#cw: feeling invalidated

[coulsonlives]

"It's just a headache"

The funniest part about all this? My migraines don't even cause a headache

[johnono]

there's this really new social media, and. it has anti-rqs on it before any open rqs. do they have nothing better to do with their lives??

[4ngel-f4ngzz]

is he just a man.

no

he’s a good man he loves me he respects women

im just taking it to heart

but fuck. maybe he is just a man at heart. what the fuck

[tbalderdash-art-blog]

Had a photo of a ewe doing this with her lamb and it was too cute (and during my little phase of doing comfort drawings for the mental health).

[Do not make romantic or sexual comments. Do not invalidate my aspec identity.]

[ntls-24722]

fritz is simply anti-comet

[nashdoesstuff]

blasting callout posts out of existence

[thegaissilent]

.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I don't know if it's my brain subconsciously going 'We're so fucking tired of your current obsession/coping mechanism, can we PLEASE MOVE ON ALREADY!?', but sometimes while I'm enjoying listening to/reading about/'researching' my current obsession/coping mechanism (usually a band, like right now - for the past year and a half), I'll have a moment every once and a while where I think about it, 'This is so fucking stupid, and it's so stupid that it makes you happy. You don't even talk to or engage with anyone about this so WHO FUCKING CARES?!' and I get really, really depressed for that moment. Even though I try to think critically about those thoughts to stop them from making me depressed, they usually do manage to make me hate my obsession or be ashamed of it for at least a day. And those are always rather dark days for me, because usually it's whatever I'm obsessed with that gives me at least an hour or two every day where I'm EXCITED to be alive to engage with it, and if I don't have that, then I'm not excited about anything, and therefore I don't think that day is worthwhile enough to exist through. So I don't know what to do about those thoughts beyond thinking critically about them [to stop them from dissuading me from my obsession], because even when I do, they still usually manage to 'win' for at least a little while.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

need fluff rn tbh :/

[scribbyizhere]

im going. to vent in tags. fyi

[my-castles-crumbling]

pants - jegulus - trans!regulus - cw: period blood, dysphoria - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 606

He didn’t realize it’d happened at first. Not until, still half-asleep, he blearily looked down at his pants while sitting on the toilet.

Blood.

And suddenly, his body was cold, his heart racing.

It happened so rarely. A side-effect of the T, his period had nearly disappeared. But when it did show up? It was awful. It wasn’t just the physical side-effects and the annoyance of dealing with the whole bleeding-from-his-crotch thing. It was the mental parts. The self-hatred and disgust that rolled over him in waves, making him want to throw up and sob whenever it happened. How invalid and disgusting and wrong it made him feel.

And that was during a normal occurrence. Now, this was nothing less than a worst-case scenario. Because he’d been sleeping in his boyfriend’s bed. 

Choking back tears, Regulus finished doing his business and thanked Merlin he’d thought to bring his wand with him. Shakily, he waved it, cleaning his underwear and sleep pants as best he could, though a stain remained. 

Then, he stuck his head out the door.

“James,” he whispered, knowing that Sirius and Remus cast a Muffling Charm around the bed they habitually shared and Peter slept like the dead. “J-James?” Fuck, he hated this. Hated himself. Why was he like this? “James?”

A little grunt told him the Gryffindor had awoken. “Reg?”

“Can–can you c’mere please?” he murmured, pressing his hand over his mouth as tears began to flow.

The older boy must have sensed his tone, because he was by the door in half a second. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, looking like he’d been awake for hours. “What is it? A nightmare? Do you need me to get Sirius?”

Gods, Regulus could’ve lived a thousand lives and never deserved this boy. “I–” he broke, collapsing on the tiled floor and letting out a sob.

Somehow, James was there in the next moment, pulling him in his arms, mumbling soothing words, rocking him slowly. “It’s alright, love. I’m here. What is it, Reg?” he asked, a hand along his lower back, which did ache, now that he thought about it.

“I’m b-bleeding,” Regulus managed dully, still crying, face in James’s old night shirt.

“Bleed—? Oh,” the Gryffindor said, realizing in the middle of his question. “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he whisper-shrieked. “I’ve–it’s disgusting! And it’s probably in your sheets, fuck, that’s horrible,” he tried to turn away, nauseated at himself.

“Reg. Baby,” James said calmly, maneuvering him so they were facing each other on the cold tile. “Sheets can be cleaned. Or replaced. All I care about is how you’re feeling right now. What can I do to help, love? D’you need a pad? Tampon? I have some in the other room. I can take you to the Prefects’ bath to relax, or we can skip class for a little rest? How can I help?”

So shocked he forgot to cry, Regulus gaped. “You have pads?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“I…asked Dorcas for some. I know she knows, so I figured she’d help me. Just in case,” James shrugged. 

Overcome with emotion at the idea of his seventeen-year-old boyfriend going up to a girl he only casually knew and asking her for menstrual products, Regulus swallowed, his tears easing. Did James really care that much? “I…I’ll take a pad,” he said, his voice tiny.

“Of course. I’ll be right back, and then I’ll change the sheets and steal some chocolate from Moony’s private stash. You need food and cuddles, yeah?” James said matter-of-factly, standing and offering a hand.

There were no words for how much Regulus loved him in that moment.

[s6daz]

♰ sevika x f!reader ִ⊹ ࣪ ˖

cw: reconciliation, sevika opening up a little to you, sfw/fluff, sevika letting herself be loved, a lot of love and lesbians being happy, prostitute!reader

note: i had another writing about this, but I decided to make it less sad because lesbians deserve to be happy... still if you want me to publish the other ending (angst) let me know!, by the way this is not corrected...

status: fixed

part one here!

days passed since sevika did not appear again, but her presence left a void that seemed to fill every corner of your life. the lights of the brothel, the constant murmuring, the horrible smell of cigarettes: everything was still there, but you were still trapped in a darkness that did not want to disappear.

one night, while you were waiting for your next client and the wind was blowing through the poorly closed windows with a soft rain that marked a constant rhythm on the glass, the resounding footsteps that you knew well began to sound and nervously you turned towards the door, you could see sevika enters, soaked, with her hair stuck to her face and her eyes lit up looking for something you couldn't guess.

sevika quickly closed the door, she looked at you with slight anguish, silence filled the room and you could see that she was trying to find the right words to break the tension.

"i shouldn't have left like that" she finally spoke in a low voice, as if the whole world could break if she raised her voice "and i shouldn't have said what i said either"

disbelief paralyzed you, but not in the way you expected. you felt upset and frustrated, her sudden appearance after days of being without any sign of her only made you feel smaller and weaker, you didn't know whether to yell at her or collapse in front of her.

"why are you doing this sevika? you go, you come back and you leave me with more questions than answers. if this didn't mean anything to you, why come back?"

"because i'm a mess" she admitted, trying not to look you in the eye with her voice full of honesty that she rarely showed. "because i have never felt this and you are the only thing that matters to me but... also the only thing that scares me"

her words hung in the air like a truth too heavy to go away. sevika’s honesty was like an open wound and although it hurt, it was also what you had been searching for.

"so... don't run away, don't make it more complicated. i'm not asking you to be perfect, sevika. i'm not either... i just want to be something else in your life, something more than a sex worker" you said taking a step towards her.

she looked up at you and for the first time you saw something different in her eyes: vulnerability. it was like she was torn between her instinct to escape or her desire to stay.

"i don't know how to do this" she whispered softly, "i'm afraid i'm not what you're looking for," she admitted so quickly that maybe in another situation you would have been surprised, but here you could only feel happy that he was saying what she thinks and feels, even if it's a little.

you took a deep breath, allowing her words to hang in the air for a few seconds before answering. you didn't want to rush, you didn't want to invalidate her vulnerability with an impulsive response.

“sevika…” you whispered, searching her eyes. “you don’t have to be someone else with me. all i want is you, just the way you are.”

for a moment, sevika looked at you doubtfully as if trying to decide whether she was capable of taking the step she so feared. and then, as if something inside her gave way, she took your hand.

"i don't promise to be easy" her murmured, her voice low and hoarse.

"i don't need you to be" you replied, holding his hand tenderly, bringing it to the corner of your lips and leaving a soft kiss. "i just need you to stay with me..."

and for the first time, sevika was able to get a weight off her shoulders, always tense as if they carried the weight of the world, seemed to relax as she released a sigh that seemed to contain years of silences and burdens. without saying another word she sat down with you on the bed, letting himself fall gently.

with a shy gesture, but full of intention, her took your face in her hands, caressing your cheeks with her thumbs while she looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and devotion. her lips sought yours, meeting them in a slow kiss, full of contained emotion.

you got closer, regardless of the trail of rain that left her wet clothes, your fingers slid down his arm until they rested on her chest, feeling the beating of her heart, strong and sincere. sevika responded by wrapping her arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her, as if in that hug she found the peace she had sought for so long.

the kisses and caresses became warmer, not out of urgency, but out of a mutual desire to comfort each other and feel close. there were no words, but they were not necessary either. at that moment, they both knew that the void in their hearts was beginning to be filled and that was enough.

[munsonsmixtapes]

You Were Never Mine

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

After finding out that your boyfriend has been cheating on you with Eddie, you invite Eddie to breakfast to talk things over which leads to more.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut ( p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex, mention of cheating, mention of emotional abuse

The only sounds in the diner that can be heard is the clinking of plates as well as the chatter amongst the other customers. You lift your head from your pancakes to look at the man sitting across from you. Neither of you have touched your food, too much tension in the air between you to do so. You want to say something, to ask him why he did it, but you can’t get yourself to speak. 

Eddie already feels like a piece of shit, but he feels even more like one when he looks into your eyes. He can tell that you’ve been crying and that knot in his stomach gets even bigger. The pain almost rivals the black eye you gave him, but he thinks he deserves it which is why he wouldn’t let you help him when you realized what you had done. 

He should hate you considering the circumstances, but he just can’t. You’re so fucking nice and he can’t stand it. You asked him out for breakfast after finding out that he had been sleeping with your boyfriend and maybe he’s mad because he knew he wouldn’t do the same. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to it in the first place.

Maybe it’s just because he wants closure. To talk it out then move on with his life. He also wants to apologize to you. He doesn’t know what good it would do but he feels like it’s the right thing to do. He wants to assure you that he really didn’t know about you. He just thought he was hooking up with a guy who bought weed from him every once in a while.

“I hate him,” is all you say and the words are filled with so much bitterness, so much pain that it feels palpable. Eddie doesn’t know what to respond or if he even should. You have every right to hate Henry and he’d never tell you that your feelings are invalid. Especially right now. 

“Me too,” Eddie responds. And Eddie does hate Henry. Mostly for what he did to you. That’s all Eddie’s cared about since the two of you found out the truth last night. He didn’t think anything of Henry wanting to keep the whole thing a secret because he’s used to that. Nobody wants people to know that they’re hooking up with Eddie “the freak” Munson. Nobody’s ever been hurt by that besides him, so seeing your tear stained cheeks is hard for him to take in. 

He can’t imagine how you feel. Years gone just because of a stupid mistake that wasn’t even yours. And you’re here blaming yourself for Henry’s actions. Last night after he kicked Henry out, he invited you to stay for a drink and you accepted. After a few beers, you loosened up a bit, going on and on about how you should have seen it coming, should have loved him more, put in more effort. 

The whole thing made Eddie sick. You got cheated on and you’re the one who feels guilty? How fucked up is that? He tried to tell you that it wasn’t your fault but you wouldn’t listen. And why would you believe him? You don’t know him and quite frankly, you don’t want to. 

Or maybe you do. You don’t even really know why you invited him to breakfast. Maybe it’s because you feel bad that he got dragged into this whole mess because Henry can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You’re what?” He asks, actually offended by your apology. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeat the words with more confidence because you are sorry. You know about his reputation around town but you seem to be the only person who’s gotten close enough to know it’s not true. He’s sweet and kind and you wish more people could see that. That’s he’s not the scary guy everyone thinks he is.

“Why are you sorry? You walked in on your boyfriend and I having sex and you’re sorry?”

“I just feel bad that he did this to you.” You have a pained look on your face and this time, it’s for him. He doesn’t know why, but that almost makes him want to cry. No one besides his uncle has ever cared for him like this so he’s not entirely sure how to feel. 

“Why should I care? We were just using each other for our bodies, but he was your boyfriend. So really, I should be apologizing to you. Which, I am sorry.” Eddie would never admit how hurt he truly is. That would require being vulnerable and he refuses to do that. He just can’t get himself to open up about his true feelings and he’s especially not going to do that now.

“You didn’t know.” You’re saying the words as if you’re defending him and Eddie’s getting really tired of you being so nice. If you were any other woman, you would have treated him like shit, called him all the names in the book. But you didn’t. You haven’t. 

“I’m still sorry. I feel awful, especially since you found out…that way.” He can still hear your screams, the look of horror on your face as tears pour down your cheeks. That image will haunt his dreams forever, he’s sure of it. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. Your shoulders slump as you sit there, hands underneath your thighs and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so pathetic. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Especially not you. You’re so sweet and nice and he can’t see why anyone would want to hurt you. It’d be like hurting a puppy. 

“It’s not okay,” Eddie says, anger rising in his chest. He’s not even angry at you, he’s angry for you. Because you don’t seem to be mad enough for his liking. He wanted to see you yell at Henry, to hit him, to take out all your anger on him like people usually do when they catch their partner in that kind of situation. He just hates that your bottling it all up. It’s only a matter of time before you explode. 

“That asshole hurt you. But I guess that just shows how much better you are than me because I would have beat his ass. I should’ve. I can’t believe he tried to blame you, y/n. This isn’t your fault. At all. He knows he fucked up but he doesn’t want to accept the blame.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” You ask, raising your voice and it catches Eddie completely off guard. “He did it constantly and I let him because I thought that was the kind of love I deserved. I know now that I deserve better.” You say the last part more quietly, your gaze lowering to the table. And just when Eddie thought his heart couldn’t break any more. 

Silence settles between the two of you and Eddie pays the check despite your argument and when you both end up in the parking lot, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to pull you in his arms and never let go. He wants to protect you, to make sure that you never get hurt again. He’s not sure he could handle it if you did.

He doesn’t know why, but he invites you to sit in his van. Maybe it’s because that’s where he feels the most comfort so he’s hoping you’ll feel that way too. You seem surprised when he opens the passenger door for you and that tells him everything he needs to know about Henry. If he didn’t open doors for you then what other stuff did he not do for you that you clearly deserved? Bring you flowers? Now he kind of wants to buy you some just to see your pretty smile. 

The van is quiet besides the metal music that’s playing at a low volume on the radio as the two of you sit in silence, neither of you sure what you should say. You don’t know why he invited you to sit with him but you’re grateful when rain begins to pour down, hitting the vehicle rather loudly. Eddie would never tell you that’s actually grateful so he has an excuse for you to stay.

He hates that he’s now thinking about how well he’d treat you. How he’d never even think about cheating on you if you gave him a chance. He doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it because he knows you wouldn’t. No one ever does. He’s just someone that they want to see between the sheets then turn right around and whisper the meanest things behind his back. 

Eddie knows that you would never be so cruel, but he still can’t get himself to make a move no matter how pretty you look sitting in his passenger seat. You just broke up with your boyfriend anyway and he can still see the bandage over your heart so maybe getting close to you in that way isn’t the best idea. 

So why are you scooting closer? Why is your thigh pressing against his as you lean your head on his shoulder? His arms hesitantly wrap around you which gives you room to fully lean into him and without thinking too much about, his hand reaches up to scratch the back of your head gently. It’s something he loves being done to him so he’s hoping that it brings you the same comfort. 

You stay like that for a minute and when you lean back up, his face is so close to yours. You watch his eyes widen as he gulps, his lips parting. His ips that you now so desperately want to kiss. He seems to be thinking the same thing as he leans forward, his eyes flicking to your own lips. 

He brings his hand up to rest on the back of your neck as he pulls you close as your hands press against his chest, the two of you slowly leaning in until his lips finally slot between yours. It’s gentle and sweet but awkward. It’s almost like neither of you have kissed anyone before and the awkwardness of it just makes you both giggle, especially when you acknowledge how weird the whole thing really is. 

But that doesn’t seem to stop either of you as you lean in again, more hungry this time as his hands move up into your hair and his shirt is bunched in your fist as his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a moan and you’re not sure how you ended up there, but no you’re straddling his lap as he bunches up your dress around your waist as his hands press against your bare back. 

You begin to grind against his crotch and he lets out a moan of his own as he tries his best to buck his hips against yours. He doesn’t know when you ditched your cardigan but it’s now in the passenger seat and he’s kissing the now exposed skin of your shoulder as you continue to grind on him. 

“I need you,” you whine into his mouth when he reconnects your lips and hearing you be so needy for him is making him unbelievably hard. 

“I’m yours,” he breaths and you immediately move to pull down his sweat pants and underwear. You then reach down and pull the lever to lean the seat back, letting out a loud laugh at how it jerks back, causing you to fall forward on top of him. Eddie’s convinced that hearing your pretty has added ten years to his life. 

You kiss him again and gasp when his fingers push your panties to the side, pushing inside and you let out a sound that’s so hot that he’s trying to commit to memory so he can replay it in his head over and over. He pumps in and out, moving slowly, trying to figure out what you like and when you grab hold of his hand and push it farther, he gets the hint. He moves fast and hard, looking up just in time to see you throw your head back, another pretty moan escaping your lips. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Sound so pretty. Wanna make some more noises for me?” 

“Please,” you beg and he keeps his eyes on you, wondering how you’ll react when he gets inside you considering that just his fingers are already making you crazy. He pumps even harder and you grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them tightly as you’re already orgasming and it makes you realize how selfish Henry really was in bed.

As Eddie gives you time to catch your breath, you realize how crazy this whole thing really is. How many people end up sleeping with the person their partner cheated with? And how many times does it feel even better than it did with their partner? 

When he asks you what you like and you almost want to cry at how sweet he’s being, how he actually wants to make you feel good. You can’t believe that this is the same man who people are convinced is a vessel for the devil. 

“Can we go slow?” You ask and Eddie smiles, making your heart melt. 

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies as his hands move up and down your hips as his hands slide up your dress to help you remove your panties before you toss them onto your cardigan. 

Once he gets inside, you begin to ride him, slowly moving up and down as your dress comes off to reveal your bare chest that Eddie so desperately wants to get his mouth on. He can’t help but watch your tits bounce as your pace picks up just slightly, his hands resting on your waist as he guides you while bucking his hips against yours. 

The windows are progressively fogging up as the rain continues to hit the roof, but your moans and panting seem to down out the sound. Eddie let his eyes flutter closed even though he knows he could watch you for hours. He can’t believe that Henry actually told you to your face that he was only fucking Eddie because he needed what you couldn’t give him. 

This is easily the best sex he’s ever had and he doesn’t know how he’s going to move on after this. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he asked you to come to his place. He wants to explore all the ways he can bring you pleasure, to show you how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful woman in his bed. 

“Oh my god,” you whine and Eddie knows what’s approaching. He can see it as he gets fully seated inside you, watching you cry on his cock as you take all of him as another orgasm courses through you, his name falling from your lips this time. 

“Eddie,” you practically scream and he's not that far behind you, reaching his own peak, pulling out in just the knick of time as he leaks out all over the both of you. 

“Guess this means we’ll both have to shower,” you tell him and he can’t help but smile widely. 

“Guess it does,” he nods and reaches into his glove box for some napkins to attempt to clean the both of you up as best as he can before putting your dress back on before helping you back into your seat. He then pulls up his pants and puts the car in drive before taking you to his apartment so you both can get cleaned up amongst other things. 

As you sit in Eddie’s passenger seat, coming down from the best orgasm of your life, you can’t believe that you just slept with the guy your ex boyfriend cheated on you with. And you can’t believe even more that you’re about to do it again. 

Eddie’s hand lands on your thigh and he gives us a squeeze as he turns out of the diner parking lot, both of you actually thanking Henry as fucked up as it is, because it led you to each other. And both of you couldn’t be more grateful for that. 

[moonstruckme]

hiiii sorry I feel like I request so much I just love your stories!!!! could you do an EMT poly!marauders where the reader is coming home from an injury or surgery or something and they’re just being all sweet and overprotective of her

Don't be sorry sweetheart, thank you for requesting!! <3

cw: mentions of hospital, surgery (no details), nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 930 words

“Careful of the step,” Remus warns as he unlocks the front door. 

James makes a disgruntled little sound as he passes over it with you in his arms, angling you sideways to get you both through the front door. 

“I know where the step is,” he says. “I’ve lived here exactly as long as you.” 

“I just wanted to make sure.” Remus heads straight for the bathroom. “Do you want to have some more ibuprofen, dove? It’s been long enough now.” 

“Yes, please,” you call after him. James sets you down on the couch, a divot forming between his brows at the thick quality to your voice. 

“Siri has your bag,” he reminds you. “You want it, just to be safe?” 

You nod, swallowing. 

Sirius hustles over, crouching in front of you and holding the plastic bag under your mouth. “Oh, baby,” he coos, setting a hand on the back of your neck while you shudder and cough unproductively over the bag. “I know, I’m sorry. Better make it aspirin, Rem,” he calls down the hall. “She’s still got a fever.” 

“How bad?” 

“I’ll check in a bit.” He presses his lips to your hairline, murmuring softly. “She’s under duress at the moment, aren’t you, poor girl?” 

You want to cry for the sweetness in his tone, not one ounce of teasing. It can be hard to tell with Sirius, sometimes, but when you’re not feeling well he goes gooey-soft and saccharine as honey, all pet names and gentle touches. His thumb strokes the baby hairs at your nape. 

Remus sighs as he comes back. “I knew we shouldn’t have checked her out.” 

“I didn’t want to stay there,” you say into the bag, and James splays a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles. 

“We know, sweetheart.” He gives his fretful boyfriend a reassuring smile. Remus returns it wearily. “We can take care of you just fine from here, don’t worry.” 

Within an hour of waking up from your surgery feeling nauseous and pathetic, you’d been begging anyone who would listen to let you go home. The hospital had wanted to monitor you for a couple more hours, but after that your boyfriends had been able to exercise some sort of paramedic privilege and take you home early despite the normal two-to-three-day inpatient protocol. Your troubles hadn’t evaporated the way you’d expected upon getting out from under all that fluorescent lighting, but you do feel much better being miserable on your own couch. 

You cough into the bag a few more times before relinquishing yourself to the idea that you’re stuck with this nausea for the foreseeable future. “I don’t like this,” you decide, lowering the bag from your face. 

Remus tosses a thermometer to Sirius, who catches it with a good-natured eye-roll and sets it in your ear compliantly. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” James says, his hand migrating to your shoulder as you lean back against the couch cushions. “I know it’s rough right now.” 

The thermometer beeps, and Sirius reads the number aloud as he takes it out. You frown. 

“Oh, thank god,” Remus exhales. James chuckles at him. 

“It’s okay?” you check. 

“Perfectly okay.” Sirius kisses your temple. “That’s completely normal for the first twenty-four hours. You’re all good, sweetness.” 

Pathetically, you feel a bit invalidated. To feel as gross as you do, surely your brain would have to be fully boiling in there. James must see some of this on your face, because he scoots closer to you on the couch, leaning you against his side. 

“Sorry,” you say quietly. 

You can feel Sirius gaze boring into the side of your head as he perches on the armrest. “Not sure why you would be,” he mutters, worming his cold feet underneath your thigh, “but do go on.” 

“I made you all take me home and now I’m being difficult.” 

You’re not quite looking at any of them, but you could swear a collective sigh goes up from your boyfriends. 

“Dove,” says Remus, “look at me.” 

You do, shifting ever so slightly closer to James' side for comfort. A quiet chuckle rumbles through him, his thumb sweeping back and forth over your shoulder. 

Remus’ gaze is steady and kind, his usual remonstrance curbed for your sorry state. “You’re not being difficult,” he tells you. “You’re tired and not feeling well, and that’s to be expected after a procedure like this. I didn’t mean I regret us taking you home, I’m only nervous that you’d have been better taken care of in the hospital.” 

“Impossible,” Sirius remarks. Remus nods in grudging acknowledgement. 

“I’m glad I’m home,” you say, and despite your best intentions your voice teeters on the edge of a whimper. “I’d rather be with just you guys, you know?” 

“We know,” Remus says gently. “I’m glad you’re here, too.” 

James makes a soft sound, rubbing your shoulder more firmly. “Are you feeling tired, angel? We could have a nap.” 

“We?” you ask.

“What, you think you’re the only one who deserves a rest?” Sirius wiggles his toes underneath your thigh. “You got to sleep just this morning. We’ve been worrying all day long.” 

You smile. He looks thrilled to see it, and James stamps a kiss of approval on your cheek. “Right, my bad. A nap sounds good.” 

“Perfect,” Remus agrees, standing. James needles his arms underneath you to pick you up again. 

“Fairly sure they said I could walk on my own,” you say. 

James only shrugs, carrying you towards the bedroom. “Not sure I heard that part. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

[artstennisracket]

Fire and Ice read Thirst Tweets! ib: all the thirst tweet videos buzzfeed makes art donaldson x patrick zweig x tashi duncan :)

big shoutout to the lovely @diyasgarden for editing the thumbnail and making my idea come to life <3

cw: nsfw (18+), no smut but suggestive content

The bright lights of the studio were something Art had become accustomed to over the years. Many interviews and photoshoots later. But for Patrick this was all new. He wasn’t sure why so many people had gained interest in him after the challenger, but he wasn’t complaining about it. Now that Tashi was coaching him, and he and Art were playing doubles again, it definitely added to that garnered interest.

Today they’d be doing an interview together but it was completely unlike anything Art has ever done before.

“Hello! I’m Art Donaldson”

“And I’m Patrick Zweig”

“And we’re here with Buzzfeed to read your thirst tweets” Art finished.

When the Donaldson’s publicist had presented this opportunity originally, Art was confused . Who would be thirsting over two 30 something tennis players? To which Patrick responded, “We’re hot Art. Let’s just give the people what they want.” Tashi okayed it as long as they were on their best behavior, and with the stipulation that she gets to go over the final edit. Throuple rumors were at an all time high and while they weren’t necessarily incorrect, Tashi needed these rumors to die.

“I’m actually excited for this,” Patrick says leaning forward in his chair. Shuffling the cards with twitter screenshots in his hand.

Art shrugs, looking at the stack of cards in his hand, “I’m nervous? Why am I nervous?”

A producer off screen calls out, “Which one’s fire and which one’s ice?”

Art starts, “I-“

Only for Patrick to cut him off, “What do you think?” He smirks.

Cut.

Patrick reads his first card.

“@tennisluv3r says I need to climb Patrick Zweig like a tree. That was a pretty tame one, I don’t think that’s the first time I’ve heard that one,” he chuckles.

Art reads his first card.

“ @gaeulchild says Thinking about Art Donaldson backshots once again. Oh that picked up very quickly. I can’t tell if that means they want me to do that to them or they want to do that to me?”

“Probably both,” Patrick chimes in.

Cut.

“ @itoldyatshirt says Patrick Zweig is the kind of guy who would eat your food and your ass. That is bold accusation.” Patrick says, not being able to help the smile spreading across his face.

“But they’re right,” Arts adds nodding. Only for Patrick to start cracking up. That’s when Art realizes how that sounded, “About the food part!!!! About the food not the, yeah you get it.” Art sighs, faint blush dusting his cheeks. They were right about both parts.

Cut.

“@atpalltheway530 says Art is soooo fine, i need him BAD. Thank you but I think need is a strong word. There are so many other things you actually need like food and water.”

Patrick shoots Art an amused look, “Don’t invalidate their feelings man. Not cool.”

Art scoffs, “Whatever man.”

“@artstennisracket says I want my man to look at me the way Patrick looks at Art’s ass when they’re playing doubles,” Patrick laughs because it’s not not wrong. But he was under specific instructions from Tashi to not add fuel to the throuple rumours that were circulating. “That was a good one, I’ll give you that.” What else was he supposed to say?

Art shakes his head playfully, “So that’s what you’re doing back there? Instead returning serves like you’re supposed to?”

Patrick shrugs, “I’m only human.” He’ll deal with Tashi’s disappointment later, he was having fun.

Cut.

Art’s face contorts when he looks at the card, “Oh I can’t read this.”

Patrick shoves him playfully, “You have to, that's the challenge.”

Art looks over at Patrick, “There’s no challenge we’re just reading—“

“Just read it.”

Art sighs asking off camera, “Are we allowed to curse?” He gets a thumbs up from the producer who says, “We’ll bleep it out later.”

He takes in a breath, “@atptruther says I want Art Donaldson to fuck me with a tennis racket until I cum all over it and then he makes me clean it up… I don’t even know what to say to that.” He looks down at his hand, mimicking his grip on a tennis racket to remember the width, “I feel like that’s not even anatomically possible.”

Patrick wants to say That makes two of us, but that would mean certain death from Tashi. So he opts for the safer option, “Anything’s possible if you believe.”

Cut.

“@tacobacoyeet says Need to lick the sweat off Patrick’s abs post match, can I be his designated sweat licker? Is that a thing? While I am extremely flattered I don’t think that’s a thing,” He chuckles before signing to the camera and mouthing Call me.

Art laughs as he can’t even begin to comprehend the logistics behind any of these tweets but the next one is so astronomically long he has to ask, “You want me to read this whole thing?”

The producer replies, “As much as you want but reading most of it would be appreciated.”

He clears his throat before he starts,” @sceletaflores says no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor, to the toilet seat, from the dining room table, to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink, to the shower, from the front porch, to the balcony, vertically horizontally, quadratic, exponent, algorithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, forward, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall— Okay I think I’m done. I have no response I don’t even know what half those math words mean.”

Patrick grabs the card from Art to read the rest, “Wow they were not playing around. I’m sorry I can’t stop laughing. So much effort went into this Art you should be appreciative to,” He glances at the card again, “Sceletaflores. C’mon tell them.” He says gesturing to the camera.

Art sighs side eyeing Patrick before he looks back to the camera to say, “Thank you @sceletaflores. I appreciate the effort you put into typing that out.”

Cut.

“@Anon5376 says All three of my holes are for the use of Patrick Zweig and Patrick Zweig only. I would let him use me everyday of the week and twice on days that end in Y. He definitely seems like the kinda guy who presses on your lower stomach while hes in you just to feel how deep he is ,” He hangs his head for a second to hide how much he’s smiling. It’s just funny because well, it’s true he does do that.

The faint blush on Art’s cheeks isn’t helping but it’s not Art’s fault. The sex flashbacks are running through his brain now. So Art laughs and hopes people assume that’s why his face is flushing. From all the laughter.

Patrick looks up at the camera forcing himself not to look at Art, “Wow I love the enthusiasm in that one.”

“People really tweet these? Like on the internet? For anyone to see?,” Art says.

Cut.

The producer starts, “Since everyone knows you two dormed together for 6 years at boarding school, we have a few tweets relating to the both of you so you guys can alternate reading them.”

Art and Patrick have a new stack of cards in their hands. So Patrick goes first, “ @artdonaldsonbabygirl says someone needs to invent time travel so I can give Art head while Patrick fucks me in their dorm room asap. I swear some of you guys are psychic. How’d you know?” Patrick laughs.

Art smacks Patrick’s shoulder with the cards he has, “Stop. We never did anything like that ever,” He turns to look at the camera, “He’s joking.”

Patrick nods smirking but holding up his hands in defense, “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

Cut.

Art goes next, “ @artdonaldsonbabygirl, wow two for one, says best believe if I went to that academy I'd have left a teen mum and wouldn't know which was the baby daddy. Okay well,” Art laughs this time. “Okay this was funny, but everyone should be practicing safe sex. And regardless we had no time for shenanigans at the academy. It was just school and tennis.”

“Who even calls sex shenanigans? What are you 80 years old?” Patrick snickers before he continues, “Yeah maybe you didn’t have enough time Mr. Goodie Two shoes, but I had more than enough time,” Patrick winks at the camera.

“And that’s why your grades were the way they were.” Art jokes.

Cut.

“Okay gotta save the best one for last,” Patrick says holding up the last tweet. This one had a picture attached to it.

“Oh my gosh, how did you guys even get this picture?” Patrick bursts out laughing, “I completely forgot about this specific moment. Even though, this was one of the best days of my life.”

Confusion leaves Art’s face as Patrick turns the card so Art can also see the picture. “Wait yeah how did you guys find this? I don’t remember anyone taking a picture,” Art asks chuckling.

“@compress1repress says Why were you doing missionary on the court in 2006? Well as you can see we’re just not big on doggy.”

If Art had water in his mouth, he would’ve spit it out, “Patrick!”

Patrick is itching to make a comment about how they actually did both this morning, missionary with Art and doggy with Tashi, but he refrains.

Cut.

“Thank you so much for having us Buzzfeed. This was really fun. You guys are so incredibly creative, we love it. Right Ice?”

“No this was actually very fun, I’m glad we agreed to do it. And you guys are amazing. We love you all. And I’m not calling you fire.”

Cut.

taglist: @artdonaldsonbabygirl @tacobacoyeet @newrochellechallenger2019 @antxnxlla

[hotchnersangel]

I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU

Aaron Hotchner.

This is fully mentioning eating disorders and may be triggering to people suffering, in recovery or even prone to struggle. Please, take care of yourselves babies, you are strong, you are brave and your body is your home. You are and will always be more than your body and no matter what you are beautiful the way you are.

read with caution.

cw; self-loathing, ed awareness, struggles with eating, hurt, protective hitch, blood, passing out, fem!reader, bau!reader and more

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

If feeling like the world hates you isn't enough, try hating yourself. Try waking up day in and day out facing the battle of your life, every waking moment. When you think it is over, nope, you were just too nice to believe you were struggling. At this point, it became a huge definition of you and who you are, without meaning to. Your ED was something you learnt to live with and grew accustomed to seeing and living through since you were about sixteen. It had taken a huge toll on your life.

You lived your life in fear of numbers on a label, on a menu. You were trapped within your mind, building a cage around your freedom. You live your life shadowed by food and yet, you could never shake it.

You thought that not going to the hospital meant it was invalid, that it wasn't actually an eating disorder. You don't think that you have what is considered to be an ed, instead, you think you're just picky. That is what you play it off to be.

You reached a stage in your life where it got better, you never stopped checking calorie labels, and you think there won't be a day that happens. But, you forgave yourself for breaking your restrictions.

That was until you saw yourself on TV during a case. At that moment, you reverted to every old trick in the book, hating how your body looked with the extra weight it was carrying. So, you simply stopped. You stopped eating when unnecessary, you stopped your sweet treats, and your calorie intake over a limited number. You stopped feeling grateful for your body and instead began to loathe it. You began to loathe yourself, your mind.

You assumed it would just be the same as usual, you were only heightening what was already going on after all but slowly, you felt your body grow exhausted.

You lost your spark, your drive, your energy. The fulfilling aura surrounding you started to thin and eventually, the team started to notice your decline. Specifically on one case, the hotel was offering free breakfast which you declined, claiming you were full from dinner- but, it was harder to hide at dinner. Rossi suggested you all go out, on him, to celebrate completing the case and this was the beginning of a domino effect in the unravelling of your issue.

You went out, of course you did.

You also ran out of clothes and had to ask JJ and Emily to share, having always been the same size as them, which confused you because they were always so fit physically. Emily offered you an off-the-shoulder dress which you thought you would break if you tried to put it on. You immediately feel self-conscious after putting it on, your shoulders fully on display, your hips filling the dress, making it squeeze into your body. You hate it. You really hate it. It always looked so good on Emily, but it doesn't look good on you. Fuck. You have to push back your tears.

Walking into the elevator, you see Hotch leaning against the wall on his phone, he looks up when you walk in and he smiles at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you say quietly, suddenly extremely aware of your shoulders and arms right now. Aware of the bump in the dress where your stomach sticks out, the way the dress feels like it is going to burst out the seams. You didn't even realise you were zoned out until Hotch spoke up again.

"Are you cold?" He inquires, raising an eyebrow as he looks over you. Unknowingly you had your arms crossed over your body, breathing in your stomach and covering your arms at all costs.

"No." You reply confused until you realise why he thought that. You don't drop them though, just shaking your head at him. "No, I'm not."

He takes his jacket off, handing it to you absentmindedly, looking over at you with concern. "It will be cold out there, here."

"Thank you," you tell him genuinely. He nods and you both meet the team.

At the restaurant, Aaron makes a move to sit beside you. He watched as your eyes flared in panic reading the menu and he was trying to piece together what was going on with you.

When it comes to ordering, you order the lowest calorie option which happened to be a soup. The team pulled a face and then moved on. Though, when the meals arrive, you look at the other's plates with envy. They could eat that and still be fit. Why couldn't you just be normal?

Aaron must have noticed your expression as he offered you his meal, to swap. You smile at him for his gesture but you shake your head at him. "Thank you but I'm not that hungry."

Through the night, everyone tucked into their meals but you continued to sip your wine when the others watched but then you swapped to your water when you suspected no one looking. Then you blamed yourself for not finishing your meal on the technicality that you had too much wine.

Smart, Aaron thought as he started to understand what was going on.

You all went back to the hotel and the case was over. From that day on, Aaron has been keeping an eye on you. He monitored you on your lunch breaks and then on cases made sure you had something.

However, you promised yourself that you wouldn't let your picky eating interfere with a case. Never cross personal matters with work. But, you lost the privacy privilege when you starved yourself for days on end and slowly became trailer and weaker. You were noticeably losing weight and now everyone was starting to realise because eventually, you became addicted to the idea. You found comfort in your disorder and it both terrified and rejoyced you.

Midway through a case, you and the bau were en route to catching the unsub. You're all sat outside, planning how to enter the building safely, you decide to ignore the black splodges delicately kissing your vision and continue with the plan. You were paired with Hotchner and thankfully, Morgan and Emily had caught the unsub because shortly after running into the house, you searched the kitchen and you remember feeling a rush of dizziness and the way the room spun before you blacked out into a faded daze.

You wake up shortly, Hotch by your side as he holds some tissue above your eye. You blink with confusion for a moment as you return from your disorientation to the reality of what just happened. You blink a few times, trying to sit up but being ushered to stay sat down by Aaron.

"Don't move, you've hit your head." He mutters, his eyebrows pulled together tightly with concern and some traces of anger.

You don't speak. You don't know what to say really.

Paramedics come in and check you over, attending to your wound and informing you that you will have a black and bruised eye shortly. Once they give you the okay, they leave you with Aaron telling him to keep an eye on you to ensure no head traumas show late signs.

He sighs and looks at you softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, very tired and I have an awful migraine." You frown, looking up at him as your hand moves to your head and eye region and you flinch at the tenderness of the wound.

"What happened?" You finally ask the dreaded question, looking directly towards him now. He frowns.

"You passed out and hit your head on the counter on your way down." He informs you, placing his hand on your back and offering you his hand to stand up. Eventually, you do, your knees wobbling as you do but Aaron ensures that he has a firm and tight grip on you, so you do not fall. "We will speak more about this and what caused you to pass out later but you should rest."

You look at your hands when you walk to the SUV, Hotch guiding you the whole way. You knew you had to tell him, you knew that he already knew what was going on he's a profiler, the unit chief too so of course he knows.

You stay silent the whole way back to the hotel, absentmindedly looking outside the window as both your phone and his buzzed with notifications, probably from the team asking for an update on the situation. Although, you didn't check your phone and nor did Aaron, since he was driving.

When you arrived at the hotel, Aaron walked you to your room. "I'll send Emily or JJ over to stay with you if you'd like."

"No- please. I love them but that really isn't what I need right now. please." You plead him, staring so fearfully into his eyes that his heart breaks to see how beaten down you truly are.

"I was told you need to be under close supervision, forgive me for assuming you'd want them- I just thought you would rather be with a woman." Hotch explains and you nod.

"Can- can you stay with me?" You ask so quietly that he wasn't even sure if he imagined it or not. "Out of everyone, I'd want it to be you, yeah." You nod sheepishly at him and he nods with a small smile, following in after you walked into your room.

"I'm just going to grab my bag, get some pyjamas on and ready for bed and I'll be back." He tells you, not wanting to leave so he hesitates his departure. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Aaron, go." To which he does and you change, catching your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Staring into it as tears caress your cheeks. You honestly have no idea how long you have been there, criticising your reflection in the bathroom mirror. So distracted you don't hear the hotel room door open again until you see his figure appear behind you in the reflection.

"I wasn't going to speak with you about this tonight but I think we need to." He says, staring into your eyes through the mirror. Your glossy and red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm speaking to you tonight as someone who cares about you and puts your health first, okay?" Hotch says, leading you to sit on the bed. He tilts your chin to look at him. "What happened today simply cannot happen again, okay?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen- you know that."

"I do but I don't know what you expected honey," He says softly.

The silence between you is palpable in that moment. "I swore my personal life and my work life would never cross."

Aaron sighs and looks away for a moment, looking back at you. "Your eating disorder affects your body both in and outside of work; you can't pick and choose when it can take a toll on you."

You stay silent. "I don't have an eating disorder."

"Yeah, love... you do." He says softly, looking at you to gauge your reaction; which wasn't being taken well.

"No- I do not." You defend, raising your voice slightly. "Just because I'm a picky eater doesn't mean I have an- doesn't mean I have it."

"When was the last time you ate?" He asks you, again, with no judgement and just a casual tone as if it was an ordinary conversation.

"Today."

He gives you a look. "When was the last time you ate more than three mouthfuls of food?"

You frown, getting ready to shout again. You weren't shouting at him, you were just mad at the situation. Though, it got cut short, interrupted by a sob. At this, Aaron was quick to pull you into his chest, wrapping his large arms around your shoulders. His hand caresses your hair, stoking it as he lets you cry into his shoulder. He understands that you've been holding this in for a very long time and he isn't happy you're struggling, but he is glad that you are letting him in.

'I don't wanna live like this anymore." Your voice shakes as you clutch his shirt. "I'm so tired."

He closes his eyes, feeling tears swell in his chest at the raw pain of your voice. "I'm here for you, I'm going to help you get you through this."

You pull back and look at him.

"You need to admit it," He moves his hand to your cheek, gently brushing the tears away, making sure he doesn't touch your injured eye- which was breaking out into a bruise through the swelling.

"I can't," you shake your head, hating how the words hurt your chest. The burning sensation as it lingers in your heart, physically scoring at your heart.

Hotch smiles encouragingly at you, "In order for me to help you, you need to admit that you're suffering honey."

"I-" you fall silent and Hotch doesn't speak, he doesn't rush you; he just lets you figure out your emotions by yourself. "Fuck, Hotch I think you were right. I have an... eating disorder."

The words feel like a splinter embedded into the skin, a sudden urge to vomit surging through your body- yet there was nothing to come up. Your mouth tasted like acid and your chest grew hot very quickly. But, it then subsided ever so slightly and there was almost a trace of... relief?

"I'm so proud of you." Hotch looks at you softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you frowned. "You admiring it is so progressive, do you know that?"

You shake your head, "I'm not feeling it."

"You will, eventually. We will take this slow okay? It won't happen overnight but believe me, you're on the road to recovery."