#just gonna drag my ass back there tomorrow and not do half of the things i SHOULD be doing cause i gotta cover for someone or

[ilkkawhat]

me and my fucked up relationship with work, feeling guilty that things are going to shit while i'm not there and feeling anxious that i'm gonna get some sort of blame for it in the morning

[a66-1]

starving.

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

Part 1 | ???

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen. (these tw are for the whole thing, im pretty sure this is gonna be a series)

a/n: hey. if you need help, dm me. ill talk to you if you need it :). (also i made my banners. if you want one dm me! i make them for free, just with credit :)) NOT PROOF READ

i hope your doing okay honey.

Stepping out of the shower, the towel around you just big enough to touch ends is slipped around yourself. Showering is getting harder. You can barely stand glancing at the mirror now.

You dry yourself off, and hand the towel back up. You can do it, just walk past the mirror to grab your clothes.

You take the steps past the mirror, and turn your back to the mirror to change. Slipping your bra on, and it squishes the skin on your back and you grimace.

Once your dressed, you turn back around. The nagging voices are just waiting to pounce. I mean, what? You used to be so skinny.

You used to be pretty.

You decided to let your hair air dry, and you walk into your bedroom. You had work today, but you really wish you didn't. It was a bad week, you'd skipped 3 meals in the last few days and you know what your therapist would say.

'The progress you've made, hun. You can't go back now.'

The bad days are getting too close to each other now. You used to have at least a week between them, but now it's barely 48 hours. Maybe being off medicine isn't working good anymore.

Maybe you're no good.

You throw in a big hoodie, one that covers you, and some sweat pants, glancing at the big mirror in your room.

You can't stop analyzing yourself.

There's not one good thing on you is it?

Fuck.

The rest of the day was spent at your stupid 9-5, with your stupid boss, in your stupid, lonely life. Christ, being off anti-depressants is really hitting you hard. Everyone at your job is stupid and today every customer who wants to blow you ear off about how you kids these days, by the end of the day, your so tense that your shoulders are aching.

You got about 30 minutes left at this off-brand kroger store, when a big, big ass man walks in, shoving a mask with a skull print on it on. You curse to yourself, you really don't want to have to call the police for a robbery, you just want to go home.

To be honest, if he had a gun, you'd be half tempted to let him shoot you-

"Ma'am?" A heavy British accent came from your right. You turn your head, and scan his few items. You don't bother with the how are you's and you sigh.

"It'll be 16.84." You drag your eyes to his, and he reaches to his pocket, pulling out..

A wallet. What else were you thinking?

He hands you a twenty, and you hand him his respective change. He bags his own items, because honestly, you seem like the only worker in the store. Your face is written with exhaustion, whether it be from this job or something else, and the guy notices.

"Have uh... A good day." He nods to you, and walks off.

You purse your lips, and sigh, closing your cashier, because fuck finishing today. You're too close to a breakdown, and you're not trying to let anyone see.

You drive home, your hands tight around the wheel. You know it's a bad idea to be driving this emotional, to the point you wonder what would happen if you swerve your car into a tree.

You won't do it though.

You need to get back out there. It's why you stopped taking your meds.

You promise yourself that tomorrow you'll go out, and at least get a one night stand, you want need, anything.

Once home and in bed, you scroll and scroll and scroll. Doom scrolling is too common on these longer nights. You have a pillow tucked into your arm, and your hand squeezes it every time that pang in your lower chest rings out. Loneliness, you think.

You always scroll through your old friends instagrams or snapchats, seeing their nice bodies and nice boyfriends. You've been so nice and kind and karma should be on your side, but it always failed.

Especially after your last boyfriend.

Your friends say to wait.

To wait.

To wait.

But waiting is getting harder. Days are getting longer, and your head seems to spin more when left to its own devices. Why do you have to wait?

Your looks.

Your personality.

Who'd wanna be seen with you?

You flip your phone over, and shove your face in the pillow, your breathing staggered.

You fell asleep late, that night. The tears brought you to exhaustion.

woah why did this take 2 tries to write.

be waiting for pt.2

TRUST FINALS ARE SOOM COMING TO AN END and summer i will be STEWING TRUST!!!

Taglist!

@i-am-hungry-24-7

thank you for all the support. drunk simon blew up and im crying bc i came back after a 2 year hiatus and i wasn't getting the same feedback as usual so to finally seeing people enjoy my work again makes me feel great. <3

sorry simon wasn't in this part much. you gotta know the reader first tho, right?

bye babes..

-a661

[cosmiclily]

.ᐟ chapter four: i don’t wanna talk to you anymore

wc: 1.1k

cw: drinking, self loathing, angst (!!!)

After my sixth drink of the night, I decided it was time to look for Vi. Maybe the alcohol surging through my veins would finally give me the courage to do something about these stupid feelings that had been plaguing me for nearly five years.

God, get a grip on yourself.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe I was just tired of wallowing in self-pity, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to say something.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go look for Vi,” I said, turning to Jinx and Ekko. My voice was steadier than I expected. “I’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but I really need to get some things off my chest.”

Ekko frowned, concern etched on his face. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said cautiously.

Jinx, already slurring her words, waved him off. “Babe, she’s gotta live a little,” she said, her head resting on Ekko’s shoulder. “If I hadn’t made a move, we wouldn’t even be together right now!”

Ekko sighed, clearly torn, but finally shrugged. “Fine, but don’t come yelling at me tomorrow because I let you do this.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned and started searching for Vi.

First, I checked the front yard. Then the bathrooms. With her nowhere to be found, my nerves ramped up. By the time I reached the stairs, my hands were sweating, the push and pull from the people making me even more nervous. The only thing upstairs were the bedrooms. I hesitated, knowing how bad this could go, but pushed forward.

What if she was up here? What if she wasn’t? What if I found her doing something that would certainly hurt me?

I reached the first door on the right and, with a shaky breath, pushed it open.

And there it was.

A dark blue haired girl sitting on Vi’s lap, their lips locked in a kiss that left no room for interpretation. Vi’s hands gripped the girl’s ass, holding her close, her movements confident and natural.

They didn’t even notice me at first, too engrossed in each other to care. But when the door creaked, Vi glanced up, her eyes meeting mine for half a second before the realization dawned on her.

“Y/—” she started, her voice tinged with surprise, but I didn’t wait to hear the rest.

“Oh, I’m sorry” I mumbled, quickly closing the door before either of them could say anything else.

The image burned in my mind, and I felt the tears welling up almost instantly. My chest tightened, my stomach twisted, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together as I stumbled back down the stairs, pushing through the intoxicated bodies.

“You were right. I’m going home,” I said in a rush to Ekko, grabbing the drink he was holding and downing it in one go. The alcohol barely registered anymore. “If Vi asks—and she probably won’t because she’s very busy right now—just tell her I wasn’t feeling well and left.”

Jinx and Ekko stared at me, clearly confused and concerned, but I didn’t have the energy to explain. Not now.

“I’ll text you when I get home” I said over my shoulder as I shoved my way out the door.

The cold night air hit me like a slap, but it did nothing to ease the ache in my chest. My mind raced with the memory of Vi on that balcony earlier, the way she’d looked at me, the softness in her voice. How could I have been so stupid?

I thought it meant something. I thought she felt it too. But of course not. Why would she, when she could have anyone she wanted?

And yet, for some ridiculous, naive reason, I’d thought she might choose me.

The walk home felt like an eternity as i tried to keep the tears at bay. By the time I reached the elevator, my chest ached from holding everything in. When the doors opened to my floor, I trudged down the hallway, my feet dragging like weights, and unlocked the door to our apartment.

The moment I stepped inside, the familiar smell of her cologne hit me like a punch to the gut. My eyes landed on the crooked band poster she’d insisted on hanging in the living room. The lead singer, with his smug grin, seemed to mock me as I stood there, crumbling under the weight of feelings I couldn’t seem to escape.

Everything here screamed Vi. The way the cushions on the couch were slightly askew from her sprawling earlier. The hoodie she’d left draped over the armrest. Even the half-empty cup of coffee on the kitchen counter, forgotten in her rush to get ready for the party, felt like a cruel reminder of her.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, after sending a quick text to Ekko —assuming Jinx would be out cold by now, turned the shower to the coldest setting, and stepped in. The icy water shocked my skin, but it didn’t numb the pain I felt inside. I let the water fall over me, hoping it would wash away the hurt, the jealousy, the overwhelming sense of failure. It didn’t.

After what felt like hours, I climbed out of the shower, dried off, and collapsed onto my bed. The sheets felt suffocating.

As I lay there staring at the ceiling, it hit me: I felt like I was in high school all over again. Back then, I’d watch Vi flirt with girls, her confidence magnetic, while I sat on the sidelines, pretending it didn’t bother me. I’d convinced myself then that it was just a phase, that I’d get over it.

But I never did.

Vi is single. She’s free to do whatever—or whoever—she wants. I know that. I know that. But even so, I can’t help but hate her a little right now. Hate the way she makes it impossible to move on. Hate the way she takes care of me, so effortlessly kind, as if it’s nothing. Hate the way she looks at me sometimes, like I’m the most important person in her world, only to turn around and kiss someone else like it’s nothing.

Would it cost her so much to stop being so… her?

Would it hurt her to stop looking at me with those soft eyes, or to stop teasing me in ways that leave my heart fluttering?

If she could just stop being Vi, maybe—just maybe—I’d finally be able to let her go.

As i fall asleep I keep thinking how this time I will get over her, whatever it takes, I can’t keep hurting myself or threatening our friendship this way.

──────────────────────

chapters

notes: reader is a whiny little baby yk guys 😭 but i kinda like her not gonna lie, i would cry too if i saw violet kissing other girls when she should be kissing me !! she’s so real for that

finished watching slocg today great show and renee rapp is in it (and ruby cruz as well but she only shows up for like 5 seconds)

[xoxochb]

Forbidden love trope with Jason grace plss

⋆·˚ ༘ * this love is difficult, but it’s real

warnings: renaissance era, I changed a bunch of things from the play because shakespeare was on something, one sexual insinuation, tons of dialogue, this honestly isn’t my best work

pairing: romeo coded! jason grace x juliet coded! reader (daughter of ares and aphrodite)

a/n: forbidden love trope? you know my literature loving ass is gonna do something romeo and juliet inspired

two households, both alike in dignity- just kidding that’s not where this is going

a crowded room, the sound of people talking around you. a banquet set up by your parents- unexpected but it’s typical for them, you assume they’re trying to set you up with another boy when they drag you to meet another prince- percy jackson wishes to take your hand in marriage and your parents agree with it. you don’t even know the man! small talk doesn’t get you places and that seems to be the only thing this boy knows

“lovely weather today” he says

you lean your head against a pillar “I suppose”

“what do you enjoy in your free time?”

“many things”

“such as…?”

he won’t give up will he?

“reading, painting, not very much”

he nods his head “I adore sword fighting, but often swimming when I’m not”

your eyes scan around the room as he continues on about his many hobbies, nothing you care about, although when you think about it you don’t care about percy himself. boys, boys, boys! all mean at this absurd party, why can’t you chose a husband on your own? your eyes stop when they meet electric blue ones, yet covered by a mask, who is this strange boy? you must get to know him!

“percy?”

“yes?”

“could I be excused for a moment? I have to use the restroom”

“yes that’s quite fine, when you get back I’ll tell you about my great adventure over mountaintops”

you give him a half-smile before rushing off. would a mysterious look be okay? or should you approach the boy immediately? yes! let him approach you first

you take a drink from a waiter and lean your back against the nearest pillar. a mysterious look will do you good in this situation

waiting, waiting… will the boy ever talk to you?

“quite a boring banquet don’t you think?”

you turn around, the blue-eyed boy stands behind the pillar, you move to the opposite side with him

“my parents want me married off to that boy” you point to percy across the room who seemingly found another woman to torture with dreadful stories

“do you want to?”

“want to what?”

“marry him?”

you shake your head “who are you?”

he hesitates “why don’t we ditch?”

“I can’t do that”

“why not?”

“my parents will be furious”

“so what? they’re busy anyways”

you sigh “only for a little while”

he takes your hand in his and you allow him to drag you outside the palace to the garden, flower filled courtesy of demeter

“what is your name?” you ask

“If I tell you will you kick me out?”

“why would I do that?”

“you’ll realize”

“so what is it?”

he removes his mask “jason grace”

oh…

“oh my gods, son of zeus! I should have known. what are you doing here? our fathers will kill us!”

“I had to see you” he takes both of your hands in his yet again

“why? what is so important that you had to risk your life?”

“I’m in love with you” he puts your hands over his heart, you feel his rapid heartbeat

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been pining over you for so long, I came here to ask for your hand in marriage”

“oh my gods oh my gods, we can’t marry and you know that!”

“please. In secret even would be fine”

“how the hell do you want me to secretly marry you?”

“I have a friend who will be willing to do it”

“don’t you think this is sudden?”

“would you rather marry that other boy?”

“I suppose not…”

“then will I see you tomorrow morning?”

marry the son of poseidon who shows interest in every woman, not loyal, and talks a lot, or the son of zeus who has supposedly been in love with you for years and risked his life to see you?

“meet me at my bedrooms balcony, seven sharp” you point to your balcony

“I won’t be late” he gives you a heart-stopping smile

before he runs off he places a kiss on your lips, quick but lovely. you await his next arrival

⚔️

you hate waking early in the morning. you were the one who arranged the time though and in a half an hour you would be getting married to a boy you barely knew, a handsome one though you wouldn’t complain

you followed your morning routine like usual, careful to stay silent as you assume most of your family will be asleep after the long party the previous night

should you dress fancy since it’s a wedding or casual because it’s secret? makeup or natural look? too many decisions to make! you put on a simple pink dress, nothing too much but still good enough for a wedding. a few touch ups with makeup and check the time on your wall clock 6:58 it reads. he would be here any moment. you rush to your balcony and catch sigh of the blond boy walking up to your castle

you manage to climb over the railing to grab hold of the vines to climb down, nearly impossible to do with your dress on. when you (finally) make it to the bottom you hold up your dress and run to the boy

out of breath you put your hands on your knees but not before holding up a singular finger to indicate you needed a minute

“do you run much?” asks jason

“not at all”

you go back to regular posture as your breathing slows back down “let’s get married now, shall we?”

“we shall”

you loop arms and go on your way to- wait… you don’t even know where you’re going. hope it’s not dangerous

when you arrive you see a worn down house, belonging to who? you don’t know

“the person that’s going to marry us lives in there? Is he certified?” you inquire

“I don’t think so. he’s cool though”

when you walk in the house your greeted by a hyperactive boy, assumed to be around your age

“I’ve been waiting, what took so long?” the boy says

“long walk” jason shrugs “anyways- y/n this is leo, and you already know her so…”

leo beams “great! let’s get this ceremony started!”

not much of a set up, not much of a big ceremony. It was a simple ‘say your vows then kiss let’s get this over with’ for reason one because leo was not legally certified to do this and two because you knew zeus had many eyes and took forms of exotic animals (he could be anywhere- this horrifies you)

not only was leo not certified, he additionally didn’t know how to officiate a wedding. a bunch of nonsense about love spilled from his mouth and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore

“you may now kiss the bride! but not in front of me, please don’t do that in front of me”

you give him a concerned look. and mouth and mutter an ‘okay’ with a slow nod of your head. he was weird wasn’t he?

once you exited the house you got your chance for a kiss- to cement your marriage. however jason has other ideas

“why don’t we go to your palace to consummate our marriage?”

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

half past five high: chapter 6 - a fool's broken heart

pairing: photographer!Joshua x influencer!reader (fem), supermodel!Mingyu x influencer!reader

genre: angst, love triangle!au

warnings: cursing, emotional distress, an argument, mingyu (probably the biggest warning)

word count: 3k

summary: joshua's kind nature puts him in more trouble than he can manage. but it also leads him to a strengthened resolve.

taglist: @delicatewerewolfsoul @aliceu @husbandhoshi @wonwoosthetic @boowanie @billboard-singer @gaebestie @jaeyux @aurumness @chwebychew @xrubyrosesx​ @lovelyhan​ @himbocoups​ @wongyuseokie @prettygyuuu @karynnoona

Author's note: hi everyone! i am actually alive and kicking again :D and what better way to come back with a new chapter, right? huge thanks to @tusswrites and @seokgyuu for beta/proofreading this 💕

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2024. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

Joshua walks through the rotating glass doors of the hotel as he drags his metal suitcase behind him. With heavy steps, he approaches the reception and rings the golden bell on the black marble counter.

The receptionist greets him with a radiant smile. “Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” 

“Good evening. I would like to book a room.”

“Of course. We have deluxe suites available-”

“Just a normal room with a single bed is okay.” Joshua cuts the man off with a half-hearted smile, “Luxury isn’t my current priority.”

“I see,” the receptionist checks the available rooms, “For how long will you be staying, sir?”

“I wish I knew,” Joshua sighs in defeat, “I’ll pay for this week and then I’ll see where it takes me.”

“Very well, sir.” The receptionist nods and hands over the room key. “Your room is on the seventh floor. You can pay for the room at checkout, if you wish.”

“I…,” Joshua trails off, “Thank you.”

“Have a good night, sir.”

Joshua walks towards the elevator and presses the button to the seventh floor, the door opening a few seconds later. It doesn’t take him long to find his assigned room and open the door to reveal a very clean and cozy room, just like he asked for.

Placing his suitcase aside, he plops down on the bed, shoes already kicked off and arms clenched tight. Running down a palm over his face, he lets out a heavy and long sigh.

How did things come down to this? 

This question has been running laps around Joshua’s mind ever since he left the house, heart clenching every time he remembers revving the engine of his car and speeding into the heart of Seoul. 

“No point in doing this now…” He mutters to himself and gets up from the bed to remove his clothes and jump into the shower, turning the tap to warm.

After a long and steamy shower, Joshua is neatly wrapped in the hotel bathrobe, sitting on the armchair next to the window with his earbuds on.

The song he’s listening to is abruptly interrupted by an incoming call, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he answers the call.

“Hello?”

“Good evening Shua! It’s me, Seungcheol.”

“Oh, Cheol, hi!” Joshua chirps when he recognizes the voice of the caller. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s gonna be pleasant for you, because it’s definitely not the most pleasant time for me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The photographer who was supposed to take the pictures for tomorrow’s photoshoot had an accident and they had to cancel everything.” Seungcheol states with an audible sigh.

“Jesus- Are they okay?!” Joshua gasps loudly.

“It wasn’t something life-threatening, thankfully.” The man admits. “But they have a wrist fracture, which is a pain in the ass.”

“Oh God, that’s gonna take weeks to heal.” Joshua sighs audibly.

“Yeah, I know. If it wasn’t so urgent, I wouldn’t have disturbed you - Besides, you must be busy with wedding preparations, right?”

A bitter aftertaste washes over Joshua’s mouth, his gut churning at Seungcheol’s words - not that it’s his fault. How could he have known?

“Yeah, it's been hectic lately, but I’m managing.” He musters as much fake happiness as he can, in order to sound believable. He thanks whatever higher being exists for hearing his friend laugh and congratulate him for his patience.

“So, can I count on you for tomorrow?” Seungcheol double checks.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Joshua’s composure remains unfaltering.

“Wonderful! I’ll email you the details in a few minutes. You’re a lifesaver, Shua.”

“No worries, Cheol. Have a good night.”

The call ends on a positive note and Joshua breathes a sigh of relief. He’s glad for this sudden change of events, hoping the extra work will take his mind off the mess that has become his personal life.

That was, until he received the email from Seungcheol with said details of the job.

Model: Mingyu Kim, 27.

It was only three words, but it was enough to twist and turn his guts around in the worst way possible. It feels like someone is doing shit on purpose, just to make him suffer.

He switches off his phone in haste and places it next to his earbuds. He knows what is going to happen if he calls Seungcheol back to cancel on his offer and unnecessary questions are the last thing he needs on his plate.

Guess we gotta put the brave facade on and power through this, too.

The next morning finds Joshua in the studio rented by the magazine directors, doing the necessary changes in his camera setup for the photo shoot.

Despite being welcomed warmly by the rest of the staff, he knows it won’t last long. Once Mingyu steps in, he’s in for the real crash test- 

“Good morning everyone!”

Speak of the devil.

Joshua whips his head around and sees the man in question greeting everyone with a big, bright, toothy smile - as if he’s the most perfect, greenest flag in the whole universe.

It makes him want to vomit.

“Well I’ll be, if it isn’t Joshua Hong!” Mingyu exclaims, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Mingyu.” Joshua responds with a fake smile.

“Sir Hong will be today’s photographer.” One of the staff members explains to the model, “Unfortunately, the other one who was supposed to be here recently suffered a wrist fracture.”

“Dear God, are they okay?!” The tall man asks with worry written all over his face.

“As far as we know, they’re safely recuperating at home, but they had to cancel their schedules for the next month.

“Do you have their contact info? I would like to send them my wishes for speedy recovery.”

“I believe you must ask sir Choi for that.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll go search for him after the shooting.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Joshua cuts through the conversation, “But I think sir Mingyu needs to go get his makeup done soon.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry for keeping you from your schedule.” The man apologizes with a bow and walks away.

“Certainly didn’t expect you of all people to show up for the shooting.” Mingyu says with disdain.

“If I knew you were the model beforehand, I wouldn’t have even bothered to say yes.” Joshua replies in a similar manner.

“Has anyone ever taught you that you always ask for details before you accept a job? Oh right, they don’t teach you that in freelance school.” The tall man snickers while looking at his phone.

“Have you ever heard of ‘helping a friend in times of need’? Oh right, they don’t teach you that in whatever school you attend for toxic people.” Joshua retaliates and allows a smile to form on his face when he notices Mingyu’s grimace.

“Toxic or not, your girlfriend - sorry, fiancé - still preferred me over you.”

“Listen here, you fucking bastard-” Joshua grabs Mingyu by the shirt, bunching up the fabric in his fist.

“Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that here. Don’t wanna bring back bad memories from Venice, do you now?”

The older man grunts and lets go, quickly looking around to check for any prying eyes.

“That’s what I thought as well. Now, if you don’t mind, I must get my makeup done for the shooting.”

Joshua runs his hand through his hair, nervously pacing back and forth. The current situation isn’t in his favor at all and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. He absentmindedly opens his phone to check the time and his heart sinks when he notices a few unread messages from you.

soon to be wife: i miss you

soon to be wife: i know you don’t want to talk to me rn

soon to be wife: but i hate everything without you

soon to be wife: i’m so sorry shua

“Goddamnit, Y/N…..” He mutters under his breath and shoves the phone back into his pocket, focusing on the task at hand - mainly pulling through this job.

To his surprise, the photoshoot went way smoother than he anticipated. But what surprised him the most was the sheer professionalism Mingyu exhibited during the shooting. It was as if he was working with one of the most composed models he has ever seen - a sheer contrast to his repulsive demeanor.

The model was willing to follow any directions Joshua threw at him, resulting in perfect photos for the magazine issue and a round of compliments from the staff.

No matter how smoothly everything went, Joshua felt like he wanted to physically puke. With each passing moment, he could feel himself suffocating and wanting to scream on top of his lungs. How could all these people be so easily fooled by Mingyu and his act? How does he always get away unscathed, despite the public stunts he pulls every now and then?

Just…..how?

He wordlessly disassembles his camera, carefully placing each component in their designated spots in the box.

“Wow, that’s one hell of a camera case,” Mingyu comments with a low whistle right behind him, “Must have cost a fortune.”

“Didn’t really make a dent in our bank account, if that’s what you want to know.” Joshua replies monotonously.

“Our bank account?” The model repeats with curiosity, fueled by his desire to mock the man in front of him.

Slip of the tongue. Fuck, Joshua curses within. He shouldn’t have said that, let alone in front of Mingyu.

“Aw, it was a gift from your beloved fiancé. How sweet of her.”

“Yeah, it was. Are you happy now?” 

“Me? I was just making small talk.”

“For someone who is an expert at changing facades, you’re being an awful liar right now.”

“You’re so perceptive, aren’t you, mister Hong?”

“What do you want from me, Kim?”

“A good look on your pathetic face. And I got plenty of them.” Mingyu grins like a wolf.

“How miserable must you be to find joy in ruining people’s lives?” 

“Way less miserable than you right now.”

Joshua scoffs and turns his back on Mingyu, walking away in disgust.

“Bet that’s how you walked away from home when you found out about Y/N.” 

Joshua flashes a middle finger behind him and leaves the studio for good, picking up the pace to reach his car.

As soon as he gets in the driver’s seat, he exhales shakily, body slouched in the leather seat and the camera bag discarded in the passenger’s seat.

“God fucking damnit,” he almost yells and punches the wheel, the skin on his knuckles turning red because of the impact.

Out of the blue, the phone rings and Joshua pulls it out of his pocket, grimacing when he sees your name on the screen. Without a second thought, he turns down your call and puts it back where it was.

soon to be wife: shua please answer the phone

soon to be wife: your mom called earlier 

soon to be wife: i told her you were busy with work but i don’t know for how long i can stall things

soon to be wife: can you please stop by home? we really need to talk this time

He thinks that you’re lying this time too, but part of him wants to go home and see what this is all about.

“Home, huh…”

He fastens his seatbelt and turns on the engine of his car, gripping the wheel with determination.

Let’s go home, then.

You sit on the couch, quietly drinking a cup of tea. Ever since Joshua left the house, everything seems lifeless, the guilt eating you from the inside day by day.

The phone call by his mother was another nail on the coffin - you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth about breaking her beloved son’s heart. So, you did what you’ve been doing so well since Paris.

You lied to her.

You lied about the marriage preparations going well, you lied about you and Joshua doing fine, you lied about everything.

You check your phone in hopes of Joshua answering your texts, but nothing has changed. Not that things would change so easily, but delusions aren’t always bad.

Suddenly, you hear the front gate of the house opening and the familiar noise of your fiancé’s car entering the parking lot. You rush to the window, parting the curtains to confirm the source of the commotion and your heart skips a beat.

He came…. He really came!, you smile to yourself and back away from the window, rushing to the door. 

Right before you put your hand on the knob, the door unlocks from the outside and Joshua walks inside with a neutral expression.

“Welcome home, Shua.” You greet him fondly.

“I take it you’re doing well, since you’re greeting me so happily.” He responds dryly.

“I- I’m just happy to see you again.” You nervously rub the side of your neck.

“Yeah, sure.” He scoffs.

“I mean it, Joshua. I’m glad you’re here.” You look him straight in the eyes.

“Cut to the chase, please. Did my mother actually call?”

“Of course she did! Around twelve o’clock-”

You notice the lack of trust written all over his face and your shoulders slouch down.

“....You thought I lied to you, didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me, Y/N?” Joshua crosses his arms, “You were lying to me for the past months, why would I believe you now?”

“But I’m telling you the truth!” You desperately defend yourself.

“Okay then. Let’s suppose that you are indeed telling the truth. What did my mother tell you?”

“She asked me about the marriage preparations and if I need any help from her.”

“Well, that does sound like her.”

“She also said that she wants to fly over and give me a helping hand, but I told her that we have everything under control.”

“Is that all?”

“No, she also asked if she could speak to you, but I told her that you were out for a photoshoot and that she wouldn’t have to bother to call you, because you always turn off your phone during work.”

“Believable enough, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Shua.”

“Don’t expect any sympathy, Y/N. All of this is happening because of your actions.” He reminds you with a stern voice.

“I know! I’m not looking for sympathy, because I am aware of the mess I’ve made!” 

“Then what do you expect me to do?!”

“I just want to ask for your help, to see what we’re going to do from now on!” You yell.

“Oh, so now you want my help?” Joshua laughs bitterly, “The audacity is fucking real.”

“Joshua, please, this isn’t just about me!”

“You know, it’s really funny how you just remembered ‘us’ in this relationship.”

You swallow thickly, the tension ramping up with each passing second.

“Tell me - After everything you did to fuck me up and this beautiful thing we built after all the shit we went through in Venice, why would I even want to help you out?”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m asking you to sit down for a while and see where we’re standing!” You raise your voice again.

“Have you considered the possibility of me not wanting to do that?” He deadpans.

Your heart drops in your stomach and a tear rolls down on your cheek.

“Then…. Why did you even come here?” 

“That’s a pretty damn good question.” Joshua replies, wiping away a stray tear.

Silence befalls the lounge as the two of you stand across each other, unable to put your feelings in words.

“One week.”

“What?”

“One week. In one week, both of us should have sorted out our feelings and come to a conclusion,” Joshua proposes.

“I accept.”

“I wasn’t finished, Y/N. Until then, none of us should contact each other, for the sake of avoiding situations like this one.”

“Fine by me.” 

“I’m glad we could agree on this.”

“Yeah, I guess….”

“Um, I should be going now,” he announces and walks towards the door.

“I-I’ll see you off.” You rush to open the door for him and his eyes fall on your hand, noticing that you’re still wearing the ring he gave you.

“Stay safe, Y/N.” 

“You too, Joshua.” You give him a small smile and watch him go to his car, leaving shortly after.

You abruptly close the door and burst out in tears, sobbing loudly in the middle of the empty house. Your knees turn to jelly and you collapse on the floor, tears flowing uncontrollably. 

The last time you saw Joshua looking at you with such disdain before coming to an agreement was back in the Venezian police station.

And it tore your heart to pieces.

Serves me fucking right, you think and wipe your face with the back of your hand.

Your phone rings and you force yourself to get up and pick it up, but as soon as you read Mingyu’s name, you wince in disgust.

“What do you want?” You ask with irritation.

“Whoa, not the nicest tone for a pretty lady, is it now?” He 

“I’m not in the mood to flirt with you, Mingyu.”

“A shame, because I am in such a good mood today, especially after seeing your pathetic fiancé.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he was the emergency replacement photographer for my photoshoot today. You should have seen his face when-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You curse at him with gritted teeth.

“Okay darling, now you’re being mean-”

“I said shut the fuck up! And don’t even try contacting me again.”

“What, had a change of heart all of a sudden?” He chuckles.

“And what if I did?”

“Your loss, sweetheart. You’ll eventually come around.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They always come around for seconds. You’re no exception to the rule.”

“Fuck you.” You spit and end the phone call, instantly blocking Mingyu’s number and any other means he has to contact you.

“Every rule has an exception, asshole.” You mutter to yourself and put the phone down on the table.

Perhaps Joshua wanted to tell you about this encounter, but his pride didn’t let him do so - quite typical of him. Maybe it was for the better.

At least now you’re certain of what needs to be done. Of what you want to get done.

The rest is up to Joshua’s judgement.

[yilingpatriarchscvnt]

Paper Ring (Part 2)

"I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings."

Gekko X M!Reader

Summary: A popular boy with terrible grades, a less popular boy with straight A's.

Highschool au! Almost all characters are high-school student,Reyna is gekko's older sister, brimstone is M!Reader's father figure (adopted sigh).

"Please tutor me!"

"Why the hell should I? Rip-off Eminem."

As Y/N held kita in his arms, he couldn't help but glance back at the boy behind him. He had turned away at this point and was walking in the opposie direction to him, but y/n could still see his tall, softly muscular and well built figure, his green hair and oversized jacket he was wearing to shield himself from the cold. Something about him seemed familiar to y/n but he just couldn't put his finger on it. The boy shrugged and walked faster to prevent getting cold.

Y/n glanced up at the sky, seeing a blanket full of stars and a cloud of breathe whenever he breathed. it was the beginning of february. "hey kita, for valentine's day want to spend the day together?? I'll buy you all your favorite snacks~" The cat simply meowed and nuzzled into him further. He looked down at ther and chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

once he got home he set kita down on his bed, causing her to snuggle into the blankets. He smiled, awestruck by the fluffy creature in front of him.

Y/n got distracted by the non-stopping buzzing in his pocket. he took it out to see a messae from his best friend, jett.

Windbuzzer or something

Jett

y/n

y/nnn

y/nnnnnnnn

RESPOND OML

Y/N

Y/N

miss girlie chill </3

Jett

I CANNOT CHİLL

DAMN.

Y/N

what got you so frustrated and excited at the sametime

Jett

Not very fond of this boy but have you seen gekko's instagram post?

Y/N

Gekko? that one rip-off eminem? the disgusting slug hair colored dude?

Jett

More like the "hottest" dude in class

ugh, I dont know why all girl and boys love him.

ANYWAYS-

İT'S A PİC OF A CAT THAT LOOKS LİKE YOURS

Jett sends a screenshot of gekkos post; a white fluffy cat on the ground with the caption saying "who's cat is this? I want it."

Y/N

Huh

HUH

WAİT

THAT LOOKS LİKE MY CAT

Y/N

Oh shit.

I have some stuff to tell you I guess.

Jett

HUH?

wtf

wdym

Y/N

HA

I'll tell you at school

I am sleepy.

Jett

NU UH

HEY

RESPOND

Y/N

DAMN İT

I'LL CHOKE YOU TOMORROW.

♥

Y/n glanced back at his fluffy cat sleeping peacefully on his bed, he looked at the instagram post again, that was definitely his cat.. that mean the boy his saw was gekko? mateo? or whatever they call him. the popular guy in his class, loved by everyone and famous on instagram by his looks and vines and pics. as far as y/n knows he only wastes his time by going to parties he bet that rip off eminem studied once in his life. No wonder why he had the worst grades in class.

Y/n smirked at his cat. "Youre famous huh buddy?" he put his phone in the charger and joined his cat to sleep. "Tomorrows gonna be pain in the ass.." he yawned feeling hiseyelids getting heavier and fell asleep after some minutes.

---

I woke up with a ringing in my head, I felt like someone was calling out for me. "Y/N I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DONT WAKE UP I AM GONNA BOMB YOUR ROOM." I opened my eyes quickly and oh fuck we were late. I ran up to my window seeing a... furious Jett stomping her feet on the ground as she shouted to me.

"H-Hold on! Give me just 10 minutes!" I tried to get past through my messy room to find my uniforms. "And you have audacity to ask for minutes?!?" This time she was in front of my door.

"I'm sorry, after spending half of my time trying to find kita I got so tired." I grabbed my bag and looked at the mirror fixing my hair before leaving the house.

It was already 08.18 am and we were running to the school. "I- Ah! HOW DO YOU RUN SO FAST?!" I said through my breathes. We speed up as she hold my hand dragging me, "YOU STILL HAVENT TOLD ME HOW YOU CAT ENDED UP WITH THAT EMINEM!"

"Do you think this is the right time to tell the story?!?" We stopped at the school gate, taking a few breaths before entering. As soon as I stepped someone held my shoulder.

A tall tanned figure with... oh. "Y/N? Right-"

"Get away, you egg shaped head." I instantly turned my head dragging Jett with me to the class. But no ofcourse that boy was following me "I need help with my lessons, please tutor me!" I stopped.

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 4: The Question

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Tensions rise as time in the bunker drags on.

Read chapter 4 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

“Come on man, get up.”

“What’s the point?” whined Spencer.

“The point is that muscles start to atrophy after 3 days of inactivity, and you have been holed up on that disgusting mattress for… what… like a week and half now? Longer than you should’ve been,” said Derek.

Spencer groaned. “I’ve been a bit sick, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Which is why we’ve left you alone, but you’re so goddamn shaky and thin you’re starting to resemble a chihuahua. You need to keep active, or you will just get sicker. That’s true for all of us,” he insisted.

“Come on, it’s simple calisthenics. No worse than you had to do at the academy,” said Emily, entirely too chipper.

“I hated doing it back then, too,” he said. “I would really rather never move again, thanks.”

“Of course you want to sleep all day,” said Derek. “It’s called clinical depression, Reid. It’s what happens when you replace your brain’s ability to self-regulate pleasure with heroin. You’re gonna be all fucked up for a while, but you’ll level out eventually. And you know what’s proven to be one of the most effective treatments for depression? Exercise! So get your ass up,” he ordered, nudging the mattress with his foot.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just don’t complain when I pass out after 5 minutes,” he said, dragging himself up.

The last thing he wanted was to be roped into an extended conversation about the questionable state of his mental health.

“I’ll consider it 5 minutes well spent,” Derek said, reaching a hand down to help him to his feet.

Emily corralled them all into two lines while JJ placed herself at the front of the room, ready to lead the workout.

“Frankly, I’m with you, kid,” Rossi whispered, looking pointedly unhappy about the whole situation.

“Shut it,” said Emily.

Hotch smirked. “Pick your battles, boys.”

“Just you wait until it’s my turn to run the class tomorrow,” said Derek, positioned feet shoulder width apart and ready to go in the front line with Emily. “You’ll be begging to go back to this moment”

Rossi and Spencer both whinged, but they shaped up and did their best to mirror JJ’s movements when she called them to attention.

Spencer did not pass out, but he did make it almost precisely 5 minutes before having to very rapidly excuse himself to go throw up. After a few retches, he collapsed back onto the floor of the tiny en-suit, half curled around the toilet.

Rossi ducked his head in. “You doing alight? Need some help?”

“Just… just let me lie here for a minute.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you?” he persisted.

“Get back in here, Rossi!” ordered Emily.

With a swear that was barely concealed under his breath, he left Spencer to languish on the floor.

A few minutes later he hauled himself out and retook his place in the group. Nobody said anything, but Derek had an annoyingly self satisfied smile. He only made it through another few exercises before he had to stop in earnest, but, as loathed as he was to admit it, he felt a tiny bit better. Emotionally, if not physically.

Emily, JJ and Derek all sat by him. Rossi had first dibs on the bathroom to wash his clothes and Hotch… well, he was sitting cross legged on the far side of the room meditating.

Spencer didn’t know if he was actually meditating, or if he just wanted to be left alone.

He’d warmed up to them all since they had been in the bunker. In fact he was almost warmer and friendlier than he had been when they were all still close. Or, maybe not friendlier, but gentle somehow, in a way Spencer had never seen him be with anyone but Jack and Beth before.

Still, he kept a distance from them. Even when they were talking, he could feel the invisible wall.

Not that Spencer was judging. He had plenty of his own walls.

“I know you feel like garbage, Spence, but you’re doing a lot better,” said JJ, looking pleased.

“Better than what?” he scoffed.

“Better than when you were pumping your veins full of dope every day,” suggested Derek, lying on the floor in front of where Spencer and the girls were siting, clasping his hands behind his head casually and putting his feet up against the wall.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, a flash of irritation at the lackadaisical attitude. “That’s an interesting philosophical debate. Do you really think I’d be worse off high in my apartment than soberly held captive by an Unsub?”

Derek tapped his foot thoughtfully. “I think, and correct me if I’m wrong here boy genius, those are not the only two options in the world.”

“Please, Morgan, if we make it out of here alive will you teach me how to be as virtuous as you?” he said sarcastically.

“Enough, both of you,” said Emily when Derek leaned his head up to argue back. “Spencer, stop scratching, you’re going to get an infection.”

He looked at her quizzically for a split second before realizing what she meant. He had been scratching at his arms without even noticing. He stopped, slinging them both over his knees instead.

The most recent track marks were scabbed over and the extra sensory sensitivity after withdrawal was making them itch like crazy.

It’s funny how quickly he’d gotten used to them seeing him like this. He was still in his singlet and pajama pants most of the time, the long sleeve shirt functioning more as a pillow than an item of clothing these days.

The others were the same, with everyone comfortably sitting around in their underwear when waiting for their clothes to dry. They’d all spent enough time in hotel rooms together over the years not to be precious about that sort of thing.

None of them even balked at the track marks anymore. They’d gotten used to them. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

He’d always hated having to hide and having them be so delicate about the subject of his addiction, but now they were infuriatingly direct. Far from walking on eggshells, they were stomping as brashly as they pleased. Especially Derek.

It was really starting to piss him off.

That might have been because literally everything was pissing him off since detoxing.

He tried not to feel too bad about it. He wasn’t the only one who’d been a bit snippy. The complete absence of privacy and personal space wasn’t doing any of them any favors.

“Can I ask you something?” asked JJ, catching his eye.

He sighed. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

A beat. “You can ask.”

She looked him up and down. Emily was glancing between them, and Derek had cracked an eye open.

“What happened two years ago?” she asked gently. “Why did you start using again?”

He was surprised it took them this long. He’d been waiting for them to interrogate him on the subject since the second that goddamn note was read out.

This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. It wasn’t one he knew how to have.

“Nothing happened,” he said softly.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Addicts relapse, JJ. An estimated 88% of all heroin addicts relapse within 1 to 3 years of quitting. I know you all think I’m different somehow, like I’m supposed to be smarter than that. That’s not how it works.”

He didn’t mean to sound harsh, but even he could hear the bite in his voice by the end. There was a little part of him that resented them for even being surprised at his relapse, as if there was something about him that precluded him from that kind of indignity. It was misdirected and he knew it.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” said JJ defensively. “If you don’t want to talk about it just say so.”

Before he could apologize to her, Derek chimed in with, “It’s what I’m saying.” He sat up. “You’re right, Reid, you are supposed to be smarter than this.”

“Thanks, Morgan. Invite me to the ceremony when they give you a Nobel prize for fixing the opioid epidemic.”

Derek folded his arms and continued as if Spencer hadn’t said anything. “You didn’t choose to be an addict, but you did choose to do it alone. If you hadn’t cut yourself off from all of us when you relapsed, we would have helped you. You chose to keep pretending everything was fine while it spiraled out of control. Every time we talked, every time you visited, I asked you what was happening in your life, and you chose to lie. For someone so goddamn smart, you've been making a lot of incredibly stupid choices.”

Hotch had opened his eyes and Rossi had re-emerged from the bathroom still holding a soapy, wet shirt in his hands.

Spencer and Derek had both stood up and Spencer wasn’t even sure when they’d done it.

Emily didn’t intervene this time. Apparently, they were doing this.

“You’re right, I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t want it now!” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Through gritted teeth he said, “I am grateful to you all for getting me through withdrawal and I am sorry I put you through that. Can’t that be enough for now? We clearly have bigger problems than this.”

“No.”

“No?” he said indignantly.

“No. Why won't you talk about this? What could you possibly have to say that’s worse than what we already know?” Derek demanded, volume rising with every word.

“I don't want to talk about it because I know what you want me to say! You want me to tell you that if we get out of here I’m going to get treatment and go to meetings and pinkie promise I’ll never use narcotics again,” Spencer said, matching his volume and emphasizing the words with a wave of his hand.

“The only thing I want is for you to tell me the fucking truth!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do! I don’t care how bleak it is, just for one fucking second be honest about what you want!”

“The truth is I don’t want to do this!” shouted Spencer. “If I had heroin, I would shoot up right now, right here in this fucking room while you watched. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t want to be fixed!”

“Why not?” yelled Derek.

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily. Spencer had been staring directly into his eyes for far longer than he would normally be able, fueled by adrenaline.

He caught glimpse of something behind the anger that in another circumstance he might have missed.

Helplessness.

Oh.

Derek wasn’t mad.

He was terrified.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

Spencer stared at him, opening his mouth but not finding any words.

“Why don’t you want us to help? Why don’t you want to be fixed? What the hell happened to you?” pleaded the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother. “What’s your plan when we get out of here? You wanna go be a junkie, dead in a year? You had 15 years clean, man. Why are you doing this?”

His eyes burned, moisture pooling in the corners. Why? Why was he doing this?

What answer could ever satisfy them?

The air between them filled with poisonous silence.

Out of the silence came a voice, too small for him to make out the words. Derek held his gaze, fighting tears of his own, but asked to someone to the side, “What did you say?”

“It wasn’t 15 years,” said JJ, louder this time.

Another shiver of panic worked its way down Spencer’s spine.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Derek.

“He said ‘times.’ When we first got the note. He said we weren’t there the other times he went through withdrawal. Plural.”

Fuck. Why could he never just say the right thing?

Derek squared off, lifting a hand to wipe under his eyes. “JJ’s right, isn’t she.” He wasn’t shouting anymore. When Spencer didn't answer, he took it as all the confirmation he needed. “Was it after prison?”

He shot a brief look off at the others, silently urging them to step in and save him.

JJ wouldn’t look at him. She looked small. He never wanted to do this to her.

Hotch was eyeing him like he was trying to solve the puzzle of what bits of Spencer Reid had been irreparably broken in his absence. Prison had certainly done some damage that couldn’t be undone.

He looked back at Derek. “No. That was… It was hard, but no.”

“So, when?” he asked, cocking his head, waiting for Spencer to give him something concrete to fight about.

He looked back at JJ, who still wouldn’t meet his eye.

She already knew.

“Oh no,” said Emily softly, putting it together. “It was after I faked my death to hide from Doyle.”

He was torn between Derek and JJ, and all the other people in this room who his deficiencies kept hurting.

Their fight after it was revealed that JJ knew Emily was alive had almost destroyed their friendship. In retrospect, he understood she was doing the best she could with horrible circumstances, trying to protect Emily.

He also knew, equally certain, that he would have told her. If the situations were reversed and she came to his door, crying, grieving, on the verge of a breakdown, he would have told her.

She knew it, too.

He was aware that she still held tightly onto that guilt. He regretted so badly the way he’d treated her when he first found out. He never wanted to tell her this. Never.

He turned away from Derek, who was still staring at him like he’d ripped his heart out of his chest.

“JJ, please talk to me.”

He stepped forward, putting his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, red eyed and exhausted.

“You told me you didn’t use. You only thought about it,” she said, sounding numb. “I believed you. Except… I think I just wanted to believe you.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her into a hug. She held onto him tightly. “You did the right thing back then. My actions weren’t your fault.”

The moment was over as quickly and horribly as it began when the chamber on the door banged.

Of course this interruption couldn't have come minutes earlier when he desperately needed it.

A gloved hand reached in to deposit a brown paper bag.

Derek was slow to react, not running to the door in his usual effort to ingratiate himself to their captor through one sided conversation.

When nobody moved, the interrupted outbreak of truth and consequences weighing them down too heavily, Hotch stepped towards the door.

He moved slowly, deliberately, as if one muscle twitching out of place would set off a bomb. Spencer wasn’t sure where he thought the explosion might be coming from.

When Hotch opened the chamber and extracted the brown paper bag, he stared at it. Not moving, just staring down at the thing he was holding, presumably filled with more fruit. Nobody else moved. Nobody spoke.

In one swift and vicious action, Hotch flung the bag across the room!

Fruit scattered over the concrete in a colorful arc. An overripe peach splattered on the far wall.

They all flinched at the sudden act, but before anyone could talk, Hotch had rounded on the camera in the roof with its infuriating, endlessly blinking red light.

He spoke low, dangerous. “When we get out of here, and we will, I’m going to kill you myself. Forget life in prison, I will put you down like a fucking dog.”

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, not realizing he’d been holding it. JJ was gripping his arm tight enough to cut off circulation. He let her. The room was cavernous, quiet, oppressive.

Hotch clenched and unclenched his fists. Emily stepped forward, mouth open, a hand outstretched towards his shoulder but not bold enough to actually touch him, yet he pulled away from her as if she had.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. He took in a ragged breath, scrubbing his hands over his face, then lowered them. This time, calmer: “I’m fine.”

He looked around the room at the scattered fruit. With another deep breath, he bent down and started gathering it up. Emily stepped forward to help him.

Spencer, JJ, and Derek exchanged looks. Spencer knew they would not be dropping the subject forever, but for now they settled on an agitated, embarrassed truce. Well, Spencer was embarrassed. Derek might just have been agitated.

Had he really said, out loud, that he would shoot up in front of them if he had to? He was almost certain he would actually follow through with that given the choice. There's almost nothing he wouldn't do to get high at this point. Withdrawal and being stuck in the bunker had only made his cravings stronger.

He had certainly not intended to tell them that, though.

The three of them broke away, moving to help Hotch and Emily. JJ grabbed the paper bag for them to consolidate the food, while Derek moved to clean the peach that was dripping down the wall.

As Hotch dropped his handful of citrus and apples into the bag JJ was holding, he paused. The rest of the room paused too, waiting to see what he would do.

“It was my call to keep everyone in the dark about Prentiss. It was cruel to put that on you.” He looked around at the rest of them. “It was cruel to all of you.”

“You did what you thought was right,” said Spencer. He locked eyes with JJ. “Both of you did.”

Hotch eyed him off, picking him apart in a way that made Spencer want to bury his face in his hands like a little kid, desperate not to be seen. He resisted the urge.

“You still don’t believe it was the right call,” said Hotch eventually, a statement not a question.

Spencer frowned. “No,” he said honestly. “But I know you believed it. That’s enough for me.”

Hotch shook his head. Clearly, it wasn’t enough for him.

Emily looked between all of them, grey hair falling oddly prettily over her shoulders as she swiveled her head. “I mean, if we want to play the blame game, it’s really my fault for keeping you all in the dark about Doyle,” she pointed out. “Or Doyle’s fault for creating the whole mess. We can go even deeper. In a round about way, it’s really my mother’s fault I got into intelligence in the first place. We can all blame my mother! Trust me, it’s one of my favorite pastimes. It’s cathartic. Go ahead,” she encouraged.

Derek laughed. Even JJ cracked a smile.

“I really dislike your mother, so this is compelling,” deadpanned Hotch.

Emily chuckled. “Yeah, she hates you too buddy.” To the room at large she said, “I know we’re all going a bit crazy in here, but everything we’re feeling has to be secondary to the ultimate goal of getting out. I’ve been thinking about that, and-”

“Emily,” said Rossi, wet, half-washed shirt sitting discarded on the floor, forming a puddle.

Spencer hadn't even registered that he hadn't spoken or helped with the cleanup, caught up in the interpersonal drama as he was.

Emily looked at Rossi quizzically.

Spencer’s blood ran cold. It was crumpled from having been tossed across the room with the rest of the bag’s contents.

Rossi held a folded piece of paper in his hand. With it, a photograph, the edge of which was just sticking out between the folds. He offered it to Emily. “Sorry,” he said sympathetically. “Looks like you’re up.”

[pubbybutch]

May I request Vex, Pike, and Keyleth with a GN S/O who is kind of an idiot? Like they're stupid strong but if something complex is being discussed you can just see the thousand yard stare and the stupid grin as they imagine themselves doing literally anything else? And, being more brawn than brains, they have to bail them out of their bad plans. Who wants to fist fight a dragon? I DO!

VOX MACHINA X Dumbass (affectionate) Reader Head Canons

Thank you very much anon for your ask, I’m sorry this took forever! 💚💚💚

Vex 

Vex always knew that the lights were not all on upstairs, and she knew it would bite the entirety of Vox Machina in the ass. 

The first night she really realised how extreme your lack of common sense is, has you pitted against two half-orcs with some ties to some big thing in Wildemount (you didn’t quite catch whatever it was they said), two against one and with both your opponents skilled and highly trained fighters the outcome was plainly inevitable.

 So now here you sit, slumped over a chair, Vex rubbing your back soothingly her deft hands easing your breathing as you recover from being winded, a fierce punch to your stomach having completely squished the air from your lungs and was that pain in your side a broken rib? 

That's the first time Vex really notices. But now she knows how your mind works or perhaps doesn't work, she just sits and waits for you to fuck up enough to call to her for help or to fall onto the stool next to hers.

After ANOTHER repeat of your shenanigans, she ends up recruiting Vax to aid her in carrying your exhausted and very passed out body up the stairs of the parties tavern of choice and getting you situated on a bed.

Vex opts for the windowsill. She always does when this happens. Letting you take the bed to hopefully help in the recovery process and lessen the effects of tomorrow’s guaranteed hangover. 

Sleep doesn't come easy as Vex jolts up at every unconscious groan that escapes your lips as you turn in your sleep and pain popping up due to the movement. You dumbass, of course you wouldn’t win. Complete dim-wit, her dim-wit.

Keyleth

Looking on at the mess that you had managed to create in the kitchen of Greyskull Keep was exactly when her suspicions were confirmed. Suspicions may not be the right way to describe it, despite how much has flown over her head in the past Keyleth was nearly certain that you were as reckless as… well something that was big and reckless and maybe just a little bit idiotic. 

And the penny finally dropped in her mind.

She has often tried and failed to hold you back from a fight after someone (usually some pretentious elven dickbag) bad-mouths her in the street, resulting in a fight that can only be described as completely avoidable.

Keyleth supports as much of your weight as she can when you get knocked out, attempting to get you out of the fray as quickly as possible, but she can barely drag the two of you behind a crate in a side alley.

You can almost always count on coming back to consciousness while Keyleth is doing her best to stop the swelling on your eye and trying to make sure your not bleeding internally.

She is so goddamn concerned for you, please stop scaring her like this.

Pike

At this point Pike accepts that anytime you head out for a day of merrymaking (aka getting fucking black-out drunk in a tavern or two) she’s gonna be exhausted and have no spells left before you even get to sundown.

When you go unconscious, which is only inevitable, Pike always beelines towards you regardless of what is going on around her. Ignoring or brushing off any hits she may get in the process, she tanks through to get to you as quickly as she possibly can.

Even if she gets down to her last little cure wounds you can be guaranteed that she’ll save those spells for you if she can (much to the dismay of one Scanlan Shorthalt, his grumbles and annoyed mutters of ‘those should be my spells…’

As soon as you’re stabilised and safe-ish, you’re slung over her shoulder and Pike clangs her way through the destruction and chaos of the street-turned battlefield outside the pub, pushing past and far enough away so that you’re safe. Ignoring the shouts of Percy's pained yelps as his pepperbox explodes in his goddamn hands and Minxie doing her best to swipe a giant paw across someone’s torso, Pike always tries to get you outta there if she can.

Avoiding resurrections is of utmost importance when it comes to her sweetheart.

[hauntedwizardmoment]

Before the beginning for the ask game!! Any story you like in particular!!

yayyyy just gonna make this an excuse to write a quick thing about jace in college. i got kinda carried away fkklsdgdjf

There are so many reasons why Jace shouldn’t be here. 

He has to be up at 8am for Grimoire Development tomorrow. He hates going to Titania’s, it’s the worst bar on the strip of bars that opposes the Arcane Arts Institute’s campus, but it’s the only one that doesn’t have a cover charge. That must be why they’re still in business, because it’s definitely not the atmosphere. 

The live band sucks, the lead singer can’t hold a note, warbling through a cover of some atrocious alt-rock song. He takes a swig from the amber-colored bottle in his hand absentmindedly and chokes on the bitterness. Gods, it’s gross. Not just the beer; the floor is littered with dented plastic cups, his nice new boots sticking to the linoleum with every step. Everyone around him is sweaty and covered in a thin film of grime, the air smells like cigarettes. 

He glances around, finding that his stupid soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend ditched him, like an asshole, even though he’s the one that dragged Jace out here. And now he’s stuck wearing his stupid leather jacket over his stupid band t-shirt alone in a crowd full of people he doesn’t care about impressing. He looks ridiculous, he feels ridiculous, and he wants to leave. 

A Misty Step, and he’s outside, in the alley behind the bar. It’s freezing; he can feel the cold air through the rips in his tight black jeans. He checks the time on his crystal: 1:24 AM. The exhaustion hits him like a ton of bricks, what a waste of a night. 

He’s about to Teleport back to his apartment when the back doors swing open and a tall goliath stumbles outside, falling flat on his ass against the brick wall. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jace asks, offering a hand. 

“‘M good,” the guy slurs, trying to get up and failing. “Swear.” 

He needs to sleep if he wants any chance of being able to make it through his classes tomorrow. He has no idea who this guy is, or if he’s a serial killer, or… 

The goliath heaves, vomiting onto the pavement, head lolling miserably. He’s been there.

“I can Teleport. Where do you live?” 

Large, beautiful brown eyes brimming with tears look up at him. There’s a pause, before the guy says “my keys,” and hands him his keyring, a metal tag on it reading If lost, mail to Dagbert Machtiger, 1290 South Cinderroot Lane, Apartment 306

Jace takes it, grateful to have an associated object as he Teleports them to an apartment that’s moderately less shitty than his own, with a plastic-looking couch and small coffee table in the middle of a tiny living room. The goliath sinks into it, slurring out a “thanks, man,” before he passes out. 

He leaves the keys on the coffee table and lets himself out, checking his crystal. He’s not too far from his place, about a half mile. If he’s quick, and he doesn’t stay up the rest of the night, he can be in bed by 2, then be mostly ready for class tomorrow. 

His crystal rings as he’s taking the stairs down to ground level, and he answers it without thinking. “Hello?”

“Jacey, did you leave already?” His definitely-getting-dumped-tomorrow-boyfriend asks. “You wanna head back to mine? You can stay the night.” 

He knows what that means. He’ll be staying up for another hour, at least, and it won’t even be that good. Ugh, he shouldn’t be fucking around like this.

“You know it,” he says. “Meet you there.” 

He shuts his crystal with a clat and sighs. Tomorrow. He’ll grow a spine and start saying no to these things tomorrow. He swears. 

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

The new kid is red-faced and wheezing by the time they make it up the hill. It ain’t even half as big as the one over by Chuck’s place, but by the way Teddy is huffing and puffing, you’d think he’d’ve run up and down it a dozen times.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He ain’t fat, not even close. He probably ain’t a smoker neither, considering most six-year-olds aren’t, but he’s sure breathin’ like one. Maybe this is why Ms. Rainer was fixed on him seeing Teddy home from the bus stop. Somehow she knew, just by looking, that there’s somethin’ off with this one.

As Teddy heaves for air, his backpack slips free from one shoulder, but he shrugs it back on and keeps dragging his feet through the gravel. His house is visible now, set too close to the road so it’s a muted dusty gray under all the gravel dust. The dust swirls in the wind like a toddler playing at being a ballerina after too much sugar, making the leaves dance along to the rasp of the corn stalks shifting and swaying in time.

Nash hesitates on the porch as Teddy throws open the storm door and pushes into the house without a backward glance. When he doesn’t close the door behind him, Nash follows.

Inside, Teddy’s ragged breaths are louder, helped along to Nash’s ears by the uncovered wood floor. He follows into the kitchen where the yellowy linoleum pops and crackles underfoot in the places where it’s bubbled up.

The drawer beside the sink opens with a screech of wood as Teddy pulls out an inhaler, puts it between his lips, and sucks in a long, deep breath. With his eyes closed and his face screwed up, he lowers the inhaler and holds his breath for a long, long time. Then he exhales, wipes his nose with the back of his hand, tosses the inhaler back in the drawer, and rams it shut before turning to face Nash with his chin tipped up proudly.

“All the things.”

“Huh?”

“You asked what’s wrong with me,” Teddy says in a reedy voice. He pauses to breathe. “There’s a lot wrong with me.”

“Oh. Are you… sick?”

Dying is what he wants to ask, but he’s been whacked in the back of the head enough to know better.

Teddy shrugs. “Not right now, but maybe tomorrow. Wanna play Pokémon?” He flips the lid off of a sagging women’s shoe box on the table and reveals a treasure trove of Pokémon cards.

“Woah, those are all yours?”

He pulls cards out by the handful. “Yeah, my mom and dad used to buy me a pack every time they had to travel.”

Nash stares, mesmerized, as Teddy rifles through the cards like he knows what he’s looking at—all the colors and creatures and elements—it’s overwhelming.

“They must travel a lot.” He can’t imagine what that’s like. The farthest he’s ever been from Deliverance is the Walmart in Buford Hills, the next town over.

“Used to. They’re dead now, so…” He keeps messing with the cards. Like it’s nothing to him. Like he doesn’t care. Like his face isn’t scrunched and his shoulders aren’t boxed around his ears.

If he wasn’t so visibly uncomfortable, Nash would think he was trying to make a joke. He doesn’t know what to say, so, out of pity, he puts his backside on the line and asks, “How do we play?”

He’s gonna get an ass whoopin’ for being home late, but it’s almost worth it for the relieved smile that overtakes Teddy’s discomfort as he babbles about types and strengths and weaknesses.

Nash settles himself opposite him at the table and silently bemoans his inability to ignore the kicked puppy types.

Red, like my bleeding heart in your hand - Sign up for my newsletter to get publishing updates!

[new-berry]

would you ever write xavi simons? and who with?

I did! With Alejandro Balde, apparently friends from academy days. (Pic under the cut as well)

“Fuuuuuuck,” Xavi says. His hair is all over the pillow and his cheeks are sweaty. He says it savagely, like it’s a whole sentence. “Why the fuck haven’t we done that before?”

Ale could say lots of things to that. Most of them circle around to “you weren’t ready”. Or, “you didn’t see me.” But instead he says “can we do it again?”

Xavi when he turns up to him has a wild gleam in his eyes matching his manic smile.

“Up.” He says succinctly. “Off me. On the bed.”

Ale groans, there is a noise almost like Velcro pulling apart or something when Xavi wriggles on his chest. He meant in a while, tomorrow maybe. He wanted Xavi close for a bit, heartbeat to heatbeat with his head bumping against Ale’s jaw.

Xavi is perched on his knees. “Lie on your stomach,” it’s an order but the breathless want in his voice is so obvious Ale isn’t offended.

Xavi puts his hand on his hip the other right at the top of the cleft in his ass, “wait, this is cool right?” Ale pillow his head in his elbows. “Course,” he scoffs. Looks over a bit to see Xavi biting his lip. He turns back around when Xavi drags his fingers down, the catch running his finger around his rim and “lube,” Ale groans out.

“Huh? Yeah.” There is shuffling around and it too much, spilled over him he guesses, the pads of two fingers pressed against . “This okay?” Xavi sounds desperate and not the least uncertain. “Yeah,” Ale tells him. It’s a bit of a burn but he’s all loose and relaxed from coming already.

“You’re better at this than me.” Xavi’s voice sounds accusatory. Xavi closes his hand tight around his hip. “How many people have you done this with?”

Ale has no intention of telling him, ‘not that many, none that looked like you,’ if he was ever going to say it out loud.

“You’re doing good,” is what Ale gets out, “stick your fingers further in, just, tilt them up a bit.” Xavi’s fingers in him are stiff, held rigid.

It’s probably half an accident when Xavi leaning down to nibble across his ear leaving Ale breathless and curling his toes in. “How many though?” He shifts like he’s going to shrug and it gets Xavi’s fingers in just the right spot. His answer comes out as a moan and he can feel himself relaxing more around Xavi’s fingers.

“Fuck,” Xavi’s mumbles into his shoulder. “Gonna fuck you. Okay? Okay.” Xavi answers for him, he does in plenty of other things so Ale is okay with it.

“I’m okay with it.” He tells Xavi.

“Well yeah,” Xavi him. “We could have been doing this forever,” he whispers. Ale would answer, he means to but Xavi stabs his fingers inside him and it feels so good that he just moans again.

“I’m not using a condom,” Xavi tells him. “I don’t have anything and you aren’t having anyone else,” Ale means to disagree, Xavi’s always been ridiculously possessive but instead he says “we’ll see.”

Xavi’s yanks him up onto his knees. Ale wants to burst out laughing. Xavi’s hand is sticky on his hip and and his stomach still has Xavi’s come on it from the first time they did this. An hour ago he had no idea what Xavi, his Xavi tasted like, how his tongue felt, clever and fast in his mouth. Now he knows how his cock feels a blunt head that causes a burn that spirals out into sweetness.

And this was at the bottom. One of my three hundred openings that didn’t make it.

He goes for guys that don’t look anything like Xavi. It would make it weird. Not like there aren’t a thousand options.

He doesn’t, not often. Easier with girls. But it’s weird to go out with someone a few times and look at their faces and know they are dreaming babies and wedding rings. He doesn’t even know them.

[broken-clover]

SolAxl sick fic I need it

Certainly! Love these idiots. Using the fire magic again because I'm sorry I just like using it for cute things. I'm put at a bit of a loss for scenarios like this because I don't think Sol can get sick unless I dig really deep for something but I will not resist the chance to knock Axl around a little bit. I promise I still love him, I just like putting him in Situations

Putting it under the cut + content warning for vomiting

-

Sol waited for the sound of lurching to stop before he knocked on the door. “You still alive?”

“‘Preciate the sympathy, chief. Feelin’ real touched, here.” A groan seeped through the slit at the bottom.

He resisted an irritated groan of his own. “Gonna puke on me if I come in?”

“I mean, I got half a mind to-” The groaning turned into a tired sigh. “Nah, ‘m all done, pretty sure. Don’t suppose you’ve got a napkin or somethin’?”

“There’s no paper towels in there?” Sol crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

After a moment, he could make out the sound of shuffling. “Shit. Yeah, you’re right, it does. Been stuck with my head halfway down a toilet for twenty minutes, ain’t exactly been looking anywhere else.”

“Dunno why you’re trying to justify it to me, I don’t really ca-”

It should not have been a surprise, but as soon as he opened the door, Sol was hit with an awful, rancid smell. Goddamn Gear senses, only time he ever seemed to notice them these days was when it was a pain in his ass. Axl’s pitiful expression only slightly dampened the scowl on his face. 

“Evenin’, chief.” He greeted him with a sarcastic two-finger salute. “What brings ya out here on a night like this?”

“Funny you should ask. Was just supposed to have a night of drinks, then some dumbass started throwing up on everything.”

“Way to kick a bloke when he’s down.” Axl shook his head. He took a stack of paper towels as they were handed to him and started mopping at his face. “Got most of it toilet, tried m’ best.”

“Don’t tell that t’ me, tell it to the sods that’ve gotta mop this place.”

His companion merely groaned again, wrapping a free hand around his ribs. “Dunno what the hell got me, ain’t had anything this bad in ages.”

“Knowing you, it’s probably just a hangover.” Sol said.

Axl gave him a halfhearted scowl. “Oi, oi, I’ve had enough hangovers ta’ know what a hangover feels like. This ain’t it. Somethin’ going round? Hell, maybe the fish from yesterday, knew it tasted too chewy…”

The man’s hands shook as he tried to clean. Reluctantly, Sol grabbed his own stack of towels and knelt down to assist. “Reeks enough, either way.”

“Yeah, sorry, mate. Not exactly my idea of fun either.” Both men continued to clean. As he attempted to turn and wipe a spot on the wall, Axl suddenly jerked back and whimpered, cradling his ribs. “Ugh, fuck. Worst part ain’t even the puking, it’s the damn soreness. Can get the taste outta my mouth, but just my luck this is gonna hurt ‘til tomorrow.”

Sol stopped. He threw the paper into the trash can. “Screw it, they can clean the rest of this shit up, they actually get paid.”

He dragged Axl to his feet before he could argue, only offering the slightest restraint to avoid fucking up the man’s insides any more than they already were. 

“Chief-”

“If y’ throw up on me after all, I’m gonna leave you here.”

Despite his gruffness, they made it back to their room without much fuss. Axl shed his stained shirt and only remembered to kick off his shoes at the last moment before flopping into bed. Sol toed them out of the way and perched on the bedside. “Move.”

“Eh?” Axl glanced over his shoulder, one arm still wrapped around himself. “Figured you were gonna head back down for a couple more rounds, I was just gonna try ‘n sleep this off.”

“I know you’re gonna bitch about it all night unless I do something about it. Scoot your ass over.”

Confused, but obliging, the man squirmed until he was closer to the other side of the bed, leaving enough space for another person to slip in. That didn’t mean it was the most loose fit either, though. As soon as Sol made his way into bed with him, they were forced chest-to-back against each other with only a couple of inches in spare space. Sol was not a particularly small man, nor was he one to try and downplay that fact. 

Axl could feel the heat radiating through cloth. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but something about it right then felt far more compromising than it usually did. It was hard to think of a better position, given how things were. Would trying to roll over be more or less awkward? Hell, could he even get that far without elbowing his bedmate in the face or making himself throw up again?

A hand draped around his waist. That wasn’t as familiar. Sol didn’t give him enough time to be confused by it, though, as he dragged his fingers upward. He traced lazy circles into the man’s belly and up his ribcage, summoning just the smallest hint of fire magic to make it feel like a heat pack against his skin. The motion had pulled the two of them even closer than they already had been, with Sol curving along with the slope of his spine and radiating even more heat against his back.

“You ain’t worried about getting this, too?”

“Gear-powered immune system. It’ll just bounce right off.”

“Ain’t you a lucky sonuva- mhhhh…” Axl suddenly sighed, placing one hand atop Sol’s. “Right there, riiight there. That’s the spot.”

[boyakishantriage]

Based off this.

@artale07

Start of my new writing chapter. Sneak peak of the future bit.

She lit her cigar. Laughing at the childish young man.

"It ain't gonna be easy little man. You really love her?"

Leaning against her chair, the man's hands wringing as he gave his response.

She leaned even further back. Dropping her feet on the table as she sighed.

"It's been five years. Assuming she even holds the same. Heh, sure. Vacay permitted."

"... that's it?"

"uh, uh uh. Before you go propose to your girlfriend. Sorry. Best friend you've kissed and admited feelings to repeatedly before running to work with me."

She laughed, throwing the knife into the dartboard beside her. Sliding his badge over to him.

"wear that wherever possible. You're one of us. Or at least a friend."

Twirling her cigarette. She laughed into the winds.

"Next. Ever seen the little mermaid?"

"..."

"Course you did, part of your endurance training. Simple enough. Break her heart, break his bones."

Sliding a contract over to him, the words blurred minus the contract statement. A formalized statement stating such. Looking to the second lieutenant, to be corporal, she glanced out the window.

"Fish Sticks will arrive tomorrow. 0400, leaving by 0700. That's your ticket out, unless you wanna waste half on transporting you slim ass to Oregon from what's functionally the middle of Arizona."

Sliding the dismissal notice to him, permitting his discharge from active service as a reserve force.

"Shit goes down. You drag your ass here."

He nods, taking the slip and badge as she calls out.

"oh and one more thing."

"yes ma'am?"

"make it three."

"..."

"Anything... happens to the girl that's not hurting her, but she will if sacrifices aren't made. Well, you're a smart boy. Second, clean yourself up. Relax . You're heading home."

Tossing a bag of sweets at the man, she winks at the man.

"oh. And, here's your wallet. Phone. Pant button, zipper, belt. And diary."

Sliding the items across the table, his pants dropping to the floor as each item struck against his bony legs. And his di-

"OW."

"Pay attention second private. Don't wanna lose your dick before you do it down. Now OUT."

"... Excuse me ma'am?"

"I said, get out my office."

*... Did you just suggest I'm going-

Firing her revolver above his cranium, now aimed at his dick she barked out the order.

"OUT. LET ME READ MY PORN IN PEACE."

The door slammed behind him. That was... normal??

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

So it turns out the last time I thought I got sick was a false alarm, and the real deal is only starting now, two weeks later :,) (rambling under the cut, some health stuff etc no mental health tho just physical)

FUCK I JUST TYPED OUT THE WHOLE THING AND THEN ADDED THE READ MORE AND IT DELETED EVERYTHING. i hate it here

Anyway. I completely forgot everything I put in that ramble, which is amazing. Anyway yeah I’m sick and what’s really messing with me is the fact that I’m really dizzy all the time? I don’t think I’ve had this happen before. I don’t have a fever, I feel super feverish but I almost never get fevers anymore (last time I did was over a year ago when I had the flu and covid at once, jackpot, and I’ve been sick super often this last year. Funfact my sense of taste is still messed up from back then in that things will taste much sweeter to me than the average person. Tap water is sweet. Potatoes are sweet. Everything is sweet. I almost never add sugar to my deserts because it’s overwhelming and also it keeps me in a constant state of lowkey dehydration because tap water is all I drink and I can’t stand the taste of it anymore because it tastes sweet. Back then I went for two and a half days without drinking and honestly idk how or why no one dragged my ass to the hospital back then but anyway. I figured out that warm water with a spritz of lemon juice is the only thing I can stomach when I’m sick, no honey or tea, nothing so that’s fun)

Yeah I also feel weirdly nauseous all the time? Like. My stomach hurts a little but I can eat normally, but then I randomly get super nauseous out of nowhere, but nothing ends up happening. Weird stuff. My throat hurts, my head hurts, everything kinda hurts, and yeah. The lemon water is making my throat hurt worse but tbh I’m not going the dehydration route again so we gotta pick our evil. Tomorrow I have my first driving lesson in the complete darkness that I can’t cancel, so that’s gonna be fucking fun

I also notice how my joints are hurting worse when I’m sick? Like this has happened a few times before because my joints are kinda fucky but I’m definitely noticing it right now, my knees are like begging me not to use them lmao 😭

Actually I’m also gonna do a covid test now and might put the results here later hehe anyway yeah

Update test is negative so there’s that at least

[fruitcoops]

Spark

On the eighth day of Nutmas, fruitcoops gave to you: smut from the firefighter AU!

TW smut (duh)

Name your time.

Tonight?

You better not be on-call tomorrow morning, ‘cause you’re making me breakfast.

Deal.

Remus fisted his hands tighter in Sirius’ jacket, an involuntary moan slipping out when the hand tucked neatly in his back pocket flattened him along Sirius’ front. The apartment did smell a little like smoke—Sirius had sheepishly warned him of that in the car—but it was gentler than the acrid thing he had worried about. More like a candle, warm and inviting. It was the same invitation as Sirius’ soft mouth on his own and the rough palm cradling his face, big enough that Sirius could stroke gently over Remus’ temple and make his knees wobble.

“Bedroom?” Sirius murmured into his mouth.

Remus bit at his lower lip. “Actually, I could go for a glass of water.”

Heavy silence fell between them. “Oh,” Sirius finally said with audible surprise. “Okay, uh, yeah, let me turn the light on—”

“I’m kidding,” Remus interrupted with a light laugh, pulling him back in by the neckline of his shirt. Sirius ducked into the kiss as if on instinct; the thought made him smile as he nudged their noses together. “Lead the way.”

But Sirius didn’t let him go right away, keeping them up against the wall like there was nothing he’d rather be doing. They had hardly made it into the apartment, still frazzled from the charged 20-minute drive followed by a hurried clash of lips in the elevator. Remus could feel the hot, hard line of him on his thigh, just as he had imagined on a few of his lonelier nights.

Sirius was less suave than his daydream-self, not that Remus was complaining—for the shelter dogs, he had stammered out when a large box shifted in the back seat, pink-cheeked and endearing. I bring them toys. Balls ‘n shit. It had taken every bit of Remus’ self-control not to lean across the console and kiss him stupid right there.

Sirius’ hands wandered down to his waist and he began walking Remus backwards through the apartment in long strides. “Ignore the mess,” he said into the underside of Remus’ jaw, sounding just as sweetly embarrassed as before. “My little brother stayed here for a bit.”

“We’re not—ah—kicking him out, right?” Remus bit the inside of his lip as Sirius’ teeth grazed his pulse point.

“No,” Sirius laughed. “He’s with a friend. Nobody but us.”

“Good answer.” Remus tangled his fingers in the back of Sirius’ hair and pulled just enough to make him moan like he had in the car, when they had lunged for each other the moment the ignition died. It had hardly taken any effort to get Sirius to melt under him, then. His mouth watered at the thought of getting to do it again.

“C’mere,” Sirius said around a smile. The hands on Remus’ hips moved down to grab his thighs and hoist him up; he locked his legs around Sirius’ waist instinctively as heat flashed through him.

“Worst way to carry someone out of a burning building,” he managed breathlessly.

“Best way to carry someone to bed,” Sirius countered with a not-so-subtle squeeze of his ass.

Remus arched a brow. “Thought hooking up with a fireman got me the full experience.”

“If you want me to get all sweaty, you’re gonna have to try a little harder.”

“Oh, I will.”

Sirius’ eyes darkened. “Promise?”

Fucking hell. Remus squeezed his thighs tighter and felt Sirius’ groan buzz against his mouth; his lips were getting chapped already when Remus sucked at the lower one. The back of his shoulder collided with the wall and his noise of surprise was muffled by Sirius’ kiss, though a mumbled oh, fuck, sorry and the ghost of a gentle hand over the bump made his stomach tumble.

Sirius took him by the thighs again and Remus let himself be tossed on the bed, only to hook his heels behind Sirius’ knees and drag him down to be kissed some more. He slotted a leg against the half-hard bulge in Sirius’ jeans and savored the noise that spilled from kiss-swollen lips. “You want it like that?” he purred, rocking lightly. Sirius made a choked sort of sound. “Use your words.”

He grinned at the withering look Sirius shot him and laughed as he was wrestled further into the sheets, making sure to buck up whenever possible. Couldn’t make it too easy for him—they hadn’t even gotten to the fun part yet. Remus reached back to yank his shirt over his head and basked in Sirius’ helpless oh, followed by warm hands mapping his torso. Pleasure made his blood sing and he stretched with a low hum, gripping the pillow under him as Sirius rubbed at the dips of Remus’ hips.

“You’re…where has this been?” Sirius managed, sounding baffled beyond belief.

Remus chucked his shirt into the darkness and guided Sirius into a slow, filthy kiss that made his cock throb in his jeans. “Just admit you weren’t looking,” he whispered into the corner of Sirius’ mouth. He felt his knees spread further on the mattress and pleasant heat curled in his belly.

“I was looking,” Sirius answered hoarsely. A shaky breath escaped him when he moved his hand to lay flat over Remus’ stomach. “Not hard enough, apparently.”

“Were you?” Remus asked, delighted. He gave one inky curl a playful tug and Sirius blushed. “Cutie.”

“I am not a cutie.”

“Cutie pie,” he cooed, running his thumb over Sirius’ lips. They parted almost instantly. Thought so. He let Sirius have a taste before sliding it out again and coaxing him down to kiss his neck. He was awfully good at it, after all. “Want me to blow you, or skip straight to the main event?”

“Anything that will get your pants off,” Sirius said, words muffled in Remus’ collarbone.

“That’s where you’ve been looking, huh?”

“Your ass in those cargo pants,” Sirius groaned. His hands slid under Remus and lifted him an inch; the firm grasp on each cheek made him squirm. “Perfect handful. You kill me every time.”

“Someone likes a man in uniform,” he teased.

“Look who’s talking.”

Remus hooked his index finger in Sirius’ belt and pulled. “Off.”

“You know, I usually give the orders,” Sirius said even as he sat up and began unbuckling.

“Sure you do.”

“I do. This is—I’m the captain of my squad. I don’t like listening to people.”

Remus nodded agreeably. “Definitely. Shirt next.”

“This is an exception,” Sirius informed him through the fabric of his shirt, abs shivering as Remus walked his fingers up to his sternum. His cheeks were pink when he finally managed to free himself. He took a breath, then a second, and pointed at Remus. “That’s the last order you’re giving me tonight.”

“Take your pants off, captain.”

Sirius’ hands were already at his zipper when he paused and leveled an unamused look on Remus. “Dirty trick.”

“All I did was ask.” He slipped his fingers into Sirius’ belt loops and yanked him down until they were chest-to-chest again, nudging his crooked nose. He prayed Sirius couldn’t feel his pounding heart. “You seem awfully happy to listen to me. You follow instructions that well for all the boys?”

It took a moment, but Sirius slowly shook his head.

“No?”

“No.” It was hardly more than a whisper.

Remus leaned in to ghost his mouth over Sirius’ stubbled cheek. “Just me, then. Pants off.”

Sirius rummaged between them for a moment before had was able to kick his well-worn jeans away, pressing close enough to Remus’ hips that he could feel the dampness gathering at the tip of his cock through his boxers. “Want me to—”

“Shh.” Remus cupped the side of his face in one hand and watched Sirius’ lashes flutter, nearly brushing his cheekbones. He was so pretty it hurt to look at him, sometimes; between the delicate angles of his face and the absolute tank of his shoulders and thighs, Remus didn’t even know what to do with himself.

But this…this was an interesting development. He had based all his daydreams on what he knew of Sirius: bold, biting, a bonfire ready to smolder on to whoever got close enough. Remus knew he could be vulnerable—had held his hands through more than one bad call—but somehow he just hadn’t expected that to be Sirius in bed.

He found that he liked him even more this way.

He bent and kissed the top of Sirius’ head, just next to his hairline, and felt him shift. “You want to get off on my thigh?” he asked, only half-joking. Sirius made a noise of protest. “Then take my pants off.”

It was like he had told Sirius to unwrap his favorite candy on Christmas. He was up in a heartbeat, clever hands divesting Remus of his jeans faster than he could bark a laugh. “Fucking finally,” Sirius grumbled as he smoothed his hands up Remus’ flanks in a hard push. “Took you long enough to ask.”

Remus didn’t have time to quip back before there was a mouth on the outline of his cock, sucking lightly at the root of him while the breath punched from his lungs. Sirius stroked over his inner thighs for a moment before pressing them apart, giving himself more space to work as he laved his tongue over the slit of Remus’ underwear until the fabric was drenched. Only then did Sirius look back up with mischief in his eyes, teeth teasing at the elastic waistband. “You do want my mouth, don’t you?”

Fuck you, Black, you know I can never back down from a challenge. “You think you’re that good?”

“Oh, Moonpie,” he said, almost sympathetic if it weren’t for the gleam of a grin. “I know I am.”

Remus thudded his head back into the pillows as Sirius licked a broad stripe from his balls to his tip before pulling his briefs away and taking the first three inches of him like it was nothing at all. A throaty moan ripped from somewhere beyond Remus’ consciousness at the sudden, slick warmth—he twisted his hands in the pillowcase and tried not to thrust into Sirius’ mouth. Not yet. Best to let him get adjusted.

Sirius showed no sign of needing adjustment, though, sucking him down with an enthusiasm Remus usually reserved for a popsicle in the dead of summer. He hummed when Remus planted his feet flat on the bed for leverage and lifted him up with the hands on his ass again; the new angle let him go deeper and his mouth fell open when he felt Sirius’ throat against his tip. “Oh my god—”

Sirius dragged him up again when Remus tried to back away, breathing hard through his nose. His pupils were dilated, eyes flashing. It was too much to handle with the riot of sensation vibrating up his legs, so he tilted his head back again and let Sirius take what he wanted.

He was sloppy and yet incredibly precise, a combination that should not have worked and somehow did anyway. His tongue moved with no discernible pattern, but by god did it move. Pretty lights popped behind Remus’ eyes when Sirius’ tongue found the underside of his cock and his hand flew out to wind in his hair again. “Yes,” he begged. “Yes, fuck, Sirius, keep going.”

Sirius made a pleased noise and doubled down. The sound of his mouth sliding up and down Remus’ shaft was unholy and obscene and entirely too perfect. The pressure and suction were just how he liked it—Sirius’ tongue was a menace like this just like when they traded quips—he’d be there if Sirius would just—

Remus sucked in a gasp when Sirius pulled off to suckle at the tip, and on the first press of his tongue to Remus’ slit, he was done for. He spilled into Sirius’ mouth with a bitten-back shout, thighs trembling on either side of his shoulders. “ ‘S good,” he panted when his jaw finally unclenched. “ ‘S really good, Sirius—fuck.”

The fuzziness of his vision crept in around the edges as Sirius kept working him with a softer mouth and a loose hand around his base, as if he was trying to get every last drop out of him. The thought made Remus squeeze his eyes shut. Getting hard again this soon was bound to hurt.

Sirius licked his lips when he pulled away. “Nice boys let a guy know when they’re about to come.”

“…sorry.”

“You’re a paramedic, aren’t you supposed to be worried about my breathing?”

“Off the clock.” Out of my mind.

“Are you just going to lay there all night and make me do all the work?”

“Fuck you,” Remus groaned, batting at the nearest bit of him.

“Other way around.”

“Hmm. No.”

“No?” Sirius laughed. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

Remus wound his leg around the back of Sirius’ thigh and flipped them before Sirius could finish his yelp; the bed creaked in protest, headboard shuddering at the sudden weight change. He sat back in Sirius’ lap and looked down at him with an indulgent smile. “Don’t pretend, Sirius. You’re smarter than that.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth twice before his brows furrowed in indignation. “I’m not pretending,” he blustered, though Remus could feel him starting to squirm. “I told you, I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.”

“You like it when I tell you what to do.” He rocked backwards until Sirius’ cock settled nicely against his crease and watched his throat bob. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said shakily.

Remus nuzzled into his cheek. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You want to be good.”

A whine broke halfway out and Sirius’ neck turned blotchy with embarrassment. “Maybe.”

“Yes or no. No ‘maybe’s in a house fire, captain.”

“Yes, please.”

Remus had to close his eyes at the rush of blood southward. He usually didn’t care about positions one way or another, but the plea in Sirius’ deep voice made something in the back of his mind froth at the mouth. He left an openmouthed kiss where he had worked a hickey into Sirius’ neck earlier and tucked his overgrown hair behind his ears. “Give me the lube.”

It was in his hand in half a second.

“Condom?”

“I’m clean, tested last month, a lot of shifts since,” Sirius said in a rush of words.

“Me, too.” They didn’t have to say it—they had spent far too many nights over the past three weeks sharing microwave meals and prime nap spots during the grueling 24-hour calls, past the point of giving a fuck when Leo or James would raise a suggestive brow in their direction. In that way, Remus supposed this had been a long time coming.

Or perhaps a short time coming, he thought as he swiped his fingers over Sirius’ tip, where he had soaked through his boxers.

“Is that for me?”

“Remus, I swear to god,” Sirius said rather desperately.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, scattering a few kisses over Sirius’ face before tugging his boxers away. And, Christ, yeah, he was exactly as delicious as Remus had imagined. Remus had a game plan for tonight already, but he would not protest getting fucked six ways to Sunday with that sometime soon. He wanted Sirius all over him.

He got to have it, too—Sirius remained pliant under his hands as he opened him up carefully, cataloguing every noise that slipped from Sirius’ mouth and every twist of the wrist that would make his thighs tremble. Remus covered him in kisses like he had wanted to do for months, now. By the time he sat up and slicked himself, Sirius inner thighs were thoroughly painted with lilac and plum.

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius panted when he began to press in, handsome face scrunching up at the initial pressure before relaxing into bliss. His knees pressed inward to Remus’ hips, silently urging him on. “Yeah, Re, a little harder—oh.”

Remus buried his moan in the crook of Sirius’ neck as the last few inches of his cock were encased in a vice grip. He ground forward without pulling out and Sirius keened, fingers digging in just below his shoulder blades; he felt the scratch when he repeated the motion and prayed there would be marks to admire.

“Shoulders,” Sirius said, delirious even to Remus’ pleasure-dulled hearing. He made a broken noise when Sirius bit at the crest of one. “Your fucking shoulders. You can lift me.”

“Mhmm.”

“You could—you can lift Kuny?”

“Sure.”

“You could—you—” He whimpered as Remus started up a steady rhythm. “This is so much better than what I pictured.”

Oh, thank god, I’m not the only one. “Tell me,” he requested, though it came out as more of a demand. Sirius didn’t seem to mind as he writhed and bucked into every thrust.

“This,” Sirius said, tossing his head with a gasp when Remus angled upward. Remus bit his lip and aimed for that spot every time, unable to tear his gaze from the smile gracing Sirius’ lips or the flush of his neck. His voice was rough and low, buzzing deep in his chest. “Wanted this so bad. Knew you could do it. Couldn’t ask. Wanted to get my mouth on you forever, wanted you to fuck me until I couldn’t think, wanted you to push me, you always push me, oh shit keep doing that!”

He was burning now, and rapidly building up a sweat while Sirius scrabbled for a hold on his back and smokey moans fell from his mouth with every snap of Remus’ hips. He draped one of Sirius’ thighs over his arm and felt himself pulse at the strangled shout that rewarded him—Sirius was thrashing now, chest heaving, his free leg shaking uncontrollably where it tangled with Remus’ own.

“Sweetheart.” It was out before Remus could think twice. Sirius’ mouth fell open and precome smeared over his lower belly. He cursed under his breath and pushed Sirius’ leg closer to his chest, deepening every thrust until the smack of skin on skin drowned out everything else. “You’re such a sweetheart, I can’t fucking handle it,” he breathed. “All you want is to be good for me, right? That’s what you want?”

Sirius nodded frantically, reaching back to grip the headboard. Outside, the red-and-blue lights of a passing police car flashed over his face in a pattern they both knew too well.

Remus pressed deep and held there, pulling another cry from Sirius as he sucked a mark into the dip of his pec. So many nights spent running from their days at the firehouse, sharing silent understanding under loud laughter and teasing jabs. Sirius got it. Sirius understood. Paramedics had a stereotype as the bicycles of the EMS world—everyone gets a ride—and Remus had never tried to fight that, but he knew this was different than giving the bangin’ firefighter from Station 8 a night to remember. This was Sirius. His friend. His confidant.

“Need it,” Sirius said, voice thick around each syllable. His back arched when Remus thrust forward again, cock twitching where it laid neglected on his stomach. “Need it, Re, need you, please!”

Remus had been wanted so many times that he forgot how good it felt to be needed. The difference was more than he expected. He let out a harsh breath in Sirius’ collarbone and guided his face over for a bruising kiss, tasting his moan. “I’m here,” he said as he nibbled at Sirius’ lower lip and felt him cry out. “I’ve got you, c’mon, come for me. Do it for me, Sirius, you’re my sweetheart—”

The next shout edged on a sob as Sirius jerked in his arms and went boneless, shuddering through his orgasm before Remus could get a hand around him. He seized again when Remus gave him a firm stroke to wring the last of it out, coating his knuckles in white. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he ordered when Remus started to pull out. “Keep going, need it inside.”

The words echoed in Remus’ head as he thrust in a half dozen times and spilled into Sirius with a shattered sound, and then his thoughts went entirely blank.

Sirius was petting his hair when he blinked his eyes open again. He stared at the familiar slopes of a bicep before peeling his cheek off Sirius’ chest; his face heated at the dryness of his lips and the damp patch left behind. Sirius sated expression told him he didn’t mind one bit.

“We’re doing that more,” Sirius informed him with all the confidence Remus had come to expect from him, rolling them onto their sides with a happy hum.

“Oh, are we?” Remus laughed.

“Frequently, in fact.”

“What happened to Mr. ‘I Only Top So Don’t Even Think About It’?”

Sirius stretched like a cat in the sun, looking just as content. “On vacation with the rest of my brain. Remind me why we haven’t been doing that since forever?”

“Coworkers.”

“Different departments.”

“Same calls.”

“Don’t you dare try to talk me out of this.” Sirius gathered him up to his chest with a playful growl. “You’re not going to give me an orgasm like that and then expect me not to keep you.”

Remus froze halfway through biting his collarbone in retaliation. “Keep me?”

There wasn’t a trace of anxiety, or shyness, or any of the endearing awkwardness he had come to adore on Sirius’ face. “Was thinking about it,” he said with a cheeky shrug, running his thumb down the bridge of Remus’ nose. “You’re awfully cute.”

Remus’ heart hammered in his chest. The hope in his gut warmed, oxygen on dormant embers. “Keep me?”

Sirius hesitated, and there was the crease of worry. “If you don’t want—”

“Keep me.” It wasn’t a question anymore. Remus took a shaky breath and laced their fingers together on the mattress between them. “Keep me.”

Sirius’ next kiss was gentle and sugar-sweet. “I can do that.”

[bbrissonn]

doing everything in your power to not let owen leave for practice, like jumping on his back while he's tying his shoes, stealing his clothes so he has to chase you around the house to get them back, kissing him everywhere, making him 20 mins late

under the cut!

warnings: not proofread

"love, i really need to go." owen said as you pulled him back down into bed. his practice was starting in about an hour and a half, and he had to leave.

"no you don't. you need to stay here and cuddle me!" you whined as he finally pushed himself up completely. only you came right along with him since your arms were wrapped around his neck. you smiled at him before wrapping your legs around his waist and shoving your head into his neck.

"babe, you know i'd love to, but i really, really, really have to go."

"nooooooo."

"yesssssss."

"i'm gonna be late."

"so?" you asked, making you sigh a bit, he started moving around his room, taking his clothes that he was planning on wearing out, with you still hanging onto him. 

“y/n, i really need to go.” 

“shhhhhh.” 

“y/n--” 

“you’re disrupting with silence, bubs.” you whispered, making him let out another sigh. his hands reached down to your thighs, he tried unwrapping them from around his waist, making you let out a whine. 

“stop it!” 

“you stop. babe, you need to understand that if i’m late, i’ll be back later than usual. you’re losing cuddle time right now.” he said, making you let out a gasp. now when he put it that way, it sound a lot worse to you. 

“but you could just stay here forever, then we won’t lose cuddle time because you don’t even leave!” 

“then we’re losing cuddle time for tomorrow.” 

“nu-uh, i said you stay here forever. the coaches can’t make you stay longer if you don’t go.” 

“then i’ll be kicked off the team, babe.” 

“so? more cuddle time for me!” you said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“if i get kicked off the team, my moms gonna drag my ass back home and i won’t be able to see anymore.” 

“ouhhh, we could be like romeo and juliet--” 

“hons, that’s not the point. i have to go to practice, okay? i’ll be back in 4 hours max, you won’t even realize that i’m gone.” he said as you pulled your face away from his neck, looking into his eyes. 

“but cuddle time--” 

“we can cuddle after, y/n/n. we can even go out for dinner if you want. just us. no one else.” he offered, something he knew you could never refuse. 

“fine. but i want extra cuddle time this weekend.” 

“works for me.” he said, pecking your lips after. you slowly let go of his waist, making your legs hang around. he placed you down and you slowly let go of his neck as well. 

“i’m sorry, love. i’ll be back soon, okay? i love you.” 

“i love you too, o.” you answered with a small smile before he left the room, clothes in his hands.

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