#i miss the feeling truly and deeply understood

[dr-hanwool]

Hanwool felt as though the atmosphere between himself and Rain was relaxed tonight, due to a mixture of their drinks and their light-hearted conversation. Sure Hanwool was flirting, but Rain being responsive and flirting back with him. If Rain was offended, if the other wasn't into it, if the escort was uncomfortable, Hanwool would stop. He knew he was the client here - Hanwool was paying, he could ask anything of Rain, he was well within his right to as per the The Playroom rules, but how could he, when it would make his partner unhappy? Or angry? Or upset? That was the last thing Hanwool wanted. And even if he desired Rain so deeply, carnally, with every fibre of his being, he would not force him into the backroom like how some of the other low-life clients at this place would.

When Rain joined him there, it would be because they both wanted it.

Seeing that Rain was enjoying his jokes was enough for Hanwool for now, who kept them coming. The escort looked as though he were trying not to show that he was amused, but the crinkle next to his gorgeous eyes was telling of his true feelings. Hanwool liked that Rain was still trying to keep up his appearances - it made their time in the booth all the more special. Like they were in on a secret that nobody else was aware of.

One of the rare, genuine requests that Hanwool had for Rain was that the escort call him 'hyung'. It wasn't just because he was more used to Korean, he wasn't exactly missing the language since he spoke it fairly frequently even in Thailand to his family and his patients, but more because it was a way for he and Rain to connect a little more deeply. He knew that to Rain he was just a meal ticket, but if tonight was any indication, they could become closer. They didn't have to remain client-and-escort forever.

Truly, Hanwool wasn't expecting Rain to actually say it, especially after he commented that Hanwool was feeling comfortable. He was, he would admit it, but so was Rain, so could the escort blame him? Hanwool wouldn't have been mad if Rain continued to call him Khun. But then, the escort surprised him - that was happening a lot tonight.

"But since I asked, I guess I have to do it... Right, Hyung?"

Hanwool let out a shuddering breath, his eyes darkening at the way Rain uttered his name. The man was an expert at working his client, that was for sure, and Hanwool was all the more thankful for it. He wondered what Rain would sound like moaning that repeatedly in his ear while Hanwool fucked him deeply.

"I'll call you 'hyung' if you want me to but only if it's just the two of us. In front of everyone, you're Khun Hanwool, understood?"

Hanwool's composure returned as he smiled at the escort, nodding his head once. "Perfectly fine with me." He said, once again amused by the confidence of the escort. Setting his own demands, even after a client request - Hanwool wondered if only Rain could get away with such things. In the drinks he shared with other patrons of The Playroom while he waited for his booking time, Rain was discussed as the only escort who posed such a challenge for his clients. There were even discussions of which person would eventually crack Rain's code, get him into the backroom and make him eat those words, repaying him back for all the swats on the arm. Hanwool hated that talk, and would glare at the other patrons while they laughed about it. But Hanwool knew that his Rain would never allow such a thing to happen to him. That fire, that spirit - it kept him alive in this life, especially in a place like this.

When Hanwool bought up the backroom, Rain asked him if that's what he had been thinking this entire time. He shook his head no, because there were other thoughts occupying his mind, though they did mostly centre around the escort beside him. Since when did the two of them get so close, by the way? Hanwool had inched closer when he had felt Rain's heart, but it appeared that the two remained in proximity. He could feel the warmth of Rain's body beside him, their shoulders almost touching.

Asking for a kiss on the cheek was bold, Hanwool knew, but he figured if Rain didn't want to do it, then he wouldn't. It had been proven to Hanwool time and time again that whenever Rain didn't want to engage in an activity, he made it clear.

So when instead, Rain's hand was gently placed on the side of Hanwool's face and the escort tongue his lips and leaned forward, Hanwool was so shocked he could hardly move.

Rain's plush and wet lips brushed up again Hanwool's own, the residual saliva cool on the doctor's skin where it dragged against his mouth and cheek.

"You moved." Rain whispered, though Hanwool had done no such thing. Did that mean...

Rain had wanted to kiss him?

It was a small hope, and Hanwool reached out to hold onto Rain's arm, gently, keeping him close. He leaned forward, dark eyes curiously peering into Rain's, trying to decipher the reason. He would not have kissed him just because Hanwool had asked - there had to be another explanation.

"Did you do that because you wanted to? Or because I asked?" Hanwool was curious as to the answer the escort would give him. "If you wanted to kiss me on the lips instead of the cheek, all you have to do is say so." Hanwool told him softly. "You're the escort and I'm the client, but we both know by now that you're not one to be controlled. And I like that about you." Hanwool admited. "If you want something from me... tell me, and I'll give it to you. Like you allowed me to feel your heart, I can give you something too. Do you want me to kiss you, Rain? Do you want me to touch you and make you feel good? Because I can. I can do it, but only if you want me to."

Hanwool's fingers released the hold they had on Rain's arm. He stroked the bare, smooth skin with the back of his hand, his touch lingering far more than he was probably allowed with Rain. But as usual, if Rain wanted to smack his hand away, he would. It wouldn't offend Hanwool or pain him at all - but it would hopefully tell him what Rain was okay with, similarly to the questions he had just asked the escort.

Hanwool felt lighter than he had in years the more he and Rain interacted. The way they were talking right now made it seem as if they had known each other for years, the conversation and flirtations flowing easily from both sides. Both. Whatever Hanwool said to Rain, the escort was responding in kind, showing the doctor pieces of his personality. Rain portrayed himself with confidence, not afraid to swat his clients' wandering hands whenever they got too close, and shut down all kinds of suggestive talk. He had done it to Hanwool too, many times,. so the doctor very rarely got to see this side of the man. Almost playful, light-hearted, challenging.

The smile that barely showed on Rain's lips was evidence enough for Hanwool that the escort was enjoying himself. Whether or not he was doing so as part of the job, Hanwool didn't care because it was different than normal. It was progress. So, Hanwool continued with his pick-up lines, his smile growing when he saw how Rain was unable to hide his own. The younger man even chuckled, the sound soft but light, pleasant on the ears, indulging the doctor's flirting.

"Are you gonna use more cheesy pick-up lines to get my heart racing? Because I'm gonna tell you now, Khun, they're not working."

Hanwool took a little sip of his drink after hearing that, his eyes shining playfully as he gazed longingly at the man beside him. Rain claimed they weren't working, but Hanwool was sure they had some effect on him - the teasing, the flirting back, the smiling, the light laughter... all of that was proof. Maybe Rain's heart mightn't be racing as the escort so claimed, but Hanwool was sure that at the very least it was beating faster than normal, from the excitement and the freshness of a new experience between them.

There was a change in the atmosphere between them, when Hanwool forwent his flirting to instead assure the other of his honesty. About how he wanted Rain to know he wouldn't hurt him, that he wanted to earn his trust. Rain's reaction reflected the shift from playful to seriousness, if only for a moment. Then, the escort spoke again.

"That's your purpose. To save people. I admire that. But you can't save everyone, Doc."

Hanwool was silent for a moment, before he let out a singular, rough laugh. "Ha!" He exclaimed, shaking his head and instantly reaching for the alcohol. "Can't save everyone. Isn't that the sad truth of this world..." He mused, talking mostly to himself than to Rain, before downing whatever was left in the glass in one full swoop, letting it burn his throat. The doctor knew from his profession that Rain was right. Medically speaking, there were many cases that could not be solved successfully, no matter how hard Hanwool tried. He found himself internally agreeing. No, Hanwool supposed. He couldn't save everyone. There were many people he had failed, including the one person who should have mattered to him most. He hadn't saved Yeong.

But he could save Rain, in his place.

Hanwool put his glass down, not quite yet done with the alcohol for the night but not asking Rain to pour him anymore. The escort had asked him something, sliding in closer to the booth beside him, so close that if Hanwool reached out he would be able to touch him again. Feel that firm chest, that held his beating heart beneath.

"You still have a lot of time. And you paid extra. Anything else you want me to do for you? Anything you want me to call you? I guess it's your lucky night tonight."

"Hmm..." Hanwool hummed, tapping his fingers on the table as he contemplated Rain's request. His teasing smile returned and he leaned in closer, eyes shining anew. "You can call me yours."

He was joking, on the outside. Rain didn't need to know how serious he was on the inside.

"I'm kidding," Hanwool assured the other, lest he get swatted for his cheesy and outdated pick up lines again. He was already testing that with how close he was sitting to the escort, and how the hand he had been resting on the table was slowly inching its way towards Rain. "But... I would rather you not call me Khun, anymore. Could you instead call me Hyung?" A change in honorific might help further establish how close Hanwool had become to Rain, during the course of the month he had been visiting The Playroom.

"If all else fails, we could just go to the backroom." Hanwool teased again. It wouldn't be an escort service date with Rain without Hanwool fooling around about the two of them using the private rooms in the back, despite both of them knowing that was never going to happen. "Or... a kiss on the cheek?" He said playfully, tapping his cheek. He wondered if Rain, in his relaxed state, would actually do it this time. If not... ah, well. A love slap was also welcome.

[child-of-leviathan]

It sucks when you're the fucking therapist friend and hear all about your single friends' struggles with finding the right man for them and they'll come complaining, venting, ranting to me about it but I can't just have a conversation about how much I miss my best fucking friend, my soulmate, my fucking mirror, the person who essentially saved my life. You can love many people in a multitude of ways, and even though our paths split for some time, he'll always be my best friend

[breadbrobin]

call it what you want

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of aphrodite reader]

summary: he fell first, you fell harder, and all at once.

warning: tooth-rotting fluff. literally i think that’s it it’s just sickeningly cute

word count: 2.1k

(the luke brainrot is so real i wrote this at like 4am last night plsss)

——————————————

luke castellan thought you could have hung the stars in the sky. he wouldn’t know any different, nor would he care to find out. in his mind, you were perfect. the most perfect, in fact.

there was one person that no one could hate at camp, and that was you. a friend to all who’d have you, a sister to those who needed you, and whatever you were to luke.

not even you understood the nature of your relationship with him.

years of friendship slowly became changed, twisted, slightly more than you’d bargained for. it was a happy change. realising you were in love with luke castellan was an ever-continuous process—a little one day, a little more another. but for luke… gods, realising he was in love with you came as easy as breathing. every smile on your lips, every laugh, every surreptitious look across rooms set his heart aflame. fluttering, dancing, swirling.

it wasn’t like you didn’t love him. you did. you surely did. but time hadn’t been kind to your heart and children of aphrodite have never been truly lucky in love. helping others achieve their loves was more common. more often than not, you and your siblings were happy with just that.

“anyone you got your eye on?” you asked one day as you sat with luke on the dock. your bare feet dangled into the water, toes just touching the cool surface.

“maybe. maybe not. when are you leaving?” he avoided the question, gazing out at the water and squinting in the glare of the sun.

“two weeks. i’m staying for my birthday this year.” you looked over at him. “you can tell me who it is, you know? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

he shot you an exasperated look. “what makes you think there is someone, princess?”

you lean over and nudge his arm teasingly, missing the blush on his face. “you’ve been distracted lately. quiet. you smile more though, and i’ve seen you blushing. who is it?”

“maybe i’m sick. what if i’m dying, y/n? then what? you’re assuming i’m in love when i’m actually dying?”

you raised your hands mockingly. “hey, you’re the one who mentioned love, pal. not me. ask yourself about that one.”

he rolled his eyes and elbowed you gently with a soft smile. his smiles were always soft, you realised. gentle and kind—two words you’d use to describe luke castellan any chance you got. you looked at him in the sunlight. and pretty, you thought. gentle, kind and pretty.

late nights were always for thinking.

you’d had trouble sleeping since you were a kid. not just the typical demigod issues with nightmares, but difficulty falling asleep in the first place. when those times struck, and the late hours before midnight slipped by, your thoughts wandered.

as always, your thoughts circled a few items; your family, your friends, then, always, luke.

he was separate to your friends, always had been. you didn’t really know why.

gentle, kind and pretty, you recalled. it had been a few days since the lake and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about who he was in love with. was there some person out there at camp who held his heart, truly and deeply? why did your chest ache? were you having a heart attack?

you pressed your fingers to your pulse point in concern, then pulled them away after a few seconds. you were fine. why did you feel like that?

no one ever said children of aphrodite weren’t oblivious to their own feelings.

time ticked by into the small hours of the morning, and still you couldn’t find sleep.

you rolled out of bed and stepped into your slippers, pulling a fluffy robe around your body and stepping out into the warm night. the air was still and calm, a juxtaposition to your whirling mind as you crossed the camp, stepping down paths and stepping over tree roots in a manner you’d memorised from countless treks on similar nights.

the hermes cabin was always warmer than your own, but tonight the heat was almost stifling. you could feel the heat heavy in the air as you breathed, and sweat beaded on your lip as you crossed the cabin silently to luke’s bed.

he was sleeping half sitting up, a colouring book and set of pencils splayed out on his lap. it was one you’d bought him for his birthday years ago. you had no idea he even used it.

quietly, you packed away the pencils and put them and the book on the side table. as you did, luke’s eyes cracked open. he frowned.

“y/n? are you okay?” he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straight and stretching his neck.

“can’t sleep,” you whispered.

he nodded and pushed his sheets off. he pulled a sweatshirt on and led you out of the cabin.

this was normal for you both. if one couldn’t sleep, you’d find the other and keep each other company until you felt you could rest. it was always nice knowing someone was there to talk to, or even just sit with. there was never resentment, never irritation from the other person. you would always come find each other. finding each other was like second nature to the two of you. you swore you could find luke in any situation, with your eyes closed, all your senses blotted out, by instinct and connection alone. you could find luke castellan without even a second thought.

you sat on the porch of the cabin with your legs hanging over the edge. luke’s legs were crossed.

“what are we doing for your birthday?” he asked finally.

you shrugged. “nothing, probably. maybe i’ll get some cake. i don’t know.”

“you didn’t do anything last year,” he protested. “you need to this year. it’s the big 18.”

“we didn’t do much for your eighteenth.”

he shrugged. “we did more than nothing, though, pretty girl. come on, we have to do something.”

you shook your head. “you wanna do something, you can plan it, pretty boy. i don’t mind.”

he sighed dramatically, leaning back and lying down on the rough wood. “fine. i will.”

you laughed quietly and lay back next to him, staring up at the wooden overhang above you.

you could feel his body heat against your arm as it lay between you. he was like a furnace, honestly, always radiating heat. it was nice in winter, but oftentimes stifling in summer. this was not one of those times. instead, you revelled in the closeness between you and almost—selfishly, confusingly—wished you were closer. maybe even close enough to touch.

your birthday was a quiet affair. your siblings wished you happy birthday and gave you a handful of small gifts, mostly beauty products and clothes that would fit you perfectly, even a cute bikini you put on under your clothes, and then you all went on with your day.

it was nice, honestly, getting well wishes but little attention. you needed no celebration or pizzazz, just friends, smiles and the occasional hug.

arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you yelped in shock and turned around, finding yourself face to face with luke. he had a bright smile on his face and a smudge of glitter on his cheek.

you reached up and ran your finger over it, trying gently to remove some to no avail. “you have glitter.”

“i have glitter everywhere. i guess that’s what you get for asking one of my siblings for wrapped paper.” he removed his arms from your waist to reveal a poorly wrapped gift in purple glittery paper.

you laughed, taking it. “i’m surprised you haven’t got more of it on you.”

“oh, believe me, princess, i do.” he cringed, stepping back slightly. “happy birthday.”

you smiled up at him and opened the present, ignoring the glitter sticking to your hands and the warmth in your chest and cheeks.

he thought you looked like the sun had come down to earth.

it was a colouring book and a set of pencils. you smiled widely and flipped through the pages, revealing beautiful art. “you remembered i wanted one?”

“yeah, mostly because you kept stealing mine to colour in,” he teased. “but of course i did.”

you reached out and hugged him. “thank you, luke!”

“come on,” he pulled back and took your hand. “present isn’t done yet.”

“what have you planned?” you groaned half-heartedly as he pulled you through camp, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides.

“don’t sound so scared, princess, it’s a good thing. i promise.”

you just sighed with a smile and let him lead you to the dock.

there was a small basket at the end of it.

you gasped excitedly. “luke, you…”

“happy birthday, y/n.” he sat down and pulled you gently down to sit next to him. he opened the the picnic basket and handed you a sandwich and a mini juice box with a bashful grin. “i would’ve sprung for coke but mr d. has a monopoly on the stuff around here.”

you laughed slightly and began eating, sitting cross-legged and looking out at the lake. the sun beat down on your back and your entire body felt warm. you suddenly weren’t sure how much of that warmth was from the sun, and how much of it was from love.

love.

whoa.

you froze with your juice box halfway to your lips.

luke looked over at you. “you okay?”

you nodded slowly, eyes wide, and set down your juice and sandwich. “i wanna swim.”

he frowned. “okay? now?”

you nodded and stood up. you were wearing your new bikini anyway, so you just pulled your shirt over your head and dropped your shorts next to it. “you coming?”

his eyes were slightly wide, but he nodded and stood up, setting his food down too and removing his over clothes.

you sat down on the dock and slid into the water. it was cold, but more refreshing than shocking. you swam out a few paces as luke jumped in directly, the splash hitting you.

“luke!” you gasped as he surfaced.

he just laughed. “sorry, princess. you’re in the water anyway.”

you pouted at him, but couldn’t stay mad, instead, you watched him as he floated a few feet from you.

he looked confused. “are you okay? was it the sandwich?”

you shook your head. “the sandwich was fine. i’m just…” you pursed your lips and swam slightly closer. “was it me?”

he frowned even deeper. “was what you?”

“when i asked you the other day, you said you were in love with someone. was it me?”

you felt a little bad for putting him on the spot as he looked away, abashed, but when he looked back at you, eyes strong and jaw set, and said, “yes,” you didn’t regret a thing.

“why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“why not?” he shrugged. “why does the sun shine? why does the wind blow? just because that’s the way things are. and i guess… yeah, me being in love with you is the way it is.”

you were silent for a moment, a small smile on your face. “well, that’s good then. i’m not sure how long this has actually been a thing, luke castellan, but i guess that me being in love with you is also… just the way it is.”

he swam slightly closer, a smile breaking across his face. gentle, kind, pretty. “yeah?”

“yeah, pretty boy. now kiss me. it’s my birthday, after all.”

“yes ma’am,” he grinned. one of his hands slid around your waist, warm as ever in the cold water, and he pulled you closer to him. he savoured the moment for a beat, just studying your face, memorising the look in your eyes, the sun on your skin and the soft smile on your lips. then he pressed his lips to yours.

you finally understood what people meant when they said ‘fireworks’. they were right. kissing luke was like playing with fire or dancing in the rain, or watching christmas lights twinkle. it was exhilarating, sweet and safe all at the same time; pure and honest love. and he was one damn good kisser.

when he pulled away you were out of breath, treading water still. you swam backwards, pulling him with you by the hand on the back of his neck until you were in the cool shade of the dock, using it to keep you afloat. it was much colder under there, but at least now you had him to keep you warm.

[gay-dorito-dust]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[dragonsfictavern]

Brighter Than The Sun

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: I have no idea if this was a prompt I saw somewhere or if this was completely out of my brain, the idea was from months ago and I finally got around to writing it.

summary: With the parasite no longer in your brains, Astarion can no longer go into the sun. You try everything you can think of to help him experience the same heat but with no luck. Until you think to use yourself as a means for Astarion to feel the suns warmth once more.

word count: 1.7k

From the shadows he watches you, his red eyes almost gleaming and noticeable through the darkness. He stands behind the door, watching you, waiting for you… He needs you and yet he knows you need to stay away, if only for a little while longer. Long enough to get what he wants.

Astarion stands behind the door of the home you two share together in Baldur's Gate. With the parasite long gone and his ascension a trickle of a memory, Astarion has long since been unable to walk in the sun. It spurns him once more as if his mask had been unveiled and even the sun could see what he truly was. While on the other hand, darkness has greeted him back like an old friend and he remains cursing it.

More than anything he yearns to once more see the color in the world, to feel its warmth on his cold skin. But even after years of searching, he feels as though you two aren’t any closer to finding a cure, from ridding him of the curse forced upon him so long ago. Even so, his mind stays focused on the task and it touches him deeply that it remains in yours as well.

Which is what has brought along today’s events. When reality had first set in, Astarion couldn’t ever explain the despair he felt toward never being able to feel the sun’s warmth again. But he didn’t have to explain. He knew you understood, he knew you saw him for all he was. You have for probably much longer than he gave you credit for. Always the one to try and fix things, Astarion wasn’t surprised when you tried thinking of clever ways he’d be able to feel the sunlight again. You had tried creating the hottest of fires and yet it didn’t feel the same. Nothing ever felt the same. Astarion had given up and urged you to do the same. He should’ve known you well enough by now to know that wasn’t something you were capable of.

So this morning when you began guiding him toward the door, Astarion briefly questioned if he was being led to his demise. If you had finally gotten tired of him and decided to end it all. Of course you hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Who’d ever get tired of him, after all… He only resisted briefly until you ended up explaining your entire plan to him. To have you stand in the sun and then shut the door and hug him. So that way, he may once again feel the heat of the sun against warm flesh.

Astarion’s heart swelled, lips parted as he struggled to react and while he still couldn’t quite express his gratitude and affections out loud, he knew he could show you them through his actions and it would always mean just as much. He may have thought the plan ridiculous, silly even, but it was your attempt that moved him. The way you never gave up on him. Now here you two are, you out in the sun as he lurks in the depths of the shadows. Astarion’s lips part as he watches you bask in the sunlight's rays, your eyes closed and a soft smile on your face.

Whilst always beautiful, Astarion remains even more assured that you are most beautiful in the sun. His feelings toward you both similar in the weight you hold in his heart. His eyes trial over your form, looking on as the sunlight highlights your complexion, the sun shimmering across your skin. The way it flickers off of you, making you appear even more brighter and full of life. Astarion watches it all, his attentions never having been more focused. He couldn’t dare look away from you and miss a moment of this.

You were so close and yet so far and as Astarion looked upon your beauty, memories from before starts flooding through his mind of him out there with you. Astarion couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out to you. He didn’t think, too caught up in how much he wanted you near. Not because of the sun but simply because you were you.

As his hand falls into a faint sliver of sun, instead of the comforting warmth he has shamefully become accustomed to, the familiar burning radiates across his skin. The sound of his skin sizzling rang in the quiet air and instead of peace the sun now brings panic, causing Astarion to release a high-pitched hiss. You jump, opening your eyes and looking over at him as Astarion quickly draws his hand back. You take a step to him but he uses that same hand to motion for you to stop.

“No! Don’t come closer. Just stay out there… for a little while longer,” Astarion pleads, brows furrowing deeply. It wasn’t until this moment, this instant where he’s reminded of the pain the sun has the power to inflict upon him, that he thinks your once silly idea may actually be important.

“Astarion-“ You try, tilting your head, eyes on his crackling hand that already starts to heal itself. But it’s one shake from his head that has you quieting. The softness in his gaze that has you stopping from stepping into his darkness. You look over him before giving a tentative nod. Your body turns back toward the sun within the space of the open door, but your eyes occasionally flicker over to him.

His fingers press into the flesh as it returns to its original smooth texture, the only trace of it being the faint throbbing that was already starting to fade too. As Astarion stares at you as you stand in the one place he could not reach you, despair flowers in his chest like a plague. You two are so different. While dealing with the parasite, while able to walk into the sun, Astarion could simply ignore it, not think about it because there were so many other important things to think about. Could push their differences aside in order to use you, then eventually love you.

But all that was gone now. You could walk in the day while he was stuck in the shadows. Even while only inches away, to Asatrion, it was like he could see an invisible barrier set between you both. A force that stops him from being with you, touching you. Something he could never cross so long as he was like this— a vampire spawn.

He was not good for you, he knew. All this time, Astarion allowed himself to be greedy, convinced himself that you need him as much as he needs you. But his love was doing exactly what the dark was doing to him. Trapping you. He was sure that if your heart wasn’t so big, you’d be out in the sun more often. Like you deserved.

Then you did the most peculiar thing. In a flash, you were closing the door, objecting yourself to the dark, and you reach for him. One hand wrapping around his waist as the other grips the nape of his neck. Both use their strength to pull him into you. Before Astarion can process what’s happening, you’re hugging him.

Warmth radiates off your skin and spreads over his. You guide Astarion’s head into your neck, letting him feel all the heat the sun left on you. Now, after this time being with him, Astarion doesn’t hesitate to hug you back. His arms wrap around you firmly as he exhales a shaky breath.

“I could feel you thinking from all the way over there,” your smooth voice washes over him, making warmth spread within him as well as across his body. He burrows closer to you, soaking up everything your skin was offering. He could imagine the fierce sun and how it must have felt upon first contact. But somehow, when it was you providing it instead of the sun, it was better. So much better.

He finally had you in his arms and the fog that moments prior were tormenting him now clear away. As you imply, he was thinking too much. He was spiraling and second guessing himself and even worse, you. He knows that you would never truly do something you didn’t want. You wouldn’t be with him unless it’s what you wanted. He didn’t have the power to trap you and he would never want it. While he can’t deny your differences, he also can’t say they’re a bad thing. He likes that you’re not the same person. Although, Astarion would dare say he’d make a lovely suitor for himself if the chance arose.

“What ever are you talking about, darling?” Releasing a light-hearted chuckle along with the question. Astarion’s hand brushes along your neck as well, the skin feeling even warmer here. Everything in him tells him to hide his feelings, to brush them aside and offer a short quip. While he knows he’ll end up telling you everything later, right now he can’t help but evade the vulnerability that was controlling him.

“Oh, I must be seeing things, then,” you tease right back, understanding Astarion and playing along with it. Astarion closes his eyes, gratefulness filling his body and pouring out in his physical contact with you.

“Hmm, must get that checked out,” he shoots back, not able to stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. You both end up laughing together and the peace that spreads through the atmosphere around you two reminds him why he never ends up keeping anything from you anymore. He learned his lesson once before.

The two of you fall into a peaceful silence as you remain hugging in the darkness. Your skin quickly grows colder again, losing what your time in the sun left you with. Even so, neither of you step away from the hug.

“You know, out of all the ways you’ve attempted to give me back sunlight, I have to say, this is by far my favorite,” Astarion admits, moving to rest his forehead against yours. The warmth he feels with you blazes hotter than any sun could ever supply him. He hears as your heart picks up and your neck once again becomes warmer than the rest of your body. Astarion does not hold back his grin, informing you of his awareness, yet remains still as he enjoys what he can get.

Astarion keeps you close as he realizes that any lack of sun is worth it when he gets moments like this in return.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hello, talented human!!! I’m craving something angsty that makes my heart hurt with Emily and girlfriend reader <3

Hey, friend! I've been thinking about writing this for a while, and your request was the perfect excuse. Very angsty, much sadness. Not resolved per se, but if you know the basic timeline/plot line of Season 6, you should be able to infer a somewhat happy ending 😉 Hope you enjoy! 💖 –illdowhatiwantthanks

White Fang

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, angst, general threats of Criminal Minds-style violence, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Something's going on with Emily, but her trying to break up with you is the last thing you expected. Takes place during the events before/surrounding 06.18.

“I think we should break up.”

Emily might as well have punched you in the stomach. You felt blood rushing in your ears, felt the love and trust you’d built with her over the last few years churn and unsettle themselves inside of you. Her words had taken you completely off guard. All you’d asked is why she seemed so on edge these days, if there was something you could do to help her.

“Emily…” you said, your voice floundering as you tried not to cry. You had arguments. You had points to make, but you couldn’t seem to get them out.

Emily folded her hands as she sat across from you at the kitchen table, both of your breakfasts sitting untouched in front of you. She shrugged.

“I just… I think our relationship has run its course.”

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss,” you spat, your face growing redder by the second. “We live together. I’m in your will. We’ve been together for four years. Four years! We have a cat together!” you yelled, gesturing wildly toward Sergio, who perched in the bay window.

She was silent, picking at the ends of her fingernails, glancing at you every few seconds. She was lying. She had to be lying. You were no profiler, but you knew Emily. You knew all her tells. You knew when she was stressed, when she was lying, when she was trying to do something brave and sacrificial to protect you.

“I want your stuff out by the end of the week,” she said quietly.

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. In your head, you knew that there was something under the surface. Something had Emily so scared that she was trying to… And then a lightbulb went on in your head.

You sat back in your seat and smirked. “No.”

Emily raised her eyebrows, frustrated. “No?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No. I think you’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.”

“I think you are. I think you’re trying to White Fang me.”

Now she just looked confused. “I’m trying to what?”

“White Fang me,” you repeated. “You know, like in the book, where he lets the wolf go because it’s better for him in the wild. You’re trying to get rid of me because you think I’ll be better off without you.”

“I’m trying to get rid of you because I don’t feel that way about you anymore,” Emily said, but her voice cracked a bit, and you knew then that you were right.

“No, you’re not!” you exclaimed, sighing in frustration. You moved to the chair closest to her and took her hands in yours, even as she tried to avoid your eyes.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” you asked quietly. “I promise I can handle it. I love you, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Your White Fang plan won’t work on me, so you might as well tell me about whatever it is that’s got you so scared.”

Emily’s jaw clenched, and you could see tears forming in her eyes.

You brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her face in your hands. “Please tell me, Em.”

She finally met your eyes, and the unadulterated fear written all over Emily’s face was the first part of this conversation that had truly scared you.

She sighed deeply and shook her head, her demeanor going cold as she watched you. “If I tell you what’s going on, you have to do exactly what I tell you to. Understood?”

You nodded apprehensively.

“I mean it,” she said, eyes drilling into you, voice harsher than usual. “This is not a game. The more information you have, the more danger you're in. This is life and death. I am sorry you’re a part of it…” Emily bit her lip and looked away. “I need to know that you'll follow my instructions exactly.”

“Okay,” you agreed, quiet, more scared now than you’d been when she’d tried to break up with you.

“You remember I told you that, before I joined the FBI, I worked at the CIA and at Interpol?”

You nodded. Emily tugged on the strands of hair closest to her ear–an anxious habit–and you took her hand in yours, running your thumb along the back of it.

“When I worked at Interpol,” she continued, “I was undercover as an arms dealer for almost three years. Our team was investigating a former IRA captain, Ian Doyle. I infiltrated his operation by… by pretending to be in a relationship with him. Doyle had a son and, after we finished the op, I faked the son’s death so he’d be safe if Doyle ever got out of prison.”

This was so much information, information that, frankly, you couldn’t believe you didn’t already have about Emily. You thought you’d known everything, everything about her. Apparently not. You latched to the only piece of information that felt even mildly normal.

“IRA like the bank accounts?”

Emily sighed again, somewhere between amusement and deep, deep sadness. “No, baby. The Irish Republican Army. The terrorist organization.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your voice shaky.

Emily took another deep breath. “Last month, Doyle escaped from prison in North Korea. As far as my contacts and I can tell, he’s in DC. He’s tracking down the members of my team and killing them, likely for information about his son.”

Emily watched the wheels turning in your head as you realized what she was saying, watched you grow more and more scared. And she hated herself then. She hated herself for not having the fortitude to follow through on breaking up with you. It would be so much safer for you, so much easier, if you didn’t know, if she could just let you go. But she couldn’t. Not when you were holding on so tightly.

“But…” You tried to reason yourself out of the terror that had taken over your body. “But you were undercover, right? He doesn’t even know who you really are. He wouldn’t even know… that you’re here. Right?”

When she didn’t answer, you prompted her again, your voice high and desperate. “Right, Em?”

“I’m pretty sure he knows who I am,” she whispered, holding tight to your shaking hands. “I think he knows who I am, where I am… I think he knows… who I care about.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, panic shooting icy-hot through your body. Emily smiled wryly at you when you finally met her eyes.

“Do you wish you’d just left?” she asked.

“N-no,” you replied, a tear streaking down your cheek. “I’m just–I’m scared, that’s all. But I’m still… I’m still not going anywhere.”

Emily grasped your head and pulled you toward her, wrapping her arms around you and holding you close as you hyperventilated. She was overwhelmed by you–your love, your loyalty, your bravery in the face of what most people would run from. She hated to drag you into this, hated to be the reason you were in danger, the reason you were scared. But she was also so selfishly glad to have you with her.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly as your breathing slowed.

You nodded, pulling back to wipe your face and look her in the eyes.

“What are we gonna do, Em?”

Emily steeled herself for this part of the conversation. “This is the part where you listen, and you do what I say. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re gonna go to my grandfather’s cabin in the Alps.”

“To France?!” you blurted, alarmed. Emily squeezed your hand.

“You’re gonna go to the cabin and stay there until I come for you. It's far enough off the map that you should be safe there. You’ll travel under an alias. I have bank accounts and a passport set up for you under a new name. You'll use a new phone. You cannot under any circumstances log into any of your social media accounts on it. You cannot tell your family where you are. You can’t tell anyone where you are. There’s a stash of burner phones at the cabin, which you can use to call your family once a week to tell them you’re safe.”

“But…” you protested lightly, scared out of your mind at this point. “What’ll I tell them?”

“I don’t care. Lie. But do not tell anyone where you are. If you don’t hear from me in six months–”

“Six months!?” you exclaimed.

“Listen to me, baby, this is important,” Emily said forcefully, grabbing the sides of your face, then softening her touch. She took a shaky breath and looked at you for a long time, as if she were trying to memorize every line, every contour, every bit of your face. “If you don’t hear from me in six months, I am probably dead.”

“Em!” you squeaked out, somewhere between a terrified yelp and a sob.

“After the six months is up, you can go back to the States, but you should continue to use your other identity for at least a year.”

“What about you?” you asked, rocking a little, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m gonna try to shake Doyle.”

You closed your eyes, your body’s tremors seemingly out of your control for now. You didn’t even know where to start. The fact that Emily was some sort of undercover spy? That she’d been in a fake relationship with a terrorist? Faked the death of his kid? That you were fleeing the country and, even worse, fleeing without Emily? Somehow the worst part was that you hadn’t known any of this. You felt like, somehow, you knew both more about her than anyone and nothing about her at all.

“Are you alright?” Emily asked gently, her eyes full of apology.

You started to shake your head, then nodded instead. Emily had enough on her plate. Your sanity didn’t need to be one more thing to worry her.

“When do I have to leave?”

“I can get you a ticket for tomorrow.”

You blinked, trying not to cry. Of the two of you, Emily had definitely gotten the shorter end of this stick. But, god, you were so scared you felt sick to your stomach. But you wouldn't fall apart in front of Emily. You wanted her to know that you were strong and capable, that you could do what she’d told you to, that you’d be waiting there safe and sound when she came to get you. When she came to get you, you told yourself. Not if.

“I’d better pack,” you muttered, wiping your nose as you stood abruptly and made your way to the bedroom.

Emily wanted to follow you. She wanted to hold you and never let you go. But she thought you might need some time alone to process. If you had come back into the kitchen, you would have seen her bent over the kitchen table, her head in her hands, crying quietly.

Neither of you could sleep that night, watching the minutes creep by, feeling your time together dwindling down. After a while, you gave up on sleeping and just held each other, quiet and close in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” Emily sobbed out in the early hours of the morning.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you told her, wrapping your body impossibly closer around hers.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Em,” you whispered, kissing away the tears from under her eyes. “I love you.”

But this only seemed to make her cry more.

“I love you,” you said again, holding her so close you could feel her tears against your chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your goodbye was short, chaste, both of you trying very hard not to make the other cry. Emily on her way to work, you taking an Uber to the airport.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, kissing her one last time before you left. When you pulled away, her eyes looked sad, distant, full of doubt. You squeezed her hand. “I will see you soon.”

But you couldn’t shake the feeling, as you drove off, that it might be the last time you ever saw her, the last time you ever held her or kissed her or laughed with her. You shook your head, brushing away tears. There’d be plenty of time to cry in France. For now, it was time to become someone else.

[storiesabouteli]

Heartplace. // Elijah Hewson X Reader (Fluff).

prompt: about how you handle a light argument, where Eli said things he's truly sorry for and wants to apologize.

words: 2.1K

It affected you in a way that left your mind distant throughout the day, but deep down, you understood. He was tired, and though he was in the wrong, his sleepless nights without you and his swollen eyes as he watched you leave each morning made it clear—he knew he had hurt you.

Knowing Eli, he would be brooding over it, silently reprimanding himself while figuring out how to reconnect with you and make things right.

"Come closer," you whispered, foam already covering his tiny beard. Under normal circumstances, he would have kissed you, making a mess. You appreciated how, despite complications, you never neglected each other. You loved him too much to go long without touching him, and he felt the same.

…

Despite the thoughtless and cruel words from the night before, he still came to pick you up from work, waiting outside with a cigarette as usual, and kept your favorite songs playing even after you got into the car without giving him your usual long, lingering hug. He stayed silent, his hand brushing over his eyes during the drive, and you’d have been foolish not to notice him struggling to keep them from misting over.

You didn’t fight often, but you had been together a long time, so this wasn’t the first. As you gazed out the window, you placed your hand on his, intertwining your fingers, listening to him sniff softly—so discreet and embarrassed that, if not for the years, you might have missed it. His rings against your skin were comforting, so familiar.

He squeezed your thigh affectionately; his fingers were cold, but yours quickly warmed them. As you gently stroked the short hair on his arm, he felt foolish—both for what he’d done and for still not knowing what to say or how to say it. You weren’t angry with him, not at all, but you didn’t like the way it felt.

…

He took a deep breath, settling between your legs, which quickly wrapped around his waist. His long fingers grazed the hem of your shirt (which, by the way it hung to your thighs, was clearly his), gradually stealing the warmth from your hips into his palms. You smiled softly as his eyes met yours; at times, he felt like he didn't deserve you. You could feel his breath close as you wet the blade and steadied his face with your hand. It felt good to have him near, even with the tension still lingering in the air between you.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” you asked, continuing to remove the excess before resuming the grooming process you loved so much. Eli was never very patient with his beard; whenever he had to do it himself, it usually ended with intense itching and irritated, red skin. You never failed to take good care of him, and he appreciated it deeply. It didn’t usually grow too thick, but it bothered him, and you were so good at handling it.

“Like what, darlin’?” His voice was velvety yet cautious. His eyes sparkled at you with a faint smile, freckles prominent, as if pleading for kisses. Realizing it had been a while since you’d heard him, your body tingled. You tightened around him, wanting him close as if he could heal the pounding in your head. You wanted to say everything was fine, but you also wanted to be honest about your hurt. Above all, you were waiting for him to take the first step. Things are always much easier said than done.

Your face was furrowed in concentration, or perhaps annoyance; at that moment, he couldn’t quite tell. It seemed as if you were about to carve a look of distress into his features, yet he couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful you looked.

"I don't know," you whispered. Despite looking tired, he still wore a sweet expression as he looked at you. The wrinkle between his relaxed eyebrows and the way his caramel eyes shone, even on not-so-great days, were things you loved about him.

He nodded, tracing circles on your skin, waiting for you to continue. When you finished, you dried his face with the still-warm towel and applied the soothing lotion. The bonus you loved most was that you’d fall asleep with his comforting scent lingering on you. You ran your hands over his bare shoulders, appreciating every freckle, and then, with quiet sincerity, he pulled you into a hug.

Your forehead rested against his chest, your hand entwined around his waist, and gradually, his breathing comforted you. You murmured softly, feeling warmth in your chest, the hairs on his chest tickling your cheek, which made him laugh as well. He nuzzled his red nose against your cheek, then down to your shoulder, and after lightly kissing it, he playfully nibbled, wanting to hear you smile. It was a pleasant and new sensation to feel him against your skin without the facial hair.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me, tiny one,” he said, still feeling weighed down. His face nestled into your neck, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “I really like these little moments with you.” He felt like an idiot for stating the obvious, as if it would somehow make things better. His fear wasn’t about apologizing but rather about recognizing how much he had hurt you with his actions.

You nodded against his skin, feeling small in his embrace. "You know when we go to the market?" Your voice trembled, and he felt the dampness spreading quietly across his chest as you rubbed your hand against him. A lump formed in his throat as he held you tighter. "This is going to sound silly," you said, laughing without much humor.

He watched you through wet eyelashes, cradling your face as your foreheads rested together, allowing you to gaze into each other’s eyes. Your hair stuck to his, and he tried to pull it away in vain; perhaps it was meant to be tangled together. "I wanna hear you out," he said, his voice catching as he spoke.

You swallowed hard and closed your eyes. "I love how you smile at me when you 'find' me in the market, y’know? Your eyes, even your freckles seem to sparkle. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but it always happens, even though you know I’ll come back to you after I find something from the list. Sometimes, I think I do it on purpose—disappear among the shelves and then reappear with something in hand to show you. It never fails. You squint your eyes and then break into a smile, your cheeks rosy and your teeth showing, and it makes me want to hug you." You sniffled, feeling vulnerable.

He was just as emotional, yet he held you close, making you feel heard. "I’m afraid this will end," your voice trailed off, and then you shook your head vigorously. "I hate thinking that you might get tired of being with me. Even though I know you acted in the heat of the moment, I can't shake the feeling that it’s a possibility." Those were the truths that weighed heavily on you, and you felt apprehensive about sharing it.

There was silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He cradled your face in his hands, the tip of his nose nuzzling against your skin as he pressed soft kisses onto your cheek. He offered you the same affectionate look he always had. "It won’t end, I promise. I’m sorry.” He held you tighter, hating himself for leaving you alone to deal with those feelings. Sometimes, he wished you would be angry at him and scream in his face, but fortunately, you both knew better than that. “I didn’t mean to hurt you; I was tired and ended up unloading my feelings on you when you were just trying to help. I didn’t realize you felt this way.”

He chuckled at his own words, his cheeks and the tip of his nose flushed. He hadn’t realized it before, but reflecting on those memories, he loved having you close. In public—whether at the market or any other event—the voices in his head and the external noises became more persistent, almost paralyzing. But having you by his side made him feel lighter, grounding his thoughts. Loving you made him more patient, filling him with that warm feeling in his chest and the assurance that everything would be alright because the person he cherished most in the world was with him.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” The tips of your fingers brushed against his nose, trailing your thumb to his eyes as you smiled weakly at the sight of his tears. “I’m upset, but I’m not angry with you. I know I can be stubborn, and I’ve been forgiven for my questionable actions in the past.”

The difference was that he knew you would know what to say, expertly resolving everything without leaving room for insecurities to take root in his mind. He didn’t have much to say; he had failed you in less than two minutes, and he still replayed the sad look in your eyes and the way you had lowered your head the previous night as punishment.

You opened your arms, noticing how he had withdrawn into himself, lost in his own thoughts. “Take me to bed, Eli.” He forced a smile as he held you close, his hands firm on your waist while you intertwined your legs around him.

“I won’t do it again; I won’t make you feel this way again. I love you. I promise.” His voice was breathless but not desperate, polite and well-articulated. It was as if he felt the need to prove something to you, believing that words alone wouldn’t suffice. Despite knowing he would apologize many more times out of concern, you were fine. He had always been good at listening.

Your back sank into the mattress as your fingers wove through his hair, his face nestled against you. “I don’t like sleeping without you,” he whispered, lifting his head. His hand caressed your cheek and chin, captivated by how he closed his eyes at your touch and sighed. You kissed him lightly, and as you sank back into the bed, he stole another kiss from you. Soon, the tips of your fingers traced the path of his freckles, and he understood that he would miss you if fate decided that you didn’t want him anymore.

“Yeah?” Your eyebrows arched, eager to hear more as you snuggled closer to the pillow, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“Yeah,” he laughed, his face lighting up. “I love how you share your day with me and listen until we drift off to sleep.” He paused, fingers tracing your skin as he sighed contentedly, grateful for your closeness and the kisses you shared. “Mornings are great too, when you play with my hair until I wake up to see you smiling beside me, or when I catch you washing your face with the bathroom light on.” Holding your chin, he reflected on how often those moments happened, all equally cherished. He missed you when filming kept him away, and he found himself longing for your daily updates and photos. “I need you, I’m sorry,” he began, but you covered his mouth, smiling.

“If you apologize again, I won’t forgive you; you’ll be on your own. I know you won’t do it again.” Your tone was light, easing his tension. You pulled him closer, enjoying the warmth of his embrace as his hands found their way to your waist. He nuzzled his beard-less face against your forehead and planted a kiss there. “Elijah?” you sang softly.

He grumbled, pulling you even closer.

“Your mother called earlier, inviting us to lunch. I said we’d go.” Your breath against his chest was light, and he chuckled at the thought that you might hold a grudge. It was funny to think that you didn't hesitate at all to decline the request.

[annegrey]

hola como estas? Espero que tu estés muy bien 💕 te quisiera pedir un one shot de acontinuacion de "dos por el precio de uno" one shot de kelly piquet x max verstappen x reader (poly) , que pasaría si la lectora queda embarazada y ellos no pueden quitarle las manos de encima , muchísimas gracias 😊 ( esto esta en español, soy latina) ( lo siento si no lo entiendes , amo tu forma de escribir) 💕💕

Hi! First, thank you so much, it really means a lot to me that you guys ask and comment and overall engage with my stuff! ❤️ I hope I (or rather the translator 😂) understood correctly, and it is just what you hoped for! And now, everyone, the next story in my "Two for the price of one" universe!

Pregnancy cravings

- A "Two for the price of one" story

Max x fem!pregnant!Reader x Kelly

At first, you had been terrified. Kelly already had a child, and neither of your lovers ever said something about having another baby. But somehow, it happened. You became pregnant.

Being who you are, you returned to your standard-method: ignoring, denying and avoiding. Bottling things up. The problem was, this time you had someone who cared about you, who knew that you were behaving weird, and one evening Max and Kelly sat you down to talk.

You were about to deny everything, to make up some reasons, tired from work, feeling misplaced in their world of glamour, having fallen in love with somebody else, anything. But, looking in their faces, you couldn’t lie. You broke down in tears, burying your face in your hands and sobbed. Immediately they sat next to you, hugging you at the same time, whispering words of comfort and love, and you couldn’t help yourself. You spilled everything. On how you missed your period, how you took a pregnancy test, how you went to your doctor to be sure. Just to always get the same answer: you were pregnant.

For a moment everything was quiet, and you feared the worst. That they decided to kick you out, to force you to make an abortion, that they hated you. But instead, you were hugged again, two faces rubbing into your shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”, Max whispered, his voice breaking, while Kelly’s arms around you tightened. Your small “I was afraid” ripped a sound out of Max, as if he was punched. And then a litany of apologies began, them fearing they didn’t make you feel loved and save enough to tell them, while you tried to make clear it was because you were sure the problem was yourself.

That night, you ended up cuddling under the sheets, three different hands on your belly, and always somebody else giggling, because… holy shit, you were pregnant.

This had been some time ago, as well as the slightly awkward talk with Penelope, because how do you explain a child that the baby, while being deeply loved by her mother and (kind of) stepfather, wasn’t her sibling? But in the end, she said she was going to be a big sister, and that was that.

Now was a completely different situation.

Kelly and Max made sure you always felt loved and comfortable, going so far as to literally beg you to go early maternity leave, as they obviously would have no problem with supporting you, and after three months of whining, begging, arguments and sweet talking, you gave in. You were five months pregnant when you started to stay at home, and the sometimes smug, sometimes proud smiles on their faces, as well as the fact that you didn’t want to fall asleep every five minutes told you you made the right decision.

And with their love came their passion. Both of them gave their everything, no matter the situation.

You were eight months along right now, sprawled out on your back on the soft mattress and some supporting pillows, while Max massaged your sore tits and Kelly your baby bump. Your sex drive had been HIGH, in capital letters, and Kelly just grinned at times, while Max had already thrown his shirt somewhere in the corner and gone down on you.

She was truly heaven-sent during everything, whether it was pain or pleasure, because she could truly relate. Your experiences might not be the same, but still, having gone through a pregnancy herself made her more empathetic towards you.

And Max… was down to sex whenever you dropped even the slightest hint. To say you were well taken care of was an understatement.

Because of that, by now it was completely normal for you to grab Max’ head and push him down towards your tits, moaning as you felt the deft tongue and soft suckling, while lifting your hips towards Kelly.

Before, she had always been the dominating one in your relationship, making you and Max beg and suffer, but your pregnancy seemed to make it impossible to both of them to keep their hands of you, and thus fulfilled your every desire.

Just like now, a hand slipped between your legs and started to circle your clit, drawing a moan out of your throat. You felt Max smirk against your nipple, and pressed him down again for a second, making clear what you thought about him being distracted.

This was also nothing new, that both of them were just taking care of you without any plan of getting off themselves. But with how often you demanded an orgasm it was probably impossible for them to keep up with you. Not like any of you three complained.

You let out a sigh of content and pleasure as the soft treatment went on, not pushing you towards the brink, but slowly carrying you there. Just how you loved it during times like these. Max’ mouth on your tit, his hand massaging the other one, and Kelly kissing your baby bump and rubbing your clit in the way you loved was the epitome of a perfect night for you.

A small whine left your lips when Max bit your nipple, and you pulled his hair as a reprimand, before mumbling “Faster, I wanna cum…” And just like any time you slept with each other during your pregnancy, your wish was their command.

Max started to truly massage your nipples in the way you loved, and Kelly sped up, before completely switching course and putting her mouth on your core. A loud moan was torn from you, and you placed both your hands in her hair to pull her closer, something you wouldn’t dare under normal circumstances.

But now she just complied to your silent command, and did her best, which was truly a dream, to make you cum. Maybe it was because she simply knew how she liked it, but it always boggled your mind how amazing she was at giving head.

It literally didn’t take you more than five minutes, maybe the pregnancy hormones were to blame, to finally reach your end, and you laid there gasping and sweaty – when did that happen? – while both of them looked like two cats that got the cream. Smug bastards. But you loved them. So you simply grinned back at them, probably looking high as fuck. (Ha!)

“Better now?”, Kelly asked, and you stretched with a satisfied smile and nodded. “Okay, then how about I help you to the shower and Max changes the sheets?” Immediately a disgruntled “Hey!” was heard but shot down with a “I changed them last time”, and you just giggled. “Yeah, sounds good.”

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 7]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I know I always say this, but I am very excited for this part! lol I hope y'all like it! Also, if I forgot to tag you in the taglist, or if you'd like to be added, please let me know! I try to add people as they ask, but I'm afraid I'll miss someone. So just let me know! Thanks!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @parkinglot-nights @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

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Series Masterlist

“How are you feeling about today?” Namjoon asked his client. 

Jimin was standing with you in the lobby of the courthouse, dressed in his best Ralph Lauren suit, keeping your hand in his. You sported a long-sleeve baby blue pencil dress from Versace that belted around the waist, with a pair of beige Louboutin heels. You chose your outfit knowing that the press would be there that day, and you wanted to appear put together and presentable for your fiancé’s case. Standing by him, with your engagement ring proudly shining on your finger, you could see the cameras outside through the lobby windows, snapping photos that will undoubtedly be front page news tomorrow. You understood fully that the direction the day goes would determine so much; the Park family name, the perception of Jimin as incoming CEO of the company, and most importantly, your future together. 

“I’m ok.” Jimin replied, gripping your hand, before turning to look at your face. “How are you feeling, my love?” 

“I’m ok, too.” You offered a sweet smile. Composed. 

“We’ll get through this.” Namjoon said. “I can’t imagine Judge Harmon being more difficult than he has to be.” 

“How is he? As a judge?” Jimin asks. 

“No bullshit, but fair.” Namjoon replied. “He’s worked in the city a long time, and he’s seen it all. But as long as he can see that you’re trying, he’s fair.” 

Namjoon glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

“We need to go in there, it’s our time.” Namjoon said. “Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for having your statement ready for me this morning.” 

“Of course.” You responded, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Anything to make this easier.” 

Jimin smiled sadly at your words. He wished it were easier; he wished the situation weren’t so difficult on you. He felt like a liar to your families, and to himself. He knew he’s already failed so many times in taking care of you, loving you, and giving you the life he knows you deserve. Yet here you were, dignified as always, standing by him in front of the world’s attention. He didn’t deserve you, and for the first time, he truly understood that deeply. But he was thankful that you were there nonetheless, holding his hand. 

The four of you walked down the hallway together, and you gave Jimin a quick kiss for luck before slipping away with Jung Kook into the public, gallery seats in the court room, behind Namjoon and Jimin’s council table. The court was empty otherwise, except for the other legal team at their table, as the judge ordered prior to that no cameras were to be inside for this brief decision. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Joseph Harmon.” The bailiff announced, leading everyone in the room to stand while the judge entered, taking his seat at the bench. “You may be seated.” 

“Mr. Park,” Judge Harmon began, looking up from his glasses to the young heir. “It seems your council is asking for a deferral on your case today. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, your honor.” Jimin answered. 

“Your honor, my client is asking for a minimum ninety day deferral, in order to seek rehabilitation treatment.” Namjoon began. “We request to submit a treatment plan to the court, as well as a personal character statement written by the defendant’s fiancé.” 

“Very well.” Judge Harmon nodded, allowing the bailiff to take the paper work from Namjoon and bring it to him. The court was silent as he looked through the documents quickly. “And, why must the defendant miss his upcoming court dates for this? Could he not be escorted to and from the court during those dates, and return once the day is over?” 

“Your honor, it would be against the suggestion of his therapy team to remove Mr. Park from his in-person support for long hours at a time.” Namjoon reasoned. “His team, as well as Ms. Y/L/N, have requested in writing that Mr. Park focus solely on his health before his dates, as any distraction may disturb his treatment plan.” 

“Your honor,” The opposing lawyer spoke up, her tone annoyed. “Calling this case a ‘distraction’ is insulting to those who Mr. Park misled and defrauded out of their investments. I would argue that Mr. Park is attempting to delay this case in order to lower his chances of facing any consequences for his actions.” 

“If I may, your honor,” Namjoon responded, “I can assure the court that Mr. Park is not delaying consequences, as we feel that we have a strong case against these allegations. My client is simply doing the responsible thing; doing right by his family, his business, and his wife-to-be, by seeking immediate help for his addiction and behavior.” 

“And what behavior would that be, Mr. Kim?” The judge asked. Jimin shot Namjoon a wide-eyed panicked look, not wanting to reveal his private fight with you. 

You became nervous, as well. Jung Kook knowingly reached for your hand, and was surprised when you took it, locking your fingers with his for support. I’m right here, Y/N, he said to himself, as if you could hear his thoughts. 

“Emotional management courses, your honor.” Namjoon replied. “It’s standard practice for someone on this treatment path, as outlined by his recovery team.” 

“I see.” Judge Harmon said, looking at the blonde heir. Jimin was sitting upright, in perfect posture, trying to keep his composure under the weight of the judge’s look. “Mr. Park, I believe it may be best for you to seek treatment before we continue with the case. The court is granting you the request for a ninety-day deferral to focus on your health.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Namjoon smiled, looking over at a very relieved Jimin. The prosecution lawyer rolled her eyes and tsked in disbelief, but Namjoon paid it no mind. 

Jimin turned around to give you a smile, and Jung Kook mentally thanked his luck that your fiancé didn’t see his hand in yours from where he was sitting, because Jung Kook wasn’t at all ready to let you go; to let you leave his hold, and run back to him. But Jung Kook knew he had to, as much as it hurt him. He knew, despite his heart begging at him to keep you close, that you weren’t his to hold on to. 

————————————————————————————————————

Namjoon brought you and Jimin back to your hotel room to help Jimin pack for his treatment, while Jung Kook retreated back to his office for the rest of the day. When you arrived at the suite, bottles were still scattered among the tables, floors and counters, reminding you of all of the terrible nights, not just the most recent incident, where Jimin had crossed the line. All of the times he messed up, not keeping his promise that he whispered to you that night in front of your families.

“Mr. Kim,” Jimin called out to Namjoon from the bedroom, who was gathering Jimin’s clothes from the closet nearby. “Would you be alright with leaving Y/N and I for the afternoon? My driver will make sure I’m on time for my check-in, I just… I’d like to have some private time with her.” 

“Of course, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, bowing respectfully. “If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you.” Jimin said, waving to him on his way out, before turning to you. 

You were picking up empty bottles with a sadness in your eyes that Jimin never, in his life, wanted to see again. 

“Hi, my love.” Jimin said as gently as he could, approaching you. He could see that sadness so clearly the closer he came, and saw just how deep in truly ran. “Honey, come here. I wanna talk to you.” 

You nodded, and reached out for his hand. Jimin led you to the bedroom, and sat you on the bed before bending down on the floor by your legs to look up at you, making you giggle. 

“Jiminie, what are you doing?” You laughed, earning a smile from your fiancé. 

“Jiminie? Honey, you haven’t called me that in so long.” He replied. “I just wanted to look at you, my love, and I wanted to ask what my pretty girl is thinking about.” 

“I… I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You replied, your voice so quickly turning soft in exhaustion and sadness. 

“There won’t be any fighting today.” He said, rubbing his hands up your legs in comfort. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I’m just tired.” You responded truthfully. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Shhhh, I know.” Jimin said gently, looking at your face as you spoke. He could see it from the dark circles under your eyes, and the dullness of your skin. “I know I haven’t made things easy on you, and I’m sorry honey. You must be so worried all the time, right? Not sleeping or eating much?” 

You nodded to confirm. “Jung Kook made japchae, and that was the first full dish I’ve eaten in a while.” 

Jimin smiled unconvincingly, hating to know that another man took care of you in the way he should’ve. 

“I’m glad you ate well, my love.” He said diplomatically. “When I’m in treatment, I want you to you sleep and eat well every day, ok? And I want you to tell me if you need anything at all. ” 

“Baby, I’ll be ok.” You smiled, delicately keeping your composure. “It’s only for a short time, right? You need to focus on getting better, not on my needs. Besides, Jung Kook is there, just in case. I won’t be alone.” 

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, trying to keep his protectiveness and jealousy under control. “But listen, honey, I mean it. If you need or want anything, you can come to me, ok? I want you to come to me.” 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

Jimin gazed up at you for a moment longer, unsure if you really meant it, because knowing you, you’ll do things yourself or ask someone else before him, just to make sure he focuses on himself. You knew that giving you things was Jimin’s way of feeling adequate. A manicure, a new bag or dress, a nice meal at a nice place, a beautiful vacation, amazing sex. Jimin felt needed and secure as a man when he gave you these things. But what Jimin didn’t realize, was that you needed something that was somehow both more, and so simple. You only needed him to be ok, and to prove that he can be a stable partner for you.   

After a few moments of committing your features to memory, etching them into his mind, Jimin wrapped a hand around each of your ankles, and began kissing up your exposed legs, distracting you from your thoughts. Softly, slowly moving up your skin with his plush pink lips, making you giggle in surprise.

“Jimin!” You laughed sweetly. 

“Let me make you feel good, honey.” He said, his voice deepening as he moves up your legs, lifting your dress. “Gonna use my tongue just how you like it.” 

He continued to pull your dress up as he moved, keeping himself on his knees, nibbling and kissing your thighs until he reached your lace panties. He kissed you over the fabric, teasing you with just enough pressure and tongue to make you whimper in anticipation.

“Jimin, please…” You begged, running your fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Angel, this sweet little pussy’s so wet for me already.” He murmured, moving your lace to the side with one finger. “Such a needy girl, so easy to get your pretty pussy excited.” 

He gave you wet, soft kisses along your opening, nibbling delicately on the skin, making your throw your head back and pick up your breathing. Then, his tongue, pressing quick kitten licks at your clit, which had already peeked out to seek attention. 

“J-Jimin…” You whined, gripping his hair as he continued to alternate between speed and pressure, licking and sucking, burying himself between your thighs. He slid a finger, then two, moving them in and out, and curling them to caress your sensitive spot. “Baby… Baby… Please… Baby…” 

You had no idea what exactly you were begging him for, with your mind emptying alongside each movement. You knew it was a distraction; a moment of pleasure in a sea of pain that you’ve tasted many times before. But for now, you’d let his familiar touch melt your worries away once again. A few more moments of careful attention had your toes curling and your hands pulling his hair as you came with a cry. .

You let him move you up further onto the bed, so that he could undo his pants and drop them to his knees, to let his hard, sensitive length spring out. He slid fully into you with a possessive growl, and began to fuck you hard, making the hotel bed, and yourself, squeak just as you did the first night you stayed here. 

Each movement was a strong cocktail of loving passion, pleasureful distraction, and begging apology, mixed with a lingering sense of his sense of possession. Jimin locked his lips to your neck, and engraved you with shallow marks as he whispered in your ear, “My pretty girl… Fuck, my sweet angel… My girl, taking my cock so well… F-Fuck…. All mine… ” 

It was a clear reminder, whispered to you through your whines as you let pleasure consume you once more, feeling his thumb massage your clit; Parks got what they wanted, and Jimin intended on keeping it that way. His mistakes could always be fixed with the swipe of a card, some sweet words, or a good, loving touch between your thighs. But as his thrusts became more sloppy and shallow, so too did his promises, when he pulled out and spilled onto you, ignoring his vow to finish inside and be closer to you. 

It was a moment of realization, as you lay there looking at his beautiful face, that no matter how seemingly hard he would try, he would always be Jimin. Flaws and all. The way he showed love, the increasingly obvious emptiness of his commitments, the circles he takes your heart in. He will always be that version of himself, because it is the only version of himself.

As he kissed your neck and whispered “I love you”, you wondered, for the first time, if those words, and that love, would ever truly be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————  

You went with Jimin to the rehabilitation center, and after a teary goodbye, you had the driver take you to Jung Kook’s apartment. He was waiting for you in the living room, only able to imagine the emotional day you had. He had rehearsed over and over again what to say, to give you the comfort and love he knew that you needed. But when you walked in with tears, his mind blanked, and the only thing he could think to ask was, “What do you need?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You said softly, unsure of so many things. 

Jung Kook looked at you with sad brown eyes, walked towards you, and replied, “I think what you need, is a hug. C’mere.” 

As he wrapped his arms around you, he realized he couldn’t have offered anything better. You clung to him like a float in a crashing ocean, desperate for a moment of calm. He wanted to provide that for you, so he held you close, hoping it could somehow meld the leftover pieces back together. Or, at the very least, remind you that you never had to pick them back up alone. 

He hoped you understood that later that night, when he heard you speaking to your father on a video call in the guest room. Jung Kook wanted to give you privacy, but when he heard the angry tone of your father, he couldn’t help but overhear through the thin wall between the bedrooms. 

“So Jimin is in treatment right now?” 

“Yes, Appa.” You responded, nervously picking at your nails. “I think he’ll be better afterwards. He just needs some time.” 

“Y/N,” Your father sighed. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this again. How many more times are you going to have to go through this with him?” 

“He’s really trying.” You said sadly. “He’s not a bad person.” 

“I know he’s not a bad person, sweetie.” You father said, trying to reason with you. “But I think he may be ‘bad’ for you. I don’t know, I’m just worried about you. Are you by yourself now, in a new city?” 

“No, Appa. I’m staying with Jung Kook.” You said. “He works with Mr. Kim, and I used to go to university with him. He’s been very sweet to me, you would like him if you met him.” 

Jung Kook couldn’t help but smile at your words, but still held on to what your father said. Jimin’s not a bad person, but he’s bad for you. Your own father having doubts about your engagement was not something he expected to hear, but he shouldn’t say he was all that surprised. You deserved more. 

When he heard you say your goodbyes, his thoughts were interrupted, and he began to scroll through his phone as he laid on his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your conversation. 

“Hi.” You said after a few moments, with a knock on his bedroom door. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired. It’s been a hard day.” Jung Kook responded, watching you turn around. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around towards him once more. 

“I’m off tomorrow.” He smiled. “Let me show you some cool places in the city.” 

“Jung Kook, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to.” He replied. “Please? I think I… um, it can make you feel better.” 

You smiled at his sentiment, ignoring the charming slip of his words. 

“Ok.” You agreed, giving in to the brown, puppy eyes of the man who looked so soft in his bed. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled. "I think so, too."

“Goodnight.” You waved, turning away from him. 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened, watching your hand wave him good night. Something was different, missing, that was clearly there before your conversation with your father. It made his heart drop to his stomach, and his mind buzz for the rest of the night.

Your engagement ring was gone. 

[babyhatesreality]

Agent Jellybean

Daddy!Stucky x Little!F!Reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, reader has anxiety, fluff.

A/N- today's story brought to you by a massive wave of anxiety.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

You had had the worst nightmare you could remember last night. Fortunately, you were in Daddy and Papa's bed with them already, so the second you whimpered in your sleep, Bucky had instantly awoken. He held you close, trying to help you gently wake up, but it had been so intense and terrifying that by the time you realized you were awake, you were already shaking and crying so hard you couldn't stop. Bucky and Steve spent the rest of the night soothing and calming you, but you hadn't fallen back to sleep, nor had you truly been able to shake the dread you had been feeling as a result of the dream.

Bucky had kept you in his arms all morning, knowing all too well the toll that a nightmare could take on a person. He cuddled and kissed and comforted you while Steve packed a day bag for you to come with them upstairs while they worked.

You were resting your tired head on Daddy's shoulder as the three of you got off the elevator. Fury was waiting for you, which normally would make you perk up as you loved the gruff director. But you were still too anxious and exhausted to do more than give him a little wave. He looked a bit surprised- normally you were bouncing off the walls- but quickly understood the situation when he saw the ache in his agents' eyes as they continued to touch and soothe you.

"Rough night?" Fury asked evenly, but one couldn't mistake the hint of sympathy in his words. Steve gave him a tired smile and reached out to stroke your hair as Bucky kissed your forehead.

"You could say that," Steve said quietly.

"Do you two need the day?" Fury asked immediately. But before they could answer, you did.

"No," you mumbled, popping your head up. "Daddies gotta be heroes." Your sudden burst of energy over, you slumped back down onto Bucky's shoulder. Fury's eyes met Steve's in surprise, and was met with another tired smile.

"We told her we would stay at home, but she didn't want that," he explained. And it was true- when Steve said that to you at the breakfast table, you almost had another meltdown. He was quick to retract it, and Bucky just tightened his grip on you, both of them assuring you that they wouldn't do that. You settled down after a moment, but then your feelings got even bigger.

The real reason you didn't want them missing work was that you were already feeling guilty that you had kept them up last night, that they were both so worried about you, and that you couldn't let go of the scary feelings. When Papa suggested missing work, all you could think about was the people that were going to get hurt because they weren't there, and that was what sent you over the edge again. After you settled down, you then felt guilty for being naughty and throwing a tantrum when they were only trying to help. You were a bundle of big mean feelings, anxiety, and exhaustion, so all you could do was hold on to Bucky as tight as he was holding on to you.

Of course you didn't tell Nick this- your Daddies didn't even know you were feeling guilty- but you watched for his reaction to Papa's answer. He slowly nodded once, like he was thinking. His face was lined with frustration.

"What is it?" Bucky asked.

Fury took a deep breath, sighing heavily before he answered. "We picked up another former Hydra agent last night," he answered gruffly. "Some...intense programming on this one. Barnes, I was going to ask if you can be in the interrogation room, but...it looks like your services are otherwise needed," Fury said carefully, realizing the sticky situation you were all in.

Bucky and Steve locked eyes over your head. They both knew that the best shot of saving and rehabilitating the agent was to get the Winter Soldier in there. Bucky's eyes pleaded with Steve for a solution. He couldn't let you go- he absolutely would not do it. But the idea of helping to save another person from his own personal nightmare....

In another surprise move, you picked your head back up again and reached out to Steve. "I go with Papa," you said quietly, holding your arms out. Steve instantly pulled you into his strong arms, patting your back gently as you rested your chin on his shoulders. Bucky stepped to Steve's side, smoothing your hair from your face.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" Bucky asked you gently, his blue eyes filled with worry. "I can stay with you- it's okay."

You shook your head a bit and snuggled back into Steve. "You a hero Daddy, you gotta go be a hero."

Steve leaned over and gave Bucky a gentle kiss. "It's okay Buck, I got her," he said lovingly. "Go be a hero." Bucky smiled at bit- hearing you and Steve call him a hero helped to heal something that was still a bit broken inside. He gave you a long kiss on the temple.

"I'll be real close by baby, okay? Papa's got you, you're safe. And I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise." Before he could second guess himself, he turned down the hallway towards the interrogation room. Fury watched him walk for a moment, then turned back to Steve.

"If you're up for it, I could use you and Natasha in a strategy meeting with Stark in the conference room in ten," he asked hesitantly, feeling awkward about which way to step with you. Steve patted you on the back and smiled.

"See you there."

You tried to let the bad feelings go while Papa carried you down the hall towards his office. At least you felt slightly less guilty that you'd been clinging so desperately to Bucky all morning, and now were in Steve's arms, showing him how much you needed him too. The thought made you nuzzle gratefully into his neck. He responded with a gentle chuckle and a long kiss on top of your head.

Papa carefully placed your bag in his office, thinking that if you got overstimulated or upset, he could quickly bring you back here to calm you down. He then proceeded to the conference room, hoping that maybe he could get you to fall asleep before the meeting started and catch up on your rest.

But even cuddled in his lap, as he rocked you gently back and forth, you still couldn't get rid of the big feelings. The world was just too large right now, and you were too tired to sleep or cry or do anything other than just try to make yourself smaller and smaller.

After a few minutes, Natasha, Tony, and Fury entered the room. Fury had clearly given them both a heads up, and they came over to both give you a gentle kiss or stroke your cheek before settling into their chairs. The chatter wasn't words that you could follow, so it was soothing to hear voices that you knew and loved. You began to relax just the tiniest bit.

After a while, you started to feel a bit squirmy, like something was wrong. You realized what it was, and so you gently patted Steve's chest to get his attention. He immediately looked down at you with a smile, and that made you feel better. You held up your hand to the side of your mouth and whispered (so you wouldn't interrupt the meeting), "Papa, can I go get Jellybean please?"

"We can go get her together and come right back if you want to, Peanut," he whispered back, not wanting you to put yourself in a stressful position. But you shook your head.

"M'okay," you whispered. "Need Jellybean, please?" Papa smiled wider and gave you peck on the cheek.

"Okay, Peanut, go get her and come right back, okay? You remember how to get to the office?" When you nodded, he sat up a bit and let you climb off his lap. You tried to be as small as possible as you walked to the door, opening it as carefully and quietly as you could. You missed Fury raising an eyebrow at your exit, then turning to Steve for an explanation, as did Nat and Tony. Steve smiled widely at the concern on their faces, touched that they were worried about you too. "She's fine, she's just getting Jellybean." Natasha and Tony nodded in understanding, but Fury looked confused. Steve clarified. "Jellybean is her stuffed bunny."

"I was wondering what happened to her," Natasha said. "She's never without that bunny when she's upset."

"She likes bunnies, huh?" Fury asked, looking at his agents.

"She loves them. She and 'Bean have been inseparable since the first day we got her," Steve answered, smiling softly at the memory of your delighted shriek of joy upon meeting the fuzzy gray bunny. Just then, you pushed open the door just a bit, peering anxiously around the edge, afraid you had disturbed them once again. Fury leaned into your line of sight.

"It's alright, Little One, come on in," he prompted you kindly.

"Thank you Mr. Nick," you said shyly as you squeezed past the door, Jellybean cuddled in the crook of your arm.

"Ah, and I see you've brought Agent Jellybean," Fury continued. You stopped suddenly in your tracks, looking up at Fury in wonder. "Excellent. Let me know if she had any insights to this mess, hmm?" he said to you, gesturing to the screen behind him. "She's one of our best stealth agents, you know."

"She is?" you asked in hushed wonder, perking up the slightest bit. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm the director of SHIELD. I know everything."

You turned to Jellybean. "He knows EVERYTHING," you whispered to the bunny. Fury kept a straight face while both Natasha and Tony bit their lips to contain their laughter. Steve had the sweetest look of both mirth and mischief on his face, touched that one of the toughest, most bad-ass men he knew cared so much about you that he was willing to grant the title of "agent" to a stuffed rabbit, even in play.

"You're damn right, I do. Now let's get on with this meeting," Fury said pompously, turning back to the map as if nothing had happened. Steve's heart melted as he saw the first smile of the day on your face. You still walked as quietly as you could, desperately needing to be back in Steve's arms, but as you cuddled back into your place on Papa's lap, he could feel some of the tension release from your body. He subtly rocked you back and forth until you finally fell asleep, finally calm in his arms with your beloved secret agent bunny.

[girlkisser13]

us

"i felt it, you held it" "do you miss us, us" "wonder if you regret the secret" "of us, us"

pairings: eloise bridgerton x royal fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. jealous and insecure eloise. childhood best friends to strangers to lovers.

summary: when your mother announces that you are to be wed to the most eligible suitor in london, you are faced with the decision of whether to fulfill your duty to your country or to follow the inclinations of your heart.

the grand hall of buckingham palace was alive with the murmur of conversation and the soft strains of the orchestra, but eloise felt none of the joy that permeated the air. her heart was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled love. tonight, the queen had announced that her beloved daughter was to be wed to the most eligible suitor in london. a proclamation that had caused eloise's heart to ache with a deep and abiding sorrow.

the two of you had been inseparable since childhood, bound by a love that neither of you fully understood nor questioned. but the years had wrought a cruel separation upon you both, and eloise was determined to understand why.

she had heard rumors that you were sent away in preparation for your future role in the royal court. during those long years, eloise had poured her heart into countless letters, each one a testament to her unwavering affection. but to her dismay, she had never received a single response. your time away had polished your manners and refined your poise.

as eloise stood by the refreshment table, her gaze was drawn to the dais where you sat beside your mother, the royal family was the epitome of dignity, yet your eyes seemed to search the room with a longing that mirrored her own.

as the queen's pronouncement echoed in her mind, eloise felt a surge of determination. she could not let this night pass without seeking the truth from you. she knew that your marriage was a matter of state, a union that would strengthen alliances and secure the future of the kingdom. but how could she bear to see the love of her life bound to another?

unable to endure the torment any longer, eloise made her way through the crowd, her heart pounding with determination. she reached the dais and curtsied before the queen, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.

"your majesty," eloise began, "may i have a word with princess y/n?"

the queen, surprised by the request, nodded her assent. you rose gracefully and followed eloise to a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

"why did you never write to me, eloise?" your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt as soon as the two of you were alone.

her heart ached at the pain in your eyes. "i did write, my love. countless letters, each one filled with the longing and devotion i feel for you. but i never received a response. i feared you had forgotten me."

your eyes widened in shock. "i never received any letters, eloise. not a single one. my brother must have intercepted them."

eloise felt a mixture of relief and anger. “your brother? why would he do such a thing?”

“he always believed that you were a distraction from my duties,” you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. “he thought he was doing what was best for me.”

eloise took your hands in hers, her voice softening. "y/n, i have loved you since we were children. i have never stopped loving you. do you remember the summer we spent in the rose garden, reading to each other? it was then that i knew i loved you, truly and deeply."

tears welled up in your eyes. "i remember it well. and i feel the same. i always have. i never stopped thinking about you, even when i was away. you were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. i never forgot. i do not believe i ever will."

the realization of your lost years struck the both of you deeply. you had been kept apart by forces beyond your control and yet, your love had endured. now, faced with the prospect of a marriage of duty, your heart cried out for the freedom to choose your own path.

eloise hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "but when you did not respond, i thought perhaps you were ashamed of what we shared, that you had moved on."

your eyes filled with fierce determination. "ashamed? never. you have always been my heart's desire, eloise."

you leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you, capturing eloise's lips in a kiss that spoke of all the love, longing, and promises of their past. the kiss was a reassurance, a silent vow that your love had endured and would continue to endure, no matter the obstacles.

as you parted, your voice was resolute. "i will find a way for us to be together, eloise. i will speak to my mother. our love is worth fighting for."

eloise nodded, her heart swelling with hope. "together, we can face anything."

hand in hand, the two of you returned to the ballroom, your resolve unshaken. in each other, you both found the courage to follow the inclinations of your hearts, no matter the cost.

[erzva]

⟡ general Jason todd headcanons and how i view and portray him in my works cw. soft gentle clingy needy desperate touch starved jay

‎

…

i need to start off with certain stereotypes/ways in which he gets potrayed sometimes that i hate with every fibre of my fucking being :

he’s not some aggressive horny flirty fuckboy asshole jock. he’s grown and too old for that hs bs. like literally he would think of that behavior as annoying, revolting and stupid

and he’s most definitely (and i can’t stress this enough) not a yandere kidnapper or a stalker or any of that weird bullshit (if you wanna write stuff like that do it but it’s ooc)

he’s literally so caring and sensitive and he would be so gentle and soft. he’d be awkward and wouldn’t exactly know how to go about his feelings for someone.

he knows what its like when no one cares and when you grow up in an unstable home or on the streets so he has compassion for outcasts, children, women, non-cishetmen and animals

he’s canonically a nerd. he’s literary and he used to like going to school and learning. ppl always get him and tim mixed up bc tim hated going to school whereas jason wished he wouldn’t have had to drop out

also obviously very much an intersectional feminist ! he’s read all the books abt it and is actively working against his indoctrinated misogyny yup!

he loves all women and has a little soft spot for woc, fat/chubby/muscular women, women with big noses, you name it. just women who don’t fit the stereotypical beauty standard in general

he’s scared and ashamed of how needy and clingy he actually is. he knows himself (unfortunately) and it’s not something that he can just get rid of. it’s pent up from early childhood bc he never got enough love and then from after his death bc of all the shit he had to go through.

this side of him will haunt him until he dies- again. he can’t change it but he sure as hell won’t embrace it either. it’s a secret he wishes he could take with him to his final grave. actually- deep down he wishes he would find someone who understands and accepts him the way he is and someone who he can trust to be himself with.

!! aroace-spec , bi (women+)

he is secretly so incredibly desperate.. desperate for love, intimacy, being understood and accepted, desperate to be touched and hugged- loved.

he’s just so touch starved, he doesn’t even know what it feels like not to be. what it feels like to be loved or happy, to be content. how to not constantly feel like something is missing.

he needs someone to take care of him bc he just does a very poor job at that.. also it feels nice being able to just shut off and not having to think about anything

he wants to be hugged and caressed

gentle touches

he loves forehead kisses and headpats or just your hand on his head and in his hair

he wants to kiss you passionately and deeply

prefers making out and hugging/cuddling over sex

all he wants is to lay in bed or sit on the couch hugging someone who truly loves and accepts him and never let go

switch with a sub/bottom lean

i think it goes hand in hand with him having a sub lean but he’s attracted to strong dominant people. preferably someone who’s a switch too

everybody knows this already but he LIVES for praise

praise him and he’s in heaven. you’ll literally get him to do anything if you praise him. want him to give you head? just be a little clingy and loving, telling him how much you love him and how good he always makes you feel and he’s already dropping to his knees taking off your pants.

definitely a service / pleasure dom

if you’re fem/afab :

eating you out is his favorite thing. he goes in like it’s all or nothing (to him it is). no penetration if you didn’t cum at least once from his tongue.

he loves it when you ride his face and use him to make yourself feel good. there’s not a single thing he likes more than seeing you on top of him.

he loves watching you go from humming and gently playing with his hair to breathing heavily and tugging on his hair- to whining, moaning and grunting while grinding your pussy into his face deeper and faster to finally reach your high

also loves it when you ride his dick. being able to relax a little and just look up at you feeling good because of him makes him moan so much

he’ll also pull you down a lot when you’re riding him just to hug you and hold you close and to hear you breathing and moaning into his ear

he’ll thrust up from under you as fast as he can just to catch you off guard and see your face in pure bliss. he loves it when he makes you cum in this position.

he also loves missionary and the mating press

you know he’s close when he starts holding you close and mumbling/whining your name over and over again

if you’re male/amab :

he loves giving you head and eating your ass and wants you to use him. it really gets him going. it’s bc of his incredibly patent inferiority complex and feeling like he’s a good for nothing piece of shit

he also likes being the one that penetrantes you though. he’ll start begging for praise even though he’s the one topping saying things like “tell me i’m a good boy, tell me i’m your good boy.” “tell me how good i make you feel” “please just tell me i’m doing a good job.” “wanna make you feel good.” all while his big tall frame is hovering above you and ramming into you

a whimperer. he whines and moans a lot, shamelessly. he grunts and groans too. especially when he’s a little bit too frustrated or stressed. and he shamelessly breathes heavily during sex. any noise that he can make will escape his lips. all in all he’s just incredibly vocal and he doesn’t care if people can hear.

he really likes handjobs. preferably with you sitting in front of him so he can look up at you but he also likes it when you’re sitting behind him and you say things in his ear while kissing his neck or cheek and sucking on his earlobe

but he especially loves it when you’re sucking him off and finger his ass at the same time. add a little praise and you’ll have him whining, whimpering and maybe even crying. he’ll be a mess

he often gets teary-eyed during sex because of how sensitive he is. and i mean both his body and his feelings.

he prefers frotting, handjobs and dry humping over penetration.

he wants and needs someone who'd accept him for who he is and wouldn't wanna change him. someone who shares the same morals as him and doesn't have a problem with him being morally grey.

he would want someone he doesn’t have to explain everything to. he knows it’s toxic and not really fair but he hates having to put his thoughts into words. he’s not really good at it.

so he needs someone who’s observant and pays attention to details. maybe even someone who can read body language. just so he doesn’t have to go through the uncomfortable experience of having to say that he’s needy and broken out loud.

he wants someone to pay attention to him and figure him out so well that he doesn’t have to ask for things and they instead know what he wants and needs at certain times and just give it to him.

he gets pissed and sighs while rolling his eyes when he’s showing clear signs of what he wants and you’re not picking up on it.

it took great cruelty to make him this gentle. but to an extent he’s grateful for it because he now knows exactly why it’s so important to treat people kindly and gently.

…

[romanoffsbish]

Don’t Worry, I’ve Got You

GN!OC (Rio) x F!R

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Natasha had planned to sweep you off your feet when she returned from her mission. But it seemed someone else had beat her to the punch… | WC: 5,144

Warning: Domestic Violence - Abusive OC | Mentions of Sexual Coercion | Petrified R | Violence - Blood - Gory OC Death | Happy Ending 😀

Smut: Somno (Consented)-Oral (R) | Tribbing | Overstimulation | Sweet/Soft | Mommy (N)

When Natasha exited the Quinjet she was in a state of disbelief to find Yelena stood there. It'd been a year since she'd been home, and it wasn't the compound she looked to, it was you. Not only was it strange that you were missing, but Yelena being there was truly worrisome.

The sisters loved each other endlessly, but they never wanted to seem vulnerable enough to the others by showing their concern outwardly. For you and Kate though, they'd always be there, and in turn the two of you'd always show too.

"Where's Y/N?" Natasha couldn't hide the fear in her voice, but her face remained neutral.

——

Yelena cringed at the mention of you, it didn't take a rocket science to know what happened.

The blonde wanted to help you the first time she saw you with a busted lip, and a bloodshot eye that wasn't simply from crying. Then you flashed her a nervous smile, and she knew that she would only make it worse. You were oddly attached to this asshole—she understood.

Not to say she didn't help in her own ways, she was fond of you, not the same way as her sister, but enough to want to protect you. There was a very specific reason Rio was sent on an influx of lengthy missions this year by his CO, Yelena, (and it wasn't the hopeful rank bumping).

As a former widow she knew that being under another's control is something you become conditioned to respect over time. Sometimes you're even to the point of defending your abuser, for her they doubled as her captors, she reasons it's the same for you in this case, but regardless the reaction all worked the same.

You wouldn't leave unless you felt safe, and you wouldn't feel that way until Natasha returned.

Which is why Yelena is here now. "Natasha, we need to talk yesterday, fuck the reports." The blonde knew the walls had eyes and ears so she pulled her confused sister off to her bike, then drove her fifty miles out to a quaint diner just far enough from the city that Natasha wouldn't sprint back to immediately avenge you.

It was the right thing to do, she didn't want you to see just how scary Natasha could be. The last thing you needed was to be startled into seeing any part of them inside of your Natasha.

"I'm going to kill them!" Yelena smirked over her stolen coffee mug as they'd moved to the dead fields just to the left of the rest top. The circumstances weren't amusing, but seeing that her sister shared her sentiments elated her.

"This is funny to you?" Natasha questioned, her fist shot out at the blonde with the quick reflexes, landing in her open hand. "Why didn't you help her Yelena? Sh-she was my..."

"Lyubov'," Yelena quietly finished for her, she dropped her fist and wrapped her arms around her trembling body. "I never got to tell her what it meant, she always asked, but just as I was about to tell her I had to go. I never..."

"No!" Yelena reprimanded her, "You are not to blame here Natalia. Neither am I. If I helped her alone it would have been worse. Doveryat'."

(Trust)

Natasha nodded, and for a few minutes they stood there, Yelena thinking over what weapon she will use on Rio, and Natasha mourning through sobs the loss of your perfect start.

Everything in both of your lives had been deeply rooted in pain, and now this would be too. Natasha dreamed of more, she wanted the silly first date where she fumbled over her words, that came with the reward of a kiss.

She wanted to enter into a relationship with that period where you dressed up for each other to go out on the town that slowly faded into lazy nights in wearing matching pajamas.

Natasha adored you wholly, and wanted to make every little thing as special as she could. Up until she left she had already been doing so, but still she feels like she failed you. Maybe if she had just staked her claim more outwardly then Rio would've never taken you as theirs.

They would have never been able to hurt you...

Deep down she knew all was not lost, and she could make it right with you. Natasha also knew Yelena was right, it wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean she didn't carry the burden.

All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and this failed instance will forever haunt her.

"Go pay the bill, I need to make a call." Natasha handed over her card, and as Yelena walked away she dialed in a favor, "Afternoon Hill."

With an urgent need for reaching you the redhead had swiped her sister's keys, and drove them back with a practiced elegance in her every illegal swerve. Yelena grumbled about the likely wear and tear, but there was no genuine anger with her concern, and the redhead couldn't hear her over the racing of her nervous heart, or the harsh wind anyways.

Every second counted, she couldn't risk letting Rio do anything further to you, and she worried that her return might've sparked something in the devious agents voided chest.

"Meet me at the underground cells in an hour," she coldly said to her sister as she tossed her the keys to her bike before she sprinted off. The rooms were spinning when she ran through the compound doors, and it continued to do so until she finally managed to spot you.

You were sitting with your back to the entrance of the communal kitchen, your frame hunched over and your body was lightly shaking. It was clear as day to her that you were sobbing, even if you tried to muffle the sound with your hand.

Natasha wasted no time approaching you, and in her hurry she failed to announce herself. It broke her heart when you jumped away from her touch and skidded across the kitchen.

"I-I'm sorry, I promise I will never mention her again, but please don't —," you cut your shaky pleas off the moment you looked up to see it was a frowning Natasha and not a seething Rio.

Natasha saw the exhaustion in your cloudy eyes, and the rest was painted on your face. Your worry lines were more prominent from when she last saw you, and you looked small. You were once a strong, well built agent at the top of her game, with a ranking higher than her own, but now you looked like a weak prisoner.

There was a scabbed over gash of sorts on the apple of your right cheek, and scratches and bruises all over your upper arms that you tried to conceal with your sleeves but she saw them. The eyes of a spy were a curse just as much as they were a skill to the woman. Because seeing your skin marred broke down her resolve.

"D-don't cry Natty," you yourself said over a sniffle, she smiled sadly as she approached to give you the comfort you were trying to offer.

You whimpered as her strong arms wrapped around your tense shoulders, but your entire body couldn't help but to relax as you smelled the familiar floral scents of her cologne. It was like the world returned to normal for just a moment. All you needed was her touch and suddenly the tears were flowing unendingly.

"It's okay moya lyubov'," she coo'd, and you whimpered once more hearing the familiar words that always brought you comfort. You held onto her shirt beneath her leather jacket for dear life, and she gently swayed your form as you freely sobbed. "You're safe now."

Natasha grinned over your shoulder as her eyes met those of your sleazy partners. Rio's fists were clenched as they stood outside the room, their gaze held contempt as they scowled. They hadn't a chance to interrupt your moment as Maria stopped them in their tracks, and swept them away—if only they'd known of their fate...

"I am here," she whispered, "They are not."

It didn't matter that you knew what her words meant, the meaning was clear; Rio was gone, and you were nothing short of relieved.

Natasha watched as you removed the ring on your finger and dropped it onto the counter in a hurry as if touching the metal harmed you. It was self motivated, but it still left her hopeful to see you denounce them before her own eyes.

The redhead wordlessly pulled you out of the kitchen and you ignored the smell of Rio's musty cologne as Natasha took you straight to her bedroom, a place where you always found yourself sneaking off to when they were out.

While you sat on her bed silently pondering the fact that you were free from this last years terror she ran you a soothing bubble bath. It helped to ease the remaining tension in your body, the warmth of the lavender water helped to soothe the marks atop of your battered body.

Natasha did her best to respect your privacy, giving you her room as she stood outside of the door until you came to collect her. The redhead beamed as you cracked the door and beckoned her inside, seeing you wearing her clothes filled her with a sense of pride, it made her want to remember the way you looked in this moment.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" You smiled softly, and silently nodded towards the bed, she nodded her understanding and laid down with her arms wide open for you to crawl into like you'd always done in the before times.

"I missed you," you croaked, and she pressed her chapped lips against your temple, leaving a firm kiss against the skin and for a moment the persistent ache in your head from the earlier scuffle with your spouse seemed to fade away under the soft affection of your desired lover.

"I missed you too Y/N/N," she sighed, her arms gently tightened around you in emphasis. "Every day I found it harder and harder to stay away. I'm so sorry I was gone for so long, and.."

You shook your head and kissed the side of her neck as your lips were rested there. "Don't."

The redhead sighed, and relented on pushing you beyond your limits. Even if she felt sorry, she still should keep that to herself. It's unfair to ask of your forgiveness, when you were the one who had to endure the cruelty of another. All she was meant to do now was hold you close, and never let this ever happen again.

Once you'd slipped into a state of unconscious that had you snoring the redhead cautiously shimmied out from beneath you. She hated taking the comfort of her embrace away from you, but she had somewhere to be in ten. So with a final kiss to your cheek she left the room, securely locking her door as she did.

"Sestra, welcome to the party!!!" Yelena greeted her sister, "You are just in time."

Natasha took the brass knuckles from her sister's extended hand with a smirk, but before using them she decided to punch Rio square in the nose with nothing but her bare hand. A reminder to the crooked agent that she didn't need anything more to harm them efficiently.

Blood gushed from the asshole's nose and the sisters rejoiced when the pitiful excuse for an agent began to cry. "Seriously? Already crying? What a joke." Natasha snorted at her little sisters taunting, then she turned her malicious attention back to your sobbing ex. "Too bad you're not the funny kind. Just the pathetic."

Rio knew better than to plead for their life. Maria escorted them here and handcuffed them to a chair. Yelena menacingly stood watch over them before Natasha entered. It was clear to the criminal of the hour that their fate was sealed the moment they took your hand in theirs and abused your loving nature.

"Snyat' s nikh naruchniki," Natasha dryly said as she slid the brass knuckles over her fingers.

(Uncuff them)

Yelena obliged her sister, and with unnecessary but warranted strength she shoved them from the chair. "Wh-what's happening? Can I go?"

Natasha chuckled darkly, "Oh please, you are simply being granted a chance to try and throw one of your little punches at me. Show me the inexcusable power you used against her."

Rio smirked, then lunged at the redhead with a confidence they were sure to lose in seconds. Natasha cackled as they punched her nose just as she did theirs with literally no damage done.

"God damnit you're fucking weak!" She cackled as they stumbled back in shock, looking at their fist in confusion as if it betrayed them. "You're going to regret ever laying a hand on her!!"

A taunting smile adorned their face as they challenged Natasha with a tilt of their head. If they were going to die anyways, they decided it would be best to torment her back. "Not only did I smack her around, but I gave her my —."

Natasha socked them in the jaw, cutting their disgusting words off at the source. Only cries of pain left them as the bronze over her knuckles had effectively broken their jaw into sections. Blood mixed with their drool and dripped down their chin along with a chunk of their tongue, and that made Natasha smile wickedly.

Yelena watched with a glint in her eyes as her sister tossed the buff excuse for a human being around as if they were a weightless rag doll.

"Pozvol' mne povernut'!" Yelena eventually whined, and Natasha scoffed, "Imet' eto."

(Let me have a turn / Have at it)

While the blonde tormented Rio with her sharpened knife Natasha chose to discard her weapon and stared at the blood on her hands. Observing as it dripped onto the cold cement of the cell floor, staining it red; her ledger gushed. 

"Natalia!" Natasha shook her head free of the distraction of her dark, self destructive thoughts, and looked up to see a bloodied Rio on their knees, body swaying as they fought to keep their loose grip on consciousness. It was time to deliver the final metaphorical blow.

"Y/N's mine," Natasha growled while holding their disfigured jaw in her hands, her nails dug into their raw skin and they hardly winced as the life force left within them was dwindling. "She was never going to be yours, because she loved me, and she was far too good for you."

"Fut yuh," they spat incoherently, and Natasha grimaced as their blood spluttered onto her face. "I'd bless you, but we both know you're not going to make it to heaven," she teased, smile mocking as her hand lowered to wrap around their neck. Her stony glare of the black widow was the last thing the abuser saw before their lights officially went out. Yelena looked at her, and Natasha smiled weakly at her sister.

"Ready for cleanup," she muttered tiredly into the speaker of her phone, then left the room as fast as she could. The weight of the situation had finally gotten to her, the realization that she could have lost you to that weak fool had her crying the whole way back to her room.

She heard shuffling, so she stood with her head pressed against her door until her breathing regulated, and the tears had come to a stop. Only then did she enter her room, and headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower.

You were flat on your back now, your midriff exposed as the shirt you wore rose up and the plush blanket she left was kicked off the bed. Natasha admired you fondly as she walked out with her towel wrapped around her nude form.

When you finally awoke she was drying her hair in front of her body length mirror, she now wore a pair of biker shorts, and a sports bra. The sight of her flexed abs, and swell of her perfect breasts through the mirror made your mouth even dryer than the amazing sleep had.

The redhead turned around with a soft smirk on her lips, the teasing gesture was however overwhelmed by the distant look in her eyes. She watched guiltily as your eyes filled with recognition when you saw her purple hands.

"Natty?" The redhead sighed softly, "Don't." You nodded in understanding, and patted the bed besides you, and she stalled briefly as she walked into the closet to grab her shirt, as well as her favorite leather jacket for extra layers.

She didn't want to seem like a temptation, even if she only had to exist before your eyes to be.

You honestly couldn't restrain yourself, seeing the physical proof that she'd used her assassin skills to defend you turned you on. It was odd, the way that her violence didn't turn you off. It was perfectly understandable though, knowing that she loved you enough to chose to defend you was the most attractive characteristic.

You were down bad, and Natasha gulped as she saw the way your eyes bloomed with swirls of palpable lust. It took all of her not to pounce on the moment that presented itself to her, but she stood no real chance at abstaining here. In a matter of seconds you were straddling her lap and lifting her bruised knuckles to your lips.

"Y/N," she gasped, a subtle warning in the way her hand trembled in yours, but you cupped her cheeks and smiled warmly before saying: "I want to feel your love Nat, please show me."

Both of your hearts beat out of rhythm, but the jumbled thumps were however in sync. She surveyed your eyes for a brief moment, then she kissed you breathless as she lifted you both up off the mattress. Setting you down on shaky legs she smiled at the way your eyes took time fluttering back open. Her hands settled on the hem of your shirt, "May I?" You nodded, a bit emotional as she sought your permission out.

Natasha was incredibly gentle as she disrobed you, a muffled sob left you as you cherished the unfamiliarly soft touch. It had been such a long time since someone regarded your body this way. Every partner you'd been with since you moved into adulthood had been callous; rough around all your edges and cruel to your curves.

Your parents were just the same, the redhead had given you hope for a brighter future. Then she was gone, no longer present to keep that shadowed figure from exposing themselves.

Rio was never someone you regarded as a threat until the day when they introduced themselves, cocky grin on their face as they asked you out on the date you'd be at later.

It was never a question, it was a veiled prison sentence that you would fall into the trap of.

You were naive enough to believe it friendly, everyone knew you were unspoken for, but the whispers echoed that you were Natasha's girl.

Which you were wholeheartedly aligned with.

Rio disregarded the claim, showing you the empty finger that they shoved a ring onto a month into your assigned arrangement. It devastated you being with anyone that wasn't her, they never physically forced you down, but they used their venomous words to coerce you.

"Moya lyubov, are you sure?" You felt this wave of warmth tingle beneath your skin, and felt as her calloused thumb wiped away your tears. "We don't have to do this yet detka, or ever if-."

"Natasha no," you whimpered, nails dug into the nape of her neck as you feared being left sexually frustrated. You needed her more than you ever thought humanly possible, "Please."

Natasha's arm wrapped around your bare waist, she guided you back towards the bed and kissed your lips the entire time she spent cautiously lowering you onto the mattress. It was like she was in a trance as she took her time kissing away the pain of your scars.

It was her intention to make this moment one full of love, her lips gently kissed over the skin of your stomach and she felt the way your entire body tensed in anticipation. Yet she didn't take the bait, she instead continued to lick the salty sweat from every bit of exposed skin she could, and her kisses continued to drop all over, like into the crook of your knees and elbows, and the apex of your thighs.

You whimpered in need for nearly an hour, but she never heard you as she was determined to feel every last bit of your skin beneath her now numbed lips. Soft snores finally pulled her from her trance, she gazed up at you, her lips stalled on the skin beneath your belly button.

She grinned against your pelvis as she caught a whiff of your abundance, her eyes closed as she felt her mouth salivate in an instant. Her body shuffled until she could eye your cunt, it oozed like a waterfall and seeped into the grey sheets.

With the tip of her nose she nudged your lips apart, then slid up to bump at your clit as her tongue followed the trail with a firm lick. Natasha groaned against your sensitive nub as she truly tasted you for the first time. Her face was absolutely coated in arousal in seconds as she ate your pussy like it was her last meal.

If she goes down for her crimes today she would actually request you as her final meal.

Muffled whimpers left through the part in your lips instantaneously, your hips shifted, then all of a sudden your upper torso arched off the bed and you moaned yourself into consciousness.

You were enthusiastic as your hand wove into her hair and you loudly vocalized her praise: "O-oh my god, don't stop—fuck, never stop!"

Natasha purred against your pulsating clit, a clear indication that she shared your thoughts. Dangerously so honestly, because she made you release on her swirling tongue alone four mind blowing times before she took a break.

While you grappled hazily with the functions of time and space the woman merely watched you in amusement. You were adorable as you came down from your repetitive sequence of highs, yawning obviously and smiling contentedly.

Moments later you finally stared down at the woman whose body was pressed into yours. Natasha smiled up at you lazily, with her slick cheek smushed into your thigh, you returned the gesture and her heart skipped a million beats. You took her breath away every time she saw you, but this time was different, it was even better than she dreamed. She finally had you in every sense of the word, before she left you were already hers in totality, but it was never the right time to take that leap together.

Or at least you'd both thought that you needed the time to be right, but now you knew to stake your claims and to never let each other go.

The redhead needed to be closer to you, so she left the oh so comforting heat radiating from between your thighs behind and began to kiss up the center of your body, a snail trail left in her lips wake with each sloppy press of them to your sweaty skin. She relished in the way you'd shiver as the breeze from the window solidified your essence and had your heated skin chilled.

She smirked once her lips pressed into your cheek as you tugged at her clothes and whined.

"What is it moya lyubov'?" She chuckled, then prohibited your response as she pecked away your pout. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip and you allowed her the moment of distraction. Savoring the taste of you on her tongue as she kissed you breathless, your body pushed back into a needy state as your arousal soaked into her shirt, and she was reminded of your prior whining as you had just tried to undress her.

Natasha shook her leather jacket off of her arm, keeping her body raised on the other like it took no strength at all. She never once broke the kiss, managing to suck your soul from you, she even kept her balance as she threw it off. For her remaining clothes she had to pull away, but you didn't feel her absence for long as she moved rather speedily, almost like a cheetah.

"What does it mean?" You shakily asked as she lowered her cunt atop of yours, a carnal groan then left you, "Fuck, Natasha you are so wet."

She hummed teasingly as she began to rub her aroused cunt against yours, her plump lips hovered your ear as she whispered her secret words: "My love." You felt the warmth of her sigh tickle the skin of your collarbones, and it spurred on a flurry of goosebumps across your body and burrowed deep into your heart. "I'm only ever wet because of you Y/N, every time you'd kiss my cheek goodnight I'd be drooling."

"Oh god," you moaned as her lewd confession was huskily spoken just as her clit brushed over yours, the stimulating touch caused Natasha's arms to nearly give out as she was overrun with pleasure, but her impressive strength won out.

"You've always been mine Y/N," she murmured the truth you both vehemently aligned with as she kept up a breathtaking pace with her hips, it wasn't rushed though which was new to you.

The painstakingly raw jut of her hips left you feeling dizzy, her teeth grazed across the skin of your jaw before her lips latched onto the bob of your throat as your body arched into hers.

It was made worse when she pulled away from your neck and hovered you once more, her lovesick gaze locked on your hazy one, and you were surely a goner as the words as sweet as honey left her saccharine lips: "I promise to cherish your body for a lifetime if you'll let me," her pace sped up just as fast as your heartbeat had, and your eyes brimmed with tears of pure joy as you came in sync with your soulmate.

Whispers of yes and please left your lips in between the moans of her name, and the world stopped when you hoarsely cried out mommy.

Natasha collapsed into you, her arms giving out as her warm arousal gushed from her already dripping cunt onto your thighs as she came again from she's sure your words alone.

"You did such a good job for mommy," she pecked your cheek then pressed her lips to yours and satisfied your needs to kiss her luscious lips as you basked in the aftershocks of your highs in a bubble of undeniable passion.

"Get some rest now detka," Natasha rolled off of you and pulled your limp body into hers. "You're safe with me Y/N, I promise you this."

"I know Natty," you mumbled over a yawn while burrowing your face in between her soft, rounded breasts. The redhead smiled and happily admired your relaxed face, she wore a proud grin as you drifted off, trusting her to keep you safe with the same hands she'd used to wring the neck of your spouse this evening.

You knew deep down that Natasha didn't let them go like you’d thought when she said they were not here. Apparently she was foreshadowing their looming demise. You didn't question her for a meaning when it came to the bruises on her hands, you just accepted it because she loved you enough to bloody her ledger. Though they surely deserved it, she still had to consciously take a life, and even though they were wretched, she still felt the loss.

Good or bad, her heart still cared too deeply.

The world was a safer place, you'd pointlessly reminded yourself of her humanity, as if she would ever lay a harsh hand on you. She who hummed softly, and ran a gentle hand up and down your back even after you'd slipped off into a middle ground. Your mind was still aware but your body was slumped into hers, but you heard her whisper clear as day as her lips faintly kissed your hairline. "I love you Y/N Romanoff, I promise I'll put a ring on your finger soon, I just have to unpack the little box from my suitcase and threaten a judge is all."

You involuntarily giggled softly and her hands teasingly tickled at yours sides, "You sneaky minx," you could hear the smirk in her voice, and you knew then she'd known all along that you were still conscious on some plane. "So, tell me Y/N, will you be my runaway bride?"

"It depends," you yawned out exaggeratedly, "Where will we be running off to Natty-kins?"

"Wherever you want sweet girl, I can make a home anywhere in the world if you're there."

"So romantic," you giggled, your lips brushed over her racing pulse and you left a tender kiss there to try and calm her, but it only made it beat out of sync as it sped up then slowed back down. "Of course I will marry you, just as soon as I can get this crock of fibbery annulled."

"Fibbery?" Natasha chuckled and you whined a little too honestly, "Don't make fun of me, I'm tired, and have a lingering minor concussion."

The redheads breath stalled, her body tensed but you tiredly lifted your head and kissed her chin before you whispered, "It's okay, I'm safe now in my favorite persons arms. Like you said, nothing can hurt me if you're around."

"Damn straight," she said as her grip on you tightened, and you sighed. Natasha's hold was expectantly possessive, which briefly felt too familiar to another's, but the way Natasha kissed the skin beneath your hairline, and continued her prior humming soothed you.

This wasn't the start she dreamed of, but she also couldn't prevent the smile that adorned her sleepy face as you nuzzled even further into her embrace, your clear trust in her meant the world to her and even eased some of her guilt.

You both knew it would be a long while before you were truly yourself again, and you knew from experience that her patience would never waver, and that alone would be enough. One thing was rather clear as you slipped off to sleep—you were safe, and loved just as you'd always deserved to be in your home's arms.

——

[savagewildnerness]

O Earthly Lestat, I see now the trouble I’m going to have with S3 is I may have to defend Nicolas a lot…. And I don’t even know how he’ll be written for TV. But I know he means too much to me, and that’s just that. In a way Nicolas means the most to me. Not that he means more to me than Lestat. But that the elements of Nicolas that I relate to (& importantly as you can never get over this feeling - that I related to as a 12-year-old) I cannot think of any other instance in literature or any other fictional character I could relate to or who so exactly articulated something about me. And so I cannot help but always fight for Nicki 100% (even though I am not like Nicki in all ways.)

I want to CLARIFY! This is not some “Nicolas was Lestat’s actual great love” point of view in ANY WAY! LOUIS, is Lestat’s great love!

But this is: Nicolas loved Lestat. It wasn’t only Lestat who loved Nicki. And Nicolas loving Lestat enabled Lestat to love Louis.

I find it beautiful. YES, Nickistat ended AWFULLY! (And that there was mutual love makes it all the more tragic and beautiful to me!) But I just need to say here…

People acknowledge how much of Louis’ words in IWTV are shaded by his own struggles…. So I can’t understand why so many people seem to take Nicolas’ words in his final argument with Lestat (by which point, with whatever nuance you cut it, Nicolas is as described by EVERYONE as a mad vampire, his mind lost!) as 100% his always-truth!!!?! I just cannot comprehend it!!!?! I’d love if anyone would like to explain how you can see it that way, especially after reading the actual way Nicolas was pre-Paris, in Paris, when Lestat was stolen away… all until the moment he witnesses Lestat be shot. THEN it shifts for Nicki!

I’m also not one for blaming Armand for Nicki’s demise. The tragedy of Nicolas is, Lestat is very responsible for Nicolas’ demise, and simultaneously all Lestat did, he did through love. There are a thousand ways Nicki’s tragic demise is Shakespearean inevitable resonance… and yet…

But yeah, it’s actually primarily because of his music & things around his music that Nicki matters so much to me. But nevertheless, he matters & I shall fight for him!!! Lestat and Nicki's conversation matters deeply to me too, and what Nicki is for Lestat in that conversation. But where I connect with Nicki is in his music and how he feels about his music. I personally connect with Lestat's worldview on the other hand. Although in my personality, I am my self, of course, I also relate to some elements of each of them.

The thing with Nicolas I suppose for me though is there are various aspects of his self I relate to that I have never felt anywhere else except in my own self. Not in fiction & not in anyone I have ever known in reality either. And I guess that’s why I will always fight for him. Also, because most people should understand Lestat - we’re so in his heart & head 💛. But we don’t hear the story from Nicolas’ point of view, yet for me, at times it is like he is absolutely in my own mind & heart or I am in his, or it’s the same thing in some odd way I can’t quite articulate. I feel seen by him, and I see him. I understand some parts of him, reflecting how by existing in fiction, he has understood me.

Back to Nicolas. He kept Lestat’s dressing room at Renaud’s as a literal shrine to Lestat. He fought with his friends over Lestat’s moral integrity after Lestat went missing. Even when Lestat was gone, Nicki was still loving him, fighting for him, staying at Renaud’s, wearing rings Lestat sent him. If he felt as he said in his final argument, why did Nicolas even stay working at Renaud's at all? Why was Nicolas so distressed when Lestat sent him lots of money and gifts but didn't ever contact him?

I just list these things, which are just a few ways we see Nicki's feelings through his concrete actions. Nicolas truly did resent Lestat in the end. Just as Lestat couldn’t stand the sight of vampire Nicolas. But even that doesn’t negate love.

Mortal Nicolas DESPERATELY needed Lestat’s light. Vampire Nicki doesn’t. And I see his cruelty in the final argument (while not being entirely absent of truth) as being partly founded in love…. Nicki knows the dark thing he now is & he knows, even in his addled mind Lestat won’t leave him… and he knows Lestat. He knows Lestat must leave him or he’ll take Lestat to his death with him.

It’s ok that love was once & isn’t eternal. It’s ok that Nicki’s love for Lestat did exist, but turned to hate & yet was never entirely lost. It’s ok that Lestat’s love for Nicki never diminished even though he couldn’t stand the sight of him as a vampire. These things don’t negate love. Hate can be part of love. It’s ok that their worldviews were fundamentally different. It’s ok they were not each other’s eternal loves. There was love. Deep and mutual love.

As I see it, we can accept & enjoy that they BOTH loved each other, and that fact only deepens Loustat.

By which time, Nicolas is long dead.

But I genuinely believe when they were mortal, Nicolas’ love for all of Lestat (even when envying him too!) meant Lestat could later love the all of Louis so unconditionally, as he had been loved that way before.

It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. But it’s mine. I express it with acknowledgment I can’t be objective about Nicolas. But that doesn’t lessen the strength of my truth!

In all honesty… we are all subjective humans. Can we be objective about any fictional character we have an emotional connection with?

And that’s the crux of it: when you CARE so much, ultimately it’s about whatever truth you need.

Maybe we ought to think on this on all of our favourite characters & imagine how it might apply to others for any character we love less unconditionally ourselves…?