#and we tried looking for flats as a four but a) a flat with 4 good sized bedrooms in Edinburgh is hens teeth

[thedreadvampy]

My housemate is moving out in January

She told us this a week or two ago, when she sat down and, after sitting with us watching TV for over an hour, said "hey so I bought a house and I'm moving out. We agreed on 2 months notice so I won't move until the end of January."

The last time she talked in the immediate terms about buying a house was in 2021, when the sale she was working on fell though and she was unemployed so it was a "when I'm back in a position to look I'll start looking again." Since then I've occasionally asked her how she's doing on the house buying front and she's been like "oh I'm getting there financially" but hasn't mentioned anything concrete.

She didn't tell us she was looking at places. She didn't tell us she had put in an offer. She told us when the offer was finalised. A week AFTER she emailed the letting agent about getting out of her part of the lease. And, it increasingly feels like, only because the letting agent's response was that we had to agree to change the lease.

The letting agent's response (which our housemate obviously didn't copy us into; we had to follow up separately and they copied us into the email chain) also includes that when we change the lease, they're empowered to change the rent, quote, "no cap". Rent was already going up in January - there's no possibility of Sam and I paying her share of the rent.

The really fucking upsetting thing is we're not strangers. This isn't a casual "housemate we found on flatshare" thing. She and Sam have lived together literally their entire adult lives. Me and her have known each other well over a decade. I lived in her and Sam's flat when I was homeless. We were the first people she came out to as trans. We're not super close but I thought we were fucking friends. And she's literally gone out of her way to not talk to us about this for what must have been months while the sale completed - which means she's lied to my face at least once cause I've asked her about her finances in that time (cause she's in a job she hates that she only took to get the house money, so it's like. when we've been commiserating about work stuff I'm often asking 'are you almost free?'). she literally went out of her way to talk to the letting agents before talking to us about putting us in a situation where we could lose our fucking home.

And she keeps. trying. to pretend nothing's happened. Every time I've seen her since then she's not mentioned anything or apologised or anything, she just keeps chatting away and offering hugs and fistbumps like nothing's happened. Like we're still fucking friends.

All it would take for us to still be friends and to be happy for her would have been one fucking sentence in the groupchat like "hey, just put an offer in on a house" or "I'm looking at properties, just so you know, that might happen in the next few months". Like nobody begrudges her for buying a house! It's very cool for her! She's 31 she's worked really hard to get the money I would love to be happy for her! Unfortunately she decided avoiding conflict is more important than giving the people she fucking LIVES WITH (who btw fronted her a month on the rent here while she was unemployed and agreed to take on a larger proportion of the move-in cost back in 2021, if we're still holding ourselves to shit we said 2.5 years ago), so no, you are not entitled to our friendship or to going back to normal.

like if she'd been honest with us it would have been something to process but we'd have had time to figure out our next steps. instead she's left us in a position where we have to find a new roommate before she gives her one month notice, which means finding someone by the end of December, which oh look that's the middle of the fucking Christmas holidays. and she didn't tell us anything until the START of December, or copy us into her conversation with the letting agent, meaning we still don't know what the rent on that space will be so we aren't yet in a position to advertise it. Has she offered to help find a roommate? Has she fuck. Has she offered to help out by moving her move-out date? Nah, she's moving as soon as she gets the keys because, quote, "that means her finances won't have to change". SOUNDS LOVELY. NOT HAVING YOUR FINANCES SUDDENLY CHANGE. I THINK THAT SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY REASONABLE FUCKING GOAL.

Thirteen fucking years she's lived with Sam. Four fucking weeks over Christmas she's left us to figure out a way to not turbofuck our living situation. And she's got the fucking nerve to try and pretend we should be interacting like nothing's changed. Jesus Christ. What a fucking unhinged way to treat...anybody, honestly. never mind the friends-your-entire-adult-life part. literally cannot imagine a scenario in which I would buy a house without telling the people I lived with.

(haha actually this is what my parents divorced over so apparently it's not unusual. although at least my dad had the decency to tell the woman he shared finances with at the point he put in an offer not the point the fucking sale went through.)

Like we'll be fine. It's a huge city centre flat with decent rent and queer housemates, hopefully even when the rent goes up it'll be an easy sell in a city with a huge housing shortage and big queer community. We've got a couple of people interested already, sight unseen - worst case scenario we have to live with someone we don't get on with. And it's given Sam and me a push to look at our own finances and as of today, we've got a mortgage decision in principle and can start looking at flats in the area - mind, we'll be transparent upfront and tell any prospective housemates that yeah, we're looking to buy and move out in the next 6-12 months, and we'll tell them if we put an offer in, because we're decent fucking people who aren't going to spring that on someone out of the blue.

But it's been I think 2 weeks and I'm so fucking angry I could spit. It's such a fucking betrayal. And frankly you know selfishly like. I just had a breakup a couple of months ago, I'm in the middle of moving jobs, both me and Sam have a history of housing instability and this has been the first decent, stable, safe, not-mouldy not-freezing home I think any of us have had, and this is so fucking triggering and upscuttling I could just start biting. like I was talking to my friend about it last week and it's just like. Can I have One Fucking Thing of the three main tentpoles of survival - home, work, relationships - that are fucking stable right now? because shit has been In Flux lately. and at least the work and relationship stuff has changed because of my decisions. going through all that work to make myself short-term unstable to gain long-term stability has been really hard and draining and then just as I was reaching the crisis point with work stuff BOOM, IT'S HOUSING INSTABILITY WITH A STEEL CHAIR. fuck. seriously fuck this and fuck her. we're going to make something good come of it but what a deeply, unbelievably shitty thing to do.

#red said #the other thing that bugs me about it is. ok and again this is old shit dredged back to 2021 when we moved in together #but i had my housemate. and Sam had her. and each of us were really close pairs who'd lived together a long time #and we tried looking for flats as a four but a) a flat with 4 good sized bedrooms in Edinburgh is hens teeth #and b) my housemate was pretty happy to live with me and Sam but increasingly felt like a 4 man flat was going to be a lot for him #and so in the end we talked about it. and through a combination of that and same housemate being in a pretty #unfavorable position housing wise. cause she was unemployed and had shit credit at that moment. #we agreed she'd move with us and Joe went and found a one bed #and in the end that's been really great for him tbh he's a lot happier and more confident and we were pretty sick of each other by then #and so we get on much better now #but at the time it was a real heartache i felt like I'd let Joe down i felt like our friendship was over #and honestly I have never been a huge fan of living with our current housemate. even before we lived here #like when i was staying with her and Sam too. she's incredibly messy and takes up a lot of space in conversations #I've always liked her as a person but she's exhausting and often unpleasant to share space with #and there's a bit of me that's like. we bent over backwards to accommodate you when you were precarious. #like it would have been WAY easier for us to look for a 2-bed during 2021. and if it was a 3-bed I'd have rather stayed with Joe. #but we moved with her for her sake. and she left Sam to clean up their old place (and there were Literal Rats) #and she got really pissy about driving the moving van even though a) that was her idea and b) she's the only person with a license #and c) i walked all MY shit over by hand anyway and the only reason she hired the van was to move her tv #me and Sam found all the core furniture. me and Sam sorted out all the viewings. me and Sam did all the planning. Sam set up all the bills. #we spotted her for rent!we took a bigger share of the costs! because we fucking cared about her and wanted her to have a fucking home! #and she can't even do us the courtesy you'd offer a fucking lodger you found on fucking gumtree

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Beyond the 305 || LS2 {4}

Summary: Australia GP - need I say more?

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, implied smut, angst

WC: 2.8k

One || Two || Three || Four

There really was a new appreciation for the effort Logan put in everyday for not just his team but for you too. You never understood how exhausting it must have been for him to balance his training and race preparation, media and sponsor duties, and flying home to you every spare moment. Now that you were travelling with him full time you finally got to see just how much added pressure it had put on him.

The London apartment, no, flat, as they called it here, was spacious enough for two people and one large dog, but it was a quarter of the size of your home in Miami. It took some getting used to, walking the length of the space in a matter of seconds or catching your toe on the furniture to avoid stepping on Sooty’s tail. But you wouldn’t change it for the world when you got to curl your body around Logan’s every night and wake up to his kisses.

“What’s your plans today, sweetheart?”

The sunrise here was watery and pale compared to Miami but it still managed to catch the blonde streaks of hair on Logan’s head. He was already dressed and ready to go for his morning run and you could hear Sooty’s paws on the wooden floor as he paced by the front door with his leash between his teeth.

“Not a lot. At 3 I have to take Sooty to the V.E.T.S,” you spell out knowing the black labrador would start sulking if he heard the word. “He has to have some extra shots now if we want to take him to Shanghai.”

Everything took more preparation when you didn’t have the usual support people around. There were different certificates needed for Sooty and new regulations for each country. It wasn’t like you could just drop him off at Dalton’s for the week. The usual help was across the Atlantic and Lily would probably be happy to have Sooty except she would be able to take him to her uni classes. Your big baby needed companionship or he would whine and howl to get attention.

“I’ll come with you,” he said with a kiss before grabbing his AirPods from where they were charging beside the bed.

“I thought you had your podcast today?”

“It’s a long flight, Alex figured we could record it on the way.”

You smiled at the thought of going to Australia for the first time. You pictured warmth, beaches and sun like you were accustomed to. It was more exciting than the other destinations so far this season. Your smile faltered as you remembered you really needed to finish packing for the evening flight and you tossed the blankets back.

“You can go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled his shoes on. “It’s only 6.30.”

“If I don’t finish packing now I will lie awake stressing about it anyway.”

The suitcases were already on the floor of the closet, his clothes folded neatly inside. One half was William’s team uniforms, the other were his personal clothes. The second suitcase only had a garment bag with a cocktail dress for a night out before the circus began.

“I thought you said you started?” he asked as he grabbed your waist and looked over your shoulder.

“I did start,” you pointed out. “Just didn’t get much past there. Someone distracted me.”

Logan’s hands started to roam your body exactly like they had the last time you tried to pack. “You should have more self control,” he teased.

“I’ve never been good with that around you.”

Logan turned you in his arms and grinned. “And I’m goddamn glad.”

His head started to dip down and his lips were already pursed for the kiss he was more than happy to distract you with, when Sooty started to cry at the front door. A deep groan exhaled as he dropped his forehead to yours, the moment stolen from him.

“I’m coming, Soot,” he said over his shoulder before looking back at your lips. “I’ll see you in an hour, honey.”

Logan stepped away with hesitation in his eyes and your hands fell back to your sides as you sent him a flirty wink. “Run faster.”

His lips kicked up and he returned the wink. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Logan found you sat on the floor in the closet when he returned with a sweat soaked shirt in his hand and a very happy dog at his side. The smell hit you as Sooty bounded into the room and you understood why he was so happy when you almost gagged.

“Sorry, sweets, he rolled in something at the park.”

“Something seriously dead,” you coughed, waving your hand to try to get some fresh air. “Oh my god, Soot, that is rancid!”

Logan caught his collar before he could jump onto your lap and started to guide him out of the room. “Come on, buddy, showertime for both of us.”

The water started running and you heard Logan’s soothing voice through the walls as he calmed Sooty down. Like most dogs, he loved water but hated baths. While they were busy, you finished off folding the last items you were taking and closed the suitcase with a satisfied huff, just in time to hear your name being called.

“We’ve got a runner!”

You dashed out of the room and grabbed an old towel from the linen cupboard before making chase. Logan’s towel hung precariously low on his hips and he struggled not to slip as he ran through the flat behind Sooty. Your laughter filled the room as Logan tried to herd Sooty into the towel you held open, but he was too agile and skidded out of your reach. Logan wasn’t as lucky and failed miserably as he tried to avoid the collision.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he gasped as he pulled you onto his lap and felt your body for any bumps.

“I’m fine.” Your giggles grew as Sooty bounded back over and shook out his fur. “At least we don’t have to dry him now.”

Logan laughed, holding you tighter as he realised his towel had been lost and he was sitting naked beneath you. He swallowed deeply and your eyes started to follow a rivulet of water as it rolled down his chest.

“Soot, time for a nap,” he ordered, his voice dropping with the heated look in your eyes. Paws padded across the floor before his cuddly toy squeaked under his head and Logan rose to his feet, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed.

Pillowy kisses warmed your neck as Logan’s hands lifted your shirt up, breaking away only long enough to pull it over your head. Dropping to his knees, he dragged your leggings down and left sweet kisses on your hips before he kissed his way back up your body.

“I love you,” he whispered as his lips finally met yours and he stole your breath with his tenderness.

“I love you too, always.”

He smiled at the promise. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer until your bodies were flush together and you felt his hard length press to your core. “Or you could just hold me.”

—

The atmosphere was jovial and Logan was relaxed going into race week. Oscar had escorted you and Logan around his hometown with Lily, showing the best spots to eat and the quieter beaches to visit with Sooty. The boys hadn’t been able to resist karting at the track Oscar had learned to race after media day ended. They had tried to get you and Lily to join but you were happy to play referee to their on-track battles.

“Logan looks more relaxed this year,” Lily commented as you both enjoyed a lemonade ice block in the shade of a tree.

“He’s got some experience now but I think that’s going to come with its own pressure. People are still expecting a lot from him, I just hope he has a car that can help him meet those expectations. He was just starting to get the hang of the last one and then the season was over.”

“It sounded like the car was going to be better this year from what Osc said.”

“I'm sure that’s what Alpine told Gasly and Ocon too,” you said with a laugh.

“Serves them right,” Lily giggled. “Alpine, not Pierre.”

“What about Estie Bestie?”

Lily wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “I only met him a couple of times but I definitely wouldn’t call him that.”

It took a lot for Lily to struggle to find something nice to say about someone, she was the sweetest, most soft spoken woman you knew. So it was enough to suggest he was someone you probably wouldn’t go out of your way to meet anytime soon.

“I do wish the guys would include Lo more. I know it hurts him to see pictures of the others getting together. Not that he says anything, he’s too polite,” you said with a sigh. “He was so happy when he was invited to play padel at Testing.”

Your eyes found his blue helmet as it raced around the track, neck and neck with Oscar’s orange one. It was amazing what he could do when given an equal piece of equipment, you would never have been able to tell that they were on opposite ends of the driver standings when watching them call a draw at the finish line.

The boys abandoned their helmets and dropped to the grass beside you and Lily laughing about something Oscar had said on the walk over. Sooty was in heaven as he rolled onto his back and welcomed the fresh hands for belly rubs.

“We should get a dog.”

Lily didn’t look impressed at Oscar’s suggestion and you distracted yourself by offering Logan some of your ice block before it completely melted.

“Just something small, like a Jack Russel,” he continued. “They can’t be that hard to look after, right?”

You barely contained your laugh as you shared an amused look with Logan that he returned, but Lily caught it.

“Just ask them,” she pointed out. “It’s like having a child, isn't it? I’m studying, you’re working and travelling, who will look after it?”

“It is a full time commitment,” you agreed. “And it takes a lot of planning to have everything prepared for travelling. I actually think a child would be easier, they only need a passport to get on a plane.”

Logan nudged your knee with his and winked. “Should we test that theory out?”

“We haven’t even set a date for the wedding so calm your loins, babe,” you said with a pat to his thigh that triggered Oscar to snort.

“Okay, no dog,” he conceded, a relief to Lily’s ears. “You guys wanna get dinner?”

You were about to take up the offer but Logan shook his head and said, “we have somewhere to be.”

“We do?”

“I didn’t ask you to pack a nice dress for it to get left in the hotel. I have something special planned,” he teased. “And no, I’m not telling you, it’s a surprise.”

Try as you might, he didn’t give you a hint of what he had organised.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Logan was struck by your beauty and his luck as you stepped out of the room in a dress that accentuated all of your features. His mouth went dry at the thought that he had the pleasure of spending the rest of his life with you.

You stepped closer and ran your palms down the clean lines of his dress shirt that had the top two buttons undone. The baring of skin showed the necklace he wore, a gift from your first anniversary. He had far more expensive pieces of jewellery but he favoured that one the most because it came from you.

“Are you sure we have to go? You’re too handsome for your own good.”

His eyes traced the peek of your tongue and it rolled across your lips suggestively and he felt his pants tighten. He did debate cancelling it all to take you straight back to the bedroom you had left but he finally wrestled his thoughts back under control. “Unfortunately, but I might cancel dessert and have you instead.”

A town car was already waiting at the front of the hotel and as it drove along you watched the city as the sun set and the street lights brightened. Melbourne was beautiful.

“We should set a date for the wedding,” Logan suddenly said as the car pulled up at the city waterfront. “Everything is so uncertain this year but you’re the one constant in my life. If I lose everything else I’ll survive, but I will always need you.”

You laced your fingers with his as you stepped out of the car and thanked the driver. “You’ll always have me, wedding or not.”

He smiled and kissed your ringed hand, leading the way to a yacht moored at the pier. “I know, but I kind of look forward to calling you my wife.”

“Kind of? I hope you’ll have more enthusiasm with your vows.” Your words were light and your smile teasing before you released his hand to board the private boat.

The light mood lasted well into the night and your heart was as full as your stomach when the boat finished its harbour cruise. You wished that mood could last all weekend, but the universe had other plans.

yourusername

yourusername date night with my favourite human @/logansargeant 💙 thank you @/lilyzneimer for babysitting our boy, Sooty, not Oscar.

You knew that look of defeat when he emerged from James’ office, it saturated his soul and leaked out through his pale blue eyes. You could count on your hand the number of times Logan had cried in front of you and your heart ached at the thought of adding another to the tally. Without a word, laced your fingers with his and walked back to the privacy of his driver room. The door shut, the sound as muted as the mood, and you opened your arms to let him fall into your embrace as he confirmed the rumours were true. Logan’s hands clutched the back of your shirt in his fists and he buried his face in your neck. “Alex is racing.”

Your heart broke at the despondent tone and you drew soothing circles across his back. He had known it was a possibility going into the meeting but had hoped his principal wouldn’t put him in a position to give up his seat for the race. Unfortunately his prayers had gone unanswered.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” you murmured as his tears hit your shoulder. “I can’t believe they are even allowed to do this.”

“James didn’t want to ask, but he’s right, Alex has the best chance for points - his history shows that clearly,” Logan rasped through the lump in his throat. He felt humiliated, disappointed and angry all at once, but he was expected to grin and bear it for the team as a united front.

Your brows knitted together and you cradled his face in your hands so you could look him in the eyes. “He gave you the choice?”

Logan shrugged. “I mean, it didn’t feel like it, but I did say yes.”

“Yes means nothing if it’s under duress,” you stated bluntly, a familiar fire warming your stomach at the thought of his kind nature being taken for granted. “Just say the word, baby, and I’ll take him to church.”

Logan shook his head and the gaping wound that had been cleaved into his chest closed a little at your protective nature. He knew you would march right back into James’ office and argue until you were blue in the face, but he feared it would only make things worse for his future prospects in the team. This was his battle to face and he was going to play the long game, even if it took playing the fool for one race.

“I know you would, sweetheart,” he said with a sniffle, wiping his eyes and swallowing down the emotion. It would have made his father proud. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said with a kiss, tasting the salty tears on his lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just…stay with me?” Logan took a few steadying breaths and rested his forehead on yours as he screwed his eyes shut. “The cameras, I can’t deal with them alone. I can already feel them zooming in on me, wanting a reaction.”

You draped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair with a reassuring smile. “Let’s disappoint them all then. Shall we?”

He took a deep breath and forced his lips to tip up into a hesitant smile that slowly grew more substantial the longer he looked at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

#logan sargeant #Logan Sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader

[little-diable]

Your drunken foolishness – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 4/?)

Chapter four, here we go! Finally we have some smut going on! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), lots of tension, descriptions of violence, Aaron is a jerk in this

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five

She woke with a quiet groan rumbling through her, eyes pressed together, trying to distract herself from her pounding headache. It took (y/n) a few moments to realise where she was, and who was laying next to her, still fast asleep. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the gloomy morning, to the features of Aaron Hotchner, not used to seeing him this relaxed.

(Y/n) almost cursed herself for being this stupid, for asking him to stay when she had disturbed his evening, too drunk to realise what she was doing. But now, as she was laying there next to him, with his arm protectively placed over her middle, no curse managed to leave her, somewhat grateful for the confidence her drunken mind had focused on. 

“I can feel you staring.” Aaron’s rough morning voice reverberated through the room, leaving (y/n) chuckling as a soft “Sorry” rolled off her tongue. He opened his eyes, slowly, almost carefully as if he wasn’t sure how to react to their closeness. Their eyes held contact, waiting until either one looked away, and yet neither of them did.

Her hand started moving before she could stop herself from cupping his warm cheek, feeling the stubble of his beard pressing against her fingertips. A hum left Aaron as (y/n) stroked his skin, wondering how she’d ever be able to pull away from the man her heart was longing for. Perhaps it was the calmness of the moment, perhaps it was the fact that for the first time in months Aaron didn’t feel the need to frown, to listen to his racing thoughts, whatever it was, (y/n) couldn’t help but thank her lucky stars for it as he finally closed the gap between them. 

The kiss was hesitant at first, giving one another the chance to pull away, to put an end to this before things could escalate, but neither Aaron nor (y/n) wanted to end this. He shuffled around, laying flat on his back, with (y/n) pulled on top of him. Their lips kept meeting, allowing the kiss to grow deeper as their bodies guided them, urged on by their longings. 

A whimper left her as her clothed heat met his growing bulge, making them groan in desperation, needing to cling to whatever the other wanted and could offer. Her hands started moving down his upper body, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch, but Aaron didn’t stop her, allowing her to find her way to his sweatpants.

“Can I?” She murmured her words against his slightly swollen lips, waiting for him to speak up, to allow her to touch him or to pull back. It took Aaron a few moments to speak up, murmuring a soft “Go ahead, sweetheart” that left her heart skipping beats. Her hands trembled as she freed his cock, unable to stop her breath from hitching in her chest as she slowly wrapped her fingers around his twitching length. 

No words left either one of them as she shuffled further down his legs, giving herself enough room to lean down, tongue meeting his red tip. A groan ripped through Aaron as he pushed his head further into the pillow, veiny hands resting on her thighs. She was spurred on by the sinful sounds leaving him, lips parted to take as much of him as she could. 

The sight of him would forever race through her mind, his dark hair slightly dishevelled, his lips bruised from their kisses, his Adam's apple bobbing with every swallow. It was a sight she’d dream of, a sight she’d think back to whenever she’d have to take care of her longings, hand buried between her thighs, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Fuck, feels so good, you’re doing so well, sweetheart.” His praises left (y/n) grinning, hallowing her cheeks as she tried to take even more of him, with tears instantly welling up in her eyes. Aaron couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over her features, trying to memorise every single inch, thanking whoever was listening for pushing her into his grasp. 

One of her hands let go of his cock to slide up his upper body, disappearing underneath his shirt. The feeling of his muscles tensing beneath her touch, while his cock twitched in her mouth, left (y/n) trembling with pride, clinging to the thought of being the only one who was able to make Aaron Hotchner feel whatever he was now guided by. 

“I should have known your chatty mouth would be my death. I‘m close, baby.” Their eyes met as he tugged on her forearm, pulling her hand from his shirt to interlace their fingers. The moment had something almost sweet to it, forcing her to bob her head even faster, pushing Aaron over the edge with a moan clawing through him. His cum filled her cheeks, allowing (y/n) to properly taste him as she swallowed every drop. 

With a shaky breath exhaled she rose from her position, squealing in surprise as Aaron pulled her closer, flipping her down onto the mattress. Their lips met for a bruising kiss, a kiss that forced (y/n)’s hands to move, finding their way around his neck, trying to pull him even closer. His lips kissed their way down her neck, hands tugging on the hemline of her shirt, wanting to pull it over her head just as the sound of his phone going off ripped them apart. 

She didn’t miss the sigh leaving him as he reached for his phone, features instantly shifting back to the all too familiar frown she was more than used to by now. Suddenly the air around them began to shift, as if Aaron had been ripped out of a daydream, once again forced to face the life he had wanted to escape from. With her fingertips stroking up and down his arm, feeling his muscles beneath them just like she had done moments ago, (y/n) kept on watching him.

“There’s a new case waiting.” No longer was his voice sweet, no longer did it carry the same adoration it had carried moments ago. “Should I drive you home?” 

She didn’t manage to hide her expression of surprise as the question left Aaron, not expecting him to push her away that quickly, secretly hoping that he’d invite her to join him once again. (Y/n) found herself getting lost in his pupils for a few more seconds before she cleared her throat, only shaking her head with a small “No, thank you” leaving her.  

……

Ever since that morning at Aaron’s place, (y/n)’s heart had been aching, torn between the pain his sudden switch of emotions had inflicted upon her and between the harshness of her thoughts, reminding her that he didn’t owe her a thing, that he had been in no obligation to tug her along. But now, as she was sitting in her usual spot, watching him present a new case, (y/n) couldn’t help but direct her anger at the frowning man. She felt his eyes on her at any given chance, and yet she avoided his gaze at any cost, not daring to meet his eyes once. 

“Can anybody tell me what you can pick up from these pictures?” All eyes were drawn to the projected pictures, bloody pictures, cruel pictures that would need a heavy trigger warning in any other context. And yet a few gasps still filled the room, sounds that carried the disgust thumping through some of the students' systems. Even (y/n) had to heavily swallow, staring at the first picture that was taken in what appeared to be a slaughter house, showing blood covering the ground, followed by a second picture showing the beheaded body of a male victim, placed down in a completely different spot. 

“The victim was clearly beheaded.” A student called out, forcing a sigh out of Aaron as he stared the guy down, murmuring something under his breath neither (y/n) nor any other student could pick up on. 

“Let's go into the details, the pictures are filled with clues you should be able to pick up on by now.” His voice carried boredom, disappointment almost, eyes searching through the rows till he found (y/n)’s frame once again. For the first time since the start of this class almost an hour ago, she dared to look at him, watching his eyebrows furry, wordlessly daring her to speak up. 

“It seems as if he was dragged out of the first place, taking into consideration the clear escalation of the murder, it appears to be something personal, perhaps it was about money, or about love. The slaughterhouse must have been either the victim or the unsub’s workplace, which adds another personal layer. Did they find the head?” (Y/n)’s voice boomed through the room, all students had their focus on her, speaking about details that perfectly fit into the profile. Aaron wore a proud smile on his lips, a rather unusual burst of happiness none of the other students had ever expected to tug on the man’s features. 

“Yes, the unsub had forced his way into another man’s house, he left it there.” Once again the room was filled with silence, big eyes staring at the professor who couldn’t help but curse himself for building this class, already fed up with those that couldn’t follow some basic instructions. “I want you all to write a three page essay about what these pictures and the details I’ve uploaded can tell you, build a profile, don’t hesitate to add as many details as you can think of. As always, you’ll have time till Friday to upload your homework. Have a good week.”

Chatter suddenly filled the room, words and voices (y/n) didn’t spare any attention to, eyes still focused on Aaron, who kept looking at her. For a few seconds neither of them moved, till he nodded his head towards the hallway, wordlessly asking (y/n) to meet him outside. She moved slowly, taking her time to pack her bag, leaving him waiting outside with a massive wave of students suddenly passing by the tall professor. 

“Come, let's go to my office.” He didn’t give her a choice, Aaron had started walking before (y/n) could either deny or accept the invitation, forced to keep up with his long strides, pushing past students who stared at him with either adoration or fright laced in their gazes. Only as they stepped into his quiet office did the two finally manage to let go of the tension clinging to their bodies.

(Y/n) didn’t dare move, she watched him place his folders down, watched him pour two cups of coffee, placing hers down on his desk. Aaron pointed to the chair close to his, the one she had been sitting in days ago, dark eyes wandering up and down her frame as she slowly moved closer, taking her seat. 

“What am I doing here, professor?” A sigh left Aaron at the use of his title, not used to her voice sounding this cold and distanced. His hand rubbed his tired features before he took a sip of his coffee, eyes not leaving hers once. 

“Please, it’s Aaron when it's just us,” a sigh left him. “I am sorry for not taking you with me that day. But, as you heard just now, the case is quite brutal. I didn’t know what was expecting us, so I didn’t want to drag you along before knowing what it was about.” A humourless laugh left (y/n), head being shaked as she straightened her posture, keeping her gaze as cold as her voice. 

“It’s not about that, and you know that, Aaron. It’s about you pushing me away, about making me feel like I was just there for you to use, and after you had enough you let go. I couldn’t care less about you not wanting to take me with you to the BAU, even though you know just as well as I do that I am more competent than any other student trying to get into the FBI.” His features grew hard once again, matching the way she now talked to him, no longer trying to ease the hurt his actions had clearly pushed upon her. 

“Let me make something clear, (y/n).” She almost flinched at the harsh tone of his voice, not used to him using this very coldness to address her, not even matching their first few interactions. “You’re my student, nothing more. Yes, you are by far more competent than the others in the Profiling 101 class, but that’s all. Seeing you outside of class and the BAU was a mistake, but that is on you and your drunk foolishness. I shouldn’t have touched you, and I apologise for crossing that line.” 

An almost eerie silence engulfed the two, quiet moments (y/n) used to bite down her tears, the angry sobs threatening to break through her. She cleared her throat, reached for her bag and rose from the chair. Wordlessly she stared down on the frowning man, and with a shake of her head she murmured a sharp “Fuck you, Aaron.” 

She didn’t wait for a reply, body forcing her to stumble out of his office with tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision as (y/n) forced herself to keep walking, chasing the once again growing distance between her and Aaron Hotchner. 

#Aaron Hotchner imagine #profiling 101 #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner smut #criminal minds imagine

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 11. Evan “Buck” Buckley

A/N: my man, my man, my man!! Hopefully we get to see you soon and I can actually get the nerve to finish season six—I only have maybe 4 episodes left? Then I’ll dive into 9-1-1 lone star while we wait. Regardless I thought this would be funny and a little creepy to write so here we are! Enjoy 😉

Synopsis: Buck loves the new house you live in together and although you’re not crazy about it…you decide to pull a prank on your boyfriend to liven up the place that perhaps leads to you opening doors for a uninvited guest?

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & HERE & I’m using: A buys a crappy sound machine and plants it in the house. While it plays ghost noises and spooky sounds, A hopes they can convince B that the place is haunted. + “Come on, if there was ever a time for me to be superstitious it’s definitely now.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @911edit

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎ ꩜

“BABE!” Buck yelled into your ear after pulling the headphone away.

You flinch as you stand up straight from the kitchen island and away from your overnight oats, “Yes?” You press with raised brows.

Buck waves his hands around, “you don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?” You question, pausing the podcast and resting your headphones to lay around your neck, “I didn’t even know you were home.”

Buck immediately frowns, “don’t tell me that. That means anybody could be hiding in here and you wouldn’t even know because of those stupid things.”

“You bought them for me.”

“Yeah to use at the gym and keep those meathead douchebags away while I’m not around.” Buck explained which made you smirk with a roll of your eyes.

“Listen,” Buck said again as you moved around the modern kitchen (that you hated) to place the now empty bowl and spoon into the sink.

Placing a hand on your hip you glance around the new open floor plan home that you and Buck moved into together. The modern contemporary home was such a contrast from the outside to the inside with its exterior being too boxy for your liking but you enjoyed the black exterior and the courtyard and pool. The inside was much lighter, from white to cream walls, along with the high ceilings which made the home feel bigger and instantly sold Buck who believed this would be your forever home.

You on the other hand were not convinced but nobody could ever say you weren’t open to trying new experiences. It’s only been four months settling in and there were still some things you wanted to change like: mainly the wall colors but Buck was convinced furniture and decor could replace that urge.

Sighing you say, “I don’t hear anything Ev,” you tap the sink on, “maybe you should lay down? Was it a rough day?”

“No, it was a breeze.” Buck fanned his hand along before resting them both flat against the White Island counter, “…maybe it’s a bird or something?”

“Well what exactly did it sound like?”

“Like scratching. Kinda like Pearla when she tries to sneak into our room at night,” Buck answers before glancing around, “matter of fact, where is she?”

“At the groomers. She won’t be ready until after four,” you inform Buck of the whereabouts of your old English sheepdog.

Buck dips his head, looking at his watch, “it’s 3:42.”

“Shoot! time does really get away from me,” you widen your eyes as you quickly finish washing the dishes before spinning around to shove it into the dishwasher.

Buck nods his head, “I’ll drive.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a nice crisp day and…I don’t want you having any accidents considering your hearing isn’t the best right now.” He playfully lifts the headphones from your neck to place down while you roll your eyes again.

You lean towards him smug, “ah, I see what this is…you’re scared to stay here by yourself because of this imaginary noise you’re hearing.”

“I’m not! And i don’t think it’s in my head.” Buck defended while you went over to the couch to shove your hoodie back over your gym attire.

“Uh huh,” you say as Buck scoffs ready to plead his case as you lock up the home behind you.

The next time Buck hears the noise is around 3am when you’re both tucked away at the back of the home in bed. It’s not a pleasant sound as his eyes snap open to the darkness of the room, the moaning and creaking almost sounds like a mixture of a whale and the cracking of a ship that meets the bottom of the ocean. Buck knows he should stop clicking on random things on YouTube before bed that leads him down a deep dive but this isn’t the first time he’s hearing that groaning sound.

It was brief before on his day off while you were at work and he was lounging on the couch watching some twisted documentary about Russ McKamey. Buck tried to brush it off as something that was on screen since it stopped when he paused the television but he couldn’t hear it while watching again. Was this truly in his head? He started to think but here he was— technically—the third time hearing the noise for much longer.

When he peaks over at you with your back to him, he lightly grips your shoulder and leans over to see that you’re still fast asleep and sits up in bed. By the edge of the bed, he spots Pearla on the floor with her fluffy ears perked up and Buck nods his head.

“You hear it too, girl? I know I’m not going crazy!” Buck whisper-yells to the dog who’s definitely more alert than you are.

Buck’s crawling out of bed with Pearla at his ankles, taking a deep inhale he opens the bedroom door to peak down the left of the hallway towards the front of the new home and only sees darkness. Pausing for a moment he listens for the noise again but the home is eerily quiet.

Buck stands there for at least two minutes before he considers closing the door but the creaking starts up again, sending Pearla flying out of the room barking as she tries to locate the noise first.

“Pearla!” Buck yells for the dog who disappears down the hallway and out of sight.

He blows a whistle with his fingers to get her attention, stepping into the hallway now but Pearla is nowhere to be seen. When he glances over his shoulder back in your direction, you’re still in fact sound asleep. Usually you’re the light sleeper out of the pair but somehow in this early morning, you’re having a grand time in dreamland.

Reaching for the doorknob, Buck slowly pulls the door closed with a soft click and begins taking the path to the main areas of the home. Pass the three bedrooms and the half bath on the left, Buck scans the dining room, kitchen, and living room to find it all empty. Confusion is written all over Buck’s face as he stands in the center of the home, hands on his hips as he’s searching but…for what?

The groaning picks up again just as a touch goes to his hips. Buck yelps, whipping around to face you who’s actually holding their composure. Buck holds onto his chest ready to let out a exhale but the look you cast behind your shoulder then back to meet Buck’s island water eyes you say, “the house is haunted.”

“What?” Buck let’s out a full exhale, trying to calm his heart rate.

You swallow, hands still holding onto Buck’s hips, “I hear it too.”

He tightens his jaw, ears picking up on the noise but now it’s the loudest it’s ever been, making you grip your very sensitive ears.

“Wait here,” Buck suggests, hands flexing as he picks up a fire poker that was left leaning against the industrial bookcase from his old apartment, “it sounds like it’s coming from the laundry room.”

You huff, feet slapping against the floor as you latch right onto the back of his shirt, “hell no! You’re not leaving me behind in this sketchy house.”

“Ohhh,” Buck sing songs, “now it’s sketchy but when I said it’s been weird lately you tell me I need a nap.”

You hiss, “be quiet, we’re supposed to be stealthy when sneaking up on a ghost.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had experience with the paranormal.” Buck looks back at you with a frown before slowly leading the way back towards the bedrooms.

“I’ve seen ghost whisperer you know?”

“…am i supposed to know what that is?”

“It’s a show Maddie and I are currently binge watching, now ssh!” Your attempt to silence the man was met but Buck used this silence to steady his heartbeat.

If this house was truly haunted then it was going to be hard to explain this to the insurance company when he’s done tearing up the place.

And we all know Buck’s not afraid of some action. His arm goes out to shield you as you both slide up against the wall opposite of the door that leads into the small laundry room. Buck couldn’t hear Pearla’s barking anymore and she did go in the opposite direction so he hoped whatever this is, didn’t harm your beloved dog.

“On my count,” Buck signals peering at you shortly to make sure you understood where he was going with this, “three…two…”

Of course he didn’t say “one” as he pushed the door back, revealing the very normal looking laundry room. Everything appeared in tack as Buck stepped into the room, hand reaching out to shove some clothes on the rack aside and then checking the cabinets above the washer and dryer.

“Huh,” Buck hummed before pulling the appliances open to find them both empty, “nothing.”

When he turns to face you, you’re hugging yourself but your brows are still furrowed in disbelief. He reaches to flick the light off and steps towards you to exit the room but a screeching noise picks up yet again. Instead of it sounding like it’s in the laundry room, it’s appears as if it’s coming from back towards the front of the home.

“No freaking way!” Buck yells, bringing the fire poker up like a bat as he runs down the hallway.

You scream at his back, “stop running towards danger you idiot!”

Buck ignores you, following the sound right to the pantry door, which is closed shut. He wastes no time, pulling the door back to reveal a gray and white Pearla fleeing from the room with a whine. Buck almost recoils at how loud the sound is coming from the pantry but steps in anyway, looking around the spacious storage room until the door shuts right behind him.

He tries the knob but to no avail, he turns back to the dark room, dropping down into a push up motion to check underneath the shelves. The thirty year old was just waiting to see something further unusual but got back to his feet just to be shoved towards the shelves.

Buck steadies his hands out in front of himself, catching himself against the shelves but not without the goods crashing onto the floor. He spins back around as the cracking noise picks up, almost making his teeth ache at the sound but that doesn’t stop him from swinging the fire poker wildly in the air. He’s not sure when the poker breaks one of the shelves but he spots a flash of red way at the top behind a acrylic container.

Panting Buck begins latching and crawling up on the shelves and swipes a hand across the top shelf, knocking the contents onto the floor to spot some sort of machine that suddenly shoots a weak steam of fog his way, followed by the creaking sound. Buck presses on top of it which sends out that screeching sound that makes Buck slip at the upsetting noise.

He’s shouting your name once he aims his footing right, landing back on it but not without the machine slipping right towards his face and knocking Buck off balance.

“I’m just glad it’s not broken,” you say for what felt like the thirteenth time as you hold the door open; ten am later that morning, leading your boyfriend back into your shared home that Buck secretly didn’t want to come back to.

The bandage on his bruised and cut up nose was prominent but Buck still sported a small smile on his face. “See what happens when you try to prank me. Now you have to tell everyone that I did in fact fight a ghost.”

The pantry door was jammed by the time you got to Buck, hearing him calling your name and Pearla barking for your attention. It wasn’t something it commonly did but you just deemed it as your anxiety getting the best of you, struggling to get it open. You were in on a bet with Chimney and Hen since Eddie (surprisingly) and Bobby didn’t want to participate—that you could convince Buck that your new home was haunted.

However you weren’t expecting for him to go investigating and get smacked in the face with the crap ghost machine you purchased off eBay. You were just happy that you weren’t the cause of Buck almost breaking his nose (you didn’t intend for the machine to slide off the shelf) but everything else you’ll take responsibility for.

“Sit,” you ordered Buck by his arms who laughed at you going into your nurturing role, “you know they’ll never believe that right?”

Buck kicks his feet up along the couch with a sigh, “but it could be a plot twist x2 with there actually being some haunted vibes going on. I mean…you did set me up.”

You pout as stood in the kitchen, “it was supposed to be all in good fun but then you had to go Rambo—being Buck. Did I mention how sorry I am?”

Buck laughs, “it’s just a scratch,” as Pearla jumps up beside him to rest her head in his lap, “it’ll heal and I can take a joke but just know…you did start a prank war for the rest of this fall season. You have no idea what you just unleashed.”

You didn’t like how Buck was rubbing his hands together in wicked joy but you’ll learn to deal with it.

“Yeah that’s what Maddie said,” you mumbled as you pulled open the fridge, “so before you come up with those ideas…I can make you your favorite breakfast.”

Buck grins, “that’ll be nice but I’d prefer a cuddle first.”

“Is your head hurting?”

Buck lolls his head, “I told you babe, I feel fine. Now get over here.”

You make a cross motion as you cautiously step over to Buck who shakes his head at you with a grin. Once you’re close enough, he reaches for your sweatshirt to yank you to his other side since Pearla made her claim on his left.

“Now that I know I’m not going crazy anymore, I can really enjoy this house with my two favorite people.” Buck curls a arm around you and rests the other along the back of the couch after patting Pearla’s head.

Resting your head against Buck’s chest you sink into the comfort each other. However that doesn’t last long with the sound of glass shattering from the mirror that once hung on the wall above the wooden chest that contained the record player on top of it.

The silence is almost deafening now as the both of you watch the pieces of the mirror decorate the floor.

Buck says, “Come on, if there was ever a time to be superstitious it’s definitely now.”

You knew a broken mirror was not a good sign and Buck started to feel like it wasn’t really all in his head as the flashes of what happened earlier this morning played back in his head. It couldn’t just be the trash machine you bought whenever and Buck really wasn’t that clumsy to trip over his feet so what gives?

Spookiness can be fun but Buck could always sense when things didn’t exactly feel right anymore? He believed in the full moon, mercury in retrograde and he strongly believed in when things weren’t just a good scare.

“So you agree, we should go house hunting?”

Again? Buck hated the process when he was on his own but with you it felt nice, like there was a definite future to look forward to.

“Yeah,” Buck states, “I think I’m done ghost hunting for awhile.”

“Hell yeah you are.” You respond, keeping your eyes towards the area just in case you saw something else that didn’t sit right with you; while reaching for your phone.

The both of you didn’t bother to debate over where you would be escaping to for the night as you searched your contacts for your realtor and fast.

꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎ ꩜

Continue with my fall anthology prompts here.

#queued #911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 fanfic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #fall prompts #Maddie Buckley #chimney han #Eddie diaz #henrietta wilson #bobby nash #evan buck buckley #howard han #oliver stark

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[4:28 pm]

“Just trust me. I’ve watched my mom make these a million times. I could make them with my eyes closed, even while sleeping!” Haechan had reassured. And you went along, following his directions, setting the heat on the oven, getting out the trays and the appliances to start making the cookie dough.

“So we need, one stick of butter and 2 cups of sugar first,” he mumbled to himself, plopping in a cold stick of butter and the full 2 cups of sugar into the mixing bowl. The mixer turned on and immediately started throwing around the hard stick of butter and flinging sugar out of the mixing bowl. “Huh, it never does this at my mom’s.”

“Are you sure the butter didn’t need to be melted or room temperature at least?” You ask cautiously.

“Hush! I need to melt the butter. I’m so smart,” he tells himself with a smug smile while he plops the butter into a bowl. Haechan throws it into the microwave uncovered for entirely too long, leaving behind butter splattered throughout the inside of the microwave.

The mixer turns on again while you clean up the greasy mess, “Now we add 3 eggs, four and a half tablespoons of vanilla, and slowly add in the flour and salt mixture.”

You watch in a mix of apprehension and intrigue while he adds only one cup of flour to the batter and begins mixing on high speed.

“So, why couldn’t your mom make the cookies this year?” You ask over the sound of the mixer.

He rolls his eyes, “They decided to go on a tropical vacation this year for Christmas and I’m upholding tradition. She sent me the recipe, but I already know what I’m doing.”

You know he doesn’t know what he’s doing. The mixture is looking far too loose and wet compared to the cookies his mom has made every year during the holidays. You also know that for the last two Christmases you’ve been dating Haechan, he has been nowhere near the kitchen while the cookies are being made because his official job is “taste tester.” A job, his mother had told you last year, that was given to him so he would stop eating the cookie dough before it was baked. You just knew this batch of cookies was going to be bad.

“Usually my mom rolls these out so we can decorate, but I say that’s too much work. I’ll do some regular circles and only do a few with the cookie cutters,” he tells you while he pours the cookie dough out onto the un-floured counter top. That’s going to be a pain to scrape up.

The dough really looks more like a dense cake batter. There’s too much egg and not enough flour, you think he even added milk for some reason. You had tried earlier to show him another recipe and give input while he pulled out the ingredients but he told you he knew, and you just gave up.

To no one’s surprise the cookie cutter cookies did not keep their shape and all the cookies had spread from being too wet. The end result was a thin, crispy disc of… ingredients that looked nothing like his mom’s cookies.

“So… I suppose I did need the recipe,” Haechan smiles sheepishly, staring at the sheet tray of “cookies.”

You look at him incredulously, “Do you really think so? This one has egg shell in it, they’re all flat and nearly burnt. Are you sure you’ve watched your mom do this a million times?”

“Yeah… I lied about that. I’ve definitely eaten them about a million times, but watching her make them makes me hungry so I come back to give them a taste test. I figured it couldn’t be too hard,” he shrugs.

“She sent us the recipe earlier! All you had to do was look at the recipe!”

He waves you off, and reaches for a “cookie.” “I’m going to let my baking do all the talking,” he says before taking a bite. You watch his eyes widen at the unexpected crunchy texture. He crunches on the cookie and swallows with a grimace. “Delicious.”

You sigh deeply, “Clean up your mess while I write down the recipe.”

Haechan salutes while mumbling about how the “cookie” was stuck to his teeth and tasted like salty egg. You roll your eyes, transcribing the recipe onto a piece of paper. A recipe with more flour than sugar, no salt, one egg, and not half a bottle of vanilla extract.

Once the mess is cleaned up, you start measuring out the ingredients, “This time you’re listening to me. I don’t want to hear a peep from you about what I’m doing wrong. Got it?”

He nods at you and begins following your directions. He lowers the temperature on the oven, lines the baking sheets with parchment paper, and sprinkles flour onto the counter. This time making the cookies goes by much more smoothly and looks like what cookie making is supposed to look like.

You sit side by side on the floor in front of the oven as the cookies bake. You watch them slowly rise and spread just slightly, looking almost identical to the cookies Haechan’s mom makes every year.

“Thank you for making them for me,” he tells you softly, pulling your hand into his lap after pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

You lay your head on his shoulder, eyes locked on the glass of the oven, “Thanks for including me in your tradition.”

-

tagging! @nct127balls 

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #haechan imagines #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan timestamps #haechan blurbs

[peachesofteal]

okay okay I’m the anon who sent in the ask about if Simon would’ve chased Darling and like…now you have me intensely needing that AU where he chases her, carries her back, and ties her to the bed 😈

AND wondering how they even got her to the flat in the first place?? Like even Darling is confused, so it must’ve been that quick for Simon and Johnny to get her from the hotel back home for her to wonder how the hell she got back there

Sorry sorry I’m just so obsessed with Dead Disco and all these possible AUs and different scenes and scenarios have me going absolutely FERAL

I could be very well tempted to write "tying to the bed" au but also, loved this opportunity to revisit Darling and the guys between chapters three and four, when she was incredibly vulnerable and in a difficult mental space. So, thank you. All my love to you! 🩵

Canon for Dead Disco - takes place between Chapters 3 and 4. 18+ Mature themes. No smut but Darling doing darling things (eating issues, alcohol use, anxiety, depressive episode, etc.) Mentions of prescription medication. 

“Do you have any clothes?” Johnny asks, rubbing your shoulder softly. You nod and point to the bag that sits haphazardly on the chair. Simon rifles through it while Johnny works the towel in your hair, trying to get it as dry as possible. You sit still for him, unmoving, and it hurts when he remembers the way you were only two months when he washed your hair, giggling against him, relaxed and happy while he massaged his fingertips into your scalp, carefully making sure everything was rinsed from roots to ends.

Something rattles in Simon’s hands, and it draws your attention, your head whipping to where he’s got a bottle of pills in his hand, a full bottle, and Johnny smothers his grimace. Simon puts it back in your bag without saying anything, but the silence speaks for itself. You haven’t been taking your meds. 

“I’m sorry.” You lament, voice choked with tears, and Johnny pulls you into his chest, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

“Shhh. It’s alright, we know.” His heart breaks for you, for what he knows is going on in your head, for how you must feel. Abandoned. You felt abandoned by them. You felt like you were on the outside. You felt left behind.  He swallows the guilt, not allowing his own unsteady emotions to take over, instead choosing to finish with your hair and coaxing you out of your robe to get changed. 

“Are we…” you begin but trail off, and he holds the t shirt that Simon pulled from the bag towards you. “really going to get a new place?” you finish once your head pops through the hole, and he realizes it’s Simon’s t shirt. You were wearing his own when you answered the door, and he wonders how much of your bag is actually their clothing.

“Yes, darling.” Simon answers. “But first we need to get you home.” You stare at him kind of blankly, a little void-like, before you blink and nod slowly. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay? You’ll let us take you home?” Simon clarifies, because he needs it. Johnny knows, he needs to hear it, the permission, the allowance for what comes next. 

Control.

“Yes.” You whisper. Simon looks at him, and it’s all Johnny needs to understand. Stand down. Let me handle it. Lock step. Johnny nods. 

They get the hotel room together pretty quickly. You sit on the bed with your legs crossed the entire time, eyes burning a hole in the wall, vacancy still present there, unmoving until Simon prompts you, encourages you to stand, where Johnny hesitantly offers you his hand, to hold. Take it. Take it, please darling. Trust me. I’m here. I’m right here. 

You stare for a long moment, before you’re finally clutching onto him, letting his fingers intertwine with yours as he moves you towards the door. 

When the three of you get to the elevator, you falter. You step away from the both of them, letting go of Johnny’s hand, panic rising through you, your eyes darting between them and the elevator. 

“Darling.” Johnny tries to reach for you, but you step back. 

“I-“ you gasp, and then press your palm over your heart, like it aches, like you’re physically hurting. “I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sob, the sound tearing into Johnny, shredding him apart and he gapes at you, momentarily confused. No, no no. Come back to us. “I don’t- I don’t know.” Simon moves, fast, into your orbit, wide palm streaking across the dead air to hold onto you, pulling you into his chest while gripping your neck. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to act as the fail-safe, the thing that they turn to sometimes when presented with no other choice. The shutdown button. It settles you easily, gently, and pulls you back into yourself in moments like these. “I’m sorry.” You blubber, while Simon walks you backwards, slowly, until you’re pressed against Johnny, and his arms come around you easily.

“Stay with us, darling. Stay here. With us.” He coaches you, trying to keep you present, keep you calm while kneads his fingers against your shoulder. He vaguely remembers the still cold, half drank beer that was sitting in the dresser in your room, and it clicks together a bit more, why you’re so upset in this moment, compared to the tired, subdued, near catatonic state you’ve been in for the last hour. Alcohol is a depressant. And for you, and others who struggle similarly, it can make or break you. It can leave you feeling anxious for days after over consuming, can make your heart hurt and your brain confused that much more easily when you’re vulnerable like this. Johnny knows this. “Love, look at me.” He taps your jaw while Simon shuffles your bag back onto his arm and presses the elevator button, all the while still rubbing your neck. You peek up at him, face still half burrowed in his chest, and he takes the opportunity to ask. “Were you drinking earlier?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I’m so-“ 

“Don’t.” Simon soothes you. “Don’t apologize, darling. You’re okay. Everything’s alright now. We’re going to get you home, and get you into bed. Maybe something easy to eat if you feel up to it, okay?” 

“Okay.” You mumble. You keep yourself pressed into Johnny and he can’t help but soak it up, loving the feeling of you in his arms, safe, here, with him. Not gone. Not MIA. Here. 

You fall asleep in the car. Johnny holds you in the backseat, the entire time, and nobody speaks. Simon occasionally checks on him via the rearview mirror, and then reaches his hand behind the driver’s seat to squeeze Johnny’s knee. It’s a comfort, and Johnny just wants to fast forward until the three of you are together, at home, in bed. 

He wakes you when they pull into the parking garage, managing to rouse you enough to get you into the elevator, and by the time the doors are opening on their floor, you’re fully awake, your hands twisted together while you walk. He breathes deeper, breathes easier, when the front door opens, and he walks through, turning to coax you through the doorway with an outstretched hand and open palm, as Simon stands with every muscle tense, his eyes not blinking, not willing tear his gaze away from where you linger, and he knows its because he is afraid you'll bolt. Johnny's not sure he could keep him from chasing you down at this point, and when he glances at him again, he sees how his body is thrumming with nervous energy, ready to break into a sprint at a split second’s notice.

Come on, love. Come inside. 

“Darling?”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader

[jaemified]

same dream, same mind, same night - hong jisoo

“ive waited this long to be with you. what’s another few months?”

pairing; joshua hong x fem!reader

genre; angst, childhood best friends/brothers bsf, kinda fluffy, unrequited love, friends to lovers

warnings; swearing, drinking, mingyus mean but hes just drunk, y/ns scared of commitment (arent we all), mention of bruises/scraping against concrete, and blood (blood parts pretty brief)

wordcount; 3.0k

synopsis; confiding in her longtime best friend after the end of a rocky relationship, choi y/n begins to heal once more and realizes what’s been waiting in front of her after all this time.

note - i love samex3 sm+i wanted an excuse to write w this song and for josh soo

read below the cut !

“you can’t just leave me here!” y/n exclaims to her boyfriend of four years, stumbling out the back door of a club to follow the man before her.

the loud music echoed throughout the alleyway, ringing through y/n’s slightly pounding head though she wasnt nearly as drunk as mingyu.

“actually i can, the car is registered under my name anyway.” he scoffed as he wrapped his arm tighter around his one night stand’s waist.

“and how are you supposed to drive? you’re absolutely wasted.”

“i’m not wasted, in that sense. but i realize how much time i’ve wasted on you.”

y/n grabbed her boyfriends arm, clinging onto him with watery eyes and a shakey grip. she ignored the way the desperate girl next to him gave her a dirty look, rolling her eyes.

“you don’t want to do this mingyu.”

“no,” he lowly chuckles. “you don’t want to do this, y/n.”

he shakes his arm harshly as y/n’s hold on him began to slip, before the girl tugged on her forearm, shoving her backwards into a puddle of god knows what.

y/n ignored the bruises beginning to form on her knees as she scraped against the rough concrete, struggling to get up with weak knees.

the ‘couple’ turns around, walking away towards the other side of the street.

“are you fucking serious? you’re gonna throw away a 4 year relationship for some girl you met at the club?!”

“you’re spewing nonsense, you’re drunk, you should just go home sweetheart.” the girl yelled back in faux pity, pulling mingyu into a kiss while she knew y/n was watching.

it was heartwrenching sight. y/n felt her heart ache, her stomach drop, eyes heavy, head hazy.

“mingyu! stop! please.” she called after to no avail.

with her already shaky knees, she tried to run after them only to trip and scrape herself more harshly then the first time.

she winced as she saw the blood begin to draw, the dirt falling into the open wound.

it was a rather big gash for a small fall, before she realized it was a broken glass bottle she had tripped over.

it was raining now, pouring rather heavily.

y/n sat flat on her butt in the middle of a sketchy alleyway. she began to cry, not just from the ache of the glass digging deep into her flesh, but from the ache in her heart mingyu had left her with.

she sobbed loudly, clutching her chest. she began to curl up into a ball and hugged her knees tightly.

with every drop of the heavy rainfall, her sobs only grew more painful she could feel herself running out of breath.

y/n was pretty fucked. stuck in the middle of who knows where, in a pretty bad area not to mention she was caught midstorm, left with no money (as mingyu used the rest of her money on drinks while she got up to the bathroom), no umbrella, phone in low battery before she realized-

wait.

with her vision blurred, she dug into her purse for her quickly dying phone.

through all the old receipts and packs of gum, her white phone with its clear case still stood out the most. inside the clear case was a polaroid. of her, her brother (seungcheol), and their best friend, joshua, as kids sitting side by side in the sand.

she laughed sadly as she looked at baby her, with her arms wrapped around both josh and cheols necks, the three of them flashing bright smiles.

well shit, she finally snapped out of it and realized what she needed to do.

y/n unlocked her phone, quickly scrolling through her favorites in her contacts.

‘4%’ the upper corner of her phone flashed.

she thought of who to call yet no one seemed to be a good choice.

seungcheol? no, he’d get mad and yell a lot.

jihoon? stuck at work, as always.

wonwoo? working the late shift at the cafe.

mingyu? absolutely not.

y/n thought hard before one familiar name popped up in her mind. how could she not have thought of him?

she scrolled for his contact, finding it, then questioning how she missed it when he was third on her favorite contacts.

calling shua🫶

the loud buzzing of his phone caught both his, and his friends attention, interrupting one of their late gym sessions on a random saturday.

“who could be calling you at this hour?” chan questioned, putting down one of the two weights he was lifting.

“his beloved y/n!” soonyoung teased with a soft grin.

“its not even that late? its only like 10.” seokmin said with a hint uncertainty attached at the end before he checked the time.

joshua brushed off his friends, stopping the treadmill as he paused his music before he had checked the contact name.

‘incoming call from y/nn!<3’

“hey, how are you?” he asked with a genuine smile.

“fucking terrible.”

“are you okay, do you need help?”

“are you free right now..?”

“i mean yeah, im just at the gym with the guys. what’s up?”

“hate to be a bother but can you please come get me?” she emphasized.

“why, what’s wrong? i mean- not why like, ill pick you up either way but just kinda, you know-” “stop being like that and just go get her already!” chan yelled with his distinct laughter.

y/n sniffled, quickly wiping her eyes before chuckling in response, “hi channie!” she spoke with as natural of a voice she could put up.

“she said hi channie.” “dont be jealous!” soonyoung teased.

she smiled at how natural they were with each other, and also at how easily joshua got annoyed.

he walked out the gym of the apartment complex and stood outside the door, ignoring how he had 3 sets of eyes on him.

“okay, im alone now. what happened?”

“ill tell you what happened in person, just please hurry. im kinda injured and also soaking wet. rain really isnt friendly.”

josh walked back into the gym, quickly grabbing his sweater and keys, signaling to the guys that he’d be back later as he pointed towards the parking lot through the window.

“im leaving now. where are you?”

“i dont know, mingyu was the one driving. ill just drop my pin.”

“that bastard i swear if he hurt her..” he mumbled, thankful it wasn’t heard by y/n.

“thank you shua, i really do owe you.”

“it’s fine. that’s what friends are for right?”

“yeah. love you.”

“love you.”

he sighed as he remembered you were just two best friends, nothing more, nothing less. and yet you still had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

y/n squinted when the bright headlights flashed in her eyes as joshua pulled up in his black sedan.

he quickly ran up to y/n with his umbrella, unzipping his gray hoodie and wrapping it around her cold, bare shoulders while the spaghetti straps of the black dress slipped off.

his eyes fell as he saw how puffy hers were, her red cheeks, and bloody scraped knees.

handing the umbrella to the girl before him (and telling her to make sure she’s covered, saying to not worry about him getting wet in the process), he picks her up by the underside of her knees and arms, carrying her to the car.

joshua puts y/n down to sit on the hood as he opened the passenger seat, making sure she has enough leg room, not wanting her to scrape her knees any more then she already had.

he picks her up once more, setting her down inside before taking the umbrella and closing the door for her.

“ill take you back to cheols?” he mumbled as he backed out into the street, pressing his sneaker into the gas pedal.

“no no no no god please don’t. he will kill me and i really don’t want to have to deal with that. can i please spend the night with you?” she begged, grabbing onto his muscular, veiny, covered in rain droplets, arms.

he sighed, looking over to her with a soft gaze, meeting her hurt eyes. he changed the navigation on his phone and entered in the address of his apartment complex. “how could i ever say no to you?” he flashed a lazy smile, rubbing circles into her hand.

realizing his right hand had subconsciously made its way to her rest on her thigh, he half-mindedly pulled his hand away before he felt y/n pull him back, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“so what happened? not to be, you know. but im really worried about you. you’re lucky cheol wasnt there when you called me you know.”

“i know and im sorry, it’s just- I didnt know who else to go to.”

he hummed as he stopped at the red light. joshua turned to face y/n again, repeating his earlier words. “well, how could i ever say no to you?” he mumbled as the green flash illuminated his face in the dark light.

“you know how gyu can be. but this time he just drank way too much i guess and lost it. it started at the high school reunion party last month. he got drunk and ended up sleeping with someones sister who’s like 4 years younger, she was like in 8th grade when we all graduated.”

“damn we’re old now- oh, sorry. i thought it was a girl he met at the club?”

“that’s what i thought. but she was here with her brother and he told me everything. they were meant to be a one night stand since he thought they’d never see each other again but we just so happened to enter the club as they were leaving. after he told me, i ran out after gyu but he abandoned me.”

she didn’t miss the way joshua’s jaw clenched.

“ill kill that son of a bitch i swear.”

“it’s okay, really-”

“no! its not fucking okay!” he shouted, apologizing before he realized how loud he was.

he parked in his parking space before turning off the engine to talk to her, face to face.

“choi y/n. you are a special girl, a once in a life time even, and you deserve to be treated as such. and if someone as stupid as kim mingyu cant see that then why don’t you go for someone who does?”

“like.. who..?”

“like, hong jisoo.”

“hong jisoo? i- ah.”

y/n gave him a pitiful look, and that’s all it took to get the message across.

“shua..”

“no. i get it, i can’t expect you to feel the same way especially since it hasn’t even been 3 hours since you broke up with mingyu. and even after that i can’t expect you reciprocate my feelings either way. but, even so, ill always be here for you. no matter how you want me, as a boyfriend or more realistically, a friend.”

“joshua. i love you, i really do. you know i do but,”

“-but as nothing more as a friend, yeah? its alright. i really didn’t want to say anything but it just slipped out. i didn’t want to stress you out because i know what you’re going through is hard. i understand. but what we feel for one another is a different type of love,” he stopped to gesture two different points moving in opposing directions with his arms.

“to different for our own good.” was all he said before getting out the car to carry y/n upstairs.

-

y/n winced as he put ointment into the fresh wound where the glass once was, looking away from josh as he held her leg, directing her gaze to the bloody chunk of glass that sat in the sink.

“soonyoung is staying at chan and seokmins place on the seventeenth floor, but i want you to take my room, and ill stay in soonyoungs since i have a softer and bigger mattress.” he whispered, making eye contact with her as he left an innocent kiss where the bandage covered her skin.

she whimpered as the events of today hit her with the small kiss, unsure of how to proceed.

y/n ran her fingers through her hair, still damp from the shower she had just taken.

“can you stand?” he asked offering his hands to help her down the counter, looking over the many bandaids covering all her scrapes and bruises.

she took his hand and tried walking around the kitchen. she had a bit of a limp, yet was still a bit stable.

“here, take this tylenol and you can wear the hoodie I left on the bed since I know you get cold, ill just shower first.”

she sat on the bed, hugging the shirt she currently wore which joshua had lent her, before slipping on his black zip up hoodie. it had smelled like him, and his familiar, comforting vanilla shampoo she recognized all too well.

she fell back onto the mattress and let her mind be consumed by her thoughts, falling asleep yet only for a short while after.

she later awoke at the sound of joshua digging through his drawers for a white tee, being able to catch a glimpse of his toned body before he slipped the shirt on.

he turned around to y/n, bending down to tuck her stray hairs behind her ear, pressing a kiss into her forehead. “goodnight.”

before he could fully walk away from the bed, y/n grabbed his arm. “stay.” she sleepily whined.

“you need your own space so you can heal, i dont want to accidentally hurt you or anything.”

“you could never hurt me. so just please stay.”

“y/n..”

“please? what happened to you can’t ever say no to me?”

he playfully scoffed before giving in and slipping into the sheets.

y/n dug her head into the crook of his neck, smiling at how he shivered whenever he felt her hot breath against him.

“goodnight shua.”

-

of course, when cheol found out he was absolutely pissed. y/n would wake up from hundred of missed calls from mingyu, begging for her to take him back after he realized what happened. cheol (and josh.. and, chan?) ended up giving mingyu a bit of, talking to. he learned his lesson didnt he?

it was now over a year, almost two, later. winter time now. joshua had taken y/n to the han river bridge at night. they walked along it together.

with mingyu out of the way, josh and y/n became inseparable (more so then they already were) and drew even closer to one another if that even was possible.

with time, y/n began to realize what it is she wanted. joshua hong. after all, they had always shared the same mind, same dream, all within the same night - ever since they were kids.

“can i tell you something?” she asked, looking down at the river below.

“go ahead.”

“i think, that i like you. and im not sure when or how but you were just always.. there. i don’t know why it took me so long to realize what was there waiting for me, right in front of me.”

silence.

“that’s too bad. because i don’t think i like you, i know i love you.”

“ew you’re so cringey!” she exclaimed, jokingly pushing his face away from hers.

just as joshua reached for y/ns hand, she pulled away. “but before you say anything else, i need to tell you something. i don’t think i want a relationship- or, no i do! just, im scared. i feel like i need a short while longer but i really do wanna be with you,” she paused, thinking of her next words.

“its not that i don’t trust you. im just scared of whatever that was happening again, or if mingyu comes back or something. just, give me a month?”

he smiled, and pulled her into a hug, letting y/n’s head rest on his chest.

“ive waited this long to be with you. what’s another few months?”

y/n felt her heart melt at such a simple yet meaningful statement. she wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“ive dreamed of being with you since we were kids. you dont know how much it hurt me when you started dating mingyu. and i knew your brother wouldnt dare to let his one and only little sister date his best friend.”

“well. none of that matters now, because it’s in the past. you have me now dont you? and don’t worry about cheol, he’d just want us to be happy. and if he doesnt then that’s just him being a big baby.”

joshua laughed in response, smiling as he held y/n tightly in his arms while they watched the city below, over the river.

she knew she was right giving a guy like joshua a chance.

i will never change.

promise me eternity,

if you feel the same way as i do

they had both dreamed the same dream for years, and now here they’d be, spending the same night together forever.

he knew in that moment she had been worth the wait.

joshua hong’s (almost) finally got to call the girl of his dreams, his, and he couldn’t be happier.

#kpop imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #joshua x reader #joshua hong #hong jisoo #svt joshua #joshua hong x reader #svt #seventeen #hong jisoo x reader #seventeen smau #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #joshua fluff #seventeen joshua #kpop #hong jisoo fluff #joshua smut #jaemified

[kikker-oma]

short fanfic? Yes!

Christmas theme? Yes!

“Wake your a**es up losers!” Wind’s voice rang through the ranch, “It’s Christmas!!”

Time rubbed his eyes and gazed at the clock. “4:00am? Seriously Wind?” He groaned and sat up. Even his wife, Malon, the strongest girl he could ever know, was still asleep.

“Wind, let’s settle down. It’s still early you know.” Warriors tried to coax the teen back to bed. Less for Wind but more for the ever waning patience.

“Nah, I want presents.”

“…Of course you do.”

Surprisingly, Four was the first one to open up his present. Beneath the red rapping paper, a beautifully crafted iron hammer, with faint beautiful markings throughout the tool, stood in his possession. “I needed a new one for quite some time… thanks guys!”

“that’s for work?? I thought it’s used to smash pots!”

“LEGEND.”

Wind was next. He basically stripped the present raw in… two seconds flat. “MONEH! I’M RICH!” The pirate yelled.

“But those are seashells?”

“I can sell seashells by the seashore.”

Twilight carefully unwrapped his gift. His fingers curled around a saddle, worn down and scratched on the edges, but filled with love.

“You know, it used to be our old girls,” Malon looked through the window to the barn ahead, “But it’s not much use to us now that she’s settling down, it’ll be much more use to you.”

That is when the couple learned great-great-great-great-great grandsons give the best hugs.

Hyrule gazed at the new pair of boots in his arms. “Woah… these are wonderful. Are you sure they are for me?”

“Knew a shoemaker once, trust me, they’ll make you run faster than ever before.” Four winked.

Hyrule gave at LEAST 20 continuous thank yous for the rest of the evening.

Legend tried to keep a stoic demeanor as he unwrapped his gift. “Romeo and Juliet? Isn’t that romance?”

“Come on, we all know you’re all for it.” Warriors smirked.

“Shut up… but thanks I guess.”

Wild ran his fingers through the embroidery scarf. “This looks stunning, who made this?”

“I did! Skyloft was pretty cold, from being in the sky and stuff, so I decided to pick one of our most famous fabrics. The embroidery was all mine though, and I’m sure it will help keep you warm for the winter months.” Sky smiled kindly.

“Will you fix it if I tear it?”

“Already have 17 backups.”

Warriors, surprisingly clad in actual clothes (not to mention his hair is perfectly brushed? Did he even go to bed?) unwrapped his gift with precision.

“A mirror? You know me so well!” He smiled, knowing the captain, this will sure come to great use.

“That’s not all,” Time smiled, “Crafted straight from the lava of Death Mountain, its sturdy for the road.”

“You really put in that much thought for me?”

“Of course son, you deserve it.”

“Careful, this one’s fragile.” Malon smiled as she handed Sky a gift wrapped in cloth.

Sky carefully unraveled the cloth to reveal a tiny, but familiar bird. He heard its name before. Clucko? No… right! It was a cucco.

“I love it! It’s so cute!”

“We are letting you keep it as long as it doesn’t come in contact with anybody in any way.” Legend grumbled.

“Darling, this one’s for you.” Malon handed Time a carefully wrapped present. Time’s fingers slowly pealed away the wrapping paper, and softness immediately enveloped his finger.

9 crochet squares, all sewn together.

A deception of a forge, intense yet pulling things together.

A vast ocean, and a red boat riding the waves.

A goat, with beautiful horns resembling Ordon.

A map, holding a sense of adventure.

A flower, holding a sort of dream like resemblance.

A sheikah crest, holding symbolism and order.

Swords and shields, crashing together yet have some sense of balance to them.

Islands floating in a vast open sky, with giant loft wings circling around.

In the middle of it all,

Home. The ranch. In the center stood a beautifully crocheted deception of Time and Malon, yet they weren’t the only people in this art. 8 other boys stood around, holding a resemblance of courage.

“Merry Christmas, old man!” The eight boys smiled in unison.

This would be a Christmas Time could never forget.

Yeah this didn’t turn out short LOL

🥹🥹🥹

Awwee this was so CUTE!!!

Each of those gifts is precious (even winds pun with the seashells lol) and Times blanket with all of the squares representing the boys is

Thank you for writing this and Merry Christmas!!!

#sweet blarefordaglare #fics for oma

[blorbocedes]

Galex without any feeling at all

"Cheers, mate. That'll be all then." George rubs his hands together emphatically, like something out of a business manual, and calls for the cheque.

What the fuck?

"You're taking this surprisingly well." Alex tries to not let the bitter acridity colour his tone, but fails. Alex has mulled over this decision for weeks, agonised over it, and quite honestly -- ignored it as long as he could, and here's George his boyf his now ex-boyfriend of 4 years ordering a Sunday croissant like it's nothing. He showed more emotion when the Queen died, and the Queen didn't fuck him Wednesdays and Fridays after dinner.

"Should I chuck a butter bun and cause a scene if that makes you feel better? I mean, I saw it coming from a mile away."

"You saw it coming from a mile away?" Alex sounds incredulous. George's stupid fucking shirt collar is popped half open, and in any other case Alex would've leaned forward to fix it. Can't do that anymore.

George shrugs. "Since dinner at Lando's. I was wondering when you'd bring it up. I've gone over every scenario, I made a list, you could even say I pre-grieved. Sorry."

Dinner at Lando's was four fucking months ago.

"We were fine at Lando's."

"You talked about moving cross country for a promotion."

"I-- what? When? That wasn't even serious."

"Sounded pretty serious."

"You're really going to --"

"Your cheque, sir." The waiter interrupts them, and Alex's head is spinning at the revelation George made a fucking list. And what, Alex has been getting a failing grade? It's so much worse because he had no indication things were bad since Lando's, didn't know George got his fucking grieving done out of the way. He slumps in his seat, George swiping his card.

"Listen, we can spin in circles all we want. It won't change anything. We didn't work out. It happens. Have a nice life, Alexander. We can email on how to divide the flat."

George puts his prick sunglasses on -- sunglasses that make him look like a prick -- and gets up. Alex registers a second too late that George had hesitated for a moment, as if to shake hands or reach out to touch him, before thinking better of it. Alex shakes his head in disbelief, so much for an amicable breakup. An email. 4 years condensed to an email, delivered in fucking corporate speak.

What he doesn't know is George's eyes stinging behind the sunglasses, crescent moons in his palm where he's dug his fingernails into, trying to recite the script.

#breakup prompts #evil evil prompt #ohhhh you thought I was gonna write alexander without feelings 👹 #galex #f1 rpf #my ficlets #blorbocedes ask

[winchester-books]

Four Months

Based On: obx

Characters: jj x reader

Warnings: mild lang / sexual references

W/C: 600

Summary: you accidentally let it slip that you and jj are dating- but by “accidentally” you mean you thought the rest of the pogues knew the whole time

You smile down at the “im here” text you’d just gotten from JJ, standing up from your place on the couch, “I gotta get going,”

“Where to?” Kie perks up, her eyes not leaving the TV screen.

“Date,” you reply, smiling as you walk to the door.

“Date?!?” John B blurts out, making Kie and Pope look up from their movie, “With who?”

“Ha ha,” you roll your eyes, grabbing your backpack, “Very funny,”

“No, seriously, with who?” Pope pipes up, Kie looking expectantly over his shoulder at you waiting for your answer.

You frown, looking between the three, “Your joking…right?”

They merely stare back at you, clearly not knowing who you were talking about.

“Uhhh… my date, with JJ,” you furrow your brows as Pope’s mouth drops open, “Obviously…”

“I’m sorry- WHAT?” Kie stares at you, gaping and hardly able to say anything else.

“You and JJ?” John B looks as confused as ever, trying to put together the pieces, “JJ as in my best friend?? Like 6ft blonde surfer guy… Like, JJ Maybank?

“Our JJ?” Pope adds, eyes wide.

You don’t get the chance to respond when the door to the chateau swings open, “Ready?” JJ flashes you a grin as he locks eyes with you.

“You two are together?!” Kie nearly yells the words as she jolts up from the couch, clearly in shock and disbelief.

“Yes?” JJ answers with somewhat of a question, unsure why the three are looking at him like he was crazy. He shifts his gaze back to you, raising his eyebrows and silently asking what the hell was going on.

“What the hell?” Pope is standing up next to Kie now as he crosses his arms, “Since when?” He demands.

“You guys are dating???” John B sounds exasperated, trying to keep up with the shocking news.

You share another confused look with JJ.

“Is this some kind of joke?” You deadpan, searching their eyes for any sign of humor and finding nothing.

“Guys,” JJ cocks his head to the side, “We’ve been together… we’ve been together for like 4 months now,”

“WHAT?”

“What do you mean, “what?”” You can barley contain your laughter as they nearly lose their minds, “You guys can’t be serious- it’s not like we kept it a secret! Where do you think we run off to all the time?”

“Four months?” Pope is speaking to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You guys are shitting me, right?” JJ stares at John B who is shaking his head no.

“I guess we never flat out said we were dating, but we just kinda assumed you guys knew,” you shrugged, truly amazed that none of your friends had picked up on it.

“I mean come on guys, you’re telling me you’ve never heard us?” JJ’s eyes drift to the spare bedroom of the chateau that he’d basically claimed his own since he came over so often. “Not to pat myself of the back, but she gets really loud-”

“JJ!“ Kie cuts him off abruptly and you bury your burning face in your hands in embarrassment.

John B looks in horror at the door and makes a face like he’s going to throw up.

“Real classy,” Pope frowns at JJ’s crudeness.

“What?!” He puts his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry, but I’m not wrong-”

“JJ!” You smack him on the arm, mortified. “Nobody wants to hear about that- let’s just go,” you drag him out the door and he sends the room a sheepish smile and a wave.

“We’ll be back later tonight!” You promise, trying to pull the door shut before JJ can say anything else.

“I’ll try and make sure Y/N is quiet-” The sound of you screaming at him to stop fills the air before the door finally slams shut, leaving John B, Kie, and Pope dazed and confused.

“What the hell just happened?” Kie ran her fingers through her hair as she tried to fully process what she’d just witnessed.

“I couldn’t even tell you if I tried,” Pope said, shaking his head in shock.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx #outer banks x reader #jj maybank fluff

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to empty the food waste bin every single day?

I (22f) am a uni student sharing a flat with three other friends. As most people will be finding at the moment, we're having a real problem with fruit flies. Not like an infestation or anything, just enough of them around the flat to be annoying. Our flat sits over a pizza shop and our kitchen window looks out over all the bins which I think makes the problem worse.

To begin with, we tried keeping our food waste bin (one of those small countertop ones) by the door outside. It made a small difference but not enough to justify how annoying it was to go down the stairs each time we wanted to throw away a teabag or an apple core, so we voted 3:1 to put it back in the kitchen. The minority voter (22f), let's call her Jane, suggested that we instead empty the food waste bin every single day.

Me and another flatmate, let's call her Debbie, said we were fine if she wanted to do that herself but that we didn't want to do it too. We have a bin rotor in the flat and each of us has a particular day on which we're supposed to empty any bins that are full. Jane was proposing that the food waste bin gets emptied every day regardless of how full it was. For context, it usually takes the four of us 3-4 days to fill up the bin. We said that we didn't see the point as it wouldn't make enough of a difference to bother, and we didn't want to waste the biodegradable binbags by going through 1 a day as they're expensive.

Jane got really upset that we refused to cooperate, even though we emphasised that we had no problem with her taking on the extra labour and costs herself, accusing us of ignoring her particular comfort needs. We said we didn't think it was fair to ask us to go above and beyond what is considered normal for the sake of her comfort, but she claimed that it was normal to empty a food waste bin every day (despite the fact it would take a family a good few days to fill one up) and that this was how her family had always done it (even though she'd been happy until now with just emptying it whenever it gets full). She implied that me and Debbie were dirty or had low standards for being able to tolerate the "smell" even though there was no smell at all and as far as we were concerned the issue had always been related to the fruit flies.

After a long discussion, which I guess got a little tense or passive aggressive in places, but there were no raised voices or anything like that, we agreed to disagree and we left it by saying that Jane could empty it each day if she wanted to but that the rest of us weren't going to empty it on our days unless it was full. I thought it was a bit annoying but ultimately not that deep as these sorts of spats are just part of living with other people. However it soon became apparent that Jane took it a lot more personally than either Debbie or I as she didn't speak to either of us for three days. When she eventually did speak, she asked if we could sit down to have a Talk and basically said that she felt like we had been overly harsh (even though all we had done is disagree with her) and that she wanted an apology. We had a civil discussion about it where we asked for her to tell us specifically what we had said or done that was harsh, she couldn't give us any examples, so then we explained that we weren't going to apologise as we didn't feel like we had done anything to apologise for but that we weren't annoyed at her or anything as sometimes in life people disagree about things and that's just normal. And also this whole thing is about a bin which is just ridiculous (though we didn't say that).

We felt like the discussion was civil and productive but afterwards Jane cried to our other flatmate, let's call him Harry (who isn't taking sides) and apparently is really upset that we didn't apologise. Now she's back to not speaking with us. We feel like this has been blown out of all proportion but can't tell if we're truly being unreasonable.

Am I (/are we) the asshole(s)?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[venomous-ragno]

Writing advice...

... About military things by a soldier :)

Disclaimer: My experiences and knowledge are mostly based on the German military, the Bundeswehr. They may differ from those of other countries.

Happy writing y'all :)

Pt. 6 / ?: Combat wounds (Pt.1)

Before we get into this, let me make one thing clear:

Most people imagine battle hardened soldiers to be terribly scarred, but that is most often not the case. If something gets close enough to scar you, it's close enough to kill you. In war it's either death or not; if it can kill you, it will. Having lots of scars could also just be an indicator that they're unskilled enough to let themself almost get killed one too many times, so think good and hard what scars your character has and how they came to be.

What are scars and how do they come to be?

Whenever your tissue gets damaged, your body tries to fix the loss by releasing this funky lil protein you may know from skin- or haircare: Collagen. It builds up where the tissue got damaged and helps heal and build up fresh new skin, hence why scars are lighter in colour. As collagen builds up for several months the blood supply to that new tissue increases, which is what causes scars to protrude.

But scars aren't just scars: They come in different types.

1. We have contracture scars for one, which are typically burn scars. They cause the skin to tighten and may possibly restrict movement, which can be quite frustrating if the scar is big in size. This comes from the underlying tissue healing by pulling together. Contracture scars can impact the muscles, joints and tendons.

2. Next up are atrophic scars. Fancy word that you may not know, but I bet you've heard of acne scars before. When the skin is unable to form new tissue, a little dent will appear, and that's an atrophic scar.

3. Flat scars are pretty boring. They're called flaz scars cause they flatten down over time, and go from a pinkish red colour to one that somewhat resembles your skin tone.

4. The nastiest ones in my opinion are keloid scars. These lil shits are basically clumps of tissue that grow near the wound, but can also expand past it. They're thick and look somewhat misshapen. Keloids are the result of excessive healing, which means they can pop up anywhere. Perhaps you've seen a friend w an infected piercing that didn't heal well, and they have these dark bumps around it. Yep, those are keloids.

5. Conversely to the atrophic scars we have hyperthropic scars. Sounds fancy, but when medicine names one thing with a- in the beggining, hyper- is usually the exact opposite. Whereas a- indicates too little, hyper- indicates too much of smth. In this case, hypertrophic scars are raised scars. They come to be when too much collagen builds up around a wound, which makes them similar to keloids, which but one decisive difference: Hypertrophic scars don't grow past the wound. Thank god.

6. My favourite scar of all are definitely stretch marks. I have 'em, you have 'em, they're absolutely normal. Stretch marks occur when the skin shrinks or grows too quickly for your body to catch up, thus causing tissues underneath the skin to become damaged.

Anything can happen in war - what are the most common combat injuries?

If I tried listing every possible injury I'd never finish this post, so I'm starting with the most common ones: Second and third degree burns, broken bones, shrapnel wounds, nerve damage, paralysis, loss of sight and / or hearing, PTSD and limb loss.

Sounds scary? Well, it is. But the best weapon against fear is information, which is why I'll break down the first four of those injuries in this post, and the rest in a second part.

Burns

What is a burn? A burn is an injury to the skin (or other organic tissue) caused by heat, radiation, radioactivity, electricity, friction or chemicals.

Burns are classified in four degrees, whereas one is the lightest and six the most serious type of burn.

First degree: Superficial burns, like a sunburn. Red, dry, and ouch but without blisters. Temporary change in skin colour but heals well.

Second degree: Red, swollen and blistered skin. May cause an increase in skin thickness but heals well.

Third degree: White and charred skin. Extensive skin damage. Will heal in (possibly) thick scars.

Fourth degree: Charred skin. Possibly exposing bone or organs. Probably causes permanent damage; may require an amputation.

Fifth degree: Charred skin. Will definitely expose bones etc. Definite permanent damage; amputation required.

Sixth degree: Loss of skin. Damage extends to the bones. Definite permanent damage that requires an amputation, but can lead to fatalities.

Broken bones

A broken bone, or fracture, happens when pressure is exerted unto a bone that it cannot withstand, because of which the bone can break partially or completely. A fracture has to be immobilised with a cast or surgically inserted metal rods / plates. The exact treatment method depends on what bone is fractured and how severe the fracture is.

Are broken bones fatal? Well, they certainly can have severe impacts on your health if not properly treated. Infections, permanent deformities or long-term joint problems are all feasible consequences to a botched treatment.

Luckily for us tho, bones are really good at healing. Doesn't mean a fracture ain't painful tho - the most painful bones to break are the femur, tailbone and the ribs.

If you wanna be mean but not fatally mean, I'd recommend giving your character a cracked rib or two. It's a serious injury that'll put 'em out of commission for a good two months, but they will most certainly recover; be careful of breaking them tho, as the jagged edges can puncture major blood vessels or internal organs, such as the lung. The two lower ribs rarely fracture as they are more flexible than the upper and middle ribs, which are anchored to the breastbone. If you break them however, they can cause serious damage to the spleen, liver or kidney.

Symptoms of a cracked / broken rib include strong pain in your chest area that worsens when breathing or bending the body, swelling and / or tenderness surrounding the ribs, eventual bruising on the skin, and quite literally hearing your ribs crack as they break.

Cracked / broken ribs cannot be as easily supported as other bones, so they're left to heal by themselves.

Shrapnel wounds

When the metal of an explosive pierces the skin, that's when it's called a shrapnel wound. The type of wound depends on whatever caused the injury; most often though they stem from so called IED's - Improvised Explosive Devices. In other words: Bombs, mines, bullets, or even shrapnel bombs and ammo, which are specifically made to cause as much damage to the human body as possible.

Some of these can contain uranium, which makes them poisonous to life forms.

Shrapnel is a nightmare to deal with. The pieces can travel within the body, making them harder to find and remove. You definitely wanna remove them cause they can be hot zones for infections; contrary to what you may have heard though, shrapnel is a relatively rare cause for lead poisoning. I'm gonna focus on gunshot wounds, but if you have any questions concerning other types of shrapnel wounds feel free to shoot me an ask!

Gunshot wounds

Gunshot wounds are caused when a bullet is shot into, or through, the body. They can cause serious injuries such as: Severe bleeding, damage to tissues and organs, broken bones, wound infections, and paralysis.

The exact damage depends on the location of the injury as well as speed and type of the bullet, though wounds to the head or torso are likey to cause more damage. Someone who's been shot has probably had surgery to do either of these:

Stop the bleeding

Clean the wound

Find and remove bullet pieces

Place drains / tubes for bodily fluids

Remove portions of organs (or even whole organs)

There may however be bullet pieces that remain in the body. Often these cannot be removed without causing more damage. Scar tissue will form around these remaining pieces, which may cause ongoing pain or other discomfort. In case of worsening pain, bleeding that won't stop even after applying pressure, increased drainage from the wound, rising body temperature (fever), or red streaks leading away from the wound, paying the doc a visit is a must. This means the wound isn't healing well and needs medical attention.

It will take months, perhaps even years, for a gunshot wound to heal properly - and that's if the victim is lucky enough that the bullet didn't shatter bone, or pass through arteries and nerves. Loss of limbs is also a very possible outcome. Skin-deep cuts and abrasions don't pose much of a problem in terms of healing. Following that would be muscle groups, which may heal in weeks. Tendons and bone can take months. Organ damage will take just as long, or they may be permanently damaged and never heal.

Remember that people heal differently. Especially when it comes to wounds so dependant on the exact caliber and loading of the gun; The size of a bullet and the energy it carries affect the size of the wound channel and cavity. Low powered rounds would not do as much damage as higher powered rounds (e.g. .22 LR vs .223 Rem), and smaller calibers will do less than larger calibers (eg. 9mm vs .45 ACP).

Combat knives

They weren't mentioned above, but seeing as this is supposed to be helpful to writers, oc creators and rp players, I decided to include knife wounds as well.

What is a combat knife?

It's a military issued knife that every soldier is required to carry on them at all times. It is designed with hand to hand combat in mind, thus functioning in a way that the blade can be flipped open and wielded with one hand. The blade is made to 'stand' on its own, aka two hands are needed to fold the blade back into the knife. These two criteria may put the military combat knife under assault weapons law in some countries (e.g. Germany). They are also designed to for utility use, e.g. cutting through shrubbery, thick ropes or opening ammunition crates. Now, I don't know what combat knives look like around the world, but our German one is embossed with the Bundesadler, the eagle that's our national emblem, and it's also a Swiss army knife - meaning that it has additional gadgets like a screwdriver built in.

What are knive wounds and how do they work?

The overall shape of the wound mimics that of the blade being used. Generally speaking, combat knives are meant to stab and slash, although stabbing has a greater possibility of internal organ damage. A well placed slash may sever an artery tho, so your character would do best not to let a knife get close at all.

Most often, a person doesn't die from the wound itself but from shock - not the emotional kind of shock, but the kind that your body goes into when it loses 20% of its blood in volume. In other words, the victim is more likely to die due to bleeding out rather than the wound itself.

That being said however: A stab and some blood loss won't be stopping someone powered by adrenaline and the need for survival. It's quite possible the brain simply drowns the wound out until the body collapses from cumulative blood loss. Every second counts in a real self defense situation. The assailant may be mortally wounded, but as long as they're able to do the same to you, you'll still die.

A trained fighter won't go or the head or neck, but the attacker's weapon wielding arm. Think of it like pulling the fangs out of a snake: By severing the tendons or the muscles that power them, the hand can no longer close and grip anything. A well placed slash can and will have more stopping power than a stab.

How and if a knife wound heals depends on the type of knife used, wether it stabbed or slashed and how deep, as well as the location of the wound. Much like gunshot wounds it can take years to fully recover, if the victim even recovers at all.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x you #call of duty könig #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty soap

[aarons-corner]

Shifting realities is so fun. Scripting whatever you want is so fun.

In my witchcraft DR, I’m a witch with an infinitely big house that actually flies on a fucking broomstick (it hurts so I don’t do it a lot bc cock) mixing herbs and crystals into a jar with candle wax on top and selling it but also has unlimited supplies bc anxiety makes me scared of running out of supplies, two black cats who live forever, having multiple overpowered abilities like omniscience and immortality, but no one can do anything about it. And I script in whoever I want so I see all my friends and favorite characters.

In one Karate kid DR, Bobby is my brother, I do MMA, I gave Dutch 95% of his tattoos (he said if he ever broke Bobby’s heart I could remove every single one of them in one day), Jimmy is my best friend, I beat up Daniel for being a little brat, Susan and Ali are together and are SO CUTE, Daniel needs to confess to Kumiko already, and Johnny colors in my tattoos sometimes. Scripting relationships happen naturally and letting people get together and not having control over it is so fun. Also scripting that things like racism and homophobia don’t exist so diversity is soooo much more common. Also scripting the world is healthy bc fuck global warming.

In my other Karate kid DR it’s the opposite. Daniel is my cousin and I have a list of things I’ve thrown at Dutch.

1. Apple 2. Scissors 3. Pencil and pen 4. Key 5. His student id 6. Cinnamon (please. Ask.) 7. Someone ELSE’S shoe (is tied to 7 PLEASE ASK) 8. A binder

Even though the cobras are lowkey bitches in that DR Jimmy has given me like four sweaters now??

Being a prince was kinda unwiped ass at first so I scripted some stuff to make it go smoothly.

About the things I’ve thrown at Dutch. I can explain 7 and 8. So basically I’m in a cooking class with that crazy mf and we were making cookies for fall. As I was shaping my cookie he went up to me and said my cookie looked like a registered sex offender. I had a small bowl of cinnamon I was using so I just grabbed a handful and tossed it at his face. He tried to attack me so obvs I ran, like I’m not stupid. I ended up giving someone a flat tire somehow?? Dutch was gaining on me so I just threw the shoe at him. We both got detention.

Should I share my shifting stories and more DRs I have??? Cause this post was really fun to make.

#shifting #shifting realities #shift #shifter #shifters #desired reality #shifting stories

[choke-me-joey]

Hi! In regards to Hoevember can you do number 50 with Joe? Thank you love.

Thank YOU for requesting bby ❤️

Also massive thanks to @harrys-four-nipples for helping me out with this one, ily 🥰

50. Are you sure? If we do this, I won't be able to control myself.

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, rpf (don't like don't read), friends to lovers, angst, reader gets a teeny bit jealous and insecure, lil bit of fluff, Joe is soft until he's really not, no prep (but its cool, reader is SUPER wet), unprotected p in v, creampie because what else would I write

Hoe-vember/Dick-cember masterlist

It was no secret that you and your best friend Joe fancied each other. Every bloody one of your friends knew it, he knew it and you knew it. So why the hell weren’t you together?!

Well, that was totally your bad. When Joe had started landing bigger jobs, you had decided to try and save yourself the eventual heartbreak he was bound to cause you and you tried to move on to other guys with nice normal jobs who weren’t going to shatter your soul by falling in love with a stunning a size 4 actress who was working opposite him.

And it worked. For a bit.

Until the nice normal guys were not nice guys at all, but just the typical London arseholes who were only in it for a quick fuck and chuck, completely not what you wanted. And eventually when yet another boring banker or data analyst was crawling on top of you, Joe’s face invaded your thoughts and it would be the only reason you’d eventually get off, by fantasising about your long-term crush and best friend. In fact, you had even called out his name mid-fuck once. Luckily the guy you were shagging at that time was also called Joe so, no harm, no foul.

So to save yourself even further, you’d stopped dating. Completely. No one. Nothing. And at first, it was fine. But by the 3 month mark of self-inflicted celibacy, you were starting to go a little crazy. 

Which leads you to now, sitting alone in your flat on a Friday night, watching some David Attenborough narrated documentary on the TV with a G&T. Wild. All of your friends were either with their partners, tied down with work or just wanting time at home themselves tonight. The only person you hadn’t contacted was Joe. But he was probably out with Wesley, or at some fancy event or something. You missed him.

Shooting back the rest of your G&T, you pick up your phone and start mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, Facebook and Twitter, a 3-app rotation that kept you occupied for all of 10 minutes. Then a WhatsApp message pings through.

‘Hey, wyd? X’

It’s Joe. Your heart flutters at the sight of his name. 

‘Hey, famous actor man. Nm, wanna come over? X’

‘Already outside. Got Chinese x’

You stand up and open up your balcony windows, stepping outside and glancing down to the main door of your building. Sure enough, Joe is stood there, looking back up at you with a plastic bag full of food in his hands. He grins, raising the bag up at you.

He looks so fucking good it should be illegal.

“Hold on,” you return his grin, rushing back inside and buzzing the door open for him. You quickly check over your appearance and make sure you don’t stink like a bin, before opening your front door.

**

About an hour later, bellies full of too much Chinese food and a few beers, you and Joe are sprawled out on your bed. Well, to be more precise he is sprawled out like he bloody owns the place, you’re sat with your back against the headboard picking at the label on your beer bottle.

"Sign of sexual frustration, that." Joe pipes up, smirking at you. You can't fucking look at him right now; you know how he looks when he smirks. You'll want to pounce on him. Your pussy throbs.

"Well, if you hadn't had decent sex for months, you'd be frustrated too." You grumble back, squeezing your thighs together subtly.

"Months? Thought you were seeing that one bloke from your office?"

"Yeah, months ago, Joe. Plus he was so fucking boring. And shit in bed. Had to get myself off when he left." To some videos of you, btw.

"Ah." Joe nods and takes a sip of his beer. "Shame."

"Please don't gloat, Joe, I get it, you're a super hot actor now and the women are throwing themselves at you." You roll your eyes as you speak. Joe barks out a laugh.

"I meant, it's a shame you had to get yourself off after he left, he missed out. Bet that was hot as fuck." He says casually, his dark eyes watching you from his side of the bed. You shove him with your foot. "And you know I haven't been shagging anyone, Y/N."

"Do I? Not even your little red headed friend you were papped with?" You raise an eyebrow at him. Now it's his turn to roll his eyes.

"Jealous?"

"Curious." You lie. Of course you were jealous. She was fucking gorgeous and you knew Joe; the minute those videos surfaced you knew he was flirting with her. But also you knew nothing had happened. Wesley had reassured you. Wesley knew everything. You just needed to hear Joe say it.

"Nothing happened with her. I haven't fucked anyone in months, Y/N. I'm just not interested." Joe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know there's only one person I want."

"Joe..." You sigh, your head flopping back against the headboard. "Don't, please. I've told you, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you met someone else, especially some of the women you work with-"

"Fuck, Y/N, what kind of person do you think I am?" Joe sits up, inching closer to you. "I would never, ever-"

"You might though. If we had to spend months apart-"

"Which we have-"

"-you get unbearably horny-"

"-that's what I have a hand for-"

"For fucks sake, Joe, I bloody love you and want you to fuck the shit out of me right now and tell me that you love me too!" You snap, the admission even taking you by surprise. Joe blinks at you. There's a brief, tense pause before he lunges at you, grabbing your head and smashing his mouth to yours. You freeze, brain desperately tying to catch up. Joe feels your hesitation and tries to pull away, but you grab his head and bring him back to you, this time kissing him back properly.

It's closed mouths at first, but you decide to be bold and flick your tongue against his lip. He groans and accepts, opening his mouth and allowing you to taste him for the first time. You thread your fingers into Joe's curls as you kiss, deep and slow, the kind of kisses that make you weak in the knees and dizzy in your brain. Your body shifts against his, making you both moan softly. Joe moves so that you're lying down, him on top of you, and then he suddenly pulls away again, making you whine at the loss of his mouth against yours.

"Are you sure? If we do this, I won't be able to control myself." He says, his voice taking a deeper tone. You nod, and he smiles. "I bloody love you too."

"I know. Can you fuck me now please?"

"Or what, you'll do it yourself?" Joe teases and you laugh. "You'll have to show me that sometime."

"Save that for when you're travelling, Quinn." You reply, grabbing the front of his shirt. He looks down at your hands, an eyebrow raised, before looking back at you. He smirks, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand.

"Can you keep your hands there for me like a good girl?"

You nod, swallowing, the throb in your underwear almost becoming unbearable. It had been forever, or what felt like forever, since you had been turned on like this. And it's Joe. Fucking Joe who you've been lusting after for fuck knows how long.

He sits you up, still making sure you keep your hands above your head. He tugs at the bottom of your tshirt, looking at you for permission. Again, you nod and he peels off your tshirt, swearing sharply as your tits are exposed, nipples pebbled in arousal. You were pretty glad you'd decided to forgo a bra tonight. Comfort over fashion or whatever it was.

"Fucking hell, Y/N, your boobs are incredible." Joe groans, pushing you down onto your back again and admiring you for a moment. He then strips off his own shirt, taking his place back on top of you, and you whimper at the feel of his bare chest against yours. Joe teases you,skating his fingers along your bare side. His eyes darken, watching your expression as he gently pinches your nipple.

"Fuck, Joe, please!" You whine, bucking your hips into his. The crotch of your leggings brushes over his evident arousal in his jeans and you shiver at the slightest hint of friction there. Joe chuckles.

"Worked up like this already? You really are desperate for a good fucking, aren't you? You're not the only one, baby. I can't wait anymore, need to be inside you."

You're amazed at how he undressed both you and himself whilst still pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. Clearly he has done this before. You swallow down that pang of jealousy; he's with you now, nobody else.

"Hey, you okay?" Joe sees your expression falter as you get lost in your thoughts. His own expression softens as he looks at you with concern. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to-"

"I want to. Fuck me, Joe, and don't be gentle about it. I don't want to be able to walk after." You say with determination, fingers ghosting over his that held you. Joe groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

"You keep saying stuff like that and I won't last long, been thinking about this for way too long." He lets go of your wrists and brings that hand to the side of your head supporting himself as his other hand guides his cock to your pussy. He taps your clit a few times with his cockhead, chuckling at the way your body arches and you squirm with desperation. After he's swiped his cock through your arousal, he pushes in all the way to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you.

He's massive. Well, bigger than what you're used to, thick and long and he bumps your womb when he slides in all the way. The burn is delicious; you can't remember the last time you felt this full, if ever.

"Fuck, Joe," you pant, your walls fluttering around him as you stretch to accommodate him.

"Christ, you're fucking tight. You okay?" Joe grits out, his jaw clenched at how fucking good you feel around him. You nod, and he leans down to kiss you, starting to move slowly.

"No, no, no, no-" you whimper against his mouth. "More, Joe, harder, please, I can take it. Fuck. Me."

Joe finally seems to get the message, and flips you over onto the mattress, face down and ass up. Once again, he grabs your wrists in his hand but this time holds them behind your back. He slams his cock into you, using his grip on your wrists as leverage.

"I was trying to be fucking romantic, love, but you're too desperate for my cock, hm?" Joe grunts, his fast and deep thrusts making you moan into the duvet.

"Fuck yes, Joe, please, I want it!" You moan, every nudge of his cock against your cervix sending a blooming mix of pain and pleasure throughout your core.

Nobody had fucked you this good before. All the guys you'd tried hooking up with to take your mind off of the man who was currently rearranging your guts had crawled on top of you for 10, maybe 15 minutes at a push, encouraged you to touch your clit and left it at that. As long as they shot their load, it was a win for them.

But Joe, Joe was different. So very fucking different. From how he was talking to you, to how he was touching you. He hands leave your wrists and travel to your hair, pulling it into a ponytail and pulling your head back with it.

You let out a sharp moan.

"That's right, baby, let me fucking hear those pretty moans. Does my cock feel good? Cos your pussy feels like fucking heaven, babe, can't believe we waited so long to do this, fuck, i love you so fucking much."

"I love you," you gasp, and Joe pulls you up so your back is against his chest, fucking up into you as one of his hands cups your boob, and the other snakes down to your clit. You turn your head and kiss him, moaning into his mouth as he rolls the pad of his finger over your clit, again and again and again until you break the kiss to cry out his name as you come, long and hard, your pussy holding his cock in a fucking vice grip as a fresh wave of arousal washes over you both.

"Can I come in you?" Joe pants against your mouth, you nod reaching a hand behind his head and keeping it there, tangled in his damp curls as he thrusts a couple more times into you before releasing, cum splashing up against your womb and walls. Joe moans your name out as he comes, his legs shaking with the force of his orgasm. You kiss his face as he rides it out, and eventually his head drops to your shoulder, peppering the skin there with sloppy kisses.

His cock stays in you until it softens, neither one of you wanting to break the connection yet. He hisses with the sensitivity as he slips out of you, and you quickly excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to clean up, albeit on extremely wobbly legs. When you come back, Joe is passed out in your bed, still bollock naked but under the covers, snoring softly. You join him, laying on your side and stroking a hand over his cheek gently. He cracks an eye open and smiles at you, opening his arm for you to snuggle up into him. He places a kiss on your forehead.

"My hand is going to have a hard time comparing to that, just so you know."

#joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut #joe quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #kats hoevember event #kats dickcember event #joseph quinn x y/n

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 4 - Devious

The Most Devious:

Frankie the Smelting Works Diesel crept across the bridge, her eyes darting about as if prepared for an engine to leap out of hiding and grab her. Were she to be caught, it would be a danger to her life. She slunk into the Vicarstown Yard, siddling up alongside a line of loaded trucks. At the head of them, four trucks of scrap sat quietly, dozing in the night air.

With a bump, Frankie coupled to the four trucks and dragged them away from the others, sliding them into a shed before returning to the train. Once her driver had loosened the brakes, she ran into them. Hard. They rolled back, slamming into each other and the buffers. A flatbed jumped the rails, bringing a number of trucks after it. Frankie’s driver reapplied the brakes, and the diesel slid away with her prize. She’d wait out the day on the island, grab some fuel, and slink home. No one would ever suspect her.

***

Henry and Diesel stared in shock at the derailed trucks. “I shunted those last night!” spluttered Diesel. “What happened?!” Henry shot the diesel a look. “Clearly, you were being careless,” huffed Henry. “Though, it’s not like you.” “It’s not,” Diesel said gravely. “The train was fully prepared and on the rails, when I left last night. Someone did this on purpose.” Diesel’s eyes scanned over the trucks again; something wasn’t right.

Henry huffed. “If they did, who?” Diesel hummed, gazing about the yard. His eyes fell upon the old, overgrown line that curved around from near the end of the shunting yard. “Henry,” Diesel started, “where does that line go?” “Oh that?” Henry looked surprised. “That’s the line to the old Vicarstown sheds. We used to all sleep here, way back when I was young. When we moved to Tidmouth, they just abandoned it – though the shed should be there…”

Diesel stared at it for a little longer.

“The weeds have been trampled,” he said suddenly. Henry raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?” he asked. “Take a look! Those weeds on either side of the line have grown right up – but the ones near the rails have been cut and bent recently. Would you… perhaps slide a pair of flatbeds over the points in front of that line? I’m going to go investigate something.”

Henry rolled his eyes, but agreed. Diesel started off, rumbling over the old points and onto the rusty line. It was bumpy, and the rails creaked and groaned under his weight. They curved around the edge of the town, to a large flat stretch of yard. An overgrown refuelling facility stood centrally in the yard, with a number of tracks running parallel for a while before all joining into one. The most interesting structure was a large brick shed. Part of the roof had caved in – but it was mostly intact. And on the line beside Diesel, a rather startled Frankie sat with the stolen scrap trucks.

“So you did hide down here,” Diesel said simply. “How- what- how did you find me?!” “You stole those trucks to take to the mainland, right?” asked Diesel. “Part of some scheme to sell scrap metal to the highest bidder by stealing it. A devious little ploy, I must admit.” “And? What’s it to you?” sneered Frankie. “You derailed the train I put together,” Diesel replied. “You tried to outwit me. I’m the Devious Diesel they wrote books about – no one is better at this then I am.” He lurched forwards; Frankie’s engine roared to life and she thundered back down the old line…

Right into the flatbeds.

Diesel followed at a more leisurely pace, coming to a halt behind Frankie right as the Fat Controller arrived.

“Amateur,” muttered Diesel with a smirk. No one was more devious than him. Not now, not ever.

Back to Master Post

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #ttte diesel #ttte frankie #truly devious #traintober 2023 #traintober #slight train crash

[dynoguard]

History's Lance - A Side Story

My name is Ronax Tallplume. I am an archivist, class 4, Civilian Logistics, Agriculture and Welfare.

I don't know where I am.

That's not entirely true. I am in my house, or what's left of it, but my house is not all here. Nor is what's here where it should be.

I remember emergency sirens, and an alert broadcast. Someone from one of the Science Towers talking about an emergency procedure. I just remember looking up and seeing a ball of fire in the sky.

Then screaming and then-

The fireball looked at me. No, that's not right.

Then it was very cold, and very quiet.

Then I was here.

The rear half of my home is still entirely intact, as is a section of the yard outside and some of the sidewalk. My kitchen is where the home ends abruptly, cut cleanly through as though by a laser. There's no sign of burns or scorches, but along this line on the ground is a thin ring of irregular cyan-colored crystal growths.

This line forms a circle about 20 meters across centered on the house's capacitor box. Everything within the circle is just as it was before the siren went off.

Everything outside the circle is utterly wrong.

I do not recognize the plant life. There are trees and shrubs, but their leaves are strangely shaped. In place of the carpet ferns are simple leaves that poke up through dry, patchy soil. The air is also dry, and chilly, and it smells wrong.

It's night. I must have been knocked out for half a day at least. And there's no lights anywhere, much less the entire city of Tailspire.

Where the spike am I?

-

I spent most of the night taking stock of my situation. The recorder is charged for the foreseeable. I have some food from the half of the kitchen that's here, but water will be a problem.

I took the hangar pole from my bedroom closet. I don't have any weapons, so a tail's length hollow steel rod will have to do.

I've set out to find water. I've started hiking downhill. West by the sun's position.

-

I found a stream after six hexands or so. I've marked the trail with some rocks, and am following the stream. I've spotted more signs of life. Some of the insects seem familiar, but they are a fraction of the size. I've spotted a variety of unfamiliar birds, none of whom seem to have teeth.

No flappers though.

I also saw something else. Some kind of giant vole, I think. It had four legs, was covered in short, flat fuzz, and had curling horns coming from the sides of its head. Instead of scuttling on the ground it stood with its legs directly under it, legs that each ended in a pair of black claws. It barely had a tail to speak of. It'd say it was five, six claws long, muzzle to haunches.

It gave a low, staccato honk and ran into the foliage when I tried to get close.

Is this Primore at all? Did I get thrown to some other planet, or skipped into another universe like on Worldshifters? Something about the crystal ring seems familiar.

There we go... the stream led right to a small lake and...

A village! Little stone and wood houses in the distance. Dromeons by the size of the houses! Thank Zarr!

-

They weren't dromeons.

They were tailless, flat-faced things that smelled like cittervoles, about half my size. They wore clothing, they had tools, but they're completely alien. I tried to approach slowly to not spook them, but they ran as soon as I spoke.

I'd hoped that my F.I.S.H. would be able to pick up on their language, but the charge is drained and it doesn't use the same cells as the recorder.

I waited a bit to see if any would come out to try and communicate, but after three came out holding what appeared to be large knives or small swords, I decided to attempt again later.

-

I returned to the pond to try and speak with the creatures again. When I arrived, one of their number came forward with two animals like the four-legged vole-thing I saw on the path. It led them with plant-fiber ropes looped around their necks.

Livestock, I assume.

The creature left the two livestock animals tied to a post next to the pond, a new addition since the last time I arrived, and ran back to one of the houses when I tried to approach.

I'm twice their size, and I can see now that they don't have claws or fangs, or any natural armaments at all that I could see. I must be terrifying to them. The animals are a gift to appease me, it seems. Maybe the pole scared them. I'll leave it behind next time.

I have food enough for now. But that won't last long. If I'm not rescued, I may have to take them up on that.

-

It has been a thirdmoon. I have taken the creatures' livestock offerings twice, on days were I was not able to trap wild game. The four-limbed voles are gamey but filling when you cook them right. They come in a variety of sizes and shapes. I've been leery to try the plant life since I have no idea what is poisonous.

I've been thinking about Meg a lot. Partially because I miss her, but mostly because she was always talking about StarNest. She loved everything about space travel, especially the science. She'd go on and on about all of it. Especially the stasis thing. Time slip.

"Did you know they use time slip fields to make more chronite?"

I remember her saying those exact words.

"When the field collapses, everything in the space gets shoved out. Anything that doesn't undergoes the Bronzehorne process and forms chronite crystals."

I remember it so clearly. Maybe because she said it. Maybe because of the ring. The dirt just beyond the ring bulges. It's harder than the surrounding earth. Like it was packed together.

I've been in the time slip. I have no idea how long. If Meg was here she'd know. She was good with science and stars and things.

I didn't notice before, but the stars are different. Even I know that takes a long time. Long enough for voles to learn to make swords. How long is that?

They told us in school we weren't the first people on Primore. They told us we probably wouldn't be the last. That was a comforting thought then.

I watched a vidplay once about a big-brain flapper that got frozen in ice and woke up in the modern world. Awful effects, dumb script, lot of plop-jokes.

He must have been so lonely.

-

The spiking voles attacked me.

They had one of their own tied to the pole when I went down to get water. It was wrapped up in white clothing and was screaming and wailing. I cut the ropes with my claws and tried to tell it calmly I wouldn't hurt it.

I heard weird, hard running steps behind me and before I turned around one of the little monsters had a spear in me. It was on one of their labor animals, both of them armored up like for war. I knocked them both down with my tail and ran.

I'm back at the house. I'm trying to bind the wound but it won't stop. I want to go home. I want the warm air. I want Meg.

Meg. Meg, where are you?

It's getting dark.

-

I don't want to hurt you! Listen, please!

I'm just lost. I'm like you, I talk, I can feel. Please!

Stop! I'm not a monster!

My arm, you broke my arm! Why are you doing this? You horrible naked little voles! Overgrown garden pests! ANIMALS!

I never did anything to you and you stabbed me and burned my home!

Get back! I have teeth! I'll bite! That's what you understand isn't it? Hurting and biting and killing!?

Come at me then! You're so brave with your rocks and knives when I'm bleeding and tied up! You wanted to feed me one of you, so c'mon!

Do it. Do it you cowards!

Meg. Meg. I'll see you soon Me-

--

The last testimony of Ronax Tallplume, previously known as the Singing Stone of Silene, recently translated by and repatriated to representatives of the Granite Mountain Dinosovian enclave.

#short fiction #dynoguard #questionably canon #tragedy #dinosaurs #dino scalie #time travel #dragon slaying #saint george #ai assisted artwork