#I realize I am not normal about this at all

[foxy-eva]

Send Nudes

Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Panic. Embarrassment. Shame. 

It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself. 

It was a mistake, of course – right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly. 

Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone. 

A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasn’t a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body. 

You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon you’d both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did. 

“I am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?” 

You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended – you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either. 

You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night – from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap – you had no idea what would expect you today. 

Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day. 

“Wow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?” Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane. 

“Did he say anything to you?” you wanted to know. 

“No, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?” he teased. 

“Oh it’s so much worse than that,” you whined while heat rushed to your face. 

Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough. 

A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.

“Hey Spencer,” you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“H…hi,” he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore. 

“I’m very sorry about the… you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,” you sincerely told him. 

“I’m not… offended.”

You took a deep breath before you continued talking, “All I want to say is… if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.” 

“No, it’s okay, really,” he lied. “We can just forget about it.” 

Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasn’t his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable. 

The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you. 

If this thing didn't resolve soon, you’d have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.

The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side. 

He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that. 

“I uh…” he began before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you earlier.”

“About what?” you wanted to clarify. “Wanting to go to HR?” 

He shook his head. “I said that we can just forget about it but I don’t think I can do that.” 

Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. “I’m so sorry Spencer.”

“I deleted the image off my phone but…” he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked… cocky?

He continued, “...it seems like it’s burned into my brain. And I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident?”

“What?! Of course!” you squeaked. “Believe me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.”

That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. “Interesting choice of words.” 

You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if he’d ask you to? 

“That's not what I meant,” you tried to brush it off. “And please don’t give me a lecture about Freudian slips.”

His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.

His next question was even more surprising. “Who did you take this picture for?” 

The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. “I don’t see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.” 

It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did. 

He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture. 

A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.

Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, “What did you do after you saw the picture?”

The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. “I just told you, I deleted it.” 

“I don't think that's all you did.” He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, “Did you touch yourself, Spencer?”

A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, “Yes.”

“Naughty boy,” You teased him. “You really liked that image, hm?” 

Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

His words boosted your confidence. “I know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, don’t you think?” 

Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours. 

He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours. 

When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought you’d have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was. 

Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out. 

Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencer’s body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt. 

Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him. 

It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump. 

As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, “Go on, take a look.”

His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldn’t hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed when your eyes met again. 

“Better than the image?” you teased, smirking at him. 

He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if you’d let him. But first, you had something else in your mind. 

“Show me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,” you told him. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Wh… what?” 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “Come on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.” 

The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful. 

You couldn’t deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane. 

Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand. 

Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you. 

“Please,” he begged as he stepped closer. “I need to touch you.” 

It was everything you wanted right then, too. 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didn’t waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow. 

He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs. 

Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“Needy,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. “That’s cute.” 

Right then you couldn’t care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didn’t waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds. 

You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes. 

“You’re so wet,” he teased and let a finger move along your slit. “Is that all for me?” 

He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, “Yes.” 

There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.

“Good,” Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief. 

His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away – even though he had no intention to do so, anyway. 

With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing. 

The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you. 

“You okay?” he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body. 

Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. “Now what are we gonna do with you?” you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp. 

With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. “Tell me, Spencer. What do you want?” 

“I uhm…,” he audibly swallowed. “I have a condom in my pocket.” 

The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you. 

“So, you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “If you want that, too, of course.”

With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom. 

Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. 

“Come here,” you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation. 

Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind. 

Spencer’s body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving. 

“Sorry, I’m really close,” he whined and tried to pull out slightly. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. “Please, I need it.”

One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered as he began moving again. “I can’t, ah–” 

With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath. 

For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencer’s lips and caught your attention. 

“So…,” he began talking but didn’t continue. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask if maybe–” 

“You want me to send you that pic again?” you interrupted him with a grin on your face. 

“No,” he laughed. “I mean… that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, “But you would like to see that pic again?”

“You know what,” he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. “I think I actually prefer this.”

“Good,” you chirped. “If you want to see more of me you’ll have to take me on a date though.”

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Deal.”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[torturedlexdepartment]

Tidal Wave

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Author's note: another CA repost 😅🤣 i really was OBSESSED

Warnings: SMUT, smoking, drinking, masturbation, fingering, somnophilia, oral (rem receiving), choking, biting, hair pulling, dom JJ, sex under the influence

Summary: after a talk about your kinks earlier in the night, JJ can't help but try to bring some of them to life

You and JJ were sitting by the fire outside of the chateau. The shack was basically your second home. You and your friends were hosting a party. The yard was packed with people from the island and a couple of tourons. This was one of your favorite parts of summer. You were already really buzzed when you decided to share a joint with JJ. One of your favorite extracurricular activities to do with your best friend.

You and JJ always had the most interesting conversations during your smoke sessions. You took way too much of a rip off the joint before passing it back to JJ and coughed your lungs out. He grinned, trying hard not to laugh at you.

“Always trying to bite off more than you can chew Y/N.” He teased.

“Don’t be a dick or I’m not sharing my pot with you anymore.” You playfully shoved him and he huffed.

“Hey now, no need to be hasty.” He passed the joint back to you and you finished the rest in silence. You were definitely crossfaded by the last rip and you felt like you were floating.

“You know what we never talked about before Y/N?”

“What?”

“What our kinks are.” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment for a second but you were super intrigued to learn what your highly attractive friend liked in bed.

“You first.”

“Hmm, I like it when a girl tugs at my hair, not even gonna lie. And lets me have my way with her.” He smirked, all proud while you cocked your brow at him. You tried your hardest not to clench your thighs together at the thought of him being so dominant. “What about you huh?”

“Choking, biting, hair pulling, ya know the normal stuff. But also there’s something I’ve always fantasized about but haven’t gotten to experience.” That caught his attention. “Okay so don’t judge me but I am really turned on by the thought of someone teasing and touching me while I’m unconscious.” You almost regretted letting the words leave your mouth until you saw the look on JJ’s face. He couldn’t hide the smirk if he tried.

“You mean like having someone fuck you in your sleep?” You nodded and he had to bite his tongue. JJ put his best poker face at what you just revealed to him. He didn’t want you to know that his cock twitched in his shorts at the thought of him being able to make you cum when you were in your most vulnerable state.

“Sounds hot.” His reaction surprised you and the smile on his face had you feeling flustered all of a sudden. You always found him sexy. Especially under the influence but tonight felt different. This whole conversation had you incredibly hot and bothered and it frustrated you that you had no way to relieve yourself. You were half tempted to ask JJ but you were always worried your attraction was one-sided and it wasn’t worth risking the friendship no matter how horny you were.

You both kept talking about random things for a while before Kie and Sarah stole you away for some dancing around the fire. You didn’t notice how JJ was eyeing you the whole time, your previous conversation replaying over and over in his mind. He watched you sway to the music as he sipped his beer. He often fantasized about what it would be like to kiss you, to taste you, what it would feel like to be inside of you. But the whole kink conversation had him even deeper in his feelings. If only he realized that his attraction wasn’t one-sided.

Another hour or so went by and the party started to dissipate. You were way too wasted to go home, a common occurrence after these parties. You stayed at the chateau often. Usually on the couch but sometimes JJ would offer for you to share the bed with him in the spare bedroom. You weren’t sure where he was at when you decided to turn in for the night. You told all the other pogues you were heading to bed. You groaned when you entered the room. It was the middle of summer and it was hot as hell, this room always seemed to get stuffy. You walked over to the window to crack it.

You didn’t even give it a second thought before you were stripping down to your bra and panties. There was no way you were going to survive sleeping fully dressed. You climbed into the bed and didn’t even bother to cover up with the blanket. The effects of the pot and alcohol together still had you feeling amazing. Unfortunately, all it did was make you insanely horny. And it was torture because you had no one to help you out.

You decided the only option you had was yourself. You laid on your back and closed your eyes and started teasing yourself by playing around with your nipples. They were always so sensitive when you were this turned on. It didn’t take much for you to get wet in this euphoric state. You slid your hand down your panties and started lazily rubbing your clit. You were still so high that you didn’t catch yourself starting to fall asleep while you attempted to fuck yourself. You gave up on the fact and turned over and drifted off to sleep quickly. You were sleeping deeply by the time JJ made his way into the bedroom.

“Y/N, you still awake?” Your silence gave him his answer as he walked across the room, stripping off his boots. He didn’t realize you were half-naked until he was just feet away from the bed. He stopped to do a double-take before sitting on the bed next to you. He admired you sleeping soundly for a few moments before he covered you up with the blanket. He tried to push away all his dirty thoughts of you being only in your underwear in his bed. He had wondered if you did this on purpose. He tried hard to snap out of those thoughts as he made himself comfortable and laid down next to you.

You had rolled over onto your back when you felt his weight shift next to you. You started mumbling in your sleep and he figured that you must have been dreaming. He laid facing you, still in the middle of an internal battle with himself on what he was going to do. He knew it was probably wrong but all he could think about was helping you out with your fantasy. It took him a few minutes but he was finally able to shut himself down and roll over away from you.

Only a couple of minutes had passed before he heard you rambling in your sleep again. This time he could make out some words.

“Please just touch me.” You mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. He tried hard to ignore you but his eyes shot open when he heard his name fall from your lips. “JJ, I need you.” He quickly rolled over and almost completely fell apart at the sight next to him. You were still asleep but had managed to slide your hand back into your panties. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life. Hearing his name come from your mouth felt like permission enough for him to do what he wanted all night.

He started by replacing your hand with his, as gentle as possible. He could feel himself get instantly hard when he felt how soaked you were. Your breathing intensified when you felt his fingers toying with you. You were having the sexiest dream ever, not realizing that it was a part of your reality. His fingers felt way better than your own. He was slow about his movements, taking his time enjoying the sweet sounds escaping your lips.

He was getting off in his own way getting to pleasure you. He dove his digits down and slid one inside of you. You arched your back immediately and he couldn’t help himself. He started placing sweet kisses on the side of your neck as he plunged his finger in and out of you. He added another one and his mind went crazy imagining fucking you with his cock. You were so tight around just his fingers, he knew you were going to be the death of him.

After a few minutes of this, his neediness was starting to get the better of him. He wanted to do more. He removed his fingers from you and slipped down in between your legs. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started sliding them down your legs. He started cursing to himself when he caught the first glance at your soaking wet pussy. It was no doubt the prettiest pussy he had ever laid his eyes on. He spread your legs wide for him and licked his lips.

He started out by kissing the inside of your thighs tenderly. He noticed your breathing deepen even more before he licked one slow stripe up the center of your heat. You still thought you were in the middle of the best dream ever and you knew exactly what was happening. He smiled into your pussy when he felt you buck your hips into his face. He paid extra attention to your clit with his tongue as he slipped his fingers back inside of you.

You moaned out and he stopped for a second, thinking you woke up. But went back to his devilish actions when he realized you were still unconscious. He realized he had found that sweet spot inside of you as you grew louder and louder every time his fingers grazed it. He could feel you starting to clench around them and he started sucking on your clit harshly. All he wanted to do was make you cum and lick you clean. Your pussy was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted and he knew he would never get enough. He prayed this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing as he felt your hands tug at his hair. Your eyes fluttered open and you quickly realized that you weren’t dreaming at all. Your ultimate fantasy was playing out right before your eyes.

“Fuck, JJ don’t stop.” His eyes met yours as he continued to devour you. He was even more determined to make you cum now that you were awake. You throwing your head back in pleasure was something he swore he’d never get out of his mind as the band inside you snapped and you covered his face with your release. He didn’t stop lapping at you until there was nothing left to clean up. He kissed up your stomach until he reached your lips.

“Baby, please let me fuck you.” He begged and that’s all you wanted to hear. You needed his cock inside of you.

“Please.” You whimpered and he crashed his lips into yours, the taste of yourself still present on his tongue. You removed your bra and started tugging at his shirt and he pulled it over his head, throwing it on the floor. He admired your tits for a moment before he came back down to kiss you, much deeper than before. You enjoyed kissing him but you were growing more and more impatient. You grabbed for his cock through his shorts, earning you a low groan. You helped him out of his shorts and boxers, his cock springing against his stomach. You bit your lip in anticipation as he rested himself back in between your legs.

He started rubbing his cock through your folds to tease you and left hungry kisses on the side of your neck. You gasped out in relief when he slowly started inching himself into you. His was stretching you out more than anyone else ever had. You would never get enough of feeling this full. You reattached your lips to his as he slowly started thrusting in and out of you.

“You feel so good around me princess.” He was fucking you softly but you craved more. Call it the inner animal in you but you wanted him to completely destroy you.

“J, I want you to have your way with me. Ruin me, make me fall apart.” Your words made him do flips inside.

“I”m going to fuck you so good, you’re going to get wet at the sound of my name.” He growled in your ear and started pounding into you mercilessly. He felt so incredible inside of you, that you worried about how long you were going to last. He started biting your neck and you clawed at his back, both of you leaving marks to claim each other. His moans were almost as loud as yours and it was the hottest thing you had ever experienced. You knew your friends had to be able to hear you, but neither of you cared.

He grabbed both of your arms and used one of his hands to pin them over your head. His other hand went to tighten around your neck. It seemed like he remembered every single part of your conversation earlier in the night. You had never been this dominated in bed and you loved every second of it. You knew he was going to ruin you for anyone else. You could feel your orgasm bubbling in your stomach and he could tell by the way you were squeezing his cock.

He was right about how you would feel and you being so tight. It was way better than any fantasy he had about you over the past few years. You were finally under him, falling apart for him. He would never let you go after this.

“I”m gonna cum.” As much as he wanted to hear those words, he didn’t want it to be over this quickly.

“No baby, hold it. Wait for me.” You looked up at him pleadingly.

“J, I can’t.” He groaned and pulled out of you, flipping you onto your stomach before you could even comprehend what was happening.

“Knees now.” His stern tone came as a surprise but you obeyed. He was back inside of you within seconds. He leaned down to grab you by your hair and you cried out. This new position made it easier for him to completely rail the shit out of you. You were going to be hurting in the morning but that’s what you get for asking for it. “That’s right Y/N, take me. This pussy is mine, got it?” You didn’t say anything right away and his grip on your hair tightened.

“Yes JJ, it’s all yours. I’m all yours.” You loved him being possessive. You could feel his cock start to twitch inside of you, signaling that he was close. This position had him deeper than before and you were going to fall apart any second.

“Fuck, cum with me Y/N.” Right on cue, your walls started pulsating around him sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your whole body. He was filling you up seconds later. You relished in the feeling of him painting your walls with his spend. He placed sweet kisses on your shoulder before pulling out of you and collapsing next to you on the bed. You both needed a few moments to recover from the best sex either one of you ever had.

“Did you mean what you said? That I’m yours.” You asked him and he gave you a smirk.

“If you want to be.” Of course, that’s all you wanted after he gave you the best night of your life.

“Okay, are there any other kinks you’re wanting to try out?” His eyebrows raised, pleased with your words.

“Hmmm, I can think of a couple.” He kissed you, rolling back on top of you. Your night was far from over.

[fruitjoos]

what are you thankful for?

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

contains: the normal angst, mentions of cheating

note: that one holiday special ep where the couple argues for the entire duration and realizes they aren’t as happy with each other as they think lol

You both walked through the door, fresh from dinner at the Donaldsons’. You hated how pretentious that sounded—‘dinner at the Donaldsons’. Worse, you wished you’d thought to turn the heat on before you left. Now the cold air creeping through the drafty windows painfully pricked at your skin.

Patrick let out a frustrated sigh behind you, but you ignored it. The click of your heels rippling on the hardwood as you made your way to the thermostat in the den before heading for the bedroom.

“So, we’re just gonna pretend like everything’s fine?” Patrick called after you, his voice pressing. “Like you didn’t notice it?”

He’d been picking at this since you left dinner, his words distinct the second his seatbelt clicked into place. The drive home had been a gauntlet of accusations—did you remember what he said to you during dinner? Did you even care? It wasn’t that you hadn’t been listening; it was just simply a lot. Too many questions, too much wine, too much of whatever was emerging slowly.

You sighed, unclasping your earrings as you stood by the dresser. “Notice what, Patrick?”

“Dude, don’t do that.” He followed you into the bedroom, standing just inside the doorway, his hands on his hips. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

You caught his reflection in the mirror as you placed your earrings down, his face knotted up, fighting the urge to spill whatever bitterness he was holding.

“I really don’t have the energy for this right now,” you muttered, reaching behind you to unzip your dress.

Patrick scoffed, stepping forward. “Of course you don’t. Convenient, isn’t it? You didn’t have the energy to sit through dinner without staring at Art like he hung the damn moon either.”

Your hands froze on the zipper. “I was not—”

“You were,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “The way you were looking at him. Laughing at his stupid jokes. You don’t even laugh like that with me anymore.”

You turned to face him, dress half unzipped, the tension already fraying your patience. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” His arms crossed, his tone sharper now. “And at the table—when I reached for your hand? You pulled away. What was that about?”

You laugh, almost in disbelief, kicking off your heels. “That's what this is about? I let go of your hand? You’re mad over that?”

“It’s not just that, and you know it.” His voice was much louder now, breaking slightly. “It’s everything. You’re distant, distracted—”

“Oh my God,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you walked toward the bathroom. “You’re such a crybaby. All this over me not holding your hand? Grow up, Patrick.”

“Crybaby?” He followed you, his voice cracking with frustration. “You think this is some game? You think I’m just being dramatic?”

You grabbed your face wash, intentionally avoiding his gaze. “I think you’re looking for a fight, and I’m not giving you one.”

“You already are,” he responded abruptly. “Every time you brush me off like this, every time you act like I’m the problem for noticing—”

“Noticing what?” You whirled around, water dripping from your hands. “That I didn’t laugh at your jokes? That I didn’t hold your hand? God forbid I exist for five minutes without catering to your fragile ego.”

His jaw clenched, his face flushing. “It’s not about my ego. It’s about respect. About the fact that I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, but half the time, I feel like I’m just there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, brushing past him to grab a towel. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

“Am I?” His voice followed you as you moved back to the bedroom, his frustration growing with every step. “Tell me I’m wrong, then. Tell me you weren’t staring at Art tonight like you wished you were with him instead of me.”

You froze, towel twisted in your hands. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Tell me.” He stepped closer, his voice low and insistent.

“Enough, Patrick.” You tossed the towel onto the bed, your movements conscious. “And I’m done with this conversation.”

“Well, I’m not!” he shouted, and the force of it filled the room. “Because this is what you do. Every single time. You brush me off, call me dramatic, and then go on like nothing’s wrong.”

You turned to him, your patience snapping. “What do you want from me? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t perform some perfect version of a girlfriend for you at dinner tonight. Happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy!” His fists closed, his voice bare. “Because it’s not just tonight. It’s everything. I’m here fighting for us and you’re just letting everything slip away.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, his words sinking in. You stared at him, your heart thumping loud inside your chest.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, the fight draining from his posture. “I just want to feel like you still care.”

You didn’t answer, and after a minute, he turned and left the room.

When the door shut behind him, it didn’t slam. But the sound of it carried louder than anything else.

You sank onto the bed, hands trembling as you pressed them to your face. Somewhere in the apartment, a door slammed.

You stayed there, not moving, letting the blaring silence surround you. The fight replayed in your mind, each word as clear as it had been when screamed, each accusation sticking the landing.

You thought it was over. You thought the slammed door was his way of drawing the line, of letting the tension dissipate somewhere else in the apartment. But then you heard his footsteps again, heading back toward the bedroom.

You didn’t look up when he stopped in the doorway.

You slipped your rings off, placing them carefully into the gold bowl on your nightstand.

Patrick lingered, his presence evident as you tugged your sleep mask into place. The room was faint except for the warm radiance of his own bedside lamp.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

You didn’t answer, refusing to rise to the bait.

He let out an angered breath, the tension in him coiling tighter. And then, like a wire snapping under too much pressure, he said, “Maybe I should’ve just slept with Tashi when she asked me to.”

Slowly, you pushed the sleep mask back up, sitting up on your elbows, just enough to meet his gaze. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You heard me.” He crossed his arms, the only readable expression being the bitterness that twisted his mouth. “Maybe I should’ve. At least then, I wouldn’t feel like this—like I’m invisible to the person who’s supposed to care the most.”

Your jaw tightened as you straightened fully. “You’re insane. Trying to make me jealous over something that didn’t even happen? What’s the point, Patrick? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he said, stepping closer, his tone defensive but laced with s bit of vulnerability. “I’m just saying maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m begging for scraps of your attention if I had someone who actually gave a damn.”

You felt his words, the intention behind them, but you refused to let it show. “If you think sleeping with Tashi would’ve solved anything, then maybe you should’ve. Rewrite history if it makes you feel better.”

He let out a sour chuckle. “You don’t even care, do you? You’re sitting here acting like none of this matters, like I’m just making this up.”

“Because you are,” you bit back. “You’re picking a fight over something that didn’t happen, over a feeling you can’t even explain. If cheating would’ve fixed your issues, then maybe the problem isn’t me.”

“Don’t twist this,” he said, his voice cracking at the edges. “You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” You swung your legs off the bed, arms crossed. “That you’re so desperate for attention, you’d throw this in my face just to hurt me? Congratulations. It worked.”

His anger faltered, replaced by regret. “I’m drowning here. And you don’t care. You never care.”

You stood your ground, unwilling to give an inch. “You want me to care? Then stop acting like a child throwing tantrums to get a reaction.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. Instead, he shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Forget it,” he muttered, voice low, almost resigned. He turned, grabbing a pillow from the bed, and walked out.

From the hallway, his voice came again, quieter this time but still carrying desperately. “I don’t know why you do this. You act like nothing I feel matters. Like it’s all just a joke to you.”

You let out a long breath, finally dropping your hands from your face. “Patrick,” you said, softer now, but tired.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He didn’t respond, his silhouette disappearing into the living room as he tossed the pillow onto the couch.

[weepingchronicles]

Could you do a yandere Caitlyn kiramman from arcane x fem reader?

thank you for your request! sorry if this is ooc, i feel that i am not that good at writing for caitlyn but i tried. </3 also!! no s2 spoilers :)

content warnings: controlling and obsessive behavior, little bit of infantilizing, forced drugging, implied kidnapping.

❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Whether you were from Zaun or Piltover treats you with kindness. If you're from Piltover she thinks of you as an equal and might admire you to some degree if you are talented. If you're from the undercity she might have some reservations about you at first but as she gets to know you better she puts those thoughts aside and begins to see you as an equal and friend. For this though let's just assume you both are co-workers!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think Caitlyn is so focused and goal-driven she will have difficulty realizing she likes you more than just a comrade or friend. It will start with longing glances, she spaces out just staring at you without even realizing she is missing orders from her superior. When others ask Cait what she thinks of you, she gets a bit distracted.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"She's an excellent friend and partner. .! I could not imagine anyone else replacing her. I find her very admirable, her strength and her clever nature. The way she holds her gun, when she forgets a loose button on top of her uniform, the way her eyes widen when she-" and on and on and on. . .

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It actually takes someone else to point out her obvious crush on you for her to realize. She is completely flabbergasted and in denial at first, "What! No way- what are you talking about? Yes, she is my friend but also my co-worker! That'd be completely unprofessional!"

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But then she can't stop overanalyzing all her interactions with you. Whenever you enter a room her heart sinks to her stomach. God forbid you actually go beside her, her brain completely malfunctions in a way she has never experienced before. You're just so talented.. and beautiful. No! She just really, really, really admires you. It's not an actual crush..! Right?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn had never really experienced romantic feelings for someone before, she has been so focused on her goals and proving herself she never had the time to. Of course, there was many people offering their hand for her but it was always met with a firm but polite 'no.'

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She hated all the male suitors her parents tried to coerce her into meeting at least, to see if it's a match. To please her parents she would but every single one was awful. They saw her only as an object, a pretty thing to marry and show off as a trophy. A tool for power, not in the least caring for her dreams and aspirations.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But you, you were so different. You were kind and actually cared for her opinions even if she tended to push the boundaries of her actual duties. You never gave up on her even when it felt like the world did.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Welp, she couldn't deny it anymore, she in fact had a big fat crush on you. What to do next? Oh, pretend everything is normal and hopefully it goes away.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But it doesn't. In fact it gets even worse the more she tries to conceal it. Stumbling over words like a blabbering fool as you attempt to talk to her, her co-workers laugh at her making her even more flushed!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It wasn't until one day her obsession with you truly began. It was one of Jinx's ambushes again and there were explosions, it wasn't good. It was very bad. Most of her peers had died unexpectedly, not even getting a chance to fight back. Caitlyn herself got injured but all she could think about was you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It took about an hour of searching the premises before she finally found you, stuck and unconscious under a pile of rubble. You looked bad, it struck a fear in Caitlyn, seeing you like that, she never wished to feel it again. She carried you herself to get some help despite limping and bleeding from her own wounds.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Luckily you got help in immediate time and you came to in a hospital bed, Caitlyn herself passed out in a chair beside you with her head in your lap. You could see the dark bags under her eyes, you figured she must've not been getting enough sleep. Has she been with you the entire time you've been out of commission?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 During your healing process which would be a long while, Caitlyn took a rare deprive from her work, also recovering her lesser injuries. She spent most of her time beside you, making sure you ate, bringing you things to keep you entertained like books, helping you stand to the bathroom for goodness sake. It still couldn't keep her entirely out of her work though, in fact it made her even more determined to find this 'Jinx' and get justice for you and her friends, of course. She was almost obsessed with the case and capturing Jinx, and it all stemmed from her growing protection over you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn struggled to sleep, having nightmares of the explosion and you, your bloody body now mangled and unrealistically morphed into something terrifying. She'd wake up in fright, only to find herself sleeping on your lap with you sleeping sound. She'd brush back your hair, vowing to never let you get hurt like that again.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 All of this came to a climax when you were finally well enough to be released from the hospital. You were a bit rusty but you were antsy to get back to work, you felt so useless being trapped in a hospital bed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn, however, was not ready for you to leave and go back to action. You were still so weak, what if something happens and you aren't able to react quickly enough? What if you die?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Cait could not stand for it and so she pleaded for you to reconsider, just a month or a week more! But you were adamant about heading back, no matter what Caitlyn said. So she gave in but she was not going to let you get hurt under her watch.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She was like a shadow you could never get rid of. Always hovering around you and staring at you with those crystal blue eyes warily, waiting almost so she can step in and help you. Even if you were put in different groups, she'd stray just so she can make sure you're okay. Need some water? Oh, careful there's a rock there! Are you okay? Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You could not handle it anymore, it felt not only suffocating but demeaning with the way she treated and looked at you as though you were glass.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You snapped, yelling at her to leave you alone and that you're an adult, you are capable of defending yourself. After snapping you felt a bit guilty seeing her face. She looked completely shocked and almost like a kicked over puppy, those big blue eyes looking sad now. Caitlyn could only watch in silence as you walked away from her, trying to calm down. And for once, she did not follow.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 A couple days passed with no progress on the Jinx case and it seemed that Cait had finally gotten the hint and left you alone. You felt almost bad, when you were near she'd glance at you and quickly look away as if hurt. You didn't want to stop being friends, just that it was getting to a point of controlling behavior.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You took it upon yourself to visit the Kiramman household, wanting to apologize and become friends again. You did miss her, you both had especially gotten close after spending so much time healing. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much that she didn't trust you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn looked shocked when you showed up on her doorstep but let you in nonetheless, pretending everything was normal. She offered you tea and you agreed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Sitting both down, you finally let it out that you reacted too harshly that day and that you wanted to continue being friends. That you missed her.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Taking a deep exhale after saying all of that, you waited for her reaction. Cait was serene and hard to read, not responding right away instead taking her teacup and sipping on her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "Please have some of your tea, it is imported from Ionia."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You stare at her a bit, is that all she had to say? Not even an acknowledgement or, hell, even a refusal to forgive you? You sigh and drink the tea anyways and she begins to actually speak.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"You see, over the last couple of days, no, months that I have been by your side whilst you heal has made me have a realization." She glances up at you from her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "I love you." All thoughts disappear from your head the moment those words are uttered, so calmly as well. "And when you love something, you protect it. Your outburst at me the other day made me truly realize this, what you're doing to yourself- it's a cry for help. You are not fit to be an enforcer, it is too dangerous and with Jinx still out there.. I am afraid I can't let you leave again." Wait, what?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Just as she finishes speaking your vision begins to spin. You start seeing two Caitlyn's instead of one, the teacup in your hands wobbles and breaks in shards on the ground. Caitlyn tuts and stands up, grabbing your shoulders gently and laying you back down onto the couch before you could fall.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "There we go. I'm sorry it had to be this way but don't worry, I will find Jinx and make her pay for doing this to you. Just rest, my dear."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Even then, Caitlyn stays by your side while gently caressing your cheek. Your vision fades and you fall asleep.

a/n: guys.. i may have went a bit overboard with writing this but it was more fun that i had thought! i hope i did yan caitlyn justice! <3 also this is kind of foreshadowing a little bit of s2 cait?? but in a alternative universe. also see how caitlyn's suitors just thought of her as an object and now she is doing the same thing to reader unintentionally.. parallels!!

[idkjustlemmedrownlikerab]

Why Regulus dying was crucial to the plot of Art Heist Baby!

It really pisses me off and people say "Omg it's so sad that Regulus never finished the heist, why did the author have to kill him?! He never finished his life's purpose" No it's not,  because that wasn't what he wanted in life, he achieved everything that he wanted.

The story doesn't work if Regulus lives. Art Heist Baby isn't about the heist. I mean it kind of is, that was what drew me into the fanfic, why I read it. But, as I read it, I realized that it's not about the heist, it's about love, it's a love letter from @otrtbs, the author, to art history and to the fandom, and about the love of found family, brothers reuniting, and falling in love and all the sappy stuff.

But Regulus and the readers by extension, have always thought that it's about the heist, that it's about the infamy and being remembered, and that's how he lives forever, the heist gets him his brother back, the heist lets him live forever.

But then in Copenhagen, when he's literally dying, he's having this internal monologue, like, maybe I failed this heist and it's not successful and I didn't do what I wanted and I wasn't the best person, but I was loved,  I am loved and I have loved back, he says that he knows he can take that love with him wherever he goes, even if he's a damn star in the sky, it doesn't matter. He's taking that love with him, it lives on, and that is its own form of immortality. That's what Regulus had been searching for this entire time and even after Regulus dies, James is still there, and Sirius and Barty and Evan hell all the others in the team, and it's like even death can't defeat that kind of love. We see James talking to Regulus every night and recounting memories and keeping Regulus alive in a way, which is what Regulus always wanted!!!! Just not in the way he thought he was going to get it.

I mean, otherwise what's the alternative? Regulus lives and he's happy with James, and maybe that's better than living on an infamy and better than the heist because, well, he's actually alive, but it's not just about love. Regulus and by extension, the reader wouldn't have this moment of realisation like, oh, it's love, love is the answer. Love is what makes all of us a little bit immortal for a little while. That's what it's all about in the end. Not the money or fame or notoriety. Just love. And Regulus dying feels like it was the best way Nat could have driven that point home. Like plz look past the heist, what else is there?

Because Regulus spent his whole life thinking that this was his goal. Just one more heist, that's what he'd always said right? One more heist, this is the last one. This is it. He'll have achieved everything he's ever wanted. Except, it's not what he wanted. Because throughout the story, he gets his brother back, he gets Sirius back in his life after spending years in silent mourning dangling just as precariously as the daunting Degas in the bathroom, he gets his brother back. He sees Barty and Evan who have spent their whole life going back and forth, finally getting together. He watches them grow up and grow together, and he spends his entire life with them. He brings together this group of strangers, this ragtag team of random people that applied via a fucking poster about a lucrative job and watches them bond. He watches relationships form, he connects with the Remus through annotations and books and a shared love for Sirius, he organizes dorlene's proposal and wedding!!!!

He bonds with all these people that he never would have met if he led a normal life, and then he meets James. He meets James Potter, who teaches him everything, who lets him borrow his bravery and shows him that life could be so much more if he wanted it to be, which he does.

"I love you, that's all." His last words, love, that's all. Not the heist, not the drop offs, not the money or the fame or the glory. Love, that's all. He started getting involved with the heists to feel loved, to get the attention that Sirius got from their parents growing up. Some superficial kind of love, and his life ends after he gets real love, platonic and romantic. Love, that's all, not the heist. He died with everything he knew he always wanted but never had the bravery to attain until then. That's why he said maybe he hadn't lived a long life but he lived the best life he could have.

Nat literally told us the reason with Regulus' last words and all of us decided to turn a blind eye to it, yes, yes ik it was heartbreaking to see him die and not live in the house in Brazil with James but we do see them meet again in the epilogue don't we? And let's trust Regulus and the author both when they said

"in every lifetime?"

"in every one."

[hiraethwa]

how to kill a god

two from <the collection — how to kill a god>

pairing. gojo satoru x reader

cw. special grade sorcerer!reader, non-canon lore!, coma, ANGST, post hidden inventory arc

wc. 3.3k

come home. come back to me.

gojo satoru thought he knew loneliness. isolation. 

a dry laugh escapes his lips at his predicament—the aftermath of one fushiguro toji. 

his best friend, razed down an entire village, took his own parents' lives, on the run. him, appointed executioner by the jujutsu higher up’s because there was no one else who could kill geto suguru.

no one else out of the four—now three remaining special grade sorcerers available, anyway. yuki tsukumo never heeded any of their demands, so that left gojo and you. 

you still laying unmoving on the sick bed before him. a coma, shoko had told him, for reasons unknown even to the gifted healer. 

a year. it has been more than a year since their failure to protect the star plasma ves—amanai. 

he wonders which would have been worse—this, or if you had been on the mission with him and suguru. wonders if things would have been different, ended differently.

gojo glances at your pale lips, your serene expression that is frozen in time, as if you had welcomed death with open arms. he supposes you always had a foot in the after realm after his clan took you in. 

no, you would have taken that blade, cursed or not, in his place. it’s by a miracle, or a mistake, that the killing blow was with a normal blade, not a cursed one. if it had been cursed… not even him, the strongest sorcerer of modern history could have made it back.

he hates that—you accepting that your life is dispensable compared to his. you had always been stubborn, needlessly infuriating, even when you came back as a transfer student after being sent away for two whole years because of that incident, a whole different person.

gojo had no idea what they did to you to extinguish the fire smoldering in your eyes, and you had refused to talk about it. everytime he tried to broach the subject, you would shut down completely. even the embers that suguru coaxed out of you would stutter and die out.

but the way you still managed to get under his skin, crack his mask with your jabs and meanness after all you have been through—he hates that too. 

“i am sorry i didn’t visit you until now.” 

he is a coward. 

for not visiting you sooner, leaving only suguru and shoko to stay by your bedside, checking on your condition. each time he dredged up his courage to stop by the sickbay, he stood frozen in the doorway, his feet resisting from taking any further steps towards you, lifeless and calm as though you laid in a coffin.

his six eyes told him all he needed to know about your condition, your cursed energy levels barely registering on his senses. he did not deserve to see you after everything that had happened.

it was his fault. his fault for being arrogant, for overestimating himself, for not being strong enough to defeat fushiguro when they first fought.

the fear stayed with him—the fear that struck deep in his soul when your soul wrenching scream echoed down your twisted bond as fushiguro dragged that blade up through his torso and stabbed him through the head. 

he had been unafraid, even as death stared him in the face. except, he did not expect you to be there—you were supposed to be on your own mission. 

but the thought of you dying, it made his blood run cold. suspended in the space between life and death as he used reverse cursed technique to heal himself, his consciousness had felt the bond stretch so thin that he realized what was feeling for the first time—fear. 

faster, he urged his healing that was slowly knitting the mess of his brain matter back in place. faster. 

he found you in a pool of your own blood, not that far from the crater he laid dead on, unresponsive with shallow breaths, and ran, with you in his arms to shoko, as his newly mended injuries stretched and groaned in soreness. as his non-life-threatening wounds continued to knit itself closed. 

gojo ran, as though his life depended on it. 

had all but dropped you into shoko’s arms, not even hearing her worried calls after him to assess the extent of his injuries, knowing that if anyone could save you, it was shoko, before he descended into bloodlust. 

gojo had emerged from that fight as the winner, but the damage was done—fushiguro toji had taught gojo satoru to fear. suguru, too. 

they had coped with the fallout in their own ways, but suguru—

suguru never really recovered from it, and gojo’s own fixation on becoming stronger, his resolve for history to not repeat itself, had blinded him to his best friend’s struggle.

he should have known. he should have known that the ever-deepening bags under suguru’s eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks and his figure, symptoms that suguru had attributed to the summer heat were signs of ptsd. 

you would have known. if not for him, you would not be in this state. if not for him, you would have helped suguru heal from their traumatic mission. if not for him, suguru would have had his girlfriend’s support and care, and not committed the atrocities that he did. 

if he had taken some time to actually check on suguru—

his heart stutters as your finger twitches. was that real? 

“can you hear me?” his breath hitches, lodges itself in his throat as he waits for another movement. anything.

he itches to touch you just to make sure you are real, reaching out to check that you are here with him, but stops short just as he remembers the distaste you had for skin-to-skin contact. 

so gojo drops his hand, sitting next to you silently while hoping for another sign that you are still in there, occupying the seat that used to be suguru’s on the third day since the village massacre. 

nothing. he exhales shakily. it was his imagination fooling him after all.

gojo satoru had lost his heart. he couldn’t lose his soul too. 

gojo visited you more regularly after suguru defected, or at least he tried to. 

between missions and classes and other things that needed his attention, he would be lucky if he had thirty quiet minutes with you before he was being called away again.

each time he stops by, he talks to you about how his recent mission went, how absurd the class yaga is making him take is, how he misses you and suguru, half hoping he could wake you up by annoying you with all the talking he is doing for two. 

each time he has to go, he makes sure the blanket is covering your still body properly, careful that he doesn’t accidentally touch your skin lest your eyes fly open in disgust to yell at him. actually, that would be preferable over you laying so peacefully as if you had not a care left in this world—as if you were ready to go. 

he would not accept that. no, he would rip apart the endless fabric of the universe with purple to get you back. 

his shadow, who had suffered too much, too young, all in his name. 

you deserved to live, and to be happy. for a while, you were. 

suguru made you happy. suguru, with his savior tendencies, had taken you in and nursed you back to crackling embers despite your complaints.

the unspoken thing between him and suguru had been forgotten and left untouched when you showed up, a curve ball in their lives. 

it had been sometime halfway through their first year when you were dropped off at jujutsu high’s doorstep with nothing but the clothes on your back. 

your hair, once a bob like shoko’s, had been chopped off to his length. your demeanor and appearance so vastly different from the last time he had laid his eyes on you that he had almost mistaken you for someone else entirely if not for his six eyes.

he had stared at you in disbelief as you walked into class, taking a seat next to shoko without so much as a glance at him. everything that was taught in class that day flew right over his head with you occupying his mind, glances thrown your way so every often as he pretended to listen to whatever yaga was saying. 

as if his six eyes could see through shoko to you.

gojo had waited, though impatiently, for classes to end before catching up to your quick exit from the classroom the moment class was dismissed. his hand grabbing your wrist before his brain could catch up to him. 

your eyes, once living flames themselves, was reduced to nothing more than glowing coals. his shadow, who had always been more fire than girl—what had they done to you because of his thoughtless actions?

gojo’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, grasping at straws of things he should say to you. i’m sorry takes the first place of all the possible things he could—should open the first conversation with you in over two years with. 

“let me go.” your golden eyes stared at him in disdain. 

“i’m—” 

you cut him off irritatedly, “i don’t care, satoru. don’t fucking touch me.”

he retracted his hand immediately. you hate him. he deserved it after everything you had been through—but it shocked him more than hurt him that you said that with so much spite. 

spite that had never been directed towards him, never present in your endless mockery and taunts throughout the years. 

and then you were gone. geto sauntered over to him, amused at the sight of gojo being put in his place by their new classmate, even more so that you knew him. 

“satoru, huh? you know her or something?”

gojo merely scrunched his nose at his friend in faux annoyance. “just someone i knew before high school. someone i owe.” 

geto waited for some sort of explanation, but gojo did not seem inclined to talk about it, walking ahead to the gym. he knew satoru well enough by now to know that it wasn’t nothing. that it was a matter that weighed heavy on his soul. 

that underneath all his cheerfulness and wildness lives a boy who cared far too much. 

he softened, looking at the white-haired boy who he had a weak spot for, “do you want me to talk to her for you?” 

gojo shrugged, looking back at his friend, “do whatever you want to. she doesn’t care for fake kindness or concern.” he half expected him to leave it at that.

not whatever that you two had become. 

he should have known that suguru always gravitated towards the broken ones—being one of them himself, he should have known. his moral compass and savior complex compelling him to do something; to save you, even if it’s from yourself.

geto had pushed and prodded you relentlessly until you let him in. the embers sparked to life in your golden eyes, a living proof of his warmth and kindness.

gojo saw that, the changes in you that are painfully obvious in his—geto’s presence, so he let his heart go without so much a protest.

he made an unspoken promise to you then—geto suguru was yours if you wanted. you deserved to be happy, even at the cost of his heart. even if geto suguru was his before you.  

gojo satoru had not regretted it then. he does not regret it now, as he gazes at you fondly. his personal spitfire. 

it is time to say his goodbyes again, having stopped by after he returned from his mission. he has to leave early tomorrow for another one again since geto’s share of missions fell upon his shoulders. 

“you were such a wretched girl, burning anyone who is careless in getting too close to you, and yet suguru thought otherwise.” he chuckles at his memory, pulling the blanket over you the way you like it. geto had smiled so warmly while telling gojo how you loved to pull the blankets all the way up to your chin.

he pushes a stray piece of hair out of your face absentmindedly, his hand brushing against your cheek on accident. 

cold, your skin feels so cold to his touch. he realizes that a second too late—that he was touching you. 

gojo stills as his six eyes register a fluctuation from you. his cursed energy flows from where his fingers rest on your cheekbone, disappearing into your skin. 

you are absorbing his cursed energy. 

he thinks he sees pink bloom in your skin, your sickly pallor improving almost instantaneously, imperceptibly in his eyes. he stares in disbelief as your body greedily drinks his cursed energy. 

revelation hits him like a freight train.

oh gods, were they all idiots? your cursed energy never replenished after the incident, almost nonexistent on his radar. could it be that you were unable to regenerate your own cursed energy, needing a jumpstart like a car battery? 

“shoko!” gojo shouts for his friend, careful not to break the skin contact between you just in case it doesn’t work again. “shoko, get your ass over here!”

“slow your roll, gojo,” she calls from her computer, still typing away at the stupid keyboard.

“shoko,” he warns, “it’s important, get over here!”

she sighs, reluctantly walking over to your bed, not wanting to get her hopes up just to have them dashed again. “what’s so urgent that i can’t—”

your eyes fly open, unfocused. it startles gojo so hard that he almost jumped away from you. only his sense of self preservation kept him rooted to the ground—and his skin rooted to yours.

“i fucking told you,” he hisses quietly, as though you could hear them. 

shoko gets to work immediately, fishing out her pen light and reaching for your eyes. “well, what are you doing? get off her.”

“i can’t, can’t you just do it with me in the way?” shoko thinks this is one of the few times she could use the term helpless to describe gojo satoru, sighing again at his odd behavior and doing as he asks anyway.

“there’s no reaction, gojo. she’s not waking up, as much as both of us wish it.” 

stubborn to a fault, gojo insists, “but she opened her eyes.” 

“it could be nothing more than a random muscle reflex.” it’s a hard pill to swallow. as a doctor, she knows the facts and the chances, although she cannot help but hope for it to be a sign of you leaving the deep coma you are in. 

she still doesn’t want to get gojo’s hopes up in case it isn’t. 

“her color looks better too, does it not?” 

“satoru—” she calls his name softly, hoping to let him down gently. 

“she’s taking my cursed energy, ieiri. tell me honestly, does she look more healthy than before?”

gojo waits, fingers still touching your skin for shoko’s verdict. “she does, but—”

“why is she in a coma?” 

“i don’t know, gojo. you have asked me that question so many times i lost track of the count. don’t you think i want my friend to wake up too?”

“then hear me out. did you ever notice anything wrong with her cursed energy?”

“you know i can’t measure that.” she throws her hands out in frustration. 

“she’s as close to zero as fushiguro toji was. or she was. it’s growing by the minute as she absorbs more from me.”

“don’t be absurd. if she was absorbing cursed energy through skin contact, we would have known. geto used to hold her hand for hours, he would have felt it.”

“what if it’s just me?” 

gojo does not know if you ever told geto about your innate ability to absorb cursed energy from humans through skin contact. shoko has no knowledge of it at the very least. 

he had helped you keep it a secret from the world—your ability that would have earned you an immediate death sentence the moment the higher ups learnt of it. and somehow, in the wake of everything that had happened, it slipped his mind.

he is an idiot, the world’s biggest one.

“she’s my shadow, so what if it’s just me?” he knows you could absorb cursed energy from anyone, but you had learnt to switch your innate ability off at will years ago. as far as he is concerned, you had not absorbed cursed energy from anyone in years. 

he wonders if you’re unconsciously willing it so, or if you only felt safe enough to take from him even in your deep sleep like trance. or if you are so weakened that his cursed energy was the easiest for you to consume. 

—if all the legends were true.

gojo always had his doubts but… it would help explain why you only absorbed his cursed energy, if you were truly born as a pair. it would make sense why his cursed energy is the most compatible for your weak body to absorb. 

it would also mean that you are meant to sacrifice your life for his. 

he still rejects that, refuses to accept it—but if it meant he could save you, if you would wake up, then—

then he would cross that bridge when it comes to it, forbid you from saving him or something. his word has to count for something, right?

“alright, suppose she’s absorbing your cursed energy. what are you suggesting? that she needs cursed energy to wake up?”

“yeah, simple as that. occam’s razor, right?”

“i don’t know if that’s how occam—” shoko stops herself at the hope surfacing in his eyes. “fine, what do we have to lose? i guess you could stay there for another hour and see if it works.”

gojo grins back at her, a genuine smile stretching from ear to ear, hopeful at the possibility of you waking up soon, settling into the uncomfortable plastic chair by the bed—the same one that she used to find geto asleep in, body folded into a position that cannot be comfortable. 

“don’t stay too long. you need to get some sleep too. don’t you have another mission tomorrow?” she reminds him as she takes leave for the night, her words falling on deaf ears. 

shoko knows that shared stubbornness well, it’s a language all of you are well versed in; knows gojo well enough to know that it is more likely than not for her to find him in the same position tomorrow. ah, well, whatever suits him.

and sure enough, he was still there in the morning when she got to the infirmary. 

his head of snow white hair almost blends in with the white of the bedsheets, having fallen asleep on his arms against you with his hand in yours. even in his sleep, he is holding onto your hand securely, as if he is afraid of you slipping away through his fingers again.

“gojo, wake up. yaga is looking for you.” she nudges his shoulder gently so as to not startle him. she would much rather not deal with a hollow purple today.

he shifts in his sleep, a frown etched onto his features, a soft whine escaping his partly open lips. “gojooo,” she pokes him.

gojo tightens his hold on you as he blinks his eyes open, rubbing the sleep from them. and just ever so slightly, he feels a twitch on his hand. 

“s–shoko? did you–” he stumbles through his words, disbelief holding him hostage. and hope, hope that he hasn’t dared to firmly hold onto soars through him. 

your fingers twitch again, flexing as if to test out muscles that haven’t been in use for a year. flexes and clutches onto his hand softly with all the strength in your frail body. 

i’m here, satoru. 

shoko’s lab coat swishes with a flurry of movements, her actions gone unnoticed by him, as his vision becomes blurry. tears flood his eyes, tears he doesn’t remember shedding in a very long time. 

and finally, shoko speaks up, wonder and incredulity thick in her voice, “i think she’s waking up.”

a/n. nyahhhhh, mixed feelings about this one, but i can't wait to write her waking up :3

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if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

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[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 4 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

A/N: You know what would be cool? If you left a comment :) Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: mentions of trauma/injury

“Alright, speed-round: if you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?” Bobby asks as he cooks breakfast.

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, nursing your second cup of coffee. Everyone’s shift started two and a half hours ago, right at 5 am. There hasn’t been a call for the 118 yet, so Bobby’s taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Fighter pilot: Topgun. Call sign: shogun,” Chim answers as he digs into his omelet.

Hen laughs.

“What about you, Hen?” You smile.

“Editorial cartoonist, The New Yorker. I have a lot to say,” she says as she sits down.

You raise your eyebrows as the men share a look.

“You draw?” Bobby asks, surprised.

“No, it's a dream. It's not supposed to be attainable,” Hen argues. She looks at you. “What would you be?”

“You know, ever since I was a kid, I loved helicopters,” you remark. “During paramedic training, I learned about flight nursing and thought that was super cool. I guess I would be a flight nurse.”

You go back to drinking your coffee, but everyone stays silent. You look up to find them staring at you.

You chuckle in confusion. “What?”

“Girl, you could go do that now if you wanted to,” Hen says.

“I can’t just decide to be a nurse,” you argue.

“You could go be a flight paramedic if you wanted to,” Bobby says. “And since you’re an advanced paramedic, you can become a nurse in like, half the normal time.”

You frown. “Seriously?”

He nods. “There are a lot of paramedic-to-RN bridge programs out there. California prefers nurses with bachelor’s degrees, but you could get your associate’s degree and go from there. You might need some hospital experience to beef up your resume, but otherwise, you’d be a shoo-in.”

Chim looks at Bobby in disbelief. “Why would you tell her all of that?”

He laughs. “What?”

“You’re gonna make her leave!” Hen exclaims. She sets her head on your shoulder. “We don’t want her to leave—we love her.”

You smile and pat Hen’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving. I love what I do right now, and I love the people I do it with. That’s why it’s just a dream.”

It’s true: you love what you do… most of the time. When you don’t love it, you really fucking hate it. But that’s anywhere. You should just count your blessings, cut your losses, or whatever the expression is.

Buck joins you all, grabbing an apple from the bowl between you and Hen.

“Buckaroo, If you were not a member of the LAFD, what would you be doing?” Chim asks.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Buck frowns as he sits beside you. “I’m not getting fired, am I?”

Bobby gives him a look of contemplation that makes you snort.

Chim casually takes another bite. “That’s inevitable.”

“He’d be a golden retriever,” Hen chimes in.

“No, a bartender,” Chim says. “No, no, a bouncer at a bar.”

“A bouncer at a strip club,” you correct him.

Chim and Hen high-five each other, then you. You turn to your side. Buck has a small smile on his face, but you can tell something is eating at him.

“What’s going on, Pretty Boy?” you ask. When he meets your gaze, you offer (what you hope is) an encouraging smile.

“Traffic sucks in this town unless you're driving ten tons of engine with sirens,” Buck says. “It took me almost two hours to get from my place to the call center downtown, then back over here. I told Maddie she needs to start Ubering.”

You frown at the mention of ‘Maddie,’ a name you haven’t heard before. Does Buck have a girlfriend? And they’re already living together? Something about that doesn’t sit right with you. It feels like a piece of lead took residence in your stomach, and the space between your lungs and ribs got slightly smaller.

“Maddie?” You ask, trying to sound neutral.

“My sister,” Buck clarifies.

The lead in your stomach evaporates. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister. She’s living with you?”

“For now, until she finds a place of her own,” Buck nods.

You nod as well. “How are things going?”

“Well, she’s a Buckley, so she’s practically running the place,” Buck says.

Bobby offers him a plate, which he accepts. He stands up to go to the table, and on his way over, he pats your shoulder twice. When he’s out of sight, Hen cocks her head and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You ask her, deadpan.

“‘Maddie’?” she repeats, mocking how you said her name.

“It was a question.”

“You sounded like a jealous girlfriend,” Hen laughs.

“I’m not jealous, and I’m definitely not his girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t be,” Hen says in a sing-song voice as she stands.

“Yeah, you better run,” you threaten playfully as she approaches the table.

She flips you the bird, and you laugh loudly.

The first call of the shift is to a building affected by an earthquake. It sounds like the scene already has plenty of paramedics, so for the first time in a long time, you’re in firefighter gear and will be helping pull victims from the site. It’s not your favorite thing to do all the time—that’s what the rescue team is for. Every once in a while isn’t bad, though. It gets your blood pumping like paramedicine does; you only tend to use your muscles more than your brain. It’s also fun to sit in an engine instead of the rig for a change.

Eddie is next to you, and since getting on, he hasn’t looked up from his phone. His brow is furrowed, and his forehead is already shining with sweat.

You lean over, knowing you’ll still have to yell for him to hear you over the engine and sirens. “Everything okay?”

He looks at you, then back at his phone. “Yeah, no service. Texts won’t even get through.”

He’s pissed, and you have no clue why.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Who are you trying to get a hold of?”

Eddie stares at you momentarily, then looks around the engine at the other passengers.

“My son,” he eventually explains. “I’m trying to reach my son.”

“Woah, you got a kid?!” Buck exclaims.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, pulling up a picture on his phone. He shows you, then Buck. “He’s seven.”

“He looks like a sweet kid,” you say.

“Yeah, he’s super adorable,” Buck agrees. “I uh, I love kids.”

“I love this one,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s not in the picture.”

“He’s at school right now?” You ask, tilting your head.

Eddie nods.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you say, patting his knee reassuringly.

Eddie glances from your hand to your face. He nods slightly and gives you a closed-mouth smile. He wants to believe you, but his parental instincts tell him not to. You get it. No one but Chris can quell that anxiety.

You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window.

The damaged building is one of the craziest things you’ve seen in a long time. It’s on the corner, leaning out over the street below. All of the buildings around it look fine on the outside. It truly looks like something from an apocalyptic movie.

“You guys ever deal with anything like this before?” Eddie asks once you’re all standing on the sidewalk.

Bobby shakes his head, still staring up at the building. “Nope.”

A cop is escorting a couple down the sidewalk. They’re fighting her to go back.

“You have to let me back in there, my baby is in there!” The woman screams.

“Please, our daughter is still inside!” The man protests as an officer pushes him back. “She’s eight years old! Her name is Kat!”

Your stomach is in knots. This is why you don’t like working rescue. As a paramedic, you don’t know what you’re walking into. When you work search and rescue, you know what you’ll find; you just might not like it.

You follow your team as Bobby looks for the Incident Commander. You begin walking through a makeshift medical bay, and you can see that they’ve already implemented disaster protocol triage. Each patient is wearing a tag with their assigned triage color. Green means stable, yellow means a serious injury but not an emergency, red means an immediate threat to life, and black indicates death or injuries incompatible with life. You mostly see green and yellow, which is a good sign.

You overhear some of what Chief Williams, the Incident Commander, and Bobby are discussing. Essentially, the building is on a fault line, and the only thing keeping it upright is some steel, so one aftershock and the whole thing could come down.

Bobby faces you all. “Okay, listen up: Here's how you make it to the end of the day. You don't worry about the things that you can't do anything about. Focus on one task at a time. I can't order you guys to go inside that building, and I'm not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

“Where do you want us?” Is the first thing Eddie asks.

Bobby is pulled to help with triage, while Chim and Hen see a woman on the 11th floor needing rescue. This left you with Eddie and Buck by default, who are tasked with sweeping the ground floor in search of any survivors or rescue teams that may need additional assistance.

You find some bodies that you leave black tags on and spray paint an ‘x’ on a landmark near them. You aren’t entirely sure you believe in god, but just in case, you also send a prayer.

“How does it feel to be in on the action for once?” Buck asks with a grin. “Ya know, instead of standing outside waiting like you normally do.”

“So far? I’m not loving it,” you retort, ducking under a massive piece of concrete.

A firefighter from a different crew approaches you, a victim in tow.

“Need any help?” Eddie asks.

“All good,” The firefighter replies. “There’s a kid maybe 50 feet back, he needs EMTs. Bad.”

“Is it a little girl?” you ask, thinking of Kat. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you want the answer to be.

“No, an African American teenager,” he clarifies.

“Fire and Rescue, hello?!” Buck shouts.

“Right here!” A voice shouts back. “Thank god, man, he’s stuck!”

The three of you have to crawl across a beam to get to him. You’re the last one to make it across, and Buck hands you your bag once you do. You give him a single nod, which he returns.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” You ask with a smile as you approach the victim.

A man is holding one of his hands, and the other is cradling his head. He doesn’t appear to be his father, but you can tell they know each other somehow. You can see why: his injury is brutal. His left leg is trapped under a massive concrete support beam, one that normally goes from the ceiling to the floor.

“Jeff,” he answers shakily.

“You already try and move some debris, see if you can pull him free?” Eddie asks as he gets a set of vitals.

“The second we touched the beam, everything above started shifting,” the man responds.

Buck stares up. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. It looks like this debris is holding up this section of the ceiling. If we try to pull it out of the way, this whole area could cave in.”

“My friend Eddie and I are gonna stablize your neck, okay Jeff?” You say as you get the c-collar out of your pack.

Eddie holds C-spine as you slide the collar around Jeff’s neck.

“I-I can’t move it, coach,” Jeff says. “How bad is it?”

“Hey, bones heal, alright?” His coach replies.

“Sir, this firefighter is gonna lead you out of here,” Buck interrupts.

“No, screw that, I’m staying, alright? This kid is a son to me.”

“Okay, we need to focus all of our attention on Jeff right now. We can't be worried about your safety, too,” Buck insists. “Now go.”

A sense of pride swells in your heart. Buck is taking charge of the situation, similar to how Bobby would. Sometimes, you can hardly believe this is the same guy who got fired for not respecting the job.

Buck approaches you. “What’ve we got?”

“Crushed tibia and fibula,” you answer. “Looks like it missed any major arteries.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what do you think?”

Both Buck and Eddie begin talking. They frown and glance at each other, then at you.

Your cheeks burn a little. “Um, Buck is Pretty Boy.”

Buck gives a little shit-eating grin.

“Huh, sounds like there’s a story there,” Eddie notes.

The three of you are standing in a small circle, out of earshot from Jeff. You’re trying to decide what the next step is, and the boys have considered every option… except yours.

“What if we try chipping away at the debris, try to make headway,” Eddie suggests.

“Are you crazy? The entire goddamn building could come crashing down us,” you argue. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. There’s one option: we get a trauma surgeon in here, and Jeff loses his leg instead of his life.”

“Basketball is his life,” Buck says. His arms are folded across his chest, and he sways back and forth a little as he thinks.

“Yeah, Well, it isn’t just his life at stake,” you retort. “We’re here too, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to die so a kid can play with a ball. That’s also assuming, by the way, that his leg is even salvageable when all is said and done. And it might not be.”

“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Eddie shrugged. “We have to at least try, right?”

“Okay, I know you boys are super into the whole ‘badass, lifesaving, run-into-danger’ firefighter thing, but we have to be realistic. This isn’t just Jeff we’re talking about. Hell, this isn’t just about the four of us. It’s about everyone above us, too: Hen, Chim, and god knows how many other firefighters and survivors. Risking all of their lives for one person isn’t heroic—it’s stupid.”

“What about an airbag?” Buck says to Eddie. “We shore up this pocket we're in. get an air bag to lift up the beam that’s pinning him down.”

Eddie nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that could work.”

You tap your mouth like it’s a microphone. “Is this thing on?”

Buck sighs. “Look, we can’t just—”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jeff interrupts your conversation. “Shouldn’t I get a vote?”

You look at Jeff, then back at your coworkers. Without saying anything, you all move back over to Jeff, surrounding him in a formation similar to before.

“Jeff, what do you want to to do?” You ask, gently taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand. “I may be able to live without my leg, but I don’t know if I can live knowing I could have saved it, but didn’t.”

You smile and nod. You look to Buck and Eddie. “Then we try the airbags.”

“Alright, Jeff, you ready?” Buck asks.

Buck is at Jeff’s shoulders, Eddie is at his hip, and you’re crouched at his feet. Buck and Eddie will move Jeff once the airbag deploys, and it’s your job to make sure he’s clear.

Jeff nods. “Yeah, but if things go wrong, leave me and save yourselves. This is my choice to try this.”

“Eh, I kind of like you, so now you’re stuck with me,” you joke. You get at least a chuckle out of everyone. “All four of us are getting out of here.”

“That’s right,” Eddie agrees, “with all 8 legs.”

Buck leans in a little closer to Jeff. “Now, Jeff, she gave you some morphine, but once we move you, it’s gonna hurt like hell. You ready?”

Jeff agrees, quietly at first but then loudly. “Yeah. Yeah, Yeah. Yeah, come on, we’re the champs.”

You smile and can almost taste how bittersweet the expression is. Buck and Eddie quickly catch on and begin agreeing.

“Yeah, we’re the champions!” Buck shouts.

“We got this! Yeah, we got this!” Eddie yells.

Eventually, the three of them just yell in similar octaves. They sound like a bunch of little boys excited to play a game. You have to blink a few times, holding back tears.

Buck counts down, then turns a nozzle to deploy the airbag. You can hear some cracking sounds but feel no slack on Jeff’s leg.

“Anything?!” Buck shouts.

“A little more!” Eddie shouts back.

Debris begins to fall on your shoulders, and you can feel the surface below you shaking.

“Come, come on, come on—”

Jeff’s leg is suddenly free enough, and you and Eddie pull him to the side.

In seconds, the three of you have him on the backboard, splinted, and ready for transport. Each of you is singing your praises to Jeff, encouraging him, and assuring him he did a good job. The boys get him onto the platform your team crawled in on. The boys are doing the heavy lifting, so you let them go first.

As you start to slide across the beam, you catch something in the corner of your eye. It’s a pink and purple sneaker, likely a child’s.

“Kat?” you shout, digging for your flashlight. “Kat?!”

After getting Jeff out, you confirm that Kat was wearing pink and purple shoes, which means she’s stuck somewhere in the building. The three of you return to the building with additional firefighters, all calling out Kat’s name.

An aftershock begins. Everything around you begins shaking, and you can feel the ground start to give. It makes your stomach do a few backflips. There’s a massive shift below you, and before you even realize it’s happening, you’re falling between two segments. For a moment, you hear Eddie and Buck call your name. Then, all you can hear is the world falling on top of you.

Eventually, everything becomes still. You reach for your radio, trying to get unpinned from whatever came crashing down on you. “Buck?! Eddie?!”

You can’t explain it, but you can feel you’re in a different spot. The air didn’t just get colder; it’s like the actual pressure of the atmosphere shifted.

You find there’s some slack above your legs, so you begin kicking. “Is anyone down here?!”

“Hey,” a gravely voice calls out.

You grunt a few times as you pry and pull yourself from the rubble. When you break free, you see a trapped firefighter a few feet away. His legs are completely obstructed, and he’s pressed flat on his back.

“Hey, 221, right?” you say, opening your medi bag. “We ran into some of your boys earlier. I’m 118.”

“Russ, 221,” he confirms.

“Russ, where’s your radio?” You ask as you look around. “Mine’s toast.”

“I don’t have one,” he rasps out, “all radios were issued out. It’s not my shift?”

You feel a pull on your heartstrings. “ Oh my god, you came in on your day off, Russ?”

“Eh, I had nothing better to do,” He jokes with a weak laugh.

You begin looking around and think of various ways to free Russ. You first try pushing the debris away, which proves unsuccessful. You then try pulling Russ out, and when that doesn’t work, you try using your fire axe as a jack.

“There’s gotta be an actual jack in one of these cars,” you say, swinging your head around as you try to locate the nearest vehicle.

“Don’t waste your strength or your time,” Russ protests.

“Enough of that, Russ,” you gently scold. “We’re both getting out of here, okay?”

“I’m not. Fractured pelvis, flail chest... Even I couldn't save me, and... you don't know me, but I'm good.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I’m better,” You argue, finding a nearby car door. You open it. “Hang in there.”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Russ coughs. You rush to his side, and it looks like he’s spitting up blood. “Help's not coming. Not in time, anyway. So, please, my kit. The morphine. Give me a bolus.” He coughs and moans a little. “Oh, make it three.”

“I'll give you one, just to keep you comfortable, but we're not giving up, okay?” You say as you begin rifling through your bag.

“Are you married?” Russ asks.

You shake your head. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Well, I was,” Russ explains. “She was always worrying that I wouldn't... make it back home to see her. Decided maybe it's better if I just stopped coming home altogether. I think maybe she was... onto something.”

You’re drawing up the last little bit of morphine when Russ goes quiet. You drop the syringe and shake his shoulders. “Russ?! Russ!”

You put your fingers to his neck, but you know you aren’t going to find a pulse. His eyes are already glazed over, his face totally relaxed.

You throw the syringe of morphine as hard as you can, curling up into a ball. “Dammit.”

You stay like that for a while, probably longer than you should. A few silent tears stream down your face. You eventually wipe away your tears, close Russ’s eyes, and continue forward.

You go for as long as you can, but the air gets so thin that it becomes hard to breathe. At some point, you stumble to your feet, leaning back against some rubble behind you. You take in a few deep breaths, and you exhale them as sobs.

Wiping at your eyes again, you reach for your phone. It’s something you never wanted to do, but it feels like the right decision. When you find your phone, you click into the voice memo app.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say, letting out a cough. “I’m sorry you have to hear them this way, but you deserve some last words from me, so here I go: working with you has been the greatest pleasure of my life.”

You record one for each of your co-workers, your family members.

“Chim, I always thought of you as a mentor…”

“Hen, your friendship has meant the absolute world to me…”

“Eddie, I haven’t known you for long, but I’m glad I got to meet you…”

“Pretty Boy,” you laugh, then cough again. “Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?”

A few tears fall from your face as you end the recording. You take a few deep breaths before marching onward.

Ch 5

[felassan]

David Gaider on Shale, under a cut for length:

"Oops! I realized I'd moved on from DAO but missed one of the companions I'd written. Which checks out, honestly, because I almost didn't write Shale and, even after I'd written her, she almost didn't happen anyhow. Then she did. Prepare yourself for... PIGEON QUEST. 🦤 So... I'm wracking my brain, but I don't recall how Shale began. I have this vague memory of us wanting a "weird" party member who didn't conform to the normal classes (this was back when Dog didn't need to be in the party), and I think my mind drifted to an old indie comic character named Concrete."

"Now, your reaction to that is probably "who?" That's OK. When I explain that HK-47 in KotOR was inspired by an old Canadian TV show called the Littlest Hobo I get the same perplexed response. 😅 In short: Concrete was just a regular dude. Who happened to also be a walking hulk of rock. Cue hi-jinx. The problem here is I don't remember whether the Concrete thing was part of the original inspiration or something I thought of at the point when I started writing the character. Because I didn't, at first. That was later. Shale was initially taken on by Jay Turner, then one of our junior writers. Jay had an idea to make Shale more of a robot, an emotionless automoton killer... think HK-47, but without the layer of sarcasm. I was leery, and told Jay he'd have to be very careful. "Emotionless" can very quickly turn into "boring", after all, unless you're VERY careful. But Jay was determined. Sigh. This was a fail on my part, as his lead. There's been a couple of times in my career when I've let a junior convince me with their enthusiasm to take on something my experience said they shouldn't. And then watch their confidence crumble despite every effort I made to reassure them it was OK. This was one of those times. Jay, no idea if you'll read this but: I'm sorry. Even an experienced writer would have found that a daunting challenge. Tonia, my other Big Fail on a similar situation in DAI: I'm sorry. Both times, I should have known. You did your best, but I set you up to fail. 😔"

"Jay did his best, and this version of Shale was certainly interesting... but, when he was done, it was one of those peer reviews where every writer had that look of "I'm REALLY sorry to say this..." It felt flat. Jay tried numerous revisions, but the issue wasn't his ability - it was the concept. I only allowed my writers a certain number of tries before I take it away. This hearkens back to an earlier time at Bio when writers would hack away at something that wasn't working 6, 7, 8 times or more until finally their soul was dust. Mike Laidlaw can attest. Revision isn't always the answer. So I moved (a much relieved, I think) Jay onto something else, and the question arose: what do we do with Shale? Do we cut it? It was already very late. Then Shale dropped in my lap. I don't remember if it was me refusing to let it go or maybe Brent (Knowles, Creative Director) giving it to me. I suspect it was the latter, because I recall being a bit bitter about the whole thing. WHAT am I going to do with this character? At the time, they'd moved me out of the writers pit to instead be in a big office with the other leads. I had this corner desk by a window (yay) with an awful view (ugh) What was so awful about it? It looked out onto the neighbouring roof, where there was only an HVAC unit to see. In the winter, pigeons would gather around it. They pooped all over everything - there was this alcove around the access door, right? The pigeons roosted there and it was POOP FAUCET city."

"Not only that, the pigeons used the HVAC like some kind of sex den. Angry, ugly pigeon sex. The only respite was when a hawk would appear and the pigeons scattered. Then I'd get maybe a day when there was a single pigeon corpse, like an exploded ball of down, to act as a scarecrow. Good days, those. What does any of this have to do with Shale? Well, there's me, staring out the window trying desperately to think what I'm going to do. But I CAN'T stare out the window because, gross. But what else am I going to stare at while I think? It was making me furious. I hated those pigeons SO SO MUCH. And then it hit me: Shale is basically an animated statue, right? Something that pigeons are rather notorious for also gathering on? And so I wrote. I wrote like the angry, angry wind. I had zero time to do this so it was basically me vomiting all my annoyance at everything into a single character. Not that it helped much. There was a battle going on over Shale - first, as I recall, it was the art team. They were going to make every doorway in the game EXTRA HUGE because they were worried that Shale was too large and might clip. So, yes, let's alter the whole world to fix that. Good idea. 🙃 Eventually, they compromised by making Shale smaller. Sten-sized. Or Brent went Akira mode, but I don't really know. This was a battle happening above my level. Yet Shale got cut anyhow. There wasn't time to do her abilities and we were short on cinematics time. There was never enough time on DAO."

""Oh well," I thought. "That's that." I did what I could, but cut content is almost never resurrected. The idea was floated of making Shale into a DLC but I scoffed. Yeah, right! But... it happened. That's why the "almost" is there. Enough of the team liked Shale they made it happen this one time. This meant I could finish up the writing once we'd more or less wrapped DAO, and the rest of the team (cinematics, in particular, who were pressed the hardest for time) could move onto the Shale DLC once they were ready. It was supposed to come out well after release, but you know. Shenanigans. This particular shenanigan was EA deciding to sit on the finished DAO a few months in order to delay the release. Why? Again, not my level. To get closer to Christmas, maybe, or maybe for sim ship. It did mean Shale ended up being ready for release day. Unexpected confluence of events, honestly. Cue some fans getting upset that "cut content" was sold to them separately, which... fair, I guess? The alternative would have been that Shale was simply cut, period, and it just worked out this way but... yes, fair. This was back when DLC was the main beef of hardcore gamers. Oh, the good old days. Overall? I have a soft spot for Shale. She has no soft spot for anyone, being... you know... made of rock. It's why I put her in Asunder, and why she was also going to be in the - apparently now notorious for its Fenris murder - cancelled fourth DA novel. Also, if you're a pigeon fan: not sorry. 😇"

[source thread]

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I’ve been working on Vil’s “slap the overblot out of him” fanfic. I apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, my research paper takes precedence. However, I was unsatisfied with my writing so I’ve been revamping it. MC has become much sassier than I anticipated. It’s hilarious, but I’m not sure how I’m going to add a lot of fluff. I’m sure it will come in time, but it amused me and I wanted to share.

I also thought I would also give u an update on my other fanfics and ideas. All for Vil of course lol

The other fanfic I’m working on has a lot more soft fluff. It’s the one where the MC accidentally insults Vil because they think it’s a traditional Pomefiore greeting. That one’s funny and cute. MC treats him like a normal human. It’s a nice change of pace for our beautiful dorm leader. He’s used to being treated as untouchable. However, it’s lonely at the top. Vil is touched starved in this one. Also MC borrows Rook’s hat. You’ve gained the favor of our favorite hunters. Look forward to its release lol.

The other Vil fanfic I have is the body swap one. Even thinking about it brings a devious smile to my lips. It fulfills my deep fantasies of beating Vil at his own game. I want to show him that he could do better. He blames the acting industry for pigeonholing him into villain roles. While that’s certainly part of it, he can put in some work to change his circumstances. He’s not helpless.

In that one, Rook is a main and central character. I love Rook. He’s a hoot. I’m glad he’s a main character. As you know, he’s a valuable asset. The man knows Vil better than Vil himself. If you want an accurate, unbiased judge of your Vil imitation, he’s your boy. He agrees to work with you because he also wants Vil to realize he’s being too narrow minded.

The entire body swap fanfic is just one big power move. It makes me grin. I hope you all are as excited about my idea as I am lol

[autumnhobbit]

Genuinely think half the problem here is a lot of parents are not in a place themselves where they can teach their kids how to recognize when something is good, and how to handle the intricacies of emotions, attraction, and decency while navigating social relationships with other people.

When I was growing up, the way adults talked about relationships, both amidst themselves and directly to me, gave me the idea that marriage just sort of happened, like it was something you tripped into without conscious choice and were now stuck with. This led to a conclusion by me that any male I met could possibly be my future husband, which colored every interaction with stress and awkwardness and fear and kept me from actually being normal around other kids, because I had artificially inserted this importance into interactions that should have just been. Well. Interactions.

Looking back on it now, I can see that every single crush I had had absolutely nothing to do with looking at another person objectively, judging their character and decency, or even seeing if I liked them; if they made me feel safe, or engaged, or reinvigorated. I only had crushes on boys who I found cute or attractive. None of those necessary thoughts ever went into it, and none of the boys even liked or noticed me. Maybe one or two of them were actually people I liked and talked to. Hindsight also helps me see that when a guy was interested in me or had a crush on me, I was oblivious to it and was incredibly uncomfortable, because we were all kids and didn’t know how to talk or act and it just came off like them showing off around me or trying to talk to me when I didn’t know them, which led to avoidance on my part.

My husband was the first guy I ever met whom I actually liked and was interested in, and he was the first one who actually seemed openly interested in me. When I daydreamed about marriage as a kid, the only thing I thought about was a boy liking me. I never thought about what I would like about him, just about being appreciated and valued myself. Selfish, right? But I was emotionally neglected and it came out as desperately longing to be important to someone. And then when I found it, I realized it naturally came with a reciprocal effect on me. I do find my husband fascinating and comforting and I enjoy his company, I want to do things with him, experience new things with him, build a life with him. That couldn’t have happened if I dismissed him right away because I wanted to avoid the awkwardness of getting to know him.

I am aware we got incredibly lucky with each other, and I’m grateful for it. But what we have also took work that we both consciously chose to do. We had the guidelines of knowing that premarital sex wasn’t an option for us, and that certainly helped. But it’s tragic to think how many people could build happiness with someone if they could just let go of their fantasies and expectations long enough to see what’s really there and what could be if there’s mutual effort. But how could they? No one taught them, because no one knew how themselves. So many families of origin weren’t formed by conscious choice but by natural consequences of behavior, even if your parents are decently healthy and love you, they might well have no clue how to navigate relationships with others.

trads who use the term "courtship" are an immediate red flag to me

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

what am i to you | pablo gavi [part ii]

🌧️ synopsis: In an attempt to get over Pablo, you go on a date, only to end up in the hospital with a sprained ankle. When Pablo shows up uninvited, trying to take care of you, the moment turns into a full-blown fight. tags: angst, unrequited love, emotional tension. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 2.5k words)

you can read the first part here.

After the confession, you both said you'd stay in each other's lives, like nothing had changed. You promised. But promises, you realize, are easier said than kept.

The calls become even rarer, and when they do come, they’re awkward, halting. He used to be the first person you’d call when you were bored, the one you’d go to when you needed to vent or laugh, and now? Now you just… don’t.

That’s when you meet him – this other guy. He’s nice, funny enough, interested. And he’s not Pablo. You don’t have butterflies, but there’s a kind of safety in that, a relief in the way he looks at you with no expectations, no memories weighing you down. So when he asks you out, you say yes, not because you’re excited, but because you’re desperate to move forward, to stop feeling like you’re stuck in that moment when Pablo said, “I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.”

The night of the date, you’re almost ready when your phone rings. It’s Pablo, and your heart jumps, he hasn’t called in weeks, and it’s like he knew, like he somehow sensed that you were trying to step away from him for good.

You answer, trying to sound normal. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, his voice distant, like he’s not sure if he’s intruding. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep it casual. You’re trying to decide between two different shoes for the date, and it feels wrong. “I guess we’ve both been… busy.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. But you’re not about to get into that now. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, all dressed up, ready to leave.

“Actually,” you interrupt, “I’m kind of in a hurry. I have… plans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you can almost picture the look on his face – confused, caught off guard. “Plans?” he asks, and you can hear an edge in his voice now, one he’s trying to hide. “Like… a date?”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to sound like it’s not a big deal. “I’m going out with someone.”

“With who?”

“Just… someone I met,” you say, trying to brush it off, “We’ve only talked a couple of times.”

There’s silence, and you’re about to check if he’s still on the line when he says, “So that’s what you’re doing now? Just going out with random guys?”

You get defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, his anger leaking into his words. “It’s just… you’re already –” He stumbles over the words, his voice tight. “Is that what you want now?”

“It’s not like that,” you insist, feeling the heat rise in your face. “You’re the one who –” You stop yourself because you promised you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn't blame him. But he doesn’t make it easy.

He lets out a bitter laugh, and it cuts deeper than you’d like to admit. “No, go ahead. Say it.”

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to lash back. “I miss you,” you say.

“It doesn’t look like you do,” he says quietly, and there’s a hurt there you didn’t expect. 

Your chest tightens, and you can feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Pablo, you stopped calling,” you say, your voice breaking. “You left me here alone, what was I supposed to do?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you wish you could see his face, wish you could understand what’s going through his mind. “I just… I thought we’d be okay,” he says finally, his voice sounding defeated. “That we’d get through this. Together.”

You take a shaky breath. “I thought so too,” you admit. There’s a silence that stretches on, heavy and suffocating.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, “have fun on your date.” And then he hangs up before you can say another word, leaving you staring at your reflection, feeling like you’ve lost him all over again.

part 2

The date wasn’t going great, you didn’t have much in common with the guy, and things got even worse. One minute you’re walking across the street after dinner, pretending to laugh at some lame joke he made, and the next, your ankle twists under you, the pain shooting up your leg like a lightning bolt. You try to catch yourself, but you land hard, knees buckling beneath you.

The guy freaks out, asking if you're okay, but all you can focus on is the pulsing pain in your ankle. You're pretty sure it's sprained, but you're too embarrassed to admit it right away. He helps you up, practically carrying you to the nearest bench, and that's when you finally let yourself wince in pain.

A trip to the hospital later and you’re sitting in one of those sterile, white rooms, cradling your swollen ankle in your lap. Nothing too serious, just a sprain, but it’s enough to make you feel like an idiot. The guy’s hovering by the door, looking uncomfortable, like he wants to leave but doesn't know how. You can’t blame him. The awkwardness between you is palpable, and this was supposed to be a fun night.

You’re ready to get out of there, but you don't want to be alone for the discharge process. The guy’s already looking at his phone like he’s counting the minutes. So, you make a decision.

You pull out your phone, thinking of someone nearby, someone who won’t make things more awkward. Aurora. You don’t really want to call her, but she lives in the neighborhood, and you can’t stand the idea of sitting here with the date guy. It's nothing against him – well, maybe it is, but you really just need a friend right now.

You hit call, and it rings a few times before she picks up, her voice bright and concerned.

“Hey, what’s up? You good?”

“I’m at the hospital,” you say quickly, the words sounding so much worse than they feel. “I sprained my ankle on the date, can you come? Please?”

Aurora doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course, I’m on my way.” You end the call, grateful she’s coming, and feeling a lot better knowing someone familiar will be here soon.

A few minutes later, the door swings open. You expect it to be Aurora, but when you look up, you freeze.

Pablo stands there, his eyes wide with concern, his posture stiff. And right next to him, Aurora is visibly cringing, her face flushed red. She’s holding her hands up in an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t mean to –” she starts, but Pablo cuts her off.

“Are you okay?” His voice is frantic, as if you’re on the brink of death instead of sitting there with a sprained ankle.

You blink, taken aback by how he’s acting.

“I’m fine,” you say, a little too forcefully, but the last thing you need right now is to be treated like a patient. “Just a sprain. Nothing serious.”

Pablo doesn’t look convinced. He steps into the room, eyes scanning your ankle. He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to argue with him when he’s looking at you like that.

Aurora stands off to the side, a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry, I called him,” she whispers. “I thought you’d want him to know.”

“Really?” you ask, a little irritated now, because it’s clear Pablo doesn’t know how to handle this. You’re still pissed at him for the phone call earlier, but now? Now it feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re happy to see him, just not like this.

Pablo, still standing too close, suddenly shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know, I just… I thought I should be here,” he says, his voice a little quieter, like he’s realizing how ridiculous he’s being.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, trying to lighten the mood. “Seriously. I’m just waiting to be discharged.”

Before you can say anything else, the date guy clears his throat. You turn to see him stepping forward.

"Um, should I leave?" His voice is a little too high-pitched, trying to be polite but also clearly uncomfortable now that Pablo’s here. Pablo, who’s still looking at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re dying, shifts his eyes to the guy standing by the door.

“Who even are you?” Pablo’s tone is confused, but there's also a sharpness to it now, something territorial. It doesn’t make sense, but you can feel the weirdness between them.

You open your mouth, about to explain, but Pablo cuts you off.

“Is that the guy you just had a date with?” His eyes rake over him. "Yeah, you can leave now. I got it." He waves him off, voice firm and final, like he’s the one in charge here.

“Pablo, what the hell?” you snap. Your blood’s boiling, you look over at the date guy, who’s still standing there like he’s waiting for a command. “Yeah, you can go now,” you say, softer, sweeter than Pablo, but the sentiment’s the same. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

Pablo scoffs, and it’s the kind of sound that tells you he’s annoyed, but it’s also kind of funny, considering he’s the one who’s ruining the moment. You’re not sure if he’s jealous or if he’s just being an idiot, but it pisses you off all the same.

Once the date guy leaves, the silence between you and Pablo is loud. You cross your arms, staring at him like you’re daring him to keep pushing.

“Well, now you can leave!” you say, voice cool, as you face him. 

Pablo doesn't budge, though. "And how are you going home?" He sounds offended, like you’ve done something wrong by even suggesting that he should leave.

You roll your eyes. “Aurora can take me,” you mutter, already tired of the back-and-forth.

Pablo’s face twitches like he’s winning the argument. “I drove Aurora here,” he says, smug. Like the fact that he’s the one with the car makes him the one in control now.

Your eyes narrow, but deep down, you know you’ve got no choice. “Fine,” you grumble, defeated.

part 3

Pablo’s arms are strong, but his touch is gentle as he picks you up, carrying you bridal style like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands are steady as he lifts you, his face close to yours, it makes you feel like you're back in that place where everything between you two was simple. But that’s not the reality anymore, is it?

He doesn’t say a word as he carries you to the couch, setting you down so gently it’s almost too much. You want to tell him to back off, to let you handle it, but you catch something in his eyes that stops you – he’s looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, and you can’t deal with that, not right now.

“It’s just a sprain,” you say, but your voice cracks halfway through, and you hate yourself for it. You hate how kind he’s being, how his touch makes everything hurt even more.

Pablo shakes his head. “I miss you too,” he says, his voice low, almost broken. It’s a call back to the phone call, to what you said earlier, and it’s like he’s holding onto those words for dear life.

Your heart feels like it’s about to shatter. “Then let me go,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “We can’t be friends if I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He’s closer now, wiping the tears from your cheek, his hand lingering longer than it should. He’s too close, and you’re drowning in it. But you let him stay because, in some twisted way, it’s all you have left of him.

“Don’t go on dates with idiots,” he says, his voice is exasperated. “You don’t need them. You just need to be with me, and we can make it work. We can go back to how it was. I promise.”

You shake your head, trying to stop the tears that just won’t quit. “Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean no one else will,” you say, the words bitter on your tongue. “Don’t act like I can’t find someone who can make me happy.”

Pablo’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing. “You’re just doing this to get back at me, and you know it.”

You almost laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not trying to get back at you, I’m trying to move on. I can’t keep pretending we’re okay.”

“You don’t need someone else,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand clenched into a fist. “You never needed anyone else. You’ve always had me.”

“Not anymore,” you snap, your anger flaring. “I don’t have you anymore! You’ve shut me out like nothing happened!”

His eyes flash, he steps closer, his hand reaching out for you, but you flinch back, afraid of how close he is, afraid of what it means. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice so small. “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you say, your whole body trembling. “You just had to stay.”

His face falls, and for a second, you almost reach out to him. But you stop yourself. “I want my best friend back,” he says, his voice cracking.

“You don’t get that,” you shout, the words rushing out. “You can’t pretend I’m the same person I was before any of this happened. I’m not!”

“I don’t care!” His voice rises, raw and desperate. “I don’t care if it’s different, I just want you in my life. I don’t know what to do without you.”

You pull away. “You can’t keep saying that.”

He looks at you, devastated. He’s leaning closer now, his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing circles against your skin. It’s like he’s pretending nothing’s changed, pretending this is how things always were.

“Pablo –"

You push against his chest, the tears running down your face now, uncontrollable. “Please, just leave,” you say, your voice shaking, but you mean it.

You’ve had enough. You’re done.

But Pablo just looks at you, he doesn’t move, doesn’t leave, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s not going to listen.

“Please,” you beg, your voice breaking. "Just go."

Pablo’s hand brushes his own cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized fell. He speaks like he's trying to convince himself more than you. “I’ll come back,” he says. “To check on your injury, make sure you’re better.”

He looks away quickly. “I’ll take care of you... like you took care of me.” His words hang in the air, painfully.

You watch him go, every step tearing at you. As the door closes, you stare at it for a second, your body tensing as if it’s about to snap in two. And then you can’t take it anymore. You reach for the nearest pillow, throwing it at the door with every ounce of anger you’ve been holding inside.

“Idiot!” you scream, everything hurts – your heart, your head, your stupid, stupid tears.

You sit there, staring at the door, feeling the ache spread through your chest. It hits you like a punch – you haven’t touched him, haven’t held him in over a month. It feels like the end of everything, and it’s crushing you.

You curl up on the couch, hugging yourself, wishing things could go back to how they were before everything went wrong. But they can’t. All you have is the emptiness he left behind, and it’s swallowing you whole.

[vampirerealll]

WEIRD RANT:

Will wood's music brings me so much comfort. This happens for a lot of my hyperfixations, where they're my only source of dopamine for a while. But idk, I just need to rant about how much his music comforts me

First of all, his music has changed my view on my gender. I/me/myself has taught me that I don't have to completely mentally conform to any gender identity. I don't have to have a name for my gender. I don't have to identify completely with one set of pronouns. It's all a construct that we're forced to follow every day, but... do we really *have* to conform?

Not to say that I don't respect people who do want to put a name to their gender identity; it's just that Will Wood's views on identity identity have opened me up to the possibility that, it doesn't have to matter that much.

Second off all, his music is so comforting to me, as an autistic person. A lot of his songs that describe his struggles with mental health are so validating to me. I've never heard a song describe derealization, and not feeling human enough, and craving the normality of a regular human brain, but never being able to achieve it as well as Will Wood songs do.

I've always lied to myself about how "normal" i am. I've never *really* felt regular, and the look on people's faces when I start openly stimming around them tells me just how "normal" I am. But I don't have to force myself to be normal.

Will Wood has helped me realize that I don't have to force myself into normality. I've been able to comfortably be my weird, autistic self in front of those I care about. Being overwhelmed and having a meltdown doesn't seem as scary anymore. Not being able to pay attention in class doesn't make me feel as shameful. I'm only as normal as I can expect myself to be.

Anyway, thank you, Will Wood, for giving me a different perspective on identity. It's helped me be so much happier with myself. Thank you :)

[autonomyofadeer]

your ambessa x sevika x reader was SO good i wish it had a bit of comfort from sevika at the end tho😭 but fr u write amazingly i loved it <33

heyyy my bad lol! i wrote that at 4 am after a long day of work.. to make it up for you, here you go!☺️

! sevika x reader fluff !

summary -;- after a one night stand with a woman you met at the last drop last night, you wake up in the morning in her bed. what more could happen?

tags -;- fluff, kissing, domestic stuff really

it was a long, long night. you had met her at the last drop. it was your first time fully enveloping yourself in zauns pleasurable businesses. the streets were littered with children, older men and women, spokespeople, clerics, etc.

you make your way into the bar, a bit nervous from the bustle and quick tempo of the atmosphere. you wander your way up to the bar to the barkeep. i glance up at the menu then back at the bartender.

"first time here 'ey?" a tall and built man asked you. a small whisper of a yes comes out of your mouth.

"no need to be afraid 'ere. names vander, i own this place. whatdya want?" he asks you, a smile never leaving his face.

you order a drink and you take a seat on the edge of the bar, protecting your drink as you people watch.

a little girl with blue hair runs by with a older girl with pink hair closelt behind. people of all sorts, animal people, zaunites, fighters, sellers, the lonely. you name it, they were here. until a certain someone caught your eye.

she was beautiful. grey eyes that shone in the light, a perfect bob with a mini bun in the back. you watched her closely as she shuffled her poker cards. she flicked her gaze up at you and you quickly focused back in on your drink.

'fuck. please don't notice me.' you think to yourself as a faint hue of pink rise on your cheeks in embarassment.

the night passes on, you stole a few more glances from her every now and then.

you decided to get back home before you get too intoxicated. you sit up and briskly walk to the bathroom, turning the corner to fix your makeup in the mirror. the door opens behind you so you shuffle out of the way for whomever to get by. until you heard the strangers voice.

"saw you starin'" she husks out, catching your gaze in the mirror as your blush comes back. you trip over your words for a second before your form a coherant sentence.

"i-im really sorry i am. im new here and i was just looking around- i wasnt staring at-" you turn around and suddenly realize just how close she is. "you.." you whisper out.

"names sevika. what about yours doll?" she whispers to you as she pushes you against the wall.

...

beep. beep. beep.

you shift around in your bed into you roll over to turn the alarm off, except you're stuck in something. you move to push whatever off of you into you realize it was an arm.

a small yelp escapes your lips until you look up, realizing who it was. your cheeks tint pink. sevika raises her arms to rub her eyes as she groggily looks up at you. "hey dollface.." she mumbles to you.

you look at her with confusion, no recognition at all. you nervously chuckle.

"shit- you mustve been real drunk." she laughs awkwardly as she sits up, pulling you into her lap almost. "s'okay. we kinda fucked then went to bed. y'know?" she states to you, as if that was normal.

she could tell from your expression that that was not your usual end to a night. a small laugh escapes her mouth as she leaves a few kisses on your forehead as an apology. "look, i gotta do some errands today for some people. so c'mon." she tells you as she gets out of bed, the shests slipping down and revealing she's still bare-naked.

a gasp escapes your mouth as you close your eyes shut tight. sevika laughs and walks over to you, moving your hands as she put a oversized shirt on. she hikes you up with ease, you laugh softly as you wrap your arms around her neck. her laege hands gripping your thighs around her hips as she waltzes into the kitchen.

she grabs some cereal from the cabinet, along with milk, a spoon and a bowl. she nudges then towards you as you sit down at her bartop. you smile at her as a gesture of appreciation.

"sorry for... yknow.. last night" you tell her as you fill your mouth with cereal.

"you're fine dollface. it was one of the better fucks ive had in a while. might just keep you around" she mumbles to you as she wraps her lips around the base of your neck, shivers running down your spine as she wraps her arms aroujd your waist and pulls you in closer.

this was gonna be a good day.

[divinit3a]

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') 🔮 <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

[zundely]

What makes me so crazy about Lace/Rook is that we have all the 6 months before the game starts for them to slowly start crushing on each other.

I am VERY slow to fall so I am really enjoying imagine how the relationship progressed from maybe a little rocky start- my Rook is not great at expressing themselves so they often come off as rude at first, and I think Lace in the beginning could get an impression that they do not like her. But then they progressively learn more about each other through working together. They discover they work really well together at missions. And slowly but surely they start to get closer. But they got a god to stop, eyes on the prize so there is never really good time to talk about it.

Varric begins to feel like a third wheel on a lot of the missions. Every time he goes with each of them he gets asked "Harding will be there?" "Should we take Rook?" And he has the most knowing tired look about it known to man.

And then the Veilguard happens and everything shift And starts going faster and Rook realizes that you know what maybe me having a crush on my coworker is actually the most normal thing that could be happening to me right now so maybe at this point I should just go for it.

[itsrlymine]

haiii I follow and look at a lot of loa blogs here but urs stands out to me… idk why

now I’m already a master manifestor hehe, trust you will be hearing abt the 3d reflection of them but for those reading this anon (can I be 🪐💜??) here’s stuff I’ve ALREADY manifested before!!

- got my whole ass friend group back. We had a fight back in mid 2022 and we all blocked each other but a few months ago I started missing them hard and I kept telling myself “every time I think of x, she thinks of me twice as much” LO AND BEHOLD SHE TEXTS ME LIKE A WEEK LATER APOLOGIZING AND THEN TELLS ME SHES STILL FRIENDS W ANOTHER PERSON IN THE GC!!! we got to work it out too

- getting free food

- making aches and pain vanish instantly

- changing the weather (I’ve done this a couple of time!! we went to the city and didn’t bring umbrellas bc we didn’t check that it was gonna be raining, I just decided it wasn’t gonna!)

- delaying my period (same day as the weather thing too! I wasn’t prepared ((I’m also nonbinary lol, not a girl))

- my usually strictly religious family letting me go out in outfits they told me I couldn’t wear before

- manifested my friends being told by their parents they could do stuff

- lost my headphones and manifested them back, (except I didn’t find them, my friend bought me the same ones 😭😭)

- for my mom to stop asking me to do so much random religious stuff like girly… i do not wanna do allat

And so much more and the only thing that was what I scripted was getting my friend group back! The rest are just day to day normal stuff. Like bro I’m realizing how powerful I am and how I don’t need to do any methods or anything like that bc I can just affirm once or twice and ???? it happens immediately?!? I’m a god frfr

I LOVE UR BLOG SM 🫶🏼🫶🏼

OMGGG HELLO 🪐💜!!! Wow and i was just thinking about revising and getting some old friends back not you reflecting meeeee. All these successes are so incredible you better work!!!!!! You are a freaking God and I love you so much!!! I still script and visualize when I just naturally find myself doing so and it's just so easy omg.

Congrats you are killing it and i'm so excited about the "future" successes you will send yayyyyyy!