something that was always centred around the balance of the world. With good comes the bad.

Years upon years had been filled with joy, laughter, and safety with your friends and family. Naturally, being drawn into the inner circle of the Night Court would bring its hardships, but it would be nothing that your friends or your family could get you out of. From outsiders, you were ranked low within the group, not even having a title to the job you provided; however, you often liked to refer to yourself as Rhysand's conscience.

Where Amren would help make significant decisions for the Night Court as the second in command, you'd be there to offer further guidance daily. Every meeting, every decision, every single day, you would be at Rhysand's side, making sure he didn't make brash decisions and, furthermore, protecting his sanity when, on some days, the weight of the world pressed down on him.

Not only did you save Rhys with your words, but as a high fae, you were blessed by the Cauldron with healing and body manipulation powers. The healing was self-explanatory as to why it could help; there were times you'd been able to bring a soul back, even from the point of death. However, such as life, with life comes pain. A power you used so infrequently due to the distress that you'd often forgotten that it was something you could do. Only on a handful of occasions have you needed to use it against an enemy they begged for death in seconds. It was a strain on your mental health to use this, and with Rhys having his own powers, along with his shadowsinger, there weren't many reasons for you to even be needed for this.

Rhysand would never expect or ask you to use this power, increasing your adoration for him tenfold. To say the two of you were close was a complete understatement. When you both live and breathe the same day-to-day life, the form of friendship is bound to shift into something more. Rhys made you feel safe; the scent of night and Jasmine that accompanied him always wrapped around you like a warm hug.

There was no one you trusted more than him, and when the two of you stumbled into bed years ago, it only helped you discover more of yourself, especially with your powers. Pleasure. You could bestow pleasure onto a person with a single thought. Have their knees wobbling, eyes glazing over and back arching as they orgasmed in a single second. It made your nights with the High Lord all the more entertaining.

Even with the closeness the two of you shared, there was still the label of friendship. You loved Rhysand, and he loved you, but the two of you were still keeping back, aware of the possibilities of mates, and until any bond arrived, the friendship would continue with the thrill of pleasure.

As your role to be by his side continued, this was the unfortunate or devastating mistake of how you were in attendance at the ball that Amarantha had created. All it took was a gathering of high lords and a drink of the magically spiked wine, and the world of Pyrthian would be forever changed. The magic within the High Lords was leashed, and no one was safe from the wrath of the Red-Haired Devil.

You could have driven yourself mad with hindsight, regretting not listening to your gut feeling of not trusting Amarantha. Only the knowledge of being able to keep the rest of your family and friends safe in Velaris was the only blessing, even if it meant a life of agony for 50 years.

Amarantha, in all of her cruel ways, personally picked the High Lord of the Night Court with her need for revenge for Rhys' father, killing her closest ally - Tamlin's father. Rhys had always had a formal villainous reputation amongst the other courts, but now, this is further shadowed by the different courts as Amarantha uses him. To hurt others, break them in a split second, and furthermore, keep him leashed to her bed. He was simply her whore and nothing more to the others throughout Pyrthian. This mighty High  Lord, probably the most powerful High Lord there had ever been, had been degraded and dehumanised to nothing.

Nevertheless, where Rhysand stayed, you were by his side.

Rhysand had protected Velaris, the rest of his friends and family that remained at home, keeping them locked away from Amarantha using his Daemati skills, but could not save them.

The first few weeks of the new reign of the Red Devil, you'd been chained in a cell with only darkness and the drip of the waters running down the walls to keep you company. You'd even convinced yourself she had forgotten about you, willing to let you rot away. However, you were forced to kneel before her, and Rhys stood by her side.

There was never a second where you'd blame Rhys for what happened. In fact, over the 50 years, he had saved you in more ways than you could ever repay him for.

You were forced by Amarantha to admit why Rhys kept you so close by. The healing, the pain, the pleasure. Everything spilt from your lips with a single snap of her fingers. Rhysand was her whore, and you were downgraded to being her Harlot, except there was no exchange between sex and money, only sex and not being killed.

Rhy was forced to control minds and occasionally cause pain before death. You were just there to deal unimaginable pain until death, and then both crawl into Amaranthas bed and pleasure her until she promptly sleeps, wakes and starts the process again.

As the years trailed by, the only sight that would keep you going was the flickerings of stars that would light in the depths of Rhysand's eyes when the two of you were briefly alone for mere seconds.

Amarantha kept a tight leash on the two of you. When in her bedroom, you and Rhys were never allowed to touch, and most frequently, you were forced to kneel next to the bed and watch or tie to the bed with the Red Devil straddling your waist with Rhys pleasuring her from behind. You would watch and watch, and then her fingers would snap, and you were forced to make her orgasm, over and over, even with Rhys having spent hours pleasuring her.

These moments were where Rhys would provide support. Even though your eyes had to remain on Amarantha, Rhys would slip through your mental shiels and make you feel numb whilst remaining mentally close so that you didn't feel alone. Often, you would wake without any recollection of the previous night's antics, all thanks to your High Lord, and you wished and begged to the Cauldron that one day you could repay him for keeping you from slipping into the depressive pit that you would never be able to return from.

Then, at the risk of his life, Rhys admitted to having dreams. 47 years, the two of you had been trapped, and he'd been lost to the Red Devil, but hope came to him with glimpses of a woman's life. Hope. It had to be hope, and even though you could only see foggy images that Rhys would share of this person, the two of you would hope that this was a sign of someone who was bringing salvation.

Nearly 50 years had passed, and Rhysand finally admitted to meeting her whilst visiting the Spring Court, falling for the callings coming his way to draw him closer to her. Nothing came as easy as an overnight saviour, but at least you had a name. Feyre. Sweet Feyre. A human girl who had nearly stolen Tamlin's heart arrived under the mountain to declare her love for him and stand up to the Red Devil.

So young and yet defiant. Despite the pain, the torture and helplessness, she never back down. Something in your heart called to her. Maybe it wasn't right to put so much pressure on her to save Pyrthian, but even if it meant you had to take your last breath, you would try anything within your power to save this woman.

Superficial wounds you couldn't heal, but the pain you were quick to vanish as she was kept in her cell between the trials. Moreover, you were more than aware that Rhys was doing just as much to keep her from losing her sanity by having her close to his side, forgetting the world as she drank faerie wine.

The fateful day came, and so many events spiralled into utter chaos. After the final trial, Feyre figures out the riddle but still dies in Amaranthas's hand. Tamlin finally finds courage and slaughters the Red Devil and the High Lords, gathering to bring Feyre back to life as High Fae.

Freedom was unforgettable, and leaving the depths of Under the Mountain was something you'd only dreamed of, but there was now the weight of Rhys' mating bond snapping into place that had the next chapter in your lives beginning.

There was no time to be happy for your High Lord as the King of Hybern began his war whilst simultaneously trying to prove to Feyre that she was safe within the Night Court and away from Tamlin and that you were thanking Rhys and Mor for stealing her from the dreadful place.

Years continue to fly by. Wars, fights, numerous deaths, including Rhys for a moment and finally, FINALLY, the Night court could be at rest and for once indeed be happy with their High Lord and Lady protecting the lands with the inner circle close by.

Having been in turmoil for so long, adjusting to returning home, being surrounded by friends, and trying to remember what it was like to be genuinely safe was more difficult than anticipated.

It was almost like having to try and learn how to live again. What hobbies would truly distract you? What job could you do from day to day as it wasn't necessarily for you to be on Rhysands' side now with Feyre there to aid in the decision-making? There was also the destruction of having survivor guilt and horrific nightmares that had you afraid of the sun slipping behind the mountains every day and night, replacing the light. No amount of talking, counselling or breathing exercises could remind you that Amarantha was truly dead and that everything was fine.

This was how you began to depend on your High Lord and Lady.  Both of whom were closer to you than it seemed to be anyone else. Most days would be spent around either of them, whether to help with court business or simply sitting next to them as they continued their lives.

You had realised long ago that you were mostly in love with Rhys and Feyre and depended on them more than others. They never made you feel guilty for this. Neither seemed to mind and often would seek you out if you were starting to feel guilty and keep them safe; they needed comfort and support just as much as you did.

The damage and trauma from Under the Mountain also fleeted from just your mind. You couldn't train with any of the others; even the slightest touch against your skin would trigger red nightmares. You were unsure if it was the saviour complex you'd built around Feyre or Rhys, but you'd only allow them through your hard outer shell.

"Come back to me. Come back to Velaris. You're safe; I'm here; take a deep breath with me" Feyre's soothing voice drifted through your tense consciousness as she blew out a long breath so you could hear the steadiness of her slow breaths. The sweetness of her scent, lilac and pear, then licked through the wind across the skin of your cheek as she knelt in front of you, grasping your hand firmly and helping to ground you.

Your eyelids fluttered first, testing the movements as your mind and body began to return from the horrors within. The rich blueness of Feyre's concerned eyes is what you forced on first, then the rise and fall of her chest as you attempted to copy the movements. It was the first draw of breath that you realised just how long you'd been holding your breath as your lungs burned and your head spun.

The air of Velaris tasted sweet, or maybe it was the lingering taste of Feyre in the air as the ache in the centre of your chest eased and you became more present. The trembling throughout your body continued, no matter how many times Fey's thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

"You're always safe here, with me. It's just us together. Look outside; the sun is still shining, and there's no darkness here". Feyre continued to gently soothe you with her elegant voice.

You'd always found it so ironic that a place called the Night Court, the power to bring forth shadows and darkness from its High Lady and Lord, was actually the brightest and most beautiful home. Free. Unlike how it was Under the Mountain.

Tension struck your spine as your thoughts drifted back to the nightmarish place. Feyre's grip on your hand loosened as she shifted closer to cup both hands around your face, forcing your eyes on her again.

"Don't go back there, stay with me. Talk to me, I want to hear your pretty voice, Honey". It was both the use of her nickname for you and the warmth of her fingers on your face that brought you back from the dizzying nightmares.

Opening your mouth to follow your instructions, you were unsure what to say at first, worried that all that would dribble out would be frightened whimpers, but then a little fleck of something at the corner of Feyre's eyelid caught your eye as your fingers hovered above the area.

"You have a freckle right here that I've never noticed before", you say in a whisper before clearing your voice and smiling at your High Lady.

Feyre matches your grin, showing her teeth whilst doing so and tilting her face so that you're not cupping her face just as she was yours. "Do I? I've never noticed before. Guess I'll have to add it to my portraits".

Your index finger stroked over the freckle as your thoughts spoke before you could probably think as you admitted, "It's beautiful". Usually, only her mate caused the pinkness to blush across her cheeks as she tried to duck and hide her face, the golden hair half drawn into a ponytail now curtaining her away.

Instinctively, you brushed the offending pieces behind her pointed ears, giving you a clearer view of the beauty of Feyre Archeron-Moonbeam. As her sky-stained eyes flicked back up to yours, she coyly softened her smile. And you're a big old flirt; she uses her daemati skills as her lips remain still so that only you can hear.

Only for you, my High Lady, you respond similarly. However, the flirtatious talk was then interrupted by a third, more silky, deep voice joined as the scent of Jasmine and the crispness of night wrapped around you in a warm hug.

I object. I, too, think you're a big old flirt to me, too. It could be my handsome good looks and effortless charm. The intense eye contact with Feyre snapped as you both turned toward the doorway where Rhys now casually leaned against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and not a single hair out of place. The hypnotic violet eyes wandered over Feyre's form first before doing the same with you before the tension eased in his shoulders.

Scoffing as you and Feyre stood, releasing each other's faces and turning towards him entirely, you spoke the following words aloud. "Excuse me, Almighty High Lord. I think you'll find that you're older than me and a much bigger flirt".

Feyre laughs as she naturally falls into his side, their arms wrapping around each other's waists and his lips dipping to kiss her tenderly across the forehead before focusing his attention on you with a wicked grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Love. I only flirt with my darling Feyre". His mate gently slaps a hand against his chest. As you all know, that was one of the biggest lies to slip from his lips. Rhys simply grabs her tattoo-covered hand and kisses the knuckles before venturing further into the room, only stopping when toe-to-toe with you.

Your neck ached as you stared up at him, admiring the twinkle of stars in his eyes as he asked, Do you want to talk about it?

You knew he was referring to your momentary lapse in consciousness moments ago. Losing the courage to maintain eye contact, you look across Velaris, noticing how the sun reflected and sparkled against the water flowing in the Sidra.

Suddenly having no energy, your shoulder shrugs nonchalantly, even though you knew the man before you could read you better than any other. "Not really".

Warm, calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face back towards Rhys as you find that Feyre is now by your side, her fingers interlocking with yours, both touching you, the only two to have done so since being Under the Mountain, even if they were innocent touches.

"You can always come to us, day or night. You know that, right? Just call out for us, and we will come", Rhys reassures carefully, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

Glancing between the mated pair, you try to ignore the burning behind your eyes from the threatening tears as you squeeze the hand holding yours and smile up at Rhys. "What would I ever do without my favourite High Lady and Lord".

Rhys grins down at you, keeping his hold on your chin as he leans down to kiss your cheek, remaining there for a second longer than socially acceptable as you suck in a quick breath as Feyre copies the kiss on the opposite cheek. The two of them move away at the same time as you struggle to control your pounding heart and ignore the desperate throb that warmed your core from being between them both.

It was always like this with the three of you. The longing touches by both of them. The ones that would fuel the dreams would leave you feeling regret for thinking of your friends in such a way, even if it distracted you from your dark thoughts. 

To everyone else, it seemed that you were all close. Still, when the three of you were alone, something constantly shifted, and as much as you tried to remember they were mates and nothing further would ever happen, the lasting effects of the increased pulse and arousal remained. Even though you would never act on these feelings, they made you feel alive and safe.

You noticed it then, the shadows that creep into their eyes as their nostrils flare, smelling your dampening arousal. Like always, you take a step back and try to regain control over your actions, masking your emotions with humour.

"You two are naughty. Do you often kiss your friends like that".

Feyre's giggle only adds to your body's reaction as she links her arm through yours and shrugs her shoulder, "I don't know what you're referring to. We were just being supportive", her tone was laced with sarcasm.

Rolling your eyes, your arm taps the arm holding yours, "Of course you were". Leaning into her side, the two of you glance up at Rhysand, who is silently watching the interactions. Eventually, his eyes flicked to Feyres, who tilted her head with a knowing smile. Looking between the two, you sigh dramatically, "I hate when you both talk like that. It's like you're showing off that you can speak mind to mind. Some would call it rude to talk like that without including your company".

Rhys finally smirks as you notice the sweet and seedy tang that now invaded your scents, mixing with the smell of your arousal quickly; you take a step back from them, assuming they're both flirting mind to mind as you can now smell how horny they both were.

"Alright, well, now I know what you're both thinking. I'm going to take that as my opportunity to leave, " you explain whilst walking towards the exit like you usually did when the mated pair became obsessed with the other in similar situations. However, a shadow wraps around your wrist and halts your movements, so you must turn back and watch as Rhys' arm secures Feyre's shoulder.

"How do you know what we are thinking about?" Rhys asks casually.

Once more, you roll your eyes in exasperation, "because I can smell it, and you are both anything but subtle".

"Hmm", he contemplates for a second. "And what exactly do you think we're dreaming about?"

Your tongue suddenly lay heavy in your mouth as you look confused between them both, noting that Feyre's cheeks are once more flushed with embarrassment, or was it arousal?

"Is this a fun game for you both? I'm not sure I'm interested in guessing what you two do behind closed doors". A lie, but they don't need to know this as those thoughts had been fueling your quiet nights between your sheets.

The High Lord and Lady's eyes both lower to watch as your thighs squeeze together to ease the worsening ache there, not realising how noticeable your movements had been as you cough to recapture their attention back to your face.

"Maybe I should have phrased my question differently", Rhys begins to say as he licks his lips. "Who exactly do you think we are dreaming about?"

Your frown deepens with the confusion that only seems to worsen with each word Rhys says. Feyre takes control of the conversation as she steps forward and out of Rhys' hold until she is in front of you, looking like the beautiful High Lady that she is. Her shoulders rolled back, her head held high, and the confidence only added to the pulsing and fire between your legs.

Carefully, you watch every single flicker of emotion and movement from Feyre. From the way her lips part to take in a deep breath, the subtle hardening of her nipples beneath the thin blue shirt she wore, to the way her pupils expand to match the sweet scent in the air. "I, for one, was not and am not thinking of Rhysand", she speaks in a lower undertone than usual, not flinching from your unending stare.

It was your turn to open your mouth, licking the dryness while attempting to think of some kind of response, but it seemed that your mind was void of all conventional thoughts. So much so that the arrival of Morrigan as she winnowed into the room had the three of you flinching and jumping to face the new arrival.

The tall blonde's nose wrinkled as she glanced between her cousin and his mate, "By the Cauldron, will you two leave the poor girl alone with your nasty thoughts? It smells like a Pleasure house in here", Mor claims as she flicks her luscious hair over her shoulder.

You take a step back, thankful that Mor only thought the thick smell was from Feyre and Rhys and not you as well.

"Morrigan, a pleasure as always, dear cousin", Rhys drawls as he casually picks off some invisible lint from his shoulder. This sight has you smiling, knowing he was covering his discomfort with the movement.

Mor flicked her gaze over Rhys before dressing each of you with enthusiasm, clasping her hands together, "So tonight I've convinced the others to come to Ritas, and I need you three to also join to have the complete team there".

"I'll be there, " you say quickly, deciding you need something more substantial to drink after this conversation.

"Us too", Feyre answered as she glanced over her shoulder towards you with a not-so-subtle wink.

Hours later, after the sun had set and your anxiety had risen for a moment, you were now encompassed in the inhibitions of the alcohol humming through your veins. Ritas was as busy as always, and being surrounded by friends, good music and even better drinks, you were very much in your element of happiness.

Despite your friends being gathered around the table you always resided at or in the centre of the dancefloor, you were happy in your little corner of heaven in Ritas, where you could sway on the spot without worrying about feeling strangers' bodies knocking into yours.

The conversation continued to play over in your mind as you felt the coolness of the sweat dripping down the middle of your spine. As much as you love Mor, you could have cursed her to prison for interrupting before discovering who Feyre and Rhys were referring to because even though your heart screamed that it was about you, your mind tried to convince you otherwise. There was no way that your mated friends were turned on by you.

You're drawn away from your thoughts as a slender arm slides around your neck, and the sweet smell of Feyre wraps around you, replacing the salty sweat from the room. Her grin matches yours as she tips her head back, swaying her hips in time with yours as your fingers clasp to the thin material of her peach dress around her waist, pulling her closer.

From the way she laughed, you knew she was just as drunk as you but nevertheless still as beautiful as ever, even with the way her golden hair stuck to her face with the sweat and the glassy sheen over her eyes. You were happy to see her letting go and fully relaxing; she deserved it more than most.

You weren't sure which of you tightened your hold of the other, but now your faces are pressed together, her lips hovering next to your ear so that you could hear her say, "We didn't finish the conversation earlier".

Your feet somehow become tangled with hers as you both lose your footing, but a steady hand from behind keeps you both upright as Rhys' chest presses against your back. One of his hands remains on your waist, his thumb brushing in a circle, and the other reaches around your side to grip Feyre, pulling her even closer against your chest until your breasts are squished against hers.

"Wh-What conversation?" you pretend to forget, the rest of Ritas drowning away in the background.

"Don't play coy with us; I can smell your arousal already", Rhys growls into your other ear. You forget to breathe momentarily, so Rhys's tone calms, "Easy, breathe for us, it's ok. This will always remain a safe space". You appreciated his comfort, but for a moment, all you could think about was the way his lips caressed the shell of your ear.

I think you're beautiful, Honey. Feyre speaks dreamily mind to mind as she pulls away to look deep into your mind mesmerisingly. Her delicate fingers stroke down your cheek as her eyes flick between yours and the lips you're biting. I want you. She states this with such confidence and not an ounce of alcohol slurring her words that your knees wobble.

"I want you too", you finally whisper to her, unsure if the alcohol was giving you courage or making silly decisions on your behalf.

"And you know that Rhys wants you too; nothing about that has changed", Feyre continues as you glance over your shoulder to look up at Rhys as he kisses the side of your head. You nod, understanding that she was referring to your past with him.

"I think we should find somewhere more private, don't you?" Feyre continues as you agree with her.

One second, you're in Ritas, and the next, you're in the comforting bedroom in the townhouse of Feyre and Rhys. The instant calmness of the loud music faded, and the delicate touch of the wind as it floated through the open archway to the balcony. Sighing at the coolness as it kissed against the exposed skin of your arms, you let it distract you from the chaos erupting in your heart and mind.

Rhys moved away first, and before you turned to see what he was doing, Feyre stepped back and grabbed your hand. The two of you laughed wholeheartedly while stumbling over to their gigantic bed.

You both collapse into the centre, laughing at nothing as the springs cause you both to bounce before settling and wrapping your arms around each other.

Rhys leans against the bedpost at the base of the bed, smiling down at the two of you, especially as Feyre lifts her feet and wiggles them in his direction. "Come on, High Lord. Look busy", she giggles as Rhys smirks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and dragging her feet into his lap. Carefully, he unbuckled the straps of her heels, dropped the shoes onto the floor and carefully kissed the top of her knee as the dress she wore now pooled midthigh no that she was lying down, and then his sights were set on you.

With long strides, he's around the other side of the bed, now closest to you, and begins to remove your shoes as well, but then your feet remain over his thighs, and the reality of the situation finally dawns on you. Like he had with Feyre, his eyes never leave yours as you forget to breathe altogether, and he kisses your knee delicately.

Feyre raised to lean on her fist so that she could look down at you as your gaze turned from one to the other.

"You'll tell us if it's too much, I mean", she asks, appearing more sober as you, too, notice the liquid courage seems to have disappeared from your system as you nod in agreement at her. She smiles as Rhys' fingers caress from your ankle up to your calf. "I've never kissed a female before", she admits as the hand she isn't leaning on reaches across to run her fingers down the side of your face.

"I think you'd enjoy it", you say, sounding breathless, becoming lost in the desire that darkens her usually bright eyes. You're encouraged to continue as her fingers continue to explore your face and linger on your lips. "Kissing a man is nice and dominant, rough. But with females, they're soft, sweet, gentle but demanding if needed."

Feyre bites her lower lip as she glances at Rhys for a split second before turning her attention back down to you. "I want to kiss you", admits eternally.

"I don't think your mate would appreciate me touching what's he", you say, trying to remain as level-headed as possible, knowing that the mind between mates should not be interfered with.

Feyre's eyes gleam with mischief as she looks down at her mate, who has remained silent so far. "My mate wants to kiss you too", she confirms.

"More than you could know", Rhys then speaks, his tone taunt and deep, like he is trying to hold back, but it is all the confirmation you need.

Reaching up to your High lady, you cup her jaw and pull her close, meeting her halfway as your lips connect. The two of you forget to breathe momentarily, simply remaining in place and allowing each of your emotions to escalate before your movements finally catch up to your pounding heart.

Your lips press more firmly, moving against hers until they relax and open, giving you the perfect position to tease your tongue between her lips. You both moan, especially now that you can taste her, feel her loosening and falling more into the kiss, finding the courage to push your head back onto the bed and become more demanding.

Your fingers slip through her hair as you greedily try to taste the other. She was sweet, oh so fucking sweet you could have drowned in her and thanked the Cauldron for giving you the opportunity. Her full lips are cushioned against yours until you're both starving of oxygen and needing to pull back to breathe.

A second, this lasted before her face wasn't above yours anymore, and your High Lord was leaning over your body, his hand now cupping the entire side of your face as he kissed you with greed. The sensation of nostalgia hit, the taste that you'd grown fond of over the years of intimacy before Feyre crashed through your senses. Yet, there was something new and exciting with this kiss, even as you continued to stroke through his mate's hair and hold her to your side as Rhysand bruised your lips, his tongue entering your mouth for a brief second as you moaned.

Then he's pulling back, and you're welcomed to the beautiful sight of Feyre and Rhys desperately kissing. You'd seen them kiss more times than you could count, but being this close, having each of them still clutching onto your body in some way.

Feyre was the first to ease away, tilting her head slightly so that Rhysands lips could move to the slop of her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses until reaching the strap of her dress on her shoulder and easing it down. Coping his movement, you, too, moved the strap off of her other shoulder and the material pooled below her ribs, exposing her breasts to you. There wasn't a second wasted before you moved to lick one of her perked nipples as Rhys nibbled on the other.

The soft moan from Feyre lit a fire in your belly as you continued to taste the sweetness of her skin, but then your head was moved back as Feyre demanded your mouth with hers once more.

With your back pressed against the bed, Feyre attempts to move over you but then halts herself, "I don't know what I'm doing" Feyre giggles.

Grinning up at her innocence, you admire the way that her eyes are half-lidded and swollen lips are pulled between her teeth as Rhys continues to caress her nipples and breasts with his mouth and hands.

Tucking a stray curl of golden hair behind her ear, you explain, "Touch me like you'd touch yourself. Do you touch yourself?" you ask, clarifying. The apples of her cheeks had already risen from the alcohol and kissing, but now they deepened in the shade as she said yes. Rhys growls against her chest at the thought of her touching herself and then begins to remove her dress further down her body until she's naked. You see, seeing that she'd gone without underwear and reached to touch her now slightly sensitive nipples.

Once more, you admire how she hitches a breath at the touch. She still seems hesitant as her fingers draw your dress's edge against your collarbones. Rhys, also sensing her nerves, lies on the other side of you, resting his head on his fist as he wraps his large hand around Feyre's small one.

"Here, let ms show you, Darling", he explains lowly, and you notice that he's now topless, the muscles flexing with his movements and bat wings flared out behind him, hovering in the air.

You and Feyre watch as Rhys moves her hand over your chest, cupping your breast over your dress and squeezing firmly. You can't help but rub your thighs together as the low pleasure builds in your already aroused body, the air thick with seedy scents from all three of you.

Rhys then catches your eye, winking cheekily with a handsome smirk. Within a blink of an eye, all clothes that remained on his or your body disappeared, and now Feyre's hand was pressed directly against your skin.

Your back arches slightly into the touch, pushing your breast into her hand, and then it's your turn to gasp as Rhys moves her fingers to pinch your nipple fiery, tugging it away from your body and then pressing a thumb against the aching area.

It was a sight you adored watching as Feyre tentatively began to learn how to touch your body. There was so much you wanted to do to both of them, and as much as you wanted to give Feyre a chance to move lower, you didn't like the attention just on you. It was challenging to decide whether to touch him or her, but as it was Feyre's first time with a girl, you wanted to see if she enjoyed your face between her legs.

"Feyre, can I be on top of you?" you ask her with a surprisingly pitched voice.

She grins as her eyes glow ever brighter as she rolls onto her back, "You don't have to ask".

Returning her smile, you slip around Rhys and straddle Feyre's waist, leaning down to kiss her hungrily for a few seconds before moving backwards, lower down her body. "I want to taste you". Your words pressed against her skin as your mouth journeyed south, kissing the peaks of her breasts down her sternum and toned stomach. Her breaths were coming out in quick huffs as she squirmed on the bed, legs spreading as your body fit between them, your face pressing against the softness of her thighs.

Feyre's arousal was evidenced by the wetness that now caressed your cheek as you nuzzled yourself closer, resting your weight on your chest and arse perked in the air as you felt the High Lord move behind you. Blowing cool air over Feyre's beautiful cunt, you loved how responsive she already was as she shivered and gripped tightly to the sheet beneath her, looking down her body at you.

Whilst holding her eye contact, you finally lowered your mouth to her, tongue sweeping over her labia and tasting her salty but uniquely beautiful juices. The High Lady's gasp was like music to your ears, especially as you pressed more firmly, dipping beneath and stroking over her clit and feeling it throb against your tongue. "You taste so fucking good".

Rhys, who was licking his lips at the sight, began to hover over both of you, kissing down your spine, causing goosebumps to rush to the surface of your skin. He, too, began to use his tongue to pleasure as he knelt behind you, flicking his tongue into your cunt and pushing in. You groan, and in turn, Feyre does, too.

"I've missed this", Rhys admits from behind as he circles your hole with his fingers, carefully easing a single digit within. This was the first time you'd been penetrated by anything in over 50 years. Amarantha had often tortured you with your arousal, making sure you were never given anything to ease the ache, but then after her demise, even when you touched yourself, you were so sensitive it would only take clitoris to play for you to orgasm.

Your back arches, pressing your breasts further into the bed and arse harder into Rhys' face as he rocks his finger in and out before adding another and beginning to curl his fingers until your whimpering into his mate's cunt. Warmth flushed over your face as you realised just how quickly you were close to orgasm, so you moved with more enthusiasm as you sucked on her clit and then pressed your tongue firmly against it. Then, for the first time in 50 years, you used your powers because you wanted to, not because you were being forced to.

Rhys and Feyre both moan loudly enough that the bed trembles. You'd caused the sensation for him that his cock was now being wrapped tightly down someone's throat and Feyre to fill full internally, with someone caressing the sensitive nerves within her cunt, both nipples being sucked on by an invisible force.

"What was that?" she cries out as she closes her eyes, her hips now rotating on their own accord as she chases her high. You could have made her orgasm with your powers but didn't want to overwhelm her immediately, so you settled in softly as you continue to circle her clit.

Not stopping to answer her question, you match the sensations you're going through and then as Rhys' thumb pressed against your clit and the hurricane of an orgasm pulsed through your cunt and abdomen, you made sure that both mates also came at the same time.

Rhys grunted, one hand coming to rest on your hip and squeezing the flesh as he humped against the bed, staining the sheets with his seed, and Feyre coated your mouth with her arousal, her thighs almost crushing you in the process, but you would have died happy right there.

While still trying to catch her breath, Feyre suddenly announces loudly, "Sit on my face". You and Rhys' face snap up to look at her, laughing at the crudeness of her words that aren't usually that forward. She appears sheepish for once, asking, "What? Did I say it wrong?"

"Not at all", you begin whilst crawling up her body until you're face to face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

With Rhys' steady hands on your hips, you moved to kneel on either side of your High Lady's face, looking down your body at her excited expression. Still reluctant, it takes Feyre's tattoed fingers to wrap around your thighs and pull your body down before her mouth is on your intimate area. You weren't sure who moaned louder, you or Feyre, as she started by licking and tasting between your folds before building more enthusiasm and dipping the tip of her tongue into your pussy.

"You're doing so good", you praise whilst holding one hand on the headboard of the bed and the other slipping into Feyre's hair. Glancing over your shoulder, you admire Rhys, who was on his knees watching the two of you, his hand wrapped around his surprisingly already hard cock. He looked almost godly in this position, the tattoos of the mountains on his knees gleaming at you for more than one reason, his wings spread wide behind him. "Look busy, High Lord; I think our beautiful High Lady's cunt is looking lonely down there".

"It would be my honour, Love", Rhys agrees, moving closer and easing his mates legs over his thighs as he lowers the tip of his cock over her clit, teasing her for a second before entering her. You could feel the rush of air against your pussy as she gasps, rotating her hips as she rocks against Rhys.

You match the movements, rolling your hips against her face as her nose knocks against your bundle of nerves and her tongue moves ever deeper. Everything felt so good; your body was alive with emotions and buzzing nerves. You could have died happy right there, especially as your face is then tilted back and Rhys' mouth is on yours, kissing whilst fucking his mate.

Even with his tongue down your throat, you wish you could praise Feyre; she makes you feel so good, even though it is her first time doing this. And Rhys, he always knew how to leave you breathless and begging for more.

You weren't even prepared as your orgasm rocked you very well. Rhys had to half hold you up as your body trembled, cunt squeezing and pulling around Feyre's tongue until the sensations lessons at you collapsed next to the pair, trying to catch your breath.

Then you watched, with awe and amazement, as Rhys fucked Feyre, their fingers all over each other, grasping and holding as both of them eased closer to their peak. But even then, when both were breathless and arching their backs, you were still being grabbed and included with kisses and touches until all three were motionless in the middle of the bed.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, having not had two orgasms in quick successions in so long, and the thrill of emotions was enough to have you falling asleep almost immediately. Not before you're checked in by both of them, Rhys wraps an arm around your waist, and Feyre's head rests against your chest.

"Are you ok? I mean - was that alright for you?" she whispers, sounding just as exhausted as you.

"It was perfect", you respond before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Waking up was not the blissful peace you'd hoped it would be. The thrill of the alcohol had completely gone from your body, and all that remained was a heavy sickness of guilt in your stomach. Last night was beyond perfect. Everything you could have wanted and more, but reality was your worst enemy.

Feyre and Rhys were mates, not only this but your High Lord and Lady. A fun night of relieving tensions for them meant so much more for you; emotions that had attempted to lay dormant were now screaming in your mind that you'd made one of the worst mistakes yet. They wouldn't want you. They couldn't have you anyway. No matter how deep the feelings ran, there was no such thing as a mates pair having a third join.

When the pair would wake, you knew it would be full of awkwardness and 'let's never do this again'. So, with great difficulty, you began to untangle yourself from the duo, careful not to wake either of them as you climbed out of bed.

It wouldn't happen again, and the sooner you realised this and came to terms with it, the easier the pain in your heart could ease. Grabbing your dress that was folded on a nearby chair, you slipped it on and, with your shoes in hand, left without glancing back at the sleeping couple.

You had a room in their house, much like the rest of the inner circle, but there was no way you could remain in the same room as them for a day, at least so, after changing into more comfortable clothes and hiding under a coat, you left to go to your own home.

It was on the other side of Velaris, and on the walk there, with the sun slowly beginning to rise and wake up the other occupants of your home town, you had time to overthink every single touch and moan from last night. Eventually, you arrived at your abandoned apartment, having hardly slept here since your nightmares were so crippling that you needed to stay near Rhys and Feyre at all times.

You attempted to distract yourself by scrubbing your skin raw, trying to remove the scents of both of them away, but when that didn't work, you moved to deep cleaning your home, which now had a thick layer of dust and cobwebs across the surfaces. This was until you could collapse with exhaustion into your cold bed.

The nightmares were there, so violently, in fact, that you were startled awake because you couldn't breathe. Your mouth opened to scream for Rhys to save you but stopped, biting on your tongue until blood coated your mouth. Scrubbing a heavy hand down your face as you caught your breath and eased the ache in your chest, you glanced out of the window, seeing the sun high in the sky, meaning it hadn't been that long since you'd fallen asleep.

Your stomach gave a hungry growl as you sighed, collapsing back onto your pillow, staring aimlessly towards your ceiling.

I was going to give you one more hour of rest before coming to find you, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Rhys' voice echoed in your mind in a deep drawl that had a fluttering of pain seep into your chest as you remembered last night. Deciding to do something you've never done before, you tried to ignore him, turning over and pulling your bed sheet over your head and shutting down your mental shields, but he simply pushed them aside with his talons.

Why are you there and not at home?

Without thinking, you snapped back sassily, This is my home.

He didn't comment on your tone as he continued to ask. Why did you leave?

I needed to shower. You answered simply, knowing it was a useless excuse.

We could have showered together. Rhys purred back, and even his tone was your core warming. Unsure of what to reply with, you decide remaining silent was your best option, so he filled the silence with more questions. I don't want to intrude on your personal space but don't block us out. Last night was-.

I know.  You cut off his sentence, not wanting to hear his rejections. It's fine. I'll just speak to you later, Rhysand.

Rhysand? When do you ever call me that? He sounded more urgent with his questions, so you try even harder with your mental shields until a thick wall separates the two of you, and his words are finally silenced. Your emotions finally snap as you sob until you can't breathe.

You remained in this position for the rest of the day. Your hunger is now dormant with the sickness in your chest. The tears would dry and then start again as you feel the ghost of their lips against your skin with the memories that continued to spiral through your mind over and over again. Eventually, the sunset, and you were left with the shadows from the fae lights to keep you company.

Deciding the bedroom only made you feel worse; you move into the living room, sit on the couch, and stare at the wall.

At one point, you could feel the stroke of gentle fingers against your mental shields, but you kept them in place, deciding it was best to ignore Feyre as well. However, a firm knock came on your door late into the night. You wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to leave whoever was there to think you were asleep, but as the knock came again, you decided to just get it over and done with, already knowing who was there.

Opening the door, you're greeted by Feyre and Rhys, holding a plate of your favourite food and both smiling gently towards you, their eyes searching over your body to check you're well but noticing how red and bloodshot the whites of your eyes were.

"A peace offering":  Feyre offers the place towards you, but you don't take it; you step out of the way and allow them to enter your home. Moving further into the room, you returned to the corner of the couch, avoiding their eye contact as you tucked your knees beneath you and hugged a pillow to your chest.

Feyre places the plate on the small table before you and sits to your right, while Rhys sits opposite in the armchair.

"I've never actually been here before. It's cute." Feyre continues trying to cheer you up somehow, but you ignore her.

"I'm sorry", you finally painfully say, wanting to get it over and done with.

"Sorry?" Rhys asks in confusion, leaning forward until he rests his elbows on his knees. "For what?"

You couldn't help but flinch, turning your shoulders in to appear smaller. "For last night. For overstepping in your relationship. I shouldn't have let my emotions dictate my actions. I've- I've just been so lonely, and I trust you both more than anyone, but you're mates, and I know what's happened is unforgivable and-".

A delicate hand covers your mouth, stopping your flow of words as Feyre leans forward with fire lighting her eyes, eyebrows set furrowed. "Would you stop trying to say how me and Rhys feel, please? Because I think you'll find you're incredibly wrong with every single thing that you say". Her hand begins to lower, and you open your mouth to battle what she has said, so she quickly keeps her hand over your mouth. "Nope! No talking, just listen. We don't regret anything about last night".

Without using your mouth, you roll your eyes, but that only earns you a squeeze against your cheeks. Rhys then begins to talk, "She's not lying. There isn't an ounce of regret in my body" his eyes remain steady as he stares at you.

"Yes, Rhys and I are mates, and the thought of someone touching what's mine fills me with murderous rage, but when I watched the two of you touch and kiss, I felt anything but negativity. You've not just been anyone to me; you're special to both of us. More than you could ever know."

"You saved my life under the mountain. Without you, I wouldn't have survived her", Rhys admitted, referring to the one person you hated more than the King of Hybern. At seeing your relaxed state, Feyre finally loses her hand from your face as you stare at the deep, raw emotions on Rhys' face, the sharpness as his jaw tensed.

"You saved me too", Feyre continues as you look towards her now. "In those dark dungeons when you would visit to keep me company or healy my body and mind, there's no way I would have survived it all".

She takes your hand, squeezing your fingers as she talks. "You haven't just been a friend to us. Even now that I and Rhy are mates, I feel this longing to be near you. I often thought maybe we are meant to have more than one mate because the way I feel for you isn't just lust".

Your breath was out heavily, not realising you'd been holding your breath as they both spoke, a lightness filling your heart and mind. "I thought you both would come to regret what we did. That my emotions were just one way because you saved me more times than I could ever begin to list. You're my closest friends; save me from the dark each night, but after what we did, I thought I'd overstepped the boundary, and you wouldn't want to see me again".

"Well then, you don't know me then, do you? Because I don't back down from what I want, and I meant what I said when I said I wanted you," Feyre responds passionately as your gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips before Rhys inches forward until kneeling beside you both, his hand resting over yours and Feyres joined hands.

"This may be difficult to understand. Yes, we are mates, but you have always meant something close to me, and I've known for a long time that Feyre feels similarly. I want you, Love, like I want Feyre. The thought of not being able to have you or someone else's hands on you makes me want to strike everyone down" he pauses to take a deep, steadying breath as he rolls his neck to ease the tension and anger that burst from him as his jealous emotions overtake him. "If you don't want to be with us, we'd understand and return to how we have always been. But we can't lose you, even as a friend".

You scoff, unable to hold back your reaction, as you sit up with a burst of energy, looking between them. "Of course, I want you both! I thought it was obvious. There's no way I'm letting either of you go" Your fingers tighten in their hold as you finally smile. Rhys and Feyre sigh in relief. "I don't understand how this is going to work, though, between the three of us. How do we even explain this to the others?"

Rhys shrugs his shoulders, "It's not for them to get. This will be understood with time, but let's concentrate on each other, being together and learning this new dynamic. It's not anything to rush, just that we each understand that we have each other".

Life came with its highs and lows. Even at its lowest, the smudging of hope could draw you out and lead you on a whole new path. All those years ago, never would you have thought you could be with two of the most remarkable people of all of Pyrthian, but by the Cauldron, you were going to hold onto them so tight and never let them go.

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time Chapter 2

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So Danny? 100% has PTSD. I do have a vague plan for this. And most of the next chap written. The Fentons may or may not be terrible parents. You’ll have to wait and see. I do have plans to break everyone’s hearts at least once. Anyways. This is considered my like…. Audience test before Ao3. Things may change. As a reminder all I know about dc is from fandom and wiki and everything I remember about dp is prob poorly remembered.

—

Once upon a time, there had been a young boy who was happy. Once upon a time, there was a young boy who had dreams and a future. Once upon a time, there was a boy who had been alive in every sense of the word. Once upon a time, everything shattered. Once upon a time, there was a man who was filled with anger. Once upon a time, there was a man just as alive as he was dead. Once upon a time, there was a man who was haunted and hunted.

As the stabbed kid shuffled off, leaving Jason baffled, he grabbed the guy who he had slammed into the wall. His head was bleeding but his breathing was steady and Jason huffed. He knew he definitely cracked the guy’s skull, but he had survived worse.

“O, what do we know on this guy?” He asked the woman in his ear. Oracle’s answer would determine whether he took the guy in to the ER or let him roll the dice of fate.

“Rap sheet about a mile long. Pretty basic stuff. Armed robbery, possession with intent, B&Es, assault and battery, the usual.”

Jason shrugged then and dropped the guy against the wall. Rolling the dice it was. He turned away, looking towards where the kid disappeared around the corner “and what about the guy he was mugging?”

“That’s where it gets weird.” Oracle’s typing was coming through loud and clear. “It’s hard to get a clear picture of him. He has some sort of distortion on the feed. Everything else comes out clear but…. He’s a mess of pixels. Voice too. Scrambled. It’ll take time.”

“Think he’s a meta?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, considering he got knifed and just…. Walked off with it. Wonder what his issue with B is though.”

“Couldn’t tell you. Think it might be time to update my armor if I’m being lumped in with people B and the bird brains have pissed off.” Jason took an evidence kit out of his pocket and swiped at the blood on his chest. Old habits and all. “Got a sample of the kid’s blood though.”

“Good thinking. Wonder if he’s in any databases. I’ve got a cleaned up picture now. Enough that it’s pinging in GU’s database. Dan Nightingale, Mechanical engineering major. It says he’s 19, it’s his freshman year and he’s in like every remedial class he can take, high school transcripts are mediocre at best. No other information about him really. Rogue in the making that one.” Oracle reported. Jason groaned, grapneling up to the rooftops to follow where the kid went off to.

“Someone should keep an eye on him. Ugh. This’ll be a conversation for B and the birds won’t it? Kid won’t like having a bunch of birds following him.” Jason flicked through the different visual modes on his visor, finding…. Cold moving through one of the apartment buildings. It was human shaped, but where he expected to find heat…. “Weird…. You seeing this?”

“Very weird,” Barbara agreed, tapping into his visor’s feed. “And hey, you could just…. Not tell him. You wanted a Lit degree right? Go to class, befriend him. Do some recon.” Jason knew Babs always walked the fine line between what Bruce needed to know about the rest of them and what she had to keep secret to keep helping them. He didn’t envy her position. Jason still wanted Bruce to hurt sometimes. Not as much as he used to, something about the sins of the father and all that. He just wanted Bruce to be aware that everything he had ever hoped for his boy to be was… out of both of their reaches forever.

“That sounds annoying.” He was 23. He didn’t have any interest in taking on a degree on top of his full time crime fighting and criminal empire running jobs.

“Yeah, but what other choice do you have? It’s go back to school, tell B, or wait for him to become a rogue.”

“I hate you sometimes.” He muttered, unsure of what made him suddenly so interested in that angry guy.

“Feeling’s mutual Hood,” She replied with what was definitely a fond tone. He grimaced.

—-

In the apartment, Danny was less than thrilled. That was his favorite shirt! Now not only was it covered in blood, it had a huge hole in it. His core still thrummed with the urge to fight, but he tamped it down. Slowly, as he pulled the knife out, he sealed the wound with a layer of ice, pulling his shirt off and throwing it into the bathroom sink. The knife was dropped into the kitchen sink. His keys and phone in his bedroom on the battered nightstand next to the bed.

He returned to the bathroom and turned the water on cold. He let it spray full blast before working on scrubbing the blood from his shirt. He looked up to eye himself critically in the mirror before noticing the waistband of his jeans were saturated with blood too. Damn it. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants off, throwing them into the now overfilled sink. The bathtub would probably be a better choice. Turning off the sink and turning on the tub Danny picked up the sopping clothes and dropped them with a wet thump into the basin of the tub. Carefully he lowered himself onto the floor, wincing at the way pain clawed through him.

He would need to actually eat food to heal from this at any reasonable speed. He thought of the two dollars he had, then the emergency stash of….he racked his brain to remember how much of the emergency cash he was left with once he got to Gotham…right. Twenty bucks…. That was all he had in the wall.

He missed the days when Sam would just throw money at him whenever his parents forgot to do things like pay rent or put food in the fridge.

As if agreeing his stomach rumbled loudly, demanding actual food to sate the expense of energy healing his injury would take. He thought about calling Sam. Seeing if she could arrange a prepaid card for him. He knew she would in a heartbeat.

Even cut off from family money she seemed to be doing better than he was. Wracking his brain, Danny thought she was working in Bludhaven as some sort of personal assistant. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion that came from sustaining a human body on nothing but ecto or if he had been too distracted in the moment to pay proper attention, but he couldn’t remember if that was right. Getting the blood out of his clothes he wiped at the remaining blood on his body, getting most of it off. He grabbed the clothes and turned off the water.

Slowly, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He had survived worse, multiple times. But pain never seemed to stop being painful. It lanced through his side and he almost fell back to his knees with the way it stole his breath and doubled him over. He wished he could go back to the Zone and just… wait it out. But in order to do that without drawing attention he’d need a portal. The only ones he knew of were either destroyed or…. Compromised.

Maybe he should call Vlad. Danny shook that thought away almost immediately as he realized how silly it was. Vlad spent most of his teen years antagonizing him. Besides the GIW had probably gotten to Vlad too. If he wasn’t captured he would likely be compromised. Memories of Amity Park flooded in before Danny could stop them. Of asking for help. Over and over. Of the GIW storming in and locking everything down. Of Danny frantically telling his parents, only for their eyes to dart to the kitchen before they could stop it. Of the sound of energy. The smell of his flesh burning. Of pain.

Danny forced himself to take a breath. He focused on the wet clothes in his hands. On the tiles beneath his feet. Of the too harsh fluorescents in the bathroom that buzzed. The sounds of the people above him arguing over bills and needing better jobs.

Slowly he banished the memories back where they belonged. He’d… figure it out. He had to. Somehow. For now, sleep. Danny hung up the wet clothes over the shower bar, made sure there was a towel on the floor and shuffled into the bedroom. Double checking that his alarm was set, even though his class wasn’t until early afternoon, he didn’t want to miss it, he slid into his bed and pulled the pile of blankets up over him.

Almost instantly, he was out.

—-

“B,” Jason said in lieu of a proper greeting as he stepped into the Batcave, hood tucked under his arm.

“Jason,” Bruce looked up and turned the surprised expression into something more fond. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Jason leaned against the rock. Foot braced against the wall. “I know semester’s already started, but something came up. How hard would it be to start at GU?”

Bruce stared at him for a long moment and Jason knew it was his way of trying to figure out what buttons to press. Then he tilted his head and turned back to the computer screen. “Not too hard. It is early yet. Anything I should know?”

“Babs was lonely.” It was an out and out lie, but it seemed to soften things in Bruce further, reminding him of the two children that failed him within months of each other.

“Hm.” Bruce was silent at his computer for a long moment. Convinced that was the end of the conversation, Jason tightened his grip on the helmet he had tucked under his arm. “Either way. It is a good choice. Literature?”

The comment and question rankled Jason, the thing from the pit scratching at his carefully contained emotions. Pushing for any crack. Bruce was trying he reminded himself. Too little too late, but trying.

“Yeah. Going in in the morning.”

“Should I call ahead?”

“No. I can handle it. If not I have no business being there.”

“You will do fine.” The ‘you are a Wayne’ was left unspoken.

Jason snorted. “Right. Good talk.”

“Are you staying the night?” An olive branch. Jason wanted to burn it. He tempered the impulse to a spark.

“I have my own place.”

“Your room is still yours when you want it.”

“Yeah. The room of the worst Robin in history. Pass.” Jason turned and walked stiffly back up the steps. Hearing the soft growl of Batman behind him. The start of an argument.

He considered it a victory that he didn’t run into any of his siblings or Alfred on the way out.