#it doesn’t even have to do with how bad things are right now

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[guzmawife]

🍓: he had no job when i met him but now he works at a high school as an errand boy / security (his children attend said school). hes the guy they call in when a real teacher needs to use the bathroom so he can watch the class. or to retrieve some papers from the printer. go get me that thing boy.

🍒: probably just chilling at home with snacks and movies and fast food. or chillen at the beach. 🏝️

🍎: tapu cocoa.. we all know dis.. hot sweet drinks…

🍉: hes not religious other than believing that a higher power exists. hi arceus..

🍑: totally more comfortable giving gifts. hes used to taking care of others so it’s pretty natural for him to be giving. he has no issue receiving but its not rlly a priority since he didnt come from much so hes used to not rlly asking for much.

🍊: i make him peel it. he knows my paws and claws have to stay clean… he’s comfortable with getting dirty and i am not!

🥭: no i domt think so. his dad was a prick and said shit like. Youre not a woman so you dont need those. fuckkkk that guy.

🍍: probably him being mentally manipulated and abused! 😿 killing all the people that taught him he wasn’t anything and made him feel like he had to act out in order to prove himself to others. hhhggffg. he deserves to be loved.

🍌: he likes to be in the dark. das it. no specific reason why.

🍋: he would probably change his hothead nature bc he doesn’t like how quickly he gets upset and makes bad decisions. and his hairline.

🍋‍🟩: he tells people if you squish bugs more will keep showing up. as a joke. heehe. sorry im gonna squish them still im a pussy.. thats probably why they keep showing up though. i have an actual curse. maybe he’s right man…

🍈: he thinks fate is bogus and if you want something to happen you have to make it happen.

🍏: hes bisexual and questioning demisexuality, he learned of his bisexuality through being in denial of liking the same sex and being like. This is ruining my tough guy personality. This can’t be. but then it kept happening and he was like man fuck this whatever. what the hell sure. he became normal. he’s still figuring out the demisexuality, to put it simply he just doesnt want to engage in sexual acts with anyone unless he has a genuine connection to them. it also just feels better for him. sorry for airing out your business Anywayyyyyy. Anyway.

🍐: he’s a nail biter its kinda gross sorry man. his nails are short always so i make him do short nail tasks since my nails are usually pretty long. i think he bounces his legs sometimes too. he knows i hate that shit thou so he tries not to. usually i just leave so he can shake all he wants. then hes like what wait no….

🥝: he would totally let me do his makeup. we’re both pretty lazy when it comes to makeup so we don’t so anything complex. i just do mascara and corner highlights and SOMETIMES lipstick and that’s it. #autistic i cant stand having too much shit ok my face. this isn’t even about me brah. he does simple makeup too since he’s just not super experienced. he just tries things sometimes but he’s not a professional. he just wants to look cool.

🫒: he’s a big hugger he squeezes too tight but it feels good though…. (´ ω `♡) he likes to be hugged too! yey!

🫐: definitely more of an artist he actually keeps a sketchbook. right brained yeah.

🍇: if we never met i think he might still be getting himself into some trouble tbh. he’s pretty stubborn.

🥥: he draws he plays games. he works out. he cooks. i think he would want to get into gardening but his location doesn’t allow for it since it’s always fucking raining.

🍅: i think he would get me testosterone or something that i can’t possibly get safely right now. or like. my own living space. or some rare pokemon card / plush that costs more than an organ online. sigh. or probably 1 billion dollars. muhehw.

🌶️: he drinks ginger ale. ginger ale the ultra cure.

🫚: hes not picky. he cant eat beans bc hes allergic to them. but i dont think hes picky since he has to make sure his kids eat first. so he eats whatevers left from them. leftover amalgamation.

🥕: he didnt like them but he ate them anyway bc his parents were mean :(

🧅: he cries when hes angry like super fuming. and when hes thinking about his past. hes just mad at himself for what happened and how he handled things. Basically. getting manipulated and taken advantage of makes him upset and he cries. he doesnt cry at movies unless he relates to them.

🌽: does bugs counts as animal. He likes dogs. and isopods. and other sea creatures.

🥦: pet peeves are getting called ‘boy’ or ‘kid’. i used to call him boy all the time just by habit and he would Not like that. “I’m not a boy. I’m a man. stop callin me dat…” okaaayyy whatevar. he doesnt have an issue with me calling him dude tho. despite being his lover. which is a little funny. um what else. people not knocking before entering. leaving empty cartons and stuff in the fridge or cabinet. ppl telling him he looks tired. or people calling him old. not that he has an issue with old people (😽) but its like. How did you even reach that conclusion.

🥒: hes afraid of ultra beasts a little.. specifically uh whats its name. nihilego. that bird that i hate. middle finger emoji. hes like. a little more hesitant with UBs than regular mons. he’s also got a fear of getting lost.

🥬: beige flags auumm i hate his ugly fucking sunglasses. and when he says. ya boy (pinches the space between my brows). peeing with the door open. he does that thing where u can feel him looking at you waiting to turn around during the movie so he can kiss you. theres probably more. im very good at complaining.

🫛: he loves to think of new pet names for me to see how i will react. he’d be like. “goodnight honeypie” and id be like “oh…. yeah… 😽” he also likes them too but most of the time i just call him musham or guzma bc i like saying his name. then he’s like. Why dont you call me anything else…. (sad puppy eyes). he likes when i call him mumu or honey. i calll him princess sometimes but its rare. princess is like his top pet name for me. meeooww. sometimes i call him Boss. thats For when. Im teasing Him. That one Makes his Ears turn Red. For special Occasions. meow.

🫑: he’s had a number of near death experiences so he’s pretty afraid of death. he has no lofty life goals. he just wants his family safe. wants to travel too and have good genuine relationships.

🥑: not super niche but cosmetics and nail art. he also likes cooking and insects and drawing. just things he grew to like from being around his family. or trying to distract himself from his own issues.

🍠: he likes to go to the beach and sit listening to the waves (same). he also likes to paint his or others nails when he’s bored. “gimme yer hands i wanna try sumn”. yknow.

🍆: favorite scent is meeeeeee… i kid i kid. probably like. Ugh. baked goods. Sugar smell. Rain smell 👎🏾 i hate rain smell but he likes it. i don’t think he has any specific least favorite smells other than the usual like peepee and caca yknow.

🧄: allergic to beans

🥔: he makes japanese curry a lot. easy to make in large portions for his 75million children. i like rice so he usually makes rice dishes for me. i don’t cook very often but when i do its cultural foods since he doesn’t know those recipes. he likes those. yom. he wants to learn baking but just hasn’t had the chance or motivation.

🍄‍🟫: i think he would wanna be a mewtwo or something. super strong and cool nonchalant. if we’re talking irl mytho creatures, cerberus. that guy cool as shit. #swagger.

this took me three whole days to answer. enjoyable experience rlly made me think. sorry for any typos i used swipe typing for parts of this 😿.

@sylvie-wants-your-dogs hi : )

the ULTIMATE f/o infodumping ask game!

(this is gonna be a long one...)

🍓 - disregarding the career your f/o currently has, what other career would they consider going into, if given the chance?

🍒 - if your f/o and you spend a day doing anything, anything at all, what would they do and why?

🍎 - what's your f/o's favorite drink? any drink, alcoholic or non alcoholic!

🍉 - is your f/o religious? what's their opinion on religion or spirituality?

🍑 - is your f/o more comfortable giving or receiving gifts? why? do they have any preferences on gifts they like receiving?

🍊 - if you asked your f/o to peel an orange for you, what would they do?

🥭 - did your f/o have stuffed animals growing up? do they still have stuffed animals? do they have a favorite?

🍍 - if you could change any one thing about your f/os backstory/character, what would you change? why?

🍌 - does your f/o have a vendetta against The Big Light™? what kind of lighting do they prefer?

🍋 - if your f/o could change one thing about themselves, what would they change and why?

🍋‍🟩 - is your f/o superstitious? is there any habits they follow or quirks they have to follow said superstitions? like not opening umbrellas indoors to avoid back luck?

🍈 - does your f/o believe in fate? do they thing everything is preplanned out by the universe or a higher power, or do they think that the idea of fate is bogus? why?

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer?

🍐 - does your f/o have any nervous ticks or idle quirks they do? like mindlessly tapping on a desk or fiddling with their hair when they're stressed?

🥝 - would your f/o ever let you do their make-up? what does their make-up process look like? is it simple? complex?

🫒 - what kind of hugger is your f/o? do they give good hugs? do they like hugs? do they like receiving hugs?

🫐 - is your f/o more of a writer or an artist? would you say your f/o is more left or right brained?

🍇 - if you and your f/o never met, what do you think your f/o would be doing right now?

🥥 - what hobbies does your f/o have? is there any hobby they would like to get into that they haven't tried out yet? what is it?

🍅 - if your f/o could buy you any gift in the world, whether it exists or not, what would they buy you? or, if they could make you something, what would it be?

🌶️ - does your f/o have any remedies they follow when they get sick? like taking a shot of whiskey to get rid of a fever?

🫚 - is your f/o a picky eater? is there any foods they will not under any circumstances, gun to their head, eat?

🥕 - when your f/o was little, did they dislike vegetables? do they still dislike them?

🧅 - what makes your f/o cry? do they get emotional at sad movies or books? do they only get emotional under very rare circumstances?

🌽 - does your f/o have a favorite animal? what is it? are they scared of any animals?

🥦 - does your f/o have any pet peeves? things that just really really get on their nerves? what are they and why?

🥒 - what's your f/o afraid of? do they have any phobias? anything minor they're scared of?

🥬 - what are some beige flags your f/o has? so, not bad, but not nessecarily good either. just. "oh. you do This."

🫛 - how does your f/o feel about pet names or nicknames? do they like them? hate them? what are their favorites and least favorites to be called and to use?

🫑 - how does your f/o feel about death? are they afraid of it? is there anything specific they'd like to do before they die?

🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them?

🍠 - what are a few of your f/os favorite pastimes or things that they do when they're bored?

🍆 - does your f/o have a favorite scent? why is it their favorite? do they have a least favorite scent?

🧄 - does your f/o have any allergies? food or otherwise?

🥔 - does your f/o have any food dishes they make often? is there any foods you make for your f/o that they enjoy?

🍄‍🟫 - if your f/o could be any mythological species, what would they be? if your f/o is already a mythological species, would they ever want to be human?

I recommend practicing reblog karma ! people love infodumping about their f/os :) I also recommend sending more than one emoji at a time,,, there are Many here...!!!

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was curious what your take on the Amphoreus men’s reactions would be to a sick or even injured reader? I had bad nausea and a migraine today, bedridden and all, (but I’m better now!) and I fear if I was their darling they’d think I’m pregnant or something dumb like that 😂

Wishing you a lovely day! Thank you for sharing your writings ❤️

I'm sick atm so Imma answer this. Glad to hear u got better.

When you're sick

🌿 Anaxa

At first, he's simply observing. He doesn't react strongly, but his mind is already working to figure out what’s wrong.

(Watching you struggle to sit up, his eyes gleaming with amusement at first.)

Anaxa: “How fascinating. Your skin is warmer than usual, your pupils slightly dilated… Could it be a poison? Did someone poison you? Or perhaps a parasite? I do wonder.”

Anaxa is unsettlingly calm as he begins testing different treatments on you (you poor thing). You say it’s just a cold? He doesn’t believe you.

(You groan, insisting it’s just a cold. He hums, unconvinced, swirling a dark liquid in a glass.)

Anaxa: “Drink this. It may cure you, or at the very least, give me something new to analyze.”

(He scares you, but he only wants the best for you. Such hypocrite.)

Pregnancy thought? Unlikely. He’s too logical for that, he's looking for tangible symptoms. However, if he does think it, it’s because he wants to study the changes in your body up close.

(You woke up just to see his hand already inspecting your stomach.)

Anaxa: “We managed to put a baby in here huh. Don't you move, I'll take very good care of you.”

(You pushed him away soon after and refused to drink or eat anything from him.)

🐶 Phainon

His smile starts to fade when he heard the news. You have a minor fever?

(He barges into the room)

Phainon: “You're going to die? Don't leave me! I can't bear the thought of living all alone...”

(Lays you in bed dramatically like you’re on your deathbed.)

If you say it’s just a cold, he’ll be offended and insist that you need “proper royal treatment.”

(He tucked you in so tight you can't even move.)

Phainon: “I always know that you're not as strong as me, but I didn't expect you to be sick. I will feed you, every day, don't worry.”

Pregnancy thought? that’s not possible… unless…

(You tell him to calm down, but he ignores you, crouching beside your bed with a look of pure anguish.)

Phainon: “What if it’s something deadly? What if *gasp you’re with child?!? Whose? Mine?”

(You choke on your own saliva at his ridiculous assumption.)

Phainon: “Stay right here, I’ll summon someone immediately!”

(He rushes out before you can protest. You are doomed.)

🦁Mydei

At first, he just watches you suspiciously. When he realizes it’s real, he softens… a little.

He doesn’t fuss, but he becomes overbearing in a quiet way. He forces you to rest, doesn’t let you lift a single finger.

(Arms crossed, standing near the door, eyes narrowed as he watches you weakly sip your drink.)

Mydei: “If you’re too weak to hold a cup properly, you shouldn’t be holding it at all.”

(You glare at him, muttering that you can take care of yourself.)

Mydei: “Clearly.” (Sarcastic. He takes the cup from your hands and forces you to lie down.) “Rest.”

If you get worse, he just picks you up and hauls you off to a doctor, no questions asked.

He’ll be stubbornly glued to your side until you’re better.

Pregnancy thought? The possibility crosses his mind, but he immediately throws it out because he would’ve known if anything like that was possible.

When you're injured

🌿 Anaxa

He is completely unfazed. Even if you’re bleeding out, he will only act calm and professional while getting out his medical tools.

(Kneeling beside you, observing the wound with a calm, almost clinical expression.)

Anaxa: “Hm. A deep cut. The bleeding is slowing, but the damage is substantial.”

You swear he’s a doctor with how efficiently he patches you up—but he makes little effort to comfort you. Rather, he finds it interesting to mess with you.

(You wince as he prods at the wound. He doesn’t even warn you.)

Anaxa: “I expected better. Letting yourself get hurt like this… Have you always been so careless?”

(You glare at him.)

Anaxa: “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is your own fault, after all. Still, if I find out someone else dares hurt you... nevermind.”

🐶Phainon

Trying to hold back his anger, won't let it shows in front of you. You can only see his good side.

(His entire body is tense as he kneels beside you, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turn white.)

Phainon: “Who did this?”

(You try to downplay it, but his eyes still burning with fury.)

Once he’s calmed down, he scoops you up and takes you to the best healer available.

He’s genuinely shaken up by it and might get overly protective afterward. Even minor scrapes will have him wrapping you up in bandages like a mummy.

Phainon: “And once you’re healed, you are never leaving my sight again. I won’t allow it.”

🦁Mydei

He’s surprisingly calm when he sees you’re injured, but it’s the eerie kind of calm. He’s not saying much, but the rage is there.

He doesn’t panic, he assesses your wound like a warrior, checking the severity before deciding what to do.

(He crouches beside you, examining the wound with an eerily quiet intensity.)

Mydei: “You’re bleeding.”

(You bite back a sarcastic remark. He rips off a piece of his sleeve, pressing it against the wound with firm but careful hands.)

Mydei: “Does it hurt?”

(You hesitate. He looks at you, his sharp gaze unyielding.)

Mydei: “Good. Remember it.”

Two priorities:

Getting you treated.

Finding whoever did this and destroying them.

No more fights. No more risks. You are staying where he can see you.

(He finishes bandaging the wound, then stands, offering you his hand.)

Mydei: “Come. You’re not walking alone.”

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - bad intentions

warnings ; nsfw (18+!!!!!!), unprotected sex

prompt ; in which a TikTok edit sparks a desire to get absolutely destroyed by your boyfriend.

note ; hey… heyyyy *opens door* um idk what this is but I’m back with a new fandom and this random piece of writing. this is my formal request to join the bts fandom pls xoxo i promise im fun and can write hellish smut

It’s cruel that you live with someone as attractive as your boyfriend.

It’s even more evil that the world posts TikTok edits of your boyfriend to seductive songs that make your underwear soak through with arousal.

All that to say, you’re not really making your life any easier by watching every single one that stumbles across your For You Page.

You have been better. It was a slow Sunday: one where your boyfriend sits perched on your shared living room couch, mindlessly playing with his lip ring as he watches some Netflix show. It’s nice having him like this, all for you, in a space you two built for yourselves. But you, you’re in the bedroom, aimlessly scrolling through an app that has taken up more than enough of your time and perfectly curated content about your boyfriend and this silly little band he’s in.

But it’s when, and only when, you stumble across an edit of your boyfriend to a The Weeknd song, that you shoot up in your bed, blink rapidly, inhale a sharp breath. Your heart catches in your throat, does that stupid little flutter thing. And then.. the clench that follows down below. You replay it once, twice… a third time.

Don’t be weird. Do not be thirsty.

But, he is yours. That much, you do know.

You close the app, delete the page off your phone. It’s not like you two have a boring sex life, he takes care of you and you never feel dissatisfied. In fact it’s rather the opposite. This one time being two nights ago when he had your legs up on… never mind. You look at your black phone screen in disgust. Do not be a horny little freak.

Well, one last look at the edit won’t hurt.

You go back to the fan edit. Glance at it, slap your hand over your face, peek through your middle and ring finger. Fuck.

The arousal that had pooled before in your underwear was now a full-on ocean. Really, you should have more decorum than this. You don’t really want to bother Jungkook, he’s had a busy week with the boys… but it also has been two days since you two have had sex.

Fuck it.

You swing your legs off the bed, shuffle down the hallway of your apartment. You spot your boyfriend lounging on the couch, his back to you. Even from where you stand, you can see his build, his biceps.. Gosh. You sound like a hormonal teenage girl.

You creep up behind him, wrap your arms around his neck and press a few sloppy kisses down it. His hand flies up to caress your arm that’s hung around his neck, a little laugh leaving his mouth, “Well, hello to you too.”

You decide then and there in that moment: You’re going to die if you don’t have him. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but you’ve lost all strength.

“Hi,” your voice is frail, weak even, as you kiss along his jaw. He sucks in a deep breaths, fingers drawing circles on your arm. His eyes are glued to the television screen like if he looks anywhere else, he might combust.

You detach your arms from around him, moving to the front, blocking his perfect view of the screen. He looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so damn much. One look at you and he gathers quickly there will be no more watching of television.

With little words, you straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs. Jungkook feels up your thighs, smirks a little, “What did I do to earn this right now?”

You are well aware of how needy and desperate you look right now, but that doesn’t matter. You let out a little sigh, pushing your lips onto his. For some reason, you feel like some little fangirl who is hooking up with her celebrity crush. The cold metal from his lip ring is a welcomed feeling, and you place your hands on his neck, feeling the structure and heat of his skin. God, you are going to cum just from this kiss if you keep it up.

Pulling away a little, you look into his eyes, “Nothing specifically… I just…”

You sigh, go back in to kissing him again. Those plump pink lips of his work against yours, shivers running down your spine as he runs his hands up and down your bare thighs. “Just what, baby?” He speaks in a low tone in between the incessant kissing.

“I’m so fucking horny,” You admit.

Upon the minute those words leave his mouth, you feel his cock begin to press against your inner thigh. You’ve got him right where you want him. And it’s not that this isn’t normal; it is. But you’ve essentially offered yourself up to him on a silver platter and the act of desperation you got going on right now is really doing it for him.

“Hmm?” He hums against your lips, his hands roaming underneath your shirt to trace your spine. And you could marry him right now for being so quick to go along with it. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.

You start to grind yourself down on him, the wetness soaking through your pajama shorts you have on. It is criminal how much you need this man inside of you, now. “What do you need from me, baby?” He starts to kiss down your neck as light whimpers exit your throat from the friction of your shorts on his grey sweatpants.

“N-nothing,” You exhale out. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck.” He groans out.

“You need me that bad?” He brushes a strand of hair off your shoulder, kisses down your supple skin.

“Yes, please,” Your voice cracks. You can’t take it anymore; you think you might combust into a million little pieces.

“Well, go on, my love,” He removes his lips from your skin, smirks, sits back against the couch. “Have me.”

He does not need to tell you twice. There’s no time for pleasantries. You move your legs off his, lower down his sweatpants enough for you to be able to access his boxers. You kick off your shorts, leaving the underwear on; there’s not a single shred of a fuck left in you.

Jungkook is sat there, an amused look plastered on his face, mixed with a level of adoration you are not sure you have seen before. His arms have moved, now splayed out across the top of the couch, his biceps flexing. You straddle him again, remove his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers. Fuck, if you weren’t so ready for him, you would’ve taken him into your mouth.. but alas, no time to waste.

You push your panties to the side, rub your juices over his length. He lets out a little moan at that, watches you eagerly get ready to take him whole.

With a gasp, you align him to your entrance in search of relief. You engulf him, take him in inch by inch until you bottom out. Honestly, you could unravel just from that. “Holy fuck, baby,” His head falls back, eyes still glued to the sight of you fully taking him to the brim.

You never really do get used to how big he is; when you two first started dating, he stretched you out so wide you were certain you would never recover. Your bottom lip is sucked in between your top teeth, rushed exhales leaving your body as you slowly begin to move, begin to gyrate your hips and lift yourself up and down on his pulsing cock. “Oh my god,” You breathe out, hands moving to his broad chest, gripping onto him to steady yourself

He’s not doing much, besides just watching you in complete and utter awe, and yet that still takes your breath away. “You look so unbelievably sexy right now,” He says, barely even realizing the words leave his mouth, since they were mostly meant for his inner thoughts. His hands come around to land on your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into the bone. There will definitely be a bruise there tomorrow.

You lull your head back, close your eyes tight. It’s all you can do to try and keep yourself together. You’re an absolute mess right now; pussy squelching with each stroke, his cock a mix of yours and his arousal. The only sounds that can be heard in the apartment are the slapping of skin and the moans that continually leave both of your mouths. “[Y/N]…” He moans out. You look at him, deep in those eyes that you love so much.

And there’s such… desire on his face, his pupils blown wide, his jaw slack. He is so undeniably hungry for you, and it’s going to kill you. You speed up your bounces, losing a little more control with each and every passing moment. Your arms snake around his neck, pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, I am so close,” You whisper out, mostly to calm yourself down.

“Yeah?” Is the only word he can muster right now. “Need you to cum for me. Want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

It is all so filthy; the sounds, the look he’s giving you, the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his neck and leaving marks. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, gaze dropping down to his lips. You press a few sloppy kisses on them.

“You like this, hmm?” he asks, fingers digging even deeper into your hip bones that you’re certain he is leaving an imprint on your skull. “Having me like this ready for you? Does that get you off?”

His words elicit a clench around his cock, your walls tightening around him. He is absolutely correct. He knows he’s hit the mark. “Talk to me.” His tone is soft but threatening.

“Y-yes, it does. Oh my god, Kook..” You can barely think, any singular thought beside how incredible his cock feels inside you, how you can feel him penetrate your stomach with his entire length. “I’m gonna cum.”

It’s so close, it’s teetering on the edge. Every nerve ending in your body craves him to a point where you wonder if you need to be institutionalized. All you can see is that stupid edit made by that fan flash across your head, your brain unable to comprehend that that is the man you currently have inside of you. “Cum for me, darling..” He coos.

It nearly wrecks you, this orgasm. It washes over your entire being and you’re so loud you’re certain your neighbors will come knocking down your door. Your bounces go from focused to frantic, hips gyrating wildly, and he wraps an arm around your entire waist, picking you up lightly. He begins thrusting into you at a shallow, quick pace, chasing after his own release. Jungkook lets out a few grunts, eyes trained on the sight in front of him; and then he shudders, his cock throbs inside of you, head falling onto your shoulder as he feels himself empty out inside of you. You’re struggling to catch your breath, gripping onto the hair at the nape of his neck.

“My god..” You breathe out. You’re still sitting on him, cock warm inside you as he lifts his head from your shoulder, meets your fucked-out face.

“Baby, that was so incredibly hot, you have no idea,” His face is flushed, hand reaching up to caress your cheek. You entwine your arms and legs around him, holding him close, drawing him deeper into you. You stay there, hearts pounding in unison, as if they're each trying to break free from your chests, desperate to draw nearer. And still, even in this perfect closeness, you long to feel him even closer.

“Mhmm,” You hum out, quite content with yourself. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“So… care to share what made you jump my bones?” He teases, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Oh, nothing…” You act coy, but the heat creeps onto your face regardless. He pokes your side, eliciting a giggle from you that has you folding like origami.

“Maybe… just saw a little something on TikTok..” You trace circles on his collarbone, avoiding his gaze.

“Continue.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Some girl made an edit of you..” It’s low when it leaves your mouth, he can barely hear it. “Just wanted to remind myself I can have you.. whenever I like.”

You bury your face into his neck in sheer embarrassment, feeling his warmth and the vibration as he chuckles. “You can have me whenever. I’m yours, baby.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[fanbasetwo]

Ꮺ . , THROUGH UPS & DOWNS , L.CY !

PAIRING: bf ! anton × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: you always managed to pull yourself up out of breakdowns or sadder parts of life but you never once imagined someone creating a fuss to take care of you through your downs. [REQUESTED] . . . . . . GENRE: #comfort core, fic. WORD COUNT: 1k [LIBRARY]

You and Anton have been together for years, long enough to trust him with everything—well, almost everything. Moving in together felt right at the time, but lately, you’ve been questioning whether that was a mistake. Some days are good, some are bad, but the worst ones? The ones like today? Those are the hardest because you don’t even have the energy to pretend you’re okay.

Maybe it’s the fact that no matter how many job applications you send, no one seems to want you. Maybe it’s that sinking feeling that you’re not just struggling—you’re a burden. No, scratch that. You are a burden. Full stop.

Still, you push yourself to keep going. Just one foot in front of the other. You grip the door handle, take a shaky breath, and step inside.

Anton is there, standing in the middle of the living room like he’s been waiting for you. His face lights up when he sees you, but that stupidly proud smile of his only makes everything worse. How the hell can he still look at you like that when you’re contributing nothing?

“Hey…” His voice is soft, but his brows pinch together in concern. “You look—uh, kind of out of it. You okay?”

And that’s it. That’s the last fucking straw.

Your bag slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud as you practically throw yourself at him. Your arms wrap around his torso, your face burying into his chest as the sobs hit you full force. Ugly, shaking, can’t-breathe kind of crying.

Anton doesn’t even flinch. No awkward hesitation, no stiff pat on the back like he’s comforting a coworker or some shit. His arms immediately close around you, holding you tight like he’s physically trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Hey, hey… Shh, I got you,” he soothes, rubbing slow circles into your back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But all you can focus on is how your breathing is coming in short, shaky bursts, how your fingers are gripping his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

What fcks you up the most, though? The fact that he doesn’t care. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes your chest ache. You’re standing here, falling apart—messy, broken, so not okay—and yet, he’s holding you like you’re still worth something. Like he’d do this a thousand times over if it meant you didn’t have to go through it alone.

And maybe… just maybe… that’s enough for now.

“C’mere, let’s sit and talk, yeah? Nothing’s wrong, especially when I’m here.”

Anton doesn’t wait for you to agree—he just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, and you cling to him like a damn koala, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. He settles onto the couch, pulling you onto his lap, but before you can bury yourself back into his chest, he gently tilts your face up, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Not that it does much, since they just keep coming.

You sniffle, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t find a job… And I don’t want to stay financially dependent on you. I don’t want to be a burden. Everybody’s so mean. Jiah won’t even talk to me anymore because she thinks it’s embarrassing to be seen with me.” Your voice cracks, but you force the words out anyway. “Are you… Are you embarrassed of me too?”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his hands steady on your waist, his eyes soft but serious. And then, instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you. Slow, deep, like he’s trying to get you to shut up in the most effective way possible. His lips move against yours in a way that makes your heart stumble in your chest, and when he finally pulls back, you’re breathless and blinking at him like an idiot.

Anton smirks a little, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “First of all,” he starts, his voice firm but warm, “just because you aren’t getting a job right now doesn’t mean you’re dumb. It just means there aren’t enough of them. That’s not your fault. Second, you are not a burden to me. But since I know how much this is bothering you, why don’t you look for something temporary? Editing, content writing—there are tons of online jobs that could work until you figure out what you really want to do.”

He pauses, letting that sink in before he continues. “And Jiah? That’s her problem, not yours. She should be embarrassed of herself for acting like that. I’m just proud that my baby spoke up about it.”

It’s a lot. A mix of advice, comfort, and pure tonie logic, but somehow, it actually helps. You feel… lighter. Like maybe the weight on your chest isn’t crushing you as much.

And just when you think you couldn’t feel more relieved, he adds, “Besides, I’m gonna marry you anyway, whether you’re ‘successful’ or not, no matter what other people think.”

You blink at him. “Wait, what?”

Anton just grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head like he didn’t just casually say something that could actually give you a mini heart attack. “You heard me.”

Your heart is a mess—pounding, fluttering, tripping over itself—but his hands are steady as he cups your face, wiping away the lingering tears with his thumbs. His touch is so gentle, it makes your chest ache in a different way.

“Does it feel better now?” he murmurs. “Now you know… sharing is way better than keeping it all bottled up?”

You sigh, letting your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quiet but honest. “I think… I think I’ll share every time I feel sad from now on.”

Anton hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You better,” he mutters. “Because I’ll always be here for my pretty girl.”

He tightens his arms around you, rocking you gently like it’s the easiest thing in the world to hold you together when you feel like falling apart. And for the first time in a while, you actually believe it.

join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

SENA’S NOTE : this is the second and third idea mixed together and might not have been a perfect execution of the request.. but I believe it's still better than posting nothing.. so thank you for requesting. ;0;

© 2025 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[gold-onthe-inside]

debriefing

v. def. the systematic questioning of individuals to procure information to answer specific collection requirements by direct and indirect questioning techniques.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: the one where you finally confront the thing between you and spencer content warnings: none word count: 2.5k

You couldn’t sleep, restlessly turning in bed as flashes of Spencer torment you - vaguely remembering his hand on your ankle as he slid your heels off, kneeling in front of you with his hands grasping yours, his firm grip on your arm, his hand on your lower back, guiding you downstairs. “The team knows that my priority is you.”

You feel like a teenager trying to decipher whether a boy likes you. More importantly, you have to go back to work in 5 hours, and if he doesn’t like you the way you think he does, then there’s no point losing sleep over it. A wave of frustration washes over you, stuffing a pillow in your face as if that could remove the imprint Spencer’s made on your brain.

The pillow falls to the side, leaving you staring at the ceiling with a desire to kill or kiss Spencer, and since neither of those were options to you, you did the next best thing. You knocked on the partition between Penelope’s room and the living room. She had dragged you through Lord knew how many thrift stores and flea markets to put together this magical room that was a cross between Turkish royalty and California in the 60s. The woman, your best friend, bless her heart, woke up with a slight grumble, pushing the unicorn kitty eye mask up (apparently it reduced dark circles, and seeing as she didn’t have any while you were left to suffer, it must work) to attend to your distress.

“Honey, it’s 2 in the morning, can we talk about this in daylight?” Penelope asked, her saccharine voice a soft rumble in her sleep.

“It’s about Reid,” you said, hearing how pathetic you sounded, standing on the step to the raised platform that led to her bedroom. But it seemed to perk her up, and she got up faster than you’ve ever seen her wake in the 10 years you’ve known her.

“I’ll put on a pot of tea,” she announced, moving to the kitchen.

“I-I don’t need tea,” you said uselessly to the whirlwind you called your roommate, trudging across the floor to the kitchen.

“Do you even remember the last time you came to me with boy problems?” Penelope asked you, grabbing her teapot and dropping bags of masala chai in it before setting it to boil on the stove while you parse through your memory, coming up empty. “That’s right. Never. Not once in the entire history of our friendship have you ever come to me about a boy,” Penelope continued and you sink into a seat on the bar stool.

“Because there’s never been anyone worth talking about,” you replied, rubbing your face. “God, how did I let this happen?”

“Let what happen?” Penelope asked, sitting next to you.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I don’t lose sleep over guys, and it’s like Spencer just… snuck up on me and now he just lives in my brain or something.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes, it’s horrible and embarrassing and—”

“You really like him,” Penelope finished for you, watching your hands fall to the kitchen island.

“I really like him,” you admitted, letting out a disgruntled sigh as you dropped your head into your hands.

“Sweetie, it’s okay,” Penelope assured you, trying not to laugh as she rubbed your back. “And for what it’s worth, he’s a really good guy. A little nuts, but a really good guy.”

“He’s not nuts,” you muttered and Penelope really wants to laugh. The idea of you defending a boy from Penelope’s words was such a far stretch from who you were as a person…

“He also really likes you,” Penelope told you, tilting her head to try and find your eyes. “Seriously, he was hounding me the other day asking if you were into that Jack Ryan-esque new guy or not.”

“He was hounding you?” you asked, looking up with a skeptical brow.

“As in took up residence in my office until I gave it up,” Penelope clarified and you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck as the teapot whistled. You watched as Penelope poured you a cup of tea with a little milk, just the way you like it.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, taking the cup and slowly spinning it as you waited for it to cool. “I don’t want to have to avoid him forever. Or put you in a weird position with me and him.”

“What if it does work out and you fall in love and have adorable genius babies?” Penelope countered, making you furrow your brow.

“That sounds so much scarier,” you muttered and she sighed.

“Look, sweetie, as much as it pains me to admit it, he makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you,” Penelope told you. “Seriously, I have video footage.”

“Delete it,” you tell her immediately, putting on your most serious face, but after 10 years, she’s grown immune.

“You’ll never find it,” she sings, sipping her tea. You suck your cheek in, staring at your tea.

“So… what, I just… tell him?” you asked and you looked so clueless that Penelope had to giggle just a little. “Don’t laugh.”

“I swear to God, you two are so meant for each other, it’s written in the stars,” Penelope said, laughing. “Yes, baby doll, you tell him. Because Lord knows he’s not gonna tell you. He’s been dancing around his feelings so long, he could be Kevin Bacon in Footloose.”

“But I don’t want to,” you protested childishly. “Can’t I just ignore it?”

“Not if you want to sleep at night,” Penelope said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear and you pursed your lips.

“I hate this.”

“Yeah, that’s what being in love is,” she replied. “Welcome, it sucks.” You hummed, disgruntled, and sipped your tea.

You’re close to clocking out for the day when Penelope’s heels clack against linoleum, rapidly approaching your cubicle. “The time is now,” she hissed and you frowned immediately, pressing the back of your hand to her temple.

“Are you okay?” you asked and Penelope shook her head.

“Morgan’s setting Reid up on a double date, I couldn’t talk him out of it,” Penelope said rapidly.

“Wait, what?” you asked and Penelope growled in frustration, pulling you out of your desk and towards the elevators.

“You remember the blonde girl who worked with us last year, her father was a serial killer, she transferred to Swann’s unit? Ashley?”

“Yeah,” you said hesitantly. You’d helped Penelope bake cupcakes for Ashley’s graduation from the Academy — and swatted Kevin when he tried to swipe more than he was given.

“Yeah, well, Morgan’s got a date to this Hitchcock Festival, and he wanted to make it a double date—”

“Why? Double dates suck,” you interrupted, completely missing the point and Penelope shook your shoulder.

“Do you hear the words coming out of my mouth? Spencer is going on a date and it’s not with you.”

Passers-by look at the two of you strangely before walking off and you pressed the button to the lift in an attempt to look normal.

“So what?” you asked half-heartedly. “I’m sure Ashley’s a great person.”

Penelope looked like she wanted to pry open the lift doors and throw you down the shaft. “Her father is the Redmond Ripper, is that what you want for Spencer? For his future father-in-law to be a serial killer?” she demanded, the last few words coming out as a hiss and your lips part. Words, you remind yourself.

“It wouldn’t go that far,” you said, sounding weak even to yourself as you both step inside the lift.

“You don’t know that,” Penelope retorted. “Maybe they go on one date, maybe two. Next thing you know, he’s asking Charles Beauchamp for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You’ve just been following Penelope’s lead, and it doesn’t strike you that you’re headed to the BAU until the lift opens again and you’re standing face to face with half the team. Spencer’s brow furrowed as he recognised you, JJ glancing at Penelope curiously and Derek grinning at the both of you.

“Hey, what are you doing up here?” Derek asked, with a lot more charm and casualness than Spencer could have mustered.

There’s a shove from behind you, Penelope pushing you out as she chirped. “She wants to talk to you,” she said, ambivalent to your horrified expression as she pointed at Spencer.

“Me?” he asked, meek and slightly alarmed, going through every interaction of the past 7 years to check if he’d done something wrong. Derek and JJ shared a glance, with every intention to stay and listen, until Penelope pulled them both inside the lift.

“Bye!” she chirped, immune to your glare, waving as the lift closed. You stared at the lift, your escape route disappearing before your eyes, Spencer’s glued to you. His fingers drummed on the belt of his satchel, lips pursed in anticipation, heart hammering in his chest as you take a breath and look at him. Of course he had to wear purple today.

“Um… Penelope said you were going on a date,” you started slowly, hands sliding into your pockets despite your sweaty palms.

“Yeah, Morgan kind of roped me into it,” Spencer said, his expression turning pained. “We had this practical joke war and the truce agreement means I have to go on a double date with him. It’s a… whole thing, what did you want to talk about?”

You sucked your cheek in, a telltale sign that something was making you anxious. “So… you don’t want to go on the date?” you asked, tentative and Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Not… enthusiastically, but Seaver’s- I mean, Ashley’s nice, so…”

“But you don’t like her,” you reasoned slowly, gauging his responses so analytically that you could have your own desk here.

“I don’t not like her?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling more and more as the conversation went on.

“Right,” you said quietly, having run out of questions. “Cool, so… I’m gonna go. Have fun on your… date?”

He’s never seen you this unsettled, this flustered, especially around him, and cute as it is, it worried him, his hand reaching out to nudge your elbow before you could run off. “Are you okay?” he asked, deeply concerned.

“Yeah, no, Penelope’s just… um…” You closed your eyes, took a breath, and internally went, Fuck it. “If you don’t like her, don’t go,” you said, looking at him again. Bad decision. You really want to kiss him.

“Okay… But I kind of already agreed to go,” Spencer said, shifting where he stood nervously.

“I… I don’t want you to go,” you said, hoping he would extrapolate the meaning, but of course he doesn’t. He just narrows his eyes in confusion.

“You don’t—”

“I’m asking you not to go,” you insisted, your heart in your throat. You might actually cry if he goes anyway. A beat passed, Spencer just looking into your pleading eyes.

“Okay,” he said eventually, moving to press the lift button, and it’s your turn to frown.

“Okay? That’s it? I asked you not to go and you’re not going?”

“Pretty much,” he replied casually, moving to call up the lift. “Besides, Hitchcock movies don’t really have the same appeal after you know who the murderer is. I mean, it’s nice to appreciate the cinematography of the whole thing, but once you know who the killer in Psycho is, there’s only so many times you can rewatch it before it becomes predictable. Now, if it was something like a novel, that’s a different story, because literature can be interpreted so many ways, and Arthur Conan Doyle still appeals after the third or fourth time you read—”

“You’re not going?” you repeated, standing there, completely struck by him and he looked at you, as though puzzled that you were still stuck on it.

“You told me not to,” he said, concerned again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His hand flitted up to press against your temple and you freezed, his hand drifting down to your neck to check your pulse, which fluttered when he touched it.

“Why would you just… I mean, how can you just listen to me like that?” you managed to ask and he dropped his hand, slightly amused.

“You’re impossible, you know that,” he said, the lift opening and he waited for you to get in first, his arm keeping it open. “I mean, I don’t listen to you, you argue with me. I listen to you, and you’re still arguing with me. Is there any way to win with you?”

You ignored the easy avenue into a catfight, still looking at him. “She could be the love of your life and you’re just not gonna go because I—”

“She’s not,” he said, his voice plain and firm. “Will you get in so I don’t have to hold this forever?”

“You don’t know that she’s not,” you continued, frowning at him. “She could be the woman you spend your life with—”

“She’s not,” he said again, just as firmly as before. Fact. Not opinion. Not doubt. He looked at you intently, your throat moving as you swallow, not that there’s anything there with your mouth completely dried out.

She’s not the love of his life.

The team knows that my priority is you.

Whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.

You have people. Even if you can’t see them.

How many times had he told you how he felt without saying it? “I’m such an idiot,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I have no business calling myself an intelligence analyst when you…” He frowned at you as you trailed off, still holding the stupid lift open. Penelope was right. All along, she was right. You crossed the foot between the two of you. “Spencer Reid, will you go out with me?” you asked, your voice calm, finally finding yourself on even footing with him. “Properly, I mean. On a date.” No more cryptic codes to decipher, no more dancing around each other. Everything had been decoded, deciphered, plain to see.

“I…” He blinked at you in surprise. “Really?” he asked, almost in disbelief, then checked down the hall like someone was watching him.

“Not a practical joke, I promise,” you said, your heart settling back in your chest. “We could get a drink, see a movie, I couldn’t care less what we do, I just… Spencer, I like you. A lot. And if you don’t want to, which, I mean, fair enough, your call, but—”

He crosses whatever gap is left between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours and grasping your jaw and your hands emerge from your pockets, holding his waist as he takes your breath away. His fingers threaded into your hair, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and you kissed him back, pulling away only when your lungs ached for air. His eyes are bright and dilated when he looked down at you, lights glittering in his clear gaze. “I want to,” he murmured, a slight rasp. “Very much.”

[smallestapplin]

A kiss for the road

Arthur Morgan x traveling doctor!Reader

Warnings : no TB au, fluff, talks of some minor injuries, playful banter, established relationship.

This was commissioned by @yanban-san !

-

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The outlaw groans as he slowly rides into town, his horse taking a leisurely pace just so their rider doesn’t get jostled too much. Entering a familiar town was just what Arthur needed, he knew the right places to avoid attention. His shoulder aches, the cut on his cheek stopped oozing blood a while back, no doubt you’re going to be upset with him over that.

But you’re better than trying to patch it up at camp by himself.

Arthur told himself he wouldn’t fall, he’s not a good man, you deserve better than an outlaw like him, you deserve someone you could show off, someone you can go shopping with. He tsks at himself, so much for that plan. Snapping from his thoughts once his horse stopped moving, he found himself in front of a familiar little shop.

A traveling doctor, going from small town to small town to help people.

You’re too good for him. His blue eyes linger over your open sign showing him you must still be in your little traveling cart. The cowboy can’t stop the small smile from appearing on his face, knowing you aren’t going to be very pleased with him getting into more trouble, especially after you told him just a week ago to take it easy.

Well, he supposes it has its upsides.

Hopping off his horse, he ties her reins to the post near your open sign before he picks up the sign and flips it to ‘closed’, and just walks right in with no knocking. He spots you on the other side of the cart back turned to the door, fiddling around with tools he doesn’t quite remember the names of.

“Sorry, just one moment please. Terribly sorry about that, how can I-“ you pause mid sentence as your eyes lock onto your favorite cowboy, taking in the bruises over his cheeks, some hidden just beneath his shirt, he looks like a mess.

Arthur grabs his hat, taking it off and placing it over his chest.

“Sorry darlin’, it seems I got a few new wounds. Care to treat me, doc?”

Like his words snapped you from your thoughts as you rushed to him, gently grabbing his arms and moving him to take a seat. Oh Arthur knows he should feel bad about worrying, and he’d hate to admit it, but he finds himself enjoying your fretting, how you rush around grabbing things to clean and patch him up.

“Oh my god, Arthur! How many times do I have to tell you to be careful? Heaven and stars above you’re lucky you haven’t gotten any infections.”

He hisses under his breath, feeling you press antibacterial cleaner to his cheek. But he never takes his eyes off you, taking in your focused expression as you easily patch up his cheek.

You go to scold him more after you’re finished placing the bandage on his cheek, just for him to grab your wrist, carefully pulling you closer until your face is mere inches from his. Your cheeks burn at how close he is, but you can’t help but lean into him. Your hands on his shoulders balancing yourself as your lips finally meet his chapped ones, his hands move placing one on your lower back, and the other on your hip holding you close to him.

you’re surrounded by him, his warmth, his scent, god how you’ve missed him. your mind muddled even as he pulls his lips off yours, resting his forehead to yours.

“Am I forgiven, Doc?”

you blink once, twice, then several more times as you collect yourself, finally moving away from him to properly stand.

“I…suppose, but that depends if you have any more injuries.” You give him a pointed look with your hands on your hips.

“Now, why would you think I got any more wounds?” He feigns ignorance, a playful grin on his face as he watches you narrow your eyes at him in a playful return.

“Cause this is you we are talking about, Mr.Morgan. The second I let you leave this cart, you’ll have a new injury from lord knows where.”

He raises his hands up in mock surrender before he moves around, making sure his bad shoulder was the one facing you, his back now towards you while he places his hat next to him and unbuttoning his shirt, just enough to free his shoulder to show you. You want to scold him more as you take in the new injury, looking at how bruised his flesh is around the gash.

“How the hell did you manage that?”

Arthur tenses for a moment only to relax under your gentle touch, leaning against the warmth of your hand.

“Dumbest way possible, surely.”

You chuckle at his words as you begin to ready to clean the area.

“Oh, and how's that?”

“Finished a bounty, nice reward out of it too I can treat you after this. But, on the way back to camp some crazy jumped from the tree line and spooked my horse, threw me right off and well…there was a well placed rock right there.”

He can’t even see your face but he can hear you biting back your laughter. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up, infamous gunslinger lost a fight to a rock.”

You finally can’t hold back your snickers, trying not to laugh too hard so you can see what you’re doing. Arthur grits his teeth, feeling your gloved hands brushing across the gash, listening to you hum.

“Well, luckily for you this cut isn’t too bad, you’re free from needing stitches, but I need you to tak it easy, it won’t heal right if you lift too much or go on crazy missions, alright?”

“Oh darlin’ you worry too much.”

“Arthur, I’m serious, you could risk infection and the area getting worse.” You get some gauze, wrapping it around his shoulder to make sure it’s secure, “You’ll need to come back everyday until it’s closed so I can monitor it, okay?”

Arthur looks back to you, his eyes meeting your worried filled ones, how did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve another chance at love? He didn’t know, but he knows he’s not going to let you slip away from him.

“Sweetheart, you know I’ll always come back to you, all that worryin’ ain’t good for ya.”

“I can’t help it, I love you too much, I alway worry about you.” You rest your head on his good shoulder, hands clinging to his shirt as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

“I love you too, sugar, now come ‘ere, how much do I owe ya?” He swivels around to face you while he fixes up his shirt.

“Really? Something tells me you just like getting kisses.” You chuckle, a bashful smile crossing your lips.

He’s such a gentleman for an outlaw, and ever the giving lover, how did you get so lucky?

“If it helps you stop worryin’ I’ll give you as many as you need.”

Can you blame him though? His sweetheart is his doctor, a damn good one too, all patchin’ him up and fretting over him? He’s surprised you can’t hear his heart racing with what you do to him.

[salty-autistic-writer]

You voted that an animal should cheer Tommy up. So here's some cat-Dad Tommy!

Tommy stares at the empty spot on the shelf of the shopping aisle. The spot where his favourite cake was supposed to be. 

He stares, his body frozen as his foggy mind tries to catch up with the new information, his hand already stretched out, hovering in the air.

They don’t have it. They always have it. But not today. 

Tommy is not surprised. He doesn’t have the energy to feel that kind of emotion. He just feels numb. Of course, they don’t have his cake. Tommy pulls his hand back. Forces himself to grab a pack of brownies instead. They land in his bag and join the sad collection already inside. Tissues. Frozen dinner. Beer. And stronger stuff for later. In case he can’t fall asleep again.

He doesn’t really care about what he puts in his body right now. Tommy didn’t even want to do the groceries. He doesn’t feel like eating. Doesn’t feel like doing anything at all. His body is a stone, pulling him down. Every step forward seems to add more weight. A heavy grey cloud is raining on his thoughts, making them swim in a thick foggy soup of nothing.

The cake might have cheered him up a little. At least for a while. But life won’t even grant him that kind of short sweet relief. Tommy guesses he deserves this. It’s Karma, right?

Anxiously, he drags himself through the shopping aisle to the cashout. He hopes no one he knows will see him like this. Because then he would have to explain that he doesn’t actually have a bad persistent case of the flu. He would have to tell them that instead, he managed to mess up the best thing that has ever happened to him and now carries around a broken heart that he doesn’t know how to fix. Fortunately, he makes it out without meeting anyone he knows.

Outside, the sun is too bright, burning his eyes. He blinks and lowers his head, not paying attention to his surroundings, and forces himself to take another slow step forward. He just wants to get back to his quiet dim house, to his couch, to his blanket, to some pointless TV blabbering and to something that will dull his senses.

But then, he hears the meow.

It’s loud. Shrill even. But … muffled.

Tommy stops with a frown, looking around. He’s alone. Only occasional cars pass him by. He hears another meow. And now manages to locate where it’s coming from.

A dumpster. Really?!

Tommy frowns and opens the lid. He looks inside, his eyes widening when he sees a bundle of brown fur and two greenish eyes blinking up at him. Another loud meow seems to be telling him: Finally! I was screaming for hours and no one ever bothered enough to take a look!

Sitting on a heap of disgusting garbage, the cat starts to scratch frantically at the walls of the container. But for some reason, the animal won’t climb or jump outside.

“Okay,” Tommy says, putting his bag down and pushing the sleeves of his hoodie up. “Alright. I’m going to get you out of there. Wait a moment …”

The stench that hits him when he bends over the dumpster is overwhelming. Tommy breathes through his mouth and reaches inside, stretching his arms until he can grab the cat that doesn’t try to bite or scratch him fortunately, and pulls it out.

As soon as he can take a closer look at the squirming animal, he sees why it didn’t try to jump. The hind legs got caught in some kind of plastic wrapping that binds them together. He carefully removes it, throwing it back into the garbage, checking if the cat is injured. That doesn’t seem to be the case. Good.

Tommy wonders how the cat got into the container in the first place. And realises he doesn’t really want to know the answer to that. He holds the brownish fur bundle in front of his face and she meets his eyes unafraid, blinking slowly. “You look like a brownie,” Tommy says, glancing at his shopping bag. “What am I supposed to do with you Brownie, huh?”

Of course, there’s no reply. Tommy shakes his head and puts the cat down. It sits and looks up at him, her tail swishing from side to side. Tommy picks up his bag. “I have to go home now,” he mutters. “You better clean up. The mice will smell you from miles away.”

He sighs and walks on. It only takes him a few seconds to notice that the cat is following him. “I don’t have any food for you,” Tommy tells her. “I don’t even have proper food for me. You met the wrong kind of person today, Brownie. Sorry.”

I mess up everything good in my life anyway. 

The cat isn’t impressed. And she continues following him until Tommy reaches his house.

* Brownie loves tuna.

She makes slurping noises while eating, inhaling the whole bowl in a few minutes, then looks up at Tommy, licking her nose.

“What? You want more?” Tommy asks, smiling for the first time in days. “Well, I only have one more can left, guess I will have to go to the grocery store again.”

He feeds Brownie more tuna, then bathes her because she’s reeking. The cat makes less fuss than he would have thought when her fur is being soaped up, washed and dried. Maybe she’s relieved to get rid of the garbage stench.

Tommy watches from the couch, as Brownie slowly inspects every corner of his house, smelling his plants - nibbling at each one for a second - and marking his furniture by rubbing against it, her tail raised in the air. She likes it here, Tommy realises. Well. What do they say? A cat chooses her home?

He doesn’t have any cat stuff at home though. No toilet. No food. No toys. He will have to get all of that from a shop. Tommy fidgets with a tissue and makes a mental list in his mind. The grey fog in there lifts as he focuses on the present and the fact that he now has a cat to take care of. He still can't believe this is his life. He stumbled over a cat and now everything changed. It's making him anxious in a whole other way.

Brownie looks at him, meowing quietly as if she can sense his emotional distress.

Evan would love her, Tommy thinks, still smiling.

God. Evan.

Sadness and regret hit him like a tsunami wave. Sudden. Cold. Painful. Drowning him in memories that wipe the smile off his face. Evan looked so hurt. Tommy never wanted to hurt him. Not him. He hunches over when the waves of aching pain reach his stomach. He wraps his arms around himself, blinking frantically as tears fill his eyes.

God. I miss him so much. I’m sorry. If I could go back in time and fix this - I would … 

Suddenly, Tommy feels something warm nudging his leg. He looks down, seeing Brownie rubbing her head against him. He can hear her starting to purr.

Tommy smiles through the tears, scooping Brownie up and gently placing her against his chest, where she stays, purring and starting to move her paws against him in rhythmic movements, baking biscuits. She’s warm, soft and still smells like soap. It’s nice. “I thought I needed cake. Didn’t think what I actually needed was a cat,” Tommy says quietly, sob-chuckling. “Look at you. You just arrived here and you already act like the world’s best comfort pet. Come on. Let me wipe away those tears and then I’m going to buy you some things you will need.”

* Brownie sniffs Evan’s shoes once, looks up at him for a scrutinizing moment, then walks away, showing him her butt.

Evan’s brows furrow. “She doesn’t like me.”

Tommy chuckles softly, putting his hand on Evan’s back. “Give her some time. She listened to me sobbing about missing you for too many nights.”

“Maybe I should move from cakes for humans to baking biscuits for cats,” Evan says with a small smile.

“But you have to put tuna into them,” Tommy says. “Brownie loves tuna.”

They look at each other, smiling, both knowing: Not everything is resolved. There’s still a lot of talking to do. But they showed each other that their relationship is worth fighting for.

(AO3 Link)

[marigold-hills]

Coming here to humbly request my beloved wolfstar at prompt 41?

of course! I was so happy to see you request. It’s turned out a little longer than I expected, hope you enjoy!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Remus says because the truth - that he’s altogether too drunk for this - would make it stop.

They’re playing truth or dare, Marauders edition. To their left, little shot glasses spiked with Veritaserum James has been brewing in a hidden alcove behind his bed. To their right glasses full of their chosen alcohol. Remus has a cheap muggle whiskey he’d learnt to enjoy over the summer, nowhere as smooth as what they sometimes get in the Three Broomsticks but he’s fond of how it burns when he swallows.

He prefers not to examine this.

“Come on, Moonshine, truth of dare,” Sirius cajols from his spot, sprawled out as he is across the rug at Remus’ feet. Hair a tangled mess on the floor, silly little grin stretching his lips and eyes just that side of glassy from the posh gin he has swirling like golden freckles in his glass. He’s a mess. He’s beautiful.

“Truth,” Remus sighs, faux-put out. His last dare involved standing and hopping and he doesn’t think he’s got the coordination left for any more.

Peter’s asleep in the corner of the floor, head wedged underneath his four-poster. Now and then, he snores and tries to roll over. Each time the bed leg gets in his way and he bounces away, disgruntled sleepy little sounds not unlike Wormtail’s.

James had gone to get supplies from the kitchen. Ostensibly. By the way he eyed the door as Evan’s laugh rose from downstairs, Remus doesn’t think he’s really coming back.

He rather likes having Sirius’ attention all to himself, is the thing. A bad thing. Another thing he prefers not to examine.

Sirius nudges the shot of potion and Remus, still pretending to be so very against the idea, drinks.

It’s James’ very own take on Veritaserum. Not enough to make them babble away all their secrets, not enough to force them to answer against their will. Just that whatever they do say, should they choose to, can be absolutely verified as truth.

Just one way of many that James, an absolute lovesick fool he is, is actually remarkably clever.

Remus drinks the agreed upon dose (three sips) and closes his eyes against the sudden rush of floaty giddiness. It goes as fast as it came.

Sirius sits up from his sprawl, and he looks so much like Padfoot for a moment Remus has to fight himself from stroking his head. It’s an ok thing to do to a dog. Not to a man.

“You’ve been reading poetry,” Sirius says with that self satisfied little lilt he gets in his voice when he’s a few steps ahead of everyone else.

“That’s not a question,” Remus tells him.

“You’ve been reading love poetry,” and there he is, leaning forward so his chin rests on Remus’ bed, those eyes of his looking up through those lashes and even without the potion Remus would tell him anything he asked.

“You didn’t need to give me Veritaserum to discuss literature, Padfoot.”

The smile stretches. “You’re not reading your dreary sad poetry, or your creepy gothic poetry, or your too-much-description-of-the-mountains poetry. Not anymore. You’re reading about love.”

Remus freezes. Because of course Sirius would notice. He notices everything, always, without fail. “And your question?”

Sirius doesn’t look like he’s asking, his eyes have something in them like he already knows. “Who is it?”

A redundancy of words. Remus sighs. Drinks his drink - for courage, not for forfeit. “You already know, Sirius,” he says, trying to keep his voice still. “Don’t be cruel.”

Sirius pushes off the floor and climbs up onto the bed and into Remus’ lap, and that? He didn’t expect that. His hands are full of Sirius, keeping him steady so he doesn’t go toppling off.

They really are drunk. The both of them, bad as one another.

“Tell me anyway,” Sirius asks. It’s nothing like begging, maybe more like a command, but really it sounds like Sirius knows he would never be denied. There is no point in asking when the answer is already given. (With every breath and every shared cup of tea, every glance across a room.)

“You know it’s you, Sirius,” Remus tells him through the Veritaserum’s pushing, without really knowing he does.

Sirius pounces. They topple backward onto the bed, Remus spread out on the mattress and Sirius on him, across him, above him. A grin so wide his teeth show, pretty and white and perfect. He smells like the overly expensive gin he’s been drinking.

“If you kiss me because you’re drunk, I don’t think I’ll forgive you,” Remus tells him.

“How about I kiss you because I love you?”

And that? “That you should absolutely do,” Remus falters, “do you?”

Sirius grabs the nearest wand (it’s Remus’) and has his own shot glass float up to where he’s clearly unwilling to get off Remus even for a moment. He drinks the three sips. “I do,” he says, once he’s given the potion enough time to work.

It’s Remus, that kisses him first.  (List of prompts: here!)

[lululocomo]

The past: Macaque's Reaction

(this is about my Forgotten Wukong au! feel free to look at the masterpost linked at the end if you wanna know more!)

_______________

Liu Er Mihou was the first to notice something happened. 

It’s been some years since his fight against Wukong, in which the Great Sage explained the best he could why he had to go through this pilgrimage and protect this monk. Mihou decided to give him one last chance and Wukong promised he will get home as soon as this Journey ended. Now Macaque is back on Flower Fruit Mountain hoping the King will keep his promise.

Macaque listens now and then in direction to the west, to know if the travel with the monk and the other pilgrims was almost done. The last time he listen what Wukong was up to, he was on his way to get his circlet removed by Guanyin after sealing the brotherhood in a scroll.

Finally! Wukong did kept his promise of getting back home after all of this was done! And about the brotherhood, well, Macaque wasn’t that sad about them. Sure they were friends, but not anymore, not after the fight against heaven and how they completely abandoned Wukong after it. Macaque still did try to find him and talked to him, even if the result was a smashed peach on the ground.

Mihou was still very conflicted about how to feel toward Wukong, they needed to have serious talk as soon as the King will be back on the mountain. But something wasn’t right, something was missing. Macaque couldn’t shake off this feeling of something missing, something big. Then he notice.

Wukong’s magic. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Minutes ago he could feel it getting closer, feeling Wukong getting closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. But now, nothing. It vanished into thin air. And then he noticed the lack of sounds.

He could no longer hear Wukong's breath, or his heartbeat. Normally Macaque is able to hear it even if he is far away thanks to his six ears.

But now, there was only a deafening silence. He couldn’t understand, what just happened? 

Not wanting to alarm the other demon monkeys on FFM, he continues to listen, to find any hints, anything to ease his mind and to tell him that all of this is a cruel joke. 

His mind went blank. There was no way Wukong just disappeared like that. Yes, he still hasn't forgiven him for going with the pilgrims and how he abandoned him, but he never expected all of this.

_________

No more than an hour later, Nezha was at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain,asking to see Macaque or any monkey in charge of Wukong's kingdom.

Macaque was pulled back from his spiraling of thought when he noticed Nezha's presence.

Using his shadow to teleport to him, he told him he better have a good reason why he's there. 

Nezha told him about all the things the Jade Emperor said; how Wukong died from a powerful curse he got during his journey, that apparently one of the many demons he fought had a cursed weapon capable of slowly killing an immortal being . And now his staff became cursed and is protected by a powerful barrier.

“ …where is he?” Macaque ask. “I- I don’t know. They didn’t answer when I asked, only saying he got disposed of.” “What do you mean disposed of?! You’re telling me it’s only been an hour since he supposedly died and he’s already disposed of??!” Nezha sighed: “Look I know this sounds very bad, and I agree something is awry. That’s why I came here as soon as I could to tell you this. Apparently his body was emanating a cursed energy after dying so that’s why they acted quickly” “... this doesn’t make any sense.." macaque paused "and what do you mean by something is awry? I was sure you would agree to whatever Heaven decided to do”. “I am not completely blind to what they do. Not long before they announced this, I saw that a part of the celestial army left the palace in secret and they got back when the news was spread. Perhaps it is connected, perhaps it is not. But my intuition tells me something is just wrong.”

“...”

“I know we are not on good terms but I thought it would be correct to tell you all this. I need to go now , my condolence for your loss.”

Nezha left the mountain as quickly as he got there to go back to the celestial palace.

Macaque stayed in the same spot,paralysed, still processing all the informations. ________

The news spread like wildfire. And everyone was too scared to go near the mountain with the "cursed magic staff".

Time passed, and Mihou was still looking for Wukong whenever he could, while protecting and taking care of the kingdom left behind after the sudden departure of the King.

Au Masterpost

[tricoloreddango]

Yandere Phainon sabotaging reader’s relationship

contents: gaslighting / gender neutral reader / mention of the death of the readers’s cat/ word count: 1k

The relationship you had with your boyfriend might not have been the most exciting, but you thought of it as satisfying enough… just the fact it let you live a stable and predictable life was enough to be comforting and not leave you lonely. Your relationship hasn’t started a long time ago, but you assumed it was going into a right direction.

However, Phainon wasn’t having it. He’s been consistently trying to prove it to you that you have settled down just for a bare minimum or has been bringing up things that (in his humble opinion) were red flags. This wasn’t any different when you invited Phainon over for tea.

He looked around the kitchen, noticing a spill of coffee beans on the counter. “Is this his mess?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m sure he’d clean it any other day. He just had to leave early for work,” you shrugged. You decided to change the topic, before Phainon would start telling you how you shouldn’t have to clean up after your own boyfriend. It was an innocent mistake from him, as he usually did his share of work. Phainon would still probably say something along the lines of “Even if, this is just the beginning—”

“He bought me flowers today,” you bragged to your visitor, sounding happy—not expecting your friend to soon make you lose that feeling. “What flowers did he give you?” he asked curious, smiling for your enthusiasm. “Roses,” you responded.

Suddenly, your friend looked disappointed, killing your smile. “Roses? Look, it’s nice he got you flowers. But aren’t peonies your favorite flowers?”

“Yes, but… he still didn’t have to give me any outside of occasions,” you muttered.

Phainon disagreed, “No, no. If he was buying them he might as well had picked the ones you like. It means he doesn’t really care about what you want but about what he wants and expects you to be grateful. Roses are so cliche and boring. He’s not romantic in any way.”

The look of uncertainty, wondering if you should believe his words, didn’t discourage Phainon. He was ready to prove you wrong furthermore your conversation. “Well… I can always tell him that. I’m sure he’ll understand and will make sure to get me the right ones the next time? He just didn’t know my favorite.” You smiled encouragingly, hoping your friend will agree.

He didn’t. He was ready to debunk your claim. “You really think he’ll listen? If he cared, he’d have asked you about your likes first. Also, don’t you remember when you asked to help you fix a tap? He didn’t,” he said with a slight disgust.

“Yes, but he was tired! He promised me he’d do it tomorrow, I just managed to do it before him,” your voice was now frustrated. Why was he so not understanding?

“I doubt that. You had to ask him to not tighten jar lids multiple times before he eventually had stopped, or had to ask him to stop putting jars on a shelf too high for you. He clearly doesn’t care about your boundaries. Don’t you remember his reaction? You said he raised his voice at you, didn’t you?” he said with worry.

“Right, but it’s because I asked him when he was busy and I wouldn’t stop interrupting—”

“My friend,” Phainon put a hand on your shoulder, his face all soft and apologetic you had to deal with such a bad man. “Even if busy, a right boyfriend wouldn’t raise his voice, as it signals anger issues if he’s snapping at something so simple. He would have remembered to not tighten lids in the first place, and be considerate of you having less strength or you being shorter. A boyfriend who cares is the boyfriend who knows you well.”

Phainon’s words were getting to you slowly, making you have second thoughts. What if you were naive and didn’t notice signs? You trusted Phainon, he’s never given you a reason to sabotage your happiness, so surely there must be some truth to his words… which doesn’t mean hearing it all was easy. You felt self conscious at the idea of letting yourself end up in such a bad relationship or being used. Tears blurrier your vision, threatening to fall.

“But… when I ended up losing my cat, he was there to comfort me! He definitely cares! He listened to me and did things for me so I could rest! He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t!”

Phainon shook his head gently, making his voice more serious, “He was using affection to get you attached in your vulnerable moments. That has to be true, considering he normally doesn’t show you much affection? He even acts all distant.”

“He’s just not that comfortable with being vulnerable, cause he had a difficult childhood! He still gets adjusted to opening up to me but we’re getting there!” you protested, but your efforts were starting to feel useless in your perspective. Phainon might really be right—if he didn’t mind easily showing you affection during your sad day, why wouldn’t he do so any other time?

“Emotionally unavailable people don’t change. They make relationships one sided! Aren’t you tired of making yourself vulnerable while he doesn’t give you anything in return?” he scolded gently, pulling you into his arms when you were finally crying. You didn’t protest, letting him rub your back. Phainon has never let you down, unlike your boyfriend, apparently. “I think you just want to ‘fix’ him. Yet this isn’t your role. You should find someone who makes you happy, rather than someone that you have to be responsible for! Relationship should make your life easier, not burdening. You have to say so many ‘buts’ to defend him; that should be enough concerning,” he added, his voice made cashmere to comfort you.

He felt all joy and relief when you ended up nodding into his chest. He’ll gladly show you what a boyfriend model should be, as no way in any universe he’d let you be with someone else. Phainon wholeheartedly believed that only he was meant for you, and that you can be the happiest with him only—he may as well be your soulmate.

Didn’t he know your needs the most? You could ask him what he thinks you’ve eaten yesterday and he’d have no problem guessing. You weren’t aware of the extent of his knowledge about you.

[banana-can-do-art]

Guys I just finished the well it’s not the entirety of Riddle’s dream there’s still like an hour and a half that hasn’t been translated on Gasmask’s channel but I finished the part that they did translate and omg heeelp this is the best dream yet. This is so sad omg I have to ramble about it also all translations I’m using are from gas mask on YouTube.

First of all omg he’s so happy it’s making me sad. Also him saying that he would be tired of everything being the same all the time right after I made that post rambling about how his implied OCD causes him to always do everything in a “samey” manner I aaaaagghhhh. And he’s saying that he’s going to have a chaotic band because in his dream he isn’t upset when things aren’t in order and he can just let himself be happy. You can’t do this to meeee! But there’s more!

Look he’s happily breaking the rules and feeling no anxiety about it whatsoever. (OCD be gone). In his dream world he can do what he wants with no terrible parents or mental illness holding him back. Look at him he’s adorable. And then we have this though agghhh.

This is so sad! When Ace and everyone tells him about what he’s like in real life as though they are talking about another person, Riddle immediately hates the person they are describing. Because he doesn’t like who he is irl. In fact, Riddle even says here that he hates school and studying and that it makes people miss out on the fun things in life. It’s so sad because who he actually is irl is the complete opposite of what he wants to be. He’s so isolated and self loathing I can’t.

Also in the dream Riddle isn’t even a mage. Because he doesn’t even actually like doing magic because all of the joy was sapped out of that for him because he’s always expected to do it perfectly. He never just gets to do magic because he wants to or because it’s fun but rather only because others expect and pressure him too. It feels like the idea of a hobby losing its charm and fun when people have to make it into their jobs. (I hope that doesn’t happen to me heeeelp)

Also I felt so bad for Trey during this because he knows the most about Riddle’s reality and he is the entrenched in it himself. Riddle’s mom screamed at him for five hours as a child and he’s scarred from everything that happened with Riddle and his mom as a kid and yet now he’s supposed to just walk into Riddle’s house like nothing’s wrong. That must be so jarring and unsettling. Props to Trey for managing to do that honestly that’s freaking terrifying.

Also I can’t with all of those pictures on the wall. What do you mean he hates his real life so much that in his dreams his entire memory has become fabricated. His real life memories are completely different from his dream memories. And what do you mean that in his dream his parents are together and they love him and neither of them are mages and he just lives a happy and normal life?! What do you mean?!

Also, even though his parents love him in the dream, his mom has been so awful to him irl that even though everything is fake he can’t even actually picture her face saying nice things to him so it’s just the house talking to him. That’s so awful!

Also then we get this whole reference to the scene in Alice in wonderland where Alice has the big tears and people are drowning. Except it’s tea this time lol. Also Riddle crying that he wants to get out of the house is so sad even in his dreams he can’t escape agshdjdjdj. Omg Cater is so funny in the drowning scene though, he’s just like stop crying we’re gonna drown lmao. Also I know Chenya is fake but it is still so unbelievably funny how he is literally drowning in tea and yet he just has this huge smirk on his face the whole time lol. Chenya’s so silly.

Also the house became so creepy omg I saw someone saying it looks like an rpg maker horror game and like it really does! Specifically I think it really looks like Sunny’s house during the truth sequence of Omori.

Speaking of rpg maker horror games, Malleus was really channeling his inner rpg maker horror villain this update. Poor Idia lol. My condolences to Idia, he’s become the main character of an rpg maker horror game. I dunno Idia if we are going for Omori parallels then maybe you should open that door.

And then later when he gets pulled deeper the dream reflects false desires. To have control over the dorm while everyone bows down to him is was he thinks he wants but not his actual true desire. That’s why in the second layer of his dream even though he is in power, he still seems miserable because we know that he doesn’t even want to be a mage in the first place, much less have all of these rules.

And then Chenya pushes him over and he gets tangled in his cape lmao. That was so funny and then the screen is just Riddle with his feet in the air lmao. That outfit is not conducive to getting up from a fall.

But omg when the darkness is telling him that in the dream they respect him while irl he is isolated it’s so sad. Because he knows that irl his rules and strictness (and OCD) isolate him and that’s why it’s so difficult for him to make friends. He understands that he is lonely because he is a control freak like this, and yet it’s the only thing that he knows how to do because it’s all he’s been taught. (And also because he’s mentally ill you see).

This is all so sad I can’t. Twst! How could you do this to me?!

Anyway, in conclusion punk band Riddle is the most amazing thing to ever grace my eyeballs just look at him. We need a Riddle vocaloid band rhythm game spinoff immediately actually. Also his new fit is absolutely slaying look at him go!

Now I must wait in agony for the next hour and a half or so to be translated by the great and amazing fandom hero, gasmask.

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Chapter 2- Ruinous

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst (sorry but not sorry), toxic behaviors between Bucky and Reader, 18+ MDNI

Length: 1.8k

Summary: You and Bucky are going through a rough patch. Is it something worth fixing?

A/N: Did I write this when I should’ve been studying for an exam? Yes, but I couldn’t help it!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

Bucky stares at the pieces of the whiskey glass on the floor. Little droplets of the whiskey mixed with the Asgardian liquor stained the wall and the floor. It was unfair, you lashing out at him. You knew his struggles, his demons. And he told you it wasn’t your fault.

But he knew, deep down, that you were being fair. You had to do what was good for you. And right now, that wasn’t him.

Bucky collapses on the couch, his head in his hands. He knows that he acted like an asshole. He knows that you deserve better than that. So why couldn’t he change? Why couldn’t he stop lashing out?

He doesn’t have the answer. He wants to, but it’s like he can’t control what he’s doing. So he gets up, grabs another glass and pours himself a hefty amount of Asgardian liquor and whiskey, and grabs the mostly untouched box of cigarettes from his secret cupboard.

-

You wake up cold. You felt the emptiness beside you and slowly opened your eyes. You’re not home, you realize. The explosive fight with Bucky happened. You leaving your shared apartment happened. You staying the night at Natasha's happened.

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to think. How can your relationship be saved? How could you leave the relationship? The decision is daunting to say the least.

To start off, Bucky and you have been together for years. You know each other inside and out. Well, you used to.

You shake your head and try to think more.

Bucky has a short temper, quick to anger. But it was never with you. When you fought, it typically wasn’t anger that made you scared. He always made sure that you were trying to understand his side.

You shake your head. You couldn’t stop contradicting yourself. If you thought about a good thing about Bucky, a negative would follow. The whole situation is confusing for you.

You decide that laying in bed isn’t helping your decision. You get up and make the bed, trying to be a good guest. You leave the room to find Natasha in the kitchen making breakfast.

She offers you a small smile. “Morning, want some?”

You look at the pan and see eggs. You scrunch your nose.

“No thanks, I can’t even think about eating right now.” You sigh and hop up on one of the counters.

Natasha places her spatula down and leans on the opposite counter to look at you. “I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep.”

“Well I did sleep, it wasn’t very restful though.” You yawn and shrug.

Natasha nods. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t know what more I can say, you know?” You feel your eyes begin to water again. “I knew about his baggage, his nightmares, who he is. And I fell for him hard and fast. And now he’s going backwards and refusing to get help. All of the bad doesn’t negate the good, but his recent actions are things I can’t overlook.”

Natasha hums and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe this is something you need to talk to him about.”

You quickly wipe under your eyes with a sniff. “Is that a good idea?”

Natasha pushes herself off of the counter to stand in front of you. “Are you scared that he’s going to do anything irrational?”

You shake your head. Even though Bucky isn’t acting totally like himself, he’s not an idiot.

Natasha nods. “Then you need to have this conversation with him. Maybe he can tell you his side of things and maybe that’ll change things for you.”

You think about what she said. On one hand, you know that talking to Bucky would maybe clarify some things for you. On the other hand, it may cause another fight. But it was something you were willing to risk.

-

You unlock the front door, the stench of Asgardian liquor and smoke filling your nose. You see Bucky on the couch, a cigarette in his hand.

He takes a drag before turning to you. “Where were you?”

You frown at his hand. Bucky follows your gaze. He knows you hate it when he smokes. Smoking is one of the few things he picked up again when he felt stressed. But he told you that he stopped because of how much you hated it. Now you know he lied.

“Natasha’s.” You mutter.

Bucky scoffs at this and puts out the cigarette. “Of course you were.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stands up. “It means I’m tired of you always running to her when we fight.”

“How is that any different than you going to Steve?”

“Because Steve is Steve. He’s my best friend.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “You’re telling me that just because Steve is your best friend he’s better than Natasha? She’s not some stranger.”

“Well she’s basically one to me, you spend so much time with her.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t an asshole!” You raise your voice.

Bucky clenches his jaw. “So it’s my fault that you always run to her?”

“Sorry I don’t feel like I can come home!” You yell at him sarcastically.

He furrows his brows. “What, you don’t feel safe?”

“Look at you now! You’re getting angry with me for wanting space and hanging out with Natasha. Why would I come home if this is what I’m coming home to?”

“All because of what happened yesterday? Is that why you don’t want to come home?”

“No, I don’t want to come home because I’m scared of you! I’m scared that you’re moving backwards and this isn’t something that I can help you with. And… I’m scared that this isn’t something that I want to be around.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to be around?” He takes a step towards you.

“Bucky, you’ve been going backwards for months. You’ve been quick to anger, you started to drink more often, you’ve been lying to me about smoking for who knows how long. You act like you don’t have friends or loved ones who want to help you, like you don’t have resources.”

Bucky swallows. “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

You take a shaky breath. “Then I’m moving out.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and his heart drops. “You’re gonna move out because I started drinking more and smoking again?”

“No, I’m moving out because I cannot and will not watch you destroy yourself. I come home drained. Not from work but from guessing what you’re going to be like. I want to do anything but come home to you and it shouldn’t be like that.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “What happened to through thick and thin? You’re gonna abandon me because I’m trying to work through some things?” 

“Bucky I’ve been with you through thick, and I’ve been with you through thin. But you haven’t. I can’t be two people.”

“Well sorry that I can’t be the perfect boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not asking for perfect. I’m asking for you to do the bare minimum and I’m not even getting that.”

“So me sharing everything with you is not enough?”

“Bucky, you only share halfhearted things! You tell me what you had for lunch and then your upcoming missions. I don’t know much about who you were growing up or what your favorite color is. I want to know all of you and you only want to share a fraction of that.”

“Do you really think it’s easy for me to share the things Hydra did to me? The things I did?”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. And I’m grateful that you shared bits of that, but you are moving backwards. You won’t even go see your therapist!”

“I don’t need some shrink to tell me the fucked up things I’ve done. I don’t need someone who doesn’t understand what it was like to be a fucking science experiment try to ‘decode’ me. Therapy doesn’t work.” Bucky takes another step towards you and softens his voice. “And I don’t need you to see how truly broken I am.”

“Bucky, I only see you. I see a man who has overcome all of these terrible things and is trying to right his wrongs. But I can’t see all of him when he’s starting to pull away from me. And you can’t say therapy doesn’t work when you’ve only been to 3 sessions and haven’t been back in months.”

“Fine, I’ll share things with you. Is that what you want? I’m not going to see some shrink, bringing up the past is… it has too many memories.”

You sigh and shake your head. “I need space, you need time. I can’t keep living like this, seeing you deteriorate in front of my eyes.”

Bucky finally lets himself break, his eyes water and his voice cracks. “For how long?”

“Until you show me you’re trying to get better.”

Bucky swallows. “And if I don’t?”

You shake your head. “You’re going to try.”

Bucky nods. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears staining your cheeks. It bothers you how much you’ve been crying the past few days but it’s been a long time coming.

“I’m going to go get more of my things.” Bucky nods, not able to say anything to you.

As you move towards the bedroom, Bucky sits back down on the couch. How is this real? He thought to himself. He knows that his actions have consequences, but you are the best thing that has happened to him. Was it because he was too selfish? Should he have known that all good things come to an end?

But you were willing to come back to him. You wanted him to get better. And he knows that the selfish part of him isn’t going away when it comes to you.

You exit the bedroom with another big bag of your things. Bucky looks up and stands.

“I don’t know what to say.” You try to take in every feature of his. “I’m probably going to stay with Natasha for a few days, then I’m going to talk with Tony about a more permanent solution.”

Bucky nods, not being able to bring himself to talk. You feel a pang in your heart, not wanting to leave him but knowing that it’s what's best.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” You walk towards the door.

Bucky finally speaks up. “Stay safe.”

You turn around and give him a small broken smile. “You too.”

As the door closes behind you, Bucky can feel everything around him shake. He sits on the couch, his head in his hands. Bucky lets out a cry, gasping for breath.

His whole world had left.

[meadowfics]

heyy i was wondering if you Could do Sae byeok x fem reader Where reader is having really bad period cramps to the point Where she is unable to move without feeling Extreme pain and is throwing up everything she stands up for long periodes of time.

extreme sickness

kang sae-byeok x f!reader

the moment sae-byeok notices you curled up in bed, barely able to move while holding your stomach, she immediately knows something is wrong.

you’re usually up and about, doing things even when you’re tired

now?

you look completely drained.

when she touches your forehead, she realizes how clammy you are.

you flinch slightly from the pain radiating through your body, and it makes her frown deeply.

she doesn’t like seeing you like this.

"it’s that bad?"

she asks softly, already knowing the answer when you give her a weak nod.

sae-byeok quickly grabs an extra blanket, tucking it around you before leaving the room.

she returns with a heating pad and places it gently on your lower stomach, her touch careful and precise.

"stay here. i’ll get you something for the pain,"

she murmurs before heading to the kitchen to brew some warm tea and grab painkillers.

when she returns, she kneels beside the bed, pressing the cup against your lips, encouraging you to sip slowly.

the woman's free hand strokes your hair, brushing damp strands away from your face.

the pain doesn’t let up, and soon, you’re rushing to the bathroom, nausea hitting you hard.

sae-byeok is right behind you, holding your hair back as you throw up, rubbing slow circles into your back.

"breathe, baby. i’ve got you,"

she whispers, her voice softer than ever.

she hates seeing you like this, but she won’t let you suffer alone.

when you’re done, she wipes your mouth with a damp cloth and helps you back to bed, making sure you’re lying in the most comfortable position possible.

she massages your lower back and stomach, her hands firm but soothing, trying to ease some of the pain.

she’s never been the best with words, but her actions speak for themselves.

throughout the day, she doesn’t leave your side.

she brings you snacks even if you can’t keep much down, making sure you stay hydrated.

when you start crying from the intensity of the cramps, she pulls you against her chest, holding you close, whispering reassurances.

"i’m right here. just hold onto me."

sae-byeok stays up through the night, watching over you, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead when she thinks you’re asleep.

even though she’s not the most affectionate person, she makes sure you know she’s there, making you feel as safe and comfortable as possible.

she lets you sleep in her arms, the warmth of her body soothing your pain little by little, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone in this.

masterlist

[pacofprunes]

‘gentleman’

k x reader (bad and crazy)

WARNINGS — noncon, use of the word rape

by clicking read more, you consent to reading 18+ content

he’s always been a gentleman. he’s always held the door open for you, always bought you flowers, always grabbed whatever you needed so that you wouldn’t have to get up. he did everything for you at the drop of the hat. so he just wishes while he pressed into you slowly and while you took all his length, that you could just appreciate how kind he’s been and just lay there quiet and pretty.

he’s taking care of you. he’s being gentle. the only thing making it not so kind is the hold he’s got on your wrists so that you can’t get away. but everything comes with a little pain! can’t you see? you have to like him too, there’s just no way you don’t. he’s done everything to help you. he’s been the kindest man in the world to you, he’s treated you like you’re his world. and you are! so can you maybe just let him get a little…compensation?

he knows it’s wrong. he feels bad when he sees your tears rolling down your cheeks, and that’s why he stops looking at you. that’s why he shoves your face into the pillow. that’s why he stops being such a gentleman and starts slamming his hips against you, just chasing his own pleasure. he can’t take it anymore. can you just stop crying? he doesn’t want to see the tears staining the sheets. he doesn’t want to see the tears dripping onto the shirt he left untouched on you. he doesn’t want to see the tears on you and he can’t stand to hear the actual crying. so he just holds your wrists in one hand and your head with the other.

he’s fucking himself out so much that he almost forgets to let you breathe. he wasn’t looking at you after all. he knew he was hurting you and he didn’t want to look up. so he just kept his eyes on your pussy and listened to her sing. when he lets go of your head and you’re finally silent so that he doesn’t shove your face back down he lets out a breath of relief. he doesn’t speak at all to you besides a few “shhs”. he doesn’t want to hear your protests. he doesn’t want to feel your protests. he doesn’t want to see them. so when he finally feels you squeeze around him he smiles and finally lifts his head to meet your eyes, his hair sticking to his forehead and that psychopathic smile on his face. he didn’t look like a gentleman right now. he didn’t look like the k that you had grown to know. none of this felt real and you kept blinking your eyes open just hoping you’d wake up and be at home surrounded by the bunches of flowers and letters he leaves you. but when you felt something warm slipping out of you and leaking down your legs and you felt his grip on you loosen just slightly and you feel his droplets of sweat smacking you in the face, that’s when you knew it was real. and when you felt his lips press against you for the first time, you laying there still in shock not knowing what to do, that’s when you knew it was all real. and when you look towards the corner towards all those once beautiful bouquets of flowers, it’s as if they’re crying too. their once perky stems drooping down and the beautiful pink they once were turns into an almost black shade. you didn’t even know it was possible for the petals to wound up that dark. but then again, you didn’t know it was possible for your best friend to rape you either.