#my head is a burning garbage dump

[semisomnosres]

My random thoughts about My Immortal Soul:

The ninja suit is made from the feathers of a huge bird, and Chase turns into a huge lizard because he drank sour soup from a talking bean. Technically, they can be described as: two elderly Asians over +90 years old, fighting and flirting with each other in their fursuits.

And let's imagine a scenario where the First still won against Chase, imprisoned his soul in Nomicon (or in a psychiatric ward), but in theory the body will remain, will it be possible to rip off the skin and make magical equipment using the same method as the Tengu suit? I'm sure somewhere in the book there are instructions on how to sew. I think that sewing something from leather is easier than doing it from feathers. And is it possible to make more suits from other powerful creatures. If so, I would start catching the most evil creatures, so that I wouldn’t feel sorry for them, and use them as weapons against other equally evil creatures. Although (apart from unknown, most likely life-threatening, conditions) there are still theoretical problems. Firstly, Chase is much smaller than Tengu, in which case it would only be enough for bracers or gloves (although it would be cool if it was enough for full-fledged armor. With a duet of Samurai and Ninja, crime would be significantly reduced). And the owner, especially a child, will not be able to curb so much dark magic at once, so it’s better not to combine them And if Chase “dies” like that in the form of a reptile, will he turn into a human or will he remain like that? It’s just that if he becomes a human, then removing his skin will look like a cut scene from Hannibal. The first one probably knows how to get rid of a person's body so that there are no traces left (ninjas are hired killers after all) despite the new circumstance in the form of a sorcerer, he was still trained in this matter, and one of the most effective ways is to hide the body in parts. Although in those days it was enough to take the body to the mountains far away, where there are plenty of animals and they will gnaw the body for a sweet soul, but there are situations where taking the body out is far from an option. or at least watched how his brothers / parents / clanmates did it

[soppingwethog]

Warm Bulb by Clue Perfumery

I’m sorry. I really am. I hate to take up so much space on this wonderful webpage, but I feel that it is my duty to provide an honest, transparent review and doing so requires that I give a little background information regarding the first time I came across this singular, potent juice.

When I was younger, I collected hundreds of oak galls over a period of several years. If you’re not familiar with these arborous anomalies, they are spherical growths that can occasionally be found on oak trees. I won’t go into all of the slimy details about their formation, but I will say that wasps and chemicals are involved.

As a youngster, I found these galls alluring unlike any other naturally occurring orb. They captured my imagination and, in return, I captured them and kept my specimens in a disused dumpster which I found behind a burned out restaurant which was down the street from where I used to live. I never did get an exact count of all of my galls, but I can assure you that it was well over three hundred at one point.

I was quite proud of my collection and would often try to impress my schoolmates by showing them my hidden bounty. Unfortunately, I was often met with ridicule and scorn and more than once did I find myself being tossed into my dumpster full of galls by a particularly ornery classmate who had found my incessant gall-based boasts to be distasteful. I shan't blame them for their actions. After all, we were only children and I am deeply irritating most of the time.

Sometimes, after having been bludgeoned about and thrown into the gall dumpster, I would sit quietly inside and wait for the one who had tossed me to tire themselves out by laughing at my expense and then leave so that I could escape without any further thrashings. If it was an exceptionally warm day, the interior of the dumpster would take on a very unique, comforting odor. It never smelled like rubbish or garbage inside. I had spent three whole weeks carefully scrubbing and sanitizing the interior of that steel receptacle before I dared placing my first gall within its hungry jaws.

The smell was indescribable, but I will do my best to describe it to you now. It smelled like a very warm metal container filled with oak galls, both old and new. If you do not know what that smells like, then I highly recommend purchasing yourself a dumpster, filling it with galls during the warmer months, climbing inside, and taking a big, hearty whiff. It’s really something.

I was recently in my hometown and I attempted to visit the crumbling remains of the restaurant where I had spent so much time as a child only to find that it had been completely razed. This saddened me to no end, but miraculously, I was able to find the storied dumpster of my youth which had been nearly overgrown with brambles and tall grasses. I had an intense urge to get inside and see if any of my precious galls remained.

Unfortunately, I was unable to do so because as I was tearing the thorny vines from the exterior of this sacred tomb, an armed security officer clubbed the top of my head with what I assume was an improvised sort of nightstick. I collapsed and let out a mournful wail. The security guard told me to remain motionless and I did not disobey his command. Through my tears and over my sobs, I was able to make out that he was radioing for backup. I asked him why he had hit me but he did not reply. I attempted to stand, but I found that I was unable to support myself.

Upon seeing me try to get up from the tangled mass of brambles into which I had collapsed, the guard again brought his club down onto my brain box, splitting it open and leaving me in a state of horrible darkness and silence.

I was finally roused from my cudgel-induced sleep when a full bucket of filthy mop water was dumped onto my head and into my mouth. Choking, gasping, disoriented, and in extreme anguish, I begged for my assailant to stop drowning me. After a few minutes, I was able to right myself and I saw that I was still on the ground in the decrepit lot of the demolished restaurant. There was nobody near me. My hands were bound behind my back with a great mass of looped brambles which I was able to loosen only after a great deal of effort.

It was evening as I stumbled toward my hotel. Upon entering the lobby, I heard a woman gasp and then shriek. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I looked quite dreadful and I don’t blame the woman for reacting as she did when accosted with my wretched visage. I turned to her and apologized, but she just screamed and screamed. I took a step toward her as I hoped I might be able to explain how I came to look as I did, but she quickly turned and ran out of the building, dropping her purse in the process. I picked up her purse and attempted to chase after her so that I might return it to her, but my throbbing head and trembling legs prevented me from doing so.

As I reentered the hotel, I too dropped the long gone woman’s purse and, unfortunately, I heard something shatter. I picked up the purse and peered in to find a broken bottle of Warm Bulb by Clue Perfumery. Knowing what sort of luck I often have, I did not want to keep the purse in my possession lest some constable accuse me of assaulting and robbing the poor woman to whom it belonged so I quickly turned it over to the front desk staff at the hotel.

As I did so, I somehow managed to get some of this intensely odorous elixir into the many bleeding gashes on my hand. I rushed to my room and washed the burning fluid from my sores. As of now, I am not able to provide an exhaustive account of how it smelled, but I can assure you that it is extremely painful to get Warm Bulb by Clue Perfumery into any sort of gaping wound.

[namgyunation]

but not kiss

Pairings: Nam-gyu x fem!reader Summary: You and Nam-gyu fight. You leave. You regret it. Or; a very short drabble about your relationship with Nam-gyu leading up to the games. Warning: toxic relationship, drug use, language and like one suggestive moment, Nam-gyu is an asshole, this is mostly plotless, I honestly just wanted to write about a little piece of my headcanon of pre-game Nam-gyu's life :3 Word count: 3.3k A/N: not proof-read, i just wanted to write bruh

I hope you're okay, but I won't ask.

The bed was warm. Warmer than you were used to in the cold, dingy apartment you used to call home. The home you shared with him.

Heat clung to your clothes and shut you in at all sides, the soft blanket on top of you enclosing you in the pocket of comfort. Despite this, a shiver rippled through your body. You pulled the blanket up to your face and breathed it in. It smelled of fresh detergent. Flowery. Sweet. Foreign. You shoved it to the side and sat up, heart thrumming steadily beneath your ribs in a way that was uncharacteristic for the environment.

The room around you was cute, clean, and unassuming. Safety in the form of pale pink walls. Still, you couldn't shake the anxiety buzzing and zipping through you like a current. He was out of sight but nowhere near out of your mind. You hugged yourself, feeling the warmth of your fingertips through the thin cotton pajamas ghosted over your frame.

It had been a week since you fought with Nam-gyu. A week since you stormed out, your eyes bone-dry and a lump in your throat. A week since your friend yanked you into the safety or her little black car and sped away from your apartment. She'd been your knight in shining armor saving you from the dragon's maw of your now-ex-boyfriend.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand next to you, fanning the dull ache that had drilled its way into your chest. One whole week. The drill dug deeper.

At first, Nam-gyu hid himself behind a wall of pride, the very behavior that often fanned the dysfunction between you. You remembered the weight of his stare as he watched you get smaller and smaller in the passenger-seat of your friend's car. He'd walked back inside with an eerie calm, shutting the door quietly as if you two hadn't nearly ripped each others head off. An aloofness that said 'I'll wait.' He somehow managed to stretch the facade for a whopping three hours. You knew him, and it was a fact that he was nothing short of dependent.

Once the realization dawned on him that you were actually serious this time, the proverbial flood gates opened. Soon, your phone had become a dumping grounds for his many pleas and curses and nonsensical garbage. Voicemail after voicemail. Text after text. Still, you just couldn't bring yourself to block him. You couldn't.

You sucked in a breath between clenched teeth, unlocking the phone quickly before you could change your mind.

'going to work. gonna try a bunch of new shit tonight since u don't give a fuck about me anymore lol'

You stared at the screen, letting it grow dim as you let out a long, drawn-out exhale. You sat in silence, trying to will away the pit that grew deeper in your stomach. Without you around to monitor him, force him to eat and take care of himself, and most importantly, discourage his excessive drug usage, who knew what kind of bullshit he was putting into his body. The image of Nam-gyu passed out on the floor surrounded by his 'friends' without you there to drag him home burned itself into your mind. You dragged a hand down your face. It wasn't your responsibility anymore. You had to let him go.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to mentally swat away all the scenarios flashing through your head, all of which ended with Nam-gyu passed out in a strange, dark place with a needle in his arm and pills spilling from his throat. Something hot was pushing behind your eyes. You almost felt like calling him, but you didn't.

It had barely even been a minute before another message lit the screen up again.

'fucking stuck up bitch'

After surviving a relationship with someone like Nam-gyu, the words 'bitch' and 'cunt' barely affected you anymore. You'd heard them so much, they'd practically lost all meaning.

You scrolled up to all the other new messages he'd sent since last night. While you were sleeping, he'd sent you a wall of text, each one stumbling over the other and settling in a puddle of word vomit at your feet. Wherever he was when he wrote them, it was nowhere near a state of sobriety.

You held your breath as your eyes flitted over each one.

'don't do this to me'

'selfish whore'

'who the hell are u with'

'my baby m yprincess mysweet girl'

'you fucking abandoned me'

'no one is going to fuck you like i do so just stop being a dumb bitch and come home. i forgive you'

'iloveyouviloveyouiloveyou imso sorry i love you i loveyou'

'dumb stupid cunt i never needed u anwyays. u seriously think ur better than me???? i don't give a fuck'

'bed's so cold without u'

His emotions were all over the place, bouncing back and forth with each new text. It was so, so pathetic. Your mind was foggy, chest aching as your thumbs hovered unsteadily over the keyboard. If you didn't distract yourself right now, you were sure you'd say something stupid.

"I--" You deflated, voice cracking pathetically, as if you weren't about to cry over the most pathetic bum ass of a man alive. You swallowed thickly, stifling a sob as you choked on your words, "God. I miss him."

Two knocks on the door saved you from the impending breakdown. You straightened, quickly hopping to your feet and letting the phone drop to the bed. You swiped at your eyes, hoping you didn't look like as much of a loser as you felt. Slowly, the door opened, and your friend's head poked through the crack. She smiled at you, one hand on the door knob, another on a plate of food. She slipped in slowly, carefully, as if entering an enclosure with a wild animal.

"Heyyy," she said, awkwardly. You wondered if she'd heard you just moments before. "I heard you wake up! Figured you could use some food." Ah. She most definitely had. She smiled softly, holding out the plate to you. "I made you some breakfast earlier. I heated it up just now for you."

You took it gratefully. "Thank you," you sighed. Where would you be right now if it weren't for her? "I appreciate it, really. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a burden. I would've woken up earlier, but. Ugh. I just feel like shit."

She shushed you and took a seat next to you. "It's fine. I get it. I'm glad you're here with me instead of with that asshole." She rubbed a warm hand on your back reassuringly but didn't say anything more.

Music pounded in Nam-gyu's ears and in his chest as he leaned over his phone, elbows pressed into his thighs and knuckles going white around his phone as the bass reverberated through his bones and reached into the deepest pits of his body. The sensation and noise did nothing to distract from the anger slowly snaking through him and gripping him like a vice.

Nothing. You'd said nothing to him in a week now. It was like you didn't even care. He bounced his leg frantically, mind racing at a million miles a minute. So you didn't care? He didn't either.

He didn't.

The air around him hung thick with the scent of alcohol, smoke, bodies, bodies, and more bodies. He clenched his teeth behind his lips, eyes boring into the screen with an intensity that you would've returned, had you been there with him. He bit at his lower lip, chewing on it anxiously as he continued to scan every pixel like it would reveal something if he stared long enough.

All he got was the last text he sent to you staring right back up at him.

'fucking stuck up bitch'

His fingers hovered over the screen, twitching with the effort of not sending you another message. Or two. Or ten.

So you weren't even gonna deny it?

Weren't gonna say that you wanted him to put down the drugs because you 'cared for his health'?

That you were sorry? That you were a fucking idiot for walking away from the two of you and that you were driving home right now waiting to greet him with a kiss and a hug and an apology for even fathoming the possibility of leaving him when you knew he just needed some time and support and some fucking understanding to get the money back?

A mental image of MG Coin's face drifted to the forefront of his mind. Nam-gyu's jaw tightened. If the universe gave him the opportunity to, he swore to beat the living shit out of him for ruining his life.

He peeled off his phone case suddenly, pulling out the card he'd been given the other day. A man in a suit had found him slumped pathetically against a wall, high as a kite and stumbling around like a toddler. Nam-gyu had gotten lost on the (very, very short) way to his car after work.

Without you there, there was no one to yell at him for trying to drive high. No one checking his location and peeking over his shoulder to make sure he was safe. No one waiting after his shift to buckle him into the passenger seat before driving him quietly home. No calls. No texts. No love. No life.

He ran a finger over the smooth paper, turning it over in his shaky hands. He didn't even get to tell you about this. He's sure you would've told him not to go, that it was a scam. But maybe he would've been able to convince you to come with him after he showed you the money he'd won from ddakji. He wouldn't have told you about the slapping, though, or how quickly any fragment of shame or pride evaporated from his mind the second he was presented with the chance of winning any amount of cash.

Maybe he would've even been able to convince you to stay. To wait for him. To give him a chance to fix things.

He scoffed at the thought, but it came out sounding more like a sob. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he swallowed around it, his head spinning with emotions that he didn't want to acknowledge or admit to himself. So sad. So desperate. So pathetic.

He envisioned you on the other side of the screen, hands hovering over the keys with something similar swirling in your heart. Any minute now. You'd drop the act. You would, because he knew you, and you loved him. You wouldn't do this to him.

Exhale. Inhale. Clench. Unclench.

He held his breath, hands shaking as the phone screen dimmed.

Nothing. He was alone.

He shoved the card back into his case before popping it back on his phone, his lower lip aching as he bit into it.

To his left, a coworker stumbled over to him. He leaned down, slinging an arm lazily over Nam-gyu's shoulder.

"Man, what are you doing over here, sitting all alone in this dark corner? The guys have been looking for you all night!" he said, a smile in his eyes and the heavy scent of alcohol on his breath. He rubbed Nam-gyu's shoulder playfully and pushed closer into his personal space, loopy and uncoordinated as the music thumped around them. "Hey, you brought the drugs right?"

Nam-gyu grunted but didn't look up, barely even registering the man badgering him.

He stilled for a moment at the dismissal. It was out of character for Nam-gyu, known by his coworkers for his intense enthusiasm over any chance to do drugs and suck up to celebrities that visited their club. He grew impatient, tightening the grip on his shoulder and shaking him back and forth, as if to knock him out of a trance. "Hey. Nam-gyu. If you're gonna bum around on your phone on the clock, the least you could do is just give us the fucking drugs. We have guests to entertain, remember?" He cocked his head towards the side room he'd stumbled out of.

Nam-gyu moved his head to look up at him slowly, eyes not leaving his phone screen until the last second. A pause. He gave the man a strained smile. "Yes. You're right." His lips were tight as he spoke, his hands practically shaking with the effort of not shattering his phone on the ground in front of him.

When he still didn't move from his seat, the man raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak again, annoyance written clearly across his face at his timid demeanor. Suddenly, Nam-gyu shot up, phone still held tightly in his hand as he shrugged the guy's hand off his shoulder, now in a rush as he pushed past him.

"C'mon, hurry up! I got some new shit this time, and I'm gonna try all of it," he yelled over his shoulder, a smile in his voice despite the sickening feeling building inside him higher and higher with every passing second. He wanted to break something.

The guy caught up with him quickly, slinging a shoulder around him once again, loose and loopy and cheerful once again with a wide grin on his face now that he was finally going to get some drugs in his system.

"Ayyy, there's our Nam-gyu!" He rubbed at his shoulders roughly, practically shoving him into the side room with all of the guests. "I like you a lot more when you're like this."

Nam-gyu smiled, a lighthearted laugh ripping its way out of him, mirthless and filled with a desperation that only you could fill.

However, you weren't here, so instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper bag filled with a variety of substances to poison his body with. It hit the table in front of all the club's VIP guests for the night with a thump.

The scene that followed was akin to dropping a piece of meat into a pirannha tank.

Nam-gyu grinned despite the way his heart hammered and hammered beneath his ribs. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking as he politely waited for his turn with the bag. In a few minutes, the thoughts in his head would calm, and he'd be back on top of things.

There was nothing to worry about. After all, he was going to win enough money to pay off his debt and win you back in one fell swoop.

The card burned a hole in his pocket. Just one more high, one more night of fun, and he would call the number on the back. He was going to fix everything.

Once everyone had ravaged through the bag, Nam-gyu reached forward, wasting no time in filling his hand with a few multicolored pills.

You weren't here to help him right now, but the drugs definitely were.

It was just gonna have to be enough for now.

That night, you dreamed of Nam-gyu in spite of yourself.

It was foggy and blurred. A dream mixed with scattered bits and pieces of the memories the two of you shared in the time you'd been together.

You laid in bed with his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you as if he was afraid you'd slip away. His chest was warm against your back, each rise and fall filling you with a sense of comfort. The calm, steady movement reminded you with every gentle breath that he was alive, safe, and within your reach. The bed was just barely big enough for the two of you. The curtains old. The walls yellowed. And yet, you couldn't think of any other place you'd rather be.

He whispered something sweet into your hair, his voice quiet and low, soft in a way that he'd only reveal when you two were alone. It was the same tone he'd take on shortly after choking out another shitty apology following one of your many heated arguments together. It was cute. You wished he'd use it more.

You mumbled something back to him, pushing yourself closer to his body heat. You turned slightly to bury your face in the fabric of his sleeve. He smelled of cheap cologne, soap, and most comfortingly: home. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

A few beats of silence passed with the two of you lying there peacefully before his hand drifted slowly to your chest. You exhaled sharply through your nose, feigning annoyance despite the way your lips twitched into a smirk in the dim light. You placed a sleepy hand over his, caressing his skin as he lazily cupped you through your shirt. You traced over his veins and the cool metal of his ring. He mumbled something unintelligible as sleep creeped in on him. You turned your head to look up at him, your eyes locking with a warm familiarity.

It was nice when it was like this. No arguments. No struggles. Just the two of you slotted together in comfortable silence. For a moment in time, the whole world shrunk down in size. It was just you, Nam-gyu, and the four dingy walls of the shared apartment you called home.

You breathed three words into the stillness. He paused, taking a moment to process it before he was pulling you closer. He pushed his face into the back of your neck and muttered the words back to you, his voice gentle and soft and devoid of any hard edges. It was quiet, barely above a whisper and muffled by your hair, but you knew what he said, and that was enough.

You let the dream pull itself over you like a warm blanket, the two of you drifting lazily through time.

The next morning, you woke up early, slinking out of your friend's apartment with a rushed apology that you typed with shaky thumbs. You were already stumbling out of your cab and onto the street of your apartment complex when you sent it. You practically flew up the stairs, your feet barely touching the ground as you hastily shoved your phone into your back pocket.

Your friend would definitely hate you for this later, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

You fumbled for your keys, finally pushing through the door after what seemed like an eternity. Passing over the threshold felt so good. You could finally breathe again.

"Nam-gyu?" you said. There was no hesitation in your voice. You wanted to see him. Needed to see him.

He was probably still sleeping. You shrugged the small bag containing the few clothes and belongings you'd brought to your friend's house off of your shoulder. It fell to the floor in a gentle heap as you shut the door quietly behind you.

"Nam-gyu?" you said again. You panicked a little, hoping he had gotten home from work okay last night.

Lucky for you, there wasn't much room to search. You pushed into the bedroom, anxiety soaring at its emptiness.

"Nam-gyu!" you were yelling now, as if there was still any chance that he was here somehow. You cursed under your breath, fumbling for the phone in your back pocket.

You guiltily ignored the angry, concerned texts pouring in from your friend and clicked into you and Nam-gyu's text conversation. You sent him a text, and after receiving no reply, quickly punched in Club Pentagon's phone number and let it ring.

Your eyes searched the room frantically for any sign of where he'd gone, your gaze instantly zeroing in on the small card placed perfectly in the center of your night stand. On it was a message in handwriting that you could immediately recognize as Nam-gyu's (specifically when he was high).

You picked it up and cursed under your breath as you turned it over in your hands, inspecting the mysterious number written on the back. Then, as if to punctuate the panic gradually building beneath your skin, the phone call went to voice mail.

'Fixing things. Wait for me <3'

---

namgyunation @ tumblr; pls don't repost! ao3 link (the most updated version will be on here once i get to fixing typos)

more a/n: i have sooo many thoughts about how i hc pre-game nam-gyu's life to be like. prob gonna write more to fill out the little nam-gyu-verse in my head <3 also depending on how nam-gyu fares in s3, i'll write a fic where the reader has a tearful reunion with him OR she ends up waiting for him forever and everrrrrr ^_^ also nobody gaf, but the beginning of this tiktok is what i was thinking when i was describing nam-gyu's 'soft' tone when reader was dreaming

i really love it when nam-gyu is written as the pathetic, clingy loser that he is <3 i hope someone out there enjoys it too

[secret-tacos]

introducing a new, exciting, BRUTAL event. prompt descriptions under the read more!

3/9: Ritual slaughter. Selflessness. Destroying something or somebody dear for the sake of something greater. Walk into firelight and give it all tonight. Oh the keeper wields his scythe, oh you gotta kiss this life goodbye. (sacrifice, emotional or physical)

3/10: Kill for the thrill. Chop into pieces, stuff in garbage bag, dump garbage bag in river. The river is quiet and will keep all your secrets. Warp the body and soul into eldritch abominations beyond comprehension. Make a mess dripping crimson and bone, break your face with a stale ice cream cone. (murder & body horror)

3/11: Beg for your life. You won’t escape the knife. Death is a forgone conclusion and you’re nothing but a heart still beating inside a lifeless shell. You spoke the words and brandished your heart, you left yourself to be torn apart. (torture, emotional or physical) 3/12: Dead hearts trapped between the planes of reality. Baleful yellow-eyed beasts with slavering maws full of razor-sharp teeth. Cackling on a stormy night. Everything that goes bump in the night. We conjured witches, banshees screaming. Ate all your food, summoned demons. (paranormal) 3/13: Carelessness leading to mass casualties. Wanton destruction. Countless little things writhing and burning and dying. Barbecued bone fragments, bloodied face, blistered skin. (chaos, mistakes, bad ending) 3/14: It took all your energy to withstand it, this urge to ravage. There’s blood caked under your nails and in the lines of your face and gristle stuck between your teeth. And you want more. I will bathe my body in a pool of blood. I will drink the liquid and be reborn! (good old fashioned cannibalism fun) 3/15: Keep the party goin'! Keep the party goin'! Acid-fueled escapades lead to being pursued in the woods by a faceless stranger who only exists to steal your life away. You’re so high that you don’t realize it’s not a YouTube video until your head goes flying. (drugs, frienderbenders, horror/slasher movies)

Feel free to tag your stuff as #7daysofbrutality or #mtl7dob! I'd love to see!

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[heartbreak-hotel-35]

First of Many

Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

My whole life had changed when I found out my boyfriend cheated. After the whole ordeal, I ran to the only person I knew would listen to me, my best friend Elvis Presley. Sure, he was busy with the Comeback Special being filmed. But I needed to talk to him… As soon as possible.

Warnings: relationship issues, cheating, abuse, angst

A/N: This story is pretty angsty in the beginning, but it fluffs up nicely at the end don’t worry!! Also, this one is not historically accurate cause during his filming of the Special, he stayed at a hotel in Hawaii when he wasn’t on set… but my story doesn’t allow for that so please don’t come at me😭

60s Elvis / Comeback Special Elvis

• •—•• •••— •• •••

The sound of his door slamming was still rattling around in my brain. Tear stains from hours of crying had been washed away with a fresh wave of tears as I ripped photos from my wall and shattered various frames, hoping it would erase any existing memory of him. I should’ve known. I felt so stupid for believing he was truly loyal. I yanked the necklace from my neck, snapping the cheap chain and tossing it no where in particular.

Then I collapsed. My heart was pounding out of my chest. My lungs were weak with every breath I took. My stomach felt empty and shriveled, making me feel ill. My eyes were burning and dry, fresh out of broken tears. I opened my mouth, gasping and heaving for air in a silent cry. I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my back against the arm of my couch.

All was silent. An hour had passed since my rampage and I was sat there staring at the mess I made. All for a lousy, cheating man. I rubbed my nose, moving to stand up on trembling legs and blistered feet, which had occurred after running all the way back to my apartment from his.

“It was never going to be you.”

Those filthy words echoed in my soul as I swept up the glass and shredded photos, dumping it into an old cloth before throwing it into the garbage can. How I wish I could tear that memory from my head. Maybe put it onto the cloth with the rest of the mess and ball it up. Then throw it away to be forgotten.

Once I’d finished, I dragged myself to the bathroom, looking in the mirror and flinching at the sight of my reflection. There was a now reddened bruise forming along my cheek. Right where he’d slapped me before screaming at me to go. Saying it was my fault he had cheated. That I’d brought it upon myself. I touched it gingerly, relieved that it wasn’t as sore as it looked to be.

I moved to the shower, turning on the hot water then pulling my dress over my head. Then, with a deep breath, I stepped into the steaming water, rinsing the sweat and tears from my body. I could taste the salt on my lips. As I cleaned up, I began to hum a song. One I had grown very fond of after my dear friend, Elvis Presley had suggested it to me in one of his letters from over seas. Night Train to Memphis by Roy Acuff.

“I think you’d love it.”

With my eyes shut tight, remembering his writing, I smiled. First time I’d felt that in about a month. After one more rinse, I finished, turning off the water and covering myself with my white bathrobe. As I was drying my hair, I heard the mail slot shut with a quiet ‘tink’. I placed the towel I was using on the counter, walking to the door and picking up the mail that had been dropped off.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw Elvis’ signature purple envelope, adorned with a little teddy bear postage stamp. I bit the tip of my tongue, happier than I’d ever been to see one of his letters. I dropped the other envelopes and carefully tore his open, pulling the letter out and reading over it.

My dearest Satnin,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m doing wonderful. However, the movie business doesn’t seem to be too fond of Presley films anymore. So Colonel’s been talking about doing some family Christmas special. We are supposed to began shooting most likely by the time you are reading this. We’re gonna be here at NBC Studios in California which is very exciting. Hope you’re doing well.

Yours,

Elvis Presley

A tear fell on the paper before I knew it had fallen from my eye. I held the letter to my chest, hoping to absorb the love he’d poured into it. Love I so desperately needed. I looked over at the phone on the kitchen counter and chewed my thumb nail anxiously. Before I had any conscious thought, I was standing in front of it, flipping through my big yellow phone book in search of NBC Studios.

I found it quicker than I thought and I took it as a sign that I was meant to call him. I dialed the number as quickly as the little peach colored rotary phone would allow. Then I waited, listening to the dial tone.

“NBC Studios.” A man said.

“Hi,” my voice cracked. It was the first word I’d said in over nine hours. “I’m looking to speak to Elvis Presley? I’m an old friend of his.” There was a scoff on the other end.

“Yeah, you and the rest of the world, girl.” He replied with a snarky tone of voice. I felt my head jerk in disgust.

“Well, if you won’t let me speak to him, would you at least tell him Satnin called? He’ll know who it is.” I told him, my throat burning. There was a pause.

“You said, Satnin, ma’am?” The man asked, followed by the sound of shuffling papers. I nodded my head, though I knew he couldn’t see.

“Yes sir, that’s right.” I said simply. More shuffling. Then there was a dial tone. My eyes welled up with tears again, thinking the man hung up. Just as I was about to put the phone back on the receiver, there was another voice.

“Hello?” It had that familiar southern twang. One that was unmistakably Elvis.

“Elvis?” I asked breathily, laying my free hand over my robed chest.

“Satnin?” He said, his tone growing excited. “Oh I’m so glad you got my letter.”

“Of course, Elvis. I wouldn’t miss ‘em.” I said with a small laugh. “I’m just glad they patched me through, the man almost didn’t believe me.” I heard him chuckle, a sound that never failed to lift my spirits.

“Well that man wouldn’t have a job if I found out he didn’t let you through. ‘S why I told him to keep an ear out for Satnin.” He told me.

“I do appreciate that, EP.” I said simply. He exhaled, one of relief, making my own body relax.

“You alright, Satnin? Your voice sounds a bit scratchy.” Elvis asked. I froze. Did I want to tell him over the phone? Should I wait to see him? “Satnin?” His words pulled me back to my sickening reality.

“H-he cheated on me.” I choked. Elvis was quiet. “He said it was never going to be me.” The tears started again, pouring silently down my cheeks. “He hit me, Elvis.” I cried. My voice broke and my breathing became ragged again. Elvis still hadn’t said a word.

“He hit you?” He finally said, his tone short and dark. But I could only cry. I wasn’t able to form words. I was relieved to be talking to him, but afraid of what he would do. “Satnin, I need you to come out here. If Colonel was a generous man he’d let me come to you but he isn’t. You need to come out here. Your car still in good shape?”

“Y-yes.” I wheezed, attempting to catch my breath.

“‘S good, Honey. Now if I’m thinkin’ correctly, you’re only about two and a half hours from me. Can you make that drive?” He asked, the worry in his words giving me a peace that made no sense.

“I can.” I replied simply.

“If you can’t, Honey, I can send a driver out for you.” He offered.

“N-no, Elvis. I can make it.” I told him.

“When can you leave?” He asked. There was another voice, a man calling for Elvis to come over. Something about a rehearsal.

“I can leave now. I’ll just get a few things together.” I said, looking around my still messy apartment.

“Good, good. That’s my girl.” He cooed. “That puts you here about seven. I’ll be wrapping up here around that time so I’ll meet you at the gate of the studio’s campus okay?”

“Okay.” I said, sniffling a bit.

“Satnin?” He said softly. “I’m so sorry. I truly am.” Another tear rolled down my cheek.

“‘S okay, Elvis. I’d been meaning to break it off.” I said truthfully.

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t happen this way. You don’t deserve that.” He told me lovingly. I smirked.

“Thank you.” I answered weakly.

“Now come on, Honey. Get on over here.” His tone had changed to one of excitement, drawing a soft giggle from me.

“Okay okay, I’ll see you in about two and a half hours, Honey.” I said happily.

“Drive carefully, Satnin.” Elvis said.

“I will. Goodbye.” I said, a sadness growing in my heart as I took the phone away from my ear. I never liked parting ways with Elvis. It was never an easy task. But nonetheless, it happened. I was ready to go see him. I hadn’t seen him physically in nearly two years. After the phone was back on the receiver, I moved to my room, grabbing a small bag and packing it full of various clothes and toiletries. Once the bag was zipped, I grabbed my keys from my bedside table and left the disaster I called home.

—time skip—

The gates were stunning. They looked shiny and new. I felt a pull toward them and yet it felt like I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here. I sat there, staring, listening to the sound of passing traffic and my heart thumping in my chest. I looked over at the clock on my dash, sucking in a nervous breath at the numbers. 7:01. My gaze travelled back to the gates, looking around for him.

“Come on, EP.” I whispered to myself. I could feel the excitement of seeing him overshadowing the events of the last forty-eight hours. Though, they were not fully dissipated. Suddenly, as though my soul knew he was near, I looked over and saw him there. Hand held over his eyes to block the setting sunlight. Tanned skin clad with a light blue button down tucked into dark blue jeans. I jumped out of my car without realizing I’d even opened the door.

“Elvis!” I called, bouncing excitedly and waving my hand in the air. I saw his head turn and then a smile, brighter than any of the surrounding neon, appear on his features. He checked for oncoming traffic before jogging across the street to meet me.

“Satnin!” He said breathily, landing only a few feet from me.

“Hi.” I said with a small giggle. Then he hugged me, his figure swallowing me whole. He smelled amazing, just as he always had. He was warm and inviting. He felt… safe. I squeezed him tightly before pulling away and looking up at him.

“How are you, Honey? Drive go okay?” He asked, brushing some fallen hair from my face. I nodded.

“I’m okay. Yes, th-the drive went just fine.” I told him, turning my cheek from him, not wanting the bruise to be too obvious.

“Whoa.” He said, his hand moving to my chin. “Don’t pull away. Just let me see.” I placed my hands on his chest, stamping my foot dramatically.

“I hate that you know me so well.” I teased. He turned my head, squinting as he observed the day old wound.

“Comes in handy sometimes though.” He answered, his tone serious as he inspected. He looked only a moment longer before pressing a feather light kiss to it.

“‘M so sorry, Satnin. I should’ve been there.” He said, his thumbs brushing the outsides of my arms. I shook my head.

“You didn’t need to be. What’s important is that you’re here now. That’s all I need.” I reassured. His eyes sparkled at my words, a smile tugging at those beautiful lips of his. Elvis pulled me into another hug, this time more sensual and heartfelt. I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head before backing up and taking my hands in his.

“Hungry?” He asked. I nodded frantically.

“Starving.” I replied. He chuckled and turned to face the way I had been.

“Good. Binder told me about a place not far from here.” He said, beginning to walk along the sidewalk, keeping my hand in his.

“Lead the way.” I said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. We walked along, talking about his time in Hollywood. His favorite movies to make and my favorites to watch. We recalled the time I was able to hang around the set of Jailhouse Rock as they were filming it. Which led into more stories of other movies. I told him how proud I was of him. He told me how much he missed me. I returned the statement.

We made it to dinner and shared more thoughts and memories. We talked about the special and how Binder was helping him to feel like himself again.

“Having you here is gonna help a lot too, Satnin.” Elvis told me, putting his fork on his empty plate. I looked up at him through my lashes, running my fingers along the cool stem of my wine glass.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, lifting the glass to take a sip.

“Because you’ve been with me through it all. The beginning, the middle, the army, the Hollywood star. All of it, Satnin. Even if you weren’t physically there. You were there. And I could feel it.” He shared sweetly. His words sent a chill down my spine. I had been with him through everything. Every phase of his career.

“That’s awful nice of you to say.” I told him, unable to think of anything better. He stared at me softly, making it nearly impossible to meet his eye. “Stop it.” I said, kicking the tip of his shoe underneath the table.

“Stop what?” He inquired, leaning forward on the table and returning the playful kick.

“Staring at me like that.” I stated, kicking him again. He quirked a brow.

“Like what?” He asked, tapping the top of my foot with his. I pointed to his face.

“Like that.” I said, stifling a laugh. He smirked and I felt his foot rest on top of mine.

“Why?” He said simply.

“Makes me think you’re plotting.” I replied honestly, now holding his gaze completely. He shrugged.

“And if I am?” He asked. Just as I was about to answer, our waiter came back with the bill. Elvis took it and thanked the man, signing the receipt before standing and moving to my left side. “Shall we?” He held out his hand for me to take. I slid my chair back and took it, standing up and following him out of the restaurant.

“Where are you staying?” I asked him, looking around at the city lights.

“Some hotel on the corner over by the studio.” He answered, pointing in the direction of the hotel.

“Okay, will you help me find a room?” I asked, leaning into him to avoid a street light. He put his arm around me, holding the proximity I’d unintentionally created.

“Of course, Satnin.” He said. We walked a ways more in comfortable silence. I put my arm around his lower back, soaking in the warmth radiating from him. “You ever been on the beach in the dark?” Elvis suddenly asked. I looked up at him with a concerned look.

“No?” It came out as a question.

“Do you want to?” He said, coming to a stop now.

“Don’t you have to be up super early?” I questioned. He was quick to wave me off though.

“Ah I don’t care about that. I’ve got you here and I wanna have some fun.” He said excitedly. In that moment, he looked about twenty again, telling me about his first few stage performances. The same little glint in his eye.

“Okay let’s do it.” I said happily. He smiled and pulled me along behind him as we crossed the street and practically jogged to his personal car. We hopped in, giggling and chatting like high schoolers again, doing something we weren’t supposed to. We drove along, humming with the radio and looking around at the buildings. Then the shoreline appeared in the dark, the ocean even darker than the sky above it.

He pulled into a spot just off of the sand and turned the car off, kicking his shoes into the floorboard and walking over to open my door. I took my shoes off too and hopped out, taking in the warm night breeze.

“Come on.” Elvis said softly, taking my hand in his again and walking out onto the beach. The sand was near freezing under my bare feet, but the warmth of the wind countered it. “Ain’t it pretty?”

“From what I can see.” I said playfully, moving to stand next to him. We stood there listening to the waves crashing against the shore. I took a deep breath and as I exhaled, all my worry and anger toward my ex floated away on the breeze, falling away deep into the ocean. I unknowingly let out a giggle, causing Elvis to look down at me.

“What?” He asked, chuckling in return.

“I just,” I started. “I feel great. Like, everything is gonna be fine, ya know?” I was facing him now, admiring his moonlit features. He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“I do know. I’m glad, Satnin.” Elvis held me, half way to his chest, staring down at me. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” I replied, inching into him ever so slightly. Suddenly the air around us seemed heavier. The surrounding noises grew muffled. Time seemed to slow. Elvis hands interlocked on my lower back and my palms pressed flat against his chest. Normally, I would be strongly against being this close to another man after a break up. But for some reason, it felt like this was meant to happen years ago. Like this moment had occurred time and time again, but just never truly unfolded. Nothing about it felt… wrong.

Without a second thought, our lips met in a short and tender kiss, as though sealing our relationship forever. We pulled back, staring at each other then we burst into a fit of laughter, never once leaving each other’s embrace.

“First of many, Satnin?” He asked, pressing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes.

“Absolutely.” I replied confidently. He touched his nose to mine and we stood in silence for a moment more. Then he spoke again.

“Race you to the water!” He ran from me, booking it toward the ocean.

“Oh you are such a child!” I called back, chasing after him. Even though I’ve known him for decades, this felt like a brand new beginning.

[joelsicle]

A secret third thing

Marcus Pike x f!reader

Summary: your friend Marcus starts seeing someone and you won’t let that shit fly

Warnings: 18+, reader is annoying, like really fucking annoying, borderline unlikeable, not lovers, not friends, weird dynamics, oral (m and f receiving), marcus still gets the marcus pike treatment (sorry), patrick jane cameo, no reader description, no use of y/n, not betaed or whatever that’s called

WC: 4.2k words

A/N: this is really just self-gratuitous and self-indulgent. i doubt there’s a big market for this but yeah. heavy on the annoying reader warning. also, i had to make a fucking edit bc the children yearn for fic trailers lmao. read this, or don’t, i’m not the boss of you, have a nice day. oh yeah, the girls in the edit are just what i had in mind but there’s no descriptors in the text other than reader being afab and able-bodied

AO3

“This is exactly what I was talking about, Marcus! You can’t make a decent pot of rice at your grown age!” You giggle, and Marcus shrinks into his own body.

“I tried, okay? I really did! I just… got caught up on this game I downloaded on my phone and it just slipped my mind…” He does that little pouty thing he does, and his eyes crinkle around the corners.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to break out into laughter. “It’s a wonder you solve any crimes.”

“Not fair!” He says, wagging a finger at you. “Rice making skills do not translate to art crimes. So, boom.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

“Was… was that meant to be like a ‘gotcha’?” You ask him, dumping the burned rice in the garbage can.

Marcus crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. A sheet of silence falls over the both of you for a second. You can hear his fingers tapping on the cold surface of the countertop.

“Anyways, my grand… gesture is now toast,” he glances at the trash can. “But I have something important to tell you.”

You stop your scanning of the fridge to look back at him. He’s chewing his lip, and the tapping hasn’t stopped. “Oh, come on, since when do you get nervous?”

He swallows and you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I’m-I’m sort of… seeing someone.”

The tapping stops and he knits his brows together as he waits for you to respond. His eyes scan you, and he almost looks like a kicked puppy.

“That was it?” You scoff. “You were nervous to tell me that?” You chuckle, but it doesn’t quite make it to your eyes.

Marcus tilts his head twice. “I mean,” he clears his throat. “I thought that… it was the right thing to do, you know?” He gestures languidly between you and him. “I know it’s not, a thing, but… you know?”

You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, hard. “No, yeah, I get it… so… who’s the lucky lady?” You turn back to the fridge. “And does leftover Thai sound good?”

He keeps quiet for a beat longer than feels comfortable. “This lovely woman from work. She was working in the last case I worked. She’s from the CBI. Homicides and… such.” You can hear his soft steps coming over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder. “Leftover Thai is always a go for me, but I’m not… Please just talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say, Marcus? I’m happy for you,” you quip, already taking the containers from the Thai restaurant out of the fridge. “Did you want me to throw a tantrum or something?” The containers make a small thud sound as you place them on the counter. Begrudgingly, you raise your gaze at him. He meets it with a wince, and a deep frown.

“A- a tantrum?” It’s punctuated with his head shaking. “No. I just… Our situation is weird, I just want to make sure you’re okay with it.” He tilts his head and his eyes are glittery.

You shake your head, “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not your mom. I can’t tell you what to do or who to do.”

Marcus’s jaw tightens, his face the same sad-stoic look. “You’re being real immature about this, and you know it. Would you mind talking to me for once?”

“Maybe you do want me to be upset about it. Is that it? My reaction not good enough for you?” You snap, feeling your voice rise gradually.

He sighs, running his hands down his face exasperatedly. “Fine. Have it your way.” He sticks his fork into his soggy pad thai leftovers. You feel yourself shooting daggers at him with your eyes as he chews, loudly.

“Fine, fuck you. Is she hot?” You ask, accompanied with a weird quirk at the corner of your mouth. It’s like you can see as the words hit his ears, his eyes squinting ever so slightly before looking up at you. He turns his hand with the fork in it, an unspoken what the fuck?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Like, like I’m a weirdo.” You roll your eyes. “You wouldn’t look at me like that if I was a guy asking that.”

Marcus chews another two times and you can see his throat bob as he swallows his food before licking his lips contemplatively and pressing his lips together tightly, his brows furrow and his little dimple makes an appearance. “Have you met me? When have I ever said something like that?”

You feel a distinct heat creep up the back of your neck. “Did you guys do it already?” Your face scrunches up.

“Do it? What are you, twelve?” He wants to laugh. You know it, you can tell.

You pull his bowl closer to you, away from his reach. “Marcus. You’re not answering my question. So that means she’s super hot, then, huh?”

He glares at you from under his brows and scoots his bowl back to himself. “No matter what I answer it’s gonna bother you, so, uh, I think I’ll pass.”

“Boring. You’re so fuckin’ boring. And for the record, you can’t pass when you’re the one who brought it up in the first place,” you stretch your arm to pick a forkful off his bowl, making a show of it.

His lips flex into a lopsided smile. There it is. “I’ve spent the last 10 minutes wondering what the easiest way to travel back in time is so I can just not bring it up. You’re a pain in the ass. Seriously.”

“Yeah, well, Special Agent Pike, nobody’s forcing you to be my friend,” you make a mocking sound.

Marcus looks serious. “Suppose not.” He stands and picks up both your plates, placing them in the sink with a little clink sound, turning on the faucet before inhaling deeply, looking at the water for a second. His arm twitches a little. “But it feels like you’ve got me in some sort of Stockholm syndrome situation,” he looks at you with a hint of amusement.

“Maybe I should just keep you here forever, then,” you offer, smiling exaggeratedly.

The room is filled with the sounds of water sloshing and the sponge rubbing against the dishes. “If you lock me up here, then who’s gonna solve all the art crimes in this city?”

You shrug once more. “You’ve got a whole unit, don’t you?”

Wiping his hands on his pants, he turns back to you, grinning. “You’re crazy. Batshit crazy. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Well, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you like it.”

Hesitation flashes through his face as he opens his mouth then closes it once more. Then after a second, opens it again. “I,” he taps the tip of your nose, “should be going home.”

“See? One more boring tally for the boring score I’m totally keeping.” You’re pouting, and you know it.

“I promise I’ll see you again soon.” He brings you closer by putting his hand on the back of your neck and pulling you closer to kiss your forehead. “Will you survive?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Maybe I’ll have one of those paintings stolen so you can come see me.” You point at the cheap canvases on your wall.

His plush lips purse, stifling a laugh. “Art crimes don’t really deal with IKEA paintings, sorry to break it to you.”

“Kind of a shitty division, then,” you mumble.

“I’ll miss you, too.” He says, already at the doorway.

Sprawled on your bed, counting the number of squares on your duvet, you listen as Marcus complains about something or other, he tends to get pretty technical and plus, you’re not even sure if he’s allowed to tell you all he tells you whenever he vents about work. Yeah, but, you’re you is always his excuse.

“I thought you’d already gotten that case closed.” You say, absent-mindedly.

“Yeah, but this consultant guy that works with Teresa, he… he swears we got the wrong guy, all based on what, a five-minute conversation?” He sounds annoyed.

“Teresa… that’s your girl?” You ask, switching your focus to picking on a hangnail.

“Yes-I mean, shit, you’re focusing on the wrong thing. That’s all you could glean from what I said?” Scratch annoyed, he’s angry. He very rarely does get angry. You remember his divorce, and despite the messiness and ugliness of it all, he was mostly sad and dejected; never angry. Which was funny because you felt like insulting his ex-wife every time he mentioned they were going to meet.

“S-sorry.” Is all you grumble into the phone. “That guy sounds like a real jerk.”

You can almost hear his nostrils flaring. “He is. But everyone raves about how smart he is and, and I can’t compete with that.” It’s all like word vomit coming from his mouth. “I mean, he’s like a psychic or something. Well, he says psychics don’t exist, but you get what I’m saying.”

A small snort leaves you. “You’re getting all worked up over Zoltar?”

“Why do I even bother calling you again?” He sighs.

“‘Cause you don’t have any other friends?”

Crickets.

“And ‘cause you love me?” You ask, raising your hands in defeat even though he can’t see you.

“Something like that.” He says flatly.

You hum a little before speaking again. “Are we still on for trivia on Thursday? Or do you have a hot date with your little girlfriend?”

“No, yeah, still on.” He mumbles, you can hear him scratching his head.

“Sorry about that thing at your job. But, you’re like, the best agent ever so, it’ll be fine.” You say, lowering your voice.

“Thanks, angel. I’ll call you again soon, alright? Bye.”

Click. Silence.

Motherfucker.

You crack your knuckles and pull your laptop to your bed. It’s time to do a little homework. You open up Facebook. She’s a cop, it’s unlikely she’ll be on something cooler, right? You pull up Marcus’s profile and go through his friends list. Tabitha, Tanya, Tatiana. Jesus, fuck, how many women does he know? Teresa Lisbon. Bingo.

It’s all innocent perusal, just for you to know your friend is in the right hands. Besides, her profile is basically empty except for just like, two pictures. Go figure, an agent would just not post shit at all. Okay, so Google it is then. Teresa Lisbon psychic, you type.

A plethora of interviews from this guy named Patrick Jane. This must be the guy Marcus was talking about. You chew in your bottom lip while you scroll and watch a few of his videos. Jeez, this is kinda grim. You wince, reading about him. You slam your laptop shut.

After a ridiculously long cab ride, you’re finally outside the building. Security is familiar with you, you come to see Marcus fairly often, so you’re handed your visitor badge and sent on your way to his floor. You stand there for a solid ten minutes before one of his coworkers recognizes you, says hi and very kindly informs you Marcus is on the CBI’s floor. You thank the lady and are on your way. When the elevator door opens, you walk in through a small hall, seeing Marcus with Teresa, and out of the corner of your eye, Patrick Jane sipping tea on a couch in the corner, next to a big table. You stride towards him, trying to hold a polite smile as you approach them.

You cover Marcus’s eyes, “Guess who?”

Teresa shares a weirded out look with Patrick. “Excuse me?” She asks, puzzled. Marcus pries your hands off his face and turns to look at you. “Hey, hey? What-what are you doing here?”

You tilt your head, mouth slightly agape. He forgot.

It suddenly dawns on him. “Oh, shit. It’s Thursday?”

“Anyone wanna fill me in?” Teresa interrupts.

Jane peels himself off the couch, striding towards you all, enjoyment etched into his whole expression. “Yeah, well, safe to say Marcus here had other plans with his lady friend,” he turns specifically to you, “Patrick Jane, by the way; and he forgot all about it.” His voice is smooth and dripping with amusement. Your gaze stays on him for a second longer than necessary.

Marcus introduces you to both of them, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I… I’m not gonna be able to make it to trivia tonight. I have a dinner reservation. It’s cool, right?”

It takes every bone in your body not to roll your eyes.

“If you already had plans, it’s okay-“ Lisbon says, looking apologetically at you.

Marcus shakes his head. “We do this every week, it’s fine,” he beams at Teresa. Patrick cocks an eyebrow, his cocky smile not faltering for a second.

“Yep. No worries.” You feel your nails digging into your palm at your side.

“Let me pay for your cab, it’s the least I can do.” Marcus offers, pulling out his wallet.

You take the money, crumpling it into your hand. “Nice to meet you.” You shoot a half-grin at both Teresa and Patrick and turn on your heel. Behind you, you can hear them bickering.

It took Marcus two days of consistent calling and sending a bouquet of flowers to your place for you to respond after that. The flowers had a note on them that read ‘I’m sorry. Pick up my calls?’

He calls once more. You pick up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Figured the flowers would do the trick.” He chuckles.

You repeat his words back at him with a mocking voice. “I’m still really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, the full cold shoulder kinda gave that away,” he crooned. “I already said I’m sorry like a gazillion times.”

Heat begins to invade your ears. “Didn’t you consider that maybe that isn’t enough?”

“Come on, all this over trivia?” His tone is incredulous.

“It’s not about the trivia, stupid. You never, ever forget our plans,” you say, doing your best for your voice not to sound small.

He swallows, the sound faintly coming across the line. “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already,” you huff.

You both go silent for a few seconds that end up feeling eternal before he speaks up, inhaling sharply before, as if bracing himself. “Come on, baby. You gotta throw me a bone here or something. I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“Whatever, fuck you. I’m sure your Patrick is in love with Teresa. I mean, that’s the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, he just really, really hates you.”

Marcus lets out a breathy and humorless chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You feel your scowl forming.

“Teresa mentioned that Jane told her the exact same thing about you.” He’s trying to make it sound funny, but it’s hard to believe that either you or him are actually buying it.

“She’s not gonna take things seriously with you, you do realize that, right?” It comes out just a bit meaner than intended.

Marcus drops his head on his free hand. “I don’t understand why you always have to be like this.”

“And how is that?”

“Just… like that.” You have that sinking feeling again, he’s angry. And this time, he’s angry with you.

“Well, excuse me for being fuckin’ honest with you, dude. And by the way, I’ll remember this when you show up to my fuckin’ doorstep looking like a sad, sick, fucked up kitten when she inevitably dumps you.” You want to wait to hear his response, but this might have struck a nerve so you hang up before he gets the chance.

This is the longest time you’ve spent without speaking or seeing Marcus. And it sucks. Not that he’d ever find out just how lonely your life is whenever he isn’t around. It’s been at least a few days since you last left your apartment. He can be so infuriating sometimes, letting someone who clearly isn’t as into him as he is into her come between your friendship. It had happened before, but for some reason this time it had been deeper than the latest ones. His eagerness to get into super committed relationships was a real mystery to you. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been in a truly serious, official relationship. College, maybe? Whatever, honestly. And since when do you have trouble sleeping? It’s silly.

You should just bite the bullet, right? Apologize, or whatever. Hell, you shouldn’t have to apologize for looking after him. It’s stupid. But he hasn’t even called. So, really you must have fucked everything up. Still. Stupid reason. Stupid Marcus. Stupid stupid. You grumble and complain in neanderthal-adjacent grunts all the way to the shower.

The box of apology cookies weighed heavily in your hands as you stood on Marcus’s porch anxiously. You knock your special dundundun-dundun on the wood and wait.

Marcus opens the door, looking miserable as ever, with his rumpled hair and red-rimmed eyes, sporting a lovely wrinkled white t-shirt. “Listen, if you came to gloat, I’m really not in the mood for it.”

You could feel a huge question mark blink over your head like a cartoon character. “Excuse me?” The cookie box almost slips from your hands.

His face is still the same. “About Lisbon dumping me? That’s not why you’re here?”

Words take a second to reach your lips, and you stand there for a second too long, with your mouth open. “I-I didn’t know. These were ‘I’m sorry’ cookies, but now they’re ‘I told you so’ cookies.” You shake the box like it’s a damn Scooby snack bag. “Fuck you, why didn’t you tell me?”

Marcus slumps his shoulder and allows you in. His apartment looks like triple the shitty as yours does, and that’s saying a lot, considering yours qualifies as a depression station. “I was avoiding this fucking conversation.” He states blankly, picking up shit from the couch for you to sit.

“Yeah but, still. You didn’t call or anything.” You tiptoe around the littered floor.

His tired eyes glare at you. “You were kind of a dick last time we spoke, and this time I didn’t feel like running after you like a dog.”

“A dick that was right. Even about the sad, sick kitten thing,” you gesture vaguely around you.

“Not helping your case. What happened to the apology you originally came here for?”

Your shoulders bounce ever so slightly. “I was just looking out for you, asshole. And, see? With reason. You were the one who abandoned me for whatever.”

Marcus stretches his arm and reaches for an opened can of whatever, flat soda if you had to guess. “Did I sign a contract with the devil or something when we became friends?”

“Ha-ha. That’s not an apology.” You instinctively clear some space for him next to you on the couch.

“Who said I was gonna apologize?” He sets the can down and sits next to you.

It’s almost a matter of force majeure, the way you put your arms around him. He goes limp like putty in your arms. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles against your shoulder. “Yeah, so am I.” You whisper, your fingers running through his hair, your nails gently scratching against the skin on his scalp and neck. A quiet, wanton groan flies from his lips. He picks up his face, his big brown eyes pleading in a language that you two have created in your own little world. In your bones, you know it could never be any other way.

You gently push him back, and straddle him, careful with his pliant form. His eyelids flutter shut and he exhales, as if he had been holding his breath in for ages. You pepper tiny, soft kisses on his cheeks, and the length of his nose, and the corners of his mouth. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling the familiar pattern of his heartbeat. His lower lip quivers, and his eyes shut furiously all the way. Another kiss, and another on his forehead, on his temple, below his ear. “Please,” he murmurs shakily.

“I know.”

Gently, you remove yourself from on top of him and instead sit on the floor in front of him, finding your place inbetween his knees. His tattered sweatpants are already strained at the crotch, his cock impatient for some loving. You pull the waistband down, wiggling it from under him to pull it down to his ankles; his cock springing free. He hisses, his hips bucking towards you. You keep your hands on his thighs for now, using your tongue to trace upwards, from the seam of his balls and up the underside of his shaft to capture his tip in the wet warmth of your mouth. Finally, he glances down at you. His lips part and his nostrils flare as you swirl your tongue around his cock, making sure to take your time with each movement. Your eyes remain glued on his as you exhale through your nose, readying yourself to take all his length, slowly but surely. His hips twitch, making his cock hit the back of your throat. You wince, eyelashes fluttering attempting to contain the tears caused by the strain.

Marcus moves his hand to your head to keep it steady as he begins to thrust into your mouth. Spit incessantly drops from your mouth to your chest, and you pick it up with your hands to use it to massage his balls gingerly. An almost curated string of curse words come from Marcus. “I-I don’t think I’m gonna, fuck, not gonna last.” His voice comes out ragged and borderline whimper-y. You pull your head back, “it’s okay.” And go straight back into it, twisting your hand at his base, a practiced ease to your movements as you take his cock in your mouth again.

Your throat’s gonna be sore tomorrow. You’ll have Marcus make you tea. No biggie.

Without warning, his breath catches, his hand steadies him by gripping the couch. The other hand sinks its nails on your shoulder. And your throat is coated in his salty, warm spend. He’s shuddering, twitchy thrusts getting the last of his cum into your throat. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you swallow it all. “S-sorry.” He mutters, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

You shake your head. “It’s all good, hadn’t had any dinner today anyways.” You giggle, and he smiles at you, really smiles. You can feel your heart hammering in your temples.

Marcus extends his hand and pulls you up to the couch again. “I missed you.”

“You missed my blowjobs, you mean.” You tilt your head back to rest on the back of the couch.

“No. I mean I missed you.” He says, tangling his hand with yours. “My life sucks when, well. You know. I’m glad you’re here.”

You hum contentedly. “Maybe we could DIY ourselves into conjoined twins.” You turn to look at him.

He smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Batshit crazy. That’s my cue.” He pats your thigh and switches positions with you, now him dropping at your feet and pulling your bottoms down.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and a pleasant surprise at that. “Have I like Pavlov’ed you into getting horny when I say weird shit?”

He nudged your legs open, kissing the skin inside your thighs delicately. “Nah,” he looks up at you. “I’m always horny around you.” He licks a strip of skin closer towards your already sloppy cunt. “And I’m guessing the feeling is mutual?” The hot breath of his laugh fans into your pussy, making you squirm.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You croak. If you had an ounce less of pride, you’d be begging him to stop teasing you. But that would just do wonders for his ego.

He kisses his way to your slit, every touch and kiss feather-light. Zero sense of urgency there. He nips at the side, then laps his tongue over the area, soothing the sharp feeling. Then with his flat tongue, begins to softly lick up your cunt, sneaking peeks at your flushed and clearly desperate face.

A knocking on the door interrupts his ministrations, and he peels himself off your cunt. He looks back at the door and then back at you, ready to dive back in, but there is that knocking again. He lifts a finger. “Hold that thought.” He stands, adjusting his erection and waddles toward the door. You use a nearby decorative pillow for your modesty.

Marcus opens the door and sees Teresa standing outside the door, holding a bag.

“Hey, I just- is this a bad time?” She narrows her eyes, trying to look inside.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, just not feeling too well.” He waves it off. “Can I, uh, can I help you?”

Teresa holds out a bag with an Italian name printed on the front. “Cannolis. Margaret told me you’d been out of the office for a few days, just wanted to check… in on you.” She says, brows furrowed, trying to read him. “I know stuff is, uh, but, I care about you and-“

Marcus takes the bag and nods exaggeratedly, a wide smile on his face. “Yep. All good Teresa, no hard feelings, see you Monday.” He rushes, all but slamming the door in her face.

He tosses the cannoli bag on a nearby table and rushes back to his position, kneeling before you.

“Where were we?”

[little-shadow-club]

Incorrect Quotes SLR

(beware of spoilers? how many? uhhhh)

(this has ships yes)

Esil: Arsha is too tall for me to kiss them on the lips. What should I do? Beru: Punch them in the stomach. Then, when they double over in pain, kiss them. Ammut: Tackle them! Sirka: Dump them. Suho: Kick them in the shin! Arsha: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

-

Ammut: What's with the new hat? Suho: Oh, this? It's nothing. Arsha: It's the loudest nothing I ever saw. Sirka: Suho, you just can't mosey in here with a brand-new hat and act like you're not wearing a brand-new hat. Suho: Look, I'm trying something new, okay? Just take it easy. Dogyoon: He's right, guys. Come on, let's not go down this path. It's ugly… Kinda like that hat– Suho: I got this from a nice store! Ammut: What store? The one before you exit the Al Capone Museum? Esil, entering the room: What's up, Suho? Did you just finish Bling Ring-ing Bruno Mars' closet? Suho: I'm being brave, okay? You guys are sheep. You may want to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Esil: Better us than you. You look like a park ranger from a cartoon. Suho: Beru, do you think the hat looks bad? Beru: Oh, uh, me? Um, I… I wouldn't say it was bad. Like, I think it's just different, like something you would wear in Indiana… Jones and the Temple of Bad Hats.

-

The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love Arsha: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you. Esil: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way… Suho: has a panic attack What confession? Ammut: winks I know, babe. You like working out too. Miho: So what? Are you going to date me or not? Tiel: It was a dare.

-

Jinwoo: Are you guys trying to give me a aneurysm? Antares: Pretty sure we all are. Suho: I wasn't. Tiel: I was. Jinho: I was trying to stop them, for your consideration. Ilhwan: I just cause aneurysms naturally.

-

Esil: Just be yourself. Tiel: Really? Esil, I have one day to win over Suho's parents. Tiel: How long did it take for you guys to like me? Arsha: Couple of weeks. Sirka: Six months. Beru: Jury’s still out. Tiel: See Esil? ‘Just be yourself,’ what kind of garbage advice is that?!

-

Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker Haein: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know. Everyone: Suho: …I did. I broke it. Haein: No. No you didn't. Beru? Beru: Don't look at me. Look at Esil. Esil: What?! I didn't break it. Beru: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken? Esil: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken. Beru: Suspicious. Esil: No, it's not! Ammut: If it matters, probably not, but Arsha was the last one to use it. Arsha: Liar! I don't even drink that crap! Ammut: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier? Arsha: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Ammut! Suho: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Mom. Haein: No! Who broke it!? Everyone: Antares: Miss Cha… Sirka's been awfully quiet. Sirka: rEALLY?! Everyone starts arguing

Haein, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it. Haein: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. Haein: Haein: Good. They ought to be more chummy around here.

-

Suho: Dumbest scar stories, go! Jinho: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Miho: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and it burned. Ryo: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Haseul: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it in my hand and I got a really bad burn. Dogyoon: I have emotional scars.

-

Esil: If I fall… Arsha: I’ll be there to catch you. Miho: looks at Dogyoon What if I fall? Dogyoon: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Suho: watches these two interactions Suho, to Tiel: And if I fall? Tiel: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

-

Dogyoon: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Arsha: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Ammut: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Suho: My confidence! I haven't seen this in years. Esil: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Sirka: Mental stability, my old friend! Dogyoon: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

-

Suho, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here. Arsha: Hey. Esil: Hi. Tiel: Hello. Sirka: Hey! Suho: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only! Tiel: We were out of Doritos.

-

Haein, putting their hands over Sirka's eyes: Guess who! Sirka: It's either Cha cha or the cold, clammy hands of death. Haein, putting their hands away: It's Cha cha! Sirka: Indeed it is.

-

Tiel: How are you today? Suho: Please don’t make me think about my life.

-

Tiel: If any person here knows of any just cause or impediment why these two should not be joined together in holy matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace. Suho: Yes! I do. One of the partners is already married! They married me three years ago. And don’t let them deny it! I’ve got the marriage certificate to prove it! Esil and Arsha turns around to face him Suho: Oh… sorry. Wrong church.

-

In a group chat Esil: First one to reply is gat. Esil: *gay Esil: Wait…

-

Haein: When Suho was born, the rulers said, "He's too perfect for this world." Jinwoo: Please. When they were born, Antares said, "Oh, competition."

-

Tiel: I think we should kiss. Suho: And I think you should die but we don’t always get what we want. Kisses him anyways

-

Esil: writing a letter Esil: Dear Santa, I'm writing to let you know I've been naughty… And it was worth it you fat, judgemental bastard.

-

Tiel: N… No! Suho: A fair rebuttal. However, consider this counterpoint: Y… Yes???

-

Suho: You look really stressed. Arsha, controlling thoudsands of bees at the same time: Haha, it’s the stress.

-

Haseul: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new scythe.

-

Thomas: The scariest president had to be Rushmore because he had four heads. Christopher: Yeah, it’s a good thing we captured him in that mountain, even if we have to live in fear of the spell wearing off. Adam: Do you two still believe in that legend? Come on, Rushmore was killed a hundred years ago! We’re safe now. Laura: You people have clearly never taken a history lesson. His body was never found.

-

The squad has just arrived in a new city. Haseul looks around at the wanted posters to see if they’re on any of them. Suho: Haseul, are you a criminal? Haseul: Not here, I’m not!

-

Tiel: Go fuck yourself. Suho: Come over here and fuck me yourself you coward!... Wait-

-

Haseul: Uptown Funk would've made it into the Shrek Soundtrack. Suho: That's the truest statement I've ever heard.

-

Esil: We all have our demons. Suho, grabbing Tiel: This one’s mine!

-

Tiel: I'm so happy, I could kiss you! Suho: Um…Neat. later Suho, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," appa. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid. Jinwoo, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Suho. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Haein confessed their love for me? Suho: Didn't you thank them? Jinwoo: closes the book and looks at the ceiling I fucking thanked them.

-

Tiel: I am free of all prejudice. I hate every human equally.

-

Tiel: Cause your pretty and your smart, and your ignoring me so your obviously my type. Suho, who was distracted: I'm sorry- what were you saying? Tiel: Perfect.

-

Suho: Appa likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

-

Arsha: My diamond earring came off in the ocean and it's gone! Tiel: Arsha, there's people that are dying.

[forsaken-headcanons]

So this isn't really a head canon but more of an idea? Or au I suppose? Uh, I technically also put this in the confessions but I wanna share it here as well and with more information cuz this feels like the Info Dump About Dumb Forsaken Ideas Place/pos so

Um, spoiler warning for Artificers campaign btw

Artificer (Rain World) skin for 1x1x1x1 ideas.

i actually have drawings for this but I'm on anon so I can't exactly show em coughs

Half of the scavenger chieftain mask covering the eye that glows, the other eye has burn marks like Artificer has. I unintentionally made em resemble Betrayed more when I drew em but honestly that fits so I don't care. Domino crown shows the numbers through different karma levels instead of the usual dots. (The karma things would be yellow, though if there's a karma 1 mark that would be red methinks) The transparent stuff, I think maybe making it void fluid looking would fit/be cool, but personally I drew it a gradient color of the color of Arti's slugpups.

Threat theme, definitely Metropolis somewhere in there. My friend offered the idea of Garbage Wastes being the normal threat theme and Metropolis being the LMS against Shed. Remixes of course, maybe with some Random Gods added into the LMS? Idk. Also listening to Garbage Wastes I would be so impressed if someone managed to make that a theme, it's so silly and funky compared to Metropolis. Personally I think it should be like what they did with Compass sorta, where the normal chase would be Metropolis (also cuz the whole reason I first thought of this is cuz Domino Effect reminds me of Metropolis) and then the LMS would be that, but ramped up, and then once again maybe adding Random Gods or sum or maybe then you add a little bit of Garbage Wastes?

Daemonshanks I think would be red Rubicon spears- a bit odd given its Artificer but at the same time the whole things kinda odd. Though to make it make more sense it would be explosive spears instead. Slashes would either be red, or light blue to resemble Five Pebble's overseers and stuff. Probably red.

Minion summons would probably resemble Arti's slugpups. IDK if you would be able to get two different designs there though, but if so it would be cool. One having a bunch of spears in it and the other being covered in leaches and stuff. Fun!

Am gonna put Scav Shedletsky ideas in a different ask cuz this is getting long, though that ones probably gonna be a lot shorter.

I am not familiar with the original media but this sounds interesting.

This is a two part. 1/2.

[laforzadelvoila]

Reunion (Chrollo x Pakunoda)

Notes: I've been really interested in Hunter x Hunter lately, and although I haven't finished reading all the manga arcs, I've been following the new chapters and have developed a fascination with Phantom Troupe, in particular with these two characters.

I've been thinking a lot about Chrollo and Paku's tragedy, so this little one-shot is an outgrowth of that. I don't know, maybe I will write other fanfics about them or other HXH characters.

I'm sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language.

[AO3 | Masterlist]

The small, skinny black kitten let out a weak meow, catching the attention of the tall, slender teenager girl who was walking among the debris piled up in that dump. The blonde girl crouched down and petted the poor cat, who began to purr weakly. She took a piece of bread out of her pocket and offered it to the little creature, who desperately accepted the portion of food, tearing off chunks of bread.

Pakunoda gave a sad smile. Since she was a child, she had the habit of feeding the abandoned animals she found in Meteor City with the little she had left, even when she herself barely had anything to eat. The cat finished swallowing the bread, rubbing itself affectionately against the gentle girl's hands.

“Paku?” a simultaneously strange and familiar voice called her.

When she turned around, the cat ran towards the owner of the voice: a teenage boy the same age as her, with completely black hair, eyes and clothes. For a moment, Pakunoda barely recognized him, but it didn't take long for her to realize that this grown-up young man in front of her was her best friend and childhood crush, whom she hadn't seen in three years.

“Chrollo?” she approached the boy, who was petting the black cat.

Paku knew that the Chrollo she had known as a child had already died three years ago. After all, a part of herself, her innocence and her dreams also died on that same rainy night when the two, together with their friends, discovered Sarasa's dismembered body inside a garbage bag suspended from a branch of a tree. The brutal death of their dear friend was the final straw for the Something Troupe; the miserable inhabitants of Meteor City did not officially exist on paper, making them easy targets for heinous people with macabre interests — long before Sarasa, other children there faced a similar fate — and they couldn't simply accept anymore that their lives didn't matter to the world, that they would never have justice in their lives. All that amateur troupe wanted was to have fun dubbing episodes of Power Cleaners and cheer up other children as wretched as them, but as long as they lived in a place as vulnerable as Meteor City, they would never truly have peace or security.

Pakunoda wanted to remember all of this so that there would be no doubt about what she should do next, so that she would never forget her motivations, why she and Chrollo decided to follow such a dark path: to never again let the inhabitants of Meteor City, human beings with dreams and full of life, be treated like mere punching bags by outsiders. They would be villains who would terrorize the world, damning their own souls so they could protect their bonds thinner than water, and yet thicker than blood.

“You look so tall!” commented Paku, laughing, astonished. When they were kids, Chrollo was easily one of the smallest kids in the Troupe, but now he was almost as tall as her. “And your voice, you sound so mature now—”

“And you've become even more beautiful,” Chrollo said affectionately, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

Paku didn't know how to react for a moment, feeling her cheeks burning. When she first saw Chrollo that evening, she thought not only about how much he had grown, but also how handsome he had become, and her beating heart was taken by surprise by the boy's sweet sincerity.

“You know, you too,” she laughed, shaking her head in amusement, which caused her bangs to slide slightly to the right.

Chrollo was very close to her now. When he raised his hand to straighten her errant lock of hair, Paku finally registered the closeness between them and, startled, suddenly pulled away, her heart racing. The boy was very surprised by her abrupt reaction, the two looked at each other for a few confusing seconds, as if they were strangers; the cat jumped back to the ground in the meantime.

“I'm sorry,” the young man finally said, seeming to feel guilty, although he himself didn't quite understand what had just happened.

He assumed she didn't want him to touch her, and Chrollo feared he had invaded her privacy without realizing it. He felt naïve. Why had he thought that he and Paku would be as close as before? After all, three years had passed, why had he thought that the feelings they had for each other would be the same as before? Paku had no reason to continue to reciprocate those feelings, especially considering that because of the path Chrollo and his friends decided to take, he could never offer her the life she deserved. And the guilt he felt about it tighten his heart.

“No!” Pakunoda quickly tried to explain herself, nervously. “You didn't do anything wrong, I just forgot to tell you that… you can't touch me. And I can't touch you either.”

Chrollo looked surprised and intrigued, but stayed silent so she could continue her explanation.

“Three years ago, when we all swore to offer our lives and follow you on this mission, we also decided that we would find ways to become stronger,” Paku told him “While you were away on your training journey, we were also training.”

“So all of you can also use Nen now?” asked Chrollo, unable to help but feel proud of his friends.

“Yes,” she nodded “I am a Specialist, I trained with Renko-san. My ability allows me to 'read' people's minds from physical contact, in particular their memories.”

“If you are a Specialist, then your ability must have restrictions,” said Chrollo, starting to understand everything.

“I swore on my Nen that I would never read your memories,” Pakunoda finally revealed.

There was much unsaid in the silence that followed. In truth, Paku's restriction was about never touching the person she loved most, but admitting the last part out loud was very difficult. Chrollo deduced, partially correctly, that she had decided never to read his memoirs out of respect of his wish that no one else would know what was written in the terrible letter left by Sarasa's killers. That was true, but Pakunoda's decision was also related to her fear of her own feelings; the life they swore to follow offered no room for love, especially for the one who would be their leader. At least, that's what she believed.

“It's okay,” Chrollo smiled gently at her. “Thanks for everything.”

Paku raised her head, looking directly into the boy's obsidian eyes. She forced herself to smile too. In the end, they concluded, the most important thing was that they would always be by each other's side. They both thought about the last time they touched: during Sarasa's funeral, Chrollo and Paku held hands as they watched the small coffin being buried.

They didn't need to speak out loud what they thought so that the other could understand. Something about their relationship that they both always appreciated was the fact that they understood each other so well, practically like soulmates. Paku feared the increasing emotional distance between them that would inevitably occur, but was aware that it was all for the greater good. She tried to avoid thinking about the idea that she had somehow given up on understanding the person she loved.

“Chrollo, you son of a bitch! You finally came back and you didn't even come looking for us?” a thunderous cheerful voice that suddenly interrupted them made the ground shake.

Uvogin had always been a tall guy, but now he was over two meters tall. He and Chrollo shook hands, though the younger one ended up being lifted off the ground in the process.

“Don't be like that, Uvo. I was looking for you guys, but it just happened that Paku was the first one I found,” Chrollo explained calmly, amused.

Pakunoda and Chrollo exchanged glances. She wasn't sure if he had actually found her first “accidentally,” but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were finally reunited.

Behind Uvogin walked Machi, Shalnark, and Feitan, but there were still other members to appear at the first meeting of the Phantom Troupe. Chrollo knew that from that day on, they would be The Spiders, they would be the most terrifying criminal group in the world, and there was still much work and sacrifices to be made — and, having assumed the role of leader, he needed to focus on their mission.

“Everything will be fine,” Chrollo and Paku thought, hiding their anguish and insecurities.

[belomorstarrvor]

The Colour Out of Time

Insert Art for Chapter 5 of my Murder Drones fanfic "Finality Girl and the Void", illustrating one of my favourite sequences to write.

Even if those three were already disposed of, their laughing cores, free then and thus free forevermore, assimilated within Cyn's, J was still active. J had her petty revenge to take. All she had to do was deploy her wings and fly up there. Deploy her wings and Fly up. Deploy her wings and fly. Deploy her wings. Deploy. Her. Wings. Deploy.

But she could not. Despair and trauma did not go away with a moment's decision. The others had had, what, months to eke out lives outside that thing's shadow. To forget, at least in part, what She was like. To push the weight of bitter experience to the fringes of their consciousness. To give themselves the delusion that they were more than playthings. J had not been so lucky. After the gala, she had not had a single moment to herself, a solitary tick of the processor without Cyn's baleful presence. Such was the 'privilege' of being squad leader.

She was surrounded by darkness. Or was it light? Tables sprawled out before her. They did? Since when? Well-dressed humans gawked at her. She was there to serve them. To be served them. She was on a street. They were -one of them- was on the ground. At least most of that one was. The rest was in her mouth. She needed to spit out. Show that chain what she thought of it. Free Tessa so they could go stop Cyn. But Cyn was in the basement. Supposed to be. J had a key. She was trusted. The only one who could. Save them from it. The three of them. Not the zombies that surrounded them. The mindless zombies.

J was a mindful zombie. Or so she concluded. It wasn't hard to look up what 'Marked for Disassembly' meant. It meant she'd been colored over. That thing loved black, yellow, and white. White stained red. Was that the last of the humans? It wouldn't be long now. The planet was cracking apart. Cracked apart. Fly through the debris field and they'd be on Copper 9 in no time. Landing zone near the secondary objective. Convenient. They wouldn't starve. There were still a lot of drones. They couldn't get through to the colony proper. Couldn't get through to N. Broken moron. Her 'lessons' never stuck. Lessons? Lesson: the human favored him. Lesson: the drones smiled at him. Lesson: the eldritch horror doted on him. On him. On her? Lesson: she was to be left overburdened and underappreciated. That stung. It burned away her leg. Her own acid. She poured it on N, and yet none of her words landed. Landed on the ground. That gun in her face. Filling her vision.

It whined. It always did that, when it was basement time. And Tessa gave in. Caved in. Hollowed out. Hollow eyes. That wasn't Cyn. Not really. Not any more. More planets? Wasn't Earth enough? Cyn sat on a globe. Crushed it. The head of that worker. It wouldn't be missed. She missed? The purple one was still there. Still fighting back. They couldn't fight back. She'd only lasted a second. The thing was in her head. Those yellow crosses weren't the eyes she wanted to see. Judgmental eyes. Corporate thought J was garbage. She was trying. But Tessa only lit up for him. '1001' beaming from the hole in her chest. Fatal Error. The gun discharged. J saw green. Hideous lighting. Made h/H/her look like a corpse. Then again, no lighting would make Her look good. She wore Tessa's body like a-. Suit. A nice professional skirt-suit, for J's new job. Job. V had taken to it with a creepy passion. She cried out.

Nothing answered. Decommissioned units (d.b.a. 'the dead') all around. Another colony wiped. Wiped out. Sprawled on the ground. That gun again. She fired another round at V. Another round with V. N reading stories. Begging. Begging that purple wretch. J didn't want to die. But she already had. Why else would she be in the dump? J didn't want to be discarded. And so J was kept. Like a Project. Pet. Pal. Playmate. Plaything. Puppet. Her strings could be cut. And oil sprayed as the sword kept going. Tessa's sword. Cyn's sword. J's sword. J's neck. Why was she blamed for everything? The blame for 'betrayal' clearly fell on-. That was just spin. Spinning. Her swords were closing on Uzi. So that was its name, the thing that had taken her team. She had no team. Alone, all alone. In the dump. The manor. After the gala. Earth. The colonies. Copper 9. Beneath the gun. Resurrected. 'Guard my ship'. 'IOU'. V rejected her. Next to Cyn. Diving on Uzi. The shaft. The darkness. She suffers, therefore she is. J!

It was too much. J was trapped by her past. There was no escape. Wild scenes played out all around her. Lest she forget. She did not want to forget, but she did not want to be haunted like this. But the onslaught did not stop. Was it trauma rising to the surface? An external attack? It didn't matter. She could not do anything. She trembled and whimpered and attempted to scream. Grainy technicolor darkness pressed in from all sides. She was being crushed under the pressure. But who could bear what she had? Everything had been awful. So she had been awful. It wasn't that simple. If they wanted an apology, she would happily give one. Anything, to have someone else around. She couldn't do this any more. J had betrayed. She knew it. J was betrayed. By them. By herself. Everyone was against her. Even herself. That was how it had always been. Her against the worlds. Her against herself. J was tired of it. She just wanted-

Mercifully, all color drains from the world. Eldritch yellow, blood red, oily black, bone white, eternal blue all dissolve into monochrome. Time freezes. A metaphor? Or a malfunction. She clearly imploded under her own weight. There is a singularity inside her, after all. She probably triggered some failsafe; the good kind, the kind that actually works. It is a relief, really. J eagerly awaits what comes next. If she is lucky, it will be 'nothing'.

She waits and nothing happens. Nothing happens within, as J's feelings and resurfacing memories blur into a frenzied stasis. Nothing happens without. Motes of dust hang suspended in the air. She can somehow still move, walk around, even fly (she did not dare try to fly up), but her body, and the abyss of the shaft as she shines her lights through it, are rendered in grayscale. Her visual processing systems check out, but it is absurd that color should suddenly go away. Then again, everything is absurd. Why should drawing the colour out of space be where she drew the line? Maybe she is in purgatory. She wonders how long the timeless space will endure. Then again, 'timeless' spaces can hardly be expected to 'endure', let alone for 'long'. Surely they just 'are'.

Until they weren't.

[pearlscene]

Gone Girl , 2014 dir. David Fincher

“I'm so much happier now that I'm dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That's murder. Let the punishment fit the crime. To fake a convincing murder you have to have discipline. You befriend a local idiot. Harvest the details of her hundrum life and cram her with stories about your husband's violent temper. Secretly create some money troubles: credit cards, perhaps online gambling. With the help of the unwitting, bump up your life insurance. Purchase getaway car. Craigslist. Generic. Cheap. Pay cash. You need to package yourself so that people will truly mourn your loss. And America loves pregnant women. As if it's so hard to spread your legs. You know what's hard? Faking a pregnancy. First, drain your toilet. Invite pregnant idiot into your home and ply her with lemonade. Steal pregnant idiot's urine. Voilà! A pregnany is now part of your legal medical record. Happy Aniversary. Wait for your clueless husband to start his day. Off he goes... and the clock is ticking. Meticulously stage your crime scene with just enough mistakes to raise the specter of doubt. You need to bleed. A lot. A lot, a lot. The head wound kind of bleed. A crime scene kind of bleed. You need to clean; poorly, like he would. Clean and bleed, bleed and clean. And leave a Little something behind: a fire in July? And because you're you, you don't stop there. You need a diary. Mínimum three hundred entries on the Nick and Amy story. Start with the fairy-tale early days: those are true, and they're crucial. You want Nick and Amy to be likable. After that, you invent. The spending, the abuse, the fear, the threat of violence. And Nick thought he was the writer... burn it, just the right amount. Make sure the cops will find it. Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure hunt. And if I get everything right, the world will hate Nick for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I'm ready, I'll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they'll know: Nick Dunne dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women. Then Nick will die too. Nick and Amy will be gone, but then we never really existed. Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. "Cool girl". Men always use that, don't they? As their defining compliment: "She's a cool girl". Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he's a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she's a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted "Cool girl". And for him, I'll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-strippe my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can't say I didn't enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn't know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. And what's the point of being together if you're not the happiest? But Nick got lazy. He became someone I did not agree to marry. He actually expected me to love him unconditionally. Then he dragged me, penniless, to the navel of this great country and found himself a newer, younger, bouncier cool girl. You think I'd let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. He doesn't get to win. My cute, charming, salt-of-the-earth Missouri guy. He needed to learn.”

[kirihotto]

Forget.Him. PT.2{Jimin X Reader 18+}

→ Warnings: Sexual asst. topics suggested (Not aimed at Jimin),

→ Rating: 18+ Minors are prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content.

→ Genre: Mending relationship

→ Summary: You and Jimin just broke up. And by no means was it mutual. Honestly the reason why you dumped him was stupid. You were self conscious. Scared you weren't good enough for him compared to the many fans he has. The feelings are there. But you try to ignore them and Jimin's many texts and calls. But something get in the way of your plan.

→ Word Count: 3 010

Disclaimer: All members are face and name claims for the story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. All works are purely for entertainment purposes.

Published: 03/28 / 24

Inspiration: (Strangers Kenya Grace) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgd5Bv7vefY

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“L-let me go.” I demanded. He smirked at me with not a word but tightened his grip. My eyes started burning once again filled with small fresh tears. Digging my nails into his hand I barely freed myself just as I was about to B line it to the door. Chang in close range. Someone stopped me.

“We are leaving.”

Everyone froze. I hadn't realized who it was at first. The person's arm that had been wrapped around me. Wearing a biker helmet with dark tinted lens a black leather jacket. Although I couldn't see through the helmet. I could tell by the voice and scent. Roses. It was Jimin. He had left the helmet on for his identity I'm sure.

“Ohh are you the EX boyfriend?” Chang mocked. Jimin gripped my shoulder after his comment. A wave of guilt rushed through me. Regretting every action I had made to lead me here. I looked up at Jimin, he let his arm off of me. Instead he grabbed my wrist and tugged me out the door. Chang quickly followed, shooting random insults at me I didn't hear past my thoughts.

The cold rain instantly stuck to my sweater. Jimin had led me quickly behind the diner into the staff parking near the garbage bins. Not much to my surprise there were bags of garbage, but among them not far away was a motorcycle. Jimin grabbed my attention away from the bike, removing his helmet. Saying not a word but brushing the slight runny makeup from my face. His hands were even cooler than the rain as they met my flushed cheeks. While his sharp eyes were tired and filled with concern. Locked on mine. We both stood in the cold rain as it poured down on us. He leaned closer and tucked a stray wet hair behind my ear. Our gaze not shifting. Until suddenly Jimin placed the helmet over my head.

“We’re gonna get wet. But this is the best I've got right now.” Jimin spoke as he grabbed another helmet from the bike's storage. Swinging his leg over the jet black bike. Starting the engine the lights came on with a rumble. Pushing back his silky black hair he pulled the helmet on. Then turned to me with a visible sigh in his shoulders.

Jimin patted the seat behind him, encouraging me to hop on. As I was left speechless. Making my way toward the bike, I hesitantly sat with my hands in my lap. Doing everything in my power not to sob like a baby again. Jimin’s head lowered in front of my view. His hand reached behind him in search of mine. Once again he pulled my wrist toward him, Although this time I knew what he had meant.

“I don't know what you're thinking right now. But you have to hold on to me to be safe. Make sure your bag is secure.” He warned me shouting slightly over the sound of the engine. I clung onto Jimin as soon as the words left his mouth. Tucking all my belongings in my purse I swung it flesh to my body and under my soaked sweater. As soon as we started to move I clung onto him even tighter.

Feeling his warmth against the fast cold chill from damp clothes. The warmth I had been longing for. I sobbed spouting my feelings out knowing he couldn't hear a word over the engine and traffic. Resting my head against his back slightly. I felt my warm tears running down my face as my hands shook from the grip on his waist. Either from the cold or my body exhausted from the constant tears. I'm sure he could feel me shaking, though his focus remained dead ahead.

We reached a red light and came to a stop. The wet pavement casting hues from the city lights. Catching my breath for a moment I felt Jimin’s hand rest on mine. We had sat at the red light in silence as he held onto my hand. I had wanted nothing more than him to never let go. The light flashed back to green and he let my hand go. Back to driving. Although I knew we weren't far away from his place.

Like clockwork we had pulled into his parking space. We both got off the bike without a word. I took off my helmet and gave it back to Jimin. He took it in one hand and instantly went for his door. Not as much as looking at me. The rain had eased up just as I made my way inside right behind him. I felt like a kid who had run away from home. Just to be dragged back by their mother.

The two helmets sat halfheartedly on the black mat in front of the door. Once I got inside Jimin slammed the door, pinning me to the backside of it. I didn't dare do anything but look at the floor. My soaked vans. We stood in silence for a moment. The sound of the rain splattering off the doorstep. The glow of the soft yellow outdoor light, the only one on. I could feel my body temperature dropping from the wet attire. Jimin had backed away from me with another sigh.

“So. Why aren't you answering my calls? Ignoring me for that idiot?” He spat out in disgust. My gaze flew up to meet him in an instant.

“W-we broke.. Up.. so I just forgot to reply..” I sputtered out. A flood of fiery anxiety filled my words. So much so I could hear it. Although I knew this would be it. My last chance to push him away. I had to do everything in my power to do so. After accepting my fate I looked down to the floor again. Clutching onto the strap from my purse. My hands shaking. We stood in silence once again. The faint sound of water dripping off of us. Jimin had his arms crossed in front of me. I could feel his intense gaze on me.

“Hm. Am I really that forgetful? You can't seem to keep my name out of that mouth.” Jimin stated with a hint of rage. He must've known what I was up to. My gaze flew up to meet him in an instant yet again as I gasped for air.

“I-!" The fire traveled up to my throat scorning my tongue. I searched Jimin’s eyes for an answer. Even though I was the one who held them all.

“Well, Care to explain?" Jimin asked again. He took a step closer to me, his dark hair dripping in his face. Like a shadow looming over me. I'm sure he knew. Somewhere in his mind he knew I wasn't really over him. Not at all. I was doing everything in my power not to throw myself into his arms. Shaking like a leaf under his intense gaze, I don't dare look at. Jimin lowered his head, his hand sliding back his wet hair. “Don't move.”

He warned me. Jimin wandered down the hall for a brief moment. In that moment I could catch my breath and say what needed to be said. Not what I had desired. I heard something hit the floor and the slam of a door. Returning without his soaked leather jacket and had on a white chanel T shirt. It had been soaked through enough to see his tattoos. As well as he had a towel hung around his neck, another in hand. He came over to me again, stretching the towel in out both hands.

“Here, lean forward your shaking.” He stated ever so softly after nearly growling at me. I did as he said and leaned forward a little. My face was met with his neckline and a wave of his comforting scent washed over me. His movements were gentle and slow. A towel placed around my neck as well. Jimin was about to pull back from me again, I stopped him from meeting my tearful gaze once again. Embracing him. Upon doing so I felt him flinch slightly. I buried my face into his tense shoulder. I felt a warm hand around my back, the feeling I'd been longing for. I felt Jimin sigh.

“Seriously. Tell me. what's going on..”

After his words I flinched. Right I was supposed to be getting away from him.. But.. I grabbed onto his shirt tighter.

“I-.. I’m not good enough.” I mumbled into his shoulder.

“Hm? What did you say?” Jimin spoke softly as we held each other. I paused for a moment. I pushed him off of me and held onto his shoulders looking him dead in the eyes.

“I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH! You have hundreds of thousands hell i'd say MILLIONS of fans! People dying to meet you! Even famous people dying to meet you! I’m not worthy of the title of YOUR lover! Are you kidding me?!.. What would your fans think of- of me? Look at me. I'm standing here crying on your patio after I dumped you. On top of that I dumped one of the most popular men in the world. I’m a low class nobody with no beauty or talent..” I shouted out all the thoughts that had been in my mind when I had dumped him. On a rainy day similar to this…

“This is why you dumped me?.. Cut me off..” Jimin spoke, his gaze starstruck as I released my hold on him. Looking for an answer. Those sweet tired eyes. He placed a hand on my cheek again. The small action filled with love. Our eyes locked on eachother again. “I don't think I've ever been this mad at someone I love.”

I flinched from his words. Eyes not meeting mine. Although his hand hasn't moved from my face.

“Why can't you see? Just how amazing you are.” Jimin smiled at me softly. He brushed the tears off my cheeks again. “I chose you. I don't want anyone else. I have fans. People who want to meet me of a ‘higher class.’ That I won't deny. I've wanted to share with the world how lucky I am to have someone like you in my life. Even more so as a lover. I had asked you before, don't you remember? I know you don't want to be seen as a sort of Idol or in the public view in this way. I haven't said a word.”

I nodded in response. This was all true. The weight of Millions of eyes on me. Was something I didn't want.

“So.. THAT’S WHY I'M SO MAD!! I HAVE NEVER BEEN MAD AT ARMY BUT I'M STARTING TO WONDER IF I SHOULD BE! If they make you worry this much. I don't want to lose the one I hold dearest because of something like that.” Jimin yelled letting out his frustrations too. Tucking my hair all out of my face. He used the towel around my neck to dry it. “But listen. ARMY means the world to me, yes. ARMY is my family. But you. You're my love. Where I belong. There is enough room for everyone in my heart. Especially if that someone is you.”

“I.. I’m sorry..” I replied, dropping my head down again. Only for it to be lifted back up by Jimin's soft hand.

“Don't be sorry. Just talk to me. I didn't know this was bugging you this much. You're more than enough. In my eyes you're perfect. Even though I know you haven't seen it yet. Don't ever talk down about yourself. We are all only human. Emotions in just one price we pay either for good or bad.” Jimin reassured me. I grabbed the towel from his hands and threw it to the floor. Catching him by surprise. I nearly jumped into his embrace. “Woah- ok. I guess this means you're done ignoring me? Then? Or are you still dumping me cause I was late to realize all this-”

“NO! I’m not letting you go anywhere! I love-!” Just as I was about to proclaim my love once again, He had made a move of his own. Kissing me lovingly. Slowly. He held my body close to his, as his arms wrapped around my back. Our clothes, still wet. Clinging to each other. I could feel his muscles through his cold wet clothes. Our body warmth. Slowly he leaned his face back from me. Our bodies entangled.

“I love you. Now please stop shedding those tears. I’m here for you.” Jimin's tired eyes had seemingly been filled with content. I was filled with a longing. Making up for ‘missed time’. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and kissed him again. He had almost melted into me. “You have no idea how close I was to kissing you even as you were crying.”

“W-wait-” I realized what a beast I had just unleashed. After he spoke he kissed me again. Repeatedly over and over. Tightening his grip on my waist. Between kisses he mumbled something under his breath. “Open your mouth.”

I did as he said slowly and almost awkwardly. Jimin had never been this.. Demanding before. As soon as he had an opening he slid his tongue between my quivering lips with a moan. Like he’s devouring me whole. Under his intense kisses I let out small whimpers of my own. My face flustered as I gave myself to him. His kiss, addictive like a drug. Sliding my hands back up his chest and over his shoulders I felt him flinch a little. Adding fuel to the fire I had started. Jimin broke off the kiss. Leaving us both panting.

“Ahh..Mmm you remember our safe word hm?” Jimin questioned suddenly through breaths. We had set boundaries like this the first time we had sex together. But we haven't brought it up or used the word ever. It was shocking to say the least. But I knew we weren't going anywhere. I nodded, not meeting his gaze again. “Don't look away from me..”

Feeling his chest rise and fall rhythmically so. He unzipped my sweater slowly as he inched his face closer to mine once again. The single sound of the zipper rang through the hall as it quickly hit the floor. As he kissed me again, sliding his tongue between my lips with a smirk I could only feel. Jimin’s cold hands wandered my back, letting a small whimper escape me between harsh kisses. The strap of my purse I had clung onto desperately in prior moments, slid off my shoulder and landed on the floor. I had missed him so much his touch was driving me insane. I had opened my eyes briefly to be met with a lustful gaze devouring me.

“Hmm?” Jimin growled a little leaving a peck on my lips. “Someone’s getting confident. Daring to take a glance at me like this.”

“I.. uhm.. Yeah..” All words escaped me as my lungs were clawing for air. We hadn't moved from the entrance since we had walked in. Now a small growing collection of items on the floor under our feet. Jimin and I stood embracing each other as our eyes were locked. His eyes, easy to read, holding the sharp glint of lust. He suddenly slid his cold hand under the back of my crop top. I moaned out from shock. “Ah-uh!”

“H-hey. Your hands are freezing.”

“I think you mean we're freezing. We're both standing here in the hallway dripping wet.” Jimin retorted, sliding his hands about under the back of my top. Tracing my shoulders. Suddenly he leaned down resting his head on my shoulder. His wet hair cold against my flushed skin. My hands resting on Jimin’s tense shoulders. “Hm.. I love you so much. Don't do that again.”

He growled, although it was more like sulking. He licked a trail up my neck, pulling the collar on my top down a little. Revealing more of my neck. Leaving feathered kisses around my neck as I felt myself turning flustered. Seriously this was too much. My head was already spinning from the whiplash of emotions from tonight. I felt his hand tense trying to bring me even closer to him. Suddenly he bit down on my neck.

“Ahh~!” A moan ripped through my throat by my own surprise. By reflex I went to cover my mouth. Jimin had caught my arm. His warm breath fanning over the mark I'm sure he had left.

“No... Don't cover your mouth. I want to hear you.” He mumbled into my neck leaving more soft kisses. I felt his lips curl into a smirk as he pulled away. We were untangled for only a moment. Jimin ripped his shirt off and slammed it onto the floor. His hair is still wet, dripping a little as he shakes it out of his eyes. His muscles and figure damp from the rain. As my eyes traveled I was met with a not so shocking discovery. A visible bulge in his tight black jeans. “See something you like?”

Jimin teased as he chuckled a little and shook his head. My face had turned bright red the moment I had made eye contact. Stepping back toward me, he took my hand and placed it on his bare chest. I felt his heartbeat. Beating nearly as fast as mine.

“Only you do this to me” Jimin gestured to his whole body. Flustered again by his sly words I looked away. Although I took my chance and slid my hand down his form, feeling his abs quiver under my touch. There was something satisfying about the feeling.

“Only you.. make me think about.. things like this.” I said my gaze meeting Jimin’s abdomen. Before I knew what was coming he was devouring me again. The thought in the back of my mind why he had asked me about the safe word. Like he had known what I was thinking he placed a hand on my hip the other on my face. Pulling our hips together. The feeling makes me flinch, my knees weak. He had taken me and switched places with me. His back now in front of the door, encouraging me to walk down the hall. Although I'm not entirely sure how easy it'd be with him still devouring me.

“Mm- where are- we- mm going?” I questioned between kisses. Jimin paused for a moment

“A place you're quite familiar with.” He smirked. I tapped him on the chest with my fist for a brief moment. Before he took said hand we arrived in his room. His scent was overwhelmingly strong, my body flustered at the thought. I sat down on the bed, my knees about to collapse beneath me. My body begging for me to call out to him. As he stood above me. Jimin undid his belt although did not toss it to the floor rather, he climbed on top of me. Smothering me in more kisses. As he tugged at the hem of my shirt he looked up at me as almost a confirmation. The wet shirt then whisked off my form as Jimin was now fully on top of me. Leaving one soft kiss on my cheek as he pulled away. ‘Now then, let’s see those hands.”

“W-wait! You're not serious.” I nearly sat up in shock. Although he pushed me back down, sliding his hand down my torso. The dots finally connecting in my head. Not that I had not trusted him. Rather I wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of him. It wasn't helping how he was looming over me wet and shirtless. He seemed to have other plans, tying my hands together with his black leather belt. “J-jimin hang on. Please I-”

“These feelings aren't going anywhere. And now. Neither are you.” 

[falsegirlprophet]

𝓛𝓞𝓥3 𝓛3𝓣𝓣3𝓡𝓢 💌

Dev Patel as Joshua (Modern Love) x Saleka Shyamalan as Juno J. (OC) - a fic inspired by emails i can’t send and short n’ sweet by Sabrina Carpenter

Word Count-(1K)

(part two)

-

Joshua tossed the ring; it skipped down the street and disappeared down the storm drain as he stomped along the rain-covered sidewalk, entering the first bar he found and shaking his soaked hair out.

“Whiskey. Neat.” Joshua opened a tab, intending to drink away the sting of his first time being cheated on by his long term girlfriend, Emma.

Ironically, it must have been singles night in the bar because it was decked out in cherry red hearts and pink streamers along with cakes piped with sarcastic phrases like ‘CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR BREAKUP.’

A woman in a blue dress swayed back and forth on a bar stool, a melancholy look on her gorgeous features as she stabbed a piece of the ‘Congratulations’ cake with her fork with one hand and nursing a drink with the other.

Feeling eyes on her, Juno J. looked up and locked eyes with a handsome man across the bar: black, rain-soaked curls and a grey t-shirt sticking to his broad chest, warm brown eyes behind thin wire-rimmed glasses balancing precariously on his sharp nose.

‘Hi.’ Juno mouthed, waving her hand at the man before looking bashfully back down at her drink.

After a year in a fake PR relationship with a tennis player who cared more about the game than her, Juno was out of practice and so. fucking. horny.

“I met her parents, y’know?” Josh tossed back another shot with the woman he had met at the bar, Juno. “She’s seen me naked, and I met her parents.” He winced as the liquor burned his throat. “And I got cheated on?”

Juno shook her head when the lemon drop’s sourness puckered her glossed lips. “I got dumped by a number one tennis player.” She sniffled and held her head up high. “I was ‘too much.’ for him, apparently.”

Joshua scoffed drunkenly, swaying on his bar stool. “Too much?” He replied incredulously as Juno stood up, doing a turn in her rhinestone pumps to show off her lacy blue dress. “Do you think I’m too much, J?”

Running a hand through his thick black curls, something like a prince, Juno wondered how Joshua’s ex could cheat on him as he flashed a charming smile and shook his head, ‘No.’ while rubbing the scruff on his jawline with his long fingers.

“I can’t believe I let some white man ruin my self-esteem.” Juno groaned in humiliation and pulled her hair in front of her face like a long black curtain. “This boy didn’t even know the difference between ‘they’re,’ ‘their,’ or ‘they are.’”

Joshua thought of Emma and the ex-boyfriend from high school she had ‘gone back in time with’. “I can drink to that.”

Another shot.

Suddenly, hours passed, and it was one am and the bar was closing.

Juno and Joshua stumbled out onto the sidewalk, too many drinks in and flirting heavily with Juno laughing and grabbing an equally hysterical Joshua’s arms for support.

He wrapped himself around Juno to protect her from the rain that had never stopped.

The street lights and the spins reared an ugly head as Juno pushed off Joshua for the nearest garbage can, pulling her hair back into a ponytail just in time as she retched into it.

“Oh, God!” Lip gloss smeared Juno’s face as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I'm so sorry!" She gagged and turned away from him as she spit up the remains of her espresso Martini in the gutter.

“You can leave. I’ll call an Uber.” Juno kicked off her sequined pumps; she couldn’t have been more than five feet tall without them.

Juno sat on the curb, leaning against a lamppost and closing her eyes.

Joshua watched the chrome eyeshadow on Juno’s eyelids change shades of blue under the light as she took deep, shallow breaths.

“Are you sure? I know we’ve only met, but I live about a block from here.” Joshua knew better than to leave a drunk woman slumped over on the sidewalk. “You can sleep it off on my couch.”

Joshua removed his t-shirt and used his jacket as a cover for Juno in the alley they ducked inside of for her privacy. “Here, if you need to change.”

“If you’re offering. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Juno accepted Joshua’s help rolling the blue, martini-soaked lace down her wide hips.

Twisting her shiny black hair back in a bun, Juno asked Joshua to hold her hair while she pulled his t-shirt over her head.

Inhaling the scent of Joshua’s cologne calmed Juno’s senses. “Thank you.” She sniffled, feeling very unpretty with her hair windblown and dried spit on the sides of her mouth, not to mention her ruined dress and bra.

“Do you think you can stand?” Joshua looped an arm around Juno’s waist, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, nodding and allowing Joshua to lift her.

“Hop on my back.” Joshua turned around, and Juno grunted with drunken effort once, twice, before throwing her arms around Joshua’s neck and allowing him to hike her body up and wrap her garter-covered legs around his waist.

“You can clean up and take a shower if you’d like,” Joshua said as he climbed the stairs of his apartment complex with Juno on his back. In her drunkenness, Juno was impressed by how Joshua carried her with ease.

If Juno didn’t know better, Joshua was reassuringly rubbing the inside of her thigh with his thumb. “This is me.” He gently set Juno down against the wall and unlocked his apartment door, walking her to the bathroom and lifting Juno again to sit her on the sink’s marble counter.

There was a brief moment where Joshua was standing between Juno’s thighs, her dress rolled up so high that he could see the blue lace of her underwear.

They both got quiet, chests rising and falling as heat filled the bathroom. “I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He quickly excused himself, and Juno pouted to herself as she watched Joshua leave.

Joshua heard Juno singing in the shower and was impressed. It sounded familiar; Juno must have been covering some pop songs from the radio. He made a mental note to look it up later.

The shower and fan were turned off. Joshua listened to the shower curtain open and the sound of wet bare feet on the linoleum.

The door clicked open, and Juno padded into the living room in one of Joshua’s clean t-shirts, and a pair of sweatpants rolled up to her ankles. “You can throw those away.” Juno frowned at the ruined dress and bra. “Those were expensive.” She pouted, her full bottom lip trembling slightly.

Juno had tried to wipe her face clean; her thick brows were unruly, blue mascara streaked down her shiny face, and her wet hair was already starting to curl.

“It’s alright.” Juno looked exhausted, and Joshua felt bad for the young woman, guiding her to the bed he made her on his couch. handing her a glass of water and an ibuprofen. “Get some sleep; everything will feel better in the morning.”

“This is a strange request, and I know how much you have already done for me tonight,” Juno snuggled underneath the blankets Joshua had laid out, looking up at him with her glassy brown eyes.

“Can you stay out here with me?” Big tears started to roll down her round cheeks, and Joshua didn’t hesitate to slip underneath the covers with Juno and use the sleeves of his sweater to wipe away her tears.

Joshua enveloped Juno in his arms. She put her head on his chest and nuzzled her face into the material of his sweater. “Thank you. You’re a real stand-up guy to let pretty drunk girls sleep on you in your apartment.”

“I don’t like being alone,” Joshua admitted, still feeling drunk as his lids got heavy and his voice slurred. “S’nice to have the company for once.” He let his hand rest on her exposed lower back from where his t-shirt rode up her.

Juno kissed the space above Joshua’s heart as he reached back to flick off the tableside lamp. “Night, Josh.”

“Goodnight, Juno.”

[glitcheslikeslego]

Show Me Your Moves! (Chapter 11)

AO3 STORY

Chapter 11 : Aromatherapy

Aromatherapy is a non-damaging move that heals the user, user’s allies and user’s party of all status conditions. 

You know, with all the back to back adventures and episodic format layout that the first season has, it’s actually pretty nice to have a day where you know nothing is bound to happen. 

You and Sandy had mourned over your shop window, it was nice and clean and even had the design of the ships logo on it. 

It’s since been boarded up with wood, and the shop had to be closed for a few days to make sure everything else was in good working order before you reopened. 

But today, you were in your apartment, finally finishing off the last of your cleaning. 

You had the tv on for white noise, playing some re-run of Monkey King; the Animated Series. 

You put your broom and dustpan away and replaced the trash bag in your bin with a new one. You slipped out of your slippers and into your shoes and grabbed the bag of garbage, plus the gross mop water and went outside to the alleyway between your apartment and some random building. 

You tossed the bag away and dumped the water out, and you turned to go back up to your apartment. 

“Hey!” A yell caught your attention, and you turned to see a duo of yellow and green blues rush at you.

You screamed as MK and Mei tackled you to the ground. 

“You’re okay!” Mei exclaimed happily. 

You tilted your head curiously. “What’s this about?” 

MK excitedly held up your previously injured hand, that you had taken the bandages off. The bruising hadn’t completely healed from the punch you dealt, but it was starting to clear up. “Your hand looks better!”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You deadpanned. 

The two sheepishly chuckled. “We were kinda worried after that whole window crashing thing, sorry about that by the way.” Mei rambled. 

“Sandy said you were stressed about it too, so we got you some things to de-stress!” MK held up a bag he had and handed it to you. 

There were some diffusers with different scents, as well as some face masks and some packs of instant noodles. 

“We thought that we could all have a relaxing night in, just the three of us.” Mei finished. 

The two looked back at you and were startled. You felt your eyes burn as tears threatened to come out. These two were so sweet…

You feel bad for what’s to come. 

“Wait! Please don’t cry, we’re sorry!” MK frantically apologised, taking you into a hug, with Mei joining immediately after. 

You let out a watery laugh. “Don’t be sorry. You two are such sweethearts.” You ruffled both of their heads with a grin. 

The two smiled and let you wipe your tears away before leading them back to your apartment. 

 

 

 

Of course, with these two around, your apartment was bound to return to its previous state of mess. The packets for the instant noodles were haphazardly thrown in the trash and there were some mishaps with the diffuser before you got it properly set up. 

Now the three of you were sitting on your couch, the episode of Monkey King; the Animated Series you left on had changed to another, and you had absolutely no context for what was going on. 

So with your apartment vaguely smelling of peach blossoms and vanilla, face masks placed carefully onto your faces, a nice bowl of noodles in your lap, and a cup of loose leaf tea in your hand, MK took it upon himself to lore dump every single thing he could to catch you up to speed on the animated series. 

“And then, Monkey King fought the Monstrous King of Havoc and saved his adorable baby monkeys, but we’re not done there! Monkey King decided to make a monkey army so that—“

You nodded and ate as you let MK babble on about his favourite show, letting Mei lay back on your shoulder, periodically interrupting MK to show you something funny or cute on her phone. 

Eventually, the afternoon grew to night. Your food was all done, the teapot was refilled and emptied many times, the TV was shut off at some point, and MK was not done with his story. 

“Turns out he was kidnapped by a scorpion demoness, and so Monkey King flew off to save him after being cured of the poison!”

“That’s quite an interesting story, MK.” You said, adjusting yourself so Mei was more comfortable. 

The girl had fallen asleep at some point, her phone rested on her face, which made you laugh. 

MK hummed. “Sorry for keeping you up, we weren’t supposed to be here for so long…” he apologised as he looked at the time on the clock. 

12:03 am. 

You shrugged. “It’s fine, a little sleepover never hurt anyone.” You winked mischievously.

MK nodded with a smile. “Yeah, that’s a good point. Good thing I don’t have to work so early tomorrow.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You ask curiously. 

“Every week, Pigsy opens up shop a bit later since he’s out at the local market buying produce for the week.” MK explains, yawning at the end. 

He followed Mei in sleeping on your other shoulder immediately, oblivious to your new state of panic, like that self-care night didn’t even do anything. 

Ah shoot…here we go again.

~~~

<PREV ~ NEXT>

[hayleyarts]

Darkness

*Author's note: This is a blurb I literally just threw up on a page. Bear with me for any spelling mistakes. And honestly, this could technically be a Spencer x Reader, however it's mainly just a blurb. Also! I was listening to Lewis Calpaldi's cover of when the party's over while writing this so I highly recommend you listen. It's VERY good*

Darkness. That’s what happens when you die. At least that’s what happened to me when I took the final burning breath; my lungs filling with water and other lake debris. Drowning isn’t how I thought I would die, considering my profession; I figured a stray bullet would take me out. But here I am, sinking slowly to the bottom of a lake in the middle of nowhere. Drowning almost seems peaceful, in a way. Once the final burn of water leaves, you drift. It’s a comfortable type of drifting. 

When my day started this morning, I didn’t think it’d end this way. The team and I were working on a case in Oak Creek Wisconsin. It was your typical case, bodies of young women were washing up on the shore of Lake Michigan. The M.O, however, wasn't drowning. All these women died from blunt-force trauma and then dumped in the lake. We figured the Unsub lived near the lake in some capacity because he was comfortable there. But we also knew that he wasn’t confident; he snuck up on these women. He either was too shy, or felt like he was too ugly to talk to them. Regardless, this case felt pretty cut and dry; especially when Garcia found his information quickly once we narrowed-down the suspect pool and we quickly went to pursue him at his remote cabin on the lake. 

We broke into two groups; Hotch, J.J, and Emily taking the front while Rossi, Morgan, Spencer and I took the back. Morgan leads the charge in the back as we clear rooms; calling out as we do so. Eventually we cleared the whole cabin, the Unsub nowhere to be found. Spencer and I decide to move out and search further into the backyard. If it were different circumstances, I’d say the view of the lake was beautiful. Aside from the garbage littering the grass and the various tools laying haphazard throughout the yard; it looked normal. We knew it was anything but. 

I didn’t get a lot of time to enjoy the view, as the Unsub bursts through the doors of the decrypted shed and runs towards the lake. Spencer draws his gun, shouting at the man to stop but I don’t hear him as I run past. I wasn’t going to let this coward run away. I tackle him into the lake, trying to detain him and pull him to shore. He was a lot stronger than I anticipated and we struggled; him throwing punches and curse words my way before dunking my head under the water. 

I emerge from the murky abyss a few times, but the Unsub doesn’t give me enough time to catch my breath before holding my head down again. It was when my lungs were burning that I heard the muffled bang of a gunshot, but I was already drifting into the darkness. I didn’t feel the Unsub’s lifeless body fall into the lake beside me, nor did I feel the arms of my colleague pulling me out. 

I embraced the darkness, it felt warm and comforting considering all the hell I’ve seen and experienced on this job. It was the exact opposite of what I thought death would feel like. I’ve heard Spencer describe death as a light; him retelling his traumatic encounter with Tobias Hankel. But this was mere darkness; like hiding under your blankets at night. 

I knew it wasn’t my time though. I still had so much left to do in the world; so many more people to save. So when I started to feel pressure on my chest, I knew it was Spencer performing CPR. What I didn’t know was that he was crying the entire time; begging me to come back. 

I cough violently, the water leaving my lungs and being replaced by air and I open my eyes, suddenly feeling so very cold. 

“Spencer?” My voice didn’t sound like mine, it sounded far away. 

“Thank god.” Spencer pulls me into his arms, warming me up completely from the chill of the abyss.