#you know they were not lying about that lightheadedness

[mysuperiors]

CW: Non-consensual sex.

Your friend’s cousin, Mark, was part of the bachelor weekend trip to the beach house. The first night was a bender and you were way too tired to go out on the boat with everyone else the next afternoon.

“Oh man, you sure? We’re gonna be out there a few hours?,” your friend Nate, the groom to be, asked.

“Nah, bro. Go. I need to recover so I’m ready for tonight.”

“Alright, man. Feel better. Mark is feeling it too. He’s staying behind. Take turns throwing up,” he laughed.

Great. Stuck in a house with a guy you met 18 hours ago before getting blackout drunk.

You went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. The house was quiet, so you got your book and lay on the couch to read. An hour went by and you realized you hadn’t heard a thing. Was Mark going to wake up? Was he even here? You figured you’d check on him just in case. He had to have been asleep for 12 hours by now.

You went upstairs to the room he was sharing with another cousin of his and Nate’s, lightly knocked on the door and opened it. Mark was lying on the bed, completely naked, slowly stroking his cock.

“Oh shit!,” you exclaimed, and quickly shut the door. You heard him laugh on the other side of the door. “Sorry, man,” you called out. Just as you were taking a step away to go back downstairs, you heard him move to the door and pull it open.

He stood there, completely bricked up. “What the fuck man? Where you going? Come back in here.”

It took you a second to process what he said. “Nah, man. I’m not into that. I’m straight. I’m engaged too,” you said taking a step back.

He put his hands on his hips and asked conversationally, “Oh yeah? You and Nate ever swap?”

“What?”

“Bitches.” “Fiancés,” he added seeing the look of confusion on your face.

“What? No, dude. Put some fucking clothes on! I’m going downstairs.”

“Man, I could really use some help here,” he gestured at his dick. “My hand isn’t getting the job done.”

“Fuck this. I’m straight. I’m heading out. Tell Nate and the guys I’ll be back tonight.”

“Whoa! Wait. You can’t leave. They’re gonna ask me a bunch of questions about where you are and why you left.”

“Just fucking tell them… I left before you woke up. I don’t know. Jesus!” You were trying not to look at his bare naked body.

“Listen, man, don’t be a prude. Just come in here and suck it. You never gave a brojob before? College? Frat house shit?”

“Christ! No. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you some fag?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, man! I’m trying to be—”

“Yo I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m leaving.”

Mark took two giant steps forward and grabbed you by the arm just as you were turning to go.

“Get your fucking hands off me, man,” you warned him.

“Or what?”

Without hesitating, you took a swing right at his face, but he ducked and twisted your arm behind your back and shoved you by the neck up against the wall. “Yeah who’s the faggot now, cool guy? Huh? Tell me.”

You struggled, but he had you pinned up against the wall. “Let me fucking go! Get off of me!”

“I asked you a question. Who. Is. The. Faggot. Now.” and he tugged your bent arm farther up your back, sending a piercing pain throughout your shoulder. When you still didn’t answer, he banged your forehead into the wall, giving you an instant unbearable headache. “WHO?”

“Fuck. I am,” you conceded. “Alright? I am the faggot. Let me fucking go now, okay?”

“Nah, man.” Mark breathed. “You just said you’re a faggot and I’m rock hard and ready to cum.”

He slammed your head into the wall again and your vision blurred and you swayed from lightheadedness as he yanked you back into his room and shoved you down face first on the bed. Momentarily stunned, you couldn’t even resist when he literally ripped the T-shirt from off your back. One of his nails caught you and scraped your back, the sharp pain bringing you back into focus as you realized what he intended to do.

“No! Fuck. No! Stop! Help!”

But he grabbed you by the hair and forced your face into a pillow while you screamed. He got right down to your level and bit your ear hard. The shock of that shut you up for a second and Mark growled in your ear, “Shut the fuck up and take this cock like a good faggot. If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to smother you with this pillow. Do you understand? Do you understand that I am serious right now and this is the only choice you have left?”

You were petrified, and given everything that had just happened in the last five minutes, you knew he was completely serious. This jacked CrossFit bro was literally going to kill you. You stopped screaming. Your body was rigid with fear.

“That’s right,” Mark whispered. “Shhhh… nice and quiet. I don’t want you to make a sound, no matter how much this hurts.” He licked your ear lobe and kissed your cheek and forehead. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

You shook your head into the pillow.

“Tell me. Say ‘Yes, Sir.’”

“Yes, Sir,” you choked out through the thick sob that was forming in your throat.

“Shhhh, my baby. If you cry, I’m just gonna fuck you harder.” Mark taunted.

He let go of your arm, freeing it. As you pulled it back around toward your head, the pain was overwhelming. Mark slowly hooked his fingers into each side of your running shorts and boxer briefs, and slid them down, exposing your bare ass. “Nice and smooth,” he commented. He ran his hand over your cheeks, massaging them slightly. He traced his forefinger from the bottom to the top of your crack, sending a not-unpleasant sensation up your spine. Then he slapped your right ass check. “Perfect,” he purred.

He pulled you up on your knees by your hips. You were on all fours, your head pounding, your left shoulder on fire. You felt his knees in between your legs, and then you felt him spread your legs apart with his. You heard a wet sound, him licking and sucking his fingers, and then you felt him spread your ass cheeks apart. He pressed on your clenched hole with his forefinger. He gave it another lick and then began prying you open and working his finger up inside you.

You couldn’t hold back the choking sob. Large tears began to spill out. “Please. Don’t.” you begged between heaving breaths.

“I told you. Be quiet and don’t cry, or else,” he said calmly, and then shoved his finger all the way up inside you, sending an unbearably sharp pain up your colon into your gut.

You gasped and cried out in pain. Mark responded by punching you full force in the side of your gut, knocking all the wind out of you. “I said, be fucking quiet, faggot.”

You heard him spit and a second later you felt a large warm pipe pressing against your anus, pushing its way in, overpowering your sphincter as it tried with all its might to keep the intruder out.

“Don’t fight me, boy,” Mark said threateningly. He pushed his cock harder. You couldn’t withstand the pressure and you felt the muscle give way and expand to let him in. You gasped. My god, the pain. The pressure. You really only got a glimpse at his cock earlier. It was a decent size you had quickly noted, but now inside you it felt gargantuan. 

Mark laughed. “That’s right. You’re mine now,” he taunted. “Fuck. It’s so fucking tight! Fucking hot as fire! I love virgin ass!”

It was slow going at first, and unbearably painful. Your anus was wrapped so tight around his thick shaft that he could barely motion in and out, especially with nothing but a little bit of his saliva as lube. Undeterred, he continued to force his way inside you with each grind of his hips. You could feel him going deeper and deeper. Jesus Christ, how many inches was he? How could he possibly mine your ass any deeper?

Eventually, he was thrusting in and out, adding more spit every couple minutes. He was holding your hips, and you could hear his balls smacking with every thrust. Each one, slamming you a little forward. But with his hands on your hips you took the full impact. He was owning you. It went on and on. How long had it been? Five minutes? 10 minutes? An hour? Six hours?

You were becoming delirious. This wasn’t really happening. You weren’t really on all fours with another man buried deep inside you. This wasn’t your life. Your mind went somewhere else while you were taken by this guy who could not possibly be related to one of your best friends.

Mark didn’t let up. He was picking up the pace and slapping your ass in between grunts of “Yeah, bitch. Take my cock.”

You felt as though you had left your own body. Even though all you could see was headboard and pillows, you imagined yourself watching the scene from the doorway as if it were happening to another person and not to you.

Now Mark was in a steady fast rhythm. You knew he was getting close. Am I about to feel what it is like to have a man cum inside me? You wondered. Is this what the dozens of women that I’ve fucked have felt? Has it been this painful for them? 

Mark began to grunt. Feral. Loud. Urgent. “Fuck yeaaaaahhh, ahhhhh!!!” And you felt it. In an odd way you were anticipating this. Almost looking forward to it, like some grand finale of a fireworks show. A warm liquid was flooding your colon. It didn’t seem like a lot. Was it? How much did he shoot in me?

He kept fucking you slowly for a couple more minutes. Now his dick was sliding in and out with ease, his manly load making everything slick. Mark pulled out and said in an even, commanding voice “Turn around.”

With absolutely no resistance left in you, you obeyed and turned around, staying on all fours.

“Open your mouth.”

You did as you were told and Mark slapped his dick on your inflamed forehead, eyes, and nose before shoving it in your mouth. He took a handful of your hair and said, “Nice and slow. Twirl your tongue around it and lick it clean. Taste my cock. Taste my cum and my spit. Taste your ass. Taste what we taste like together. And look at me while you do it.”

You did as you were told. For the first time you were looking him right in the eyes. Christ, you saw power there! You saw a Man. He was still hard, and his engorged cock filled your mouth. You were enjoying this a little. He had one hand entwined in your hair on the back of your head, slowly guiding you up and down his long shaft. The other hand was on his hip, giving him a powerful and masculine stance as he towered over you, looking down at his conquest. You were enjoying this a lot.

“That’s right. You’re my calm little bitch now. Ready to go get cleaned up? The boys should be back soon.” He pulled his dick out of your mouth and it made a slurping noise as the head passed your lips. You eagerly started back for more, but he gave a little chuckle and pulled his cock back. “No more for now,” he chided.

You placed your hands on his hips and kissed his abs, starting to work your way up. You licked and sucked on his nipple and kissed his chest.

“You’re a good little bitch now, aren’t you?” he smirked.

“Yes, sir,” you said breathlessly, caressing his strong arms.

He hopped off the bed and took you by the hand and led you into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and waited as the water got warm. He looked at you while you ran your hands over his chest and abs and shoulders, in total awe of this new discovery: Man.

The rest of the trip was a blur. You showered. You got dressed. Iced your forehead. The guys came back. You said you fell and hit your forehead. They all laughed and made a joke about how drunk you must’ve still been from the night before.

It wasn’t until you were back home with your fiancé that you realized just how lasting this experience would be. She was eager to get you in bed when you got home, but you couldn’t get hard for her. You passed it off as just being exhausted after a crazy weekend of partying. But you knew the truth.

You spent the next week gazing at the pictures of Mark the guy posted on their Instagram from the weekend. You jerked off to the thought of his perfect body on top of you, plowing you and holding you down with a hand wrapped around your throat.

You weren’t a man anymore. That part of your life was over now. Now you are what Mark made you. You are a bitch. You are a faggot. The only thing you want now is a man’s attention.

All you want to do is kneel, serve, and obey. 

#male worship #forced to kneel #forced feminized #resistance is futile #alpha master #jock bro #alpha jock #ripped #subbmisive #muscle god

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I humbly beg of you, o great dastardly feline bless your loyal servant with some whump 🙇

The crack was horrible.

Simple but loud. Unreal. A body producing a sound like that was anything but healthy. It was unmistakably bone breaking but the hero was smart enough to know the complexity of their body. Muscles and tendons. Skin ripping open, blood pouring — it was all of it, not just calcified connective tissue cracking.

And then, the hero truly felt the pain. Felt how their ankle didn’t want to be a part of their body anymore. They cursed quietly when they were still able to, but they knew it was only a question of time. They knew it would only get worse, would be consistent and never-ending for as long as they were here on the ground.

“Beg.”

Fuck that.

With just as much determination as pain and an awful groan, they turned around on their stomach and pushed themselves up. Their arms shook, blood and sweat mixing on their forehead but somehow, they found enough strength to end up kneeling.

The hero’s nose was bleeding. Their ankle was broken, lying on the ground palsied. Useless.

Nearly unbearable.

They spat on the ground, blood together with saliva.

And then, they grinned.

“Think I can’t take a hit?” they asked. “My nemesis breaks my bones on a daily basis.”

“They also share a bed with you on a daily basis,” the other said.

“You’re really upset about that, huh.”

The superhero looked furious, determined. The hero didn’t know if they were capable of murder. They certainly looked like it but the superhero had also never done it before. They wouldn’t know how to get rid of the body, wouldn’t know how to come up with an alibi, wouldn’t know how to wriggle out of this.

Assault? That was easy. Blaming some villain, saying they were on patrol. A hero getting assaulted wasn’t something new. A hero being murdered was.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“Jealous?” the hero asked, still grinning. The superhero grabbed their jaw, letting their fingers dig into their skin until it burnt, yanking them towards them.

“You don’t get to decide these things. You don’t get to walk around and do whatever the fuck you want.” They squeezed harder, making the hero fear their head was gonna explode. Great. Fucking great. “You do as I say, fucking got that?”

They let go of the hero, nearly throwing them back onto the ground.

“You should be on your knees, apologising. Thanking me for saving your pathetic life. For making something out of you. You’re nothing without me,” the superhero spat.

But the hero could only smirk, laugh as the lightheadedness caught up with them. This was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Who cared if they slept with their enemy? There was no law forbidding it.

“Think you’re a control freak,” they said. “Breaking your friend’s bones—”

Something in the superhero’s eyes went up in flames.

“We’re not friends. You’re mine, fucking got that?” Their tone had changed, had turned more aggressive within milliseconds. The hero’s smile died and their face contorted. Partly from the pain, partly from confusion.

Thank god, the hero saw shadows moving behind them. Either they were going insane or they were extremely lucky.

“Fucking creep,” the hero mumbled and once again, the superhero’s expression changed, as if they were ready to discuss this on a more mature level. As if they were collecting themselves.

“Listen, I’ve protected you all this time. I’ve watched over you like a lover. Because I care. I care about you.” Insane. The superhero was completely insane. “Please, ever since we met, I wanted to protect you. And I have. I have protected you and I always will. Don’t you get it? You’re mine.”

“Burn in hell,” the hero answered. And that was it.

They heard a shot and watched how their former mentor fell to the ground. It was such a relief, such heaven on earth. The hero exhaled for what seemed like the first time in hours. Exhausted and battered, they let their head sink, trying to calm their racing heart.

You’re mine. What a fucking creep.

The villain slipped out of the shadows and tilted their head, curious.

“Crazy fan of yours?” they said, looking at the perfect shot right through the back of the superhero’s head.

“Please,” the hero said. Begged. “Hold me.”

And the villain did.

#I am not my body not my mind nor my brain #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #whump #hero whump

[xuhuihuis]

Bullet in the heart

“Shhh baby, they will hear you”

Kun hushed you by inserting two of his thick fingers in your mouth. Your lips stretch around his fingers, gagging from the weight of them on your tongue. Drool started to drip from the corners of your mouth and down your chin soaking his fingers.

Thrusting deep inside of you making your eyes roll to the back of your head as the pleasure builds up inside of you. Kun’s small bedroom was filled with the sounds of your moans mixed with his and the disgusting wet sounds of your cunt swallowing him deep. 

Taking his fingers out of your mouth letting you gasp out for air before you end up passing out from the lightheadedness. Kun’s middle finger rubbed at your clit slowly at first catching you by surprise, almost collapsing on the bed but his strength held you up.

His arms flexing, holding you by the waist as your legs shake from the pleasure taking over your body. You couldn’t think of anything else but the way his cock was making you feel in that moment. The veins rubbing against you in the right way making you scream out his name. 

He was sick of you talking about your ex everytime you hung out with Kun. The days where you came running to Kun after arguments with your ex boyfriend and he couldn’t do anything about it but hold you in that moment and comfort you. Letting you change into extra clothes he has lying about letting you get comfortable at his for the night.

He couldn't help himself letting his mind wander seeing how you look in his hoodie wanting to take you there and then. When you left him the next day he couldn’t bring himself to wash the hoodie because it smelled like you. The vanilla aroma of your perfume fills his senses and makes his cock twitch.

Over the course of the next month whenever you came over he would have something out for you to wear and when you gave it back to him he would add it to the collection he had in the back corner of his closet. Jerking off to the smell of you when you went home trying not to make a mess of the hoodie that he had up at his nose.

The grip on the hoodie so tight his knuckles were going white as his other hand gilding up and down his cock rapidly chasing an orgasm. Kun always thought of you whenever he could and especially jerking off. He didn’t even watch porn to get off he just got off on the smell of you.

“You are all mine now aren’t you? That stupid bitch has left you alone for good. Finally have this pussy all to myself”

Fucking into you with more force as the pleasure started to get to him making his mind foggy. His grip on you got tighter as his cock rammed into you hitting that spot inside of you.

Kun was gone by this point, the sweat running down his body and he was panting as he was getting you both closer to cloud nine. His hair clinging to his face as he kisses your back sends shivers down your spine. Your muscles give up trying to hold yourself up just letting the pleasure take over and let Kun control your body. 

“No one will fuck you as good as I do….”

He started babbling the closer he got to his orgasm and his thrusts got less precise but still hitting that spot inside of you. The knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, not taking much longer until you are screaming his name letting people know you are his.

You couldn’t hold off much longer as the orgasm took over your body as you screamed into the pillow in front of you hoping it would muffle your moans from the outside world. Panting and shaking from overstimulation before Kun spills his warm seed in you. His deep groans and pants filled the room as you just lay there helpless and unable to do anything as your whole body is numb. 

“My pretty mess. All mine”

#hard hours #k pop smut #wayv smut #wayv hard hours #kun smut

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part 29

Summary: New developments for Enjolras and his girl.

Notes/Warning: 18 & Over! Male receiving consensual handjob. The death of some rats. Mentions of violence.

My sweet angel - mon doux ange, Angel - Ange

❤️, reblogs, comments…feedback…messages are always welcome! And thank you!

You inhaled deeply, the fresh flowers brought a sweetness to the air that reminded you of walking or sitting in the park. It made you miss such days. You sat up against the plush pillows and gave Enjolras a look, eyebrow raises.

“This is a lovely room, truly it is.”

The shades of pink and cream were like something out of a dream. Enjolras, wanted you to have that. The bed gave as he came to sit beside you. “It really came together.”

It had been hard for him to acquire so many things. He had never been one to enjoy excessive spending. Though he knew it was expected of him to appear a man of means. However, making a home with you, and knowing you were with child; it grew easier. You missed being with him and picking out treasures.

“But, but I miss coming out with you. I miss doing things.”

He placed a hand over yours. “But look what has been happening.”

“I only fainted once.”

“Once is too many.”

You could see his jaw tighten.

“And now you are carrying our child.”

“I’ll be careful.”

He glanced around. He spoke just above a whisper. You knew he didn’t necessarily trust the staff.

“England doesn’t sit well with me, my love.”

“I’ll be with you. We, we could go to a market or perhaps a dress maker.” Your gave him a soft look. “They can’t be dangerous.”

“I’ll think about.”

He reached over to the nightstand, he grabbed the book you both loved. He handed it to you.

“Read and travel among the stars with this.”

He paused, a smile appeared on his lips.

“I have secured more candles. You do not have to only read by the light of the sun.”

You didn’t care you, you hugged him then. He shifted in your embrace to put the book down beside the two of you. His arms wrapped around you. You sighed laying your head on his shoulder.

*********

He drank a little more and played cards with a riskier flair.

Before arriving at the pub that night, he finally sent off a letter to his mother. He had pressed the envelop to his lips and then heart before bidding it a safe journey to his mother’s hands. With a twirl of the feather he wrote reams of how the house was coming along and how she was to be a grandmother in the coming months. He did not dare telling her of your lightheadedness or even the fainting spell. No darkness would be out on paper, only happiness and joy.

Now that you were tucked away in the house, in that beautiful room. He felt like he could relax. Now, you be comfortable and grow into your role as mother.

Coins jangled on the wooden table, paper notes of value were shuffled about and ale on occasion spilled along the side of the tankards. Some tightened while others loosened their hold on the cards would deliver a victory or a loss.

Once the moon was high enough in the sky, and his head was filled with the pleasant fuzzy warmth his ale gave him, he returned home. He’d shed his boots and coat and pull you close. He’d be lying if he didn’t miss your quick with or a peal of your laughter while sitting in that pub. The few moments, he had shared you with the company of Courfeyrac or Grantaire he missed it.

Pressing his lips together, he made it back rather easily to where he now resided with you. Not sure if he should be pleased or not, he was able to remain in cloaked darkness of the shadows and managed to make it very easily back up to the lovely bedroom, he made for the two of you.

The door creaked ever so as he opened it, it made him wince and he slipped in and soon moved fast so he could close it as soon as he opened it. Not going far, he soon let his heavy coat fall from him. He loosened some of the buttons on his shirt before leaning against the wall and gritting his teeth he pulled one and the other boot free of his person.

A soft sound floated over to him, where the candles burned low. Glancing in its direction he could just make out as he saw you moving.

“Love? You’ve returned.”

He smiled, making quick strides over to you. “It is I my ange, I have arrived.”

You rubbed in eye and smiled, pulled the blanket aside. “Then I welcome you home my love. I have missed you.”

His heart picked up speed, he knew the curves and beauty that was barely cover by the chemise you wore. Easily, he crawled in, then sitting up and he urged you to curl up to his side.

You looked up at him, your nose gently wrinkled. “Oh? I can smell the ale.”

“In my excitement of winning some hands, I did spill some.” He rose his eyebrows. “Do you forgive me?”

You smiled. “I do.”

His lips curled into a broad smile as he felt your lips just barley grazing a spot on his face where he tamed the growth there.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb caressed you. “You are so lovely.” He whispered. His heart warmed a she could actually feel as you flushed.

“I am glad you still think so.”

He paused, the fuzzy warmth still there but your words stuck him. “I always will.”

“Even when my belly grows with our child?”

“Yes, especially.”

He pulled you closer and finding your mouth, he kissed you then. It had felt like a lifetime. At first, you were hesitant but then he felt as your responded. He held you closer. Your warmth and softness was exactly what he had needed.

As he held you closer, and your hand drifted over him as you moved closer, a groan of deep rooted pleasure bubbled from him breaking the kiss. His stomach had tightened. His pleasure of having you so close had quickened his heartbeat.

“Oh? My love are you well? I have not injured you. Have I ?”

“No.” He chewed on his cheek. “But I have not eyed, your chemise as closely. It has quickened my heart for you.”

“Oh? Is that so bad? I am your wife. I miss being one with you.”

The dip in your voice stung.

“Angel, don’t despair.” He bent his head, pressing some soft kisses where you allowed. “Since you are with child we have to be careful.”

You sighed. Your breath warm and soft, distantly he smiled. It was obvious you had some tarts while he was out. Its sweetness lingered on you. “You would be.”

“I could only hope. But what if I hurt you or them, I would never forgive myself. “ He paused, in the muted light he relished the sight of your beauty. “Though I have an idea. And we can still be intimate.” He assured you.

“Oh tell me.”

“Nestle, closer my love.” He urged you. He had remembered how you had enjoyed touching him that one day. “Do you remember, the day you touched me?”

“Yes.”

“I would like you to do that again.”

“Oh can I?”

“Yes, mon doux ange you can. I will help you.”

Shuffling, he managed to open the buttons of his trousers and then move his shirt. He glanced down at you. “Love, I will take myself out and I will let you touch me. I can guide you.”

“Please. You will have to, I will not want to hurt you.”

He smiled, relief filling him as he heard how breathless you had become. He knew this was making your heart beat harder just like his own heart. Easing himself out of his trousers, he sighed and soft moan broke his lips.

“Oh, you are still magnificent.” You whispered.

Your words making his heart squeeze.

“Thank you, love. May I take your hand now?“

“Yes.”

Gently, he took your hand. He help you wrap your fingers around him. His entire being tightened. It felt unbelievable.

“Are you ok?” Your hand twisting on him as you looked back at him.

He coughed. “Yes. That, your hand feels amazing.”

“Oh, good.”

The gently he began guiding your hand. It almost made him come undone right then there.

“Your hand feels so good.” He whispered.

Trembles coursed through him and he bit the inside of his cheek. He would no let go just yet. This was entirely new way of you making him feeling so good.

“Just like that angel.” He encouraged.

He wrapped his hand around yours once again. We will do this a little firmer. He felt like this was a pleasurable torture. Also however in the shadows, watching your hand as it up and down. Was almost too much. His sweet angel.

“Oh, my angel that feels so good.”

He was so close to coming undone. His stomach continued to twist into pleasurable knots. He shook.

“I’m…I’m….oooh angel!” He called out. And soon, he expelled his seed.

“Ooh!” You rubbed a little harder, and he reached out and stopped you.

“That’s it my love. You have made me undone.”

He panted and melted back into the pillows. He licked his lips.

You hand held him gently. “Did I help you to feel good?”

He blinked. “Yes, love that was amazing.”

That’s when it dawned on him, he reached into his pocket and took out a cloth. “I wasn’t thinking. I am sorry.” He gently took your hand and cleaned off his essence.

Gently, he tucked himself away. “Angel, thank you for making me feel so good.” He was still breathless. He ran his fingers along your cheek. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

“Can you?”

His stomach once again tightened with pleasure.

“Yes, I can.”

*******

He crouched in the shadows. He longed for a real meal. Once in London, he would. There he grab some salted and dry meats for the journey to the new world.

He was tired of the sorry excuse for the stew the cook had been making the last few days. He ignored the burning or the cramping of staying there in the shadows, waiting on another rat. He had already managed to catch four of the seven that came into the corridor.

******

He banged on the kitchen door. The chef looked him up and down. “What?”

He held up six dead rats. “Add their meat to the stew.”

The man grumbled. “If you grow ill, it is your fault.”

The man shrugged and walked away. This would hunt more tomorrow. Now he’d have strength again. He had to keep it up, he was going to find the man who killed his son.

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove @poisonedeuphoria

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn imagine #bbc!enjolras #enjolras #bbc!enjolras x reader #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras fluff #enjolras smut #enjolras angst #a time to love and to fight #joe quinn fanfic #part 29

[joleneghoul]

BIG TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND MEDICAL NEGLECT⚠️

Anyways im awake now. Medical neglect is when someone under the care of a caregiver has their health needs ignored.

Typically, we see this with children, but it can also happen with the disabled who rely on others for support and elders. I will be talking mostly abt the neglect of children here, but know it can apply to others as well depending on the situation.

But MOST IMPORTANTLY, this is done by people with a responsibility to care for the victim.

Some examples of this are:

A parent telling their child they are being dramatic or telling them they are lying when they claim they're sick.

A caregiver telling the person under their care they are "over acting" their condition.

A child breaks a bone, and the parent does not believe it's broken. (Way more common than it should be)

A caregiver/parent refusing to give the person/child under their care the medication they need/that is perscribed.

This is specific, but a parent/caregiver telling someone that extreme unbearable pain during a period is "normal" and refusing to let the person be checked by a doctor.

A caregiver not believing in symptoms like fainting, lightheadedness, migraines, or any sort of invisible symptoms because they did not see it or were not around to see it.

A caregiver leaving a mobility aid out of reach from the person/child who needs it.

Refusing to let your child see a therapist or mental health professional after trauma.

Basically, denying the medical needs of someone under your care for any reason if that person relies on you for thst care.

This is one of the MOST common forms of abuse, yet people will not realize that either what they do is wrong or what they've gone through was not fair to them.

I saw a tiktok the other day that was meant to be "funny" about a parent saying their child lied about their foot being broken but finally took her to the dr to prove the child wrong. The childs foot was broken. How is this at all comical? Why are these things so normalized?

There are so many people, myself included who have had that exact experience.

And this is a trauma that can stick with people their whole lives. Ignoring medical problems can RUIN someone's body, and these problems follow you into adulthood. And then these people as (often disabled) adults are thrust into medical systems that are founded on ableism/mistreatment of the disabled.

If you are a victim of this, i highly recommend therapy if at all possible. There are a lot of options for therapy you can do from home nowadays. It is really helpful to talk out these feelings with a professional, even if you've never spoken to one before.

You deserve help. You are not dramatic for seeking it.

Anyways, sorry for the rant. If you have something to add about this not being true, dont bother, I will block you.

#abuse #medical neglect #ableism #neglect

[sayorseee]

Mob AU (a prompt for when you feel better :) :

Addison’s always taken care of herself. So when she gets sick, and Zed wants to help, she wants NONE of it. Unfortunately, this just results in a very sick and crabby Addison, and an equally determined Zed who wants nothing more then to coddle her until she’s better.

Let Me Love You, a mob au side story (ao3) (ff.net)

warning: this short contains spoilers for Kings, Queens, and the Pawns In Between

PART 1 of 3

-

Addison Jacobs lays in a curled up ball between two chairs in the employee break room. She's pretty sure she still has twenty minutes before she needs to be up to be cheery, peppy, friendly Addy, instead of the Addy that went to bed a little congested and woke up feeling like she had a love affair with death and was suffering the consequences. 

The back door opens and she feels the heat of sunlight burning against her face. Addison groans, tucking her face into the chair. 

From a few feet away, she hears her manager and close friend, Eliza, ask, “Um, what's wrong with her?” 

Her coworker and other close friend, Wyatt, answers with, “She's sick, but if you ask her–” 

“I'm fine,” Addison grumbles. 

She sits up, her head wavering with a wave of lightheadedness and nausea that she barely managed to ignore. But still, she puts on her best game face. “Just a little tired.” She scrubs a hand over her face to cover up a sniffle. 

“You are definitely sick,” Eliza says. 

“I've been trying to tell her to go home!” 

“I'm fine,” Addison reiterates. 

Wyatt throws his hands up, frustrated. “You look like crap!” Addison simply rolls her eyes; they've been going back and forth like this since she got there, but she didn't plan on admitting she was too sick to be at work. 

Eliza grumbles loudly and Addison looks over, watching her angrily typing on her phone. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I'm getting Willa to come in early. And letting Zed know you refuse to go home and get better.” 

“What!” 

“You won't listen to us!” 

“Zed is not my keeper, and I'm fine!” Addison argues. “I'll just bus tables all day if I have to, but you can’t make me go home.” 

“Addison –” 

She growls, actually, physically growls, startling both Eliza and Wyatt. “I feel fine. Trust me, okay?” She starts for the door to the main dining room, intent on working through her opening procedures (or lying down in one of the booths while Eliza and Wyatt aren't looking), but stops and turns back to them with one final thought. “And don't. Tell. Zed.” 

~

In Addison's defense, the diner was slow, and Eliza was strict in her duties for today: bussing tables, and only bussing tables. If Addison even so dated as to cough near a patron, she was done. 

But Addison wasn't that sick. Sure, the king she stood the more her head would pound, and the tightness in her chest continued to get worse. But she chugged a bottle of DayQuil this morning, and even sat down in one of the empty booths while the diner was slow to calm her racing heart. 

Which brings her to now: being shaken away by her boyfriend, Zed Necrodopolis. Seabrook's most infamous character, heir to the Necrodopolis family fortune and the mob throne. And the one person Addison didn't want finding out about her little ‘lapse' in health. 

“C’mon, Addy, get up,” Zed grumbles, tugging on her arm and pulling her up into a seated position. 

“I was just…resting my eyes,” she rasps. 

“Mhm, sure you were.” 

Addison just rubs the sleep from her already aching eyes. She has no idea how long she was out for, but she really needs to get back to work. Unfortunately, Zed sits down next to her, boxing her into the booth. 

“Zed, I'm working,” she whines. 

He raises an eyebrow at her. “You were knocked out a second ago.” She rolls her eyes in response. “And, no offense, baby, but you look like crap.” 

“I thought you loved me no matter how I look?” She tries to sound flirty and teasing, but with her sore throat it just sounds pathetic. 

Still, Zed chuckles. He nudged her shoulder playfully, despite her grumpiness. “I'm just worried about you. Eliza says you're refusing to take the day off.” 

“I told her not to tell you,” she mumbles. 

“Well technically, Willa told me.” Zed leans over, showing her his phone with his texts to Willa, starting with a picture of her, passed out in the booth. 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah.” He repockets his phone. “Do you wanna tell me what's going on? Why you don't wanna go home?” 

Addison frowns. Instead of answering, she leans into his side, hiding away from the world. Zed reached over with his other hand to stroke her hair. “Come on, babe, let me take you home. You can rest up and get back to work as soon as you feel better.” 

“I can’t,” she mumbles. 

He turns his head, and although she can't see him she can picture his face: his big, brown, caring eyes, staring into her soul, prodding her to open up to him. 

She sighs and lifts her head. “It's the twenty-ninth,” she says quietly. “And…I'm still short.” 

His expression shifts, a deep frown filling his gestures. “Addy…” 

“I can pay my own rent, Zed.” 

“But at the expense of your health?” he counters. She clamps up and he continues, “Number one, you spend more time at my place than your own home. And you know you can always ask me for help, no matter how big or small the ask.” 

“But…” 

He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say before she can say it. “Addy, you know I don't think that. And I don't care what other people think. I know you love me, and I love you. And I'm always around to help you. Even if it's as simple as reminding your stubborn self that you should not be working customer service when you’re this sick. I mean, people will complain.” 

Addison giggles, which quickly turns into a fit of congested coughs. Zed pays her back until she claims her breathing down enough to return to her normal, sickly labored breathing. 

Okay, maybe she should go home. 

“Come on,” Zed says as he slides out of the booth, “I'll take you home. Make you my mom’s famous chicken noodle soup.” 

“You mean the soup we have here.” 

Zed holds out a hand which she graciously takes, letting him pull her up to her feet. 

“Well I make it better 'cause I'm a Necrodopolis. We add a little extra love.” He even kisses her temple, then walks her to the break room in the diner. 

Addison slides into a chair at the break room table, the same table she'd been laying at that morning when Eliza first found her, and put her head down while Zed went into Eliza's office. She didn't know what he planned on telling her, and frankly, she didn't care. With every passing second, her head grew heavier and heavier. 

She vaguely remembers Zed coming back out and taking her outside to his waiting car, but everything after that ends up as a blur.

#asks #c-rose2081 #mob au #zombies #zeddison #sick fic #addison zombies #addison wells #zed necrodopolis #zed zombies #sayorseee writes #mob!au sick fic

[lured-into-wonderland]

The plan hadn't been successful as if someone is purposely trying to make her message unreachable to proper informants, despite the error she made by herself the last time. It has been getting frustrating. She felt weak. In the mirror of school bathroom, her face is awfully pale. She has to lean on the sink to balance herself to prevent from falling down and hitting her head.

The certain vampire testing on her blood isn't doing any good. Her naturally bitter blood is now smells sweet but the aftertaste is still the same and thus, making her end up getting hurt more than she should.

Shoving the cellphone into her pocket, she still has a class to go back to. She is considering to go to the infirmary but she is against the idea of a random doctor knowing about her pathetic health condition.

In the corridor, she is really starting to reconsider her decision, then the lightheadedness hits her. She falls down on her knees, leaning on the wall of the hallway. Think she saw someone's shadow, but she can't see clearly. She can't ask for help, her pride isn't allowing. She is trying to push herself up but it's just not working. Looking up to see someone hovering over her, she falls back and crawls backwards. The silhouette felt familiar.... Is the person someone she know?

"Who... are you...? If you're not going to help me please.... don't hurt me..."

(( I had to control Nunnally's action here, I hope it was okay! And Kira needs serious help 💀))

“What…what are you doing?” – Nunnally was caught off-guard when the saw the raven-haired girl on her knees, crawling, and then she heard these strange words – “Don’t draw attention to yourself…to us… in such a way.” – the blond girl was not only surprised to actually meet her kidnapper again, but perhaps more importantly to see her in such a state.

“How could I really hurt you? It’s only the opposite, didn’t we already prove that before?” – Nunnally asked – “Although given your poor state, I most likely could” – she stated blatantly and less politely than she wanted.

Nunnally looked at the girl for a longer moment. She definitely needed help, although Nunnally did not really feel like helping. They promised each other to pretend they did not know themselves, so perhaps the best decision would be to leave? Perhaps that was just another trap, and the girl was actually pretending in order to lure her into something. Nunnally turned around with the strong desire to leave. But she could not leave. The girl seemed fragile and helpless, but more importantly Nunnally still remembered her reassuring words at the end of their last meeting. “You’re a good daughter.” – back then Nunnally had needed to hear those words more than anything else. She turned around again to face Kira.

“It seems that you were not a dream after all. Not that I actually expected you were. Well, then…” – she added – “…I guess I am going to help you, although that will most likely be my second mistake in relation to you. Are you able to get up when clinging onto me?” – Nunnally asked helping gently the girl to get up.  

It was difficult. Kira felt heavy and Nunnally was not used to helping anyone in such a way.

“Hey, hey…don’t pass out…Just make an effort a few more steps…Try it please if you don’t want to me to be forced to call someone to help.” – Nunnally said in a state of a small panic.

When Kira woke up, she found herself lying in a room that looked like some sort of a strange art studio. Her clothes were loosened to allow proper breathing. Nunnally was sitting next to her putting a syringe on the small table standing close to the chaise longue Kira was lying on.

“Oh, you have woken up.” – Nunnally said smiling gently to Kira – “That is good. Here eat something and have a rest. You seem a bit anaemic. I know much about it. Someone was taking too much of your blood?” – Nunnally paused and then added in a slightly reassuring smile – “I think we should get a doctor to see you. But…but given the circumstances of our last meeting, I have decided to wait until you wake up. Well, at least if you were to wake up in a reasonable time, which you actually did. I could…I could call a family doctor, if you do not want any random one. Or a school one.”

Nunnally paused and then asked: --

“Do you mind telling me what happened? I guess you really needed help this time.”  

#Kira Tsunami #yourlocaltea #Nunnally #Nunnally Sakamaki #rp interaction #(( hope this is okay but lmk if you'd like some changes )) #(( not Nunnally still not assured it is not a trap )) #(( will Kira snap at Nunnally ))

[windfighter]

Change of plans

Prompt: Emergency room/Ambulance

-------

Plans change quickly sometimes. One second Kouji was walking with Kouichi towards the park to meet up with the rest of the gang, and the next he was lying on the road, cluthing his right foot in his hands. It took Kouichi another five seconds to notice Kouji wasn’t walking with him any longer.

Kouji’s ankle was on fire and he cursed loudly. He could tell he would not be walking on that for a while.

”Kouji?” Kouichi asked and crouched next to him.

A car honked nearby. Kouji had to swallow whatever pride he had.

”Help?” he asked.

Kouichi helped him sit up, then wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him to his feet. Kouji felt lightheaded and leaned heavily against Kouichi.

”Come on, we’re blocking the traffic”, Kouichi said.

His voice was worried and Kouji wanted to tell him it was fine, but it was so far from fine it wasn’t even funny. Kouichi supported him when he jumped back onto the sidewalk and then sat him down by a tree. Kouji closed his eyes and leaned his head against the trunk.

”It’s not broken”, he said.

Kouichi’s hands hovered over his foot but didn’t touch it. It was already swelling and the shoe felt way too tight and painful.

”Are you sure?” Kouichi asked. ”Can you move it?”

Kouji winced as he tried to do just that. The lightheadedness returned and he stopped.

”...yeah”, he hissed out.

”That was not a yeah, you looked like you were going to faint!”

”Yeah, well it fucking hurts”, Kouji cried out and instantly regretted it when he saw Kouichi’s shocked face.

”I’m calling an ambulance.”

Kouji pulled a hand over his face.

”Just call dad. You don’t need an ambulance for a sprain.”

”How’s the rest of you?” Kouichi asked as he pulled out the phone.

Kouji had to focus to be able to feel anything other than the intense pain in his foot. He could see the blood on his knee and arm, but it just didn’t register on the pain scale. He attempted to pull his foot up in order to untie the shoe, but moving it made him feel like he was passing out so he stopped.

”Can you help me get the shoe off?” he asked.

”I’d rather not”, Kouichi said, but still put the phone between his cheek and shoulder and untied Kouji’s shoe.

Kouji really couldn’t tell if it made the pain worse or better. Kouichi pulled at the shoe to get it off and Kouji’s vision swam. He sat up straighter and reached a hand out to stop Kouichi, who reacted instantly and stopped pulling.

”Sorry”, Kouichi said and Kouji shook his head.

”Asked you”, he said.

He still felt lightheaded from the pain. Black dots clouded his vision and Kouichi looked worriedly at him.

”Hey dad”, Kouichi said into the phone. ”Can you come pick us up? Kouji’s broken his foot.”

”’s not… ’s not broken.”

”We’re next to the road, you should be able to see us.”

”No rush”, Kouji mumbled.

”Uhu”, Kouichi answered to something Kousei said. ”Kouji says to take your time, but he’s about to pass out and I’m about to panic so please come as soon as you can.”

Kouji wanted to protest, but he could understand were Kouichi was coming from and let it be. He leaned back against the tree and took a shaky breath.

”That sounds good”, Kouichi continued in the phone. ”We’ll be fine. Mhm. See you soon.”

He ended the call and put his face in his hands with a sigh. Kouji tried to nudge him with his uninjured foot, but Kouichi was sitting on the wrong side of his legs and he gave up.

”Hey”, he said instead, ”I’ll be fine.”

He shivered. Kouichi looked at him and noticed it.

”You’re freezing.”

”Body’s in shock I think. Don’t worry.”

Kouichi moved closer to Kouji, sat down next to him. Kouji leaned against Kouichi’s shoulder.

”Good thing it wasn’t a busy street”, he mumbled.

Kouichi tensed up and Kouji nudged him with his elbow, leaving blood on Kouichi’s clothes.

”No, stop imagining things. I’m fine.”

”For certain values of fine, yeah”, Kouichi answered.

”We should probably let the others know we’re not coming”, Kouji suggested, if only to give Kouichi something to do.

Kouichi nodded and called Junpei. Kouji closed his eyes and listened to their voices, tried to ignore the pounding in his foot.

-----------

Kousei arrived after ten minutes. He parked in the street, despite there not being room to park there. Kouji waved to him and pulled away from Kouichi, who got to his feet. Kousei crouched infront of Kouji.

”How bad is it?” he asked and grabbed Kouji’s leg.

Kouji’s vision swam again. He swallowed.

”It’s just a sprain.”

”Uhu”, Kousei was unimpressed. ”That can mean anything from ’just twisted’ to ’fractured’. Painscale?”

Kouji leaned his head against the trunk again. Kousei pulled the shoe off and Kouji screamed. He leaned forward and Kouichi crouched, wrapped an arm around him and Kouji held on to Kouichi’s shirt and bruied his face in Kouichi’s shoulder.

”Eight to ten”, he whispered when he could breathe again.

”Alright”, Kousei said and stood up again. ”We’re heading to the hospital.”

Kouji wanted to protest, but actually, yeah, that was probably the right call and his brain wouldn’t cooperate enough to find the words to protest anyway. Kouichi helped him up, wrapped an arm around his waist and Kouji put his arm over Kouichi’s shoulder. Kouichi took most of Kouji’s weight as he hobbled over to the car. He sank down in the backseat, put his foot on the empty seat and took a shaky breath.

”The cardrive will probably be agony”, Kousei warned him as he helped him with the seatbelt.

”It’s fine”, Kouji said and didn’t believe himself.

Kousei squeezed Kouji’s shoulder.

”You should have called an ambulance, I could have met up with you at the hospital.”

”’m fine.”

”Eight to ten is not fine”, Kousei answered before closing the door and heading to the driver’s seat.

Kouichi took place in the passanger seat, let Kouji have the backseat to himself. The car started, Kouji’s foot shook from the movement and the pain got even more intense. Kouji put his fist against his mouth and bit his index finger to keep himself from crying out in pain again. Kousei glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

”We’ll be there soon”, he said and Kouji nodded.

----------

Kouji’s cheeks were wet with tears when they finally stopped at the hospital. He was still biting himself, but slowly unclenched his jaw. He sniffled, pulled a hand over his eyes. Kouichi turned around in the front seat.

”You doing okay?”

Kouji nodded. Kouichi didn’t look convinced.

”It’s so weird seeing you cry.”

”N-nine”, Kouji said.

He wanted to say something about the fact that he had been crying the first time they actually saw each other, but that was too many words to get past the pain. Kousei got out of the car.

”I’ll fetch a wheelchair for you”, he said and Kouji nodded again.

Kousei left. Kouji’s phone started ringing and he fished it out of his pocket and handed it to Kouichi.

”Putting you on speaker”, Kouichi said as a greeting.

”Where are you guys?” Takuya’s voice rang out.

Kouji sniffled again and Kouichi reached out to grab his hand.

”Didn’t Junpei tell you?”

”He just said you weren’t coming. Why not? You sounded so excited about it yesterday. Where’s Kouji?”

”Kouji’s right here”, Kouichi squeezed Kouji’s hand. ”He’s not quite in shape to talk.”

”’m fine”, Kouji tried to convince them both for the fourth time and Kouichi rolled his eyes.

”We’re at the hospital”, he told Takuya.

”What?!”

”Yeah, so we can’t really talk much longer.”

They could see Kousei returning already.

”You didn’t say anything about the hospital to me”, Junpei said through the phone.

”You didn’t ask”, Kouichi shrugged. ”We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Kouji snorted and then winced as his foot moved again. He let go of Kouichi’s hand in order to bury his face in his hands. Kousei opened the door to the backseat.

”Ready to move?” he asked and Kouji nodded.

”Have to get going now”, Kouichi told the people in the phone. ”I’ll let you know when we’re back home.”

He put the phone in his pocket and got out of the car. Kouji pushed himself out as well. He winced every time there was even a slight movement in the ankle, which had swollen up to twice it’s normal size. He tried not to look at it, because every time he did his head spun. Kousei steadied him as he moved over to the wheelchair.

”It’ll be better soon”, Kousei said as Kouji let out a whimper when he sat down a little to fast.

Kouji nodded and they headed to the hospital.

----------------

They had to wait three hours before they got to see a doctor. Then another hour to get an x-ray, and another half hour waiting for the results of that. Kouji had gotten morphine for the pain and while it helped with that it also made him sleepy. Getting his foot splinted almost two hours after the x-ray was what finally made the pain better, and Kouichi was almost boiling at how they hadn’t done that immediately. Kousei patted Kouichi’s shoulder.

”Kouji was very adamant that it was only a sprain.”

Kouji stopped where he was practicing using the crutches and the nurse who helped him almost bumped into him.

”It is just a sprain”, he said.

Kouichi buried his face in his hands.

”Two torn ligaments and a hairline fracture is not just a sprain.”

”It’s still classified as a sprain”, Kouji insisted and Kousei laughed.

Kouji put the crutches a little too far ahead and almost lost his balance. The nurse caught and steadied him before he fell over.

”You need to take shorter steps until you get used to them”, the nurse said and Kouji nodded and tried again.

Five minutes later and Kouji was steady enough that he was allowed to leave. He crutched to the car as quickly as he could, but was still slower than both Kouichi and Kousei.

”Cheaters”, he mumbled and sank down in the backseat.

Kousei put the crutches in the trunk and Kouji yawned.

”I am exhausted”, he complained.

”Same”, Kouichi said and sank down in the passanger seat. ”I vote we take a nap when we get home.”

”Mm”, Kouji agreed as Kousei opened the door to the driver’s seat. ”Can niisan stay the night?”

”He has school tomorrow”, Kousei said.

”Our house is closer to school anyway”, Kouji argued and Kousei let out a sigh.

”If Tomoko agrees to it, sure.”

Kouichi dialed Tomoko instantly. Kouji fastened his seatbelt and closed his eyes.

”Can we eat at McDonalds today?” he asked.

”You need healthier food than that if you want your foot to get better.”

”I know, but I want McDonalds.”

Kousei let out a sigh and started the car.

”McDonalds sounds good”, Kouichi also said.

”Fine, we’ll stop at McDonalds on the way home.”

They left the parking lot. Tomoko answered the phone and Kouichi talked with her for a while. Kouji fell asleep in the backseat shortly after they exited the hospital area.

--------

”Hey”, Kouichi shook Kouji awake. ”We’re home now.”

Kouji blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

”Told you I was exhausted”, he said and yawned.

”Yeah, no shit. Come on or the food’ll get cold.”

”McDonalds?”

”McDonalds”, Kousei confirmed and held the crutches for Kouji to take.

Kouji climbed out of the backseat, grabbed the crutches and followed Kouichi and Kousei inside. He almost stumbled over the steps to the porch, but Kousei grabbed him in time and helped steady him. Satomi looked relieved as they entered the house.

”Are you okay?” she asked and Kouji nodded.

”Just a sprain.”

”Fracture”, Kousei corrected. ”He needs to stay off it for at least a week.”

Satomi’s eyes filled with worry and Kouji rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen.

”I am starving”, he complained. ”Give me McDonalds or death.”

Kouichi snorted and followed him, put the food on the table and sat down next to Kouji. They could hear Kousei and Satomi talk in the hallway. Kouji yawned again.

”I’m still tired”, he admitted and moved the chair next to him so he could use it to elevate his foot.

”You only slept for 45 minutes”, Kouichi said and also yawned. ”We’ll go to bed early tonight.”

”Mama let you stay?”

”She did. I’ll be here the whole week, if you want to.”

”You still need to go to school, right?”

”Well, duh. But I’ll come here after school and stay until next school day.”

Kouji looked at his lap and hugged his hands.

”..thanks. For staying. And helping me today.”

”No worries”, Kouichi put a hamburger in Kouji’s hands. ”Get some food already, you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Kouji bit into the hamburger and it was the best food he had ever eaten. He must have been hungrier than he thought. Kousei and Tomoki sat down as well and all of them ate together.

--------------

”...we forgot to let them know we got home okay”, Kouji realized when he was getting ready for bed.

Kouichi looked at him, eyes widened slightly.

”Takuya’s gonna think you’re dying.”

Kouji put his fist against his mouth. He was feeling mean.

”What if we go with it?”

”What?”

Kouichi stared at him in disbelief. Kouji almost grinned.

”Takuya would do the same. I mean, you’ll obviously tell him the truth in school tomorrow because you can’t lie to save your life, but until then.”

”You are evil”, Kouichi said and threw a pillow on Kouji.

Kouji tried to dodge it and winced in pain as he moved his leg in a way it didn’t like. Kouichi instantly hovered by his side.

”Can I do something? Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”

”Bakamon”, Kouji said. ”Just moved too quickly.”

He laid down in the bed and put his leg on a pile of pillows to get it elevated. Kouichi was still looking at him.

”You could get me a painkiller?” Kouji suggested. ”The one I got at the hospital is wearing off.”

”Can do!” Kouichi said and disappeared down the stairs.

Kousei entered the room just as Kouichi left it. He glanced after Kouichi before looking at Kouji.

”Did you have a fight?”

”Foot’s starting to hurt”, Kouji said. ”Niisan’s getting me a painkiller.”

”Are you going to be okay tonight?”

”I think so”, Kouji pulled the cover over himself and winced as the splint got caught up in it. ”Help?”

Kousei tucked him in, took the hairtie out of his hair and patted his shoulder.

”Don’t hesitate to call if you need us”, he said. ”Satomi’ll stay home with you tomorrow and I’ll try to get away from work early.”

Kouji really wanted to protest, but there was a soft feeling in his chest.

”...thank you”, he said instead.

”Good night then”, Kousei said and went back to the door. ”Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Kouji snorted.

”Night dad, see you tomorrow.”

”Night dad”, Kouichi said and slinked past Kousei to get back into the room.

Kousei laughed and left the twins alone again. Kouichi sat down on the edge of Kouji’s bed and gave him the pill and a glass of water. Kouji took the pill and emptied the glass before lying back down.

”You want me to sleep next to you or do you want some space to manouver if you need to use the bathroom tonight?” Kouichi asked.

Kouji had to think. Both options were good. He pulled a hand across his face.

”Will you be okay if I wake you up?”

”Of course.”

Kouji didn’t quite believe that because he knew how hard it was for Kouichi to fall asleep, but he’d have to take it this time.

”Next to me”, he said and took a shaky breath.

Kouichi nodded and moved the guest bed closer to Kouji’s. Kouji closed his eyes and made himself as comfortable as he could. He never liked sleeping on his back.

”Can I at least let Junpei know we’re home?”

”Hm… yeah, sure”, Kouji said with a yawn. ”Bet he won’t sleep otherwise.”

”He won’t”, Kouichi agreed and picked up his phone again.

He turned the lights off, closed the door and laid down in his own bed before sending a text to Junpei to let him know what had happened. Kouji listened to Kouichi tapping on the phone for half an hour before the painkiller was finally starting to work. He yawned again.

”Night, niisan”, he said.

Kouichi stopped writing on the phone and put it under his pillow instead.

”Night, Kouji”, he said. ”Wake me up if you need anything.”

”Mm”, Kouji said and fell asleep.

#windy writes #digimon frontier #kouji minamoto #kouichi kimura #sicktember 2022 #hurt kouji #sprained ankle #prompt: emergency room/ambulance #hurt/comfort #no beta we die like kouichi #Kouji will get a very angry phonecall from Takuya tomorrow #but I'm too tired to write that :P #ngl I've written this story like 10 years ago as well #and one of my favorite Frontier-stories is on the exact same subject as well #I know what I like xD

[anabsolutefreak]

Chapter 15: Entangled and Enchanted

This is a canon adjacent full campaign based story involving my original TAV character, the full BG3 crew and, of course, our favorite undead high elf. I created this story to help me get through an exceptionally difficult time in my life and so, you might notice Tav's story is a little more atypical than some. Be advised that the story I have created has some mature themes including violence, kink, mental health and self harm. I will be placing warnings on each individual chapter when any of these themes are included so please be aware. Summary: Embrae loses her temper when tensions between Lae'zel and Shadowheart threaten to turn violent again. Astarion finds himself in a spot of mortal peril without a hero in sight. MATURE CONTENT: Violence and mentions of trauma. As always, I thank you so much for reading. Any comments and suggestions are more than welcome. :D

Embrae awoke slowly next to the sound of the river and the soft music of the morning. She was lying still naked on the moss at the base of a cottonwood tree and she felt pleasantly boneless and light. She hadn’t dreamed, she realized. That hardly ever happened. Her relaxation was replaced by nausea and lightheadedness, however, as soon as she sat up. Her muscles were also dreadfully sore. She grimaced, putting her forehead in her hands. 

Astarion chuckled. “You weren’t joking about your ability to handle alcohol, were you? 

Her eyes flew open to see Astarion next to her, pulling on his trousers. As she reconstructed the night before in her memory, she turned scarlet.

“Oh darling, now you’re bashful?” He tutted and leaned back on his hands, grinning at her. “Surely you remember; you didn’t imbibe that much.”

“I remember.”Her blush deepened but she smiled ruefully. “I was just replaying it.”

“And who can blame you?” he asked with a little wave of his hands. “You know, I’d love to laze here all morning with you darling, but we should probably get out of here before the tieflings get us into any more trouble.”

She groaned internally. “I’m sick of having so much to do.” Halsin would be waiting at camp to discuss where she might find a potential cure; then she was planning on getting as much out of Shadowheart as she could about her mysterious artifact. There was also the Gith Crech to consider, she remembered as she pulled the shirt over her head— and they had to go back to the grove before Dammon, the blacksmith left with the other tieflings. Karlach had managed to turn up some infernal iron and she was anxious to give it to him.

Astarion watched her ruefully as she pulled on her pants and he sighed. “I do rather like it better when they’re coming off. 

She laughed and felt a flush creep back up her neck. “Well,” she said. “It is still early.”

He chuckled. “Insatiable one, aren’t you? Don’t worry, there’s time enough for all of that darling, but not now.”

She stood and stretched her sore muscles and tried to blink away the headache behind her eyes. I wonder if the tadpole gets inebriated too… She had felt almost comfortable with him, she realized. Now, after last night, she felt almost more awkward and less sure of herself. She wasn’t sure where to look— what to say. She knew the feelings she had for Astarion were almost certainly, much more advanced than his own. She was shocked to find herself holding back tears at the thought. 

His cold hand touched her shoulder softly. “Are you quite all right my dear?” he asked her, pulling back his hand when she turned to look up at him. His face was relaxed but his eyes betrayed tension. Or maybe she was projecting, she scolded herself. 

She drove back the worries in her mind. “Yes, of course. It’s like you said— I just don’t have a stomach for alcohol.” She forced herself to smile brightly at him (like putting on a mask). “Come on— you were right: we have a lot to do.”

***

“I trust you enjoyed your evening,” said Halsin, his voice awkwardly formal as he stood before her and the others at camp .“It might be a while before you’re afforded another like it.” The big man shifted from foot to foot as though he were unaccustomed to standing on them. She supposed that remaining a bear for weeks would probably have that effect. 

“You said you might have some advice about our tadpoles?”

“Indeed,” sighed the Archdruid, “I’ve been studying the Ilithid tadpoles for some time now. Those infected but who have not yet changed into mind flayers worship what they believe to be a god— the Absolute. The heart of the cult resides at Moonrise Towers. I’m sorry to say that I believe that to find the answers you seek, you will have to go there… I believe that Moonrise is the source of this infestation.”

Embrae glanced at her companions. They looked as skeptical as she felt. “So, you’re suggesting we go to Moonrise and infiltrate the same cult that is trying to enslave us and eventually transform us. That sounds… safe.”

“I can assure you it’s not… and not just for the reasons you think.” Halsin sighed, his eyes filled with sadness. The lands around Moonrise are infested with a terrible curse— the shadow curse. It is a darkness which seeps the life out of the very earth itself and turns anyone it touches into unimaginable terrors.”

Even better, she groaned to herself internally. “The cultists must get to and from Moonrise somehow…”

“I would imagine so. But I know not how. Taking the Risen Road will lead you to the towers,” he explained. “—-an easy enough journey to begin with. But the Shadowcurse lays thick across the land… but barring help from the cultists, you could go under… the Underdark. It would be dangerous in its own right. The Underdark is full of vicious creatures and untold perils…but I still believe it to be infinitely better than crossing the shadow-cursed lands…”

“Well isn’t that just peachy?” said Astarion bitterly. 

“I am sorry I don’t have better news for you… Whatever you choose, I do wish to travel with you. The Shadow Curse. I feel— a responsibility to try lifting it if I am able.”

Embrae frowned. “What about the grove. Don’t they need you there?”

“The grove will be fine. I have appointed a new Archdruid, whom I believe will be much wiser and a better leader than Kagha. Now, I must go where Nature bids, and I believe she bids me to do what I can to lift the curse.” 

“Well, please then, by all means… It sounds like we have a lot to think about. Thank you Halsin.”

*** 

“We must find the Crech!” Snapped Lae’zel. They are the only ones who can purify us from the worm.” 

“So you keep saying,” Shadowheart replied. “But I still feel decidedly uncomfortable trusting my health to—”

“To what, k’chakhi,? Lae’zel hissed back. “You think the Gith the untrustworthy ones when you yourself have one of our stolen relics?”

Not this again. 

“I stole nothing from you!” Shadowheart shouted, her fists balled a her sides. “You think yourself so superior to us. If you think you’re so right, then, by all means, go yourself. None of us will miss you.”

“We might want to step in,” suggested Karlach, shifting beside her. “Remember what happened last time?”

Embrae awoke to silence. It was much too quiet, she thought— the sort of quiet one hears only when the world holds its breath. She turned over. The cleric held the cruel dagger to the gythyanki’s throat, her eyes shining with steel to match the blade. “I’ll tell the others you were turning,” she seethed… “That you were just a rabid dog.” 

Embrae snapped to the present. She had half a mind to just let these two kill one another. Idiots. 

Lae’zel took a step forward and Shadowheart’s hand twitched towards her weapon. 

“Stop it you two!” Embrae snapped. They ignored her and Shadowheart lunged forward as Lae’zel sank into a fighting stance. 

Embrae felt fury surge through her. How dare these idiots endanger one another when they were already in so much peril? She raised her hands and the the cleric and the goth found themselves held fast by two twisting vines, large enough that they lifted them almost five feet. 

“Shut up and listen, you fucking children!” She shouted at them. They turned their heads to her in shock, bodies thrashing in vain against the tangle of foliage. She could hear a chuckle from one of the others behind her but she was too angry and focused on Shadowheart and Lae’zel to see who it was. 

“I’m going to say this one time and one time only. If anyone kills someone in this camp, I will not just fucking kill you, I will drag you along with us to the Shadowlands and drop you off for a nice little vacation. Then, perhaps when you turn into a mindless shadow monster, I’ll find the compassion I need to kill you… MAYBE. So— if you two want to keep fighting each other— if you really want to tear one another apart then leave. Take your, whatever-this-is out of camp and don’t come back. She swung around to Shadowheart. You are going to tell me about the artifact as it pertains to us and the parasites, understand?” A nod from Shadowheart. 

She turned to Lae’zel, and you are going to stop trying to take it from her. The damned thing is the only thing keeping us from becoming mindless thralls or worse. Got it?” Another more sullen nod from the Gith. 

“Fantastic,” she growled, turning away from them. “You two stay here. Karlach, let’s go see your blacksmith. Anyone else who wants to join, get ready.” She began to walk away. 

“Um, Embrae?” Shadowheart’s voice asked from behind her. 

She turned, eyebrows raised. 

“Care to let us down?”

“You hang tight for a little while.” Said Embrae coolly. “Spend some quality time with one another.” 

***

He was alone when he heard the music. 

Karlach had found Dammon, her “infernal mechanic,” and he had to admit, he was quite pleased to see her happy. Still, it seemed they’d have to find more infernal iron if she wanted to shake hands with anyone— or— other things. After the tiefling had finished with the blacksmith, she, Embrae, and Gale had decided to make one last stop to trade and gather supplies. Astarion had decided to go for a walk, citing overwhelming boredom as an excuse to get away. Of course, that wasn’t the truth. 

The truth, he thought to himself as he walked down the hill towards the beach, was a gods-damned mystery. There he’d been walking along, flirting and interjecting when necessary with appropriate levels of witty sarcasm when he’d seen him… Cazador. 

Of course, it hadn’t really been Cazador, only an elf with straight black hair and who looked mildly like him. It hadn’t mattered he thought bitterly. In that moment his old master had stood with his back to him in the middle of the grove and Astarion had just about fallen to his knees in panic, readying the pathetic and worthless excuses that would never have saved him anyway. He had already been able to feel the lash against his back, as he stood there, paralyzed. 

Stupid spawn, he chastised himself. He stopped in the middle of the path and turned ed his face up to the sky, shutting his eyes. How was it that standing in the sunlight, free from Cazador’s influence, and well-fed for the first time in centuries, that he still felt so weak? Gods. The others couldn’t see him like that. They expected a powerful ally, not a pathetic vampire spawn who still saw his master hiding in every corner. 

The wind shifted suddenly as he ruminated, bringing with it the threads of a beautiful wordless melody. Astarion’s ears pricked up and honed in on the song. It was… beautiful, he thought, so full of longing and the promise of peace and safety. He found himself stepping towards it almost without thinking, walking towards the beach. The music grew louder as he walked and ever more tantalizing— it seemed to permeate through to his soul, he thought… whatever was left of it. 

The path narrowed, hugged on either side by cliffs. Ahead he could see the sun over the gentle waves, which seemed to move in time to the music he could still hear. A small, curly-headed tiefling child stood at the edge of the water as well, clearly listening to the same thing. 

“Listen,” he said in a high enchanted voice. “Can you hear it?”

Astarion could. The melody overlapped by lines of harmony now, was curling through his mind. He wondered vaguely if this was the sort of thing Embrae heard all of the time. Come, said the song. Everything will be alright once you get here. Come and be mine, elf. 

Mine. MINE. Astarion’s eyes widened. Remember that though art MINE crooned a different voice in his head. The music was no longer pleasant; it was a screeching keening, hungry sound. He looked up. A woman with huge beige wings and a predatory smile gazed down at him. A fucking harpy. 

“Get out of the water,” he snapped at the boy. “Go, now!”

“It’s alright,” said the boy. His voice was dreamy, his eyes unfocused. “Everything will be fine once I get there.

Another harpy, a wicked-looking bitch with a crown of thorns, flew down from the cliffs and landed just 10 paces from them. Her yellow eyes peered at him hungrily. He needed to go, he realized as he spotted three more lurking at different points around the beach. There was no way he could defeat them on his own. He made to run and stopped, looking back. The boy had started walking towards the crooning wench, his arms stretched towards her. Gods dammit he thought to himself. Leave him, part of him screamed. They will be distracted by their meal and you can slip away. But his legs wouldn’t move. He growled. Not a hero in sight when you needed one, was there? Well, he supposed he’d have to do. He leaped into the water after the child and swept him onto his shoulder, then he turned to bolt. Too slow, he realized as the harpy screeched her fury. The child wasn’t heavy but he kicked, screamed, and scratched at the vampire, trying to get down and get back to the gods damned things. He had half a mind to let him but alas, half a mind wasn’t enough. He placed the howling tiefling on the ground in front of him and slapped him, hard across the face. 

The child’s face froze with shock and his eyes widened in comprehension as the song lost its hold. He screamed again, this time in terror. “Run,” shouted the vampire. He grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him behind him. 

There was a harsh gust of wind as the largest harpy, the one with the crown, leaped over them, beating her wings. She twirled gracefully in midair then landed facing them. Bits of meat showed in her sharp teeth as she grinned at him. Astarion took a step back but the other three stood behind, glaring at him and the child with those same awful grins. 

Astarion drew his sword and lunged at one. She dodged, shrieked, and swiped at him with a huge talon, catching him across the face. He ignored the pain and the feeling of his hard-earned blood flowing down his skin and sidestepped her next slash, stabbing at her side with his blade. This time it hit, catching her somewhere in her torso. She screeched at him but did not fall. The child screamed behind him as one of the others lashed out, trying to grab him and Astarion pulled him away, holding him as close to his side as he could. As the harpies closed around him and the boy, they began their wretched singing again. But it was his master’s voice that sounded in his head. “Stupid, worthless boy. You think this one child would have cleansed you of your sins?” 

A man's voice rang across the beach. “Tormentum!” Huge balls of purple fire hit the harpy in front of him, causing her to jerk back, and cutting off her dangferous song abruptly. Then her yellow eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the ice spike sticking out of her chest and she fell back, dead. 

Embrae, flanked by Gale, shouted at him down from the ledge at him as she hurled another ice spike at one harpy. “Go! Get him out of here!” 

Astarion seized the boy around the middle and threw him unceremoniously over his shoulder again as he darted up the path. Those harpies are quite vicious he thought. Could she and Gale take them? 

Karlach came roaring down the path next to him, howling with barbaric rage and bursting with flames as she entered the fray of feathers, magic, and screeching.

 “Oh, they’ll be alright.”

#astarion fanfic #original female character #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 tav #slow burn #harpies #baldurs gate tav

[mental-skillness]

so the other night i passed out 4 times in a row while on a date. we were both high, and then after i took a smoke break i started getting really lightheaded and passed out on the way inside.

okay... that's awkward, but I've passed out before. i start reassuring her that this is nothing to be too concerned about. the lightheadedness doesnt wear off as quickly as I'd expect, and when i stand up i pass out again after only a couple steps.

"can you hear me?" she asks, and i wake up from a vivid dream that we are watching a movie. she's clearly pretty scared, so i go back to reassuring her. i pass out sometimes; it happens. i get back up, we make some more progress towards her room, i slip out of consciousness again. now im starting to wonder if this is a big deal after all. maybe if i lie down for a moment without disruption my body will be able to do whatever it's trying to get done by knocking me out? or maybe if i let myself lose consciousness again I'll just die. i tell her i can hear her and we take another step toward her bedroom before i collapse.

this time when i wake up i decide i just need to stay focused. it doesnt matter if im dying or not, we're heading to the bedroom and we can sort that out once im sitting on the bed. she asks if she should call 911.

"no," i tell her, "or, i don't think so. i think I'm okay." (i have told her that i think im okay every time i wake up. I'm not entirely sure it's true.)

"bedroom," i say, "we're going to the bedroom."

she helps me walk into her room. I'm still lightheaded, but convinced that i can mind-over-matter this consciousness thing. we make it to the bed and i sit down. i take deep breaths and it helps. over the next ten minutes the ringing in my ears begins to fade and the cold buzzing on my skin gradually dissipates. sitting on the bed is the most conscious-supporting position, apparently, as opposed to lying down or standing up.

we talked about it afterwards. i think she was more scared than i was, tbh. we just don't know why it happened; maybe it was the combination of weed and nicotine; maybe it was the addition of the single dose of cold/allergy medication i took; maybe it was the fact that i forgot my venlafaxine that morning. I'm fine now, or at least i think i am, although she wants me to go to doctor in case it was a heart condition. she's probably right, but i doubt i will. i feel fine now, and a doctor's appointment would mean admitting to a professional the myriad ways ive been irresponsible. i shouldnt even be smoking nicotine

#stuff to tell my therapist #mental illness #mental health #addiction #passing out #fainting #loss of consciousness #overdose #?

[theunmarked88]

Chapter 1

Levi didn't have much of an opinion about high school. He didn't have much of an opinion about anything that forced him to interact with other people. He kept his head down as he strode across campus toward the library, one hand clenched in the pocket of his sweater while the other clutched the books he carried. The sun beat down on him, but he didn't dare remove his sweater, no matter how hot it got. It didn’t matter that he might pass out from the heat. It was better than revealing what he was.

He glanced to the side as voices reached his ears, gritting his teeth. He quickened his pace, working to stay away from the group heading toward him. If he could reach the library, they wouldn't be able to touch him. Sure, they might sit near him and make snide comments, but that was better than the bruises.

"Where you going, freak?" one of the young men shouted. "Come on, we just want to talk!"

Other people were one of the biggest reasons Levi missed being homeschooled. Sure, it had only been because his parents were too ashamed to admit their child was Unmarked, but at least it meant he didn’t have to interact with morons like his fellow seniors.

Levi ignored him as he hurried toward the large wooden doors. Just as he reached out to open the door, it burst open, and a body came flying at him. Levi didn't have a chance to react as they crashed, papers and books scattering everywhere. Levi fell back, catching himself with his hands on the concrete.

“Shit, he’s with her,” he heard one of the jerks mutter. “Com on, let’s get out of here…” Well, at least that was one plus to getting knocked to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The smaller figure scurried around, collecting books and papers.

"It's fine," Levi muttered, shifting to his knees so he could collect the books he'd been carrying.

"Here, let me help you. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." She reached for a stack of papers, muttering a soft curse as her finger slid along the edge of one of the sheets.

"Is that blood?" he croaked out as a small red droplet began to well up on her finger. He didn't hear her answer as his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled forward to topple on the floor.

~-~-~

Fayth blinked, staring at the young man now lying in a crumpled heap in front of her and the doors to the library. "Um... Okay." She set the papers she'd gathered and placed a book on top of them before getting to her feet. "This is gonna be interesting," she muttered, grabbing his arms and pulling him upright before dragging him a little ways away from the doors so he wouldn't get stepped on. She wrestled his backpack off of him to lie him on his back.

She ran back for the papers and books before returning to his side and kneeling beside him. She sucked on her finger, the bleeding stopping quickly. She eyed the cement, glanced up at the sky, then sighed and reached out to unzip his sweater. She slid it off his arms and gently tucked it under his head.

"Don't know why you'd want to wear a sweater on a day like today," she muttered to herself as she finished tucking the sweater under his head. "It's such a beautiful - " The last word died on her lips as she looked back at his arms. "Hey..."

She gently lifted his left arm, examining every inch of it. Then she lifted the right and examined it. No, her first glimpse had been right. He bore no Mark, just like her.

~-~-~

Levi groaned, a splitting headache being the first thing to greet him when he regained consciousness. He pressed a hand to the side of his head, muttering curses. The tenderness he felt was evident of him face-planting into the cement. Then his eyes flew open and he snapped upright, trying to ignore the lightheadedness that struck him as he moved too quickly. Where was his backpack and sweater?

The young woman that had caused all this was kneeling beside him, grinning. "Welcome back to the conscious world! Feeling better?"

"Where's my sweater?!" he said, glancing around him. He realized that had been the soft thing his head had been resting on and grabbed it, pulling it back on. He kept his movements slow, knowing he would pass out again if he moved too quickly.

"Oh, come on. It's such a beautiful day! You can't possibly need that."

"It's none of your business," he muttered, zipping it up and reaching for his backpack.

"Is it because you're Unmarked?"

His cheeks flushed, and he gritted his teeth, lifting his head to tell her off. The words died on his lips. She wore no sweater, no long sleeves. Her arms were bare. And Markless. She smiled at him, almost as if she knew what he had expected to see.

He lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. He'd never met another Unmarked before. And she didn't hide it. How could this be? Why was she so calm and collected? Didn't she care what people thought? Didn't she feel the burn of their mocking gazes or feel the icy sting of their pity?

“You okay?” she asked.

He reached for his books and struggled to his feet, pulling on his backpack.

"Hey! You really shouldn’t move too quickly after that!"

But he didn't stop, wobbling away from her and managing to make it into the library. He weaved his way through the rows of books as quickly as he dared. Already the tunnel vision was developing from getting up too soon. His body was begging him to stop or at least slow down, but he didn’t until he’d found the bathroom.

He pushed open the door and made his way to the last sink in the line, using the sinks he passed as support on his way. He let the books drop from his limp fingers as he sat against the wall of the bathroom, dropping his head between his knees. He took slow, deep breaths as he tried to will himself to stay conscious. The lightheadedness and tunnel vision began to fade, leaving him in a cold, clammy sweat.

With a sigh, he slowly rose to his feet and stood before the sink. He stared at the mirror as his mind raced, a strange tingling washing over his body. His thoughts were still fuzzy; he didn't even know how to process what he'd just seen.

He turned on the cold water and ran his hands under the tap before pressing them to the back of his neck. Well, he'd probably never see her again. It was a pretty big school, after all.

He wasn't sure if the heavy feeling in his stomach meant relief or despair at the idea. Shaking his head, he dried off his hands and picked up his books. Then he headed for the circulation desk.

#story writing #my writing #creative writing #the unmarked #rough draft

[deluweil]

Re-watching 4x05, there were some things said in Maddie’s and Buck’s conversation in the beginning and then when kid Buck falls off the bike (by Margaret) that made me go and look for the risks in donating bone marrow.

Remember that Daniel died the first year after Buck was born, meaning that Evan was a baby when they used him as a donor.

So I pulled a Buck and went to research online: (According to healthline.com)

Anyone between 18 and 60 years old can register to be a donor.

People between 18 and 44 tend to produce more and higher quality cells than older individuals. Doctors choose donors in the 18 to 44 age group more than 95 percent of the time, according to Be The Match, a national marrow donor program.

You’ll need to provide a tissue sample. This is obtained by swabbing the inside of your cheek. You must also sign a consent form.

Besides donating your bone marrow, you’re donating your time. To be accepted, you’ll need to provide additional blood tests and have a physical examination. The total time commitment for the donation process is estimated to be 20 to 30 hours over four to six weeks

The most serious risks have to do with anesthesia:

People who fall into those categories may have an increased risk for:

postoperative confusion

pneumonia

stroke

heart attack

About 2.4 percent of donors have a serious complication from anesthesia or damage to bone, nerve, or muscle, according to Be The Match.

You’ll only lose a small amount of bone marrow, so it won’t weaken your own immune system. Your body will replace it within six weeks. - But this talks about adults doing the process, not a newborn, barely formed baby.

Some potential side effects from general anesthesia are:

sore throat due to the breathing tube

mild nausea

vomiting

Regional anesthesia can cause headache and a temporary drop in blood pressure.

Some side effects of marrow donation include:

bruising at the incision site

soreness and stiffness where the marrow was harvested

achiness or pain in the hip or back

trouble walking for a few days due to pain or stiffness

You might also feel fatigued for a few weeks. That should resolve as your body replaces the marrow.

While recovering, here are a few ways to ease common side effects:

Lightheadedness. Rise from a lying down or seated position slowly. Take things easy for a while.

Sleep disturbances. Eat smaller, lighter meals. Rest and go to bed earlier until you feel fully recovered.

Swelling at the surgery site. Avoid heavy lifting and strenuous activity for 7 to 10 days.

Swelling of the lower back. Use an ice pack periodically throughout the day.

Stiffness. Stretch or take a few short walks each day until you build up your strength and flexibility.

Fatigue. Rest assured that it’s temporary. Get plenty of rest until you feel like yourself again.

According to Be The Match, some donors find it more painful than they thought it would be. But others find it less painful than they expected.

Reading this got me even more mad at the Buckley parents, because baby Evan was expandable, they had him for the sole purpose of saving Daniel. It made me wonder if the graft worked but the baby died in the process if the grieving would have been as long as it is with Daniel.

I wonder if both survived, the treatment of baby to adult Evan would have been different - if he would have been considered the hero/savior by his parents.

I don’t wonder at Buck’s unbelievable tolerance for pain, and his habit to persevere despite everything. 

I don’t wonder about Buck’s belief of how expandable he is (obviously he’s not), it’s because that’s how his parents made him feel, every day of his life for as long as he lived under their roof, and even outside of it. 

Until the 118, bobby, and the Diazes, he really didn’t have a home.

And Chimney’s “Yes you were, by her.” (referring to Maddie wanting and loving him) does not makes a difference, because, yes she loves him and of course she wants him, always, but a sister’s love (even absent, for whatever reason) amazing as it is ( I have two, both younger) does not rival to the patterns of behavior and sense of self worth our parents can instill in us. 

I know my parents love me, but they screwed me over pretty good. (My therapist is making good money off of me lol) I know my sisters love me and that they are always there when I need them, and vice versa, but that doesn’t make the damage our parents did, even inadvertently, any less harmful.

So Eddie’s very correct assumption (unlike the rest’s broken record - reckless) in Buck acting expandable is such an important observation that was finally made to Buck himself - and the fact that it was made by Eddie is even more important, because Eddie is the one that spend the most time with Buck, by choice, and actually sees him for who and what he really is. 

Eddie doesn’t shy away from that conversation - and compared to Eddie of S3 and even S2 that is a hell of a character development, and a blessing in disguise because now they can both move on together. - Get better together.

I didn’t plan on making this about buddie - but the family Buck chose, choosing him back, in contrast to the family who brought him into this world out of necessity not out of choice is so highlighted in this case, it had to be adressed.

#evan buckley #some bone marrow donating facts #yes I went full Buck on the research here #9-1-1 4x05 #9-1-1 episode discussions #in the buckley parents eyes buck was expandable #there as no reason for him to believe anything different #I'm still mad at the buckley parents #they suck #maddie buckley #she loves buck but she wasn't always there #and siblings aren't always enough no matter how loving #118 firefam #eddie diaz #the diaz family #buck's chosen family choosing him back #we stan character development #we adore eddie diaz in this house #buddie #9-1-1 on fox

[oof-musicals]

this love left a permanent mark

Hey! So this fic was posted a few days ago but I only JUST got around to posting it here. This was indirectly inspired by @we-are-inevitable like most of my fics are (ly jac❤️) and I finally finished it after starting it like a year ago. I hope you guys enjoy!!

Pairing: Jack/Davey

Word Count: 1,110

Read on AO3!

The months following the strike were smooth.

As smooth as life as a newsboy in the early 1900s could be. Every new season brought it's new challenges. The dawn of a new century brought some hope to change, and more strikes occured as the reform became more apparent. And Davey and Les went back to school and life went on.

Davey still went back to the lodging house. The newsboys we're a thousand times better than the boys in his class. He enjoyed being in the presence of people who actually liked to hang out with him and didn't care about his social status.

Jack Kelly specifically.

Jack had something about him Davey couldn't pinpoint. Something about him was just… admiring. Davey couldn't help but gravitate towards him.

His favorite moments were just when they talked. While selling, when Davey was going home from school, on the roof. Just talking was enough.

He knew people didn't like the idea of two guys being in a relationship. He knew he could be killed for it. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't stop the lightheadedness when Jack flashed a grin. He couldn’t stop the thoughts he would get late at night. He couldn't stop the feelings he should've been having for a girl.

He knew it was wrong, but when Jack's hands were tangled in his hair and his breath was on Davey's neck, he couldn't resist.

"Would you ever consider coming with me?" Jack asked one night.

"To New Mexico?"

"Where else would it be? The moon?"

"Well- no," Davey rolled his eyes before muttering under his breath. "It'd be a miracle if someone got into space, let alone the moon."

"Getting off-topic, aren't we?"

"Shut up." Davey trained his gaze back onto the sky, considering the idea of moving across the country. That was a… big deal. "I don't know, I have family here."

Jack shifted his shoulder to face Davey, biting his lip slightly. "I just…” He took a deep breath. “My mama always talked about Santa Fe, what it was like to grow up in a town so beautiful and… I want to have my family, I really do, but I can't stay here forever. You are… set up for more than I can ever get. You have a great family and an education and I can't keep this up forever."

And here were the cracks. Here's where they stopped pretending they could do this forever. Here's where they needed to face the truth.

---

The months passed, and soon enough, Jack finally made the decision. He would go to Santa Fe and Davey would stay in New York. Finish his education, get a job, a family. He'll stay. And Jack was leaving.

Jack was leaving.

Three days before, Davey asked if they could meet up at a secluded bridge over a lake.

"Are you really going to Santa Fe?" Davey asked, already knowing the answer.

"Dave, I…" Jack trailed off, "I need this. New York isn't my place."

"New York's got family," Davey muttered, but Jack already knew that. He'd already changed his mind for the boys once, and he would do anything for them, but he wanted a life.

"That's the only thing I was stumped on," Jack kicked a rock near the bridge. "But I'm aging out in a month and it's my chance… to not suffer the same fate as my father."

That was really all Jack had to say for Davey to understand. This was one of the times when Davey realized that he and Jack were from different worlds, despite all they had in common. Davey was the middle child with two loving parents and access to education, Jack was left without a mother at six years old with a dad in jail for stealing bread and stories about Santa Fe, all while he was a kid who had to witness things a kid should never witness and be tossed on the streets. Who wouldn't want to run from that?

Jack was setting aside money for a while. A fact he'd never mention to Davey because he knew that the boy would be reluctant to let Jack go. Because New York has a family. They were a family. Family, biological or not, was going to last. He continued to make excuses to himself that he couldn't leave, New York was home. But once the year came around it was nearing his eighteenth birthday, Jack felt it was time to go. Yeah, he had a job offer to do political cartoons in the newspaper, but did he really want to be stuck?

It was just time for him to find somewhere. Somewhere where he'd have a chance to do more than barely get by. Somewhere he could get the life Davey was set up for here in New York. He needed a fresh start. As hard as it may be to leave.

And for them? Well… It was clear that this was goodbye.

---

"So, what're you gonna do when you get to Santa Fe?" Davey asked, looking down and focusing on the gravel.

"Dunno. Probably take it in at first, send you a postcard."

Davey snorted. "A postcard?"

"Yeah, those little drawings of the places? I'll send you one when I get there." Jack promised. “I’m leaving, but there’s an amazing invention called a train, so we’ll still be in touch.”

"I'm holding you to sending me a postcard," Davey said sarcastically.

"I'd never break a promise to you, Dave."

And he didn't. A little over a week later Davey received the postcard he was promised. Jack's messy handwriting took up the back.

'I didn't lie. Love ya, Dave.'

Davey let out a watery laugh, trying to laugh instead of cry. Because Jack left. Jack's probably not coming back, or at least not for years. And oh how Davey missed him already.

And yes, Davey had a destination. Wherever Jack was, eventually Davey would join him. Santa Fe, even if it was 1,993 miles away, Davey would be reunited with Jack.

#newsies #javid #jack kelly x david jacobs #jack kelly #davey jacobs #audrey writes #newsies fanfiction

[inkbyajm]

Bottled Up

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: angst, fluff

warnings: yelling, crying, insecurities

word count: 2.2k

notes: apologies for the tardy post, i wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the whole angsty scene because i didn’t know if it was written well enough, i wanted to make sure you guys could feel the emotions that i vividly visualised and tried my best to put into words  :( i did send it to a friend to check and she seemed to like it, so let me know how it goes for you, my loves. the angst for this one was inspired by 2 different songs - hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi and i will run from you by cemeteries. it’s not necessarily about the lyrics, but more about the melody and the mood you get into listening to them (they go in order). give those a listen :) also, beware of the upcoming philosophy references, i did study philosophy last year, hopefully no one gets triggered lmao

< previous    next >

Is a person’s scent something a normal human being picks up on before taking into account the rest of their features? Would a normal human being remember said scent and be able to recognise it in a crowd full of strangers? Corpse wasn’t too sure about the answer, but one thing he did know, is that she smelled delicately sweet, like cherry blossoms, and that ever since he had noticed it during their game night a few weeks ago, he simply couldn’t let it go. It was intoxicating, but in a calming way. 

━

Corpse and (Y/N) each lay on their beds in their own homes, going into the third hour of their call. He couldn’t exactly fall asleep, so he had decided to see what his dear friend was up to, and even though she was this close to succumbing to sleep, she said nothing and stayed up to keep his busy mind company.

“Okay, hot topic: what do you think about soulmates? More specifically the romantic type?” the girl asked, not knowing how much of a risqué question it was. How was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t really have an opinion on it. Why?”

“I read Symposium by Plato the other day and it presented an interesting concept about human beings. Basically-” Of course she fucking read philosophical books. How were they even having a conversation with each other? Why were they even friends? She was on a whole other level of smart. “-so this guy says that humans were like androgynous blobs, so they’d come in two sets of everything a normal person has. But those humans were so powerful, the gods were literally shaking in their robes, so Zeus decided to cut everyone into two to weaken them. But then humans became so miserable, they spent their entire lives searching for their other halves. In the end, Zeus kinda felt bad and said fuck it, I’ll give y’all dicks and vaginas for every time you wanna hug each other. And that’s the oldest explanation there is about the idea of soulmates.” she sighed, finished with her rant.

“That was...not at all the story I expected to hear.” she heard him mumble on the other side of the call. “Yeah, Greek philosophers were up to some reeal freaky things, you would have loved them,” he laughed at her joke, “I honestly think it’s cute. Not the whole cutting people into two thing, but like, longing for someone and then finding them because you finally feel complete. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a prince in shining whatever to sweep me off my feet. But it does sound nice, that ideal comfort, a person you’re just...meant to be with, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that neither of them really minded, before it was Corpse’s turn to ask the second bold question of the night. “Have you found that person yet? Your soulmate?”

She’s never thought about it before, but she hasn’t really thought about soulmates that much either, it was a spontaneous thought she had said out loud. “I’m not sure, actually. (B/F/N) could be one, I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged in return. Wasn’t she going to ask him about it? She probably didn’t care that much. Understandable.

“My favourite quote about love is «You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.». It’s by Sam Keen, the American philosopher. It maay be the hopeless romantic in me shining through, but I do very much agree with his statement.” Did this mean anyone could have a chance with her despite their fuckups? So if he were to try, would she-?

“Obviously, there are some things that just can’t be ignored or avoided, but at that point it’s preferences and personal tolerance. Depends on the person, ya know?” she swiftly added, unaware of the effect it had on him. Sick. Some people were just meant to rot alone.

The final question was posed by (Y/N). She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at all curious. This little crush of hers had been steadily growing with every hang out, every laugh, every hug and every glance. There are rarely ever moments where one could casually discuss a topic this personal with friends, at least there weren’t with friends one had feelings for. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Corpse?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?” her voice was soft, her approach gentle.

“Well, I’ve been in relationships before, so I guess, yeah? It’s been so long, I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.” he let out a breath resembling a chuckle. Lamest fucking answer ever. But it was true. He hadn’t thought about love in that way in quite a while.

“A lot of people describe it as having an intense range of overwhelming feelings. Lightheadedness, slight shakiness, heart palpitations, some people have even reported losing their appetite. Crazy how human bodies work, huh? Oh! Speaking of chemicals-”

She had continued on to ramble about...chemistry? Eyes? Corpse couldn’t really hear what she was saying anymore, let alone concentrate on her words, as he pieced everything that’s been happening for the past few months together. The nauseating feeling. The pounding of his heart so fast it felt like he was about to die. The urge to make as little eye contact with her as possible, because otherwise he’d turn into a furnace. The obsession with her perfume, like he was some fucking creep. The fool was falling in love. And it was at that moment that everything had come crumbling down.

━

(Y/N) and Corpse hadn’t talked for a couple of weeks. Or rather (Y/N) messaged the 23 year old many times, but he’d either claim to be busy or just not answer at all. There were two possible reasons for the sudden lack of contact: he was indeed busy with his musical projects and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; or something much more serious was going on. It didn’t matter, for she was already in her car, on her way to his apartment.

Arriving at her destination, she used the spare key he gave her months ago, a sign of absolute trust, and allowed herself into his humble abode. Silence reigned in her friend’s residence. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere, and though that was unlikely, it wasn’t unprecedented. The door to his recording room was closed, and while she was tempted to check if he was in there, she refrained from doing so, knowing that specific room was not to be entered unless he was around to give permission.

“Corpse?” she called out just to make sure. There was no response for a few minutes, which made her assume she had the place for herself, until she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw his figure emerge from said recording room in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his curly hair disheveled.

“Hey, how are you d-”

“Why are you here?” he spoke flatly, interrupting her. “Well- You weren’t, um, answering your messages or any of my calls, so I thought something had happened.” she replied, suddenly nervous, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Nothing happened. I told you I was busy.”

The air around them seemed colder as tensions rose. (Y/N) could tell he was irritated, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why. She had never seen this side of him before. “Okay. Tell you what, I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so why don’t I go ahead and start cooking something up while you-”

“Get out.”

She blinked a few times, not quite registering the words that had just left his mouth. “Sorry?” Her voice was quiet. She was taken off guard.

“Are you deaf? I said get. the fuck. OUT.”

Corpse shouted the last word, making her flinch in what appeared to be fear. Good. Run away while you still can. Heart pounding, (Y/N) took a second to remind herself whom she was speaking to. “I see that you’re angry, but at least give me a reason why-”

“You want a reason? I just don’t fucking WANT you here!” Anger grew inside of him like a tumor, but it wasn’t intended for her. She had simply been caught in a storm that had been building up for years. “Do you understand that?! I can’t fucking be around you without feeling like I’m going to EXPLODE.”

His words hit her like paintballs. They were only words, plain and simple, but they dug deeper and deeper into her skin with each hit, until, eventually, it broke. Eyes burning, she felt the tears slowly welling up in them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” her own voice grew louder with frustration, but mostly, confusion.

“Maybe because I can? Because I’m a goddamn asshole?” 

“Don’t say that.”

“How?! How can I not say it when it’s the truth!” He wanted to stop. His mind told him to cease whatever it was that he was doing. However, blinded with resentment towards himself, he only spilled words he would regret after it was too late. 

“I can’t function like a normal fucking human being. I can’t be a good friend, son, or whatever the fuck else, and I sure as hell can’t love you.”

The paintballs had turned into a singular sword. A very long, very sharp sword that had found itself plunged deep inside her chest. How did he found out? When? Had she been too obvious? Had she been pushy? Clingy? Way out of line? The woman before him was unable to conceal her shock, as tears came rushing down her hot cheeks. Her voice brittle, she tried defending herself. She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to try. Try to have him see reason. “You don’t love me, that’s fine. But you didn’t have to deliver it this way-”

“But I did.” breathless with fury, Corpse clenched his fists so tight they had turned cold, yet they were still trembling. “You can get so naïve and dumb, you won’t understand things unless they’re spelled out nice and fucking bold for you.”

He closed with (Y/N) until their noses nearly touched. He noticed the way she silently shook, her eyes which shed endless tears never leaving his gaze. Unable to make a single sound, she felt the man’s hot breath on her face, his aura domineering.

“Now get. out.”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate as she just stood there. Staring back at him, her inner brows raised. Corpse wanted to hug her. Envelop her trembling figure with his and tell her he was sorry, that he meant none of it, that he had lost his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. And with his own tears threatening to spill, he created a distance between them. He needed her gone.

“Leave! GO!”

His yelling was enough to jolt (Y/N) out of her trance, and, in a hurry, she sprinted towards the entrance. The door closed behind her, she felt a sudden urge to fill her lungs with much needed air. She jumped at the resounding scream that emanated from deep within his soul, letting out all of his pent-up rage.

Feet carrying her all the way to her car parked outside of the building, the young woman managed to climb in, and this was the queue for her body to break down. The night was young. The street empty. No one around to hear her long-lasting wailing. She clutched the steering wheel for support, fingers wrapping around the leather in a tight grip. A headache was creeping up from the back of her skull. Her ears pulsated in response to the heavy pounding of her heart. Clumsily, (Y/N) inserted the key into the ignition, felt around for the gear stick, and drove away. She didn’t know where she was going or how long it was going to take to get there. She needed to get out.

What went wrong? When did it go wrong? She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel at fault. She had never seen that side of him before. He had never treated her that way before.

It was the hugs, wasn’t it? He had to have noticed the way she held on for a second too long to enjoy the smell of his cologne. Her vision blurred as she resumed softly weeping, her salty tears staining her top. Or it might have been the touchiness, she would practically glue herself to him during their movie nights. Unaware of both her actions and surroundings, (Y/N)’s breathing quickened, becoming ragged. Maybe he didn’t like the way she called him three times a week. Her hands were slowly losing control over the wheel, over the vehicle she was driving. She invaded his privacy. That was definitely it. Fuck. How could she have been so damn blind, selfish, ignorant, FUCKING STUPID.

Lights. Something was moving towards her- MOVE.

With a sharp turn, she dodged the approaching car just by a hair’s breadth, but as she had avoided one accident, another came just as quickly. 

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse x you #corpse husband x you #corpse husband fic

[moreidsdaughter]

broken (1)

spencer reid x reader

genre: angst!!

tw: depression, smoking, mentions of not eating, insomnia, suicidal ideation or thoughts.

word count: 1k

summary: in which the broken girl tells her story!

a/n: AHH! THIS IS MY FIRST SERIES AND IM SO EXCITED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU GUYS! also, thank you @geeky-son-dr-reid, @moss-honey-and-sage, and @haileyyturner for the fic beta

Sometimes I feel like a burden. As though I constantly nag people by being myself. It's sad, unfortunate; but it’s true. It’s something that weighs me down everyday, and I wish I didn’t feel this way. I wish I didn’t feel this way. I have attempted to talk about these things, in vain.  I have to  be this strong beam of light for many. I’m an FBI agent that works for the BAU. I go out and observe the psyche of criminals week after week. I know so much about the human brain, yet I can’t fix myself. I can’t fix my mess of a brain, it’s like a used machine; wiring in shambles, tangled, mangled, burnt out and used.

I hate times like these.

Depressive episodes not like TV episodes. A not-so-magical spell that could last days, weeks—months, even. I sit  on my bed all night, staring at the blank ceiling awaiting to feel something, anything at this point. My body feels heavy, like the weight of thousands of rocks pressing against the mattress. Then, after what feels like ages my alarm rings and then I know that it’s time to start my day. Work. The only thing that brings me anything near a spark of joy nowadays.

I get up and start my mindless, robotic routine. It doesn’t require much thought and I like that, but it feels so wrong. It feels wrong to feel nothing. It feels wrong to be numb. It feels wrong when your chest is light because of the lack of emotion. Wrong, but comforting. I get up, take a shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, and head out the door, with only a cigarette for breakfast. Over and over again, day after day. It's like clockwork.

I used to smoke in high school, only to burn stress and look cool. After knowing the side effects and what it could lead to, I stopped. But, I no longer care enough to stop. Perhaps it’s just me being reckless; my life doesn’t mean much anyways.

I walk into the BAU, trying my best to look lively and not sluggish. I try not to look like the shell of a human that I’ve become; I don’t eat much or take care of myself when I don’t need to. I tend to swallow all the negative emotions that I have to be dealt with later. I don’t want to cry nor talk about these issues in front of my coworkers, my friends. I don’t want to burden them with my problems and I don’t want their pity. I don’t want this pity because there are bigger problems to deal with, we have people to save. I know that my problems don't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Every “Are you okay?” is answered with a “Yes, I’m fine.” or a fake, but believable “I’m doing great!”

However, I’m not okay. I’m not fine or great and I haven’t been for a long time.

People ask that question everyday expecting a new response, but truly how is anyone going to have a different answer everyday? If they do, chances are they’re lying. Not that much changes day to day. Other people may not have the routine that I have, but what really changes day to day? The variables are the same. The people are the same, whether you have coworkers or children. Everything is the same, but with minimal changes. Minimal, meaningless changes. I rush to sit down at my desk, so the lightheadedness doesn’t take any further effect. Then, right when I think I have time to catch my breath, Hotch calls for us to meet in the conference room. I get up and walk, but stumble like an idiot. Way to make a fool of myself.‘Shit, they can’t think anything is wrong. I can’t ruin things like I normally do.’ I thought, rushing to the conference room, ready to hear about the new case.

-----

3rd POV now? Spencer looks across the room, seeing Y/n sitting down at her desk and staring at nothing. ‘It’s almost as if she had nothing going on inside, but at the same time it looked as if she were at war with herself.’ he ponders. Before he can  think any further, he hears Hotch’s call and leaves for the conference room. With his eyes still on Y/n, he gets up slowly but is startled when he sees Y/n stumble.

“What is going on with her?” he says quietly so she couldn’t hear him. The concern was evident in his soft whisper.

Y/n squabbles to stand up straight, it’s almost as if she is going to faint. His eyes are still on her, worrying about what’s to come next. He looks down, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Y/n had been like this for a while and it seemed like no one noticed but him. Maybe she hadn’t been eating enough or sleeping, and when she comes into work the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingers in the air. And he knows it’s not his business, but he can’t help but be concerned; she just seems out of it. Nobody else sees it, so maybe he’s just imagining it. But he can’t be, she’s been like this for months and it seems to be getting worse. And when he looks up, she’s walking into the conference room as if she hadn’t just stumbled.

“Pretty boy, get in here,” Morgan says with a cheeky smile on his face as per usual.

“Yeah, yeah I will.. But is it just me or is there something wrong with Y/n?” Spencer says hesitantly.

“What are you talking about, pretty boy?” Morgan chuckles.

‘So it’s just me who sees that there’s something wrong?’ Before he has the time to finish his thought, he’s interrupted by Derek.

“Maybe, you just have a crush on her,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Does pretty boy need help getting a girl?”.

“No, I don’t need your help Derek. It was just a question, so stop,” Spencer says blushing. “Come on, they’re waiting for us,” Spencer tries to change the subject. He walks quickly to the conference room, rushing to listen to Hotch’s presentation on their new case.

-----

taglist: @criminalbaby @criminalmindsvibez @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @temily @geeky-son-dr-reid

#spencer reid x reader #SPENCER REID #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #SPENCER REID FANFIC #CM #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #CRIMINAL MINDS #criminal minds fanfiction #CRIMINAL MINDS FANFICTION #my writing

[sugarsugarmoon]

Hallway Run-In

Summary: Your friend Jimin gets a new roommate, and you can’t help yourself from looking at him. neighbors to lovers!au. college!au.

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: smut and fluff

Warnings: vague mention of recreational alcohol use, protected sex

a/n: This is for the Secret Admirers collab with @heartsforbtsnet. I wrote this for @honeyj00ns​, the beautiful magical butterfly. I hope you like it! It’s not edited or anything...oopsie!

WC: 3260

You are in a hurry as you are leaving your apartment, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a wild swing before you grab your latte off the counter. You’d taken the time to go down to the cafe downstairs this morning, and you are now slightly regretting it because you didn’t factor in enough time to get ready and get off to class.

You fling open the door, fumble with your keys before finding the right one to lock the door. You whirl around to power walk down the hall when you are met with a solid wall of human.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim as the warm liquid from your cup splashes into your face and down your blouse.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you hear a deep voice say.

You aren’t looking up at the figure because you’re just staring down at your now soiled blouse. You didn’t factor in enough time to get a latte, let alone to change your entire outfit. You sigh heavily.

“Shit, shit. I’m sorry,” the voice says again.

You look up, mostly angry at yourself. “Just watch where you’re going,” you snap.

“Oh...yeah...okay.”

There’s a defiance in his voice, like he knows as well as you do that it was no less than half your fault, if not more so. You take in the figure in front of you, and your jaw immediately drops. It’s no wonder that it felt like you were walking into a wall. He stands at about six feet tall, his shirt straining over his pectoral muscles and his biceps. His honey skin is nearly flawless, and his eyes seem like they could look directly into your mind and see your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I’m just in a hurry.”

You pick up your keys off the floor and unlock your door. As you are slipping into it, you hear, “I was Namjoon” from behind you.

You change quickly into a clean t-shirt and run out the door. Once you sneak into the back of the lecture and plop down into a seat, you have a moment to reflect on the interaction you had with the man in the hallway. You feel the embarrassment starting to fill you again.

You hadn’t ever seen that man around the apartment building before, and you weren’t sure if he was just visiting or if he lived there. You hoped he was just visiting since you spilled coffee on him then snapped at him like it was his fault. You finally force yourself to focus on the lecture, but your mind keeps wandering to his perfect skin and the faint appearance of the dimples in his cheeks. You shake your head and start to write notes about the chemical compounds that the professor has put on the board. You curse yourself slightly for taking the Introductory course this far into your studies, but you needed a lab science to graduate.

After your classes are over for the day, you hurry home, the heels of your booties clacking on the sidewalk with each step. You secretly love the sound because it makes you feel powerful. You know that soon the biting wind will start to swirl around, knocking the leaves from the trees. Currently though, the sun is shining, illuminating the reds and yellows with spots of green still in the branches.

Back in the lobby of your building, you see your next door neighbor, Jimin, at the mailboxes, struggling to get his key out of the keyhole in the small metal door. He grunts slightly. You’ve always thought that Jimin was painfully attractive, like a fairy or an angel that you didn’t have permission to look at. It almost hurt your eyes. You decide to grab your mail and talk to him.

“Hey Jimin, do you need help?” you ask, as you faking casualness and sliding your key into the lock. 

He sighs and turns, and upon seeing your face, he smiles. “Oh hi, yn! No...I think I can get it.”

You giggle at the small grunt that comes out of his chest. You slide the envelopes out of your box and lock it back up. Jimin continues to struggle, and you decide that you can’t just leave him like that, with the key stuck in the lock.

“May I?” you ask

He steps aside and sighs. You close the box because he’d been fighting with it while the door was open. You wiggle the key slightly, then you hear the click of the tumblr. The door locks, and you can’t help but smile. You slide the key out with a gentle jiggle. You hand it over to Jimin with the smile still spread across your face.

“Of course,” he sighs again. “I had a new key made because I gave my new roommate the original, and the new key is just sticking so badly.”

“New roommate?”

“Oh yeah! You should come meet him sometime!”

The two of you walk to your apartment after making dinner plans for the following day. Jimin insists that you don’t have to bring anything but yourself, but you know that you’re going to bring a bottle of wine with you. You’d never arrive empty-handed to a dinner party.

The following evening, you knock on Jimin’s door just after 6:00. The beautiful man opens the door, and he looks so happy that you’re there. You can’t help but smile when you’re around Jimin because his cheeriness is contagious. He throws his arms around you, and the two of you have a slightly lingering hug. You inhale deeply, smelling his cologne, then realize what you’re doing and quickly release him.

“yn, this is my new roommate, Namjoon,” Jimin says, stepping aside.

Upon hearing the name, you feel a lightheadedness come upon you. Your brain replies the “I was Namjoon” that you heard yesterday as you’d disappeared into your apartment. You try to keep your composure as you walk over to shake his hand.

“Oh! Hi, it’s you!” he exclaims as he takes your hand. “Hi, I’m Namjoon.”

You stare for a moment before your mouth catches up. “yn,” you blurt out, “is me.”

He laughs slightly, and you want to slap your forehead from the incredible awkwardness that is pouring out of you in this moment. Usually you carry yourself with confidence, trying not to let too many people see how awkward and dorky you actually are. But something about Namjoon just makes it impossible to hide.

Jimin had ordered dinner for the three of you, saying that neither him nor Namjoon are very good cooks. It makes you laugh because you would have been fine cooking for the three of you, but Jimin had insisted on providing dinner. You eat the pasta while the three of you chat and laugh. Once you loosen up a bit, you’re a little less awkward with Namjoon. You realize that you’re leaning closer to Namjoon and try to correct, but it just keeps happening.

A few times you think to yourself “is he flirting with me?” but you decide that he’s just a friendly, charismatic guy.

After dinner, you feel happy, full, but also light from the wine. You hug Jimin goodbye, and, when you turn to Namjoon, he’s holding his arms out to invite you in. You embrace him too. It feels right and comfortable. It’s much different being intentionally pressed against his firm chest than when you ran into it the day before. It feels like you fit perfectly in his embrace. Finally, you pull away, heat burning in your cheeks.

That night in the shower, you can’t keep the image of him out of your head. He held you in intellectual conversation about life and philosophy while also looking like a god. You wonder if Jimin is part of a club for unearthly hot men where he met his roommate.

You lie in bed, trying to keep your hands from exploring your skin to the image of him pressed against you. Finally, you give in and let your brain wander, feeling the heat wash over you. Your skin feels delicate and sensitive as you imagine the muscular figure on top of you, touching every inch of you. The pressure within you releases to the image of his face. Afterward, you feel a little embarrassed and tell yourself that you can’t do that again. He’s your nextdoor neighbor for goodness sake.

The next few weeks fly by with classes being in full swing, requiring most of your time to complete the work. You feel like you spend all of your time either in class or on your computer doing homework. You hardly even have time to get groceries, just living off of take out and the odds and ends in your fridge.

The leaves fall from the trees, and the air becomes crisp and sharp. You love this time of year because it means that Halloween and Christmas. For Halloween, you go to a party with some friends, and you see Namjoon and Jimin there with more of their unreal-looking friends. He’s dressed as a detective, with the trench coat and everything. You try to keep your mind from picturing what’s underneath the tight fitting white button up that he’s wearing with a skinny black tie. 

Your friends catch you staring at him and tease you relentlessly for the rest of the night. You try to keep your back to him, so you don’t get caught looking again.

One night in November, you are lying in bed scrolling on your phone when you keep hearing what sounds like tapping at your. You check, but you don’t see anything. As soon as you climb back into bed, it starts again. You try not to think about it, but it keeps getting to you. Everytime you look, it stops. Then you go back to bed and it starts again. It gets into your head enough, that you start to panic slightly. You figure that you can go ask Jimin to just come hang out with you for a little while or something until you feel more comfortable. He’s done it before, and you know he’d do it again.

When you knock on the door, Namjoon pulls it open. He smiles at you immediately when he sees you. He looks as gorgeous as ever, with his glasses settled halfway down his nose and his hair swept back off of his forehead.

“Hi, yn!” he exclaims, and you are surprised by the enthusiasm.

“Hi, Namjoon. Is, uh, is Jimin here?” you ask, looking behind him into the apartment.

“No, he’s out tonight. A date. What’s up?”

“Oh. Okay. Nevermind.” You feel your shoulders fall slightly as you turn to walk away.

“Wait, yn, what’s up? You seem upset.”

“There’s just this sound I keep hearing. Sometimes Jimin will come sit in my apartment with me when I’m scared, since I live alone.” You shrug and try to turn away again.

“Well...I can come hang out with you. I’m just working on some stuff on my computer,” he says, an ingenuous quality to his voice that makes you feel comforted just upon hearing it.

“Oh! Well, yeah. If you wouldn’t mind just hanging out with me, that would be great.”

He agrees, disappearing for a moment into his room, then reappearing with a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Lead the way.”

You lead him into your apartment that is dimly lit with string lights in the living room. You realize that this is the first time that he’s probably ever seen the inside of your place. You tend to feel vulnerable when you let people into your home, so you don’t invite too many people that aren’t your close friends over.

You like to keep the lighting in your place soft, so you mostly use lamps and string lights. Your bedroom is a pink, pastel haven that people think is funny because you tend to dress in neutral colors, especially in the winter. You don’t think that Namjoon will be able to see your bedroom at any point. It’s not like you’re going to be inviting him in. But you still can’t help but think about the dirty clothes strewn across the floor.

You gesture for him to take any spot he wants on the couch, and he plops down.

“I like it in here. It’s so soft,” he says, turning to you with his dimples showing.

“Oh, thanks. I’m just kinda of a soft person, I guess.” 

Your breath catches in your chest slightly, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips when you hear it. You are just a big softy, but you don’t always show it. It feels nice to let Namjoon in a little bit.

You take your spot on the couch next to him, leaving some space between the two of you. You grab your phone and start scrolling again. He pulls his computer from his backpack, and the gentle tapping of his keyboard feels like music. You jump when you hear the tap outside again. You turn and look at Namjoon. He places his hand on top of yours, so you know that your eyes must give away how terrified that you are.

“Let me go check,” he says.

He gets up from the couch and goes to the living room window. You hear him hmmm-ing to himself as he looks out there, then you hear a sound of understanding.

“I think I found our culprit!” he announces to you and waves you over.

You cross the room to the window and lean out next to Namjoon. He has the flashlight of his phone shining down on a small bird’s nest attached precariously to the side of the building. There is a bird inside that was probably just tapping on the wall just below your bedroom window. You sigh in relief then start to laugh. You retreat back into your apartment, and Namjoon stands up fully next to you. You can feel the heat from his body with how close you’re standing.

He pulls the window shut and laughs with you. “See, nothing to worry about except a bird who didn’t get the memo to migrate.”

The two of you don’t move, just giggling and standing near each other. You look up at his face, and you realize how much his smile makes your heart sing. You feel a twinge between your legs and try to ignore it. Namjoon looks down at you, and soon he isn’t laughing anymore. The two of you just stand there staring at each other for a few moments, until he slides his hand around your neck, pulling you toward him. His plush lips find yours, and you wrap both of your arms around his neck, pull yourself even closer. Your chest presses against his.

Your mouths move together, then he slips his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth gingerly. You gasp at the bolt of arousal that shoots through your body. He pulls back from you, his eyes searching your face.

“Crap. I’m sorry, yn. That was impulsive. You’re just so gorgeous when you laugh,” he says, eyes cast just behind you, not making eye contact.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you whisper as you move upward to his lips again.

The hesitation in his mouth dissipates, and he wraps his hands around your waste, gently rubbing the fabric of your shirt with his thumbs. You press yourself against him, letting your fingers lace into his hair, tugging at it slightly. You push your tongue into his mouth this time, and your tongues dance together, exploring. 

He slides his hand up inside your shirt, the soft skin of his palms exploring your back and sides. You moan slightly as your hair stands up on end from the contact. You pull a couple of soft pulls on his hair again, and he presses his groin against you. You can feel the bulge through his pants, and you can’t help the arousal that is now coursing through your body.

You pull away from him and ask hesitantly, “Would you want to...uh...go to the bedroom?”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and nods. You lead him by the hand into your dimly lit bedroom, kick aside your discarded outfit from earlier. The two of you make your way to the bed. You push him down onto his back, and you straddle his hips. Your lips start to explore each other again, and you press your core against the hardness in his sweatpants. He grabs your shirt and tugs it over your head, so you do the same to him, eager to see what the bare muscles of his chest look like. You are not disappointed at the taut skin that covers the bulges on his chest and arms. You admire it for a moment before you return to kissing.

Things move quickly from there. All of your clothes are off, exploring how each part of your naked skin feels against his. and you feel like you don’t care if it’s too much too fast. He’s so attractive, he’s hard, and he’s kissing you. That’s all you could ask for. You lean over to the drawer in your bedside table and pull out a condom.

You hold it up and ask, “Do you want to?”

Once again, he smiles at you and nods.

You slide down between his legs, holding the tip of the condom and rolling it down to the shaft. You look up at him and smile a sly little grin before you lean over him and spit on his hard cock. You rub the spit in, making the whole thing slick, then repeat the same motion. He throws his head back as you stroke his cock. You do this a few more times before you crawl back up on top of him, positioning your entrance above his erection.

You slide down slowly, letting yourself take the time to adjust. Once you’re accustomed to the sensation and the stretch, you start to roll your hips, sliding up and down his length. You moan as his cock hits the most sensitive places inside you. You ride him until you can feel his cock twitching inside you.

“yn, I’m gonna…” he starts, his hands reaching up and grabbing your hips firmly.

His hips buck up against you, and you feel his cock twitch as he holds you down on his cock. You roll your hips in a small circle once he lets go, watching his abs tighten and relax as you do it. He falls back, panting slightly, and you giggle. You dismount from him. As he starts to soften, he slips the condom off and ties it. 

“Where should I…?” he asks.

You take it from him and put it in the trash can. You smile and snuggle into his chest.

“yn, next time, I promise to make you cum a bunch before I do since I didn’t get you there this time,” he says as his thumb rubs gentle little patterns on your cheek.

“Oh, so there will be a next time?” you ask, grinning up at him.

“I certainly hope so,” he says nervously. “I really like you, and that was a lot of fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” you say as you wrap your legs around his, getting comfortably snuggled in against his naked frame.

“So much,” he whispers as his lips press against your forehead.

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