#and doesn't hurt me in unreasonable ways)

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[burneddownthegym]

rewatching b5 really reminding me how much sheridan and delenn are john and aeryn's godparents. you do get the sense that the farscape writers watched b5 and were like. okay interesting. now what if we made the love story hornier, gayer, and also emotional torture. and they were so powerful for that.

[ame-to-ame]

How ironic that literally the moral of dm is that to live is to consume and to have desires is a proof of living and so wanting is not bad!!! Wanting is not bad!!! But every waking hour I repress myself from wanting that I don't even know really how I feel or what I want anymore

Which is kinda why I have like mixed feelings Abt falin bc I like falin I do she just reminds me of someone and she reminds me of the part of myself I thought I was growing out of but recently I've been falling back into

To not have any dislikes. To not want to hurt anyone. To be nonconfrontational. To forgive and say nothing about your family who cast you out and your brother who left you. To not have any complaints about the injustice of the world enacted upon you for being just a little different, but not really different from anyone at all because like everyone else you were just a kid trying to survive in a world that was new to you.

Falin was most alive to me when she said that she was willing to hurt others to ensure the survival and wellbeing of marcille and laios. Because in that moment she wasn't just someone who would go along with anything who was okay with everything--She wanted her brother and friend to be well. She wanted something!! And I think it's kinda implied with the whole message of the manga that falin was most alive in the end when she does choose to live. She chooses to live by consuming. She wants to live!! She wants to eat! And the lion says that it's the more painful path or something like that. But nonetheless she does it because she wants to. Want. Desire. You have to want something to have any force of will, any proof of living in this world, because how else will you change anything if you're okay with everything and let it change you?

But anyway. Yeah. I saw a post that ended like. I am crude at piano, crude at life, and full of wants (by onenhillion on tt) about being scared of wanting things for fear of rejection and fear of loss but coming to accept it. And imo with my own meaning projected onto it, accepting wanting bc it's such an integral part of being alive. You have to be okay with wanting things and have to be okay with rejection and loss.

Anyway all it is to say that I don't want to have lived a life where I only did things that other people wanted from me. Things other people told me to do. Things other people thought I should do. I want to have at least tried to do the things I wanted and be the person I want to be and even if I fail on the way I will have felt better knowing that I at least tried.

I guess that's why I always try to take the initiative and try to be open and make the first move and whatnot because. Well. Life is too short to be scared or to wait for a better time or to doubt myself. But even then I'm too aware that I'm still not brave enough sometimes that I'm still too scared sometimes. But at least the times I've tried I can be proud of. It's a work in progress. Progress isn't linear. I just have to be more sure and more certain in myself.

God it's my life and I'm the only one responsible for it so. I better be taking the wheel back soon lol.

[tardis--dreams]

What is it that makes period pain so debilitating. In terms of pain i would probably rate the pepper grinder falling from the top shelf right on my foot the same as the pain rn, but i only ever get knocked out from this particular pain

[nyaagolor]

Ranking the Ace Attorney main cast on whether or not I think they'd be a narc

I was making a more coherent, serious post about the different approaches to justice each of the characters have and how that is shaped by their backstory... and then I realized a funnier question is what they would do if they saw you eating a weed brownie so I made this post instead

Phoenix: In the trilogy era, yes. He trusts people, but believes that trust has to be built on pursuing justice and always accepting the harsh reality. He'd be sad about it, but a narc nonetheless. In his Beanix era he's making his money through "totally legal gambling" and on the hunt for questionably legal evidence so I have no doubt in my mind there's a pot farm under the WAA for supplemental income. He gives up his narc ways and for that I salute him

Apollo: If I were to pick a single member of this cast who is NOT invited to the rotation it would be him. He had zero hesitation throwing Kristoph to the wolves after working for him for years so I know he has absolutely zero qualms about ratting out his friends or coworkers. Loyalty means nothing in the eyes of justice and it means nothing to him. He's a narc.

Athena: She's gonna lecture you and look all sad about it, but she's no snitch. She's been through the rounds with Simon so she gets it. Having to know you hurt her feelings is enough of a punishment in her eyes

Edgeworth: He's not a narc but he IS obsessed with being right, so if you don't immediately fess up with exactly what you're doing he's going to send your stoned ass to the chess dimension and honestly I think that's worse

Franziska: Unfortunately she is a cop. Narc.

Godot: Diego-era yeah he's a narc, but after the coma? I feel like he has better things to worry about, he would just ignore you. He has some soul searching to do and some grief complexes to unlearn he doesn't have the time to be a lil snitch. Post prison I think he's stoned somewhere in Kurain and chillaxing, as is his right

Klavier: Don't let his rockstar attitude fool you he's a narc and extremely annoying about it. The gavinners tour bus is dry as hell and it's all Klavier's fault. Daryan offers him a line and he gets all uppity and says "the only LINE i want you doing is the third line in the prechorus, you keep messing up the syncopation" and that's the end of that discussion

Simon: He's been in prison so he knows what's up. Not a narc. Might glare at you until you share though

Nahyuta: He's a narc and will lecture you so long about it you're tempted to turn yourself in to get out of earshot. He also never forgets and never forgives. Datz is trying to reform him but it isn't going well

Sebastian: Yes, but I think the idea of him having to turn in someone for it would make him cry so they end up comforting him instead. Kay thinks he needs to try a weed brownie

Maya: I want you to look at me and tell me she doesn't smoke weed. Not a narc

Pearl: I think if she found out that her big sister figure smoked weed she would have a heart attack. Def a narc

Trucy: I can say with absolute certainty that if you really wanted weed she could find you a dealer faster than anyone in the cast. Trucy is a magician and has grown up around a variety of people involved with some seedier institutions, she knows better than to snitch. Has not been and will never be a narc

Kay: Will help you shoplift. Not a narc

Gumshoe: A narc on principle, but would feel really bad about it and would probably let you off with a warning if you started crying or acting upset because I think he's a softie. He's not unreasonable

Ema: If you think she has even the tiniest sliver of respect for cops you're lying to yourself. Not a narc and will actively help you evade police out of principle. A homie, honestly

Fulbright: Not only is he a narc but he definitely runs the DARE program at the local highschool and is printed on half the posters they put up in the precinct. I'm also like 80% sure he doesn't actually know how weed works

[crowtwink]

I am So Normal about this line. His later line about how he never asked to be human is good too but this right here...

Just... the way that Monty and Esther's relationship subtly reinforces the themes about abuse that the rest of the show explores.

The rest of the characters are dealing with healing from the various traumas of past abuse and trying not to continue the cycles they were hurt by but Monty? Monty is trapped in his abuse right now.

And the way that it's shown...

I saw someone point out that his cage is WAY too small for a bird of his size and that's 100% correct and 100% demonstrates that Esther is a shitty person but the thing about the cage that interests me the most isn't it's unsuitability.

It's the fact that the cage is never locked. Most of the time, the door isn't even closed. There's nothing physically stopping Monty from just skipping town. He doesn't seem to particularly like Esther - even at the start - and he's not subtle about it. We never see any indication that she has any magic keeping him bound to her. (It's not unreasonable to assume that she does, sure, but she's never once shown to use it and that's a narrative choice. The one time she threatens him for overstepping, it's physical.)

Even after he's shown hesitation in following through on her plan, even after they have their big fight, even after she remakes him against his will for the second time, we still see him return to that cage. And the cage remains unlocked, because Esther remains confident in her hold over him.

Because that's the thing about staying with your abuser. It's often not about being physically unable to leave the situation. Esther doesn't keep Monty trapped by locking him up. If she did, all he would have to do would be leave the cage to be free. The hold she has on him is much deeper and much harder to escape.

But not impossible.

It's a little betrayal, in the grand scheme of things, but he does finally act against her directly.

Thematically, it makes perfect sense to me that it's Charles who finally pushes him to rebel. Charles, who promised way back in episode one to befriend him. Charles, who knows exactly what it's like to be trapped by an abusive parent. Charles, who so desperately wants people in circumstances similar to his own be in the right so he can prove to himself that he isn't destined to turn out like his dad.

It's no surprise that Charles' immediate reaction to Monty's little act of rebellion is delight.

I really hope we'll see more of Monty in a season two. But even if we don't, I know he's going to be okay.

He's finally escaped.

[snailpebbles]

longtime love - OP81

summary: oscar is oblivious, cannot word sentences, and is hit hard.

tags: accidental confession, angst then fluff ig, idiots.

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"C'mon, it's just one little favor!" Oscar sighs in exasperation, tossing his hands up before resting them on his hips. You turn away from him, hand up to your lips as if chewing your nails when in actuality, you're trying to not cry. By any means you aren't a crybaby, but in this case you think the reaction is valid. Oscar continues to plead - an out of character move by him - as your defenses start to wear down, leaving you with a choice. Relent and suffer, or say no and suffer.

"It's just one date alright? One night with me is all I ask." He sighs, gently grabbing your bicep. The apartment should feel warm and cozy as it typically does, but now all you feel is cold; the comfort stripped away as the realization of just how wrong this could all go hits you. Yes, it is just one fake double date to appease some friends, and yes, you are also madly in love with him. What could go wrong?

Oscar moves into the kitchen as you stay in the living room, the open space still allowing his pleading and your silent panic. You can keep it together for one night. Definitely. Sure he'd be dressed all nice, calling you his girlfriend, maybe even kiss-

Yeah no, you have to do this.

Just as you make up your mind to help him out, completely unselfishly of course, Oscar opens his mouth once more in the midst of his rambles. He's still in the kitchen and you're still in the living room, that distance seeming to grow wider as he doesn't notice the way your face falls.

"We wouldn't actually be dating- I mean could you imagine?" Oscar laughs, shaking his head. He laughs at the idea of being together, being with you. Finally he must gain awareness since his face drops upon looking at you, noticing how hurt you appear. It's like your heart has split in two and the air has been punched out of your lungs. "Hey- hey wait no I didn't mean it like that-" He starts, realizing his mistake as he rounds the kitchen bar to reach you.

You're already gone though, pulling on your shoes as the urge to leave and wallow in your bed hits you. Oscar doesn't understand why exactly you're reacting this way until it all hits him at once. The lingering looks he just assumed were you zoning out, the affection he now realizes no one else gets, and why no one you've dated has ever seemed to like him. You're heading towards the door as his world spins on its axis, but those reflexes still allow him to catch you by the arms and make you at least look at him.

"Oscar let me go." You whisper, head bowed as you can't stand to look at him. You know that he knows; it's obvious in the way he's shaking and how he isn't smiling like you would at such a revelation. "I know, so please.. let me go." Oscar shakes his head at your words, an unreasonable guilt swelling in his chance the moment he comes to terms with the fact that.. he doesn't feel the same. He loves you, adores you even, but is it romantic? Has it ever been romantic?

He's left to grapple with many new emotions as you leave, the door clicking shut as his apartment goes silent. You love him. This whole time you've loved him. Him? The idea seems impossible, someone as amazing as you loving him. Oscar sits down on his couch, head in his hands and groans in frustration at his own feelings. He doesn't love you like that, surely he doesn't. But he could try, couldn't he? It all feels stupid so he pours himself a drink and decides to sleep on this.. but does end up staring at pictures of you two together. Which could mean nothing.

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It's been two weeks, bordering on three, since you've talked. Life feels stale and quiet, no one is there to listen to you complain about professor so and so, and you don't hear anything about Lando making some silly joke. All in all, it sucks and getting over your best friend is not for the weak. He probably isn't even struggling as hard as you!

Oscar's life feels as though it's ending.

Two weeks. Two weeks!

How can he go on? He isn't hearing anything about some dumb professor and has no one to tell Lando's stupid jokes to. Hattie is urging him to talk to you but I'd course he chickens out, it's you. The woman he maybe, possibly, is wildly in love with. He doesn't know! If he could just see you and stop sitting around his apartment moping like he is now, maybe that could be remedied. His nonsensical praying seems to have worked since his phone dings, the notification the one he has just for you. You want him to come over to talk.

He's never gotten up so fast in his life.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

Why? Why did you send that text? After stumbling into your bathroom and realizing you look like shit personified, you decide to rip the bandaid off and get the horrendous rejection over. All you want is your best friend back, even at the expense of your feelings.

Maybe two hours pass and then your doorbell is ringing, a look through the peephole showing a very nervous looking Oscar. Okay, alright, you can do this. You smooth down your shirt pointlessly, dust off invisible dirt, and open the door.

Oscar stares. He stares until you clear your throat and do that cute little shuffle on your feet to relieve some nerves- wait cute?

"Hey." That was awkward. Too awkward. It seems to be fine though since you let him in and both of you sit on your - much comfier - couch. "So uhm.." He presses his lips together while you stare at your hands, practically miles apart from one another when usually you'd be cuddled up watching a movie by this point.

"I'm sorry about uhm.. well everything. I overreacted." You say quietly, picking at the hem of your shirt. Oscar stalls for a moment, not at all expecting you to apologize.

"What? No you didn't-" He struggles to get the words out, turning to face you properly and grab your hands to stop your picking. "You didn't do anything wrong or whatever you're thinking." It's hard to believe what he's saying, but his hands warming yours is a nice distraction. You lift your head to finally look at him, a bit surprised by his concerned expression. He shifts nervously and his eyes can't seem to meet yours, the tension in the air rising tenfold.

"So.. you know?" The question has to be asked and you need to know if you can salvage this, no matter how insistent he is that it's fine. Oscar nods, muttering a quiet 'I know' as heat creeps up his cheeks. A sigh escapes you but Oscar knows you just as well, squeezing your hands before your thoughts run wild.

"Can we figure this out? Please?" He asks softly, eyebrows furrowed upwards and shoulders tense. His grip on your hands is tight yet it steadies you, the tension easing ever so slightly the moment you nod 'yes'.

"You don't feel the same." It's more of a statement, an acceptance, rather than a question. Oscar doesn't respond - better than the immediate yes you expected - and instead moves closer, his knees now pressed to yours.

"I don't know." He starts, his heart fluttering anxiously about his chest. The response confuses you yet you don't pull away, that tiny bit of hope nudging its way into your brain against your better judgement. His eyes lift to yours before he begins to speak again, forgetting just for a second what he was going to say as he looks at you.

"I've never seen you in this way, y'know? But now.." His face goes from pink to red, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck in that endearing way you love.

"Now?" You edge him on, lacing your fingers through his in a bold move. Thankfully he accepts and a small smile tugs at his lips, making your heart speed up slightly.

"Well you- you're making me feel all nervous, and I don't know how to uh.. how to handle it?" He shrugs helplessly, looking conflicted. The feelings have been coming to the surface in the past two weeks, ones he'd unknowingly been pushing down for some stupid reason he couldn't fathom. In his vision you appear radiant, a warmth he craves and wants to love but doesn't know how. The idea that you've always felt this strongly for him only fuels his guilt.

"Welcome to my life." You mutter without really thinking, but he laughs so it's okay. He looks relieved as the tension shifts entirely, more giddy like a stupid highschool romance than anything else. "So.. now what?" Oscar shrugs in response, hesitant to ask what he might ruin things again. Then he looks at you and your beautiful smile, the way you seem to light up just with him, and knows he won't be able to handle it if he doesn't ask.

"Can we try this? Us?" It comes out as a whisper, the words you've dreamt of hearing these past few years, but they still feel unreal. He takes your shock as the beginning of a rejection, his face falling momentarily before he fixes it into his usual relatively calm expression. You snap out of it though when he tries to pull his hands away, catching and holding tight.

"We can." You whisper, trying to fight off the grin you feel coming. His arms come around you tight, hair tickling your neck where he hides his face. Oscar hasn't felt joy like this for quite some time and neither did he expect to be this excited; maybe he really, really likes you.

"I'm sorry for what I said that day, it really came out wrong and you should know the idea of being with you.. it's an amazing one." He says quietly, not even able to imagine how badly it must have hurt to hear him say such a thing. Even as you try to brush it off he continues apologizing, freeing up one hand to cup your cheek. He's tempted to laugh at how warm your skin feels knowing he's the cause, but he doesn't. The moment feels too serious and you look too fragile to do such a thing.

"So you like me and it's not some.. some laughable idea?" You raise an eyebrow, unconsciously leaning into his hand. Oscar nods eagerly, thumb rubbing your cheek with an affection you didn't honestly know he had. While it's hard to reconcile in your mind, the look in his eyes seems to be proof enough of his feelings. It's a look you've seen before when watching videos of you two, your own eyes easily a window into the love you hold.

"I'm an idiot for not seeing it, not seeing you sooner." He says softly, the space between you slowly becoming less and less. Soon his nose is bumping yours, lips melding into one another until he's holding your jaw and your hands have woven into his hair. His heart is racing, as is yours, and he doesn't know how he's managed to live without this for so long.

Surprisingly you pull away first, leaving your forehead to rest against his as both of you catch your breath. He kissed you. kissed. you. The world could end right now and you'd still be just as happy. His hair is soft as usual but his lips.. it's like they fit perfectly on your own.

"Okay, yeah. I like you." He mutters, making you snort in laughter. Oscar laughs with you, wanting to kiss you again but struggling to keep his smile down enough to do so. You feel almost lightheaded with happiness, yet doubt still nags at you.

"Are you sure..? I've never wanted anything more than this but no matter how bad I want you, I'm not going in if you aren't sure." You say firmly, leaning back just enough to properly see his face.

"I swear to you, I'm serious. I've never been more serious in my life okay?" Oscar murmurs, kissing your cheek to solidify his words. "I'll spend forever making up lost time with you."

"Forevers a long time.. sure you can deal with me?" You ask jokingly, trying to play off how his words make you feel all teary. Oscar picks up on this and pecks you on the lips, then repeatedly all over your face until you're giggling.

"There is no other way I'd like to spend forever than with you." He kisses you then, drawing you closer until you're borderline in his lap. It makes your heart burn almost, the excitement you feel, mixing in with love and relief. Oscar knows he'll never recover from you - not like he'd want to - even as he is still actively figuring out how he feels.

"You're mine now, hm?" He murmurs against your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider as he kisses you. All you can do is nod slightly, too lost in him to think of even daring to pull away.

Eventually you do break apart, cuddling up like you always would and putting on a movie you've both seen a hundred times. Comfortable. Familiar. Just as loving as before, but now it's expressed.

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[yanderefarm]

How did ares wedding/proposal go with us

🐀

cw;; violence mentioned, yandere tendencies, murder, hurt/comfort

i think this was the ask that originally had me revealing that you and ares aren't actually married yet. but here's a proposal? kind of. im sure he made you do a big fancy one eventually but!! still.

you have lived with ares for a while now and despite his knack for violence it's been domestic bliss. you go to work, come home, and get adored by your boyfriend. well, boyfriend is a weird term for it. technically you two are boyfriends but somehow ares seemed to have skipped that step. whenever he would introduce himself to people in your life he would call himself your wife and you were his husband. you even got so used to calling him wife you forgot you two weren't actually married.

the only thing that reminded you of your unmarried status was that pretty golden ring around your lover's finger. you were holding his hand, your thumb mindlessly playing with the band while some trashy reality tv show played in the background. you looked at the ring as you started to slide it up his finger.

"....have you ever thought about actually getting married? ..... i mean like to me."

ares turned his head to look at you with confusion. "we're married?"

"no. we're not."

"you're playing with my wedding ring."

"yeah. the wedding ring from your ex husband."

he blinked and then looked down at his hand, his brows furrowed. "oh."

"...so? have you ever thought about marrying me?"

he looked between the ring and your face before smiling softly. "of course I want to marry you. you're my husband."

"but I'm not." you didn't realize just how deeply this was bothering you until you were pouting.

"yes you are."

"no. that stupid... that guy is still your husband. he got you first."

"are you jealous?" ares asked in his flirtatious way, a finger going up to twirl his hair.

"no. i mean... yes but I don't want you to get that way about it. I'm serious."

ares dropped his hand and shifted to face you. "you know I don't care about that man anymore, don't you?"

"i... i guess?" you let out a sigh and looked away from him. "why do you... keep so much stuff that reminds you of him?"

"it doesn't remind me of him." ares reached out and cupped your face in his soft hand, pulling you to look at him again.

you found yourself leaning into his hand. "it's his wedding ring... his heart... you still have some of his clothes."

"i got rid of the hearts like you wanted."

"god, don't say it like that i feel like I'm being unreasonable."

he chuckled. "i want to gouge out the eyes of everyone who looks at you but you're unreasonable?"

you let out a little huff and leaned against his forehead. "maybe we're both unreasonable."

"i don't want you to feel bad, honey bunny. tell me what you need from me and I'll do my best to give you it."

"what if i want to burn down this house with all of his belongings and your ring and run away together?"

"i could arrange that."

you chuckled letting your head fall to his shoulder. "i just... i wish i knew you didn't love him anymore... sometimes i.. i worry you're going to get bored of me, cheat, and kill me."

his fingers ran through your hair coaxing you closer into him until your nose nestled against his neck.

"you're nothing like him. he didn't love me... he was just scared of me all the time. he knew what I was doing and he hated me for it... you would never treat me like that."

"i think most people would be scared of you killing people..."

he pouted. "you're not. you love me."

"yeah because im crazy. and you're crazy."

"I'll never find someone else who loves my crazy like you."

"can i take it off?" you started to slide his ring off as you leaned in for a kiss.

"please. i only want yours. burn away everything. burn him from my skin until only you remain."

you finally caught his lips, his wedding ring discarded somewhere as you began kissing passionately. the next morning you started picking out rings together.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i like you, and it scares the hell out of me

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

Hi, could you do Fred Weasley x reader, where all of Fred's life he's hated Slytherins and has always said he would never befriend one much less date one, but reader appears and he starts falling for her while denying it and is maybe a bit of an a**hole to reader because he just doesn't believe he could ever like you, but realizes that reader isn't horrible and that not all Slytherins are monsters, and once they're together everyone teases him about how he would say he would never date a Slytherin but now reader is basically the love of his life Sorry if this is really long

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Fred Weasley had always hated Slytherins. He and George had a running joke about it—one that usually involved some combination of hissing noises and sneers when a Slytherin walked by. It wasn’t even personal most of the time. It was just tradition, passed down from sibling to sibling. The twins were proud Gryffindors through and through, and they knew the unspoken rule: Slytherins were the enemy. Simple as that.

That was, until you showed up.

You were the new Slytherin transfer from Beauxbatons, and somehow you’d ended up in nearly every one of Fred's classes. From the moment he saw the green and silver tie around your neck, he wrote you off. He'd never spoken to you, and he didn't plan on changing that anytime soon.

However, Fred found it harder to ignore you when Professor Flitwick paired the two of you together for a Charms project. You gave him a polite smile, introducing yourself. Fred just crossed his arms and muttered, “Weasley.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. It seemed you had better things to do than acknowledge his attitude, which only irritated him more. He didn't like the way you just brushed off his hostility like it was nothing. It made him feel like he was being unreasonable, and Fred Weasley was never unreasonable.

The days passed, and you continued working together, much to Fred's annoyance. You were good at Charms, annoyingly so, and you didn’t seem to care about the house rivalry. You were friendly and witty, often making comments that caught Fred off guard, almost making him laugh. Almost.

“Why do you hate me so much?” you asked one afternoon, finally tired of the silent treatment and the occasional snarky remark Fred threw your way.

“I don’t hate you,” Fred said, leaning back in his chair. “I just don’t trust Slytherins.”You sighed, “You don’t even know me, Fred. You’ve never tried to get to know me.”

“I don’t need to know you,” he shot back. “I know enough. You’re a Slytherin. That tells me everything.”

You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated, but you didn’t argue. You just went back to your notes, ignoring him for the rest of the session. Fred found himself stealing glances at you, feeling a twinge of guilt he couldn’t quite place. You were just another Slytherin, so why did he care if he hurt your feelings?

Despite his efforts to maintain his distance, Fred couldn’t help but notice the small things about you. How you always offered to help first-years in the library when they looked lost. How you laughed at George’s jokes even when Fred was being cold. How you treated everyone with the same kindness, regardless of their house.

It annoyed him. It annoyed him that you were proving him wrong. He’d always believed Slytherins were cruel, self-serving, and ambitious to a fault. But you… you were proving that wrong every single day.

Then came the day of the Charms project presentation. Fred had barely paid attention to the practice sessions, too busy pretending not to care. But when you stood up in front of the class, presenting with confidence and a slight smile, Fred found himself paying attention.

When it was Fred's turn to speak, he fumbled with his words. You subtly nudged him with your elbow, whispering the lines you’d rehearsed together, and he somehow managed to pull through. The class clapped, and Professor Flitwick awarded them full marks. You grinned at Fred, and he couldn't help but smile back, his first genuine smile toward you.

After class, Fred found himself walking beside you. He was still annoyed at how much he was noticing you, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It was like once he’d started seeing you, he couldn’t look away.

“Maybe you’re not all bad,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him, surprised. “Is that a compliment?”

Fred shrugged. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You laughed, a light, carefree sound that made Fred’s stomach flip. He cursed under his breath. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid. But it was too late. He could feel himself falling, and it terrified him.

Over the next few weeks, Fred tried to keep his distance, but it was useless. You were everywhere he turned, and worse, he found himself wanting to see you. He started sitting next to you in classes, making small talk, and actually trying to be nice. George noticed, of course, and teased him relentlessly about it.

“Looks like Fred’s gone soft,” George said one day, waggling his eyebrows. “Falling for a Slytherin, are we?”

Fred shot him a look. “Shut it, George.”

But he couldn’t deny it any longer. He liked you. Really liked you. You were smart, funny, and kind. You weren’t like the Slytherins he’d made up in his head. And for once, Fred found himself caring more about who you were as a person than the house you were sorted into.

One evening, Fred found you sitting alone by the lake, your nose buried in a book. He hesitated before approaching, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, hands shoved in his pockets.

You looked up, surprised. “Hey.”

Fred sat down beside you, staring out at the water. “I’ve been an idiot,” he said after a long silence.

You closed your book, giving him your full attention. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve spent my whole life thinking Slytherins were the enemy. I never even bothered to see people for who they really are,” he admitted. “I was wrong.”

You smiled softly. “That’s a start.”

Fred looked at you, really looked at you, and felt his heart swell. He reached out, taking your hand in his. It felt right, like everything was falling into place.

“I like you,” he said, voice low. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to be scared, Fred. Not all Slytherins are monsters.”

Fred smiled, leaning in closer. “I’m starting to realize that.”

And when he kissed you, everything else faded away—the rivalry, the jokes, the fear. It was just you and him, and that was all that mattered.

After that, Fred and you were inseparable. The whole school seemed to be in on the joke, teasing Fred about how he’d sworn he’d never date a Slytherin. But Fred didn’t care. He didn’t care about the jokes or the teasing, because he’d found something real with you.

Fred had spent his life hating Slytherins, but now, he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it.

[ihni]

What if ...

... Hopper and Neil Hargrove had been in the army together?

I don't know anything about the army and all I know is that the war at least Hopper went to was the one in Vietnam, but let's play with the thought that the two of them were there together. And did NOT get along, like at ALL; Hopper thought Neil was deceitful and untrustworthy, too proud and manipulative. Overestimating his own importance and competence, and too happy to cause pain in others.

They both survived the war and went back to their own lives, only like 20 years later or so, the Hargroves show up in Hawkins and Hopper meets Neil Hargrove again.

Despite telling himself that they're older now; that they're adults who have had time to grow into themselves, Hopper STILL doesn't like Neil. Like, his skin is crawling when he sees the man, even after all these years. But it's not like he has a good reason to dislike him now; outwardly, Neil Hargrove seems to be just a normal family man, setting down in Hawkins with his family. No one else has had any complaints. And either way, Hopper can't explain it, it's just a feeling. He just doesn't LIKE him.

And the thing is, that the guy has KIDS now, too. Or - as Hopper learns, as soon as he gets the documents he pulled from California - a son, at least (the girl being Neil Hargrove's new wife's kid). And by the file that Hopper has to pull some strings to get his hands on, the kid is shaping up to be a bad seed, just like his dad. Reports on fights, trespassing, shoplifting, underage drinking, reckless driving.

Hopper doesn't want that kind of bad influence in his town. So what, if he wants to nip it in the bud? So what, if he pulls the kid over as soon as he gets the chance, just to get a feel of him? The kid is tense, obviously hiding something, and speaking so respectfully that it borders on sarcasm - strike that, it's definitely sarcasm.

So what, if Hopper feels the need to put the fear of god into the kid? He's here, and his father is not - Hopper can't touch Neil, who never officially puts a toe out of line, but a teenager with a bad attitude? It's basically Hopper's JOB to do something about that.

So he goes hard on the kid. Tells himself it's for the kid's own good; keeping him on the straight and narrow and teach him what's right and what's wrong. And hey, if he gets to bring the kid home to the Hargrove doorstep sometimes and look Neil Hargrove in the eye while he lets him know what his son has done now (Not so perfect now, are you Hargrove?), well, then that's just a bonus. Perks of being the Chief of Police.

It becomes personal, in the way that he will take any chance to gte on the kid's case for SOMETHING. But also the opposite of personal, because the kid - Billy - isn't really a person in his own right in Hopper's eyes. He's just an angry kid. Neil Junior. A chip of the Hargrove block. He is simply a means to an end. The best way to get to Neil in a way that doesn't seem unreasonable, or petty, in the eyes of everyone else.

And of course, I want the Moment of Realization. I don't know where or when; maybe Hopper stumbles over Billy's car parked out at the Quarry, or maybe he nabs him after a party, or maybe he sees him out walking by the side of the road late one night and pulls up next to him.

And maybe that's the time when Billy has had ENOUGH. When he either gets angry and starts yelling, 'What do you have against me, man?? What have I ever done to you?", or maybe he tries to run because he can't do this right now, or maybe it's a Bad Night and he's tired and terrified and he breaks down crying (but tries to hide it).

Maybe it's all three.

And, I don't know, but maybe Billy's hurt and wincing and Hopper notices, and maybe when Billy refuses Hopper (not very gently) demands to see, and -

Maybe there are bruises. Maybe there's a burn scar somewhere on Billy where he couldn't have put it himself (like between his shoulder blades), the one you get from a red-hot lighter. A mark that Hopper remembers from his time in the the army, from when a buddy of his made a bet with Neil and lost, and Neil let his lighter burn for a long time and then pressed the hot metal against the guy's back. That too scarred, and it looked just like this.

And maybe that's when Hopper lets his memories boil over, and his voice is rough when he asks what happened, who did that, and maybe that's when Billy mutters something about Hopper and Neil being army buddies and Hopper doesn't have to worry, Billy isn't a snitch, he can keep his mouth shut.

And that's when things slot into place in Hopper's brain, and he realizes that the kid is just a KID, that the anger comes from hopelessness, that the attitude is a mask to hide his fear. Because even now, he's cowering in Hopper's grip - but still keeping eye contact, back straight, hands to the side. Learned behaviour.

And that's when Hopper realizes he has Fucked Up.

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things - 4 ✿

A/N: I wish I knew how to write for Katakuri because he'd be right at home in this big boi edition ksdjh Rosi makes me cry ilhsm (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Summary: Little relationship things with a couple big bads, and Rosi who has never done anything wrong in his life and doesn't die, bc i said so ✿

Characters: Crocodile, Rosinante (Corazon), Doflamingo

Content: SFW, G/N reader (though Croc calls you doll... but I think he'd do that regardless,) fluff on toast ✿

(Part 1 - Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji) (Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 3 - Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer)

Crocodile

✿ It goes without saying, being with Crocodile means you are surrounded by luxury; he is a very materialistic man with a very specific image he has cultivated, and that extends to you. All your clothes, jewellery, any makeup, even down to your perfume and shampoo are carefully considered to make sure you compliment him perfectly. He is particular, but not unreasonable, giving you options so you can make your own decision, and he will not force something on you that you hate - can't have you walking around sulking. Really though, he values your opinion, he just sets the parameters and you chose how to meet them. In fact, if you simply went along with everything he said, giving no input of your own; he'd get very bored, very quickly.

✿ When you aren't in public, basically acting as the power couple of Alabasta (before that goes awry,) and then of the Cross Guild; he allows himself to be much softer, and generally just more human with you. Work will always be his priority, but he's not against sleeping in and having a lazy day, or part day, depending on what's going on in your lives. He'll hug you randomly, catch you in his hook if he wants your attention, and just generally manhandle you, but in the gentlest way. Crocodile also enjoys cooking with you, and is not above throwing ingredients, or flicking water at you, especially if you start it, and he will throw a tea towel in your face if he wants to. It's very endearing seeing such a powerful, and feared man being a little silly, and it's only for you.

✿ His sense of humour is as dry as he is, and either you get it and laugh along, which is nice, or you find it so painful that you can't help but groan, him laughing at your suffering instead, which is even nicer. Crocodile's laugh is basically a low rumble that you can feel reverberating in his chest, which is the nicest part of all. He always drops jokes unexpectedly, in a way where you think he's just going to comment on something, or maybe flirt with you; "You know what makes me smile, doll?" - "Could it be the fact you get to spend a quiet, relaxing day with me, hmm?" - "Facial muscles." It's either the funniest thing, or you will genuinely want to throttle him. He doesn't hold it against you if you slap him over it, the impact barely registers with this living sandbag, and he takes it as a sign that the joke was a particularly good one (in his opinion.)

Rosinante (Corazon)

✿ An absolute sweetheart, and a gentle giant. He treats you like spun glass, at least to begin with, afraid he will hurt you with either his general size and strength, or his clumsy nature. It will take time for him to relax into things, but he will; humans are naturally rather resilient, and him giving you a strong hug, or falling over himself onto you is not going to break you. It still won't stop him crying over it, especially if you end up with any bruises, but you'll hold him gently as you stroke his head, soothing him while you explain that it's alright, and that these things happen; "I got a bigger bruise from accidentally kneeing the table the other day. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last either. Everything is okay, I promise." Poor guy just loves you so much, he can't stand the thought of you being hurt in any way!

✿ He absolutely adores it when you snuggle up beside him, under his massive coat. It feels like the safest place in the world, and it's so warm - nothing bad can happen under this fortress of feathers! Rosi in general is just a cuddly guy really, holding you at every opportunity, taking your relatively small hands in his giant ones, carrying you whenever and wherever you'll allow him to; always by his chest though, so when he inevitably slips, he doesn't land on you. Being your resident tall, he prefers to pick you up to reach things as opposed to grabbing those things for you, as it means he can hug you at the same time!

✿ Rosinante is absolutely ride or die with you! Whatever your dreams and ambitions, he will do everything in his power to try and help you achieve them. The only caveat is that he will also do the same for his own mission, and sometimes that overtakes him, and he will unknowingly, and definitely unwillingly overlook you at times. He keeps you completely separate from that part of his life - because it's so dangerous, and he never wants to put you in harms way. It can be lonely when he's so focused, or not around, and that's what spurs him to attach himself to you whenever he can.

Doflamingo

✿ The fact you managed to catch his attention at all is honestly a feat in itself. He's a man who has everything (until he goes to jail,) and he always gets what he wants, no matter how he has to go about it - so there must be something that he cannot buy, threaten, or manipulate out of you, or anyone else. There is something about you personally, a fearless spirit, the right kind of sass, the patient and forgiving nature of a god, just something more; you're like a unique treasure, one that he refuses to allow in the public eye, as he is a very selfish man. He basically puts you on a pedestal, catering to every little whim or desire. At least to a point. He won't prioritise you over his machinations, and he can't be soft and tender with you on command. He'll have is moments sure, but they're on his time, and only when you are alone.

✿ He loves to loom over you, manhandle you, generally just manipulate your body, all to remind you just how small and delicate you are. The man is a predator, let's be real, and you will never forget that while you are his favourite, you are still prey in his eyes. While he likes the look of you being the small, timid thing he expects from prey, he adores your looks of defiance, refusing to cower before him. It's part of what proves that you are above everyone else, excluding himself of course, and that you are worthy of his attention. You can sass him, and tell him "No," so long as you do what he says where it matters. He won't tolerate blatant disrespect and insubordination, that's a one way ticket 6ft under. Your relationship is a delicate balance of accepting your place beneath him, but not being so beneath him that you may as well not exist.

✿ In those longed for times when it's just the two of you, he will give you whatever affection you desire, even if it's not something he can really reciprocate. He likes you happy, and his pride means he will not accept that there is something he cannot get or do for you. That's not to say he doesn't love you, he does in his own way; he's just buried that part of him deep down, so deep it may never be found. Perhaps, as time goes on however, with you being a consistent presence in his life, showing him what genuine kindness and compassion are, he may remember somewhat and be able to offer it back to you. Don't hold your breath, though, if it's happening, it's not happening fast. He's certainly a convincing actor, and his mimicked affections feel real enough.

[prettyboykatsuki]

Does methinks have more thoughts on alpha togame they'd like to share?

tags for gender neutral + afab!reader (no mention of specific secondary sex but they can smell togames scent), dubcon (just out of rut shennanigans), mean togame, rough sex, omegaverse fuckery, a mention of face-fucking 18+

SO GLAD U ASKED ANON...

__

Togame tells you about his rut two full weeks in advance and makes a point to emphasize that you're not allowed to see him.

He never tells you no, though sometimes he likes to pretend. His immediate, firm rejection of spending time together during his rut strikes you as odd. Even more, he's being totally unreasonable by refusing to explain to you. You try not to take it heart because Togame is by all other means, perfect. And the way he lets you down is the same as always - kind, relaxed playful. Tells you it's not a big deal but still.

Still. It's unusually serious and worries you all the same.

He won't explain why he can't be with you during his ruts either, doesn't bother with the details and smooths past it when youpry. You snoop around Shishitoren searching for answers, but every member who's been with Togame long enough to know just gives you wide eyes and dodges your question. Choji answers you after some prying, with a wide toothed smile and a shake of his head.

"He's not really himself," And then a little kinder. "He's probably just worried about doing something bad to you. His ruts are kinda scary."

If Choji is saying so, you can't help but believe it's true. Still, Togame is your partner and he's always good to you, albeit a little difficukt. It feels like the least you can do is to be with him through it so he doesn't have to go through it by himself. You try arguing with him but he's always firm, even jokes he'll lock you out of his apartment if you show up.

It's maybe a bad idea for you to go over, but you can't help it. It's the first time he's been in rut in your relationship and the thought of him being by himself troubles you. So you go, you even bring things he might need.

You can immediately feel the suffocating, oppressive air when you arrive to his apartment. It's so strong it makes your skin prickle regardless of your sensitivity to pheromones. They practically seep under the door, make the hairs on your neck stand. A signal to danger, telling you to run while you're ahead.

But you're stubborn, so you stay and ring the door bell. It takes a few times before Togame really answers.

The first thing you notice is how different he looks. His hair is down and his glasses are off and his expression is... hard to describe. Dilated pupils, heaving breaths - something wild about him you rarely see, not even in fights. You remember what Choji says about him not being himself and decide it's accurate. Togame barely looks like himself.

"Why're you..." He shakes his head, covering his face with his hand to cover his nose. "Go home. Now."

You're being stubborn, but it's frustrating. "Let me in. I just want to to help you—"

"Go home. I'm saying this for you. Go."

It's petulant but you shake your head and frown. "I'm not going home."

He gives you a long look, scrubbing a hand over his face. His scent gets stronger, intoxicating - makes you lungs feel hot and your chest tight. You let out a shaky little breath and cross your arms. It takes a minute before you feel yourself be tugged forward. It happens too quickly for you to make any sense of it. Your bag is dropped onto the ground, back pushed against the door while Togame pins your wrists between his hands.

His voice is thick, lacking his usual bravado. "Don't be stubborn and go home." He says, the force of his grip getting tighter as if to drive in his point. "I'm hanging on by a fucking thread right now,"

"I'll be fine," You make sure to meet his eyes. "It's fine even if you hurt me. I'm not gonna break into a million pieces. I'm here willingly because I love you,"

He laughs. There's something caustic to it. "You're really have a talent for testing my patience."

You can feel the threads of his control snap when Togame finally kisses you. It's rough, more teeth than lip - a harsh clattering, a desire to dominate that bleeds itself into the gesture. He rarely reveals so much of his desire towards you with so little coaxing.

His scent is so thick you cant breathe. It's oppressive, washes away your own with no remorse. Your pressed so squarely into the wall there's nowhere for you to go, nowhere to run now even if you wanted too. The fabric of your clothes tears like paper under his grip, leaves you gasping as he grips you. It's bruising and quick, makes your heart hammer half-way between fear and full blown lust.

His voice is muddled with animalistic need but the words - his convictions are spoken with unmistakable clarity. "I won't go easy on you." Another nip, a bite - a harsh hand coming down on your ass that makes you yelp. "I'll fuck you until you cry and make you wish you ran away. Even then, you won't get any sympathy from me."

True to his word, Togame shows you no mercy. He fucks you right at is doorway with your face pressed to the wood and makes you squirt on his welcome mat. Fucks you with a leg up in the entrance to his living room, pinning you down even when you want to run away. His entire house ends up soiled before you even make it the bedroom - cum dripping on his counters, saliva from face-fucking you staining his couch. He fucks you up against a window and holds you up while he does it once - telling you his neighbors are going to see if you don't cum on his cock fast enough.

By the time you get to his room, your whole body is throbbing from all you've endured. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his mirror and you're covered in bitemarks and hickies. Too fucked out in a daze, Togame is still relentless. Still hard after cumming in you so many times and still with enough energy to pin your knees up - fucking you with your spine at an angle with just as much aggression as before.

He's barely sober enough to collect himself when your gazes meet for the first time in a while.

He smiles at you and it should be scary but it arouses you instead. "My ruts last days," He tells you, meeting your mouth in a sloppy kiss - through drool and sweat "Let's do out best together."

You can barely breathe, nodding in a daze as you resign yourself to fate

[still-searching-for-something]

What gets me is not that Donald Trump won. It's that he won the popular vote. It's that a majority of American voters said, "Yes, I want this guy as my president."

They deliberately, knowingly decided the fascist, felonious, antidemocratic candidate who'd organized a coup attempt and got away with it needed the presidency. No American voter doesn't know who Trump is. They have no excuse. They knew he stood for antidemocracy.

But he also stood for a stronger economy! Lower gas prices! Cheaper groceries! Lower taxes!

And most Americans decided those things were more important to them than democracy. They've, as a majority, decided democracy < convenience.

"But the real problem was voter turnout and apathy!"

Okay, so then most Americans--85.7 million--either voted for the fascist or couldn't be assed to lift a finger to save democracy, compared to 68 million. 55% of Americans either deliberately chose cheaper groceries over democracy or were too pathetically lazy to give a fuck either way. Much better. It's a human choice to make, to vote for their wallet than their grand abstract ideology, but it's one that hurts all of us, including them, including Ukraine and the EU (and Palestine, for the record!) and all future generations to come. It's a selfish, short-sighted decision that betrays a deep rot in our priorities.

I thought we understood that sometimes, we have to take a hit as a nation to preserve our democracy and our freedoms. Is the same nation that took rationing during the Second World War to defeat the Nazis and the Japanese Empire? That lost hundreds of thousands of men to put down an illegal, treasonous rebellion?

And today, we've decided our rights can be exchanged for cheaper eggs, milk, and butter?

"Oh, Harris ran a bad campaign. She tried to appease everyone which pleased no one. She didn't appeal to the right demographics on the right issues. She dodged questions, she was entitled, she was--"

Yeah, I don't care.

In fact, I agree with you, but frankly, the economic policies and foreign policies and immigration policies and social policies of either candidate are completely fucking irrelevant if one of them doesn't adhere to the basic democratic rule of accepting that democracy's validity and existence. If a vote for one candidate threatens the democratic health of that nation, and a vote for the other--regardless of what other consequences it may have--doesn't, then morally, you have to vote for democratic one.

Is that unreasonable? Maybe. Yeah, Democrats should have run a better campaign more focused on the bread and butter issues people care about. Like Clinton said, 'It's the economy, stupid!' Democrats had a responsibility to run the best campaign they could have, given the stakes.

But that still doesn't justify a vote for antidemocracy. Call me crazy, but I think a vote for authoritarianism is unreasonable. "They were a little patronizing and I want to shave a few bucks off my grocery bill, so I'll vote for the fascist!" is still an unhinged and indefensible conclusion to arrive at, regardless of how valid your claims of being hurt at the cash register or being patronized are.

I've lost any and all faith in Americans. I honestly thought we were better than this. I really did. And I don't know how or if a democracy can function if a majority of its electorate are willing to sacrifice democratic norms for short-term benefits.

Fuck Republicans and every single person who voted against democracy because their grocery bill was too high. May you get exactly the kind of government you deserve and voted for.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Sore. || EJ x Reader. You took a pretty big fall on a mission, and it's got Jack worried about you.

“How are you feeling?” Jack’s voice is level, but you can sense the concern and worry in it regardless as he bends over you.

“I’m fine, honey. I promise.” You try to assure him, but he doesn’t believe your words. He settles down next to you in bed, holding you close and staying by your side so he can monitor you. 

You’d taken quite the fall during your mission yesterday, and Jack has been on edge since it happened, worried that something more serious could’ve happened to you, especially with all the bruises becoming visible on your skin.

“I’ve got nothing to worry about with a doctor like you by my side, Jack.” You whisper into him as you curl up into his chest.

Laying on your back has grown too painful from the bruising and soreness settling into it, so you’ve been spending the majority of your time curled up with Jack to comfort you. His arms circle around you, extremely gentle and careful as he pulls you closer to him, trying not to cause you any more pain than you’re already feeling. You can feel the anxiety seeping out of him, his body tense in concern. You make a weak attempt at massaging his back as you hug him, and it settles him out of his thoughts enough to curl around you.

“I promise I’ll be okay. I already feel way better than yesterday.” You soothe him with a few kisses to his temple and he can’t help but sigh into you.

“I just wish I’d been there to save you. To prevent it from happening.” His voice is unusually quiet, and it makes you hold him tighter.

“But if you hadn’t caught me you would’ve just blamed yourself. You’ve already done so much for me honey, you got me all patched up and checked out, and you’ve been taking such good care of me.” He wants to argue with your words, but he finds himself unable to.

He knows you’re right. If he had been on that mission and failed to prevent your fall he would’ve just blamed it all on himself and gone into another spiral of self-loathing which wouldn’t be helpful for either of you. Jack just can’t stand the thought of you being so hurt, especially when it’s a work injury. He knows you’ll be fine, all of your vitals are great and your pain is decreasing as the days pass, but his anxiety just won’t leave him.

Jack curls further into your arms, and you grasp onto him tighter, stroking his hair affectionately as time passes you both gently. You’ll be okay, you both know it, but you also know that Jack’s greatest fear is losing you, and a fall like that is going to have him scared for a little while. He’ll do his best to care for you, though, just as he always does, and you’ll eagerly accept his care and repay him with all the love and affection you can give him, just as you always do. Jack moves to press some affectionate kisses to your lips, trying to force his love and emotions for you into them. You return them in kind, sighing as you melt into his body, his hands gently roaming your skin, avoiding all your majorly sore spots. He doesn't know what he'd do without you here, loving him the way you always do, and he doesn't want to find out.

You’ll just have to get used to Jack’s developing penchant for trying to increasingly make your work gear more and more safe, to the extent he asks you if it would be unreasonable to add a punch of padding and bubble wrap to your work uniform. He says it out of love and concern, he promises.

[astraystayyh]

Jeongin x reader. Hurt/comfort. Reader is sad and doesn't know why.

You are curled around yourself in a ball.

Nothing happened in particular. You don't even remember when you started feeling this way. But suddenly all you knew was the tightness in your chest, and the overwhelming need to be home.

Home wasn't the four walls you've lived in for what feels like forever. But the strong arms of your boyfriend Jeongin. But he was still at work, and you couldn't find it in you to text him. What would you even say? I miss you. I don't know what I'm feeling. This house is too bare without you. Please come to me.

And you knew he'd come. You knew he'd drop his work and come running to you, because he loved you. He's told you and shown you countless times, again and again. But you couldn't tear him away from his responsibilities. You couldn't be selfish about his love for you.

So you stay curled around yourself in a ball, your arms tightly hugging your knees. You want to cry, but it feels as if the tears in your body are like dried ink. You squeeze your eyes shut, but nothing comes out. And you are left there begging for a release, for something, anything to lift off this horrible weight off your chest.

An hour has gone by, then two, then three. Your arms are numb, and your eyes ache from staring ahead at nothing for so long. Jeongin is home now, you can hear him placing down his keys on the tray you made together in one of your pottery dates. But you can't find it in you to call out to him. You've sat in silence for so long, you were almost afraid of what would happen if you were to disrupt it.

"Baby?" Jeongin calls out when he opens the door to your bedroom, and you want to see him. You want to snap your head towards him, but it's as if your body has a mind of its own. You can't move. You are crushing down under the weight of this unreasonable sadness.

"My love?" he tries again as he gently climbs on top of the bed. His warm hand rests on your thigh and the contact startles you- as if you were under a spell that his touch just broke. Suddenly, ugly sobs are heaving through your body, and his name spills out of your mouth like a broken plea.

"I'm here, I'm here," he rapidly says, wrapping his arms around your figure as best as he can, trying his hardest to contain the sadness overflowing from you. He's whispering something in your ear and you strain to hear it- it's getting lost between the thousands of voices swimming around in your head.

"I'm here. You are okay. I'm here," he repeats, his tone more urgent, "It's okay. You are okay. I promise," he doesn't stop talking. His deep voice travels across your body, and rests on your every atom, reverberating endlessly within you.

"I need you," you finally manage to utter. You don't know what you need. You still don't know what sparked all of this. Where was all of these feelings hiding for so long? But Jeongin knows. He'll know for you.

"You got me. I'm not going anywhere," his voice is assured and it calms your frenzy for a bit. He's your home. He'll stay with you. You'll figure it out together.

You are still curled around yourself in a ball, and Jeongin is curled around you. Your chest is snug against his back, and your thighs are against his knees, and his hands are on top of yours. He's all encompassing, holding you so tightly to him, leaving no room for sadness to exist between the two of you.

[toxicanonymity]

Cargo. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 4)

3.1k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader 18+ / pt 1 / master list

His arms loosen and you turn around to face him.  Bedhead is unreasonably sexy on him.   You try to kiss him and he dodges you again, going for your neck instead. . . He starts giving you a light hickey.  "You're evil," you say, pulling away to look at him.  He smiles wickedly, then it fades.  | next: part 5

Thank you @dark-scape for the mood board (and sounding board).

CONTENT WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ Noncon somnophilia just the tip (don't get too excited) dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (M receiving), alcohol, reader wears his shirt, excessive dialogue, elvis reference, sex work references, NO HOG BBQ YET SORRY- It took on a life of its own, needed its own part (next Sunday) and I think you'll see why the pacing is better that way.

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-face All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

-

The hotel shampoo and body wash smell like Joel after his shower, which makes you want to take the bottles with you.  After your bath, you lounge on your bed in a towel, air-drying, finishing the movie, and replaying the night in your mind.  Mainly how hot Joel looked between your legs.  You also dwell on the fact that he wouldn’t really kiss you.  Apparently, he won't sleep in the same bed with you either.  It hurts.  Like, it's physically painful.  

You go across the suite to Joel's room for a shirt to sleep in.  His door is cracked open and there's a green flannel folded on top of his luggage.  It’s not weather-appropriate and you wonder if he brought it for you.   He's tucked in, already asleep on his stomach with his shirt off, a massive arm sticking out over the white comforter and another under his pillow.   You drop your towel to put the shirt on – leisurely, hoping he wakes up to the tempting sight – but he's already sleeping soundly.   You've never seen his face so relaxed, but his brow is still somewhat furrowed.  

You sit down on his bed to fasten a couple of buttons.  He doesn't  wake up.  The irony doesn't escape you that you're watching him sleep when he's supposed to be the creep.  Why doesn't he try to fuck you, you wonder.  His words to Chad echo in your mind: If she told her father, you wouldn't be breathing.  But that's obviously different, you think. That was about someone breaking your heart and physically intimidating you.   

-

The hotel bed is tightly made, with the comforter tucked under the mattress on the side Joel isn't using.  You wonder if you could slip inside without waking him up.  You move the pillows out of the way, then slowly, inch by inch, wedge yourself under the sheets. When you're almost settled, he stirs.  He blinks a few times, squints at you, then sighs, "Trouble . . ."  He moves one of his pillows and hugs it, effectively putting something between you.  It stings.  You try to sleep but you end up sniffling.  

He hears you and wakes up again.  "C'mere, damnit," he half-whispers, half-asleep.  His gruff bedroom whisper makes you wet.  He lifts up his arm but doesn't turn on his side or move the pillow.  You rotate the pillow slightly and rest your head on it with his arm over your chest.  You drift off sooner than you expect.  

-

At some point in your sleep, you roll over facing away from him.  You wake up in the fetal position with Joel’s arm draped over you.  Joel has turned onto his side, too.  Your upper back is just barely against his chest.  You scoot your lower body backwards to spoon with him, and your naked ass meets the tip of his cock.  Arousal shoots through you like a bolt of lightning.  It's the first time you've actually had contact with it.  You didn't even realize he was naked. 

At the first contact, his hips instinctively press his cock up against you, sending all the blood in your body to your core.  You stifle a moan, not stopping to wonder why you don't want to wake him up.  You carefully maneuver your ass to nestle his cock between your thighs.  He thrusts in his sleep, gliding firm and wet against your folds, reaching your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

You unbutton your shirt then nudge his hand into it. His hand twitches and so does his cock. It pulls back a little and the tip is right at your entrance. Your hips tilt, nestling it there, the top curve of the head resting just inside without truly breaching you.  You could sink onto him right now.  It would be so easy.  But you want him to do it himself.  

You're absolutely throbbing, aching for him.  He pulls back again with a sigh, then his hard tip bypasses your tight, dripping hole and glides to your clit again and you softly moan.  You adjust your chest, wanting the movement of your breast to prompt his hand to cup around it.  But instead of cupping your breast, his hand drifts up your chest.  Then, it wraps loosely around your throat.

His voice is quiet but stern as his cock retreats then slides firmly against your clit with an aggressive thrust.  His hand applies light pressure around your throat.  “What’d I tell ya last night?”  

You remember it well, how you foolishly claimed you weren't gonna fuck him and he replied, oh, I'm not gonna let ya, sugar.  Blood drains from your face and your heart races. You scoff but don't say anything.  Having made his point, his hand goes slack again.  Humiliation drowns out your arousal and you begin to scoot away, but he follows you, effortlessly restraining you with one enormous arm.  

“Calm down," he says into your hair, then half-whispers under your ear, "I’m still gonna take care of ya,” as he palms your breast.  His hard cock nestles against your crack. 

"Lucky me," you say sarcastically and begin to squirm away, but both his arms wrap around you.  In a mocking tone, you parrot, "Take care of me," and add, "you're an actual whore, aren't you?"  A veiny hand slowly works your breast then trails down your torso and digs between your legs.  That’s all it takes for your arousal to return.  

He gathers your ample wetness and uses his middle and ring fingers in a way he must have been perfecting since before you were born.   You gasp and your back arches with tension building rapidly in your core.  His bicep flexes under your neck as his other hand slowly gropes your breasts.  His stiff cock slowly ruts against your ass while he touches you like you've never been touched before.  

He grunts and you gasp on the edge of your climax.  He softly bites your neck, and it sends you.  He sucks your neck as you come.   When your body finishes convulsing into his, his arms loosen and you turn around to face him. 

-

Bedhead is unreasonably sexy on him.   You can't resist. You try to kiss him.  

He fucking dodges you again, going for your neck instead.   "Haven't you seen Pretty woman?" Yeah, the one where a sex worker won’t kiss johns on the mouth because it’s too emotional . . .Joel starts giving you a light hickey.  

"You're evil," you say, pulling away to look at him.  

He smiles wickedly, then it fades.  He opens his mouth to say something but stops short when you reach down and grab his cock.  Your mouth falls open at its hardness and the fact that his hand is already around it. 

He winces at your icy fingers. 

You get up on your knees and straddle his legs, pushing the plush luxury comforter behind you.  You fold at the hips and take a moment to admire his cock in your fist and breathe in his musk.  Your thumb lightly traces a vein, and he exhales with a soft grunt.  You look up and are greeted with a twinkle in his eye and a barely perceptible smirk.  You want to wipe that smirk off his face.  

You quickly succeed by holding eye contact while you wrap your lips around his swollen tip and tongue the slit.  It’s already salty with pre-cum.  He takes a deep breath and his lips part just barely.   He puts another pillow behind his head for a better view. His face falls into a trance.  When you begin to suck, he swallows and his jaw clenches.    His eyes darken. You bob your head on his cock, taking as much of his shaft as you can without gagging, stroking the rest with your hand. 

“Fuck,” he pants.  His quads tense under you and his breathing changes. His hips rock gently into your mouth.  Your eyes water as you keep blowing him.  Then, his hand joins yours.  

“Where ya want it?” he asks somewhat urgently.  What a gentleman. 

You don’t answer, you simply take his hand off his cock and place it on his stomach.  You slow your sucking and relax your tongue.  His hips thrust gently into your mouth and his  hand floats to your head, but you send it back to his stomach again  

“God almighty,” he groans.  “Fuck me.”  It’s a turn-on seeing him so desperate.  

You edge him until you’re ready to see him come. Then, you suck with your whole mouth, your cheeks caving in as you firmly tongue the underside.  Within seconds, his hips lift and stay lifted as he erupts in your mouth with a groan.  His warm load hits the roof of your mouth first, and it’s so many ropes you lose count.  You swallow, then return to the head of the bed. 

-

You put your head on his chest and he strokes your shoulder.  

“You’re the evil one,” he says, and you bask in self-satisfaction for a minute.  “Nah, you’re right.  You don’t wanna believe it, but you’re right.” 

“About what?” 

He sits up and your eyes glue to his inner bicep flexing as he reaches for his phone.  His brow furrows as he reads something then dismisses it.  Then he puts on the song Trouble by Elvis.  He meant you’re right that he’s evil.  

You hold out your arm and say, “I’m cringing so hard I have goosebumps.”  

“Just for that, I’m gonna play DJ allll mornin’,” he says.  He sings along as he walks to the shower, “well I’m evil, so don’t you mess around with me. . .” 

. . .

Before Joel takes you back to your apartment, you have brunch at a restaurant overlooking the riverwalk.  In the absence of other options, you wear your leather pants with the lacy top.  You both get bloody marys. He wears his Ray-Bans and a white t-shirt, jeans as tight as always, and sits back lazily with one elbow over the back of his chair and his knees spread wide.  

Your phone dings with a text from another family friend, Frank, asking if you’re coming home for the Independence Day barbecue, and it gets you thinking.

“Dad’s back this week,” you say to Joel.  You instantly regret it for killing the mood, but it’s the elephant in the room.  “Y’all still gonna barbecue?” 

He takes a sip of his drink, then puts it back down.  He looks at the river and furrows his brow, then his eyes return to you.  “Why wouldn’t we?  You gonna talk to him?”

“I dunno,” you say, not wanting to show your hand, but you’re leaning against snitching any time soon.  

Joel tenses and his nose twitches. “What are you gonna tell’m?”  He rubs one side of his beard.  A waiter approaches from behind, but Joel doesn’t see him.  “Gonna tell’m you climbed into my bed?  Tried to fuck yourself on my cock?"  There’s a bite to his words.  The waiter stops in his tracks and awkwardly tries to pretend he wasn’t coming to your table.  You look at the waiter and shrug and he gulps before nodding at you in acknowledgement.  Joel looks over his shoulder then shakes his head at you and smirks as the waiter walks away. 

Climbed into his bed. . . tried to fuck yourself on his cock. . . It sounds so bad when he puts it that way.  Maybe it was.  Your cheeks burn.

You sigh.  "I wasn't -” 

Joel raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Just the tip," you protest. 

Joel nods thoughtfully. 

“I dunno what I was thinking,” you admit.  You cross your arms and slouch down in your seat. 

"It's never just the tip,"  Joel says. 

"Why didn't you want it?" You ask pathetically 

He sighs.  "Nothin' to do with want.”  He takes a deep breath and leans back.  He looks at the river, exhales, then adds, "Trust me. . .Fuck."  He takes a sip of his bloody mary and looks back at you. 

"What then?”

The way he looks like he’s racking his brain, you wonder if he’s holding back just to drive you crazy.  It certainly has your attention. In fact, you didn’t know how badly you needed to fuck him until last night . . .just minutes after he said he wasn’t going to let you. 

Finally, he says, "It's bad for you, sugar."

“What is? Your evil cock?”

He smirks then shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks at the river again.  “I dunno what to tell ya. I've seen a lot.  Don't wanna put ya through it.  Shoot, look at your stepmom, she's damn near lost her mind.”

“You're just that good,” you roll your eyes.  You have every reason to believe he is. 

Joel sighs.  “Nothin' to do with good. Shit, I’m not good, I'm just grown."  He takes a sip of his bloody mary.  "Don't you know any hot professors? Take 'em for a spin, you'll see."

You brush it off as his crude way of being modest.  He could probably make bank as an actual gigolo from what you’ve seen. 

"Then what is it?" you wonder.  He gives it some thought.  

"Reckon it’s ‘cause ya can't have me.  No one can. I'm un-have-able."  

“Why don’t you ever settle down?” 

“Shoot, I dunno.  When I was your age, I was already a father.  Maybe I went backwards.”

You nod, appreciative of his effort to give a real answer. 

He continues, “But ya know, monogamy just ain’t right for some people.  Hell, even in a marriage.  You’d be surprised how many are open.” 

“How many what? Marriages?” You suspect his sample is skewed. 

“Yeah. Relationships, marriages.”  He crosses his legs.  “Alright, my turn to ask you somethin’.”

Your heart rate spikes, hoping he won’t revisit the just-the-tip incident.  

“Why'd you stand there and watch that night, hmm?" He cocks an eyebrow.  It’s the first time either of you bring up the moment that started all of this.  Sometimes, when you’re with him, you forget about it entirely. 

You laugh at his audacity, then counter with, "Why'd you stand there and finish?"

"Easy. So I could nut.”  He flashes his eyebrows with a casual smirk, then downs the rest of his drink. 

"You did not just say nut.  God, you're such a boomer."

"Alright, let's get outta here ‘fore we traumatize another waiter."  He throws more than enough cash on the table then stands up and pulls up his jeans.  He puts his hands on his hips and cocks a leg out, looking out over the river while you chug the rest of your drink.

-

When you get in the truck, Joel puts his phone on bluetooth and “Call Me,” the theme to American Gigolo, blasts on.  He’s so lame.  You shake your head at him and he has that subtle Dad joke smirk.  His bicep stretches that t-shirt so nicely. 

Halfway to your apartment, some kind of restricted call pops up and his phone automatically answers it.  You swear it’s your father’s voice on the line that says, “You’re offline.  What’s your 20?”  Joel’s face changes entirely, and something tightens in your chest.  

He scrambles to turn off bluetooth and puts the phone to his ear.  You can still somewhat hear the other end of the line.  

Joel glances at you and says, “Uhhh-”

“We’ve gotta move,” your dad says. 

“It’s broad daylight,” Joel counters. 

“The Bureau tracked down his number two and he’s on the move.” 

Joel seems frustrated.  “Why don’t you get Jesse?”

Your dad says, “He’s comin’ but they’re rollin’ deep.  We need our best shot or it’s gonna be a shitshow.”  Your heart is a mile a minute.

“Dad?” you ask meekly, too nervous to fully commit to asking.

“What was that?” your Dad asks. “Who was that?” You don't say anything else. You feel weak.

Joel glances at you regretfully.  “Damnit, gimme ten and I’ll call you.”

“We gotta move, Miller. I need you back online.”

Joel sighs  “Working on it.  I’ve got cargo, k?” 

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.  "What kind of cargo?”

Joel looks at you again and answers, "precious.”  He hangs up.

Joel hits the steering wheel angrily.  He speeds back toward your apartment, clenching his jaw as his driving intensifies.   You’re shaking.  That was almost certainly your father, and it didn’t sound anything like a military training exercise, or a construction project of Joel’s, for that matter.  

Joel silently fumes.  

“Was that my dad?” you ask with watery eyes.   He takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out as he exhales.  Before he can answer, you foolishly let him off the hook with another question.  “Did you just call me cargo?"

“Sorry sugar, no time right now.”  You ride in silence, bracing yourself as he careens around a corner. 

The tears in your eyes threaten to overflow, then one does.  

-

Joel pulls up to your apartment.  He waits with one hand still on the steering wheel for you to get out, but when he looks at you, he sees that big fat tear run down your cheek and his face softens. 

“Aw, shoot,” he says, and unbuckles. “I’m an asshole.”  He gets out and jogs over to the passenger side.  He opens the door for you and you slide out of the chair lazily, numbly, not quite wanting to meet his eyes.  

“Hey,” he says, and tilts your chin up.  Suddenly, it seems like he’s in no hurry at all.  He takes off his Ray-Bans and looks at you like he’s trying to heal you with his eyes.  You finally make eye contact and take a shaky breath, trying not to full-on sob.  His thumb brushes away your tears, then the same hand cradles the back of your head.   You stand there reading each other’s eyes.  Slowly, your head begins to pull like a magnet toward his lips.  You almost feel like his hand is ever so subtly pulling you that way.  You steel yourself for rejection anyway.  But then, Joel’s head drifts toward yours.   

His beard lightly prickles your skin as your lips lock and his free arm wraps around you.  You’re caught off guard, but in less than a second, you don’t care about anything else in the world.  Joel’s tongue parts your lips and you accept it hungrily.  His lips are soft but strong as they suck you into him.  Your mouths are needy for each other.  His hand behind your head pulls you further into him.  You kiss like you’re sharing a last breath of air.  Then, he seals the moment on your upper lip and pulls away.  The whole kiss can’t be more than ten seconds, tops. 

“Gotta go, Trouble.” he whispers, then swallows solemnly, looking down.   “I’m sorry.”  

He jumps in his truck and peels off.  

-

next: part 5

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thank you all so much for reading and engaging. y'all are the best ILY!!!