#bp angst hour

[robobarbie]

ROMANCE/ANGST. being the light of nightowl’s life, the most important person to this man, but being just as insecure as him, so when he starts interacting with a pretty person in the server you’re left there wondering if you’re really worthy of him. (i’m projecting again, i’m the anon who sent the nightowl deep dive 5 times, i really hope it doesn’t happen again😭)

side note (this is the most e-dating, discord, online relationship-ass prompt ever)

# general

--- mystic_pizza has joined the server ---

Quest Oh?

nightowl whoa! a new member???

lovelylola hello!!

two2 nice 2 meet u!!

mystic_pizza hehe, hi everyone <3

BIGLADY how'd you find the server? O_O

June Yeah, didn't @BloomBot disable invites?

BloomBot It was getting stale around here.

xyx LMAO

NakedToaster LMAO

salociN Hello ! Mystic Pizza !

onionthief "Stale". That's an opinion for sure.

nightowl ??

onionthief Would just like to know how BloomBot has decided our presence is "stale".

onionthief We've done nothing different, kept chatting at the same rate (I've checked), and always focused on the webnovel to a degree.

onionthief I don't understand how that's "stale".

NakedToaster bro just answered the question by speaking

xyx bro doesn't see what we see

onionthief What?

BIGLADY @mystic_pizza who's your favorite character?

mystic_pizza Damien. So easy.

nightowl oooooooo, mine too!!

nightowl why do u like him?

mystic_pizza i just think he's misunderstood... breakups aren't super straightforward a lot of the time, you know

nightowl I AGREEEEEEEEEE

mystic_pizza like, it's not even up for debate!!! people are just being rude to damien for no reason!!!

nightowl my god

nightowl where have you been...

June hahaha

mystic_pizza are selfies ok btw?

BIGLADY yeah!!

two2 hey bloombot wh y did u always allow selfies?

two2 isn't that like a personal ident thing or someth

--- BloomBot is now offline ---

two2 what..

xyx @mystic_pizza post face so we can read your aura

xyx i got them aura glasses on

NakedToaster that's just not a real thing

xyx wow

xyx post a selfie of yours then and let me read you

NakedToaster fine

NakedToaster

(pic from xiaeom)

NakedToaster read me bitch

xyx holy shit

xyx holy fucking shit

BIGLADY what do you see?? O-O

salociN A very handsome man !

June Salo!! Remember, toasty is NB!!

salociN Oh , my sincerest apologies . I'm still learning.

salociN A very handsome person .

NakedToaster fuck yeah salo, you are so right

xyx no no no. no. all of you, shut the fuck up.

xyx i see

xyx i see a person with

xyx with

xyx with no balls

NakedToaster motherfucker

BIGLADY that's not an aura reading...

xyx absolutely no balls in sight

BIGLADY @mystic_pizza!!!! WHERE'S THE SELFIE!!!!!

NakedToaster yeah xyx's time on earth is a little limited

xyx you'll never find me

mystic_pizza hehe, okay! <3

mystic_pizza

mystic_pizza that's me on th e right

nightowl omg i love ur smile!! so cute!!

BIGLADY agreed!!! U R RADIANT!!! <3

mystic_pizza awww, thank u!!! u are all so nice around here!!!

nightowl we just wanna make sure everyone has a good time u know?

nightowl and damien enjoyers must be protected!!!

mystic_pizza i agree!!

mystic_pizza ah, fixed my flair

nightowl OMG

nightowl U AND ME!!!

mystic_pizza U AND ME!!!! XD

nightowl do u wanna call rq?

two2 can i join?

nightowl YA!

mystic_pizza yea sure hehe

nightowl @lovelylola you wanna call too cutie?

June The "cutie" in chat again..

onionthief Please keep that to DMs.

nightowl blah blah blah

lovelylola i'm kinda tired, i think i'm gonna sleep

nightowl awww okay

nightowl i'll call u later!!

BIGLADY gnight lola!!!

Quest Rest well!

salociN Have sweet dreams !

lovelylola good night!

xyx holy fuck

xyx @mystic_pizza

mystic_pizza yes?

xyx your aura

xyx your aura is just

xyx it's like the color of a

xyx of a war crime

mystic_pizza huh?

NakedToaster i have ur new IP bitch

xyx FUCK

---------

you close the laptop and sigh. it's okay for nightowl to have fun and meet other people, it's just...

gah. mystic pizza's selfie wouldn't leave your head. they're so cute... and seem to pair up pretty well with nightowl. you're sure the call is just going too well... at least you're assured it won't go too far since two2 is there.

but that's barely a reassurance. nightowl doesn't hesitate to flirt when he wants to, regardless of who's around.

you thrum your fingers on the desk and gnaw on your bottom lip. should you actually join the call? no, then you'd look insecure. do you already look insecure? is everyone wondering if nightowl likes mystic pizza more than you?

you look down at your frumpy clothes with a tired expression. ugh. maybe it's okay for him to flirt, if he wants to. this is what he's stuck with after all. who wouldn't want to flirt with someone who looks like that?

you try to ignore the pang in your chest as you stand up and get ready for bed.

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

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

LOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

[ellieinink]

Between Life and Love

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Drama, Romance

Warnings: Graphic depictions of medical trauma, surgery scenes, emotional distress, major angst with comfort elements

Word Count: ~12,000+

Synopsis: When trauma surgeon Baek Kang-hyuk is forced to operate on the one person he can't lose, his carefully controlled world shatters. As you fight to survive, he faces a different battle—one that has nothing to do with medicine and everything to do with his heart.

Baek Kang-hyuk had long since mastered the art of detachment. It was a necessity in his line of work. Trauma surgeons didn't have the luxury of hesitation, of emotions clouding their judgment. The moment a patient was wheeled in, they became a case—a puzzle to be solved, a life to be saved. Nothing more.

It was the only way to survive in this field.

But all of that training, all of the carefully constructed walls he had built around himself, shattered the second he saw you.

The emergency room was a symphony of urgency—shouts, hurried footsteps, the shrill beeping of monitors tracking vitals that were rapidly plummeting. Kang-hyuk had barely stepped into the trauma bae when Jang-mi's voice cut through the noise.

"GSW to the abdomen, severe hemorrhaging—pressure dropping fast!"

Her voice was sharp, professional, but there was something in it that wasn't usually there. A crack in the mask she always wore.

And then he saw why.

His world narrowed, everything around him dissolving into static.

Blood. So much blood. Seeping through your clothing, pooling onto the gurney, staining the hands of the paramedics desperately trying to keep pressure on the wound.

And you.

Pale. Unconscious. Broken in a way that made something in him fracture.

He was moving before his mind could catch up, shoving past residents and nurses, gripping on the edge of the stretcher like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

No. No, no, no.

"Shit," Park Gyeong-won muttered, checking your vitals. "BP's tanking—60 over 40. We need to get her into surgery now."

Kang-hyuk barely registered the words. His entire body felt like it was on autopilot, his brain screaming at him to do something.

Then—

"Kang-hyuk."

It was barely a whisper. A breath. But it cut through him like a blade.

Your eyes fluttered open—just barely—but you were looking at him. Your fingers twitched like you were trying to reach for him, but you were too weak.

His hands trembled. His chest was too tight, his pulse roaring in his ears.

"I'm here," he forced out, his voice hoarse, raw. He grabbed your hand, pressing it against his, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. "You're going to be okay."

A lie. He never made promises in trauma cases. But this was you. He couldn't lose you.

"Number one, you're assisting," he snapped, snapping back into focus. His voice was steel, his mask sliding into place. "Gangster, let's move. Now."

This wasn't just another surgery.

This was war.

And he would fight with everything he had.

The operating room was cold, sterile. A stark contrast to the burning panic in Kang-hyuk's chest.

"She's coding!"

Dr. Park's voice was sharp, cutting through the haze threatening to consume him.

"V-fib—starting compressions!"

Kang-hyuk's world blurred. His grip on the scalpel was ironclad, his knuckles white as he forced himself to focus. Breathe. Focus. Fix this.

Jae-won worked swiftly beside him, suctioning blood away. "Entry wound is deep—bullet's lodged near the liver. We need to—"

"She's crashing again!"

The defibrillator whined as it charged.

Not like this. Not her.

"Clear!"

Your body jolted. The monitor flatlined.

Kang-hyuk's stomach lurched.

"Clear!"

Another jolt. Another agonizing second of silence—

Then—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A heartbeat. Weak, but there.

Kang-hyuk exhaled sharply, his hands resuming their work with precision. Focus. Fix what's broken.

"Bullet's out," he said, voice strained. "Starting repairs."

The OR was a battlefield, and Kang-hyuk refused to lose.

Time lost meaning.

Hours passed in a blur of sutures, transfusions, whispered prayers between each stitch.

And then—

"She's stabilizing," Jang-mi breathed.

A ragged breath left Kang-hyuk's chest. His hands, stained with your blood, trembled as he stepped back.

His body ached. His scrubs were drenched in sweat. But none of that mattered.

You were alive.

For now, that was enough.

Pain. That was the first thing you registered. A dull, throbbing ache beneath layers of numbness.

Then—warmth. A hand. Familiar, steady.

Your lashes fluttered. The hospital room swam into focus. And there, slumped over the side of your bed, gripping your hand like a lifeline—

Baek Kang-hyuk.

His face was etched with exhaustion. Dark circles beneath his eyes, tension lining every inch of his frame. But he was there.

"Hey," you rasped, your throat dry.

His eyes snapped open instantly.

Relief. Raw, unguarded, washing over his face in waves.

"You scared the hell out of me," he muttered.

A weak smile tugged at your lips. "Guess I like keeping you on your toes."

His jaw clenched. His grip on your hand tightened, just slightly.

"Don't. Ever. Do that again."

You wanted to tease him. To joke. But there was something in his voice—something fragile.

So instead, you squeezed his fingers.

"I'm still here," you whispered.

His shoulders sagged. And for the first time since that night, Kang-hyuk breathed.

Days turned into weeks. Your wounds healed, but the scars—both seen and unseen—remained.

And yet, so did Kang-hyuk.

He was there for every painful step. Every long, sleepless night. Every moment of doubt.

One evening, as he sat beside you, his fingers tracing absent patterns against your wrist, you finally asked, "Why are you still here?"

His hand stilled.

Then, he looked at you. Really looked at you.

"Because," he murmured, "I almost lost you."

Your heart stuttered.

"And that made me realize..." He exhaled, his fingers brushing against yours. "I don't want a life where you're not in it."

Tears pricked your eyes.

"Kang-hyuk..."

But before you could speak, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against your fingers.

And in that moment, you knew.

He had saved your life.

But you had always been the one saving his.

This is one of the longest that I've written... Send in requests for Baek Kang-hyuk, Yang Jae-won or Park Gyeong-won!!! Also, I might start writing for juji as well!!!

taglist: perm @missroro @study-with-reine234 @redhoodedtoad

[kastlequill]

iv/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus alternans

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 2.3k synopsis: the fourth and final time you save gaz tags: whumptober, angst, gunshot wounds, feelings realization, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: near death experiences, war ao3: read here ← prev | next →

IV.

As a medic, you could only do so much. 

Stitching together sliced skin, surgically removing bullets from traumatized flesh, administering first aid in the field—all within your skill range. Hell, even resuscitating a still-warm, newly-dead body was possible on special occasions. But you were neither God nor Death, so you couldn’t breathe life into the expired corpse of a friend, nor was it your place to hold a scalpel to the jugular of a foe. 

These mortal limitations weren’t to blame for the horrors that would unfold during the coming hours, however. The true crime committed there was your complacency. 

You had grown accustomed to setting broken noses and relaxing muscle spasms, to staring into dilated pupils and realigning dislocated joints. With every passing day of relative calm, your worries gradually waned; and with every successful surgery, your easy confidence grew. Not one soldier had coded on your operating table, and not one soldier had succumbed to their injuries whilst under your care. 

A random Thursday brought about the end of your pristine record. 

Getting paged for an emergency surgery in the dead of night wasn’t anything new; sleep was a luxury few could afford out here, medics least of all. The days when you struggled waking to the sound of your pager were now a tiny speck in the rearview mirror of your professional career. 

So the pager itself wasn’t the reason you were currently attempting to shove your trembling feet into a pair of boots, not bothering to untie the laces, ignoring the way your heel uncomfortably rubbed against the firm backend material. Rather, you were sprinting to the medbay because of the three chilling words you’d read on its display:

Bravo. Critical. STAT. 

Once you arrived, shit really started to hit the fan. 

The place looked as though a bomb had gone off. Two nurses were situating a limp masculine figure onto a gurney, skillfully sticking electrodes along his chest and hooking the wires up to a nearby monitor-on-wheels to display his vital signs. Meanwhile, three technicians tried to restrain a hulking mass of skull-faced muscle. Not far behind was the familiar mohawk of the Scotsman, with whom Captain Price was solemnly exchanging words. Which left one key member of the Bravo Team unaccounted for:

Gaz. Kyle.

You swallowed the panic that threatened to make itself known. Losing your cool would accomplish nothing except disrupt your focus and double the stakes. 

“Report,” you demanded, rushing to the PPE station to don a pair of surgical gloves and tighten a mask around your face. 

Next to you, the lead nurse grabbed hold of Gaz’s forearm and inserted a needle into his most prominent vein. “27-year-old male admitted six minutes ago with BP of 63/47, unconscious. Almost finished setting up the IV line.”

“He got lit up. Five shots made contact by our count,” Ghost interjected, voice gruff and posture unapologetically looming. “Maybe more.”

Too preoccupied with analyzing your patient’s current state and authorizing the nurse to administer a milligram of epinephrine, the words registered as little more than white noise, reduced to ‘five shots’. You cradled the nape of Gaz’s neck, carefully leaning him forward to hike up the bottom edge of his blood-soaked, tattered shirt. Trained eyes searched for exit wounds marring the expanse of his back and isolated a lone hole in his right shoulder before lowering him. 

“What happened?”

The captain rubbed a hand down his face, and you couldn’t help noticing how tired the man seemed. “Exfil went sideways. Gaz got the worst of it, I’m afraid. Nasty hit to the shoulder, see, but ’least that one went straight through. The others, not so much. Four points of entry across his abdomen—”

You unclipped a penlight from your coat pocket and shined it into the fallen soldier’s eyes, gently lifting his lids with your thumb. The size of his pupils remained unchanged, unresponsive to the stimulus.

“—no exits.”

That earned a grimace from you; always did, always would. One of your first interactions with Gaz involved you excising a bullet from his leg, but abdominal gunshot wounds were plenty worse. The fact several small pellets of lethal lead were still inside him, possibly embedded in organs vital for sustaining life, spelled disaster.

Fingertips pressed against the cold skin of his inner wrists, you were dismayed to feel his pulse hasten yet gradually lose strength. Your pinched gaze lifted in supplication to the heart monitor, desperation verging on belief, praying a merciful god might will the EKG line to stabilize. 

Instead, it went flat. 

A flurry of frantic alerts pouring from the monitor drowned out any and all other sounds. The grand scale of the universe seemed obsolete as each of your five senses honed in on this singular instance. 

“Code Blue!” you yelled, recovering fast. Someone reached to cut open Gaz’s shirt while you situated your right palm on the center of his chest and covered it with your left, fingers clasping the hand beneath. “Starting chest compressions at approximately zero one-hundred hours. Charge the defibrillator to 200 joules for the initial shock.”

Above him, elbows locked and pressure severe, you initiated CPR. Trying your damnedest to mute the surrounding whirlwind of chaos, to not be shaken by the sight of Gaz so motionless, so unlike the suave SAS sergeant who had burrowed into the cavity of your being. 

Two paddles emerged from your peripheral and settled firmly under his left pec and to the right of his sternum. “200 joules. Clear!”

You stepped back, arms raised, watching his torso jerk off the gurney in tandem with a spike in the EKG. His body then dropped onto the padding below, and the line descended to null once again. 

The current coursing through him had barely subsided when you resumed delivering compressions. His ribs began to crack during the second set, but you kept the same pace and depth for the full two-minutes. 

What did a few broken ribs matter if it meant he’d return to his brothers-in-arms? 

To you?

“300 joules. Clear!”

Like a dormant spore reawakened by a drop in defenses, fear unfurled within your gut, its noxious fumes suffocating you from the inside-out. The defibrillator capped at 360 joules, and if that wasn’t enough to restart the electrical activity of his heart, then—

A nearly inaudible blip from the monitor broke through your train of thought before it had the chance to spiral any further. The blip morphed into a series of beeps, which slowly but surely climbed to a less-concerning rate. 

Your shoulders slackened, caving inward as your lungs expelled a heavy sigh of relief. 

Gaz was alive. In critical condition and soon to be rushed into emergency surgery, yes, but alive. Which was more than could be said five minutes ago.

Thinking the worst had passed, Ghost crowded around the bed, jostling several of your colleagues in the process of attempting to catch a better look at his incapacitated teammate. He paid no heed to the toes on which he stepped, or the shoulders with which his own collided.

When it came to men like the 141, relinquishing even an inch of authority was as good as allowing them to take over the whole damn lot. True, they might be used to calling the shots out in a warzone, but, here, you had the final say. 

“I won’t have your lieutenant scaring my staff shitless, Captain,” was your one and only warning. “Handle him, or I will.”

The other sergeant, Soap, had the decency to appear chastised, ducking his head a tad. In different circumstances, you‘d even appreciate the fierce loyalty on display for the man you both regarded highly. 

Just not when it came at the expense of properly doing your job.

“We’ll take it from here.”

Based on the slight laxing of their stances, there would be no further protests. Regardless, no amount of posturing or glaring would’ve deterred you; at this point, anything unrelated to Gaz had no hope of receiving even a morsel of your attention. 

Two technicians seized the gurney and rolled it in the direction of the operating room, the lead nurse with her portable monitor trailing close behind. You followed your team to the sinks, where you then scrubbed and scrubbed until you were finally ready to cross the threshold into the sterile field. 

There, everything awaited you; a metal tray, a fresh set of surgical tools, and two units of B-negative blood hanging from a transfusion stand. At the middle of the OR was Gaz, resting on the table, covered in green drapes, illuminated by bright overhead lights. And as you stared down at him, at the dewy breaths fogging up his oxygen mask, a comforting sign of life, you found yourself confronted by a terrifying realization:

All that stood between you and someday loving this man was time. 

The surgery, to its credit, went relatively smoothly. Meaning, the patient didn’t go into hemorrhagic shock on your table, and you managed to dig out the four bullets still lodged in his viscera. One lodged between his lower left ribs, though luckily not deep enough to damage the vital organs beneath; another two along his intestinal tract; and the last mere centimeters from his mildly-lacerated liver. 

It hadn’t been pretty, but Sergeant Garrick would survive with only scars to remind him of the moment he died and crawled back to the land of the living. 

“Alright,” the strain in your voice bringing hours of inner turmoil to the surface, “good work, everyone. Let’s sew him shut and reset shop for tomorrow morning.”

You vomited the moment you stepped outside the infirmary. 

The wave of nausea that accompanied the night’s must had you doubling over and gripping both knees to support yourself against the force of the retching. With no food in your stomach to purge, there was just the sting of acid rushing up your esophagus and then clear liquid dribbling down your chin. It shouldn’t have gone on for as long as it did, but each time you recalled how the sergeant’s usually rich and lively complexion had looked so ashen in the fluorescence of the OR, that sick feeling returned with a vengeance. 

When the chain-puking finally abated, you straightened your spine and wiped the grime off your mouth with the back of your hand. Not yet an hour prior, that same hand had held a scalpel to the hole-ridden flesh of the man whose smile could easily give way to your own, even on worser days. Days like today. 

Only this time, he couldn’t take the pain away. This time, it was your turn to ease his ache.

You swiveled around until your body faced the medtent, gravel crackling and crunching beneath your boots at the sudden movement. As if they had a mind of their own, your feet carried you right back to him, one in front of the other in a quick, almost frenzied succession. 

Inside, the lights had dimmed to a faint glow. A heart monitor hooked up to electrodes on his chest translated rhythmic contractions into a steady stream of beeps, and the sound echoed through your mind like a macabre metronome. He laid unmoving on a cot, exactly how you’d left him; Sergeant Garrick wasn’t the type to disobey an order, whether consciously or unconsciously received, not even in his sleep.

Then maybe I should’ve ordered him not to get shot up full of lead, you mused with a wry, half-hearted chuckle. Or fall out of helicopters.

No, it’d be wrong to ask of him the impossible. Selfish to demand he treat his body as more than an enlisted weapon, unfair to make him swear never to show up half-dead at your door again. In the same vein as asking you to take lunch breaks longer than five minutes, to not work yourself to the bone despite the omnipresent queue of wounded men and women in need of medical attention. Not unreasonable requests, just unrealistic for occupations built on too much blood and too little time. 

So while you couldn’t very well expect the man to compromise the job to which he’d dedicated the whole of his existence, you could control your proximity to said man. A comet was best admired from afar, where its flaming tail looked beautiful rather than damning, and where its inevitable dissolution occurred beyond your field of view.

You needed to put an end to this thing while it was still in your power to do so. You needed to nip whatever feelings you carried for Kyle Garrick in the bud, lest they bloomed beyond management. 

But that could wait. For now, he was simply an indisposed soldier requiring your medical oversight—no more, no less. He was Sergeant Garrick of the 141, not the man capable of turning faulty moments into fond memories and easy shifts into emotional shit-shows. Just a patient entering the next stage of his recovery.

And there wasn’t any harm in holding a recovering patient’s hand, you reasoned.  

With that, you dragged a foldable plastic chair to rest beside him, settled down into the uncomfortable stiffness of its seat, and gently reached for his bandaged fist. Carefully extending his fingers, gently grazing your palm against his. Familiarizing yourself with the callouses there, the skin that had torn open and grown back thicker, stronger time after time until, one day, it could bear the very worst of the world without demanding ichor be spilled. Memorizing the feeling of warmth and weight, tracing the loops and whorls etched into his fingertips, never to again be found in another. 

No harm at all. 

tbc.

[jebewonmorelike]

Good Luck, Mickey!

wc: 1k warnings: a pretty flirtatious little joke made by ricky... do you need to be warned of that? maybe if you have a weak heart. otherwise very very light angst and fluff. pronouns: none used; n/a summary: planetmaster/idol!reader and their boyfriend ricky have to pretend they don't know each other while the cameras are on ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ this was a request! it's short and sweet but fun. i might want to expand more on this one eventually. spending tonight rewatching bp after work :,)

Positioning yourself in the wing of the stage strategically, you lean forward just a bit so you can take a look from behind the curtain at the crowd of unsuspecting trainees lined up after completing their second mission.

You spot a head of perfectly styled blonde hair sticking out from the group almost immediately due to the height of its owner. Smiling to yourself, you hop up and down a bit to pump yourself up. You can't wait to see the look on your boyfriend's face when you step out onto the stage.

The lights dim quickly, then flash dramatically back on as a producer gives you the go ahead. You nod respectfully and steady yourself as you begin to make your way out from behind the curtain and to the center of the stage. The boys gathered in front of you in neat formations begin to scramble excitedly; shouting and jumping with enthusiasm as you step towards the front of the stage.

Your eyes find Ricky, who is standing completely still as he stares up at you in shock-- not knowing how to react properly to your presence. Some of his teammates are poking him and laughing, teasing him about your unexpected appearance as a Planet Master.

You had met Ricky a while ago when he joined your company as a trainee. You would run into each other in the hallways at night, as you were always in a practice room trying to improve even after your debut. He could be uncharacteristically shy around you, since you were his senior (and he was secretly such a big fan). Needless to say, Ricky was incredibly surprised when you were the one who eventually asked him out.

"Hello Boys Planet trainees! I'm leader and main vocalist (Y/N) from Virtual Reality," you announce confidently. "I know you've only just finished your Second Mission, but time is limited when you're forming the next big K-Pop boy group!"

Most of the trainees begin another uproar, some complaining that they're exhausted and some shouting for you to hurry up and announce the next mission already. You sympathize with both sets of emotions.

You glance at Ricky, who is now smirking at you from the crowd-- eyebrows raised as he chews his cheek. Fighting the urge to grin back at him winningly, your eyes return to your script card in your hand.

"The Third Mission is..." You look back at the screen behind you and gesture towards it as a new pair of words appear. “Artist Battle!"

Yet another commotion ensues and you suddenly understand why the boys kept losing their voices in the first two missions. As you finish your script, announcing that teams will be formed and then re-formed after eliminations, you're instructed to meet and greet the trainees and give them your well wishes.

After a half hour of greeting all of the contestants and having to pretend like you'd never met any of them before in your life, an especially familiar contestant strolls up to you.

"Hello, how are you?" Ricky greets formally as a few of the trainees he is closest with giggle behind him. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Hi, how are you?" You return, extending your hand for him to shake as you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing in front of the staff. "What did you say your name was?"

"Ricky," he replies, taking your hand in his and shaking it firmly. "And your name is?"

You squeeze his hand hard, raising your eyebrows in a stern warning. Too far, you mouth.

"Ow!" He whines before looking around to smile nervously at the closely observing staff. "I mean, WOW that joke did not land! Of course I know who you are. I love you."

You pinch his hand harder.

"--R WORK! I love your work," Ricky corrects after your warning, but the mischievous glint is still in his eyes. "I'm a big fan of your entire body of work."

Zhang Hao and Kuan Jui have to excuse themselves as they burst into laughter, running out into the hall to (most likely) tell everyone what Ricky just said with cameras rolling.

Ricky smiles at you smugly and you finally drop his hand. A producer frowns at you both confusedly. "Do you two... know each other or something?"

Ricky shakes his head. "Where would I have met the leader and main vocalist of Virtual Reality before?"

The producer nods, shrugging in agreement. "Huh. You just have good chemistry is all."

"He's not my type," you reply coolly, eyes narrowing as you glare at your boyfriend.

"Hey," Ricky pouts softly; a little frown forming on his lips.

You fight the urge to lift up on your toes and give your tall, handsome boyfriend a peck, opting instead to pat him on the shoulder and give him a boastful grin. "It was nice to meet you, Nicky!"

His eyebrows furrow now, the adorable pout growing deeper (and more powerful). "It's Ricky."

"Good luck, Mickey!" You call over your shoulder with a wave, following two staff members out the door.

~

Walking through the empty hall to the back parking lot after you've finished removing your wardrobe and makeup in your dressing room, you see your favorite trainee (okay-- your second favorite trainee. Red House Mingyu is actually your favorite but you can NOT tell Ricky that) waiting for you in the doorway.

"Hey Nicky," you greet with a laugh as Ricky looks up from his phone.

"Stoooooop," he whines, basically collapsing in your arms as you hug him. Into your shoulder, he mumbles, "I am your type."

You kiss his cheek, rubbing his back comfortingly. "You totally are my type.”

"I can't believe you're hosting the show I'm on," he says, pulling back from the hug to look at you. "You told me you were getting the cats bathed today."

You throw your head back in a laugh. "Cats don't get bathed, lovey."

He laughs awkwardly. “Oh."

"I thought that was such an obvious lie that you'd catch on!" You exclaim, grabbing his hand in yours and swinging them back and forth playfully.

Ricky looks around, checking if any staff are lingering in the hallway before swinging open the door and pulling you through.

"Where do you think you're going?" You ask with a giggle as Ricky pulls you towards your car.

"To get ramen with you," he replies with a smile, raising your hand in his above your head so he can twirl you around.

You spin around with a grin, bowing after the impromptu dance move before he continues to pull you along. You watch as his pretty, dangly earring jingles while he runs.

"Fine," you relent with a grin. "But you're gonna have to buy me a lot of ramen to make up for that body joke."

[kaleaido]

So... episode 16 huh?

Okay guys, what the FUCK WASTHATTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111!1! that was. wow. oh my god. wow. okay I need to sit down. I'll be doing the bullet point breakdown again cause my thoughts are everywhere:

THE ANIMATION IS PHENOMENAL??? The art in general is AWESOME ii2 always had really fluid and cinematic animation imo but GOD this is such eye candy

Seeing the III contestants ISFUCKING SCARY I DIDN'T THINK WE'D GET TO SEE THEM AT ALL??? I THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA BE MENTIONED??? They look soo weird in the old art style but this is cool I like it

okay I did NOT expect Taco to be doing her apology thing so early BUT OH MY GOD????// THE ENCOUNTER IS EVERYTHING I FEARED BUT IT WAS SO GOOD EVEN WITH THE SHORT TIME SPAN OHGUEAHGH......PICKLE........SORRY BUT I WAS CHEERING FOR HIM HE KIND OF ATE THAT UP........... AND THE PART WHERE HE FUCKING DIED AND TACO WAS CRYIGN?!?@!@KASJKADSDJWHATTHE FUCK WAS THAT. WHAT TWAS THAT BRIAN. BRAIN. WHAT. I thought they were having a fight or something but NOOOIT WAS WAY WAYWAY WORSE. HELLO???? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL ABOUT THIS . Actually! I'm not feeling okay. I don't like this.

II SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A MUSICAL WHATT!!! Steve Cobs song certainly was not on my bingo card but here we are. hate that guy but man he got a good voice

I'm digging the payjay angst but I didn't think that was a segue TO KILL OJ?????WHY WAS THAT SCENE SO GOOD. I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH IT WAS HORRIFYING!!! THE ENTIRE SEQUENCE OF MEPHONEX APPROACHING THE CONTESTANTS WASSOASHDGHWAHWASHJD But real talk, does this imply that Toilet was created by Mephone in some ways???

Hi guys I'm actually not okay with us seeing characters that are in pairs be separated. Mm yeah. OJ, Soap, Nickle. Yeah. I'm not okay that they spent the episode showing these characters hanging with their friends only for them to die. Yeah.I'm not okay seeing their friends being in complete shock of what just happened. Yeah. Mh yeah.........

THE HAUNTED MANSION GUYS ARE BACK YAYYY!!!!! and they were roomates <3 (dough i hope you die the second time)

Knife and Suitcase interactions are so well written I can't get over them. Also the way both of them handle 3GS isSOOEUAHGH I lovee 3GS

Knife and Trophy. Need I say more

Suitcase, Nickel and Balloon. Need I say more

Steven Cobs is horrible I hate him but he was also the most entertaining character in this. Him putting Mephone on speaker phone isEVIL I HATE HIM!!!!!! also never realised that he was so egotistical to name his products with "Me" in them that's such Steve Cobs things

THE PLOTTWIST IS SO. DEVASTING. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT FOR HOURS NOW. SO YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT MEPHONE WAS JUST ROLEPLAYING WITH HIS OCS????? SERIOUSLY???? This just makes so much sense but it's also so horrible. like how many of the stuff tthat contestants did was intentional??? Is this why Bot was one of Mephone's favorite contestants? because they were "real"???

Also quick thing but I just hopped off from Brian's stream just now and he said something along the line of how BP is the opposite of Steve Cobs. Which just makes me wonder if like. did Mephone ALSO make BP??? Did he make someone he could look up to as a healthy father figure??? This is making me insane

yeah my brain is absolutely jumbled right now. if anyone still want to yap on about ii16 hit my dm please I still don't know how to feel about this act. LIKE YEAH It's awesome I love it but wow......is the emotional damage really worth it....

[isacksteban]

Boypussy bezz?? We can tell me about boypussy bezz 🥺🥺🥺🥺? Pretty pleaseeee

so im actually SO INSANE ABOUT BP!BEZ.

i thought abt it yesterday but we all know i cant be normal about anything so.

we all know how pathetic and whiney people make normal rpf bez. double that and give it to bp!bez.

BUT ALSO "fem"dom bp!bez? yeah.

idk if it'd be more ftm!bez or omega!bez or intersex!bez but really id eat anything up

realistically he wouldnt shave, i just cant see it, he'd either be neatly trimmed or maybe in the summer a lil bikini wax? all ik is he'd definitely keep that pussy clean 🙏

i feel like how he'd act during sex would all depend on the person fucking him

in my head bp!bez is very different from the bez i usually write (pathetic)

that pussy is MAGIC.

with someone like vale he would definitely be more of a pillow princess (ik thats a wlw term but i have no idea how else to explain it... vale is doing all the work!) like after bez is done seducing him thats all the work he's doing, now he just lays there looking pretty (both him and his pussy looking pretty) and lets vale do whatever he wants to him

i feel like if pecco was to be with bp!bez it would be different though, a lot more 50/50 and with them i just imagine it being a lot more intimate and emotional? just bc theyre so close any angst or toxicity would ruin me

then with cele i feel like bez would be more like the one in charge, more fucking himself onto cele, taking the lead, but still somewhat intimate/emotional just not as much as with pecco? (i havent really written or read a lot about them so... this is just based off of what ive seen and my rotting brain)

but marc? he'd ruin marc. im always writing cum-drunk bez but no. pussy-drunk marc. when i tell you bp!bez has marc wrapped around his finger i mean it. marc would sit there for hours and let bez use him, riding him, telling him what to do, how to touch him, how to fuck him, how to eat him, yeah he'd do it all. you dont have to ask him twice. how could he say no to a pussy that perfect?? hed have to be insane.

but it could also be a genderbend bez, maybe a genderbend everyone shit 🤕

im not really sure where im going with this im just writing down everything that comes to mind

[jxmis]

Wish You Were Sober

Pairings: Rosé Park x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Roseanne Park have been best-friends for years now. Having finished wrapping up your show before blackpink's last performance at Coachella, you decide to show your support and fly out to LA and watch them. But maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Not after the events that had happened after the afterparty. Everything has changed. (sorry i suck at doing summaries)

Warning(s): angst

A/N: a lil inspiration by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray. Soooo I'm having major pcd after seeing BP last saturday soo decided to write for my bias wrecker. I literally just thought and wrote of this a few hours ago. Same with the picture T_T. I also have been writing jennie, lisa, and chaewon fics. Posting whichever I get done first after this one! Enjoy! :)

Rosanne Park isn't usually one to party hard. She isn’t the usual person to get wasted either. It's rare for that to happen.

But as they wrapped up their final night headlining Coachella, a party was thrown for their successful two shows. Being the first k-pop act and girl group to headline, making history! Of course, she had to live it up.

However, one shot became two, three, and even taking a couple sips of margarita. Those who are close to Rosé know that she doesn't have a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. She's a lightweight.

You being a lot more responsible and smart, only took a few sips of your alcoholic beverage. You handle your liquor pretty well.

You see Rosé's manager trying to talk some sense into her but it seems as Rosé is being stubborn. You sigh, you approach them. Jane looks at you with a pleading look, you nod and gesture for her to go. She silently thanks you, softly patting Rosé's cheek before leaving.

"C'mon, Chae, you've had too much to drink." You carefully and softly put hand behind her back. Rosé shakes her head in protest.

"Y/N/NNN!!! Nooooo 'm havin sooo much funn!" She slurs. She leans against your shoulder, resting her head on it. She looks at you a smile bright on her face, bringing the glass close to you. "Have some! It's sooo good!" You take the beverage away from her hand causing her to pout.

"We're leaving, Chae. You've had your fun. Time for you to rest." Despite her protest, you drag her out of the party. She eventually quits whining and resisting. She sulks instead. "You'll thank me in the morning for this." You offer her support which she gladly takes as she's walking. She's so drunk to the point that she can't even walk straight.

You thankfully arrive back to Rosé's place safely. You did your very best to cover up Chae from the horde of paparazzies as you leave the party. Your bodyguard and Rosé's, as well as her manager using flashlights to ruin their photos.

--------

You look after Rosé. Even when the aftereffects of drinking so much alcohol led her to throw up. You help sooth her by holding her hair and caressing her back. Letting her know you're there and not going anywhere. As soon as you saw her hand on her stomach and a grimace on her face, you knew. You’re quite thankful you were able to get her to her room and rush her into the bathroom.

"It's okay, Chae. I've got you," you say softly. A minute goes by after Rosé seem to have let it all out. You clean up her face and begin her night time routine. You've slept over a good amount of times to have memorized it all. You help her brush her teeth and awkwardly had to help her change into pajamas. It wasn't easy doing that second part with your eyes close. But to your surprise, she was very compliant.

You are so focus on helping her, making sure she's okay that you didn't notice how quiet she's been. "Hey.. you okay?" You say as she settles on her bed. That's when it hit Rosé. Tears starts to pour down her eyes. You panic. You forgot how emotional she gets after everything when she gets drunk. It's been awhile since you've done this. You quickly sit next to her. "What wrong? Don't cry, Chae. It's okay! You're safe."

She sits up and clings onto you. You wrap your arms around her, rubbing her back. First, she repeatedly apologizes. "Thank you for always being there for me and taking care of me, Y/N/N." She says in a hush tone still clinging tightly onto you.

Even though she can't see you, you smile. "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. You were just having fun and you deserve to have fun. You know I'll always be here when you're in need." You pull away, bringing your hands on her cheeks, wiping her tears away. "Even if it's having to watch you throw up and clean you up after." You both laugh at that. You smile triumphally at your success on making her laugh.

You move a strand of hair out of her face. Wiping the tears that still remain on her cheeks. Meanwhile, Rosé's eyes remain on you. You notice. The mood suddenly changes in the room. The way Rosé is looking at you... it's different than usual. Maybe you've seen it once in a while whenever you two hung out before. But you always thought you were being delusional. A look that holds so much feelings, unspoken ones.

You see her mouth move but nothing comes out. She closes it and suddenly you see her eyes move to your lips. It catches you off guard. Trying to take it all in, you then feel her lips touching yours. It takes you a minute to process everything. Coming to your senses, you quickly pull away. Rosé opens her eyes. She can see the shock and confusion on your face.

"Chae... what are you.. what are you doing?"

She swallows the lump on her throat. What is she doing? It felt right though. "I- I don't- I don't know." Rosé manages to stutter out, trying to keep her tears at bay. "I just- I thought- Oh god, I'm so sorry." She covers her mouth, surprise with her actions as well.

You get up from her bed and run your hands through your hair. A million thoughts going through your head. Rosé watches you just standing there, stressed out. Now, she's really full on crying. What had she done? She ruined everything. You let out a deep sigh, "Its okay.. it's okay, you're drunk. Under the influence. It was the alcohol in you. Just- Just get some rest, Chae." You hesitantly approach her and kiss her head. "Good night."

"I like you!" Rosé calls out as you're heading towards the door. You freeze. "I like you so much, Y/N. For so long now. The alcohol coursing through my veins just gave me the courage to finally do something about it. So, please stay." She begs.

Silence fills the room after Rosé's confession. There's no way all this time, Roseanne Park, your best-friend has had a crush on you. You sure would've notice if she did... right? She'd never showed any signs that she had romantic feelings for you. You know her like the back of your hand! This is all because she's under the influence. That's all. She's just saying crazy things.

Without looking back, You bow your head down. "That's real sweet, but I wish you were sober," you whisper out. With that, you leave the sobbing blonde's room, silently hoping she heard you. Maybe even remember all of this in the morning. You doubt it.

"But I really do," Rosé says softly, the tone of her voice so sincere... fragile.

[hyunjiiniw]

*ੈ✩ (현진)

HATING YOU

when your high school enemy turns up at your hospital with severe injuries.

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✩ enemy!hyunjin fem!reader ONESHOT,enemies to lovers,open-ending,angst,fluff,comfort,romantic,cute, issues,memories and nostalgia.

✩ hyunjiniw’s note decided to spice up things a little bit,did way too many best friend hyunjin,had to make at least an enemy one,many more to come but tell me how you feel about this one and the change,hope you’ll like it and enjoy it! school is kicking my ass that’s why i am really late with the updates.

✩ happy reading to you <3

You're used to long shifts. Used to the sterile scent of disinfectant, the beeping of machines, the sight of blood staining your gloves. Patients come and go-some grateful, some barely coherent, most of them forgettable. You never thought he would be one of them.

But when the ER doors burst open and the paramedics wheel in a battered patient, the world seems to shift.

"Male, early twenties. Multiple lacerations, possible rib fracture. BP dropping-"

And then you see his face.

Hyunjin.

Your fingers tighten around your clipboard as his name echoes in your mind like a ghost from a past you thought you'd buried. Even with his face swollen, with dried blood on his temple, you'd recognize him anywhere. The sharp jawline, the dark lashes fluttering against his cheek, the stupidly perfect features.

For a second, you don't move. You don't breathe. Then, training kicks in, and you snap back into action.

"Get him to Room 3, now."

You don't have time to process the emotions clawing at your chest as you follow the stretcher, pushing past nurses, your hands steady even when your heart isn't.

This isn't high school. This isn't a petty rivalry over test scores or stolen glances across the library. This is real life.

And right now, Hyunjin is fighting for his.

After two hours

He wakes up slowly, Groggy. Disoriented.

The heart monitor beeps steadily beside him, a constant reminder that he's still here.

You stand by his bedside, arms crossed. "Well, look who decided to live."

His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, before settling on you. His lips twitch into something almost amused.

"Didn't think I'd run into you like this, doc." His voice is hoarse, laced with exhaustion, but that damn cockiness is still there.

You scoff. "Trust me, I didn't sign up for this elther."

You should leave. You've done your part. He's stable now. But your feet remain rooted to the floor, as if some invisible thread is holding you there.

Hyunjin watches you, his gaze softer than you remember. It's unnerving. The last time you saw him, he was rolling his eyes at you in the school hallway, throwing sarcastic remarks your way as you fought over who got the last available seat in the library.

Now he's lying in a hospital bed, bruised and broken, looking at you like he doesn't know what to say.

“...You're a doctor now." His voice is quieter this time, almost like he's realizing it for the first time.

"No shit." You gesture at your white coat. "Observant as ever."

A breath of laughter escapes him, but it's cut short by a wince. His hand Instinctively moves to his ribs, pain flashing across his face.

You sigh. "Don't move too much. You've got bruised ribs, two stitches on your forehead, and a mild concussion."

"Fun."

You roll your eyes. Same old Hyunjin.

Silence settles between you, but it isn't the comfortable kind. It's thick with unspoken words, memories neither of you have acknowledged in years.

Finally, you break it. "What happened to you?"

He hesitates. Then shrugs. "Wrong place, wrong time."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

Of course. He's always been like this- guarded, unwilling to show weakness. It's frustrating, but you let it go. For now.

Instead, you exhale, rubbing your temples. "I can't believe I'm the one stuck taking care of you."

"Yeah?" His lips curl into something that resembles a smirk. "You hated me that much?"

You open your mouth to respond-but the words don't come.

Because did you hate him?

Sure, you argued. You competed. You pushed each other's buttons until you both burned. But somewhere beneath the rivalry, beneath the teasing and the sharp words, there was something else. Something neither of you dared to name.

And now, with him lying here, vulnerable in a way you've never seen before, it's harder than ever to ignore it.

Hyunjin must notice the shift in your expression because his own smirk falters. His voice is softer when he speaks again.

"...I never actually hated you, you know." Your breath catches.

His gaze flickers to the IV line in his arm, avoiding your eyes. "I don't think I ever did."

The room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. "That's funny. Because you sure acted like you did."

He finally meets your eyes, and for once, there's no teasing in his gaze. Just something raw. Something real.

"Maybe I just didn't know how else to get your attention."

Your heart stumbles.

You don't know what to say to that. You don't know what to do with the memories rushing back-the stolen glances, the late- night study sessions that turned into whispered conversations, the almost- moments you never let yourself think about.

You don't know what to do with the way he's looking at you now, like he's seeing you for the first time.

And maybe you're seeing him, too.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Then, finally, you sigh, shaking your head.

"You're an Idiot," you murmur.

Hyunjin chuckles, wincing at the pain but not looking away. "Yeah. But I think you already knew that."

You do. And maybe, just maybe, you don't hate him as much as you thought.

Maybe you never did.

[hazelnut-u-out]

New fic!

Once again, not as polished as I'd like, but I'm trying to just trust my work as-is and not overwork it, lol.

I had this silly idea of young Rick and Birdperson trying to proposition some candidates for a threesome, but having a horrible reputation in bed and getting rejected. I fluffed it out for fun a little bit, and it was a joy to write.

Hope you like it! Full text below cut, Ao3 link here!

'So, Sisyphus Walks into a Bar...'

3,087 Words | Mild NSFW (if you squint) | Light Angst

---

Rick took a deep breath, leaning forward and over the running water of the restroom sink. 

The 35-year-old looked himself over as he leisurely washed his hands. He looked… okay. The flickering overcast of yellow light did little to favor him, but what he took in wasn’t too shabby for not showering in 76 hours and fighting in a battle earlier that day. There were some smudges of dirt on his face and clothes, but nothing worse than some dried blood in his greasy hair. His cheeks were flushed with a mixture of drunkenness and heat. The slightly sweet scent of his body odor hit his numb nose as he turned his head to the side and inhaled.

Oh, well, he thought. In his experience, the regulars at this bar weren’t typically picky, the species as a whole even less so during the planet’s warm months that marked their mating season.

He ran his wet hands over his face in an attempt to cool down, not bothering to use the provided dryer and instead wiping them off on the seat of his dark jeans. He had tied his jacket around his waist. It’ll be fine.

Finally, Rick stretched his arms over his head as a new melody seeped past the bathroom door. 

‘Pers!’ he called, stepping to the side and leaning against the wall next to the mirror. 

‘Yes?’ His friend’s voice was a bit hoarse as it emanated from within the stall. 

‘Could you take any longer? We don’t have all week. We’re moving off planet in the morning to push the new border, in case you’ve forgotten!’ Rick said with a scoff. The former scientist reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes. Gingerly, he lit one up and brought it to his lips. 

‘I could probably take longer, yes,’ Birdperson responded in a dull tone. ‘I fail to see how that would help.’ 

Rick pressed his left palm between his eyebrows, pulling a long drag from the cigarette between his lips. The smoke warmed his throat and he let the relief that washed over him carry away his annoyance. He held the inhale for a while until it burned deep in his chest and exhaled slowly. 

Dropping his hand and shoving it in his pocket, he replied. ‘N–No, uh… That’s one of those sarcastic questions I was telling you about. It–It’s supposed to have a dry humor vibe to it. I was telling you to hurry up.’ 

Rick heard the electric ‘woosh’ sound of the toilet as Birdperson emerged from the stall, looking equally drunk and irritated. His cheeks were sullied and uncharacteristically rosy. His torso glimmered with sweat where it wasn’t decorated with caked blood, dust, or mud.

Birdperson’s brow hung low on his pointedly blank expression as he stumbled to the sink. ‘Does it not desaturate your ‘mysterious vibe’ to constantly explain your figurative language?’ He emphasized Rick’s own words with air quotes and a terrible impression. 

Rick rolled his eyes, taking another draw before blowing the smoke up to play in the cast of the ceiling light. He raised his voice a tad so BP could hear him over the running water. ‘First of all, you sound like a fucking frog. It’s not cute. Second of all, I wasn’t exactly planning to waste my time being a sarcasm tutor but, hey, the best friend market was pretty sparse.’ 

Birdperson huffed amusedly, turning to use the hand dryer at his left. ‘I do not care for being cute, and I understand sarcasm, Rick. I do not understand being mean.’ 

Rick blinked, ignoring BP’s smug expression as he turned to face him again. It burned him up inside to know that Pers knew he’d made a point good enough to stump him. He passed him the cigarette and crossed his arms instead of replying. 

Birdperson took a hit from the cigarette, and placed his hands on the sink, leaning forward. He exhaled the smoke into Rick’s face, and Rick could smell the cheap vodka they’d used to pregame on his breath. After the smoke had cleared a bit, his friend spoke. 

‘You think I’m your best friend?’ the birdman cooed, making his face into an exaggerated expression. He placed his taloned hands beneath his own chin, the smoke trailing up around his face, in a dramatic display of lovesickness. 

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Rick said, his cheeks growing impossibly hotter. ‘Don’t understand being mean, my ass.’ 

Birdperson let out a nearly evil cackle as he threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. ‘How was that for sarcasm, Sanchez?’ 

‘Let’s just go get laid, yeah?’ Rick huffed with a slight pout. 

BP nodded in agreement, giving his feathers a once-over in the mirror and brushing some stray clumps of dirt from his wings. ‘I smell like shit,’ Rick heard him mutter. When he finished his quick groom, he turned to Rick. ‘Last night in this shithole. We will probably never be back.’ 

Rick nodded, tapping his foot against the linoleum. 

‘So,’ Pers continued, rocking on his heels and looking to the side almost sheepishly. ‘Are we doing one more usual, or splitting up?’ BP looked at him expectantly. 

Rick fidgeted with the sleeve of his tattered shirt, pretending to consider the options. Shrugging, Rick replied after a short moment. ‘I mean, when in Rome…’ 

Pers relaxed, smiling a bit more naturally. ‘I still do not know where Rome is, but, ah… That means our usual, right?’ 

‘Y–Yeah.’ Rick stuttered, trying to level his voice. ‘Unless you wanted to split up? Which–Which is also chill, or whatever.’ 

‘No. I am already chill with the arrangement,’ Birdperson said, emphasizing the slang with a slight inflection. 

Rick nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and gesturing with his head for Birdperson to lead the way. Birdperson ran his hands over his chest in what resembled a display of excitement and the two men exited the bathroom. 

—

The bar's atmosphere was a slight step up from its humid restroom. The air still stuck to Rick’s skin like a thin balmy coating, only further accentuating his sweaty state. The dark, red-tinted wood gave the place a deep, warm feel. It was one of those places you’d see in an old advertisement for firewood, but there wasn’t a fireplace. Instead, there were blue-flamed lamps huddled in the corners, emanating a smokey scent that seeped into their surroundings. The visual cooled down the scene. There was an unimpressive crowd tonight, but a low buzz of chatter in alien languages still hummed along the ceiling. He’d taken up at the bar, his lean body curled around the edge of the surface and his bony ass digging into the squishy seat of the barstool. He tapped a lithe pinky finger on the rim of his glass, the ice clinking gently as he jounced his movements to the rhythm of the song overhead. 

The bartender was a sullen-looking Gromflomite, probably near the end of their lifespan. Their tarsi worked with machine-like precision as they clicked against the glass bottles they wiped down and poured from. Rick battled with distributing effort into the two last coherent desires he could identify in his drunken brain: watching the bartender’s shiny handiwork and getting his dick wet. 

Neither he nor Birdperson had gotten very lucky tonight. This was a bar of regulars, and the pair had hooked up with pretty much everyone there. He’d tried to chat up all three of the aliens at the bar already– all mature females they’d taken home before during the three-month stalemate– and had been rejected in tandem. 

Rick brought the package and Pers brought the bod. That was the arrangement! What could’ve gone wrong?

Rick pursed his lips in annoyance, turning to watch Pers get politely rejected by the last possible candidate. His disheartened friend headed his way. 

‘No luck,’ BP said with a dramatic sigh, plopping down ungracefully onto the stool to Rick’s left. 

‘Last time I was on Earth, swinging was still all the rage! I hardly expected space to be more conservative. Not–Not that we’re a couple,’ Rick replied, noticing as the bartender shot the pair an amused look. ‘You got a problem?’ 

The bug set the bottle they’d been holding on the bar and rested their arms on the surface, leaning in. ‘Are you serious? Every regular I’ve got’s been complaining about you two for weeks.’

Rick narrowed his eyes, scoffing. ‘With all due respect, buddy, if you’d’ve seen what we’re pa–packing–’ he threw his arm around Birdperson’s shoulders clumsily in a puffed-up display of comradery, ‘you wouldn’t complain. Nice joke, though.’

The two soldiers snorted, Rick passing Pers the last bit of his drink to finish off. 

The light glinted off of the bartender’s glassy eyes, giving the slight illusion of a human eye-roll. ‘You wanna know what I’ve heard?’ 

Pers gave the alien a small nod, finishing off the drink and shooting Rick a toothy grin. 

‘They say you guys proposition them for the time of their lives. Two young rebel stallions out in the middle of nowhere without a decent lay, you say. Then you two get so caught up in each other that you practically ignore them.’ Their mandibles twitched in amusement, a bit of drool glistening in the light of the lantern overhead as it dripped from their mouth. 

Rick went rigid, his smile disappearing. He looked at Birdperson, who looked a bit confused. Rick almost ignored the comment and laughed in the bug’s face after having a moment to process the situation, but then he heard the trio he’d spoken to earlier giggle amongst themselves. He shot one of them an inquisitive look, raising his brow and gesturing with an outstretched thumb at the Gromflomite in front of him. She simply shrugged apologetically and turned to continue laughing with her friends. 

BP finally seemed to understand what they’d implied, standing up, puffing out his broad chest, and unfurling his wingspan. Rick restrained himself from looking. He always found the defense mechanism rather fascinating. It did make him look bigger. 

Rick reached out and tugged on his friend’s wing. ‘It’s not worth it,’ he slurred. ‘Let’s just go.’ 

Birdperson looked shocked but folded his wings back in hesitation. ‘What? You are just going to let them say that?’ 

Rick thought for a second, looking back over to the group of females. He considered letting Pers tear the tender apart. Maybe he could convince himself no one knew what they were talking about. 

Suddenly, someone shouted from across the room, snapping Rick out of his thoughts. ‘Calm your boyfriend down, Rick!’ It was another female. Rick recognized her voice, but he wasn’t sure from where. 

Shit, he thought. He brought his other hand up to his face and cringed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

‘Well?!’ Birdperson squawked impatiently, waiting for Rick’s permission. Rick let go of his wing. 

‘I don’t think they’re lying,’ Rick mumbled, taking a few steps towards the door. He paused when he realized his friend wasn’t moving. 

‘What?’ BP said exasperatedly. ‘I can’t hear you over the music.’ 

‘I said,’ Rick shouted, turning to poke at his companion's chest. ‘They’re telling the truth!’ 

Laughter erupted around the establishment. 

Rick’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment as Birdperson’s plume expanded along the top of his head. His face went through a range of emotions– from confused, to shocked, to thoughtful, and finally back to stoic. The bird man gave Rick a tight nod, the only clue of the events in his demeanor the ruffle of his feathers.  

Rick turned, head down, and stalked out of the establishment. His combat boots smacked loudly against the wooden floor as Pers followed him. 

‘Drinks on the house, boys!’ The bartender called out sardonically. Jeers narrated their walk of shame until the cool air enveloped them and the laughter muffled behind the smack of the door. 

They walked in silence for a while before Birdperson finally spoke up. ‘Can we… Uh… Where are we going?’ 

Rick stopped, turning and taking in their surroundings. He’d kind of zoned out for a while, just walking off steam. 

The pair stood on an abandoned street, deteriorating foreign architecture surrounding them on both sides. Rick leaned against the stone wall next to him, shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I dunno.’ He admitted. 

‘Rick…’ Birdperson started, looking to the side and trailing off. Rick let the silence sit, not bothering enough to fill it. ‘You know it is not a romantic thing for me, right?’ 

‘Yeah, man,’ Rick said, nonchalantly. He leaned his head back, studying the star pattern mindlessly. ‘I’ve heard all about how casual it is for your species. I’m not stupid.’ 

‘Cool…’ Birdperson said, tapping his thighs with his hands. ‘So…’ 

Rick bit back the urge to either punch or kiss him. He couldn’t tell. 

‘So?’ Rick asked, pushing all of the indifference he didn’t have into his tone. 

‘I mean,’ Birdperson moved forward, bracing one hand on the wall next to Rick’s head. Rick gasped, going rigid as his best friend demanded his attention from the stars. ‘I know it has never been just you and I, but… I see no reason it cannot.’ Seemingly sensing Rick’s hesitation, Birdperson brought a taloned finger up to brush a strand of Rick’s filthy hair behind his ear. ‘Just this once?’ 

Rick thought about the offer. It was different from their usual arrangement. He’d been telling himself the thirds were there to appeal to BP’s annoyingly persistent heterosexuality, but he’d obviously been wrong. Just how casual was sex to his people? Was it usually so… communal? 

Rick thought briefly of Squanchy. Had he been propositioned before? Squanchy would take that up in a heartbeat, but surely Pers would complain of the hairballs…

‘Yeah, oka–’ Rick could barely give his assent before Birdperson was on him, the heady scent of liquor greeting him as his companion kissed him hungrily. 

It took Rick a moment to react, not realizing what was happening. All of those nights of looking into Birdperson’s eyes, of reaching for his hands, of tasting him on a cigarette after sex, and he never could have thought this would happen. At least, not so needily. 

At last, Rick pulled his hands from his pockets, kissing back eagerly and sliding his hands up under the other man’s wings. Birdperson let out a small animalistic noise, wrapping his left arm around Rick’s slender waist and pulling him in close. Rick curved the tips of his fingers, gently digging into the skin at the junction of his wings and back, and smiled as BP pulled away, gasping and arching his back. 

‘I pay attention,’ he said breathlessly. 

Birdperson’s lips glistened in the starlight, the silence of the street filled with small pants and gasps. 

‘Too much attention,’ Birdperson quipped. ‘You are a tease, Sanchez,’ he whispered lowly, leaning down to plant a chaste, restrained kiss on Rick’s jaw. Rick pushed his nails in harder, feeling talons dig into his side. 

‘How so?’ Rick feigned innocence, suddenly aware of how cold it was on this planet after dark, nuzzling further into his taller companion. 

‘I cannot have you here,’ Birdperson said, straightening and taking a few steps back. Rick pouted, his arms falling to his sides. ‘Your body temperature is too low.’ 

‘You can just keep me warm?’ Rick offered, stepping forward. Birdperson took another step back, smirking down at him. 

‘I am not chancing you getting sick. You are my best soldier.’

‘You’re like Sisyphus with this war shit,’ Rick said, straightening out his shirt and turning to walk. He gestured for Pers to walk back to camp with him. 

‘And you are not?’ Birdperson laughed, picking up a leisurely stride behind him. 

‘Either keep up with my queer walking speed or admit you’re the tease,’ Rick groaned, kicking up dust and snagging BP’s hand to drag him towards their destination faster. ‘Your boulder is war. Mine is…’ Rick thought. He couldn’t exactly say, ‘You.’ and just go about their casual hookup. ‘I dunno… Myself?’ 

‘Hmmm… So you are destined to fight yourself forever?’ Pers asked, giggling and letting out a little hiccup. 

‘More like I’m always just out of reach,’ Rick swallowed. He didn’t need to think of this right now. Think hornier thoughts, dammit, He mentally chided himself. 

‘Seems to me like you are within reach,’ BP said playfully, reaching up and smacking Rick’s ass. Rick’s eyes went wide. He threw Pers a dirty look over his shoulder, pulling on his hand even harder. ‘Seriously, though,’ his friend continued. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘I guess…’ Rick trailed off, thinking. ‘Okay, I’m going to say this, and then we’re done with the sad sack shit, alright? We’re saving the rest of the philosophy stuff for pillow-talk.’ 

‘Deal,’ Birdperson agreed, squeezing Rick’s hand.

He’d finally started to catch up, so Rick met his gaze as he spoke. 

‘I get scared that, one of these days, there’s going to be two versions of me people remember.’ Rick searched BP’s face for understanding. It hadn’t clicked yet, so he continued. ‘You know how that shit happens when you’re older, right? I dunno. Maybe it–it’s a human thing or something. People sort of have these ideas of each other that get set in stone. I worry people might not know me when I’m old– if I get old. What if I'm a man capable of love and a man so vile they despise him? I know what that’s like… To miss someone you hate.’

Birdperson’s brow furrowed. Rick thought he might be sick waiting for his response. Had he overshared? Ruined the moment? 

They were at camp now, the village of tents just a few paces ahead of them. A couple still had their lanterns on, giving off a ghostly translucent glow into the bitter night as the two men walked between the rows. Finally, BP smiled at him. He pulled him close, Rick’s back to BP’s tent only a few feet away. ‘I could never hate you.’ 

Rick could feel his heart in his ears. Birdperson’s chest was hot against the fabric of his shirt. He ran his cold hands over his partner’s filthy chest, inhaling the scent of stale sweat in the cold. ‘I think you could…’ Rick smirked, pushing his hands back around to the base of the other man’s wings. 

‘Let’s find out.’ 

[robobarbie]

angst AND romance??? both? both. both is good.

inspired by me messing around with quests options and finding one where quest gets pissed when he finds out societyboy used to yell at mc: how about when he finds out the rest of it? him trying to balance feeling absolutely pissed while comforting mc

of course tw for abuse mention

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

You hadn't wanted to talk about it -- not that night, at least. You promised yourself you would when you were ready, and ready you certainly were not. But life isn't kind to expectations, is it?

Here you are, arms covering your face, Quest looking at you quizzically, and all you want to do was melt into the couch and disappear.

"Angel?" He speaks softly.

Fuck.

You clench your fists and close your eyes as tears begin to well. You look so fucking stupid right now. Attention seeking, overreactive behavior. Why did you have to give the game away, huh? Why do you always do this at the smallest reminder?

Quest's hand gently touches your arm but retreats when you jump at the sensation.

"Ah, okay. I'll sit. Not touching you, baby."

Your arms fold against your body and you lean back into the couch with a sob. It's so stupid. It's all just so stupid. You try to wipe away the tears quickly, but more keep coming. You're a mess to look at.

Quest sits quietly nearby, oddly stiff. You still can't meet his gaze. But you can feel it burning into you.

After a few moments, you calm down -- you aren't good, but you're good enough. You lower your arms from your face and gingerly fold your hands on your lap.

Quest then turns to look away from you, probably finally sensing that you don't want to be looked at right now. You're calming down, so, he can look away anyway. He's still worried, though.

But you want him there... you want to feel him next to you. With a shaky breath, you lean over and rest against his arm. When you reach forward and take his hand in yours, he squeezes back firmly. A quiet "It's okay, I'm here."

He traces your skin with his thumb. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay, we don't have to-"

"But I'm going to." Might as well. You're here in the mud already. Might as well not risk the chance of dirtying yourself again.

You grit your teeth, take a deep breath, and tell him. Tell him everything. The way SB used to take advantage of you, the danger you felt at times, and the fear that has ever since been carved into your chest. As you speak, Quest doesn't say anything. He nods, careful not to interrupt, and lets you say your piece. Your emotional, sloppy, but important piece.

When you reach the end, you finally glance up at him. He's staring straight ahead, jaw clenched tight and brows knitted together.

You say his name. "What are you thinking?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, instead vying to lift your hand to his lips for a small kiss. He holds it there, reverently, before slowly letting your hand fall to his lap, still held tightly by him.

"I'm thinking a lot, Angel," he says, carefully. "But I don't think they're very helpful thoughts."

"I want to hear it, anyway. Please?"

He sighs and finally turns to look at you again. His eyes search yours, -- are they a little red? Had he been crying, too?

"I'm disgusted that that happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You don't have to-"

"Because if I was there, he would be six feet under by now."

The venom stuns you a bit. You're not used to hearing Quest speak like that. It tweaks your heart, but it's not painful.

You cry a little and Quest places a hand on your cheek, expression fierce. "He would be. I would have made it hurt, too. I want to make it hurt."

"Quest--"

"I'm not stupid. I'm not going to do anything." His thumb strokes a tear away. "But I can't deny that I really, really want to."

He holds you there for a moment before pulling you onto his lap for an enveloping hug. Your arms wrap tightly around him and you bury your face in his neck.

His arm is wrapped around your back, another cradling your head against him -- shaking a bit, too. He's crying with you.

"I'm so, so sorry Angel." He hugs you tighter against him. "I've got you. Nobody can do that to you again, okay?"

You nod into him and he nods back. Both of you sit there in silence for a couple minutes, holding onto each other.

Quest is the one to finally speak first. He asks you if you're hungry, he'll make anything you want. You ask for pasta. He says of course. He holds your hand as you stand up from the couch, and doesn't let go of it for the rest of the night.

[quinnthemagi]

Nightowl bursts through the door of the apartment ready for your date that had been planned for months. He turns the corner to see you on the floor crying hands buried in your face. His chest tightened already realizing that date night was ruined.

"Cutie? Everything alright?"

You snap your head around sudden anger flashing across your face.

"No! It's not okay! I'm so exhausted and overworked and god I don't even want to leave the house but we have to." Nightowl blinks at you obviously hurt by your words. He hadnt realized you were struggling all the while he was going day to day normally. Had he even bothered to check in on you these past few weeks? Nightowl realized he had been brushing off your complaints about work placated with the "I'm fine's" . Wow he thought to himself how shitty could he be.

Nightowl slowly inches towards you settling down on the floor next to you.

"I'm sorry... I can be really dumb sometimes and I didn't even notice you were struggling... I'm such a bad boyfriend but how about we stay in? I can order some takeout and we can just relax get your mind off work. What do you say cutie?" He gives a sheepish smile and you can see the guilt on his face.

You finally cave in nodding your head before pulling him into a hug mumbling apologies into the crook of his neck. Nightowl just holds you close but he's already beating himself up inside shit he thought I've gotta be better this isn't good enough.

[glitter-asian]

11:10pm

《 practice 》

warnings:  angst, fading into fluff

“lisa this is not the first time you’ve missed something like this.” you said in frustration before flopping down on your bed.  a sigh left your lips as you heard silence on the other end of the line. you couldn’t see your girlfriend but you knew she was equally frustrated.  

“but you know i have to practice.” she finally spoke up breaking the silence. “this is my dream, can’t you support this?”  the pain in her voice was crystal clear.

“well i’m sorry if i sound selfish but i just wanted to spend sometime with you.”  the sassy tone in your voice overpowering completely as you spoke. you placed a hand over your eyes as you laid on the bed with the phone pressed to your ear.   

“and you don’t think i want to spend time with you to?” lisa almost yelled in response. you sniffed, trying your best to hold back tears.  you hated fighting with her.  it hurt your heart in a different way.  there was another couple of seconds flooded with silence. 

“y/n.” lisa said, “y/n listen to me.”  she paused and took a deep breath, “i’m sorry - i have just been so stressed out lately.” her voice sounding weak, you could tell she was tired.  

“it’s okay, i’m sorry too.”  you admitted, “i know this is your dream and i should be supportive.”   you wanted nothing more than to see her succeed in life but at times it could get pretty lonely. 

“i love you y/n.” lisa said her voice changing back to the soft and sweet tone. you knew she was smiling. 

“i love you too.”  you replied. “i always will.”

[babyboyxiao]

hi! could you do an aged up yatora yaguchi smut? i don’t have anything else specifically just stay true to his character. this is my first time requesting so sorry if i’m doing anything wrong!

thanks!!!

Yellow is the Colour of His Eyes | Yaguchi Yatora x Reader

AN: thank you so much for the request, i'm sorry this took so long! you're absolutely perfect and i'm so excited for my first Blue Period request! i really tried hard to write him in character but idek anymore, it's been a fat while since i last read bp tbh, and idek what that ending was i got hella tired at the end of writing this but i just hope you enjoy it,, i ended up really leaning into the idea of the reader being a fellow student so there's actually quite a bit of plot so i hope that's okay too,, i was also listening to soccer mommy's song of the same-ish name technically it's "her eyes" while writing this and, while the lyrics don't quite line up, i'd recommend listening to it while reading this bc idk it just fits for me :)

Summary: during a rough night pouring yourself into your final assignment of your second year at Geidai, Yatora finds you decrepit in your studio area. the weight of the mistakes in your work weighs heavy on your shoulders and you find yourself unable to hold back your feelings any longer.

CW: smut, nsfw (minors dni!), friends to lovers, angst with a bit of fluff, unprotected sex, gn! reader

As the end of the semester drew near, you found yourself gradually spending more and more time holed up in your studio working on your final assignment. Your hands stained with ink, paint caked underneath your chipped fingernails, and your eyes swelled with a lackluster enthusiasm as you stared at the canvas before you. It was completed, ready for submission and you were elated that you could finally call it a night... but then you spotted it, a dark smudge on the right edge of the canvas. No doubt it was made by your grimy hands as you'd absent-mindedly gripped the canvas while painting. It wasn't just there either, suddenly every imperfection stood out like a sore thumb and you groaned, tears threatening to spill over as you buried your face into your hands. You just sat there, shoulders slumped as you prepared yourself for another couple of hours of fixing all those blemishes. A gentle knock echoed from the door, platinum blonde wisps of hair peeking out between the frame and the door.

"Thought I'd find you here," Yatora huffed, "I've been calling you, y'know?" You didn't dare look at him, you didn't want one of your closest friends to see you in such a state.

"Oh, sorry... my phone's in my bag." You dejectedly reply. You heard the rustle of a plastic bag, then some rattling, and his footsteps drawing near. You furrowed your brows, you really weren't in the mood for this.

"It looks amazing, just a couple more touches here and there and you're almost done. I got you a couple of things to keep you going-" Yatora's rambling was cut short by the shrill screech of your stool. Keeping your head down, you marched over to him and began dragging him back towards the door.

"Yeah, thanks, really. Can you please leave now?" Your voice shook with every word, your fingers trembling as they gripped his biceps and legs wobbling with every step. The tremors in your voice sparking concern, Yatora spun around and clutched your shoulder, peering down to get a look at your face.

"Fuck, you don't look so good. Just- let's get some air, okay? I brought some snacks, you look like you're about to keel over." Yatora huffs, bringing an arm around your shoulder to lead your tired figure outside. You can't it back any longer, your frustration and exhaustion boiling over. You push his arm away, stumbling back towards your canvas. You know you're being dramatic but you can't waste any more time, and you know that if you went with him, you wouldn't want to leave.

"I can't! I have to finish this and, unlike you, I just- I can't work like you do! Constantly working, improving, like you know what you need to get better at a-and you just do it! It's like time doesn't slip away from you like it does for me, I just-" and then it hits you. You're knees crash into the vinyl beneath you, the air is abrasive in your lungs, probably from all the turpentine fumes, the dry skin of your hands absorbing your tears as they fall. The boy is stunned, his feet rigid but, in his stupor, he manages to walk towards you. Squatting beside you, he hesitantly places a hand on your head, ruffling your disheveled hair.

"Is that how you think of me?" he sighs, your outburst simultaneously empowered him yet pierced him. On one hand, the fact that someone like you saw how much he was improving made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, even if it was via some eruption of bitter emotions, and it wasn't like you never praised him, quite the opposite. However, there was something different about how you had said it, that was what was nagging at him; the fact that you seemed to put him on a pedestal like some prodigy when, for him, he was the one lagging behind.

"You're just so onto it," you sobbed, "half the time, I'm just fucking around, but you're constantly growing and doing something. And then shit like this happens and it's last minute and I'm falling over myself trying to finish." Yatora just snorts in response; he recalls all the times you spent sketching out ideas for all kinds of projects, when you'd meet up with him with some new idea just to abandon it an hour later when something new catches your eye. Sure, maybe he had a more consistent work ethic but that gleam in your eye and the hyper-intense passion that you and everyone else got with art was something that didn't really come naturally to him. But that wasn't really it, was it? You both were just seeing each other in those moments, only noticing the shadow the other person cast over you. He brings his hand down to pull you into an embrace, plopping his chin where his hand previously was.

"You know that's all bullshit, right?" Yatora huffs, burying his face into your hair, "you all are way ahead of me, I'm the one who's catching up. Fuck, I still don't know if I even get art yet. I only started a couple years ago now, but you've all been doing this for way longer than I have, you have it all down now but I've only just gotten the hang of it, to be honest." You're shaking in his arms, and you know he's right. All of his improvements were the same as yours however many years ago, but seeing his growth as an artist compared to your stagnation made you forget all that. Of course, how could you have been so blind?

"Fuck," you choke out, "you're right, I'm sorry." You pull away from him, his hand falling limply from your shoulder to your knee, rubbing small circles into your skin. "I didn't mean to say all that, I-I know you're working hard just to pass, we-we all are... I let the stress get to me, I'm really sorry, Yatora." You laugh, rubbing the tears from your eyes as you try to collect yourself, the embarrassment from your little outburst beginning to sink in.

"It's fine, besides, I kinda like the smudges..." he chuckles, his hand reaching around to rub the back of his neck. At this moment, a slight blush begins to creep onto his cheeks, realizing just how intimate the scene had been. You glance up at him, eyes wide and puffy, and he feels all the air leave his chest. He drops his head to avoid eye contact, his hands bashfully trying to hide his blush but you knew better than to let the moment end. Out of curiosity, you slink up to remove his hands from his face, and he loses balance, falling back onto the vinyl. You hover over him for a moment, taking in his flushed appearance before giggling. It wasn't exactly rare to see Yatora like this but, after such an emotionally charged moment, it was exactly what you needed to feel better.

"You know, Yatora, I think I could get used to a view like this." You giggle as he rises, his hand running through his hair as he propels himself forward to sit up properly. He mutters for you to shut up but the smile on his face speaks otherwise. Slowly, Yatora brings a finger up to stroke your cheek, collecting some stray tears. There's a fondness in his eyes that you can't help but shuffle closer to get a better look at. "Thank you Yatora, for checking up on me and dealing with... well, that."

"Don't worry about it..." He trails off, leaning towards you, his single finger turning into a hand cupping your cheek. Planting a hand on each of his sides, you rise up to meet his lips in a small kiss. Your heart is beating a million kilometers an hour, the cool vinyl the only thing keeping you grounded in the heat of the moment. His lips are soft if not a little dry, the faint taste of tobacco offset by whatever he'd been snacking on earlier but you didn't mind. You reached around to tangle your fingers in his hair, while his hands settled on your waist, dipping under your shirt to rub at your skin. You settled on his lap, gasping as he began to trail kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You thanked every deity that the studio was empty tonight, no one around to witness you grinding against his clothed erection. You didn't want Yatora's ministrations on your body to cease even for a second but, as you desperately began to claw at his shirt, he pulled away for a moment. His face flushed and chest heaving, he asked, "Here? Now?"

"You said I needed a break, right?"

"I said you needed air."

"Same difference." You shrugged, reattaching your lips to his. Despite his complaints, one hand continued to snake up your back while another plunged beneath the waistline of your pants. Meanwhile, yours trailed down his chest to the hem of his shirt, following his movements as you sucked on the skin of his neck. You both paused, desperately removing your bottoms to cut straight to where you needed each other most. His fingers descended right to your heat, clumsily rubbing and prodding at your entrance but, at this point, any stimulation was enough. You let out a small whine, hastily reaching for his cock and rubbing it against your hole.

"W-wait, don't we need a condo-" Yatora's plea was cut off when you sunk down onto his length, a groan was ripped from his lungs before you silenced him with another kiss. Your tongues danced in rhythm with your hips, nimbly rocking back and forth in his lap while the tip of his cock hit your most sensitive spot. Pulling back for air, Yatora immediately reattached his lips to your neck, continuing where he left off by sucking dark purple marks on your collarbone. Your nails dug into his scalp as you bounced up and down in his lap, the muscles in your legs taut and you didn't know how much longer you could keep up the pace you had set for yourself. Sensing your exhaustion, Yatora leaned back, pulling you down with him as he began to thrust upward into you. With your arms planted on either side of his head for support, you pressed your forehead against his, the knot in your core tightening with every lunge of his hips.

"Yatora~" you whimpered, your body overcome by pleasure. Yatora rolled over, capturing you beneath him as he continued to thrust into you. His hands came up to cradle your head while you pulled him down to your lips, drowning yourselves in another lustful kiss. As your ears were assaulted by the wild slapping of skin, you became hyper-aware of your lewd conduct in the middle of the studio. If anyone were to walk in at any moment... The thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, your legs binding themselves around his waist as your back curved up off the floor. As your insides clenched around his cock, Yatora couldn't help but also come undone inside you, the orgasm enough to cloud his better judgment of pulling out. You both remained in that position for a while, the remainder of your clothes clinging to your bodies, your bodies aching and begging for respite. Yatora's senses returned first, panic setting in as he pulled out.

"I- uh... Y/N?" Yatora whispered, you merely hummed in response, still dazed from your intense orgasm. Yatora sighed, pulling you up to settle in his lap, your hands resting on his biceps and head nestling into the crook of his neck. He pulled at one of your hands, holding it delicately in his own, fiddling with your fingers, and examining the blue and yellow stains across your hand. He looked at your painting, and then back at you before smiling. "You're fucking beautiful"

A giggle bubbled out of you, "so are you."

"But seriously, you need air and food, all the paint and turpentine fumes are probably fucking with your head."

© 2022 All rights reserved — do not modify, translate, repost or claim any of my work.

[littlespace-imagines]

Hello! Can i get bloody painter x little reader with separation anxiety? Even out of little space they need to at least be able to get to him (sorry if i did this wrong)

Bloody Painter x little!reader

**BP maybe be slightly OOC I haven’t written for him in a while**

Contains: short read, Littlespace, CG/l dynamic, honorific (daddy) used, established relationships, angst, and fluff

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

You looked up at the clock, your leg bouncing faster as you saw it had been nearly an hour and you still hadn’t heard from Helen. You took a deep breath and whispered to yourself

‘It’s okay, it’s fine, just because he hasn’t gotten back yet doesn’t mean something bad is happening.”

You repeated this statement a couple more times before you stood up and grabbed your favorite stuffed animal, you cuddled them close as you contemplated what to do next. You didn’t want to bother him, you didn’t want him to leave because you got too clingy.

You decided you’d just go check on him and opened the door and walked out of your room, one hand was dragging along the wall next you as the other clutched your favorite stuffed animal close to you as you approached Helen’s room.

You knocked, hoping he had come home and just forgot to greet you, when the answer you had hoped for never came you twisted the knob and walked into his room. You made a beeline for his bed and flipped onto it, taking in his scent and trying your best not to cry.

“Sweetie?” You felt yourself getting shaken

“Hey, little one, c’mon it’s time to get up.” You groaned in response before sitting up and rubbing your eyes, you looked for a bit before your eyes focused on the pale, dark haired man infront of you

“Oh, hi daddy.” You mumbled out, Helen smiled softly at the nickname

“Hey, Sweetie, why are you in daddy’s room?” He asked and you shrugged

“Got scared, I was alone.” He nodded and pulled you into a hug

“‘M sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you scared.” You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

He was home, you weren’t alone.

[kilojulietsierra]

"Tonight" - Part 2 (Johnny x Fem!Reader)

Second and final part of my little Johnny Tuturro, some talk of deportation, a little angst but also some fluff and a hint of steam.

Here's Part One

Part Two

'Tonight' didn't happen.

Two sips into an early morning coffee the call came in.

By lunch time it was all business. The trail was hot again and and their focus shifted.

Three days later (Y/N) was stacked up with six other federal agents, Border Patrol and FBI, hands on shoulders waiting to breach the door.

The door smashed open under the ram, flash bangs clacked off, there was yelling in English and Spanish. She stared down the sight of her gun, peeled around the door with the rest of the breech team and pied off her piece off the warehouse.

The few cartel members inside were less of a fight then they had expected but the screams and crying from the far corner told her that her Intel had also sorely underestimated what they would find. (Y/N's) job immediately switched from taking out cartel members to taking care of the men and women yelling in fear. She lowered her rifle, right hand on the grip left hand held out in front of her as she rattled off in rapid Spanish, "Stay calm. Everybody, stay calm. We are agents of the United States Border Patrol and we are here to help."

~~~

For over an hour she stood in that warehouse, sweating in her long sleeves and heavy gear, translating and questioning. All around her federal agents tore the warehouse apart, BP agents hauled off the still standing cartel members, and eventually the story came together.

The warehouse was exactly what she had thought it was and yet she was still so very wrong. It was a part of the cartels pipeline for smuggling narcotics and people. But... these people; these young women and old men, these teenagers and crying children, all of them were being held as collateral. Their relatives on one side or the other owed the cartel money and this was how they made sure they got what they were owed.

(Y/N) stood with a young girl, barely sixteen, speaking with her as she cried, begged not to be sent back to Mexico, begged not to put her family in danger. (Y/N) comforted her, calmed her down as much as possible by explaining what would happen to her now.

Finally done with all the hostages (Y/N) turned towards the nearest exit. She caught sight of Johnny and some of the other shooters across the way and allowed herself half a second to enjoy the view of him decked out in his gear and all black, mask still pulled up to conceal his face but his eyes stood out dark and sharp even from across the warehouse.

A new group of men coming through the door caught everyone's attention. These men were not like the others. These guys wore slacks and windbreakers and strode past BP and FBI alike.

(Y/N) fell instep with them as they approached the hostages but was immediately told to step back.

She looked affronted. Other agents from both agencies approached as she called after them, "What's going on here?"

When she got no answer she followed after them, "I'm one of the lead agents on this op, tell me what you're doing here."

This time one of them actually turned to face her, "Not anymore. We're taking custody of this scene and taking the illegals into custody."

Her jaw dropped. Here eyes tracked the chaotic movements around her as the hostages were literally rounded up and marched out of the warehouse.

"I'm sorry what did you just say?" (Y/N) squared up to the guy in the windbreaker.

He walked past her without a word.

When he knocked his shoulder against hers, her temper flared and she wheeled around, "Who the fuck do you think you are and where the fuck are you taking these victims!?" When that only earned her a glance over a shoulder she took it a step further, " 'Cause that's what they are victims!"

"Get yourself under control agent."

"Where are you taking them?"

"They're going to a detention center until they're processed and ready for deportation." He turned and walked off after the others.

"You've got to be fucking..." Her words were cut off by someone physically jerking her backwards by the shoulder of her bulletproof vest. She fought to keep her feet under her as she was spun around and pushed out a side door of the warehouse and up against the wall.

Dark eyes bore into hers as Johnny ripped his face mask down, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Me? What about them!?"

"Them? What about them?" He still had a hold on her vest, physically keeping her up against the wall. "I don't wanna see those people get kicked across any more than you do mama..." Johnny licked his lips, "But you can't just go off on the suits like that."

"Why not? What are they gonna do? Fire me? Deport me?" She shoved off the wall and pushed Johnny's hand away when he grabbed for her, "Don't touch me!" She snapped at him in Spanish as she stormed away from him.

~~~

"Hey, hey! John-ney!" Briggs called at him as he took a seat with the others at their usual table.

For the first couple hours he sipped his beer and listened to the others, constantly stealing glances at his phone. (Y/N) hadn't responded to any of his texts or calls since the raid that afternoon and he was starting to worry. He sent one last message, 'Plz at least tell me you're okay'.

He waited, picked at the label of his beer, waited, unlocked and locked his phone over and over. He nearly flinched when it finally vibrated in his hand. A lone thumbs up emoji.

Without any explanation Johnny stood up from the table and walked out the door.

~~~

"Should've known."

She didn't even look at him properly as he approached. Even when he came to stand right beside her, leaning his elbows on the railing on which she sat.

"Mhmm." Was his response.

And they stayed there, together in silence, listening to the waves roll under the pier to crash against the beach behind them. He stayed there like as long as he could, "Tell me what you need mama... please."

She just scoffed and shook her head.

So they continued to sit quietly.

Every so often he could not stand still and would gently bump his shoulder against her. She would sway slightly with the bump but that would be her only response.

Johnny was determined, ready to stand there with her all night whether she said anything or not.

"It's all bullshit. Los coyotes, la migra, we're all the fucking same..." She trailed off for a moment, "Those people today... I took them out of one cage just to put them back in another. God knows what they survived crossing and now, if they survive the detention centers..."

Johnny chewed on his lip and nodded, "Either the cartel gets them or they go further in debt to get back across."

"That girl... whatever happens to her, any of them... it's our fault. My fault."

"Hey... hey, hey, hey. Don't talk like that. That's not on you." In the moonlight he could see the tears in her eyes and it killed him. "End of the day we're just the grunts holding the guns."

She scoffed again, her voice breaking. "I should have just kept driving up and down the fence." She wiped at her eyes, "I fought for this 'special' assignment so I could be one of the ones that actually made a difference."

"I know you did."

"Fucking idiot."

"Okay, no, knock that shit off." He stood up straight and leaned so he could catch her eye, "Some people are shit, that doesn't make you one of them just 'cause you have the same letters on your vest." He very carefully took hold of her knee. "There's a huge difference between guys like them that do this shit 'cuz they get off on ruining these peoples lives and people like you, that do this because they know the struggle and really want to help."

(Y/N) wiped at her eyes again, leaning her elbows on her knees. "Johnny... I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Jose."

"What?" She sniffled as she finally looked him in the eye.

"Jose remember." He winked, gave her the tiniest of smiles.

She actually smiled a little herself, eyes still teary, "Por supuesto." She wiped at her eyes again and leaned into him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and let her lean her head against his. She was still crying, softly, and every time he heard or felt a sob or sniffle he held her tighter.

"I'm tired." She'd been quiet so long Johnny had zoned out a little.

"Want me to take you back to your hotel?" He kissed her shoulder.

She shook her head, "Not really."

"The house isn't too far from here." Johnny pulled her close, kissed her shoulder again.

"You gonna sneak me in?" Her voice was harsh, dulled and raspy from her crying, but there was at least a little snark back in her voice.

"Uh-uh, no sneaking baby. Just a warm shower and a big comfy bed."

"Hmmm..." She rocked back and forth slightly, "That sounds nice. With you, holding me like this?"

~~~

The house was big, dark and empty as she let Johnny lead her through the living room and to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter while he grabbed her a water bottle. "Lot nicer than the Days Inn the BP put me up in." She complained as she looked around, the view out the huge glass front catching her attention and she walked towards it.

Johnny followed behind her, not saying anything, just wrapping his arms around her from behind and swaying them back and forth gently. "It's alright." He chuckled, pressing his lips against the crown of her head.

She was grateful he let her have this quiet moment, wrapped her fingers around the strong forearm holding her tight, "Your room have a view like this?"

"Mhmm." He hummed his answer, lips still brushing against her hair. Smooth and certain he released her and slipped his hand into hers to lead her to the stairs and up to his room.

It had been a long time since she had seen a mans room for the first time and she felt a little awkward as she looked around. Feeling nosey but she couldn't quite help herself. A moment after Johnny released her hand he was back with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He walked her into the bathroom and started the shower.

The smell and feel of the steam rose up quickly. He had turned the water up hot, knowing she would need it. Next he grabbed a couple towels and hung them on the rail by the showers entrance, "All set. There's all sorts of body wash and shampoo and stuff in there. Use whatever you need. Tankless water heater so take as long as you want, 'kay."

She nodded, "What about you?"

Johnny smirked, "I'm okay waiting mama, go ahead and relax awhile hmm."

He nudged her closer to the shower and stepped past her, kissing her temple as he went, and she didn't moved until he had walked out the door shutting it behind him.

Mostly on autopilot she stripped down and stepped into the big, fogged up, glass enclosed shower. She stood under the water, truly feeling like the hot water was washing away the grossness of the day.

The door opening snapped her back from whatever dark wonderings had stolen her attention away. She watched, through the fogged glass, as Johnny's shape came closer. "Doin' okay?"

"Mhmm." She hummed before ducking her head back under the shower.

Johnny stood on the other side of the glass, silent for a moment. Both of them watching the other's shadow but not really able to see.

"I was just wondering... if I waited long enough or you want me go back outside a minute and come back?"

(Y/N) paused, confused, then nerves raced through her and she actually giggled, "Jose..."

His head poked around the door, eyes clamped shut, "Yes...?"

She chuckled again, splashing some water in his face.

He scrunched up his face but kept his eyes shut, "So mean." Eyes still closed he leaned against the other side of the shower entrance.

"What are you doing?" (Y/N) stood under the shower, hot water hitting the back of her shoulders, hands on either side of her neck so that her forearms covered her chest.

"Seeing if you wanted company yet." He raised a hand to cover his eyes, almost like the temptation was too strong. When he didn't get a response he shifted his wait back and forth and huffed slightly, "Can I take a peak?"

(Y/N) didn't say anything right away. Part of her nervous, part of her wanting to see how patient he could be.

He waited, still and silent, still leaning against the entrance. Waiting for her decide.

"A little peak." She barely whispered.

"Yeah?" His back visibly straightened.

"Yeah."

He moved his fingers apart and opened one eye quickly, making her laugh and turn away from him. He must have liked what he saw, he closed his hand back over his eyes and scrubbed his hand over his face. Down over his jaw to his chin, his thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip. "Wow..."

"Wow?" She turned around, her back to him for a moment, shyness fighting it's way to the surface, for a moment.

"Yeah," He rubbed at his jaw again and visibly forced himself to look down at the floor, "It looks really, really nice in there."

"it is." Fighting back the nerves she let her arms fall from hiding her chest and kept her back to him. Stepping under the water and letting it run over her head and down her back.

Behind her he was silent but she could hear him shifting every so often. "You want to get in?"

"Yes please." His answer was immediate.

It made her laugh, biting her lip to silence it. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, giving him a nod. Not trusting her voice to give him anything else.

She watched with butterflies in her stomach as he stripped his button down shirt and jeans off on the other side of the glass. When she saw him move back to the door she looked away, unable to meet him eye to eye just yet with nothing between them.

As soon as he was in the shower with her he was behind her, arms wrapped tight around her once again and squeezed her in a hug. Relaxing slightly he kept his arms around her but held her against him securely. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "This is nice."

Her eyes closed she wrapped her fingers around his forearms again and relaxed into him. "Yes it is."

They stayed that way, under the hot water for a long moment before (Y/N) took a deep breath and turned herself around in his arms. Her hands settling against his bare, wet, warm chest, firm under her fingers while his hands settle lower to her hips. When she looked up at him his eyes were dark and intent but not with desire like she expected. It was there, but not desire alone.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her hands wandered over the man in front of her, over his strong shoulders, firm chest and the muscles of his core as they jumped and flinched under her soft touch.

On his part, his hands stayed still, focused more on kissing her until he couldn't breath without gasping for air in fleeting moments when their lips pulled apart. When her fingers ghosted over his hipbones and one hand wrapped around him, he jumped. A groan low in his throat and his grip tightened on her waist momentarily. His mouth dropped to her shoulder and he bit into it, carefully and mostly for show, as his one hand grabbed hers away from him, placing it safely back on his chest.

"Not yet mami." He mumbled into her damp skin as he nipped, licked and kissed his way up her neck to her ear. "Big comfy bed remember?" He pulled her earlobe between his lips and sighed when her nails bit into his chest. "Shower first, then you can play with it." He chuckled into her neck when her hand slapped against his chest, shoving him back a step. He pulled her back against him, "I'm playin' baby..." He kissed her, barely, "You know I'm going to take good care of you," another barely there brush of his lips, "all about you," he snuck a finger down between her legs and closed his eyes, bit his lip, "all night. Mhmm?"

Here eyes were closed and she swayed on her feet as she nodded, humming her answer against his lips, "Mhmm."

~~~

Pounding on the door jerked them both awake late the next morning. (Y/N) flinched but Johnny just grumbled and buried his head deeper into the pillows behind her.

"Johnny!" The pounding continued this time with a deep voice calling through the door, "You alive in there man."

She elbowed the man behind her in the ribs, whispering, "Make him go away."

He wrapped one arm tighter around her, "Sleeping, go away."

"C'mon dude, open up."

They remained silent, waiting for him to go away, but no such luck. Another knock on the door, "You seemed out of it at the bar last night and took off in a hurry."

Johnny rolled over onto his back and rubbed at his eyes, "Yeah I'm good, just tired."

There was another pause then, "I heard about the raid with the border patrol. Wanna talk about i?"

(Y/N) gave up on sleep and rolled over onto her other side and mumbled a complaint into Johnny's bare chest.

"Nope, I'm good. please leave now." He wrapped his arm around her again and tilted her face up to his for a kiss and a whispered, "Sorry mami."

Before she could respond the door nob rattled. They both stared at it from the bed and saw it jiggle again.

"Bro, you better not be doing what I think you're doing."

With one last jiggle and a click the doorknob turned and Briggs stepped in, "JT c'mon man you gotta get up... oh, well hello."

Her face half hidden against Johnny's chest (Y/N) waved sarcastically, "Sup."

"Johnny..."

"Briggs..."

"You are aware of the house rules?"

Johnny nodded, one hand tugging the sheet a little higher.

"Including the one about guests..." Briggs crossed his arms in the open door.

Johnny nodded again, his fingers moved from the sheet to her back, tracing up and down, "Mhmm... She's not a civilian though so, we're good."

(Y/N) nudged him and smiled, holding back a laugh, "I do have a badge."

Briggs nodded, "I see..."

"Yep, so if you could," Johnny gestured towards the door, "Just close that on your way out. 'Preciate it."

After a good amount of staring, borderline glaring, and sizing up Briggs pursed his lips. Nodding, Briggs reached for the door handle, "We're going to talk about this later Johnny Boy."

When the door shut behind him Johnny chuckled, "Looks we're in trouble."

"Oh no no no, you are in trouble. Your roommates, your rules. I'm just an innocent bystander here." She laughed as Johnny rolled over to prop himself up above her. Even went so far as to stick her tongue out at him.

"Innocent huh... don't believe that for a second." He pulled her hips towards his and leaned down to kiss her even as they both were laughing. They continued until they were pressed against eachother again, her leg wrapped around his waist and his fingers digging divots into her thigh.

When they did pull their lips apart (Y/N) whispered, "Jose..."

With a hum of appreciation he took her lips again, "Yeah mami?"

She let out something between a moan and a sigh as he moved to settle over her fully. Distracted for a moment by dragging her nails down his back she looked up at him, "We should probably go talk to your roommates."

"Mhmm." He mumbled against her lips as he tilted her hips in line with hers. Brushing against her deliberately.

"Jose... c'mon."

He kissed his way down her neck, smiling into her skin as her hands dug into his lower back, encouraging him to slip into her again.

"We do need to tell them." Her words were airy and halfhearted as her neck arched back and her eyes slipped closed.

"We'll explain it to them tonight." Johnny kissed his way back to her lips and took in the perfection in front of him. "I don't wanna get out of bed yet."

His hands were holding, pulling her against him with each movement and she was grasping at him, nodding, not ready to leave his bed just yet.

~~~

[missblissy]

Hi!! I want some pain so the Hurt/comfort post, about Alastor x reader with 1, 2, 4, 12??

((Of course Nonny!! Sorry for such a wait!! I've got a lot of these to work on lol. REMEMBER!! REQUEST ARE CLOSED RIGHT NOW, EVERYONE!! IF YOU SEND ONE IN I WILL NOT DO IT! I've had a few other people send some in and I'm sorry to say I have to delete them. I do not have any more room to take any more prompt requests. Thank you everyone for understanding! NOW.... Enjoy the Modern!AU Angst >:D))

1: “We need to stop the bleeding – now!” 2: “I hate to see you hurt like this.” 4: “I want to help you, so please let me.” 12: “You’re normally the tough guy. Today, let me be tough for the both of us.”

Something about today had felt off. Ever since you woke up, it just felt... not right. As if your mind already knew what was going to happen before it actually did. But no one can really know that for sure. That's why it's called a gut feeling. And that feeling told you that today... You might just die.

You've tasted blood before. But for some reason this time it tasted sweet, rather than bitter, and full of iron. There wasn't much for you to focus on other than the lights from the ceiling flickering over your head. You faintly heard a doctor screaming, "We need to stop the bleeding! BP is dropping- Let's go! Now!"

How did you end up here again, violently broken and bleeding out? Oh, that's right... You were driving home after work. It was another late shift during the dead hours of the night. Drunk drivers were often out during these hours of the night. One just so happened to hit you, and now you're here in a hospital.

You just wanted to go home and sleep. You wanted to lay beside your husband and not have to worry about anything. That was not your case, however. And instead, you tried your best to speak. A nurse who was pushing you along the gurney said, "It's alright, we'll help you, you're safe now." But all you wanted to do was ask about your husband. For someone to tell him what was going on. You were sure he was at home, sleeping soundly and without a clue what had happened.

And Alastor wouldn't find out until the next morning. He'd wake up to several missed calls from dozens of people and some he didn't even know. This man didn't even get dressed. He ran out of the house still in his pajamas and floored it to the hospital. Along the way there, Alastor would throw a massive fit. He'd smash his hands on the steering wheel, beating himself up over not getting there sooner.

He'd curse and swear and honestly drive like a maniac. Every red light he got caught at only made him angrier with the world. His tires would spin and shoot smoke the second the light flickered green and off he rushed again.

Luckily, you were out of surgery long before Alastor got to the hospital. A nurse walked him to your room, and he found himself staring at a sight he'd never imagine. You were broken beyond belief. The nurse gave Alastor a sorry look, "Everything's stable, for now," The nurse said, "But...." She shook her head, "It was one of the worse car accidents we've ever seen. We did everything we could-"

"Coma..." Alastor said the single word, "Induced or?" The nurse shook her head.

"Brain damage, though there is still plenty of brain activity," That was good to hear. It meant you weren't brain dead... yet. The nurse gave him a sorry look, then with a nod of her head, she left him there. Alastor slowly walked into your room and closed the door behind him. He even turned all the blinds so no one could see in the little windows from the hallways. Everything felt wrong.

He stood at your bedside. Taking in everything. The tubes, the machines, the wires. Almost immediately he felt his eyes burn with the threat of tears. And when he placed a hand on your cheek he couldn't stop the waves of them rushing down his face.

The sheer pain of the situation made Alastor sob like a child for the first time in his adult life. He sat down beside you and grabbed your hand, "Dammit..." He squeezed tightly, "Dammit!" He let out a little shout and brought your hand to his cheek, "I hate this-" He let out a small cry, "I hate to see you like this, my poor dear-"

He couldn't stop the waves of tears sobbing from his eyes. He'd never let himself cry like this before, but he felt like if he didn't cry, he wouldn't have the chance to later. With anger, he ran a hand over his face, aggressively wiping his tears. He threw his glasses off his face and they clinked to the floor. Alastor's fingers ringed into his hair as he let out another sob and pushed his bangs out of his face. He had completely lost all of his composure. Every part of him was breaking down.

Alastor sat down in the chair by your bedside and buried his head in one of his hands. With his other hand, he still held firm to yours. His fingers dug into your skin as let out another sob, "Please-" He hiccuped, "Please...!" He looked up at your unconscious face with watery dark eyes, "Please be okay," He whispered the words out quickly as he brought your hand to his lips, "Please let me help you-" He spoke the words against your skin, "I want to help you- Please let me... Just!" He paused for another quick sob, "Please just give me a sign your still in there..."

He was never a man to pray to any kind of god. He didn't believe there was one, to begin with. But Alastor found himself praying, hoping that anything would happen. He couldn't lose you, and certainly not like this. You never sign any DNR papers or made it clear to your doctors that you didn't want to be resuscitated. But you did tell Alastor if there ever came a day that you needed machines to keep you alive, you had asked him to pull the plug.

With the weight of what was once just a silly conversation that had now come true, Alastor found himself drowning in misery. He rested his head on the back of your hand as sat in his chair. He looked at his glasses on the ground as tears splattered around them, "I don't want to kill you," He whispered with a cry, "I don't want to unplug you if there is a chance you'll come out of this."

The stone-cold silence lasted only a second between the beats of your heart monitor. A beep, then silence. Another beep, then silence again. Alastor found himself swelling with rage and anger, but mostly sadness. He shook his head slowly as he stared at the ground. This can't be happening... He thought This has to be a dream... This-

Something sounded off. The beeps were getting... faster? Alastor looked up and stared at the monitors. He didn't understand any of them, there were so many, but something was happening. He watched numbers flicker and change when suddenly he felt a tug at his hand.

You didn't make a sound or hardly move but you're squeezed his hand. Alastor had never been so hopeful for something so small. He shot out of his chair with enough force to tip it over behind him.

"Darling!?" Alastor firmly gripped your hand and leaned over you. He let his free hand brush your hair out of your face as he asked, "Darling, please, for the love of god- Can you hear me?"

He waited, and waited some more. Suddenly her felt your hand squeeze him again while he searched your face for any signs, "oh my god-" He whispered to himself as he watched your face twitch with pain before your eyes flickered open. With lightning speed Alastor ran to the door of your room and swung it open, "Someone get a nurse!" He shouted into the hallway, "Please!" He ignored most of the odd stares he was getting.

It wasn't a second later that a small team of nurses rushed in to check on you. You had certainly woken up and the tubes down your throat were not comfortable at all. The intubation tubes were removed, along with the feeding tubes, while others updated your stats. Alastor waited nervously in the corner of the room as he watched a team of people work over you. He felt so helpless that he couldn't watch for long. He'd leave the room and wait in the hallway, trying his best to ignore the painful coughs and groans as tubes were pulled out of your throat.

When the nurses left, Alastor quickly went back into the room and to your side. You had only just started breathing on your own again. It was much harder to breathe than ever before, but you still managed. You were still groggy, swore, and very much in pain. Despite this, you still let the smallest and weakest smile crawl along your lips, "Hey..." Was the first thing you said to your husband.

You watched as Alastor's eyes flickered all over your form. From the casts, the pins, the cuts, and bruises. He searched your face for serval minutes than began a weak laugh that sounded similar to a cry, "H-hey..." He said with a long sigh, he even tried to wear a smile that just didn't sit right on his face.

"Al..." You raised a weak and tired hand to his face. He immediately pressed his cheek into the palm of your hand and shook his head, "I'm sorry," You said. But you had nothing to be sorry for, you didn't cause this or intend for it to happen.

He couldn't say anything, Alastor was too caught up with his feelings. You watched him break down all over again as if he was still living with the fear that you might die, "Hey- hey," You raised your hand slightly and made him look at you, "I'm alright," It was hard to see him so broken down like this, "I'm okay, I'm here." You reassured him, "I'm not going anywhere."

Alastor shook his head quickly as if he didn't want to bother you with his feelings. He sucked in a quick gasp for air then sobbed out, "I'm not strong enough to deal with something like this- Ever-.... I can't lose you." He said quickly.

You couldn't really scoot over but thankfully the bed was rather large. You gave Alastor's arm a tug and he quickly climb in and curled up beside you. He was careful to stay clear of any broken bones as he made himself comfortable.

You stared at the ceiling while Alastor shut his eyes and buried himself into the crook of your neck, you used your free hand to comb his hair despite the pain it caused you to move, "That's alright," You finally told him, "No one is strong enough to deal with something like this. You're normally so tough and good at hiding your emotions. But you don't have to do that. I'm alive, I lived, I can be tough enough for the both of us, even if it's just for today."

Alastor curled himself as close as he could beside you. He wanted nothing more than to hide and forget about this day, he knew how impossible that was but he still wanted it. You could feel his tears running from his face and onto your skin. He couldn't stop crying when normally he never cried. He didn't even cry at his mother's funeral. Even though you were the one in the car accident, somehow you felt that Alastor was in the most pain.

"Please don't ever leave me," His voice was raspy and broken as he spoke against the skin of your neck.

With a sad and sorry look on your face, you did your best to pull him closer and wrap your arm around him. You pressed your forehead against his and you felt a set of tears drop from your eyes. You did your best to smile as you spoke, "I won't," You promised, "I'll never leave you, I'll always be here."