#if this happens again i'll simply die

[desi-yearning]

My friend is leaving for a different state and I don't know what to feel

[pathologicalreid]

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

[archangeldyke-all]

sev def lays on top of u whenever she makes u mad until you stop being mad

ASDJFPWEWFPJD:LDF this is so fucking funny and cute

men and minors dni

the first time it happens, you and sevika are in your first real fight of your relationship.

sevika had stood you up on a date, only to show up on your doorstep five hours later bloodied and beaten.

the simultaneous sting of rejection mixed with the heartbreak of seeing your love in such rough shape resulted in you angrily patching sevika up in the bathroom, ranting at her as you tended to her wounds.

"b-baby, you know i've got a crazy job. sometimes i come home bloody. some nights i won't be able to come home at all. and you should know by now that i wouldn't fuckin' stand you up without a good reason."

"i know that sevika, which is why i'd fucking appreciate it if you could send a fucking messenger to me next time you gotta bail on our plans! i thought you were dead in a fucking ditch somewhere!" you cry.

sevika blinks, seemingly not having considered this point yet. "oh." she says, her heart breaking a bit as she realizes how worried you must've been. you're always worried about her; pouting when you find new bruises on her body and giving silco dirty looks when he's been treating her poorly, and sevika knows how hard you work to accept her lifestyle and job-- but she can only fucking imagine how scared you must've been for the few hours where she was missing. she'd die if she thought something happened to you.

"did you hit your head at all?" you ask, glaring down at your girlfriend while your hands gently move her head back and forth, studying her pupils.

"no."

"good." you grunt, dropping your hands quickly and angrily packing up the first aid kit. "i'm going to bed. you need to take a bath-- you stink." you spit, storming out of the bathroom.

sevika blinks, the full gravity of her fuck up hitting her-- and then she rushes after you.

you're cursing her out under your breath and slamming drawers as you change into your pajamas.

sevika cringes, desperately trying to think of a way to get herself out of the doghouse. "baby--"

"i don't wanna hear it, sevika. not tonight."

she gulps, and then does the only thing she can think to do.

in three big strides, sevika's pushing you onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. you squeak, then start to squirm underneath her.

"what the fuck are you doing!?" you ask.

sevika shrugs on top of you. "you're angry at me."

"...so!?" you squeal.

"so i'm squishing you until you love me again." sevika says.

you can't help but giggle, smacking her shoulder. "i still love you, jackass, i'm just mad at you."

"so i'm squishing the mad out of you." she says simply. you laugh, your anger slowly melting away at sevika's sweetness. "i'm sorry. really. i didn't-- i didn't even think of how scary that could be for you. i-i'll send someone next time i gotta stay late. i promise."

with the easy way you melt underneath her after that, sevika starts laying on top of you anytime you argue after that, too.

you bitch at her about how she's always letting food crust on her plates in the sink-- she lays on you.

she skips her dentist appointment and gets a cavity and you're pissed when you find out-- she lays on you.

she spoils the end of the book you're reading on accident, and, you guessed it-- she's laying on you until you finally sigh and forgive her.

it's nice. sevika always uses the time on top of you to figure out her words-- figure out a proper apology and something to make it up to you. you like the pressure of her body on top of you-- it helps the firey anger inside you disperse and it's reassuring to know that even when you're pissed at her, sevika's gonna stay with you.

plus, most of the time your arguments end when you start running away from sevika, insisting she don't lay on you this time, and she chases after you, both of you forgetting your grievances to giggle and chase each other around the house.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[ennn]

Things I Liked About the Agatha All Along Finale - Initial Thoughts

Wooooo boy. Hey look I'm a bleeding heart shipper but I'm old and have been in enough fandoms. Let's process shall we?

Alice! Alice echo-ing what so many fans are saying about her lost potential. Rio actually being kind in reminding Alice her death did have purpose. "You're a protection witch, you protected someone."

The development of Billy's extremely complicated relationship with Agatha. Kid's not loyal to Agatha, he's understanding her, or starting to at least. He sees her being a relationship with Death and he's curious about the story there. He cares enough to connect the dots and see Agatha as a full person. And we see that developed as the finale goes.

"That's it? That's all the time that I get?" The show reminds us that death sometimes just happens – "Sometimes boys die" – I wonder if one of these writers is a Sandman fan because I immediately clocked a parallel to Death of the Endless taking a baby's life in her first comic appearance.

Death of the Endless is of course much kinder than Rio is with her (iconic) reply to that eternal question. "You lived what anyone gets... A lifetime."

That whole convo we got in the preview clip. And then them just sitting down and talking more? Albeit with layers of manipulation but y'know that's them.

Agatha telling Rio that she'll hand over Billy if Rio leaves her alone: essentially making Rio once again choose between her duty and her feelings towards Agatha. The deepest cut Agatha could make – which we see echoed with "If you do this I'll hate you forever." They know each other and the best ways to hurt each other.

I laughed waaaay too much at Agatha ragging on Jen's last vegetable name.

Jen's unbinding ritual was powerful and a fantastic moment for the character. She recognised and embraced her power. Agatha's mask slipping a little at the end as well. Amazing. Sasheer killed it.

The whole scene with Agatha working with Billy to bring Tommy back was beautiful and emotional and well put together and showed the side to Agatha that cements her as a great mentor (when she's not being the biggest murderous asshole).

Agatha using what she learnt from her Alice and Jen – and what Lilia told her – to hold her ground with Rio... okay it lasted like 10 seconds but it was a nice callback! Agatha's such a shameless survivor.

Incredible kissing. We knew Hahn and Plaza would deliver and they did. When it comes to kissing women, these two absolutely go for it.

Rio looking absolutely gutted with having to take Nicky away. Plaza really delivered with Rio's pain in these eps. Agatha calling her "my love", cursing and then begging.

Rio being soft about Nicky despite her job. Nicky willingly going with her with no fear, no hesitation – suggesting that they did bond somehow? Nicky knew she was a friendly face and trusted her. It was really a good death, all things considered. He wasn't sick, he wasn't in pain, he wasn't scared he simply fell asleep and just went.

Rio reminding Nicky to kiss his mom goodbye. She cares so much, as much as a personification of death can. It's funny how some people thought Rio was going to be this manipulative big bad but no, Agatha's the more toxic one in this relationship.

Okay like imagine Agatha finally dying and just straight up BOOKING it before Rio pops up. Rio hates ghosts. The number of times Agatha deliberately pissed her off this finale was amazing.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you for... whatever you did." Aw Billy is a good kid. Just like Nicky was. Agatha needs that reminder, that anchor to not be the Worst.

Chemistry aside, Agatha and Billy being mentor-pupil makes a ton of sense because these Maximoffs do the most fucked up shit (unintentionally) with their magic and Agatha's got the knowledge, charisma, cynicism, and the morals of a spinning compass to support him.

Alright when are they announcing the sequel / spin-off? I know there's a rumour of it happening. Rio's got 2 abominations and one endlessly aggravating ghost of an ex to deal with now.

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM NORMAL PEOPLE *  assorted dialogue from the book by sally rooney, some lines slightly changed to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

i'm not a religious person, but i do sometimes think god made you from me.

i have a sense that real life is happening somewhere far away, happening without me, and i don't know if i will ever found out where it is or become part of it.

no one can be independent of other people completely.

life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.

he probably won't come back.

what we have now, we can never have back again.

for me, the pain of loneliness will be nothing to the pain i used to feel, of being unworthy.

we've done a lot of good for each other.

people can really change one another.

you should go. i'll always be here. you know that.

generally i find men are a lot more concerned with limiting the freedoms of women than exercising personal freedom for themselves.

most people go through their whole lives without ever really feeling that close with anyone.

life is the thing you bring with you inside your own head.

even in memory, i will always find that moment unbearably intense.

i have never believed i'm fit to be loved by any person.

yes. that was it. the beginning of my life.

it's funny the decisions you make because you like someone.

your whole life is different.

i think we're at that weird age where life can change a lot from small decisions.

if people appear to behave pointlessly in grief, it's only because human life is pointless, and this is the truth that grief revealed.

i don't know what's wrong with me.

i don't know why i can't be like normal people.

it feels powerful to put an experience down in words.

people are a lot more knowable than they think they are.

there's always been something inside me that men have wanted to dominate.

i want my life to mean something.

a lot of the literary people in college see books primarily as a way of appearing cultured.

that's the only part of myself i want to protect, the part that exists inside you.

there's something so corrupt and sexy about it.

i wish you didn't have to go.

i wish you could stay the night.

life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.

literature moves me.

it almost sounds sexual.

you learn nothing very profound about yourself simply by being bullied.

it's time you'll never get back.

time is real. the money is also real.

we've done a lot of good for each other.

the snow keeps falling.

hopefully i have changed, you know, as a person. but honestly, if i have, it's because of you.

he does have immaculate taste.

it's not like this with other people.

[name], would you ever fuck off?

you lean in expecting resistance, and everything just falls away in front of you.

i would lie down and die for you at any minute.

sometimes, someone will make eye contact with me, like a bus conductor or a person looking for change, and i'll feel shocked that anyone can actually see me.

we could be in a room full of people and my eyes would always meet yours, just to find that you had already been looking.

there's something comforting about it, something good about feeling sort of numb, detached from it all.

it was different with you, didn't have to play any games with you. it was just real.

no one is ever gonna hurt you like that again. everything's gonna be all right. trust me.

i love you, and i'm not gonna let anything like that happen to you again.

we have done so much good for one another.

[axolotl4days]

Batfam au angst :) also leading into (platonic) yandere batfam

What if Jason wasn't the first kid to die :)

And what if Damian wasn't Bruce's only biological kid :)

Au idea I'm simple terms: what if Bruce had a daughter in his early years of batman, who went missing and dead, but then years later reappeared and was found again, Bruce and the others won't make the same mistake twice.

Author's note before reading: Please keep in mind I'm new to this fandom, so I don't know much about what's canon. I simply get creative ideas really easily and have decided to share them.

If anyone else likes this idea, feel free to rewrite or add onto the concept, if you do please tag me I'd love to see what others do with this concept

I'm picturing reader to be the same age as or potentially slightly younger than Damian, but no specific ages are mentioned

Damian POV:

It was a day like any other, awful, Damian had to go to school. He didn't hate school, just the people there, loud, annoying, nosy.

He went about his day the same as always, reading in class and working on his work, until suddenly the principle came to class abruptly saying they had a new student, which the teacher promptly assigned to sit next to Damian. Great.

The teacher also informed him that he would be the one to show this new student around. So Damian braced himself for the extra annoying questions about him and his family, after all that's what people always want to know.

But to his suprised? This girl didn't care about any of that, simply asking questions about the class and school. She didn't even ask if he was really a Wayne, she looked a bit suprised but it wasn't the usual suprise most people had, and she didn't ask him any questions about it so it didn't matter.

As he showed her around he found out that they had the same classes, he heard her sigh of relief, but when questioned she said she was glad because it ment she wouldn't be alone in any of her classes and she'd have someone to turn to.

As the day went on they would go to class and work on classwork, it seems his new classmate was a lot smarter than the rest of them and he didn't have to constantly help her with work.

At the end of the day he made a mental note of a new acquaintance.

Later that day

"Ah, Master Damian, welcome back. How was your day at school?" Alfred asked, greeting the young boy

"It was alright Pennyworth, we had a transfer student today, but she seemed to be quite intelligent unlike the rest of those peasants" Damian replied

"Oh? A transfer student? In the middle of the school year? How odd."

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, her name is Y/n." Damian said, but after saying her name he noticed Alfred looked pale

"Pennyworth? Are you feeling ill? Do I need to inform father?" Damian asked

"No no, I'm quite alright, it's just, I... used to know someone with that name, so I was suprised to hear it. That's all." Alfred replied, but he still looked pale

"If you say so. I'm going to head to my room and work on schoolwork before it's time for patrol" Damian said, and he was gone without another word

Alfred's POV:

'Calm yourself Alfred. It's a normal name that anyone could have, besides, it's been 20 years. Even if it was her she wouldn't be part of the young masters class. Still... I should inform Master Bruce, incase he mentions this classmate' Alfred thinks to himself before heading to the batcave.

There he finds both Bruce and Tim, working on the computer, searching for sightings of criminal activity, recently rumors of a new villain with unknown powers had started to arise, so it was the batman's job to keep Gotham safe

"Ahem, apologies for interrupting, but I need to borrow Master Bruce for a moment" Alfred says

"Did something happen Alfred?" Bruce asks

"No, not necessarily, it's nothing serious but we need to talk" Alfred replies

Bruce gets up and follows Alfred out of the room

"What is it Alfred? You look like you've seen a ghost." Bruce states

"Apologies Sir, as I said, it's nothing serious, however Damian informed me of a new classmate at school today" Alfred starts

"In the middle of the year?" Bruce comments

"That's what I said, however that isn't the point, I simply wanted to let you know before hand, incase the young master mentions this classmate infront of you.." Alfred pauses

"That's it? Why would you need to inform me of that" Bruce asks confused

"Well you see. He said that her name was... Y/n" Alfred states, and Bruce becomes just as pale as he is

"I see.... did Damian tell you anything else about this.... classmate?" Bruce asks

"No, he did not. But simply stated he'd keep an eye out for anything suspicious." Alfred said

"I understand." Bruce said with a deep sigh

"Are you alright Master Bruce? I know it's been a long time but-"

"I'm fine Alfred. I just... I'm fine. I need to head back to work now, we still don't know what this new villain is capable of, or what they're after." Bruce says, turning away

"Alright sir, if you insist. Please take care of yourself."

Alfred says, but he knows how Bruce is

The patrol went on as normal, and so did school. Nothing particularly interesting happened it was a week like any other, Damian and y/n would work on schoolwork together during breaks, since y/n joined late she had a lot of work to catch up on but she didn't have much trouble and Damian helped her when she did. The two had even become friends, turns out they had a lot in common, and some classmates tried to joke about how they were like siblings, but the two didn't mind. The jokes did make Damian aware of how... familiar y/n looked. He pondered the idea of her being a child from a one night stand, but the timelines didn't match up so he brushed the thought away, thinking it was a coincidence that she looked so much like Bruce. But nothing out of the ordinary happened of note, not until one fateful patrol where Damian made a discovery

Y/n POV:

Y/n didn't know where to go after waking up again, it was clear so many things have changed, and her dad taught her well. She needed more information before she made any decisions.

Unfortunately this ment she had no place to stay. After all, she couldn't go to an orphanage, she wasn't an orphan and she didn't have any documents or a story on where she came from. She knew better than to go to the police, what would she even say to them? So here she was. Sitting under a bridge hoping she won't get sick. But she was strong, she'd do what she'd have to in order to understand the situation better. Even if that means sleeping under a bridge like a troll, even if it means only eating the food provided by the school, even if it means-

"Hello there. Are you alright?" A voice asked making her jump

She turns to see, some sort of vigilante. She had heard in passing about how her dad Batman wasn't the only vigilante in Gotham anymore, so she figured it was one of them

"Oh um, I'm alright" she replied, she hadn't planned to meet any of them, she knew she might meet batman, which she kind of hoped for because then she could get some answers, but this was new territory this was- wait a minute why does he kind of look like Damian?

"Are you sure? Your sitting underneath a bridge at night, kids shouldn't be out here like this you could get hurt. Or worse. Why aren't you with your parents?" The vigilante (Damian) said, after recognizing his classmate, assessing the situation

"It's... complicated" y/n replies, before wondering how much she should tell him "I... can't really talk about it, but I can't go back home.. not yet at least, and I don't have anywhere else to go, so I've just been here" she states, hoping she didn't say to much

The vigilante just stays there for a moment, not saying anything, and she wonders if she said to much or if he thinks she's a criminal

"I see. In any case, you shouldn't be out here alone, the streets of Gotham aren't safe, however if you insist on staying out here may I suggest somewhere that isn't so easily spotted? You wouldn't want to be attacked. I know a few places that are safer than.. this" The vigilante says offering a hand

"Oh, uhm" y/n thinks for a moment, weighing her options "I'll take you up on that offer, it's not great down here" y/n replies, taking his hand

The two go to a more remote, slightly cleaner area

"Here we are, even if it's temporary this would be a better place for a shelter than where you were before. I don't know what's going on, but if you need assistance, im willing to help" the vigilante replies

"Thank you, you've really been more than enough help and I appreciate it a lot. If I need anything il let you know....."

"... Robin. My name is Robin." Robin says, noticing her pause

"Robin... thank you for the help, good luck with the rest of your patrol" y/n says

"Of course, you be careful now, always keep an eye out." Robin says, before leaving

'Phew.... he's gone. That was definitely him, and he definitely recognized me. Now what. He didn't say anything so they're definitely still doing the secret identity thing. I guess I'll just have to play it cool and hope he doesn't say anything at school. If any of the teachers find out I'm definitely gonna get investigated and then my whole plan will be thrown out the window.' Y/n thinks to herself 'Maybe this is a good thing, if he's Robin, it's likely that dad's still Batman too, which means I might run into him. What if he doesn't recognized me? What if he does recognize me?? What if- what if he didn't miss me.... no, no! This is dad, of course he missed me but it's been... so long... what do I do if he doesn't want me back...' y/n starts to worry about before she falls to the floor and starts to cry

Which, unbeknownst to her, Damian saw, he doesn't know why she's crying or why it makes him feel so... protective but he knows somethings up, so he goes off and reports what he knows to Batman

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

Aaaaand cliffhanger! Mwahahahaha

I would have kept going, and I know exactly what's coming next, but I've been typing for awhile and I have no idea how long this post is, and I don't want it to be too long

So I'm stopping it there,

This wasn't supposed to be this much but my creative brain decided to run with this idea, so there's gonna be a part 2 soon

Also I've decided to call this au

Batman Dead Daughter Au

Because.... idk what else to call it and if I'm gonna make a part 2 and potentially more depending on how this goes, I'm gonna need something to refer to it with.

As I said before, I'm extremely new to the batman stuff

Pretty much all of my knowledge comes from youtube and tumblr, so bare with me if things are out of character

I've also never written fanfiction before, it's always just been in my head, so the writing is probably a bit funny

Yes I'm a writer in the making but I haven't actually gotten to the writing part

And fanfiction is a bit different

Hope yall like the concept tho

Again, feel free to write your own version of this if you want to, just tag me so I can read it too lol

[reallyromealone]

Can I request an smiley x reader omegaverse like omega reader is Mikey’s sibling. Like the first time that smiley sees him he instantly knows that’s his fated omega but he has to go through Mikey to try and court reader plz and thank you.

Title: lover

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Sano family, Toman, smiley

Fic type: omegaverse

Pairings: smiley x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, Omega male reader, protective Sano siblings, fluff, cute, soulmate

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Mikey was always an overprotective brother, scaring off anyone who went near his siblings and (name) especially as the Omega was a cutie that grabbed everyone's attention much to his older brothers annoyances.

The Sano brothers always chased off suitors, keeping him away from gang shit but sometimes it was unavoidable.

"(Name), what are you doin' here?" Baji asked as (name) sat at the steps of the shrine doing his homework "Shinichiro doesn't need help at the shop and home was boring so Mikey dragged me here" (name) explained simply as mitsuya nodded "you never been to a meeting, have you?" He asked and (name) shook his head "nyope but Mikey would rather die than have be go out and about and Iza is busy with his own stuff so.... Here I am"

(Name) Met a few Toman higher ups, though (name) was usually helping shin or grandpa so this was one of his first times meeting a few people here.

(Name) Was curious as two motorcycles pulled up, a set of twins hopping off "so why the hell are we here?!" The pink haired one yelled out and (name) was entranced immediately, a small chirp leaving his lips and the smiling teen whipped his head around to see the Omega and a rumble left his throatbas the world halted for them, (name) feeling the need to get closer to the Alpha.

"Alpha..."

"NOPE ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

(Name) Snapped from his trance as Mikey looked ready to murder at the lovestruck look his brother was giving Smiley, he didn't want any fucker near his brother and definitely not one of the biggest Fuckboys in the gang. "(Name)! I will bring you home I swear to god!" Mikey barked and (name) rolled his eyes "oh please! I'm not doing anything!" He fired back and the blond groaned annoyed "just stop making eyes at my captain and smiley stop looking at him like that or I'll kick your ass!"

That did nothing, Everytime smiley shot the other a flirty glance, (name) smiled all flustered and that just egged the Alpha on further.

"I swear to fucking god!" And (name) went back to his homework.

"He is NEVER going to a meeting again!" Mikey said angrily as they got home, Izana glancing up as Emma and shinichiro made dinner "what happened?" The teen girl asked, tilting her head slightly and (name) pouted "I didn't do anything! Mikey is being dramatic!" (Name) Huffed as he sat beside Izana "Iza! Make Mikey stop being a drama queen"

Shinichiro looked at Draken who was leaning on the door frame "ken, what happened?"

"(Name) Met his dated pair" he said simply and the room was silent as Izana moved to sniff his brother "you don't smell like (scent)" the white haired man accused and they looked at him expectantly and (name) pouted as grandpa made a grunt "when do we get to meet em?" The old alpha asked and (name) huffed "after I get to meet him!"

"So you are trying to kill me!" Mikey cried and (name) rolled his eyes.

It wasn't till the following week that (name) saw smiley again, the two halting as (name) went to get groceries for dinner "it's you!" (Name) Was over the moon as the older kawata looked at him with a flirty grin "watch out now, Mikey might kick my ass" he teased and (name) huffed "he wouldn't dare" oh Mikey would but (name) in turn would throw shit at him.

Smiley walked with (name) around the store as they chatted, falling so easily into a routine as the Alpha kept his fated pair close as the Alpha paid for the other "you don't have to!" (Name) Looked guilt as smiley shrugged "not gonna let my mate pay for shit"

The two walked to the Sano house as shinichiro was reading a magazine on the engawa casually "OI! one foot apart you shits!" The eldest barked out and (name) pouted, the other two brothers poking their heads out and Mikey glared as Izana stared coldly at the elder twin "(name)! Didn't I say no dating till I'm dead!" Mikey grumbled out and (name) rolled his eyes "I'm older than you!" (Name) Fired back as the two squabbled leaving the eldest siblings to judge smiley "this house is traditional when it comes to courting, if you want to be with him it's not gonna be easy"

Shinichiro wanted his younger brother to date a nice alpha not.... Not smiley.

Anyone but smiley--- I'm almost anyone because he's seen the people his brothers hang out with.

Maybe like mitsuya, yeah mitsuya would treat him well.

And thus started the courting process, all dates had a a chaperone of one of the siblings, the two never getting to be alone (unless you count the times smiley snuck into (name)s bedroom so they could makeout) and the brothers judged any gift that smiley got (name) "looks cheap" they said but (name) was giddy at anything his mate to be got him.

(Name) Got him little trinkets and a cute bracelet set that the Omega seemed very proud of and Smiley wore the matching bracelets with pride.

"Where ya taking him"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Hope you booked a reservation for three"

Smiley was ready to throttle his close friend and his family but knew they were just worried about their pack Omega dating though thank fuck grandpa Sano was chill with him and actually seemed happy that (name) found his soulmate.

"These goofs are all planning on moving out, (name) is the only one who is interested in running the dojo" grandpa Sano said randomly while Smiley waited for him to finish getting ready "you're a good kid, I know what my boys do so I know you can hold your own" he continued and smiley for once wasn't so well... Smiley but instead Nahoya.

"So what do you want to do, after school?"

"My brother and I want to run our own ramen shop, we have a name for it and everything"

The old alpha hummed, seeming pleased with his response "hardworking young man, (name) is a strong young man, doesn't like to be tied to his omega status despite his brothers attempts... Let him do what makes him happy" the elder man asked him and nahoya nodded "if he wants something, I'll do whatever I can to provide it"

"Good, now (name)! Hurry up! You're making this young man wait forever!"

"I'm coming I'm coming!"

Grandpa Sano watched how much love was between them, he hoped he could get to live to see them get married.

Maybe even to see a few pups.

[manicrouge]

[ᴄᴡ]: discussion of death.

Reader who's scared of death and Simon, who has been exposed to death for almost the entirety of his life.

You often get panicky whenever you think too much, and over the course of your relationship, you haven't mentioned anything about it to him because you understand what he does for work and, while it sounds stupid, you're scared to tell him because you've got it in your head that he'd laugh at you or poke fun at it when it's a genuine fear.

So, you choose to suffer alone until you simply can't anymore.

You're laying in bed at night and you've been fighting the urge to toss and turn for the past hour now, your eyes are watery and your veins are ice cold as you attempt to weasel your way out of a full blown panic attack.

It's seemingly impossible, however. Your mind is going one hundred miles an hour and all you can do is sit in this paralysis type state as you contemplate your own mortality. But, you don't want to die; you love your life too much, you love your life with SImon and when that happens, you're never ever gonna see him again.

Your mind takes a short turn as you turn to look at the sleeping man beside you.

He's going to die one day.

This when the panic really starts to set in and you can't help but let a few tears slide down your face, letting a started gasp escape you when Simon opens his eyes.

Immediately, his hand is squeezing your waist and he's pulling you closer to him pressing kisses on your forehead. 'Hey, hey, sweetheart, you're okay,' he gently soothes, brushing his hand through your hair. 'What's wrong?'

More tears pour down your cheeks as you look at him, and in a blubber of hopelessness, you confess, 'I don't want you to die.'

He stills for a moment, looking at you before his lips form into a frown. 'I'm not gonna die, love. I'm right here.'

'But you will- and I will too,' you sniffle.

You wince awaiting his answer, yet, all he does is pull you closer. It's different to no other night, nothing has changed and he's still here even after what you believe to be a silly fear.

'And I'll find you in the next life,' he eventually says, 'and the life after that, and so on.'

'How do you know that?' you croak, burying your face into his chest.

His fingers lightly dig into your bare waist and you feel him plant a kiss atop your head before bothering to answer you.

'Cause I found you in this life, love.'

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Realization - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.6k+

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die" 

Alternatively, 

Yoongi dreams of you... dreams of a family with you

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Angst, angst and angst

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: Again, this chapter has both readers and Yoongi's pov. Two more chapters to go before we say good bye to this couple.

Read the next chapter

Yoongi’s kisses have always been near perfect. ‘Near’ - because most of the time certain emotions were missing in them. 

And most of the time it was love. 

You never complained about it, not even to yourself. You knew his kisses would hardly ever be filled with love when those are directed towards you. 

However, that never stopped you from wishing, from imagining how would his lips taste when those are drowsed in love - love that he has for you, only for you. 

Today when Yoongi kisses you - you feel it. 

You feel how his kisses have turned different, how those are more loved and less rushed. You feel it - you feel Yoongi’s heart hammering against his chest and the vibration spreading through your body. 

But it’s a joke of the universe. 

Right when Yoongi feels what you have always wanted him to feel - you have to go. 

You need to go. 

And you will go. 

Because a part of you wants to leave him behind and come back to see if he really waits for you or not - if he keeps the only promise he made to you or not. 

If he still loves you or not. 

So, you don’t kiss him back. 

You don’t turn back to look at him when you leave for the retreat. 

For once, you decide to put yourself ahead of everyone… even Min Yoongi. 

Four weeks makes a month. 

And four weeks also make Min Yoongi’s life a living hell. 

The four weeks he spends without you near his vicinity are simply the worst weeks of his life - the mental strain he feels, can’t be compared with anything he has ever felt. 

When Gyuri left, he drowned himself in alcohol, tried to forget her, tried to remember how he lived before she came into his life. 

But after you left, he starts to remember you more and more and more. 

During the first week, he plunges into work. 

Gyuri’s comeback is around the corner and he still has a lot of work to do. So, he stays inside the studio and barely leaves. 

But everytime his eyes fall on the spare chair, on the leather couch - he finds traces of you. 

Your quiet laugh, your eyes, your sighs, your breath on his skin, his hands around you and even before he knows, his cheeks feel wet. 

Min Yoongi cries - he cries for you. 

During the second week, it becomes impossible to stay confined inside his studio anymore. 

Namjoon has been bugging him too. His friend has almost begged him to leave the studio to at least wash up. 

He, too, has been thinking about heading to his apartment, washing up and sleeping for an entire day or two. 

So, he finally leaves the studio on a Tuesday afternoon, takes a bus then a subway and then walks to his apartment. 

He stares at the sky, at the changing colors of the season, he walks through a park, witnesses happy families and thinks of you. 

What if the tragedy didn’t happen? 

What if you still had the baby and he was on the way to being a father? 

What if he wasn’t so afraid of marriage or kids? 

Would it then.. Would you then be the one for him? 

Yes. he knows it’s a yes. 

When he falls asleep that day, he dreams of you. 

He dreams of a home, floor to ceiling windows, a baby on your chest and him watching you. 

He dreams of a family - a family with you. 

And he keeps daydreaming the scenario for the rest of the second week. 

During the third week, Yoongi becomes restless. 

His throat gets dry, his hands become fidgety and he realizes missing you has started taking a toll on his psyche. 

The unbound want and need of wanting to see you once, having you close for once - is ruling his entire being. 

He has never had this strong of an urge ever before. He had never suffered like this ever before. 

He gets cranky, almost gets into a fist fight with a man who wouldn’t leave the reserved seat for a pregnant woman in the bus, he almost screams at Namjoon for being too clumsy. 

He becomes someone he doesn’t even know. 

And among all of it he realizes how much you have kept him sane all these times. 

How much he had damaged your well-being. 

He feels like a criminal but he vows to be better when you come back. 

“Just a week more.” he tells himself every now and then. 

“Just a week.” he tells himself whenever the suffering becomes a little too hard to take.

The fourth week begins with a lot of anticipation. 

He doesn’t know when you are returning but he knows he would take you in his arms the moment he gets to see you. 

He knows that he would tell you that he loves you… he fucking loves you so much that he is going crazy, he would ask for your forgiveness and would beg for a chance. 

He knows he will. 

He just doesn’t know if you would let him or not. 

The fear of your reaction or rejection keeps making him sick. 

His breath shortens whenever he thinks of your cold face, emotionless eyes. His fingertips get numb, his heart drops. 

So, is this what you have been feeling all along? 

Is this how you had felt whenever he acted indifferent towards you and your feelings? 

Now as the tables have turned - Yoongi wants to punch himself in the face. He has been the worst guy on this planet and you still loved him as if he was the best. 

He stares at his phone in fear and embarrassment. 

He had sent you a ktalk text asking the date and time of your arrival. It’s Friday already and you should be home before Monday. 

And he should be there to pick you up. 

It’s been more than five minutes with no reply. 

He starts to bite on his nails.

Min Yoongi is nervous and only you can make him so. 

His doorbell rings, making his concentration divert. When he looks through the peephole, he finds Gyuri standing there. 

“Now you don’t even take my calls? Answer my texts?” Gyuri shouts when he lets her in. 

“None of those were related to work. So, it was unnecessary for me to reply to you.” He replies in his usual flat, cold tone. 

“We are not in a usual, work-relationship, are we?” Gyuri challenges. 

Yoongi feels a sharp headache forming in his pressure points.

“Yes, we are in a work-relationship only. I guess I cleared it out on the last day we saw each other." He recedes inside his apartment, sits down on his couch but doesn’t invite Gyuri to follow suit. 

“You didn’t clear anything out! I need to know what happened all of a sudden? You are in love with me then why, why don-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, but I am not in love with you anymore, Gyuri. I have moved on. I had moved on long ago but failed to realize that because I was so hungry for a closure. The closure of you and me. And I have got that now. I have got it, and I am giving you one. Let’s just be colleagues from now on, okay?” Yoongi stares into her eyes while saying those words with more confidence than he had ever felt. 

Gyuri breaks down in tears before his eyes but he feels nothing. He feels numb. 

“But- but Yoo-yoongi-” 

“Gyuri. I am in love with someone else. And I don’t want to lose her, not this time.” he punctuates his words with a sigh, silently praying for Gyuri to understand him. 

“Y/N.. isn’t it?” Gyuri whispers, managing to wipe her tears. 

“Yes.” Yoongi replies, with his heart. 

When he comes back to his phone after sending Gyuri back… he finds two texts from you. 

Y/N (10:33 pm): Gimpo airport, Saturday, 3:30 pm.  Y/N (10:35 pm): I will be waiting for you.

The retreat was one of the best decisions of your life. 

One month went in the blink of an eye and you are already returning tomorrow. 

The center is located deep in the mountains. It is a quiet, very quiet place. And the month you have spent here has been very peaceful as well.  

There are a few doctors working with the patients, you have successfully taken therapy from one of them. She has understood you well, provided opinions that didn’t go past your head that didn’t make you feel as if something is royally wrong with you, and she had urged you to talk to Yoongi when you get back. 

You are looking forward to doing the same. 

You farmed vegetables here, which has been therapeutic to your soul. Something about watching the vegetables grow had worked like a balm on the grief of losing the baby. 

You exercised each morning, went for walks through the steep paths of the mountain some evenings, worked on the lyrics of several songs on a pen and paper on some nights. 

And you have thought of Yoongi. 

Amid all of these you realized, you will never ever be able to resent him, to be indifferent to him, to be angry with him. 

You also realized, you can hardly love anyone as much as you love him. 

The realization didn’t frighten you. It made you smile. 

Because somewhere you felt your feelings would be returned this time. 

So, when his texts arrive on your last night at the retreat, you smile at your phone. 

He is eager to meet you. 

Min Yoongi wants to see you just as much as you want to see him. 

Min Yoongi has been waiting for you.. As much as you have been waiting for him. 

And maybe… just maybe… 

Min Yoongi is in love with you as much as you are in love with him. 

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[cjlouwho]

prompt: something where buck and tommy argue over gerrard. like, buck doesn't know how tommy could have been so passive, and tommy's like way over that version of himself or something. I know a lot of people don't want that to happen in the show, and I get it, but I'd like a fic version!

“I have never, in all my life, dealt with someone so- so... so evil!” Buck was pacing back and forth in Tommy's living room, just as he'd been for the last half hour since he arrived.

“Really, Evan? Never?”

“You don't understand, Tommy. Gerrard is, it's like he's targeting me, but not in a bad way.”

“There's a good way to be targeted?” Tommy asked from his spot on the couch.

Buck sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “It's like he- he wants us to be buddies, ya know? He thinks I'll be his puppy or something. H- He's treating everyone else like garbage except for me and it makes me feel really weird. He took me golfing, Tommy. Golfing.”

“You fit his ideal firefighter, Babe. He needs minions, he's gonna latch onto you.”

“What do you mean his ideal firefighter? What even is that?”

“White, strong, straight,” Tommy replied simply.

Buck raised an eyebrow. “What we did yesterday morning was very not straight.”

“Yeah, but does he know that?”

“Does he know what we did yesterday morning?”

Tommy tilted his head. “Evan.”

Finally, Buck plopped down on the couch, staring toward the blank TV. “I figured he knew after we went to the medal ceremony together.”

“It's not like we made out in front of the crowd. For all he knows, we're friends.”

Buck was silent for a moment. “I've never really talked about my personal life with him,” he admitted. “Didn't really want to. N- Not because I'm ashamed or anything,” he added quickly, looking at Tommy with wide eyes. “I'm not. I promise, I- I'm not ashamed.”

“I know, Evan.” Tommy reached over and gave Buck's hand a squeeze. “You're a very good ally.”

He glared at Tommy. “I'll never live that down, will I?”

“Nope.”

Buck grew quiet again, and Tommy was beginning to think the conversation was over.

Then Buck, barely above a whisper, said, “I don't want him to think we're just friends.”

“It's fine if he does,” Tommy replied. “I don't mind. Probably best that way, honestly.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. He turned more toward Tommy, his back leaning against the armrest. “What do you mean?”

Tommy contemplated his words before speaking. “Listen, I'm not telling you to be buddy-buddy with the guy. I definitely do not recommend that. I'm also not saying to turn a blind eye to all the crap he pulls. But, why make it harder on yourself?”

“Because it's living a lie, Tommy.”

“It's not lying if you just don't mention it.”

Buck huffed out a breath. “You want me to hide who I am? I distinctly remember that being the reason our first date ended so abruptly.”

Tommy let out a deep breath. “I'm not saying to hide, Evan. And that's not exactly the reason our date ended, you know that. I'm saying if there's been no reason to bring it up so far, why bring it up now? What he thinks about you doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid himself of the growing frustration. “So, what? You wanna walk into Gerrard's office and say 'Hey, I'm bisexual by the way. Also, I'm dating that Tommy guy you worked with years ago. You know, the one you made fun of when you saw him at the medal ceremony?' You really think that's the best thing to do?”

“It's better than being his puppet like y-” Buck cut himself off abruptly.

“Like me?” Tommy finished. “That's what you were gonna say, isn't it?”

“Tommy, I-”

“It's true,” he continued with a shrug. “I was his puppet. I did whatever he wanted me to do and I didn't question it. Even after he was going to let me die in that explosion, I still stuck by his side. I don't deny that part of my life, Evan.”

“I wasn't trying t-”

“You know I apologized for all of that well over a decade ago, right? I feel like I remember us talking about that.”

“W- We did.”

“And I would never want or expect you to be who I was. You know that?”

“I know, Tommy, I-”

“And I'd never ask you to hide yourself, because I did that too and-”

“If you'd let me finish a damn sentence,” Buck snapped.

Tommy stopped, stared at Buck with pursed lips. A silent go ahead.

“I don't- I didn't. I... Ugh, Tommy!”

A pause, then. “That's what you needed to let out?”

“God, you're being so annoying right now!” Buck could feel his body getting hot.

“No, I'm trying to stop you from getting needlessly harassed at work.”

“By essentially cutting off a part of myself every time I'm there!”

“Evan, if your sexuality hasn't come up by now I don't see a reason why it ever would! It's not cutting off a part of yourself, it's just existing!”

“But I- I'm getting special treatment because he doesn't think that part exists,” Buck tried to explain. “I don't want to be his right hand man, Tommy. That might've worked for you but it doesn't work for me.” The words came out harsher than he intended. He knew it was a low blow to bring up something from so long ago, something long dead and buried. But Tommy had made him upset, and he needed to make Tommy upset too.

Except Tommy didn't get upset. He got quiet.

Somehow, that was worse.

A tension so thick you could cut it with a knife filled the air.

After what felt like an eternity, Tommy stood, letting out a sigh. “I'll be back,” he said, beginning to walk out of the living room.

“What- Where are you going?” Buck nearly shot out of his seat. “Are you leaving?”

Tommy turned back to him. “First of all, my house,” he said, motioning around the room. “Second, I'm going into the kitchen to get a drink.”

“Well, I- do you want me to leave?”

“I didn't say that, Evan. I mean, I'm not gonna block the exit if you wanna go, but I prefer to finish the arguments I get involved in.”

Buck sat back down. “Then I'm staying.”

“Good. You want water or something?”

Buck folded his arms over his chest. “With ice.”

“Okay.”

A couple of minutes later, Tommy returned with two cups of water in his hand. He held Buck's out to him, Buck taking it with a low, “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” They both took a few sips, then Buck stared down at the ice in his cup until Tommy started talking again. “You're not wrong,” he said. “Being his right hand man did work for me for a long time. It's not something I'm proud of, and I don't make excuses for it, but I also don't really appreciate it being thrown up in my face.”

Buck set his glass on the coffee table. “That wasn't fair of me, I- I know that. I was just angry. I'm sorry.”

“I probably should have tried explaining myself a bit better,” Tommy replied. “I'm sorry too.” He set his own cup down, then held his arm out toward Buck. “Will you come here?”

Buck didn't hesitate to move into Tommy's space. He curled up next to him, resting his head on Tommy's chest while Tommy wrapped him in his arms. “I can't help wanting to protect you, Evan,” Tommy said, pressing a kiss to Buck's head. “I know you don't need it, and I know it's selfish, but the idea of you getting harassed by that man for any reason, it- it scares me. I have,” he let out a humorless laugh, “I have never been as brave as you. I still feel nauseous every time I see the guy. But I never want you to feel like I want you to hide yourself, or that I want you to be like me. That's not what I meant.”

Buck ran his hand slowly up and down Tommy's chest. “I know. I- I get it. I've never dealt with a Gerrard before, not directly. Didn't think I'd ever have to.”

Tommy hummed. He ran his fingers through Buck's hair. “I will back whatever decision you make,” he assured him. “Whether you tell him or you don't, I am right beside you. I never want you to think I'm not.”

Buck propped himself up enough to be able to look at Tommy. “I know you are,” he replied, bringing a hand to Tommy's face. He stroked his thumb along Tommy's cheek, then leaned up for a kiss. “That's why I love you.”

Tommy sucked in a breath. His heart began to race. They'd never said those words before. Honestly, Tommy had stopped himself a few times, figuring it was way too soon.

But, as always, Evan burst through every door Tommy had locked up in his mind.

“I love you too, Evan,” he replied, and he hoped Evan could feel just how much he meant those words.

But, in case he couldn't, Tommy pulled him in for another, deeper kiss. Holding him close and tight while he wished they could stay right here in this moment for the rest of their lives.

When they finally separated for some air, Buck sat up straighter. “I'm going to tell him,” he said without an ounce of fear or hesitation. “Maybe not the way you suggested, but I... I want him to know I'm yours, and your mine, and screw whatever he has to say about it.”

And God, if Tommy thought he couldn't love this man anymore than he already did, there went Evan proving him wrong.

He nodded. “Okay.” He brought Buck's hand to his lips, pressed a kiss against his knuckles. “I'm with you. I love you.”

Buck smiled, wrapping himself up in Tommy once again. “I love you more.”

[fishbonex]

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

Elphaba Thropp x fem!reader x Glinda Upland

Summary: Your heart breaks when you hear the news about Elphaba. It breaks even more when Glinda returns without her to see you.

Word Count: 1,3K

Warning: ANGST, mentions of spells (don't tell me), prejudice.

note: reader is a witch too.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

"I insist that you should come with me." Elphaba's deep, calm voice sounded from beside you, making you turn your head towards her.

You snorted lightly. She had been insisting on this ever since the Wizard's invitation arrived. And you kept refusing, this was her moment. Elphaba deserved this. She deserved the whole world.

"No, Elphaba." you turned on the grass, your body facing hers. "Seriously, it's going to be great. You're going to do amazingly well, as always. And he's going to love you, everyone loves you."

You had dragged Elphaba out to the field after Shiz after school ended, wanting to have a moment alone with her before she left the next day. You would have called Galinda, but she seemed too busy with Fiyero, so you just shrugged.

Your friendship with Elphaba seemed like something that was destined not to happen, since you weren't exactly outgoing and she was very closed off, always on the defensive. You didn't blame her, it was all the prejudice she had suffered throughout her life that was to blame.

"I wish someone important was with me at this... such an important moment." she smiled slightly. "Are you really sure?"

Before answering, you looked at the field around you and bent down to pluck a delicate white flower that was lying near your feet. Holding it, you turned to Elphaba and stared at her for a moment, feeling your heart swell. With a delicate movement, you took her hand and turned it over, placing the flower in her green palm.

Holding her hand gently in yours, you closed your eyes for a moment and then released her.

"Did you make a wish on the flower?" she asked, lifting one corner of her lips, her gaze falling to the small flower in her hand.

"I put my best thoughts and wishes into it." you replied, bringing your hand to her chin to tap it with your index finger. "The flower knows I wish you the best, take it with you and return it to me when you return to Shiz."

Elphaba smiled the big smile that warmed your heart and leaned in, wrapping her arms around you.

At dusk you saw Galinda's small figure open her arms towards you in the middle of Shiz's courtyard and automatically opened yours before running towards her, feeling her lift you off the ground lightly.

"Galinda! I told you not to do that, you'll end up hurting yourself." you scolded as she lowered you again.

"It never gets old for me," she hummed. "I haven't seen you since the classes ended, where was my dearest friend?"

"Your dearest friend?" you giggled and she started walking, pulling your hand.

"Don't let anyone hear." she spoke almost singing again. "I was with Fiyero, and you? Where? And with whom."

She turned to you with big, expectant eyes, squeezing your hands tightly.

"With Elphaba, I wish I had more time to say goodbye." you said simply, shrugging.

"Oh! Elphie. I wish the same, having more time to say goodbye." she said and clung to you dramatically, hiding her face in your shoulder. "My roommate is leaving."

Galinda's dramatic and over-the-top ways had previously driven you away from her, but she ended up becoming your friend when she saw you talking to Elphaba. The arrangement worked out, somehow.

"I just had a magnificent idea!" she suddenly shouted, releasing you.

"What?"

"You can live with me while Elphie is away!" she put both hands on your shoulders. "It'll be perfect! That way we won't suffer so much when she's gone."

"She's not going to die, Galinda." you laughed. "But if it makes you happy, fine, I'll live with you."

You knew it wasn't going to happen. Just like you knew Galinda would get on the train with Elphaba. Your vision was clear this time.

You saw them both walking hand in hand down the emerald green corridor, heard the wizard's voice and then your vision ended. You couldn't interfere, even though you had seen very little.

Hence the flower. A protection spell might not be enough, but it was the most you could do without interfering with future events.

Galinda let out an excited squeal that snapped you out of your thoughts and her heels began to click on the floor as she pulled you up and started running towards your dorm.

The day in Shiz was overcast after the green train had left to Emerald City. You were writing one of your sorcery lessons when your head buzzed, forcing you to groan and squint. The vision was blurry at first, and the voices were muffled, but slowly it began to make sense.

Elphaba's irritated voice rang out, followed shortly by Galinda's calm request for something from her. Her vision blurred for a moment before focusing again, this time clearer. The outlines of Elphaba and Galinda stood in front of a large glass window.

When your head buzzed again, the image that appeared was that of your friend flying in front of a group of people, who were pointing guns at her. Galinda had her back to it, hugging Madame Morrible tightly.

With a groan of pain, you opened your eyes, looking around your dorm desperately, not really looking for anything. It wasn't supposed to be this way, why were they threatening Elphaba with weapons? Why wasn't Galinda helping her? Letting those people point their guns at her?

She managed to cast a spell to fly. In the midst of the whirlwind of negative thoughts, this one at least left a hint of pride in you.

Your despair did not pass with the hours of the day and to make matters worse, Madame Morrible's announcement of Elphaba's capture only made everything worse. Your stomach ached with worry, your head throbbed with agony.

None of it was true. Elphaba was not an enemy, she was not. And there was no evil in her either. You shivered when Madame Morrible's sophisticated voice called your best friend the Wicked Witch.

Some students who were unable to contact their families remained in Shiz until the next day, and you were among them, your eyes heavy with sadness, your chest heavy with a pain you could not explain.

Sitting on one of the fancy benches in the courtyard, you didn’t bother to look up when you heard the familiar click of Galinda’s heels approaching.

"You-you couldn't go home?" her soft voice rang out in the heavy silence present. "You can go to my-"

"Get out of here, Galinda." your voice sounded hoarse, perhaps from the hours you spent crying without knowing what to do.

"Did you know that you're the only one who calls me that now? It's just that I changed my name, now it's Glinda." she tried to sound optimistic, approaching with hesitant steps. "But you can keep calling me Galinda, I don't mind."

At another time, you would have laughed and thought she was silly and funny. But not now, not after what she did.

Encouraged by your silence, she spoke again, now almost standing in front of you.

"I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to anger her. And also Madame Morrible-"

"You already have everything, Galinda!" you snapped, standing up. "You have money, you have beauty, and everyone loves you. What do you lack?! Elphaba means so little that at the first opportunity to have the attention of someone who doesn't care about you, you trade her?"

"Don't yell..." she tried to take your hand, but you pulled it away abruptly. "I don't like seeing you sad."

"How do you want me to feel? What do you think Elphie is feeling right now?" your voice broke as tears began to threaten to spill over. "You're a terrible friend."

This seemed to shock Galinda and she staggered back a few steps, her large eyes widening even further.

"You didn't really mean it." she spoke even more softly.

"I meant." you ran your hands over your face and looked at her. "I don't want you to come near me anymore. Or even speak to me."

"No..." Galinda's broken voice made you sadder, but you started walking quickly away from her anyway.

[bg-brainrot]

The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water. 

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more. 

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation. 

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force. 

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub. 

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

[holybibly]

This is a sweet thing for my little March Bunny @wisejudgedragonhairdo

Happy Birthday, darling 💗💗💗 Stay obedient, Bunny, and your mistress will surely spoil you even more.

Hotter, more dangerous and crazier than ever, our gorgeous toxic boyfriends are back!

Sometimes you were afraid of Wooyoung. Not in the way that he frightened you or threatened you; no, Wooyoung loved you like crazy, and it was this craziness that frightened you.

There were days when he would be furious, mocking you in all sorts of ways, only to press you against the bed with his strong and hot body and talk about how much he loved you—so much that he was ready to kill you. Yes. Wooyoung was ready to kill you if it meant that you would be his and his alone.

That's what happened now; he literally dragged you home, hissing like an angry cat, all because you didn't answer when he called you.

His hands were rough as he pushed you onto the bed and immediately got on top of you, wrapped his hand around your throat, and pulled you into an aggressive, carnal kiss. Wooyoung had always loved to kiss passionately and deeply, so deeply that you got the impression that he was trying to drink your very soul through your mouth. His grip on your throat tightened, indicating that if you did not obey, he would simply strangle you until you became the soft and gentle girl that you were meant to be.

"Do you really find obedience so difficult? If you want to act like a bitch, I'll treat you like one, princess." Wooyoung hissed and squeezed your throat a little, causing you to let out a moan of pain.

And he meant every word of it as he fucked you like an animal—growling, biting, and clawing at you. His teeth left swollen, angry marks on your soft skin; his fingers dug into your thighs until they bruised; and his hips slammed into your ass with such force that the skin was red and painful.

At one point, as he continued to thrust hard and deep into your sensitive pussy, he pressed his chest against your back.

"I love you so much." Wooyoung's plump, sensual lips left feverish, searing kisses on your neck, and that's when you felt it—he was in tears. "I love you so much. Please, please don't ever leave me. Never." With each word, the speed of his movements seemed to increase. The veins in his forearms bulged and pulsed as one of his arms wrapped around your throat again.

"If you ever leave me, I am going to kill you. You will never belong to anyone else but me. Do you understand what I say?" The threat in his voice was so clear that you cowered in fear, even though his voice was hoarse from crying.

"I belong to you and you alone, Woo, forever."

You could only agree with everything he said because you understood Wooyoung as clearly as you could. Dare to leave him, and you will die.

Getting to know Mingi was like sitting on top of a powder keg. One moment he would be tender with you, a whimpering mess crawling up your legs and drooling on your fingers. The next day, he would literally be raping you, fucking you with such fury and cruelty that you would barely be conscious.

You never thought you'd go out with someone like him—happy, gorgeous, arrogant, rich, and a real bastard at that—but something about him caught your eye, and Mingi, Mingi fell in love with you at first sight.

You were shining, shining like a fucking star in the velvety black sky, and he wanted that light for himself. What you didn't understand at first, and then it was too late, was that Mingi was also incredibly greedy.

He wanted everything from you: attention, obedience, adoration, worship, and love. He wanted your whole damn life.

You didn't plan the evening to end like this; it was just another trendy club you and Mingi went to, and after a few drinks, you went dancing with the other girls while Mingi stayed at the table smoking a joint with other guys. Nothing strange—another evening like the hundreds of others you spent together.

But apparently, Mingi didn't think so. When one of your friends moved too close to you, hugging your waist, he seemed to be wedged. Before you knew it, you'd been torn from another's embrace, your arm already bruised from the tight grip.   "We're leaving." Mingi growled in your ear as he dragged you through the crowd of drunken, excited people. He was filled with anger and jealousy, and he wanted to show you clearly who you belonged to and what was best for you.

And that's how you ended up on your dining room table with Mingi's mouth on your pussy. You had come three times already, but he wasn't going to stop, no matter how sensitive you were.

"Do you think this girl would be better at going down on you? Do you think her tongue would be better than mine? Will you answer me, whore?" His teeth clenched painfully against your thigh and you squealed at the intense sensation. But then you had an understanding of what it was that had him do it, and it was a new one. Mingi was jealous; he had always been jealous, but he had never been jealous of a girl.

His lips wrapped around your sensitive, swollen clit, sucking it aggressively into his mouth, and at the same time, two of his long fingers entered you.

"Mingi, I can't stand it any longer; it's too much." Your hands tried to move his head away from you, but that only made him more angry, and a second later, his palm was slapping you hard across your cheek. The sting was so sharp that your whole body shrank away from the pain, which was strangely mixed with pleasure as he ran his tongue between the folds of your pussy.

"Eyes on me." Mingi ordered in a voice that was dangerously deep. You obeyed immediately, meeting his predatory, narrowed eyes. His make-up was a little smudged, and his eyes were a little out of focus from the joint he'd smoked earlier, but that only made him look even more dangerous.

"Listen, little bitch, that cunt is mine, and I am going to eat it up as much as I want to. Do you understand me or not?" Mingi growled and slapped your pussy once more. You were already collapsing in his arms, and you didn't know how much longer you could stand it, but you knew better than to have an argument with Mingi.

"Yes, Mingi, I understand you."

"That's my doll; now lie down on the table and don't try to distract me." And his mouth was on you again, caressing you with new passion, sweet and painful at the same time.

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when you woke up from a nightmare.

Mark Lee

Mark stirs awake when he felt you shaking, breathing loudly, and agitated. He was quick to get up, shakes you violently jolting you awake. You tried to catch your breathe as Mark lightly massages your back. "Nightmares?" he asked, and you only nod. Explaining to him what happened to your dream. "It's okay, I'm here, we can stay awake for a while you know?" he said, kissing your temples and hugging you quietly.

Huang Renjun

Renjun noticed the sudden movement and the next thing he knew, you're drawn closer to him. Your hold onto his body was tight, so he opens his eyes and turns around to look at you. "Are you okay?" "Just a nightmare." you said sheepishly, he knows how easy you get scared, so he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you enough that he had you wrapped around his body. He hums quietly as he brushes your hair to help you be comfortable enough to sleep again.

Lee Jeno

You jolted awake, tears are flowing, and catching your breathe. You experienced another sleep paralysis and this time, you felt as if you were about to die. You couldn't help but to cry loudly enough for Jeno to stir awake. He was quick enough to pull you to a hug, massaging your back and trying to comfort you with his words. When you calmed down, you looked at your boyfriend with red, puffy eyes, apologizing to him for waking him up. "Don't apologize, I'll be more happy to comfort you when you're having nightmares."

Lee Donghyuck

"Babe, babe..." you opened your eyes to see a worry Haechan. You asked him why but then he just lightly caresses your face. "You were calling for your parents, and you were scared." he explained. You remember your nightmare that involves your parent. You didn't know that it'll result to you calling for them in reality. "Sorry if I disturb your sleep," you apologized to Haechan but he only smile. "Let's call them later okay? Come on now, let's go back to sleep."

Na Jaemin

You woke up from a nightmare. You feel relieved that you woke up from it and as you glance at your phone, it says 3 am. No wonder" you thought. You checked your phone to see any notification from your social media, when Jaemin moved beside you. "Why are you awake?" you simply answered nightmare which made him look at you. "Come here," he snatches your phone away from you, pulls you closer to him and gently brushes your hair so that you can doze off to your sleep.

Zhong Chenle You jolted awake from a nightmare. You didn't noticed that you were crying until you felt the tears running through your cheeks. You tried to conceal it, afraid of waking Chenle who you know is tired from practice. You gently swiped it but it continued to flow like a stream. It wasn't until you felt your boyfriend's hands. Chenle made you turn around to face him and swept the tears for you. "You don't have to hide it from me you know?" you could only apologize but he wasn't fazed by it at all and instead after wiping it, he kisses your forehead to calm you down. 

Park Jisung

Because of the nightmare, you didn't feel sleepy at all, so you opted to go out to drink water. You stayed at the kitchen when you hear light footsteps. "Why are you here?" Jisung's sleepy tone asked. "Just a bad dream," you answered and proceeds to tell him to just go back to bed. Jisung dislikes the idea of him sleeping peacefully while you can't sleep. So he just stood beside you, holds your hand and lightly squeezes it. "Let's stay like this for a while until you wanted to sleep again." 

[maxdibert]

Pretty messed up how some people are fans of a creepy and obsessive guy who didn’t care if a man and a child died just so he could get the girl.

Alright, let's break this down, anon, because there's a lot to unpack here.

I think I've mentioned this in several posts already, but I'll repeat it: Severus owed James Potter NOTHING—no compassion, no empathy, no mercy. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. James Potter was a rich, popular brat who abused his social and economic capital to torment a poor, unsupported boy for seven years just because he didn't like him from the moment they met on the train to Hogwarts, and from that moment on, he had it in for him. He was a terrible bully who used his friends to join in on that nasty bullying. So if Snape didn’t care that he died, well, Snape had every right to feel that way. Do you go to victims of domestic violence and tell them they should feel sorry for their abusers? No, right? Well, this is the same thing. James was an abuser, Severus was his victim. Severus did more than enough by not telling Voldemort to torture him to death with Cruciatus, because I would have. Honestly, I don't understand why Snaters always bring up the whole "James was dead and Snape walked over his body" as if it were some horrible thing when, hello! You're talking about an ABUSER being dead, mate. Of course, he walked right over his body—what surprises me is that he didn’t throw a party.

Harry had to die. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s basically what the prophecy indicated. He was a target that Voldemort wasn’t going to let slip away, his fate was sealed. And yes, it’s unethical. And yes, it’s immoral. But the truth is that wars are unethical and highly immoral, and horrible, monstrous decisions are often made. Harry was not an option—asking for mercy for him was pointless because there wasn’t going to be any.

I don’t think Severus ever believed that if James was out of the picture, Lily would go to him or anything like that. I mean, they hadn’t spoken for five years—about six by that time. Severus NEVER harassed or stalked Lily. The only time he went after her was when the whole SWM incident happened, and he tried to apologise. Once she made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, Severus respected her decision, and as far as we know from canon, they never interacted again. So, I don’t think, after six years of not talking, with his supposed former best friend having married and had a child with his personal bully, Severus had many expectations of them ending up in any sort of romantic relationship. I think, quite simply, that Lily always represented the only good part of his childhood—the only happy memories, the only moments of peace amidst the hellish violence he endured at home. I believe this was crucial for someone like him, whose childhood and teenage years were marked by violence, and he wasn’t willing to let the one good thing in his life end up murdered.

I agree that Severus is highly obsessive, but haters tend to frame this in a derogatory way, referring to his "obsession" with Lily, and I think it needs some clarification. Yes, Severus is obsessive, and he’s terribly immature at times, and he overreacts enormously when confronted with something that really triggers him (just look at how quickly he loses his temper with Sirius, for instance). This is obviously because he’s someone who never had the opportunity to grow up normally or develop cognitively as he should have, because his whole life was marked by violence. His home life was violent, and at school, he endured violence, and then at 20 years old, he handed his soul over to Dumbledore’s cause and had to work for nearly two decades at a school that was the epicentre of many of his traumas. He literally had neither the spaces nor the environments needed to heal and grow into a functional adult, and you can clearly see this in his behaviour. I’ve always said Severus is more of a diva than the cold, mysterious character people often make him out to be in fanon. To me, he’s someone who, on a personal level, hasn’t been able to grow emotionally in a healthy way and doesn’t know how to manage certain situations, especially those tied to his emotional issues. That said, I also don’t think he was romantically and/or sexually obsessed with Lily. I do think he loved her or was infatuated with her in his youth—first love, crush, whatever. But I don’t believe his need to avenge her death was due to romantic or obsessive love. I think it’s more about his obsession with repaying his debt to her. Severus always felt partially responsible for Lily’s death, and that’s where his obsession lies: it’s not that he’s obsessed with her, per se, but with the fact that he feels guilty for what happened. He feels, in some way, responsible for the death of the one person who showed him kindness, affection, and care during his childhood, which made her the most important person in his life at one point. And guilt often leads to obsession, much like grief that is not properly processed, and I don’t think that kind of obsession is creepy. I think it’s a very human kind of obsession.

Lastly, I don’t find Severus creepy at all. Why is he creepy? I mean, Harry was running around with his invisibility cloak, spying on everyone. The Marauders had A BLOODY MAP that allowed them to track everyone at Hogwarts 24/7 like some kind of magical GPS. Is Severus really the creepy one here? There are literally Animagi who turn into animals to spy on people—I have to laugh at the whole creepy argument.

That being said, if you’re going to come into my DMs to complain about Severus, at least bring some convincing arguments because it’s a bit tiresome hearing the same nonsense over and over again.