#bp angst hour

[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.

[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....

[scrollonso]

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.

[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.’ 

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

I know we all love to imagine Rick being a huge lovestruck simp for BP in the Flesh Curtains era but alternatively: completely clueless Rick who is still a huge lovestruck simp but doesn’t even realise what he’s feeling is a crush

Like he’s an emotionally constipated pansexual man raised in an extremely homophobic era falling in love for (probably) the first time since his wife was murdered, I bet he was repressing the hell out of those feelings for a long time

[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.

[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

[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."

[retrievablememories]

what happens at night | taeyong

title: what happens at night

characters: vampire!taeyong, reader, BP jisoo, side character ocs

genre: vampire!au, fantasy, angst

summary: There has been a vampire sighting in a nearby town. You and a few other amateur vampire hunters flock to the area for fun, but are soon in over your heads when you come face to face with a real vampire. 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some violence, use of weapons, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing

a/n: i got the prompt for this fic from this writing prompt post

writing vampire fic just reveals that i am maybe a little too intrigued with finding different ways to describe blood, lmao

also, this picture...are you fuckin kidding me

"Y/N, look. You aren’t gonna believe this.”

Adrienne holds the digital ledger out in front of you, and you look at it with tired, uninterested eyes until your brain registers what you’re seeing. Your eyes light up as you recognize whose face is on the screen.

“Taeyong.”

You take the ledger from her as she offers it to you, holding it tight with both hands.

“The Vampire King?” Jisoo perks up and gets up from her seat to rush over to see the ledger, peering wildly over your shoulder. Likewise, Percy makes his way over to the rest of you at a slightly speedier gait than his usual unaffected amble.

“Can’t be,” he says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief even as he looks over your other shoulder.

“But it is.”

The ledger’s screen displays the seal of Hawthorn Academy and its vampire registry, which holds the name, age, suspected location, and family lineage of every registered vampire in the world, along with a plethora of other pertinent details. On Taeyong’s profile, there is the familiar portrait of him you’ve always seen—his hair styled perfectly and curling over his forehead, and his eyes dark, piercing, and shining vermillion.

Under the list of Status Updates, there is a new entry from yesterday—a sighting nearby in the city of Dresden. Within that entry, there is a blurry, zoomed-in photo of a man in a dark trench coat and black boots, walking away from the viewer and down a shadowy street lit up with lampposts, almost too vague to be worth deciphering to the average viewer; but that silhouette is unmistakable.

“When was the last time Taeyong was seen out in public? I can hardly believe it,” Jisoo says, her voice practically trembling with awe.

“If he’s letting himself be seen, he must have specific intentions...whatever those are,” Percy notes.

“Let’s go pay Dresden a visit,” Adrienne announces, darting off to her desk and starting to gather up her essentials—phone and silver staff among them.

“Go? Pay it a visit?” Percy echoes, his mouth rounding on the word go and his eyes widening.

“Of course! Why not? Isn’t this exciting? A sighting of the Vampire King so nearby, and so recently,” Jisoo replies, grinning with all her teeth. 

Percy narrows his eyes at her, uncertainty marring his features. “Yes, but what about dangerous?”

“Come on Percy, it’ll be fun,” you chime in. “Think of it as a field trip for baby vampire hunters. Dresden is huge, anyway, there’s like zero chance we’ll actually find him.”

“Just take it as more skills training,” Adrienne adds, grabbing her backpack and heading off to her quarters to get the rest of her things. “Except this time, we’re actually in the field instead of that same boring facility.”

Percy grumbles to himself, but he knows there’s nothing much left to argue about; when the three of you outvote him on a topic, he has no choice left.

--

By the time the four of you arrive at Dresden, it’s dusk. The perfect witching hour for the vampires to be out, with the last bleeding streaks of the sun fading out of the sky. The lack of sunlight unnerves Percy even more—you can tell by his disturbed countenance—but he says nothing. He quietly follows you out of the train once it stops.

On the outside, you all look like four regular sight-seeing young adults, taking a trip from the next city over and ready for a night on the town; but most of your weapons and gear are concealed within your clothes and the backpacks you wear.

“There’s a slight blood scent here,” you note, taking in a deep lungful of air once you notice it. Indeed, there is the lingering hint of sweetness and iron, and something more musky and earthy underneath it—like decaying organic matter. The smell every vampire hunter is trained to be able to recognize—the odor of a vampire who hasn’t taken their scent blockers.

“There is, though I’m just barely picking up on it,” Jisoo agrees, waving her hand across her nose and screwing her eyebrows up. “God, I’ll never get used to that.”

“Do you think he’s been here?” Adrienne asks, leading the pack as you all walk through the train station.

“I would think a high-ranking, old-ass vamp would know better than to leave their funk trailing everywhere,” Percy disagrees. “Maybe it’s a younger one.”

“Maybe we could get an actual kill tonight, then. Our first,” Adrienne suggests, and though her tone is nonchalant, her expression betrays her enthusiasm.

You chuckle. “Wishful thinking, but maybe that would make the seniors stop treating us like children for once.”

--

Your group ends up bouncing from the train station to a pub and then to a nearby park, where a festival is being held. There’s bright lanterns, food, dancing, singing, and little kids running around galore, which makes you think these citizens either don’t know about the recent vampire sighting in their area or don’t care.

You all spend an hour mingling around and checking out the festival’s fun-filled offerings, chatting in low tones about the recent vampire appearance and trying to put your skills to the test to scout out any other vampires that might be hiding in plain sight within this mass of people.

“Hey!” Adrienne’s shout rings across the area, and you whip your head around in shock as you watch her take off running behind some teenage boy, maybe 12 or 13 at most, who has managed to nip the digital ledger from her belt and take off with it.

“What the fuck?” Percy barks, and you all shoot each other a wild, surprised look before you and him follow behind her.

“Guys, really? Don’t leave me here!” Jisoo calls out from behind you. “You don’t need three people just to get the ledger back!”

You and Percy round the alley corner that Adrienne disappeared behind and spot her farther up ahead, still hot on the boy’s trail and cursing him profusely. He’s a lot faster than he looks. Just before you can get a good look at him, he’s turning down another road with her behind him.

“Maybe we can cut him off. I’ll go down one of the connecting streets,” Percy suggests.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“That ledger is too important to lose to some street urchin, and the seniors will never let us leave campus again if we come back without it. You go that way, I’ll be down here.” He’s ducking into an adjacent alley before you can even respond.

“Shit…” you sigh and shake your head before running down the road he indicated.

You unstrap your silver staff from a hidden section of your pants and extend it, just to be safe.

This land is not overly familiar to you, with you only having been to Dresden a couple times before. You carefully navigate your way through the maze of interconnecting streets, listening for Percy’s and Adrienne’s footfalls, which have become distinctive to you by now, and the sounds of Adrienne’s yelling. There are few people on the streets, most of them at the festival or in their homes, which makes it easier to navigate and watch for the others as you catch glimpses of them rushing past neighboring alleys.

Percy bursts into the same alleyway Adrienne is running down, finally trapping the boy between them on either end of the narrow passageway. However, the boy remains undeterred from Percy charging toward him as he deftly jumps up onto a nearby closed dumpster and uses it to launch himself over the older man.

“Shit!” Percy makes a mad grab for the end of the boy’s shirt, but the boy is a few seconds faster and narrowly gives him the slip.

“Are you serious? You can’t catch a damn kid?!” Adrienne shouts; Percy only curses again and whips around to follow the boy.

You hear the commotion from a few roads over, and you make a beeline for the area.

Just before you make it there, Adrienne screams. The sound almost startles you into dropping your staff, and you tighten your grip around it. “Adrienne?! What’s happened?”

You reach the alleyway, your shoes skidding on the ground as you nearly overshoot it, but Adrienne is nowhere in sight. You look around confused and alarmed with your chest heaving, but there is no trace of her — when she was there only seconds ago. “Adrienne?” Repeating her name still doesn’t bring her out, and you see nothing as you walk farther into the narrow back street and search every shadow and corner. Something dark and distressing settles in your stomach, and when you catch a whiff of that blood-decay smell on the night breeze, your unease turns into an avalanche of fear.

“Percy,” you whisper, and you take off again. “Percy!”

Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, nearly blocking out all other sounds, and your legs and arms burn as you run. You are abruptly stopped in your tracks as there is another shorter sound, like someone suddenly being cut off in the middle of a scream.

You desperately want to call out for him, and the syllables of his name crawl up your throat though you struggle to contain them. The blood-decay smell still inundates your senses, and whatever vampire is skulking around this maze of streets with you is likely still present somewhere. You don’t want to call any attention to yourself with a shout, though it may already be too late. 

With a spiny chill driving itself down your back, you realize everything is suddenly silent. No insects, no night birds, no other people on the streets surrounding you.

Pushing the button on your staff ejects the silver blades from both ends, and you hold it for dear life as you stand in the middle of the dim alley, shivering despite your sweat and waiting for any hint that the monster is approaching you.

It happens so quickly that it’s almost outside of your perception.

The air around you grows significantly colder even with the existing chill from the early-winter season, and you shudder once more, your jaw clenching and molars chattering against each other. When you blink again, he is standing in front of you.

Taeyong.

Melting out of the shadows and becoming one with them all at the same time, a strange liminality similar to his existence—being alive and dead in the same time and space.

His mouth and chin are wet and red from blood, presumably that of your friends and teammates, which sends an intense ache through your stomach. The newness and excitement of the vampire sighting has drained out of you, replaced with stone cold dread. You’re not sure what any of you were thinking. Percy tried to warn you, but now he is likely dead for it.

Maybe it’s a foolish move. All your training has gone out the window in your panic and fear. You make a sloppy, sudden swipe at his front with the blade of your staff; and the next thing you know, it’s flying out of your hand and clattering feet away. Behind him, and out of reach.

It takes a second for you to realize he’s knocked it out of your hand without even touching it or you; his own hand is still raised with the movement of telekinetically shifting the object. “You came terribly unprepared. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you fledglings.”

Your sweaty palm slides against the other leg of your pants where a smaller silver dagger is concealed in a tearaway pocket, but that idea is useless. In the time it’d take to get any weapon out, he could kill you.

“The Academy has really been in decline the last few decades. This is the caliber of hunters they’re putting out now?” Taeyong sucks his teeth, and he takes a step closer to you. Your entire body is on high-alert, but you feel too stiff to move a muscle, and you vaguely wonder if this is somehow his doing, too. Only in the stillness of this moment do you realize that you cannot detect any of that blood scent coming directly from him, though the putridness of it still lingers in your nose. It’s coming from somewhere else, then. This confuses you more.

When he realizes you aren’t going to speak, he stops approaching you and takes a moment to really study your face, his big and curious eyes blinking slowly. The redness of his irises and the shiny, pale quality of his skin from the moonlight shining on it make him look just as surreal as he truly is.

“You’re a pretty thing. Maybe I could make you one of mine.”

“Never,” you blurt out, and it’s the first thing you can bring yourself to say to the Vampire King.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Taeyong reaches for your chin. His fingers brush the underside of it, the coolness of his skin freezing you, before you snatch away from his touch, stumbling backwards. A flash of irritation sparks on his face. 

His hand reaches for you again, this time clasping at the back of your neck, and it is impossible to move away quickly enough. “Don’t waste any more of your time fighting. This will all be over soon. Well—this life, anyway.”

His teeth in your neck are sharper than needles, making your nerves twinge with stabbing pain; and then it’s strangely pleasant, like having painkillers injected into your veins. You can’t feel anything anymore except warmth and endorphins and his fangs inside you as the alley around you smears into a bunch of incomprehensible shapes—bricks, streetlights, strewn trash, Taeyong.

--

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar bed. You startle out of unconsciousness sweating and frightened, but with barely enough strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Looking around doesn’t provide you with many more clues; this space is murky with darkness, and your vision is foggy. You think you can make out the rectangular shape of a large curtained window, but it’s unclear.

You’re still wearing your clothes from the trip, although your backpack is now gone. Your throat has never felt drier in your life, and the pounding in your head threatens to split it clean apart.

You feel sick and feverish, like your body is trying to fight against some virus it’s picked up, but you haven’t the slightest idea where you could’ve contracted anything—you didn’t even eat at the festival—until you remember—

A door opens with a bang somewhere in the distance, and it isn’t until the footsteps grow nearer and a blurry figure approaches the bed that you realize the door is the entrance of the room you're in.

“You’ll want to feed soon.” As soon as those words break the quiet, you’re struck by the pungent smell of blood. Unlike the relative lack of response it would elicit any other time, its aroma pokes at a sudden and peculiar craving inside of you, and you find yourself futilely scrabbling on the bed to reach the source. “Lucky you. I have just what you need.”

There is a cold hand tilting your face up, the press of equally cold glass against your bottom lip, then the tang of blood entering your mouth. It is the best thing you have ever tasted, and a slowly dying, still-human part of you is horrified.

You finish the blood quickly. It doesn’t really seem like enough, but it does make you feel a little less like you’re actively decomposing. Despite your hazy vision, there is no misreading the small smile on Taeyong’s face.

“Happy Birthday, little one.”

[let-them-read-fics]

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies​: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul  --  8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon. 

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner. 

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks. 

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile. 

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease. 

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.” 

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic. 

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night. 

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement. 

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm. 

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you. 

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?” 

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her. 

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers. 

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

---- 

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!” 

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute. 

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart. 

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again. 

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight. 

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number. 

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts. 

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.” 

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above. 

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat. 

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it. 

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers. 

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips. 

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you. 

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house. 

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice. 

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before. 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs. 

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio." 

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house. 

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself. 

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her. 

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out. 

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit. 

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy. 

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note. 

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know. 

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

-----  La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make. 

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.  

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away. 

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would. 

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake. 

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself. 

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone. 

“Come downstairs, please.” 

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way. 

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left. 

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.” 

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.” 

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her. 

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out. 

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head. 

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies. 

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them. 

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet. 

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…” 

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...