#WHERE ARE THEY WHERE ARE THEY WHERE ARE THEY WH

[wizardshark]

wh

where do you go for this

i like how at five guys they're like oh you want one burger okay "ONE LITTLE BURGER" and then the guy cooking the burger is like "ONE LITTLE BURGER FOR BABY FAGGOTS THAT CAN ONLY HANDLE ONE PATTY COMING UP" and then if you can't finish it they make you wear a maid costume and handcuff you to the sink in the men's bathroom

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight Part.4

TRIGGER WARNING: slight mention of injury, mentions of abuse, all angst no comfort

They’d been led into Clara’s room almost an hour ago, stood around for a few minutes staring at her as she slept, unsure of what to do before each of them found their place.

Mapi and Ingrid sat at her sides, both holding one of her hand in theirs, keeping their eyes on her, watching for any sign indicating she might be waking up.

Alexia took post near the door, standing against the wall her arms crossed over her chest, eyes locked on Clara’s face. The couple urged her to sit down or to at least stand near them, but the captain had refused, face tight, lips pressed into a hard line she’d simply looked at the door and stayed there.

She’d stared down any nurse or doctor that came by during their wait, she’d watched closely as they checked Clara vitals, looked at her bandages, she’d stood there looking like a spring wound tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Alexia felt like she had failed Clara, that she hadn’t protected her when it mattered and she would be damned if she let anything happen to her now. But Clara wasn’t awake, and it’s not like she could deal with her father herself, so she stood guard.

She couldn’t believe how small she looks in that hospital bed, the pediatrics gown they’ve put on her doesn’t help either, the small smiling characters contrast with the severity of her injuries. While the bandage and bruise on her face shocked all of them when they’d entered, she knows that the ones hidden by the gown are so much worse.

They’d been sat in an almost religious silent since they’d entered, their vigil only interrupted during the regular check-ins of the nurses, all looking for any signs of life from Clara, while they all knew that the regular beeping of the monitor meant that she was here and alive, they knew that they would only be able to start to relax when she would finally open her eyes.

Clara may have been lying less than a meter away from them, but it felt like she’d never been further, they’d all missed it. They had spent months alongside her, and somehow never noticed that it was all wrong, the smiles, the laugh, the playful banter, it had only been a ruse to hide the truth.

A small whine echoed in the room, pulling the attention of all three women towards the bed. Mapi and Ingrid standing immediately and leaning over the bed toward Clara’s face while Alexia took the few steps separating her from the foot of the bed to reach them.

“Nena?” asked Mapi “Can you hear us?”

More soft sounds came out of the young girl whose face seemed to tense as she slowly became more aware.

“Can you open your eyes nena?” pleaded Ingrid, the desperation to finally see Clara awake seeping through her words.

Clara didn’t open her eyes but one of her hands came up trying to feel her head where pain still radiated from, Mapi caught it just as she was about to reach the bandage covering up her forehead.

“No no no Nena leave that alone” she softly tells her, voice firm.

A confused whine comes out of Clara as she blearily open her eyes, blinking slowly as she makes direct eye contact with Alexia from her position on the lightly raised bed. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion, her gaze darting around the room as she takes in her surrounding. Her eyes dart to each of the women standing in the room, Mapi and Ingrid by her sides and her captain standing before her.

“Wha.. What happened?” Clara asks.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” answers Ingrid, her shaky voice causing Clara’s confusion to rise.

“Training? We were doing the 11vs11 and then… I don’t know, my head hurts though, so I’m guessing I hit it? Is that why we’re here? And why you all look at me like I’m about to die?” answers Clara trying to see the humor in the situation.

Clara’s joke about the scar was meant to lighten the mood, but it felt hollow. Her words hung in the air, flat and forced. It was the same nervous habit she had when she didn’t know what to say, when she was unsure how to handle the tension building around her.

Alexia’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her eyes narrowing as Clara made light of the situation. The smile on Clara’s face, the joke about their worry, it grated against everything Alexia was feeling. She wanted to shout, to demand answers. She turned away from the scene in front of her, trying to calm herself.

“Yes, you hit and bashed your forehead open during training, you lost consciousness and that’s why you were brought here” confirms Ingrid, whose hand is now back holding Clara’s, running small circle on it with her thumb.

“Will the scar look cool at least?” says Clara wiggling her eyebrows towards Mapi.

Alexia turns back to them, her hand coming down harshly against the metal bars of the foot of the bed, the smack resonating throughout the room.

“Will you stop joking! Alexia’s voice broke the tense silence, loud and raw. She slapped her hand against the metal foot-board of the bed with a sharp crack, and Clara flinched, the sound ringing in the room. “You had us all worried to death!”

Clara’s smile faltered, and she stiffened in Ingrid’s grip, her eyes wide with confusion. Her body tensed, as if the words had physically struck her. She turned to look at Alexia, but the captain had already turned away, her shoulders rigid with barely contained anger.

The couple shared a worried look over her, both noticing the growing tension in the room. Mapi took a step closer to Alexia, her hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, but it was like touching a live wire. Alexia’s tension radiated off her, a palpable force that made the air feel thick. Mapi could see the storm brewing in her captain’s eyes, but she couldn’t calm it.

“Ale…” whispers Mapi

Ingrid’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Alexia, stop. She’s not ready for this. We need to focus on her, not fight each other.”

“No! She doesn’t get to joke about this! She doesn’t get to pretend everything is just fine!” exclaims Alexia pushing Mapi’s hand off her and taking a small step back.

Clara’s heart raced. The outburst felt like a slap, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. What had she done? Why was Alexia angry at her? Her mind raced, struggling to make sense of the sudden change in atmosphere. Had she been next to her when she got injured? Had she injured someone else and the captain is mad at her for it? She racks her brain trying to make up a story in her head that would fit with her reaction but comes up empty.

“I don’t understand” she says in a small voice.

Ingrid softly smiles at her, but she can see the unease in her traits as she looks up at her, the hand that she’d been tightly holding onto lets go and a small part of her wishes she could grab it right back, and Ingrid’s hand comes up to her unmarred cheek and she slowly caresses it.

Ingrid’s hand was warm against her cheek, and for the briefest moment, Clara allowed herself to lean into it, as though the simple gesture might pull her back from the brink of panic. “It’s okay, nena”, Ingrid murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on healing. That’s all that matters right now. “

Clara wished she could sink into Ingrid, desperate to feel the comfort she’d been craving for months, but she couldn’t allow herself to fall into it, Alexia is already upset with her, and there’s no way she’d allow herself comfort, not when she’d obviously done something wrong and needed to atone for it somehow.

She starts to wonder if this is it. If Alexia is finally tired of having to take care of her. She’d tried no to be a bother to the older players, tried to do her part and follow all of the captain’s order. But maybe she’d been too much, too needy, maybe that’s why Alexia seemed so distant.

She should be used to it by now, trusted adults giving up on her, she should have learned that lesson long ago. Tried to get by whilst only relying on herself, tried to distance herself from the pain that would come with the inevitable abandonment that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

But she made mistakes, got too attached again, went to dinner at Mapi and Ingrid’s house, got attached to them, to their gentle care, followed Alexia’s advice blindly and did all she could to get the words of praise she craved from her.

She ended up in the same place she always does. Scared, hurt and alone. Sure she’s surrounded by them in the too bland hospital room, but in the end it’s only her.

Only her that goes home to her father, her who patches herself up and gets up in the morning no matter how much it hurts. It’s the four walls of her room that bear witness all her cries and anguish, it’s her who fights to keep going when it feels like the world is crushing her.

Clara can only rely on herself, it’s why she inches herself away from Ingrid, as much as she can, trapped on the small hospital bed, she’s rebuilding her walls, readying herself to face Alexia’s anger head-on, it’s why she misses the way Ingrid’s smile falls, how Mapi and Alexia abruptly end their hushed argument to turn and look at her.

“Nena?” asks Ingrid, trying to understand how in the space of a few seconds Clara went from leaning on her to seemingly trying to get as far from her as she can.

“I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done” says Clara, tone flat, almost mechanical.

The women all share concerned looks, it’s like she’d completely disconnected herself from the situation, laying there but not fully present.

“What are you apologizing for Nena? You’ve done nothing wrong” asserts Mapi, walking closer to her bed, but Clara barely reacts to her approach, her gaze unfocused and distant.

Clara turns her head to look at her, but to Mapi it feels like she’s looking through her rather than at her.

“But I must have done something wrong don’t I? It’s why she’s mad right?” asks Clara, her head making a small nod in Alexia’s direction, who suddenly feels like the worst person on earth.

Clara had woken up hurt in an unknown place, and what had she done except raise her voice at her and apparently scare her enough into becoming whatever this empty person in front of her seemed to be?

“Nena, nobody is mad at you, Alexia is just worried.” tries to explain Ingrid, her hand reaching for Clara’s.

But Clara retracts her hand from where it had been clutching the sheet, bringing it closer to her chest, as if Ingrid’s hand could hurt her, would hurt her. Her mind screaming at her to get away before she gets hurt again, before Ingrid leaves her behind.

Ingrid swears she can feel her heart breaking inside her chest seeing Clara flinch away from her, she looks at Mapi, distraught and not quite sure how she can help Clara without scaring her further.

The guilt momentarily overtaken by the need to care for the young girl now takes back control over her, stomach tightening into knots, she can feel bile rising in her throat at the possibility of Clara thinking that she’d hurt her.

“Why?” demands Clara “I’m completely fine aren’t I? My head feels fine, they already stitched me up, I’m sure they’ll let me out of here soon anyway!” she tells them, her voice raising along as she speaks, surely they understand that? She’s fine, has been for months, she can handle injuries, after all she’d been taking care of herself for months.

Mapi sighs, sitting in the chair next to her bed, hands resting on her thighs, taking a few small breaths before speaking “But it’s not just your head Nena isn’t it?” she’s posing the sentence as a question but they all know it’s more of an affirmation.

Clara tense as Mapi finishes her question, her eyes darting around the room as if she’s looking for a way out of the conversation, and if they’d looked at the monitor they would have seen her heart rate slowly raise as the conversation kept going.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s just my head, it’s the whole reason we’re here aren’t we?” Clara tries to affirm, but they can all hear the shakiness in her voice as Clara desperately tries to stay in control of the situation.

“Nena, we know.” says Alexia, voice firm, her expression tense. She’s done playing around with this issue, done pretending everything will be okay when none of them are sure it has even been okay to begin with.

Clara can feel her whole body tense up. She can hear her heart beat in her ears, almost drowning out the sounds around her, can feel the way her hands clench to the point she’s pretty sure her nails have cut the skin of her palms.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asks Clara, defiance in her tone, if she has to go down, she’ll go down fighting. She’s done this whole dance routine before, she knows all about adults pretending to care only to leave when things get too real, too hard, too inconvenient to them.

She’s aware of their eyes on her, can see the tears in Ingrid’s eyes, can see the way Mapi looking at her, like she’s just a small, hurt, thing, it pisses her off, why do they pretend they care? She knows they don’t, no one has so far so why would they? But more importantly she’s fucking mad at Alexia, acting like she just knows everything when she knows nothing.

“How about you tell us about how you hurt your ribs?” Alexia’s eyebrows are raised, looking at her like she defying her to try and lie about it, Clara can see the exasperation in her eyes and somehow it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

“My ribs are fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” grits out Clara through clenched teeth, of course they hurt, she was pretty sure her father slamming her against the wall had been what caused the pain radiating in her side, but it had been manageable.

Alexia is stuck between wanting to wrap Clara in bubble wrap never letting her leave her sight and shaking the hell out of her. She contains her anger but can’t help the scoff that leaves her mouth.

“Try again, Clara. Fractured ribs aren’t fine.” she tries again from her position standing at the end of Clara’s bed with her hands on her hips.

Clara feels her heart stop in her chest before it starts back up thundering against her rib cage, her hands clutching into fists, she stares right back at Alexia as the monitor behind her start beeping loudly, alarming all the occupants of the room.

Alexia clenches her fists at her sides, guilt and frustration warring inside her. She wants to shake Clara, to make her understand they’re here for her but instead, her words come out sharper than she intended.

“That’s enough Alexia!” firmly exclaims Mapi “This isn’t helping her!”

“And letting her pretend everything is fine when she has been hiding being abused for weeks?” she snaps back at her, her eyes not leaving the teen’s own.

The world freezes. Clara hears the word abuse echo over and over, louder than the monitor, louder than her own heartbeat. Her vision blurs, her mind screaming to retreat, to block everything out—but instead, she forces herself to surface. To fight.

The others have been looking at her expectantly, waiting to see how she’ll answers Alexia’s words.

She choose the same path she always does when she’s confronted with the subject of her home life.

“Abuse?” she scoffs “And where did that crazy idea come from huh?” she continues

Even Mapi looks disappointed, they’d all hoped Clara would come clean, admit what she’d been going through, they remembered the agent words on abused children, but they thought, no, hoped, Clara would trust them enough with this, if not before then now.

“Clara” Ingrid speaks up “There’s no point hiding it anymore, we know okay? We know and we want to help you, please let us help you” there’s tears dripping out of her eyes as she holds eye contact with Clara, who’s looking back at her wide-eyed.

“I want my dad.” Clara’s voice trembles, rising to a pitch that makes the others freeze. She doesn’t know why she said it, only that the words feel like her last defense

The room falls silent, her words shocking everyone into stillness. Then Alexia speaks, her voice low, trembling with fury “He’s not coming anywhere near you, if we have anything to say about it.” Spits out Alexia through clenched teeth, trying to hide her shaking hands by holding onto the bed’s foot-board.

“He’s never coming close to you again” Alexia’s voice shakes, but her eyes stay locked on Clara. The guilt of her earlier anger still gnaws at her, but she channels it into conviction.

The monitor screams, and Clara erupts. “NO! LET GO OF ME! I WANT MY DAD! DAD, PLEASE!” She thrashes against the bed, tears streaming, her voice cracking with each desperate cry.

They all surround the bed, trying to get a hold of the crying teen whilst trying to keep their own tears at bay, hoping to stop her from aggravating her injuries.

Doctors flood the room, their voices sharp and urgent as they push the others aside. Alexia tries to argue, her voice cracking, but Mapi pulls her back. All they can do is watch from the hallway, the sound of Clara’s screams echoing in their ears until, mercifully, silence falls

The doctor came out of the room explained to them that Clara had to be sedated for her own good, that they couldn’t get the panic attack to stop and that the risk of worsening her injuries was too great.

They’re all told to leave for the night, to let her rest, that with the sedative she’s been given she’d sleep until the next day anyway, the doctor kindly recommends they get some sleep as well, that talks can wait till everyone is better rested and less on edge, before he leaves them standing there.

They leave, and go back to their home, all feeling emptier than ever. Everything they’d had hoped for ruined, they were left feeling like they had failed again.

Ingrid and Mapi go back to their apartment, foregoing food and showers, they just lay in each others arms, finally letting out all the anger, guilt and fear, out, through shaking sobs as they tried to keep the other from falling apart.

Alexia could have gone home to her apartment, gone back to Olga’s arms, but she’d drove straight to her mother’s house, knocking on her door before collapsing in her arms as soon as the door opened.

Her mother guided her to the couch before holding her tightly, rubbing her back as Alexia sobbed her feelings out, cried out her guilt, her failure.

They all wanted to help the teen, but would Clara let them?

As Clara laid on her hospital bed she’d asked herself the same question, woozy from the medication she realized she’d soon have to make a decision.

Her teammates or her father.

[soaking-wet-cat-punk]

chatpter five

The next day I woke up in my new bed. It was very uncomfortable.

“Yaoi!! (Yowie)” I screamed. “my bones :(“

Feyd rautha the bald twunk was standing at my door. h-h-h-h-had he been watching me sleep??? (like Edward and Bella in twiloght). “BAD morning 😈” he said sexily and then he left.

I did chores all day…. It wasn’t fair!! Back when I was younger I’d had a good life. My dad had been rich, but then we lost all our money. we had to move to Arrakis, USA, which is basically nowhere if u think about it. My mom used to be nice too, before she started drinking the Water of Life due to our financial troubles. Then my dad died in the Bald Prople War of 10,191 and my life went downhill.

I reminisced sadly while I scrubbed Harry Styles’s solid gold shower floor. Rabid girls on Tunglr Dot Com would love to be where I was right now…

Then it occurred to me. A thought! I’d never had one before. Maybe I could buy my way out of servitude by selling Harry Styles’s bath water!!!!!!1!!1!!!!1!1!1!11!!1!!!!!!!!!1!1!

I started to giggle determinedly. “hehehehehehehehhe…….”

“What’s so funny?”

I SCREAMED and dropped my everything. It was chani she was leaning against the door all cool and everything.

“nothing…. :(“ I said sadly

“heh.” she flipped her hair but in a tomboy way not like a girl. “You’ve got a cute laugh.”

“Wh-wh-wh-what??!??” I stammered. But she just smirked and left.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

I threw a kindjal at my alarm clock.

“Paul! Get your prophetical ass downstairs!” my Reverend Mother yelled. I looked into the mirror to see my blue orbs staring at me. I put my natural dark curls into a messy bun. I threw on a stealthsuit and my favorite hoodie. I went downstairs to see my mother, surrounded by a group of fanatical followers with a bottle of water of life in her hands.

“Listen up! We needed to settle the spice melange crisis, so I sold you. Your new owners will arrive any minute”.

“You can’t do that! You are an awful mother!” She shrugged a took a swig of the water of life.

“That’s the Way, Paul, and I love being a fanatical ruler more than I love you. Actually, could’ve skipped whole being a concubine thing”

“That’s not the Way, it’s an anachronistic reference, you bitch!” I stormed out in the desert, but when I opened the door I saw one bald boy blocking the way. What was that thing called? His black orbs stared at me as he bared his black teeth.

“I think you are trying to say Golden Path” he said, grinning “But in this timeline it would also be anachronistic”

“As it is written!” Stilgar shreiked “He is being sold to One Direction!”

[neverenoughmarauders]

Lily's meaningless sacrifice

One thing that irks me is when people suggest that in canon, Lily had any idea that Harry would survive (this is merely a canon post, nothing to do with fanfiction). It irks me, partly because it's just incorrect and that's the sort of person I am. More importantly, however, it irks me because Lily not stepping aside when she had nothing to gain from dying is fundamental to the story.

Let's start with JKR own words from an interview in 2005:

MA: Did she know anything about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry? JKR: No - because as I've tried to make clear in the series, it never happened before. No one ever survived before. And no one, therefore, knew that could happen.

Lily knew nothing about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry. Lily was faced with this choice:

Scenario 1: Steps aside, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 2: Be killed, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 1 is (on the surface) objectively better (unless you're a DE and thus want less muggle-borns around). To Voldemort, it's a simple choice: In both scenarios Harry will die, in one, Lily will survive. In fact, this is what makes a lot of people defend Severus' choice to only ask Voldemort to spare Lily. Severus could not save Harry (and apparently it's totally cool not trying to save others if they bullied you).

Lily could not save Harry.

Lily's choice, as far as she is aware, is not whether to save Harry or not, but whether to save herself. And yet, Lily cannot stand aside. As JKR points out earlier in the interview, what Lily did is not that surprising to us readers ("I don't think any mother would stand aside from their child"). Why? Love. Because, as Dumbledore reminds us on multiple occasions: there are worse things than death - most notably in DH:

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

Love, and life with and without love is an undercurrent in the story. Lily's sacrifice is meaningless when made, and yet it's the biggest and most understandable expression of love anyone can show someone else. Lily cannot, and does not want to, live in a world where she has witnessed her son being murdered - especially when her husband has been murdered too. A world without Harry and James is no world for Lily Potter.

It is also - bear with me - not that different from what it was like to be in the Order at that time:

[Y]ou weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...

“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

The Order operated against the odds and were being picked off one by one. As Peter asks - what was there to be gained by refusing him? What was there to be gained from standing (metaphorically or not) in front of Voldemort's victims? I've said this before and I'll say it again, Sirius' answer is powerful:

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” “You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black.

Only innocent lives. They weren't fighting this war because they were winning. In fact they were very much losing. But they were fighting because it was right thing to do. Many Order members chose to die, rather than to step aside and let Voldemort take over. Only in their case it didn't make a difference - or at least, it didn't feel like it at the time. Members were murdered, and Voldemort was just getting stronger and stronger.

What was there to be gained by refusing Voldemort?

I firmly believe this is a theme that is repeated throughout the book: not just love and choice, but the obligation to choose what is right, no matter the odds (the irony that this was written by JKR will never be lost on me), and how love is a powerful motivator to do just that. Doing the right thing might seem hopeless in the moment - wasteful even - but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing, or that in the end, it won't add up.

Imagine what Harry felt like at the end of PS/SS when he risked his life to stop Voldemort, only to realise that Voldemort would keep trying to come back:

“Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” “No, Harry, he has not. (...) Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry Potter isn't about doing the right thing because it will bring you rewards, but because it is the right thing.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

This speech doesn't sit well with a few people because it sounds like you're asked to remember what happened to someone who did do the right thing (spoiler: he died). But that's not the point, of course. Cedric wasn't killed for doing the right thing or making a hard choice - Dumbledore asks the students to remember Cedric because the enemy is willing to kill innocent people indiscriminately. Standing aside will not be good enough against people like Voldemort. There is, as Dumbledore put it, a need to keep fighting what seems a losing battle. Why? Only innocent lives.

Both James and Lily die that evening because they are unwilling to let Voldemort near their innocent son as long as there is breath in their bodies. James had no choice (this irks me because he did, he could have run away - he could have not fought Voldemort in the Order to being with. They all had a choice, but not the point). Lily had a choice. And she chose, like many had before her, to fight what seemed like a losing battle. She died, not knowing that she had saved her son. Her sacrifice was meaningless - like so many before her - and yet her sacrifice changed the world.

In the end, by choosing to do what was right, she was granted the wish she most desired: Her son lived.

[adieutristana]

kissing headcanons / arcane women x fem! reader

summary: headcanons for what kissing arcane women would be like.

characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, lest.

tags/warnings: fluff, mentions of making out, mentions of poor mental health. could be suggestive in some spots.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is a very playful and spontaneous kisser. she’ll cut you off in the middle of a sentence just because she couldn’t resist, your lips are right there after all.

✧.* there’ll also be times she’ll just swing a leg over to sit in your lap and begin kissing you without warning. jinx is honestly the human embodiment of free will. if she wants a kiss, she’s gonna get a kiss.

✧.* honestly, it really depends how jinx is feeling when it comes to her kisses. when she’s happy to see you, she’ll leave a trail of kisses all over your face before ending on your lips. when she’s tired and feeling relaxed, her lips will softly brush yours as she hums.

✧.* when she’s upset or on the verge of an episode, she’ll kiss you deeply, hands firmly grabbing your top or shoulders just so she can be reassured that you’re actually there.

✧.* morning kisses with jinx. she’s usually up before you are, and most of the time, she’ll let you sleep. there is the odd occasion though where she’ll decide it’s too long of a wait, and she’ll wake you up by peppering kisses all over your face, giggling the whole time.

✧.* “g’mornin’ toots! i didn’t wake ya up, did i? oh, oops!”

✧.* there’s also the times when jinx wants to go slow. it’s not very often, usually preferring to plant her lips onto yours boldly. but there will be times when her lips gently capture yours, her tongue gently prodding at your lips for entrance. she savors these.

✧.* jinx loves when you brush her bangs to the side and kiss her forehead. it makes her freeze up for just a second every time, before she becomes visibly flushed (which is a rare occurrence.) she’ll deny it until she’s out of breath, but you think you’ve cracked the code.

✧.* “wh- i am not blushing! stop it!”

✧.* she doesn’t really talk during kisses, preferring to be present in the moment. she will tell you, very boldly, how much she wants to kiss you, though.

✧.* “can i get a kiss from my pretty girl? pleeeeaaase?”

vi;

✧.* vi is rough the majority of the time. she’ll thread her fingers through your hair or tug on your top, crashing her lips into yours desperately.

✧.* still, she can be soft when she wants to. usually when vi is physically exhausted, all she wants is to be close to you. she’ll gently place her calloused hands on your shoulders, leaning in ever so slowly to capture your lips in a kiss.

✧.* “mhm.. i’m fine, baby. just tired. i missed this.”

✧.* hair was briefly mentioned, but please put your hands in vi’s hair when kissing her. she will positively melt. putty in your hands.

✧.* as i’ve previously mentioned, vi isn’t the best at communicating her emotions, but she’ll kiss you to take the edge off. it’s a temporary stress relief, isn’t it? and she gets to be close to you. a win-win.

✧.* vi has been clearly upset or stressed more than once, trying to figure out how to verbalize those feelings before she just gives up and kisses you, putting her full body weight into it.

✧.* you can, at times, taste a bit of whisky while kissing vi. it’s one of the things that make her so unique, that smell coming off her just the slightest bit.

✧.* vi loves to hold you close to her while kissing. she’ll hold you flush to her chest, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other firmly gripping your hip. it makes her feel more secure, being so close to you.

✧.* vi loves to talk to you while kissing. little ‘i love you so fuckin much’s and ‘you’re perfect’ whispered against your lips, her voice low and smooth.

✧.* “look at you, just wanna kiss you so bad…”

✧.* vi would absolutely love if you kiss her wounds ‘better’ after patching her up. she’d act like it’s stupid and childish and she doesn’t like it, but you can see right through that.

✧.* it probably sounds weird, but i think vi would sometimes have her eyes slightly open while kissing you. yes, it’s a bit awkward, but she just wants to see you.

mel;

✧.* god help you, mel adores kissing. kissing, kissing, kissing.

✧.* if you like that, perfect! if not, too bad. and she’ll probably take it personally.

✧.* mel doesn’t do pda, but the second she has you behind closed doors, she’s ushering you to sit down so she can finally get her lips on yours.

✧.* mel will kiss your knuckles, she’ll kiss your temple, kiss you upon greeting and parting with you.

✧.* although as mentioned, mel doesn’t do pda, if there’s a time at a gala or conference where she’s simply overcome with the urge to kiss you, she’ll grab your wrist without warning to drag you into the next room and desperately kiss you.

✧.* “hush, they don’t matter. i just need to be with you right now.”

✧.* this woman needs no excuses, she just loves you so much and craves that contact.

✧.* you already know mel would leave so many lipstick marks on you. of course, if you’re going out, she’ll scramble to grab a rag and wipe the stains off your skin. but if it’s just the two of you for a while, she’d adore you wearing the marks for a little bit.

✧.* “you look just darling like that. who would’ve thought my lipstick would look so good on you?” she teases with a cheeky smile.

✧.* mel loves to take kissing slow. she doesn’t particularly care for chaste or brief kisses. she wants to take her time with you, enjoy you while you’re here.

✧.* so don’t rush her. if she feels like you’re trying to go too fast, she’ll let you know as much.

✧.* won’t talk during kisses, but she’ll lightly chuckle and hum into them. mel will make little noises to let you know that she’s enjoying herself.

sevika;

✧.* sevika is surprisingly pretty gentle most of the time. with you, the one she loves, she doesn’t want to hurt you. that’s not to say she won’t accidentally manhandle you, she’s very strong, after all.

✧.* of course, she can be rough when she’s feeling like it, and if you ask her to be a little more harsh, it’s like a switch flips.

✧.* sevika is a busy woman, so she doesn’t always have a lot of time to be attentive to you. when she does, though, believe she’s savoring every moment.

✧.* “i waited for this all day, yeah? come here.” she’d say, patting her thigh.

✧.* please sit in her lap. not only does sevika love holding you in general, but having you in her lap while kissing her will have her on cloud nine.

✧.* sevika will have one hand holding the back of your neck, her mechanical hand wrapped flush around your waist to keep you close to her, pressing long, hungry kisses to your lips.

✧.* on the flip side, sevika will lay beside you, her eyelids heavy of sleep and a calloused hand gently cupping your cheek. she’d lift your chin up to softly kiss you, letting out a relaxed sigh through her nose.

✧.* sevika not only talks to you while kissing you, but teases you.

✧.* “you’re this desperate for a little kiss, eh?” and “patience, hun. don’t worry your pretty little head, i’ll give you more.”

✧.* sevika just likes to see your cute reactions. whether that’s your eyes widening, your breath hitching, or you averting your gaze to try and hide your expression.

✧.* the latter of which, she won’t tolerate. she’d grab your chin and turn your face back to her. sevika wants to see you.

✧.* sevika would melt if you kissed her hands. she doesn’t know why, but it just feels so tender to her.

caitlyn;

✧.* she prefers long, lingering kisses. caitlyn usually does prefer to be in control while kissing you, though.

✧.* caitlyn will mostly only give you short kisses when upon greeting you and parting with you. otherwise, she likes to take her time with you.

✧.* call her pretty while kissing her. not only will it cause her to press into you further, but it gives her a good ego boost.

✧.* “caitlyn, you’re so beautiful, you know th-“ you mutter, before you’re cut off by caitlyn’s plush lips on yours.

✧.* caitlyn likes to have her hands on your waist while kissing you. there’s no particular rhyme or reason why, she just has her hands there. it also allows her to move you freely if she so wishes.

✧.* she’s a busy woman, but constantly stressed and has so much tension built up. poor girl, her shoulders and jaw are always so tense. but you’ve figured out that kissing you is a huge help when it comes to caitlyn releasing tension.

✧.* caitlyn would come home, visibly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to get some rest. before she opts to get ready for bed, though, she’ll come up behind you, turn you around, and begin slowly kissing you. kissing up your neck, landing on your lips and savoring the moment.

✧.* “long day, dear. forgive me if i was too forward.”

✧.* she’s not sorry at all, just trying to talk to you.

✧.* caitlyn is used to getting what she wants. of course she’ll never overstep your boundaries or do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but she’s very convincing. even if you’re not sure sneaking away from a council meeting to be swept off your feet by your girlfriend is a good idea, caitlyn has a way of looking at you. a look that says, ‘just trust me.’

✧.* caitlyn’s lips are very soft, and you can almost always taste some kind of strawberry or vanilla chapstick whilst kissing her.

✧.* caitlyn is also a big charmer. she’ll bring your knuckles to her lips, gently kissing them while looking you directly in the eyes.

✧.* “a charmer? you’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

lest

✧.* lest is also somebody who likes to take her time. it’s rare that she gets time to herself these days, so every moment she does get with her beloved, she wants to take full advantage of.

✧.* lest absolutely purrs into kisses. quite literally. you can tell that she’s enjoying herself because her lips will be on yours, both hands gently grasping your cheeks as she purrs deeply. it’s adorable, honestly.

✧.* she’s rather serious and stern on the surface, but you get to see the more playful side of her. lest purposely leaving lipstick marks on your face while wearing a smirk, giggling into kisses…

✧.* lest absolutely knows her way around relationships and kissing, so she’ll tell you exactly how she wants you to kiss her without fear.

✧.* “hold my shoulders. yes, love, like that. a kiss, then?”

✧.* lest would definitely take her scarf off just so she can use it to pull you into kisses. she finds your surprised reactions adorable, and the more you get used to it, the more she loves it. she’s grown to associate that scarf with you.

✧.* she likes to talk to you while kissing, as well. her voice is so low and soothing, it’s like you’re under a spell every time she opens her mouth.

✧.* “you’re beautiful… oh, stop. you flatter me. i’ll have to shut you up then, i suppose.”

✧.* lest doesn’t really have a preference as to control. she initiated the first few kisses, but she’ll gladly let you initiate them and take control every now and again. it’s nice to let go and relax, she trusts you.

✧.* sleepy kisses with lest. her job takes a lot out of her, being with customers all day, she’s usually drained by the time she’s finished. but nothing completes her day like crawling into bed with you, trailing kisses up your jawline and hearing your satisfied hums.

[loveandleases]

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.

[girlbowser]

part 3 was that rose was obama.

and that she created davebot as some kind of... (???) against ultdirk. i never was able to figure out exactly what davebot was meant to accomplish. but in the process of doing this, she killed candy!dave.

a semi-recent update basically confirmed this for me tbh.

you know. be more niceys to candy rose. after all, she RECENTLY TRAGICALLY LOST HER SIBLING TO MuRDER.

adfjhgsfkg.

there's more to this, like the obama stuff being an extension of rose being hussie, but that's only believable if you ALREADY believe part 1 of the theory. i do think rose is obama, i do think she had a part in davebot's creation. the davebot scene mirrors a moment in wizardy herbert, where herbert, exploring the moldy, vine-covered ancient remains of the white house, stumbles onto a soulless homunculus/robot of a red-colored figure (reaganbot in WH, davebot in the epilogues). it feels very rose to put an extremely weird and obscure reference to her mom's drunk teen novel (roxy is the canonical author of WH within homestuck's text) as she executes her plan/her brother.

to me, it seems very conspicuous that dave has not a single vision of rose. like, say if you were building a robot to fight an ultimate self, but you were also an ultimate self and didnt want to be conspired against. you wouldn't make this robot be ultimate. you'd *trick it into thinking it was.*

davebot isn't ultimate. aradia repeatedly surprises him, prompts him to explore his ultimate freedom, and expresses that he seems weirdly limited in his so-called perfect powers. and here, davebot witnesses all daves in all timelines -- and not a single one with rose.

if i was building a robot to destroy ultimate selves. i personally would give it Literally No Knowledge of my own ultimate self. i would intentionally leave that out of the data dump. i would make it so that when he is Seeing these streams of Light, he is NOT exposed to anything that could compromise my plans.

and then he dies. he doesn't die heroically or justly -- he dies.

the mechanic here is "ascended essence." it's the concept of dave's godhood itself. it's whatever directs the cosmic spotlight onto "daveness."

that corpse is not a god-tier. he did not die as one.

and that robot is NOT ultimate.

and rose is obama. and that was part 3 and also most of part 4. the rest of part 4 was gonna be going more into the aradia stuff and how she's repeatedly testing him and prodding to see if he is or isn't ultimate, both in the runs of hs2 and hsbc, and even in the 3 sentences they exchange in the epilogues directly. there's some fuckshit going on with these here strilondes and aradia is invested in getting to the bottom of it.

(i wrote an entire fanfic (NSFW) of her trying to investigate candy rose specifically, inspired by all of these theorizings. and then sam gabriel did a STUNNING podfic of it that you should all go listen to. anyway)

yeah.

like all of these theories sprouted in one night after the rosemary update. my friends went insane collectively. and then i said "and of course we KNOW gloves are canon" and they were like "emma what the FUCK are you talking about" and it was all history from there asdfjsgfkgdfg.

anyway yeah

going to go completely bugfuck insane for a little bit here. we need to talk about ultrose

Ultimate Rose, Pt. 1 (establishing facts)

so

ultrose is a fucking bundle of contradictions, huh?

i think its worth immediately establishing postcanon rose as a liar. specifically, there are a few crucial lies -- lies she tells herself as well -- that define the basis of ultrose. (im mostly going to be looking at candy timeline here, because meat ultrose is a whole other tin can of worms.)

the crucial scenes to compare are the last scene where she talks to john at the peak of the war, and the scene where she plays her hand in beyond canon.

i'm going to skip around this scene (candy 33), but stick with me.

this rose.

this rose right here. this rose who is happy. who loves her wife. who has *a* daughter.

this rose, as she herself describes.

is not "true."

rose firmly believes that knowledge means suffering. which, given the state of her body at the start of the prologue, probably feels deeply true! and her ailment disappearing coincides with her sight vanishing, and her knowledge of The Shape Of Postcanon slipping away. (candy 4)

"For some reason" "whatever it was she felt"

i think it's extremely important to establish here that rose wiped her own mind.

or maybe roxy wiped her mind. or the severing of meat/candy wiped her mind, but that last one feels very unlikely to me considering that this mind-wiped-state is at-will.

and we know that, because during the candy timeline, she is two things:

blind to the world

happy

and in beyond canon, this very same rose, days later, is:

too-aware, and in touch with her powers

deeply miserable

she stopped trying the moment the comic came back. she stopped trying because she never started. that was a whole ass different rose. one without the memories or powers.

if you'd allow me to be insane, i think i know which rose.

from ultdirk describing his experiences (with supplementary text from davepeta), we know what being ultimate is like. we understand that he has access to every splinter of himself, some more prominent than others.

so if rose is able to prioritize bringing one iteration of herself to the front of her mind... which rose would be the best?

which rose would be the happiest, the most pleased by living on earth c? the one blissed by love, the one who would be happy with a daughter and a wife.

it's not our main rose. she was not happy during her wedding. she didn't enjoy her life. she didn't think she'd ever be happy until after the meat/candy split happened.

you know who would have loved that?

what

what is this...... very very important thing doing here?

why is she "correcting" herself? why is she making this distinction? we haven't heard a word spoken about complacency of the learned, maybe at all, in the entire epilogues. and we know rose never really finished the story. it was just some amateur wizardfic.

but say there was another rose. a member of the gestalt, who actually DID finish writing complacency. who fought her whole life for the right to have a family, but ultimately failed.

say there was a rose who was an author.

yeah. i think the rose who gets to act out the bulk of the candy timeline (notably NOT yiffy. that was alllllllll ultrose) is alpha rose. roxy's mom. the one who fought the condesce and lost. and i think she's here simply because she's the best choice.

i mean, fuck, in hs2 rose straight up says it.

so . yeah. this is all establishing stuff for my Insane Theory. my real one about why shes doing all this. how shes doing all this. i have been sitting on this theory for months and if you thought "candy rose is alpha earth rose" is unhinged you aint seen nothing yet

gloves are canon

part 2 is here.

[planetpedri]

Ur so pretty — Jamal Musiala.

Pairing: Jamal Musiala x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jamal was your first love and with that came the fear of abandonment. But, Jamal was here to stay and he made sure you knew that.

Word count: 890+

Disclaimer/s: light angst , comfort , and mostly fluff !

A/N: this is my literal wife like im in love w him also listened to a lot of ‘ur so pretty’ by waisa project when i was writing this so. yeah.

When you and Jamal met for the first time, you were accompanying your friend on a double date. You weren’t looking for love or anything close to that but your friend was nervous and needed the comfort of your presence.

The problem lied in the fact that you had never dated before. Sure, you’d been on dates, but nothing had ever surpassed that singular date.

Jamal had swept you off your feet—literally. He wasn’t looking where he was going and tripped you. You’d nearly fallen on your face when he caught you, arms wrapping around your waist so he could hoist you back up.

The moment your eyes met you felt an unfamiliar warmth gather in the pit of your stomach, nerves rattling your body. He made you nervous in a weird way you’d never felt before.

It had taken two weeks for him to contact you again, and you were waiting.

Now, six and a half months later, you were dating—had been for four months now.

Sitting on the couch in his living room, you patiently waited for him to get home. He was training late today, so you’d opted for making dinner and sticking it in the fridge for him to heat up when he got home. The TV played a show you recently started; ‘Scandal’, which you were so engrossed in you didn’t realize Jamal had arrived.

He stood in the entry way, watching you curiously with a grin. He liked to watch you when you weren’t aware of him—not in a creepy way, he just loved to see you when you weren’t conscious of people and relaxed.

He’d been standing there for too long so he knew the second he spoke you’d spook. So instead he slips back out the door as quietly as possible, opening it and calling out for you, “i’m home!”

You turned around with a wide smile, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. “Hey! Hi, how was practice? Dinner is in the fridge!”

“Practice was fine, exhausted though. What’d you make?” Jamal asks, wondering into the kitchen where you meet him. He pulls you into a hug, pressing his lips to yours.

Smiling into the kiss, you mumble, “some healthy crap, your dietician would be very pleased with it.”

Jamal pulls away with a breathy laugh, “you can just make something we both like, i’ll just hit the gym extra hard later on.”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. I already made my own delicious food. That healthy stuff, that is only for you.”

Moving to the fridge you open it, taking out the food, and placing it on the counter. “You may heat it up while I make myself a smoothie.”

Jamal’s arms wrap around your waist, your back pressing against his as he places a few kisses on your shoulder. One thing about your boyfriend was that he was very affectionate. He hadn’t always been so touchy, but he made more of an effort when he learned about your doubts in your relationship.

Although those concerns had dwindled, he hadn’t strayed an inch. He comforted you with everything, he said the sweetest things. Essentially, he went above and beyond to prove that what he felt for you was not going away and time soon—if ever.

“Go make your food.” You giggle, wiggling out of his grasp. “I need my smoothie.”

“You and your smoothies.” Your boyfriend tittered. “Is it Strawberry or—“ You give him a look that has his lips twitching, “right. Why do I even bother asking.”

Reaching for strawberries in the freezer, you smirk. “Exactly. Have I ever told you how much I love and adore your full fridge and freezer? You always have everything.”

“Yeah, well, I try.”

As the microwave hums while heating up Jamal’s food, you prepare to make your smoothie. Conversations flow between the two of you even as he eats and the whirring of the blender—which you stop every few moments to add to the conversation.

“How’s your show? By the way?”

Your face lightens up, “so good. I’m on season two right now. When I finish the whole show, i’m forcing you to watch it.” Your finger points in his direction with a teasing tip of your lip.

Jamal’s eyebrows raise, “oh? Well, anything for you.” His words brings a prideful smile to your face.

“And this is why I love you!” You quip, your smug look falling the second you comprehend what you said. Too early. Too—

Jamal’s expression doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes flicker up to you. “I love you, too.”

Oh! Thats a comfort. Sort of?

“Was that too early? I should’ve waited.” You swallow thickly. You watch as he slips off the stool he was sitting on, wiping his hands on his pants, and walks around the counter to reach your side.

“It’s perfect timing, actually.” He assures, his hands cupping your jaw to pull you into a loving kiss. “I. Love. You.” He mumbles each time he pulled away.

A dreamy sigh leaves your lips, “you are so fortunately—for me, perfect.”

The taller man smiles, “and i’m so fortunately, your boyfriend.” Your heart grows three sizes as you meet his eyes. Any lingering doubt or insecurity you held about the future of your relationship died with that kiss and his words.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @joaoflms @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

[saltnsugarbear]

Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.” 

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

[fanofstuff01]

Sure, he could make him gone with just a snap of his fingers. But… Where’s the fun in that?

Lucifer: Adam, could you wait with Charlie in somewhere else?

Steve: OH YOU’RE FUCKING NOT!!!!!

Lucifer ignored him and waved his hand as if he was dealing with an ugly fly, Steve flew away for about 15 meters and went to the other side of the room with a scream.

Lucifer: Adam?

Adam: Wh-? Ooh. Of course.

He fully took Charlie in his arms.

Adam: Where are we going to go though? Bathroom-?

Lucifer opened a portal with a snap of his fingers and it gave away a little street, with another Charlie looked like a human kid.

Lucifer: Go wait me there? Please? While I deal with filth.

Steve gave distorted screams while they talked.

Adam smiled: Of course Luci.

He blew him a little kiss before walking out of the portal with cCharlie.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 @libby-for-life

DHORKS Captured The Devil Au

@fanofstuff01 @libby-for-life

Adam swiped his ID card as he entered his work facility for the day, he honestly was starting to hate this job but after a strong of bad luck he's grateful to even have one.

Even though the pay barely gets him by, his boss has been slacking on his benefits and insurance is barely anything.

Not to mention he's not sure if anyone here aside from Lute has a real name. All of the agents go by numbers. Probably just to save their identities.

Agent One: Ah! Adam! Just the man I needed to see, you've been reassigned to a new location.

Adam: ..... Wonderful. What am I guarding now?

He walked with the agent down a hall where they passed through many doors and security systems. When they got to the last one Adam couldn't believe his eyes.

Agent One: The literal Devil. Don't let his size fool you, he's a crafty one.

Adam: How the fuck did you manage that?

Agent One: That's classified information, officer Kadmon. Either Agent Two or I'll be back at the end of your shift.

And then he fucking left.

Adam sighed and stood at his post. Well this kinda blows.

Lucifer: Psst hey.

Adam turned to look at him and this guy didn't look like the devil.

Adam: What?

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x f!reader. another wonderful request that's been waiting far too long. blitzø walks in you during a private moment and is far too entertained to be convinced to leave. and what he offers you... can you say no in your current state? 1.5k.

or, simply, blitzø walks in on you masturbating.

featuring: masturbation, sex toys, voyuerism, a cocky blitzø, oral sex (f!receiving).

“Oh, fuck…” you groan, eyes rolling back behind their half-closed lids as you press the vibrator more firmly against your clit. It pulses in a way that makes your jaw clench, your hips rising off the mattress. “Fuuuck…”

You moan as you press the toy inside yourself, pumping it slowly so with each push it sinks another inch into your soaking cunt. You ache with the feeling of it, tilting it each time you pull it out to bump it against your clit again before fucking it into you again.

Your other hand ghosts your fingertips up over your hip, your stomach, coming up to squeeze your breast. You whimper as your palm grazes your nipple, biting your lip against another moan as you pinch it and tug, feeling it tighten and harden under your touch.

“Satan’s… fuck, Blitz…”

“Heh.” An obnoxious voice sounded from the other side of the room, and your eyes flash open. “I knew you wanted me.”

You shoot up, grabbing a pillow and shielding your body with it. Your whole body shudders despite your mortification as the vibrator still pulses inside you and it slips out onto the sheets between your thighs, the vibrations obvious and loud against the sheets. “Blitz! What the—the fuck are you doing in here?”

The imp smirks from where he stands leaning cockily against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. His tail curls and unfurls, whipping behind him almost predatorily. “You called me in here.”

“Not in my— my house, Blitz,” you snap, your face stained dark with your embarrassment. You hug the pillow tighter against yourself, one arm banded around it to hide your chest, the other pressing the corner of it down between your thighs. Even feeling the dull sensations of the vibrations on the mattress beneath you is enough to make you quiver. Or maybe that’s… fuck, he’s still staring at you. “What are you doing in my house?”

He shrugs a shoulder, glowing eyes still set on you with a tingling intensity. “Got bored. Thought we’d watch a movie. Didn’t know I was gonna get a live show.”

“How’d you even—” you break off, pointing a hand towards the door over his shoulder imperiously. “I don’t care, just… for the love of Satan, please. Get. Out.”

Blitzø’s smile widens, his eyes falling to where the pillow had wilted, to where your nipple peeks out from behind the plush cushion. You don’t notice immediately, and Blitzø has the audacity to move further into the room. “Is that what you want?”

The tone of his voice drops into something huskier, teasing… and it’s enough to make your breath hitch. You can feel your thighs are slick with your own cum, and even without the vibrator against your clit, your excitement hasn’t waned. If anything, the tingling that runs down your back and lingers in your breasts makes you bite your lip.

Your words come shakily, and you curse yourself for it. “Wh-what are you… talking about?”

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” he asks you tauntingly, still approaching the bed. His tail switches back and forth behind him slowly. “Preeeeetty sure you were just beggin’ for my help…”

“Blitz…” you mean it warningly, you do, but your voice is too breathless to be convincing. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he continues, planting his hands on the edge of the bed and leaning towards you. “Don’t ya want me to show ya just how good the fantasy is as a real fuckin’ technicolour fuck?”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

Blitzø jumps up onto the bed, crawls towards you. If possible, your face flushes further as he pauses to pick up the toy still dancing against the sheets. He holds it up beside his face, tongue darting out teasingly as though to lick it. “Ugh, Blitz—!”

He snickers, turning it off and tossing it aside. It lands with a dull thump on the other side of the bed. “Stop panickin’, tits. I prefer it right from the source.”

Blitzø runs his hands up your bare calves, takes hold of your knees and pushes them wider apart from where they’re still clenched around the pillow. You catch his smirk in the moment he leans forward, and without thinking, you reach up and wrap your hand around the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.

He grins against your lips, tongue sliding eagerly into your mouth to meet yours. You whine into his kiss, feel his teeth graze your bottom lip for a second before he sucks it gently, pressing his forehead against yours long enough for you both to catch your breath. Then his mouth is on yours again, swallowing the sound of surprise you make when he tugs the pillow out from between the two of you.

He urges you onto your back, laying you out completely bare beneath him. You feel his hand take hold of your hip, his claws digging into the flesh there firmly enough for them to prick your skin. He lets the kiss linger until you whimper into it, your body arching up off the sheets damp with your cum.

He pulls back with a cocksure grin curving his lips. “Just how often do ya think about me when you play with yourself?”

You snake a hand between the two of you to squeeze the bulge between his legs. Blitzø groans, eyes rolling back, and he ruts himself against your palm. “Same question, B.”

He snickers, kissing you again before lowering himself down your naked form, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your heated skin. You moan as his lips and tongue find your breasts, first one, then the other, lingering long enough to suck bruises into the soft, supple flesh. He grazes the point of a fang over the tender point of your nipple and your body jolts, a breathless, surprised little “haaah” escaping you.

He grins at your reaction, hand smoothing down the outside of your thigh as he smacks a loud, childish kiss against your sternum. Blitzø continues his path down your body, inhaling deeply when he reaches the apex of your thighs.

“Fuck…” he mutters, his breath tickling against your wet flesh. He doesn’t give you a chance to formulate a response; burying his face between your thighs and sliding his tongue against your cunt. The groan he lets out at the taste of you echoes your moan, your head falling back against the pillows. Blitzø hooks his hand under your thigh and hooks it over his shoulder, rolling his tongue against your clit hungrily. “Fuck, you taste like pure fucking… sex…”

You clutch at his horns with both hands, pushing your hips up to meet his mouth. Blitzø grins into your cunt as he lets you fuck his face, flicking his tongue over your clit again before sliding his it deep into your quivering pussy.

“Oh, shit, Blitz!” your voice is torn and broken with need, and he rewards the sound by touching two fingers to your clit. He teases it in tandem with the way he fucks you with his tongue, and your eyes roll back, your body tensing against the feeling of it. “Fuck, that’s— ohhh…”

Blitzø quickens his pace and you keen, fingers digging into the keratin of his horns as you cum against his mouth. He withdraws his tongue from your cunt only to return it to your clit, both hands grasping a firm hold of your hips, forcing them down against the mattress. He holds you in place and your upper body lifts, curling forward at the never-ending assault he gives your clit.

Blitzø doesn’t let up until there are tears burning in your eyes and you’re begging him to stop, tugging hard at his horns in the hope of easing the tension that keeps winding up and snapping inside you. Blitzø laughs into your cunt and even that is too much, and you squeeze your thighs so tight around his face he has to force your legs apart again.

The imp licks his lips, wipes his mouth with his sleeve as he crawls back up your body. The cocky grin is back, and he braces himself up over you. He presses his hips teasingly forward, and even the brush of his clothed erection against your over-sensitised cunt makes you twitch.

“And that,” Blitzø says, watching with a smirk as you try to steady your breath. “Is why I don’t knock.”

You manage to scoff, rolling your eyes. You shove at his chest, and he laughs again. “That is not the lesson here.”

“No?” he arches a brow, and you hear him fumble one-handed with the front of his pants. “Pretty sure it is.”

“Pretty sure it’s not, Bli—” you break off with another moan as he suddenly slides his cock up between your thighs. “Damn it, Blitz… fuck…”

“You wanna try and convince me otherwise?” he asks teasingly, rocking his hips until the head of his cock just presses into your cunt. Your hips rise reflexively, and you whine as the movement draws him a few inches deeper. Blitzø moans, face falling against your shoulder for a moment. He pulls back again, corkscrewing his hips slowly, slowly into yours. “You might wanna do it without moaning, tits.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday fill for @oldestmummyintheworld: the Last Son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon.

“Not exactly,” he replies with a wry smile, resisting the urge to touch Kon again–pat his back or shoulder in reassurance, or just to offer support. He wants to comfort the kid if he needs it, but he also doesn’t want to be overfamiliar and make him a different kind of uncomfortable with him by presuming too much or just through the disconnect of whatever differences there must be between Kon’s version of him and himself, minor or major. “More like a reality where their next generation has an extra member in it. This is Kon-El.” 

“Wh–oh!” Dinah exclaims in surprise, her eyes widening. “But I thought you–!” 

“Seriously?!” Hal demands. “He looks exactly like you, did alt-you just hit ‘redo’ on your birthing matrix thing?!”

[decoy-sammy]

OKAY ACTUALLY YES. THAT'S SO GOOD.👀👀👀

POSSIBLE TOO TBH.

---

M: Alright, Decepticons, we ride at dawn- *Noticing the seeker for some reason standing next to Soundwave* Who in the _fuck_ are _you_?

S: I'm your second-in-command.

M*perplexed, looking at Soundwave for assurance on what the heck this is about*: No? Wh-

S: I am _your second-in-command._

M: I.. Don't know who you are and, uh, we got a war to win, so, either get back to where your place is or I will have no choice but to punish you.

S: What will punishing your second-in-command achieve? You need me for your strategies, do you not, _Lord_ Megatron?

M: ???????

SW: Soundwave: Tried removing the seeker. Attempt no.98: Failure.

M: ....

S: As you were saying, Megatron, we have a war to win, correct? Perhaps best we stop this useless talk, hm? :]

M: ...

SW: Soundwave: Not sure how he keeps coming back. Recommendation:...Keep him under surveillance for now.

M: Oh... Uhm...*Cough cough* Okay.. Well if.. If you say so, Soundwave.. And, uh, what's.. your designation?

S: Starscream, your second-in-command. :]

are we sure G1 starscream is actually megatron's second in command. is it possible he just showed up one day and megatron can't get rid of him.

[kaybug88]

Dabi x Pro! Reader

Based on HEARTBEAT by Isabel LaRosa 

TW: Angsty (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong ;-;), Suggestive themes at beginning, mentions of blood

Requested? Nope! WC: 1.6k

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Being with him was painful. He loved you, you loved him, but it would never work. The most wanted Villain in Japan and one of the top pros, it's laughable. It was a back-and-forth battle between finding the courage to stop things and waking up in his bed the next morning with clothes scattered on the floor.

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

“We can't keep going back and forth like this, Dabi. . .”

You say with panted breath as he pulls away from your puffy lips. His normally cerulean blue eyes clouded with lust, and a clear frustration. You two almost got caught. . . again . . . Just mere hours ago, he had to shove you behind him when Toga came skipping into his room, asking what he wanted to eat.

-

“Kurogiri is getting us some food! What do you want?” 

She had said in a sing-song voice.

Only thing he wanted, and planned to eat tonight was you.

But he’d never say that to anyone besides you.

He had eventually got her to go away, telling the blonde he wasn't hungry.

Well, not for actual food anyway.

-

“What do you mean?”

He said with a hint of annoyance, lips parted and breathing coming out in heavy pants. The way he looked down on you was almost scary, but so delightful at the same time.

“You know wh-”

You had tried before he cut you off with another hunger filled kiss, he was acting as though he was a starved man, and your lips were his final meal. He eventually pulled away; brows furrowed in frustration.

“No. No I don't. Last time I checked, as much as I don’t want to say it, you love me, and I love you. Why do you want this to stop?”

He asked with clear frustration. He was right though. You love each other, and both of you hate it, even if you wouldn't admit either. You both have this burning desire for one another, and not just for casual hookups.

“You hate it that you love me, love me, love me.”

You feel his heartbeat speed up, pounding on his rib cage, almost as if his heart had grown a mind of its own and ached to be free.

“I think you do, though. . . I'm a pro, and you're a Villain. . . It won't work, and even if it does, I- we cou-”

You're cut off with a gasp as he roughly bites your neck, small amounts of blood oozing from where he bit, his tongue licking the metallic tasting liquid as if it was sweet nectar.

“I don't care about that right now. I need to know why you suddenly don’t want to be mine, for me to be yours.”

“We don't talk about it, but we know that you're mine.”

“I never said that. . . It's just. . .”

“Just what? Just what is it?”

He said in a slight outburst. He almost seemed. . . nervous, like he didn't want to lose you.

As for what he was feeling, this was a sudden outburst of nervousness he never wanted you to see. He hated feeling nervous, he thought being nervous was weak, but for you? He was beyond scared you'd try to leave him. He had learned to love again for you. It wouldn't matter If you didn't want to be with him anyway, he'd tear apart the world just to find you again.

You both were scared of what would happen if your relationship was put into the open.

“It's okay, you're nervous, it's obvious and you can't hide.”

“I'm scared, okay! I'm scared other pros will find out about us, they'll throw you in Tartarus, and they'll throw me in there with you!”

You replied in an outburst.

It was the truth.

If you weren't so nervous of people finding out about you two, you'd selfishly keep him for yourself, letting others know you have him wrapped around your finger.

You two were getting too close, and things were getting increasingly dangerous to try and see each other.

You both have been idiotic, especially the times he liked to watch you during patrols. If he was feeling reckless, he'd purposefully stand in places he knew you'd go by, just so you two can talk.

“We're too close, I should go.”

But no matter how dangerous things have been getting to see one another, you'd never want to stop. Neither of you did, no matter how hard it was to love each other.

“Don't let me drive home.”

He doesn't say anything after your exclamation of how scared you were to be caught, instead he lowers his lips onto yours.

The kiss isn't as hungry anymore. The soft movements each say their own things, and you understand just how nervous he is too. The kiss whispers things to you, you sending your own unspoken words to him as your lips move against each other.

You simply loved how he could kiss you like this; soft, loving, and nothing less than undevoted care, and how he could kiss you like a starved man. If he could, which he absolutely would, you'd let him take your very soul. As much as he was yours, you were his, and you were more than happy for it to be that way.

“Take my soul, need control, now that we're alone.”

During the slow kiss, his heartbeat slows. His heartbeat whispers its own things to you. Even though he isn't one to say words such as ‘I love you's’ often, he still did and made up for those missed words in times like these. 

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

Loving each other was beyond frustrating. Especially for him. Sometimes he hated How unbelievably in love he was with you. He couldn't stand how if you called him, asking to simply speak, he'd drop the very thing he was doing to accompany your every need.

“You hate it that you love me, love me, love me.”

He was so unbelievably in love with you- down right obsessed with you, it was obvious. The League had, and will continue to, accuse him of finding someone to love, demanding they meet her, unknowingly meet you. He knows they can't, because God forbid the hellish wrath that would unleash if they found he was dating a pro hero.

“Obsessive, you look closely, but I like that.”

You know he's obsessed with you, know he'd tear the world apart simply to find, and ravish you. Hell, he'd set this world up in his memorizing blue flames if you even suggested it.

He's not afraid to show it either. More times than you can count has he wrapped his long, rough fingers around your wrist, telling you your his, and how he'd kill anyone who dared to even think about laying a finger on you that isn’t himself.

“Possessive, you're not mine, but you imply that.”

Even though he was possessive as he is, it doesn't mean he isn’t yours. 

He begins to kiss slowly along your jawline after moving away from your lips. He makes his way from your jaw to your nose, to your forehead, and then back around to your lips, leaving a fiery feeling in his wake.

“We're too close, I should go.”

You don't mind times like these. In fact, you cherish them to the utmost degree. They remind you that you're loved, they show you your villain boyfriend can be as soft as any other person. These close times are soft and loving, and you couldn't wish for more.

“Don't let me drive home.”

Sometimes you wish you could stay like this forever, your soft lips against his chapped ones, moving in a synchronized harmony. Even though he preferred the time things were desirable, rushed, and lustful, he loved these times just as much.

He loved the times like these, times like these were what reminded him of a loving touch the soft kisses he missed from growing up. He loved times like these where you had taught him it's okay to feel upset, to feel love.

“Take my soul, need control, now that we're alone.”

He presses one last long, soul overpowering kiss to your lips. The kiss has desire, but the kind that's adoration and care filled. Once he brings his lips away from your own, he places his forehead on your own, lips parted and eyes closed as you sit in a comfortable silence, the only audible thing is the breathing coming from the two of you.

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

You had gone from  rushed, lustful and hunger filled emotions to this. To  soft, caring, and love filled soft breaths exchanged between you two.

“You hate It that you love me, love me, love me.”

Sometimes, more times than not, it was hard to love one another. Hard to keep things secret, hard to see each other while you were working with other pros.

But you both managed.

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

Heartbeats and breaths slowed while you sit in each other's presence. The air isn't as hot and stuffy as before, now it's almost soft, easy to breathe in.

You could get used to this. Sure, you loved your work and didn't fully approve of the way Dabi did things, but you could live like this, in this moment.

“You hate it that you love me, love me, love me.”

You can't help but think to yourself as he grumbles against your neck, his breathing slowed, and lust nearly gone from his eyes, replaced by complete adoration before his eyes flutter shut after opening just to look at your eyes, just as love filled. You smile softly to yourself before drifting to sleep with him. Tomorrow won't be like this, and you don't expect any days soon to be like this, but you could live with that.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

AN; So, this was my first, ever, post worthy work! What do you think? I know, I know, it’s pretty cringe and repetitive from the song, but I feel like it’s a start. If you have any suggestions on what to do differently in future works, please, please, let me know!

[storytowrite]

|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 15

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 2990

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

——————————

The trip lasted about two hours. Throughout this time, you were strapped down and immobilized in the passenger seat, while Minho was focused on the road. Although your body felt excitement, you began to have some concerns. You weren't sure what to expect from the man who had actually kidnapped you. And he did it with your consent, after all, you got into his car yourself.

“We've arrived, kitten.” Minho's voice suddenly broke the silence that had prevailed the entire way. 

“Where are we?” You asked, rubbing your wrists as the man untied your hands. You sat up slowly and looked out the window. 

Minho had stopped the car in a nice courtyard right in front of a fairly large wooden house. There was nothing around except the forest that surrounded the whole area. You trembled slightly. You liked it less and less. 

“You'll be safe here.” Minho said and got out of the car, then opened the passenger door and shook your hand.” Come in, I'll show you your new home.” He smiled broadly at you. 

“Wh-what? No, Minho don't joke around like that, okay? It's not much fun... I want to go home.” You said, looking around panicked. 

“As I told you, here is your new home, kitten. With me. Come on. Get out and do what I say before I run out of patience.” He said firmly. 

You obediently got out of the vehicle, trembling slightly in fear. You looked at him uncertainly not knowing what to expect. Minho turned around and started toward the house. You sighed heavily and moved after him. You knew that until you figured out some way to get away from him, you would have to play along as he told you to. 

As you crossed the threshold of the house, you swallowed your saliva loudly. The interior of the house was upholstered in light wood, contrasted by black furniture with gold accessories. It definitely did not look like an ordinary cabin in the woods. Until you were stunned. You stopped in the middle of the spacious living room looking around the room.

“Do you like it?” Minho asked, but didn't expect an answer. “Hungry? I'll make dinner.” 

“Minho... where do you get the money for all this? It's like you're an ordinary lecturer...” You started but he interrupted you in mid-sentence. 

“I invited you to my house, and all you think about is money, kitten?” He asked disapprovingly and stammered. “You shouldn't ask such questions. It's not nice to ask how much or where someone has money, you know?”

“Sorry.” You replied, quickly lowering your head and sticking your gaze into your shoes. 

“But...” He walked over to you and with his index finger lifted your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. “I wouldn't know how to be angry with you, kitten, you know? I'll answer your question. In addition to teaching at the university, I'm involved in, um... how shall I say it? Ah yes! You could say I'm a collector of sorts.” He smiled at you and leaned gently over you. “And I collect not only beautiful objects.” He whispered in your ear, and ran your lips gently over his petal, at which you quietly sighed. “I collect many things. And you, you are my most important trophy.”

“I am not an object.” You said, and your voice trembled softly. You stepped back slightly while watching him. You took a few steps back, but Minho walked slowly toward you, smiling nonchalantly.

Your back encountered an obstacle - a glass door leading to the garden. You felt their coldness on your body and immediately winced. You wanted to take half a step forward, but Minho was already leaning over you. His hands were on both sides of your head. Even though the height difference between you was small, you felt really small.

Minho smiled at you slightly. He knew exactly what you must be feeling. He was enjoying this moment. He liked the emotions he was causing in you. He saw a mixture of excitement and fear in your eyes. And even if you denied it, he was definitely aware of the effect he was having on you.

"What are you going to do with me now?" You asked quietly. You knew there was no chance of escape. You looked into his eyes, which cost you a lot. Fear slowly began to take over your body.

"I'll rape you and kill you." He whispered in your ear and kissed you gently on the cheek, then pulled away with a quiet laugh. “I already told you, kitten, I won’t hurt you. You’re important to me.”

“Important people don’t get taken out into the middle of the forest against their will!” You suddenly shouted in a surge of adrenaline, and your voice was full of conflicting emotions.

“You can scream as much as you want, kitten. No one will hear you here anyway.” Minho shrugged. “You’re safe here… And only with me. Just as it should be. I already told you, you don’t need anyone but me.”

“I’m not your fucking property!” Anger began to take hold of you. “I want to go home! You’re fucked up!”

“Hm…” Minho tilted his head slightly, looking at you. “No.” He replied shortly. “Although you’re right, you’re not a thing. But you belong to me and nothing will change that, kitten. We’ll always be together, you know?” He pushed the unruly locks behind your ear. “And you can resist as much as you want, but it won’t change anything.”

“I want. To. Go. Home.” You insisted, your anger growing weaker and weaker.

“And I want a star from the sky! We all want something Y/N. I already told you, this is your home. Why aren't you even listening to me, huh? You’re mine now. My most important trophy that I have to protect!” His voice was getting more and more nervous.

“Protect? What the fuck are you trying to protect me from, huh? The only person I need protection from is you! You fucking kidnapped me! And you took me to god knows where!” You growled.

“I didn't force you to do anything, kitten. You got in my car of your own free will. I said I'd take you home. I didn't say whose. You didn't ask anyway." He replied calmly and shrugged.

"I didn't even think you wouldn't take me to my apartment Minho! You're some kind of a fucking psychopath!"

"Call me whatever you want kitten, after all you didn't specify what you wanted, not me." He replied nonchalantly. "You're probably hungry, huh? If you weren't you wouldn't be screaming like that. Eh... Sit down in the living room or explore the house. You won't get very far anyway. Oh and one more thing..." He pulled your phone out of your pants pocket. "You won't need this anymore." He winked at you, then broke the device in half, threw it on the floor and stomped on it.

You looked at the remains of your phone. Tears welled up in your eyes. You knelt on the floor and started to pick up what was left of the device. You felt bad. Lee Minho, the man you met a few months ago in the club turned out to be a completely different person than you imagined. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as he bustled around the kitchen. You were afraid of him and at the same time you felt the hopelessness of the whole situation. Alone with HIM in the forest. Without a phone. Without the possibility of contact with anyone close to you. You didn't know what to do with yourself, or what awaited you. Only Minho knew what he would do to you. And that was what you feared the most.

Minho, on the other hand, was pleased with himself. He knew that you were afraid of him and he understood you to some extent. In your place, he would probably be distrustful too. However, he didn't care that much about what you felt. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him. He wanted to keep you as close to him as possible and forever, and he knew that he would do everything to fulfill that desire.

"Dinner's ready." He said, placing a warm meal on the table. He glanced at you, still kneeling on the floor over the broken phone. “Y/N, come on, it's getting cold.”

But you didn't react to his call. You stared at the shattered device and tried to think of a way to escape.

“Hello, earth to Y/N!” Minho approached you. “I said dinner's ready. Come on in. Before I start getting nasty.”

“I'm not hungry.” You mumbled. “I want to go home, please.”

“I already told you this kitten, why don't you listen to me? You're home. Your home is where I am. Now I invite you politely to the table.” He said in a tone that didn't tolerate any argument, staring at you. You swallowed hard but followed his command. You sat down at the table and took a fork in your hand. “Enjoy.”

You started eating. Although you had no appetite, you ate what Minho gave you because you were afraid of his reaction if you accidentally disobeyed him.

“I'll show you around the house after dinner.” Minho suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.

“Okay…” You nodded. You knew that for now you had no choice and had to do what Minho told you. Otherwise it could end badly for you. You quickly ate your meal. Minho put the dirty dishes in the sink and walked over to you.

“Come on.” He said shortly and headed towards the stairs.

The house you were in had two floors. Downstairs there was a huge kitchen in a modern design, connected to the living room and dining room, all in an open space. In the living room there was a huge, black, leather couch, similar to the one Minho had in his apartment in the city center. There was a large TV hanging on the wall, and right next to it was a door leading to the garden.

The upper floor was decorated in a similar way to the living room. Upstairs there were four bedrooms and a study, which Minho immediately forbade you from entering. Each bedroom had a bathroom with a shower. In the master bedroom, apart from a huge bed with black satin sheets, there was a spacious wardrobe. In the bathroom, apart from the glass shower, there was a deep bathtub in the middle. On the counter against one of the walls were two sinks and a lot of cosmetics.

You hadn't noticed before that both the wardrobe and the bathroom were fully equipped. It looked as if Minho had been planning your move to this house for a long time. However, you didn't dare to ask him about it. You were afraid of what kind of answer you might get.

When you had already walked around the entire apartment, you went back down to the living room, Minho sat down on the leather couch and looked at you. His attitude was extremely nonchalant. Two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned from the top. Even though you were afraid of Minho, you had to admit that his attitude and appearance impressed you.

“Okay, kitten.” He began, looking at you standing in front of him. “We need to establish some rules in this house. First, you have to listen to me. You are not allowed to go into the study upstairs and you are not allowed to leave the house. Besides, even if you tried, you will not succeed. There is nothing around, there is only the forest. Second, you can of course walk around the house and garden, but the garage is off limits to you. And third and most importantly, from today you belong to me. If I decide that you are a good enough girl, I will get you a phone… maybe you will get a computer in some time.”

“And what am I supposed to do here?” You asked, annoyed. “Wait for you like a faithful dog? You are psychotic! I want to go back to my apartment!”

“Kitten, apart from me you have nothing. This is your apartment now, whether you like it or not.” He replied calmly.

“You can't keep me here for the rest of my life. What about my studies? What about my family? And friends? They'll be looking for me!"

"And they'll find a dead body. It will be so massacred that they won't even think it could be anyone else." He replied unfazed, making you shiver. “Kitten, I've already arranged everything. You don't have to worry about anything. Your loved ones, well... they'll forget about you quickly. And as for your studies. What do you need them for when I'm your professor anyway? You're homeschooled."

"That's not how it works, Minho. I need to have contact with others. I can't sit around and do nothing all my life because that's what you want. And what if you get bored with me? Will you get rid of me like you did with Rheena?"

"Rheena, ah yes... Well, luckily you're not Rheena. Your luck, of course." He winked at you. "Rheena deserved what happened to her. But you don't have to worry, kitty, I won't hurt you, which I think I've already mentioned. You have a really bad memory and you don't listen to what I say... I think I'll have to teach you some lessons."

"I don't think I need your lessons. I don't know what sick game you're playing, but that's not right, Minho. Please, let me out and let's forget about this, okay? I won't tell anyone, I promise you." You didn't give up.

"Hm... no. I won't believe any of your promises, kitten. Besides, you already gave me up to the police once, right? I don't want it to happen again. Now, come to me."

You swallowed hard, but approached the man. For now, you decided to follow his orders and in the meantime figure out a way to escape. Minho looked you in the eye and pulled you onto him. You landed on his lap.

"Perfect." He smiled slightly. "Like I said... I have to teach you a lesson." He added and suddenly put you on his lap.

"Minho, what are you doing?" You asked, surprised.

“I’m teaching you how not to behave. Any disobedience will be punished.” His hand landed with a force on your right buttock. You let out a surprised cry. You didn’t have time to say anything when you were hit in the other buttock.

Minho gave five hard slaps on both of your buttocks. With each subsequent one you let out louder and louder cries. You didn't want to admit it, but the man's slaps caused a slight arousal.

Lee Know knew it perfectly well. He knew your body better than his own. He knew what he had to do to arouse you, without too much effort. And that was what he wanted. He gently massaged your buttocks, then moved his hand between your thighs, at which you let out a quiet sigh.

He began to rub your sensitive spot through the material of your shorts. Your breathing quickened, the more pressure he put on. You began to moan quietly. Minho took his time. He relished your voice. He began to gently make circles, then pressed lightly on your shell, making you moan even louder.

He felt the material of your pants getting wetter and wetter. He smiled slightly to himself. He laid you down on the couch and stood over you. He took off your pants and panties, and then looking you straight in the eye, he inserted a finger into you, which he began to gently move. All flushed, you began to writhe under him and sigh louder and louder. Minho watched your reaction carefully. After a moment, he added another finger, and pressed his thumb on your button. In response to the sudden stimulation, you moaned loudly. Minho didn't take his eyes off you.

Your lips were parted and your eyes were half-closed. You were all flushed and you were letting out louder and louder moans of pleasure. Minho was proud of himself, he almost brought you to the peak. However, as soon as he noticed that your orgasm was approaching with great strides, he stopped all movements. He pulled his fingers out of you and licked them, watching with a slightly mocking smile as irritation appeared on your face.

"You're cute, you know that?" He asked, slightly amused.

"Why?" You asked, surprised and irritated. “Minho, I was close.”

“I know, kitty.” He smiled. “But you haven’t been a good kitten lately.”

“But I was close… I can handle it myself.” You were already reaching out to finish what Minho didn’t want.

“Oh, you’re not allowed.” He grabbed your wrist tightly. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself without my permission, is that clear? Be good and you’ll get what you want, okay?” Saying that, he pierced you with his cold gaze that always made goosebumps rise on your body.

“Y-yes…” You agreed and looked away.

“Great, kitten.” Minho smiled widely. “Now, go take a shower. It’s been a long day, don’t you think?”

“O-okay.” You listened to the man and went to the shower, where you were lost in thought.

Maybe it won’t be so bad? You thought, standing under the stream of warm water. You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but you missed his touch, but the thought of it made you very uneasy. Your mind was saying one thing, and your heart was telling you something else. You weren't sure if you really wanted to run away from him. And that was what you feared the most.

——————————

<- Part 14 | Part 16->

-> Series Masterlist

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict, @syedazarintasnim, @palindrome969, @biujulia @inlovewithstraykids

[dreamtheatre]

Say Don't Go (Part Two)

Pairing: Hunter (TBB) x Jedi!Fem!Reader Summary: After Hunter's chip is removed, he realises what he has done to you. Word Count: 2.4K Warnings: angst, descriptions of injury, not proofread sorry

Were you dead? Honestly, you couldn’t tell. There was a long, long moment where you couldn’t feel anything… you couldn’t see, you couldn’t smell - all your senses had disappeared. You didn’t know how long you had been stuck in the void, it could have been forever or just a few moments, but it felt as if you had never been anywhere else.

The first thing you felt when everything started to clear was the weight of someone’s hand in yours. There was the muffled sound of some sort of machine beeping periodically, and someone talking. It was all hard to work out, though. The constant throbbing of your wounds and the sound of your irregular heartbeat took over everything else.

Instinctively, you squeezed whoever’s hand was in yours, and you swore you could hear a sharp intake of breath over everything else. Your eyes wouldn’t open, so you attempted to delve into the force, ignoring how much it drained your energy to figure out who it was.

“Who’s there?”

Again, you could hear whoever it was speaking to you, but it was all muffled, so you tried to ask through the force again, feeling yourself drifting off into the void again, but you managed to hear their answer before leaving.

“Talk to me through your thoughts… I can hear you.”

“…Mesh’la?”

“Hunter?”

Before she could say anything else, the darkness caught up to her, and she was thrust back into the void.

Third Person POV, Two Weeks Prior

When Hunter had woken up, he groaned at the feeling of bruises all across his body. He felt the familiar texture of the slightly hard mattress of his bunk beneath him, and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding as he groggily opened his eyes. There was a slight aching in the side of his temple, but other than that he didn’t feel that bad. Something wasn’t fitting right in his heart, though.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The familiar voice of Tech reached Hunter, who sat up slowly on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Hunter shrugged as he lifted an arm in an attempt to figure out what exactly the weird feeling was in his chest. It was some sort of dull ache, but even as he slowly rubbed at the area through his blacks, he couldn’t seem to make it go away. “What happened?”

Tech stopped suddenly as he turned around to face him. “You don’t… remember?”

“Remember what?” Hunter narrowed his eyes as he dropped his hand and glanced at Echo, Wrecker, and Crosshair, who entered the smaller room all at once. Echo raised an eyebrow, Wrecker crossed his arms, and Crosshair looked snidely in his direction. Hunter frowned. Did he do something? Deciding to change the topic, he coughed to clear his throat. “Where’s Omega?”

The rest of the Batch glanced around, seeming to want to look anywhere but at Hunter. Eventually, Crosshair shook his head in exasperation as he looked Hunter up and down. “She’s with her.” The sharpshooter said in an almost accusing manner. “Di’kut.”

“With her?” Hunter repeated, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “With who? Wh-” All of a sudden Hunter felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head as his blood turned cold with realisation. The pain in his chest suddenly burned a thousand times more than it was, and he felt as if his airway was being constricted as his lungs began to starve for air. Everything around him started to blur, including his brothers and the sound of one of their concerned voices as he pushed himself up from his bunk, ignoring the others’ protests as he stumbled his way down the corridor. He heard his brothers telling him to stop, but he couldn’t. His legs were moving on their own to reach you as fast as he could.

When he finally skidded into the med-bay, his heart nearly stopped all over again when he say you. You were deathly pale, cheeks slightly hollowed in and you arms falling limp at either side of your body. There was a new scar across one of your cheeks, that he knew he had caused. The only indication that you were still alive was the screen monitoring your heartbeat, and even that line was barely moving.

He felt like time had stopped around him as the thumping of his heartbeat and a slight muffled ringing began to fill his ears, everything stopping until a sudden blur of movement pulled his attention from you.

When Omega turned and spotted him, she didn’t even look remotely happy. Instead, she quickly reached down to the ground next to her and picked up the Zygerrian energy bow that she had stolen, drawing back a bolt and aiming directly at him. Hunter slowly put his hands up, chest heaving as Omega’s words swam through the sea of his panic and despair to be comprehended in his brain.

“I won’t let you hurt her again.”

Again.

Hunter felt that delicate thing that had been pounding against his chest suddenly snap as he saw the resolve on his blonde sister’s face. His eyes flickered back to your unmoving body and before he had to tear his eyes away and meet Omega’s amber ones.

“I-” Hunter croaked pleadingly. “Omega-”

“Omega, it’s okay,” Tech and the rest of the Batch finally made it to the med-bay. And Hunter felt a hand on his shoulder, probably Wrecker. “He’s safe.” Slowly, Omega lowered her bow and dropped it to the floor with a clatter as she bolted up to him, wrapping her arms around his legs and crushing them so tightly Hunter thought he was going to fall over. However, Hunter slowly bent down to wrap his arms around her, mumbling an endless stream of apologies as his regret and fear threatened to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry kid,” he sighed, his eyes darting all over the room as he willed them to land anywhere but where you where. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Omega told him fiercely, “It’s the Empire’s.” Hunter felt a shiver run down his spine at the mention of the name. There was a quiet silence that was only filled by the shuffling of his brothers as they slowly backed out of the room, opting to give Hunter privacy with Omega and you. “I… you weren’t here. For a while. And someone had to watch over her.” Omega slowly let go of Hunter as she turned back to you. “You weren’t there,” Omega repeated, “so I did what you would do.” She gestured for him to sit down in the chair beside your bed.

Hunter swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat down slowly, not daring to let his hands go where they ached to go. To caress your face, brush his thumb against your cheek. Who knows what his hands would do. “How long has it been?”

“Three standard rotations.” Tech had stepped back into the room, and Hunter felt his head begin to spin. “We’re two thirds of the way to Saleucami.”

“Saleucami?” Hunter questioned, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Rex has a secret base there,” Tech answered. “It has the medical supplies adequate to heal our sarad’s injuries. A bacta tank, that is.” There was a pause before Tech sighed. “Normal stab wounds would only require a bacta patch, but hers were… deeper than usual. And the location of the wounds-”

“I know where I stabbed her.”

For the next three rotations, Hunter didn’t leave your side, waiting anxiously for any sign of your awakening (because you had to wake up… you just had to). He slept in that uncomfortable chair, that was just a tad too small because it was Omega’s, but he refused to move. Even if his siblings offered to take his seat he just shook his head. Omega and Echo took turns bringing him ration packets three times a rotation, but he barely noticed himself eating it as he felt his gaze unable to be torn away from you.

When they had landed on Saleucami, Rex greeted them shortly before rushing over to your bed and, with the held of Wrecker, carried your limp form to the medical facility in a rush. Hunter trailed almost as lifelessly as you behind them, and jumped when he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder.

“The General’s strong,” Rex reassured him. “I fought with her on the battlefield for years and I can assure you it’d take more than a few stab wounds to take her down.” Not where I stabbed her, Hunter thought helplessly to himself. But still, Rex’s comfort was appreciated.

And now Hunter was sitting again in a chair beside you. You had been removed from the Bacta Tank a few hours ago, since your wounds were as healed as they would get. There was still a scar on your stomach, though, and Hunter assumed that there would be another one over your heart as well. He winced at the thought - another reminder of what he did to you.

He had one hand in your limp one since he had to know you were still there. He didn’t trust the machinery hooked up to you as much as he trusted his own senses… if there was one thing he still trusted about himself, it would be his enhanced senses. The dull, but still constant beating of your heart beneath your skin was enough to keep him sane for now.

Until his heart jumped painfully against his chest when he felt it.

No. It couldn’t be. He had to be hallucinating.

But there it was

“Who’s there?”

Hunter swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to talk to you. “Cyare?” There was no response, and as he waited for your hand to squeeze his again he felt himself slowly begin to deflate. Maybe he had gone insane and was imagining things-

“Talk to me through your thoughts… I can hear you.”

“…Mesh’la?”

“Hunter?”

Hunter nearly wept in joy as he tightened his grip around your hand.

“I’m right here, Mesh’la. I’m right here.” Hunter didn’t know if he was comforting or pleading you, but another response never came. Maybe he had imagined it after all.

…

Later, when the sun had just begun to rise, you finally stirred, the dull ache in your chest a painful reminder of the encounter. Hunter was awake, too, sitting up on his cot across from you, hands clenched in his lap. He looked weary, his amber eyes clouded with regret as he watched you.

Your heart sank. Hunter.

His hair was disheveled, longer than you had seen it, and his bandana missing. His armor had been swapped for simple fatigues. He looked vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before.

"Hunter," you croaked, your voice weak. He shot up from his chair, a mixture of relief and anguish crossing his face.

"Hi," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "You’re awake." His hand hovered over yours for a moment before he finally took it gently. "We didn’t know if you’d..." His words trailed off, and he shook his head as if trying to banish the thought. “Bacta tank.” He gestured vaguely. “You… I…” He shook his head as he buried his face in his hands. “My words aren’t coming out right.” You laughed a little, trying to shake off the awkwardness and severity of the situation before wincing as the ache in your chest increased tenfold.

"You got me good," you murmured, attempting a smile despite the pain. You raised a hand to your chest, feeling the bandages beneath your gown. "Twice."

Hunter winced, his jaw tightening. "I wasn’t... myself." He looked away, guilt written all over his face. "When I woke up, I saw what I did . I almost—" His voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "I don’t know how I can ever make up for it."

“You don’t have to make up for anything. You weren’t in control," you said firmly, summoning what strength you could. "That wasn’t you, Hunter. It was that stupid inhibitor chip." You squeezed his hand, drawing his gaze back to you. "And… you’re here now. That’s what matters."

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a shaky breath and nodded, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You should never have come after me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You put yourself in danger for me.”

“And I’d do it again-”

“Why?” Hunter demanded. “Why do this to yourself? You knew I wasn’t in control and that I wouldn’t hold back from hurting you. Why?”

Your lips curved into a faint smile despite the heaviness in your chest. "Because you’re home. And I wasn’t going to let the Empire take you away from us. From me."

Hunter's breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process your words. Slowly, he sank back into his chair, his head bowing forward until his forehead rested against your hand. His broad shoulders trembled, and you realized he was crying.

"Mesh’la," he murmured, the Mandalorian word falling from his lips like a prayer. "You almost died... for me. How can I—?"

"You can start by staying," you interrupted softly, your fingers brushing against his hair. "By letting yourself believe that you’re worth saving. Because you are, Hunter. To me, to Omega, to the Batch. You’re worth everything."

Hunter looked up at you then, his amber eyes glassy but filled with something that hadn’t been there before—hope. He nodded slowly, his hand never leaving yours.

"I’ll stay," he said quietly. "Of course I’ll stay for you. For all of you." His voice steadied, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light. "But you have to promise me something, too."

"What’s that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise me you won’t do something like that again," he said, a faint, broken smile tugging at his lips. "I can’t lose you, cyar’ika. Not like that."

You managed a weak laugh, though it hurt to do so. "No promises," you teased, earning a soft chuckle from him in return.

Hunter leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours gently. The warmth of the gesture seeped into you, soothing the lingering aches in your body. "I remember what you said that night.” Hunter whispered lowly, and you swear you could hear your heart speed up. Was he really… did he really-

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," he murmured, his voice low and steady.

There was a light pause before you smiled at him, and replied. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

It was Hunter and you against the galaxy.

I've known it from the very start We're a shot in the darkest dark... - Say Don't Go (Taylor Swift)

end xx dreamtheatre requests are open (please request im bored)