#and saying 'I do not have to raise you to lead so I can raise you gently'

[pseudowho]

"--and this is the staffroom," Gojo sing-songed, swinging open the door on your First Day Tour, with you a few steps behind him, "--ah! And that's Nanamin. Say hi, Nanamin!"

A tall, suited blond man looked up from his spot on the sofa as you peered in; at first, he simply nodded to you, disinterested. Then, Gojo spoke again while leading you out.

"--he's not very fun, don't worry-- no sense of humour."

Your final glimpse as the door closed, was of the blond man's irritated scowl.

It was true; Kento clearly didn't make people laugh, for he was either too mean or too subtle to be funny. This was the case, at least, until you. And you had no idea what your laughter did to him.

You had formed an alliance of respect, an easy bond that would have been camaraderie if not for Kento's standoffishness. You felt him hover nearby on joint missions, close enough to lunge to your rescue, but far enough that he could resist your magnetism.

Talking, and surveying the abandoned school, you spoke aloud as you walked down the stairs.

"So perhaps I'll take the East Wing, and you take the We--ergh!"

You reeled back, having walked headfirst into a buckled ceiling. Kento stepped to your aid, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and lifting your chin to look at your forehead. He huffed, barely a puff of breath through his nose, wiping dust from your forehead before grumbling.

"You'll be alright. Not much in there, anyway."

You burst into laughter, and Kento electrified, absolutely rigid. You patted his chest, still giggling as you walked away, cooing back over your shoulder in a way that utterly melted him.

"So mean."

You soon learned that Nanami Kento was possibly the funniest man at Jujutsu High. Dry and unforgiving in a way that made your brittle colleagues crumble, you found yourself, instead, choking back laughter every time he crippled one with another savage put-down.

When Yuuji arrived late to a mission, Kento stepped over to him and, poe-faced, pulled up his shirtsleeve to show Yuuji his wrist.

"This," Kento hummed, flat, "is a watch. You can buy one at any good supermarket."

When a waiter slopped coffee over Kento's shoulder, Kento dabbed at it to the waiter's frantic, apologetic bowing. Kento raised a placating hand and insisted to the confused waiter.

"It's alright. I never liked this suit anyway."

When you stood at the staffroom window with him, watching a monsoon in companionable silence, Kento murmured over the rim of his mug.

"Lovely day."

He had timed it just-so, and barely concealed his lopsided smirk when you choked on your tea. Shoko walked in, drenched, looking at you and Kento in dismay. You coughed, opening your mouth to speak, but Kento got there first, firing shots.

"Is it raining?"

Shoko scoffed, sputtering, while you buckled against the windowsill.

Kento grabbed a hand towel and an umbrella, heading to the door. As Shoko reached for the towel, Kento pressed the umbrella into her hands instead, his expression flat, but his voice edged with a feral pleasure that made you come undone.

"You'll need this."

Kento's meanness was tempered only by his self-deprecation, and when you took as good as you gave, you felt his icey facade melt away completely, revealing such warmth.

It was no wonder you were drawn to each other, when the only reason neither of you laughed together, was because you were in a constant stand-off for who could remain poe-faced the longest. Kento always won.

Still, you felt the need to break him; you had cracked smiles, or the occasional chuckle out of him, but nothing more. You knew nothing more than the truest irony would do it.

The day came; you arrived, to your usual staffroom rendezvous, covered in blood. Kento paled, abandoning his book to rise immediately and reach you in three long strides.

"--you're hurt-- we'll go to Sho--"

"Kento. Stop. It's not my blood-- it's Gojo's."

Kento did a double-take, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, so you explained.

"Gojo invited himself to teach me about Curses that are 'above my paygrade', so he took me to one. I told him this Curse was clearly more powerful than it looked, and Gojo told me to step back so he could handle it. Said he'd even do it without his Infinity on. So I stepped back."

Kento's nose flared, barely perceptible.

"...and?"

You took a deep breath. "So, Gojo has a broken nose--"

Kento broke down with a wheeze, before bursting into a rich, deep rolling laughter that split the clouds with sun. His hands clasped the windowsill, his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders shook with wicked, throaty mirth.

You felt yourself becoming drunk off him, utterly intoxicated by his laughter. Kento couldn't stop himself, trembling with schadenfreude to the point of indecency.

Finally, sighing and straightening as if exhausted, Kento wiped his eyes with the side of his finger, and smiled at you with sweet adoration. Laughter still threatened to break through as he begged you.

"Would you-- would you like to go out for dinner? With me?"

You paused, your expression pained.

"Ah...no. No, thank you."

Kento froze, his face beginning to fall. You looked down at yourself, and announced, still deadpan.

"It's just-- I'm covered in blood, you see--"

That sent Kento over the edge again.

You remained content throughout the years of your marriage, for Nanami Kento to be viewed by others as boring and humourless. You found yourself jealously greedy of his rare laughter, anyway.

After marriage, you viewed it as the highest badge of honour to make him laugh like that while he was buried inside you.

[local-demon-in-your-area]

Alright, this post has gotten super big and attracted tons of controversy and weird opinions so I thought I would clarify my position one last time :

No a militarized intervention, be it UN, US or whoever else, isn't a good idea. Bombs are never the answer, violence is never the answer, forcing an enormous change on people who's culture and ideas you don't understand is never the answer.

It seems the Malala Fund is seen as controversial for reasons that are unknown to me at the moment. In the meantime donating to Women for Afghan Women or to RAWA for those who can or want is still a good thing.

No Islam and religions aren't necessarily the problem. I am atheist myself, although raised in Christianity and while I absolutely believe that religion can be used and is used as a weapon in the world today, I do not believe that blaming them (instead of the people fostering an unsafe environment using them) is helpful.

Afghan Women don't necessarily want to live European/US women and that should not be the goal. The goal is for them to be safe, first and foremost, and have a choice as to what they want. The biggest thing that feminism can do is listen to Afghan Women. What do they need ? What can we provide ? They are the ones living in the situation, they know best than anybody.

Afghan Women being part of an Islamic culture doesn't mean that everything happening to them is normal or desired. The Taliban regime arrived by force and rules by force. Their society is not built on solid foundations, and without change it's certain that it won't last long. The problem is the damage they will do until it crumbles, and the damage that will be done while it's happening. The main victim of catastrophes are always the ones at the bottom of the social pyramid and in Afghanistan, it's Women. That's why we're fighting with them.

To clarify : I am against the very idea of a social pyramid. But because it exists, it has to be taken into account when deciding how to deal with things and how to provoke change.

I've had some wild comments about transidenty somehow so : to know if Afghan trans people are in danger, ask Afghan trans people. If you look at what witnesses and refugees are saying, all trans people are in danger. No they're not the danger. No transwomen are not just men trying to touch women by hiding as women. They face the same stigma as any other woman, and can be treated even worse when outed. How did you all decide they were the problem or that Afghan Women could just "become trans" to escape the oppressive regime like. How. Please. What the hell.

Stop being mean. I'm just a person who made a post on tumblr. This post may have gotten big but I still don't have the influence of other bloggers or people reblogging this post. I can't monitor everything. I can't even look at all the reblog because I don't have time. I can't answer everything. If you feel wronged because somebody said something in the reblogs, confront them, not me.

Once again I insist : I tried to educate myself but I can't guarantee I knew where to look and remembered it all correctly. Once again, I am just a random person on tumblr. If you think I should truly know something, you can go to my asks directly, otherwise there's a chance I won't see it. I don't know everything, be kind.

This post was made in the present tense but is in fact about the new law announced recently. Its details are unclear but it would essentially stop women from hearing each other pray (at least in public spaces) and other added things which many fear could lead to a total ban (if the details in the law don't immediately put it in action). As some have pointed out, women are currently still able to speak to each other in Afghanistan, but that may not last long.

I'm not american. Stop bringing the whole "Americans say this because they want to invade" argument, I'm not fucking American. I don't think of myself as a saviour. I don't think of myself as better. I just made a post about an info I saw that was bugging me, and needed to express just how wrong it felt somewhere. Don't assume I have or should have all the answers. I'm not even old enough to vote in my country. Keep that in mind when interacting.

This is one post out of hundreds people will see today. Yes it has an impact, but that doesn't mean it somehow makes me responsible for every single deranged idea somebody may have when seeing this. The average person will just like this post and move on with their lives, whether you think it's good or not. When interacting remember that I can't be expected to carry everything on one post's shoulder, nor that this post will somehow determine how people see Afghan Women for the next 30 years to come.

The amount of comments and people deciding that I was responsible for all of this because I made one fucking post about the subject is making me sick so. This is the last time I interact with my own post. I will stop responding or looking at reblogs and comments. I'll keep this post up because I do hope it reaches somebody who decides to donate or join local action to help but for the sake of my mental health (once again, just a random teenager online) I will not update it any longer.

And please remember that supporting local actions will always be more helpful than arguing with some strangers on the internet

This has been a psa or whatever

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't speak to each other Afghanistan

Women. Can't. Speak. To. Each. Other. In. Afghanistan.

No conversations

No hearing another woman's voice, no hearing her speak or pray

No way to share experiences no way to ask questions no way to organize

And if you ban education then they can't communicate by writing either

Women can't speak to each other in Afghanistan

Women can't communicate with other women in Afghanistan

People can't communicate with other people

That's how low we've gotten

Please don't forget about them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

“Come on, doll,” Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently. 

His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesn’t let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room. 

He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you don’t think you’ll ever be used to that. 

“Sisters,” he declares brightly, “that is what I will call you from now on.” 

He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly. 

“And you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,” he says. 

“Sir,” Kitty moves towards your younger sister. 

“I ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,” Barnes explains. “And we get you all settled where you need to be.” 

Your sisters blink at you then each other. You can’t say it out loud. That makes it real. 

Barnes turns on his heel, “speaking of loose ends, I should go.” 

He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isn’t the same as when you kiss his ring, it isn’t deference, no it is a show of ownership. 

“Have a good night,” you say at last. 

He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, “it’s already spectacular, doll.” 

He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name. 

“What’s going on?” She appears in the doorway. 

You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge.” 

“Stop,” you try to tug your hand back. 

“You’re marrying him?” Kitty’s voice deflates by the last syllable. “Why?” 

You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. “To keep us safe.” 

“Us? We’ll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--” 

“And then what? It’s not enough to last forever,” you argue. “Even if we can find work, we’ll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a week’s experience down at the diner.” 

“We can start now--” 

“We can start now and never reach the finish line,” you insist. “Kitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isn’t a life you walk away from, even if he’s dead.” 

Adrienne sniffles. She’s on the edge of tears again. 

“So, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?” Kitty challenges. 

“He can make sure that neither of you have to--” 

“We don’t need you to be our martyr,” Kitty argues. 

“I’m not--” you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that you’re all trapped for that moment of vengeance. “Kitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?” 

She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men. 

“We could all go. Disappear.” 

“And they wouldn’t find us? How far could we get, really?” 

“Not far,” Adrienne pipes in. “Kitty, would you rather daddy still be here?” 

Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares. 

“I could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldn’t be you. I’m the oldest--” 

“It is me,” you say, “and it could be any one of us but this is how it is. It’s... not the worst.” 

“It’s not?” Kitty says. “That man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didn’t flinch.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“No, you don’t know,” Kitty insists, “you can’t be sure that he isn’t like daddy.” 

She’s right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it can’t erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it. 

“If it keeps you two from men like daddy--” 

“Stop,” Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. “None of us deserve it.” 

“You stop,” you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. “Should I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?” 

She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration. 

“You tell me,” she points her finger at you. You’re almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, she’s gentle, but she has your mother’s quiet strength. “You tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.” 

“Kitty,” you murmur. 

Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all. 

“No, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,” she snarls. “I will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thought—I thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.” She curls her lip and exhales heavily. “So, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you don’t even try to cover it up. One bruise...” she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. “I sound like him.” She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. “I sound like daddy. I’m just so... tired.” 

You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sister’s shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes. 

“You will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesn’t change that,” you say. “We stick together, no matter what.” 

“Oh, we will,” Kitty insists, “I will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.” 

“Kitty, Ade,” you look from one to the other, “no one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.” 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Rat in the Mouse Cage

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Summary: There's a rat on base, and all evidence seems to be pointing to you.

Warnings: lowkey mean!soap, angst, language, angst, ptsd, angry!ghost, more of mouse's backstory??,

Word Count: 5.5K

A/n: here it is, the angsty one. I had SO much fun writing this and I reaaalllly hope you guys enjoy! The next few parts are in progress but you should see them soon!

~*~

Soap opens the door to the boardroom, a room you've never been in before, and you follow him when he motions you into the room.

Captain Price is seated at the table, his eyes focused on a file in his hands.

The air is tense, and you're immediately on edge.

"Have a seat," Soap says, his voice hard.

You comply, sitting across from Price anxiously.

"Is... everything okay?" You finally ask, looking between the two men.

Price sighs and sets his paper down, finally lifting his gaze to yours.

"No. Everything's not okay."

You feel dizzy with how quickly the blood leaves your face.

"Ghost... is okay?" You ask after a long moment, squeezing your hands together as you prepare yourself for the worst.

"Yes, Ghost is fine."

You frown, glancing around.

"Where is he?"

Price and Soap exchange glances, the latter standing at the closed door with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

You've never seen him look so... angry before.

"Listen, I'm gonna give you this one chance to come clean. Don't make this any harder for yourself than it already is," Price warns softly.

"Who do you work for?"

The question catches you off guard, and you cock your head to the side.

"I... I don't work."

Price scrubs a hand over his face, the language barrier only adding to his anger.

He glances over at Soap, and the Sergeant takes that as his cue to clarify.

"We know you've been sellin' information. We need to know exactly who it is you work for. Who your buyer is."

Your mouth drops open in shock at the accusation, but he's speaking again before you have a chance to defend yourself.

"We've already caught you, so don' bother tryna lie your way outta this."

You shake your head so hard you make yourself dizzy.

"No, no! Not me! I-I don't talk to anyone! I don't give any information, I have no money I don't sell anything! Where is Ghost?" If Ghost is here, he'll listen. He can help you. He'll trust you.

You just need Simon.

"He's not here," Soap says coldly.

"I want Ghost, please!" You all but cry.

"Well he doesn't want you!" Soap shouts, slamming his hands on the table. "No one wants a filthy rat!"

The words are spat with enough malice to cut you deeper than a knife ever has.

"Ghost already knows the truth. Had to keep him away or he'd kill ya before we get answers."

The two men watch as Soap's words have the desired effect, your shoulders slumping forward and tears welling up in your eyes.

It hurts them to have to do this, to have to hurt you. You seemed so sweet, so innocent. But if it's what protects the team, so be it.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time," Price says, "Who do you work for?"

You bring your teary eyes to his and shake your head once again.

"I don't work. I don't sell anything and I am not rat."

You're innocent, and this is a hill you'll die on if you have to.

Price heaves out a heavy sigh then nods at Soap.

He walks around the table to you, ignoring the way you shake your head and try to rise up out of your seat to get away from him.

You raise your hands in surrender when he reaches you, not fighting him as he zip-ties your wrists together in front of you.

"Please, I just want Ghost, please," you beg tearfully, trying your hardest to hold back sobs as he marches you out of the room.

Soap says nothing, only leads you down a hallway that you've never seen before.

"Wh-where do you take me?"

He stops outside of an elevator, hand firmly holding your bicep as he waits for it to arrive.

"Holding cells. A cage fit for a rat like you."

Cage. Another cage.

You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate.

You can't go back in a cage. You won't.

The elevator doors open and he pushes you inside, following after and quickly pressing the button marked 'B'.

You stare at the back of his head as the doors close.

"I didn't do it," you whisper once again, your voice soft and full of tears.

Soap swallows his feelings, the regret carving a hole in his heart.

He truly thought you were good, that he knew you, could trust you.

He can only imagine how angry Ghost will be when he finds out who he's been sharing his bed with.

"You may have Ghost fooled, but I can't deny the facts, and they all point to you," he says stiffly.

Your heart hammers painfully in your chest as the elevator walls begin to close in on you.

You can't go back in a cage. You can't. It took you forever to break out of the first one, the one you called home. Now, you've found something good. A real home, a family.

Only for them to turn on you.

Before you're fully aware of what you're doing, you sweep Soap's feet out from under him. You then straddle his waist and knock your fist against his head, wincing when his head rocks back against the ground with a dull 'thud'.

It hurts you to hurt him, but you don't have time to dwell on that.

Instead, you rise to your feet and hit the STOP button, then grab his knife from his belt and slice your wrists free.

Tears cloud your vision as anxiety eats you, and you scrub your hands over your hair. You throw your head back as you struggle to breathe, only for your escape route to hit you right in the face.

Glancing between Soap's unconscious body and the roof opanels, you cringe internally at what you're about to do.

It takes a lot more effort than you thought it would to hunch him over where you need him to be, and then you're stepping carefully on his back and pushing the ceiling tiles aside.

You climb up and out, crouching on top of the elevator for a long moment as you try to figure out your next steps.

~*~

"Simon, a word," Captain Price says, intercepting the man as he returns to base.

Ghost tenses slightly, but falls into a step beside his superior.

"I wanted you to hear it from me first. We've taken your little mouse into custody for now. Soap brought her downstairs for detainment while we investigate further. All our intel shows that she's our rat."

His head snaps to his Captain and he stops walking.

"What are you talking about?"

Price sighs and extends a file for Ghost to read, but the man only stares down at it.

"I know how heavily you're... involved with her, which is why I wanted to be the one to tell you."

"Let me talk to her."

Price doesn't get to give him an answer, he's already marching toward the elevator.

"Simon, this isn't up for debate. She's guilty, and she'll be punished for what she's done. That's the way of the world, son. I hate that you got your feelings wrapped up in this, but-"

"We need to explore all other options before we continue with this. How could she be the rat? She never leaves my quarters unless she's accompanied by Soap or Gaz."

"That you're aware of," Price corrects, coming to a halt beside the man as he waits for the elevator.

"You can't be on this, Simon. You wanna talk to her, you can this once, but after that this is out of your hands. You're too involved."

Simon grinds his teeth together but remains silent.

He just needs to talk to you, that's all. Somehow, he'll prove you're innocent, and this will all be dealt with.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator doors open, and Simon's heart drops into his feet.

"Soap!"

Price is at the man's side in an instant, helping him into a seated position and checking his pulse.

His hard gaze turns to the Lieutenant.

No words are spoken. They don’t need to be. Simon knows exactly what’s going through the man’s head.

If you’re innocent, why run?

While Price checks on Soap, Simon steps into the elevator, looking up to where the tiles have been moved.

Your escape route, no doubt.

Through there, he's sure you've found a way out through the vents or into the ceiling, but either way he knows you're probably long gone. Lost now somewhere in the hidden areas of the base.

Rather than dwell on that, he's quick to help his Captain bring Soap to the medical wing, silent the entire time.

He knows you're not the rat. Deep in every fibre of his being, he knows. He can feel it in his bones. But his gut feelings aren't enough to sway his Captain.

"I want her found and I want it done quick. We keep this under wraps, no one is to know she's on the loose. The last thing we need is anyone in a panic."

"Let me just talk to her. She'll listen," he tries.

Price shakes his head, "what part of 'you can't be on this' do you not understand? You're dismissed, and if I catch you trying to involve yourself, I'm gonna hafta take it above my head," he threatens.

Ghost says nothing, only grinds his teeth together, turns on his heel, and marches out of the medical wing.

He's not sure where to go, spends a good amount of time pacing angrily through the halls as he tries to figure this out, folder from Price held tightly in his hands.

He hasn't read it yet, he can't.

Though he knows it's not you, he can't shake the fear, the ill feeling gripping his spine at the idea of you being capable of something like that.

Eventually, he discards the file on the desk in his office then heads up to the roof to smoke a pack or two.

He doesn't feel your presence until his third cigarette.

Trying to stay nonchalant, he takes another drag.

"I know you're here," he finally says, blowing out the smoke and looking down at the ground.

His mask is pushed up around his nose, and he doesn't bother adjusting it.

"I'm not going to tell them where you are or... bring you to them. I just... I just want to make sure you're okay. Please."

You stand in the shadows, eyes on his back as you weigh his words carefully before slowly stepping forward.

He turns to you, his heart breaking when he sees your puffy tear-stained face.

"Why do you want me to be okay? Why see me?" You ask, your voice hoarse from all the crying.

His brows pull together and he longs to reach for you.

"Why wouldn't I? All I've ever wanted is for you to be okay."

Your bottom lip wobbles and you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest as he steps toward you.

"Soap told me... what you really think," you begin, "that you... you don't want to see me. You-you think I'm rat, too."

"He's lying." He says the words immediately, without a moment of hesitation or a shred of doubt.

You glare up at him, taking a half-step back when he reaches for you.

"I'm not going in cage."

"I know." He takes another step forward.

"I didn't do it." You take another step back.

"I know."

"I didn't do it and they-they don't believe me. I save Soap's life! I do everything I can to help! To be good, and they don't believe me! Why don't they believe me?!" Your eyes blur with unshed tears and you suck in a hiccuping breath.

"I don't know," Ghost whispers.

His heart aches for you and he feels anger simmer deep within him at the lies spewed in a pathetic attempt at drawing a confession from you.

"They tell me you will kill me," you whisper, shaking your head as tears slip down your cheeks.

"I could never, Mouse." He takes another step forward, and he's almost close enough to touch you.

"If I don't go with them... they don't trust me. But if I do go with them... they still don't trust me. I am in cage... or they kill me."

Finally, he reaches forward, tilting your chin up and forcing you to look at him.

"I won't let that happen," his voice is harder now. "I won't let any of them touch you."

Your breathing gets quick again and he holds your hand, squeezing tightly.

"Breathe with me," he whispers.

You obey, following his breaths and successfully calming yourself down.

He nods, satisfied, then gently takes hold of your wrists, inspecting the angry red marks left by the zip-tie.

His eyes lift back up to yours and it's like you're seeing him for the first time that night.

"I didn't do it, Simon. Please, I didn't."

His eyes soften and he nods, cupping your cheek softly.

"I know, love. I believe you."

You finally nod, exhaling heavily as if a weight is lifted off of your chest.

He believes you. You knew he would. You knew you could trust him.

"But someone else did, and now they're trying to frame you for it."

It takes a minute for his words to process in your brain, but when they do you're frowning up at him.

"Why me? Who... who would do that?" What kind of horrible monster would do something like this?

"I don't know, little one. But I'll fix this. I just need you to trust me."

You blink your wet eyes a few times at him.

"How will you fix?"

"Just trust me." That's easy enough. You've been doing it since the moment you met him, and you have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

"What do I do?"

He pushes your hair away from your face and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a tight hug.

You relax instantly, melting into his arms and snuggling your head against his chest.

He rests his chin atop your head and sighs heavily.

"Just give me time, Mouse, I promise. I won't let them touch you."

Your hands ball his shirt into your fists.

"Where do I go?"

He sighs one more time and closes his eyes, trying to figure that out as well.

Eventually, he settles on telling you the truth.

"I don't know."

~*~

His fist is knocking on Price's office door later that evening.

"Come in."

He's inside the office before the words are fully out of his Captain's mouth.

"I know you said not to get involved," he begins, holding back an eye-roll when Price sighs.

"Simon," he warns.

"And if you tell me one more time then fine, I won't get involved on your side of this," he continues as if Price hasn't said a word, "but there's a rat here, and you need all the help you can get if you wanna flush them out."

Price rubs his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut.

"We already know who the rat is."

"No, you think you know who the rat is," Simon argues.

"All the evidence points to your mouse. Are we supposed to deny the facts because she warms your bed at night?" He snaps, growing tired of this.

"The facts are that you didn't even properly talk to her. You cornered her, ambushed her, threw vile accusations and lies at her to try and get some fake confession from her, and you're surprised that she ran. Those are the facts."

Price leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, you've talked to her."

Simon places his hands on the desk, leaning forward.

"Let me help."

Price shakes his head, "nothing comes between me and my team."

"Then let me help and nothing will."

Price's thick brows raise.

"Are you threatening me, Lieutenant?"

Silence hangs long and heavy between the two of them and neither man makes an effort to break it for a good few minutes.

Finally, Price speaks.

"The safety of my team comes first before anything else."

Simon nods slowly and straightens back up.

"If that's the case, then it's in the best interests of everyone involved if you let me find the rat. The real rat. Because I'm not lettin' a single one of you touch a hair on her fuckin' head."

It's quiet again for a few minutes, but this time Simon is the one who speaks.

"Three days," he says quietly. "That's all I need."

Price looks at him warily for a long while before huffing out a sigh and shaking his head.

"If you don't have the rat in front of me in three days, regardless of who it is, I'm gonna gas the building with your Mouse hiding in it. Best way to flush out a rat."

Simon grinds his teeth together but nods his understanding, turning on his heel and marching out of the office.

He doesn't go far, only down the hall to his own office where the folder lies.

He plops down in his chair and flips it open, ready to pour over every word until he finds something to work with.

He's only reading for about half an hour before he hears it, soft creaking coming from the ceiling above him.

He knows it's you, but before he can say anything, theres a knock on his office door.

"Come," he barks, tossing he file back on his desk as Soap pushes the door open.

Simon's eyes narrow at the man, the lies he spewed still tumbling around in his brain.

"Heard you visited Price... and you've met with yer Mouse," the mohawked man says, his eyes scanning the room.

"She's not in here."

Soap's eyes snap to Ghost's, the latter leaning back in his chair.

"How's your head?"

Soap nods, looking down for a moment.

"M'not concussed, wasn't her hit that got me, it was the bounce against the floor."

Ghost only shrugs, "can't say you didn't deserve it."

Sighing, Soap leans against the doorframe.

"Are we really gonna do this, Lt?"

"You're the one standing in my office, Sergeant," he counters, crossing his arms over his chest.

They're quiet for a moment, and he knows Soap is going to speak his mind.

"Everything points to her. S'only reasonable."

"And that's reason enough to lie? To spew nothin' but bullshit through your teeth? To scare her? You were tryna get her to confess to something she didn't do to make things easier for you."

Soap steps into the office, his own anger rising.

"That's not true. I tried to do my job. You find out there's a rat, you see the pile of evidence, and any rational person would follow the trail. S'not my fault you're shaggin' the broad 'n now you can' think for your bloody self."

Ghost is on his feet before the man is finished speaking, stalking toward him.

"That's enough, MacTavish," He growls, glaring down at the man.

"You're dismissed. Get outta my office."

Clenching his jaw, Soap turns and leaves without another word.

Sighing, Ghost sits back down and puts his face in his hands.

He knew his teammates had their doubts, but he never realized how deep that distrust went.

After a moment, Simon glances up at the vent in his office where he knows you sat listening to the entire exchange.

"I'll fix this, Mouse. I promise," he whispers.

Flipping the folder open again, he pours himself back into it, reading over everything. Every name, every date, every location, and every piece of information that got leaked.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he finds a comonality other than you.

"Mouse? You still with me? Knock once for yes, twice for no."

He listens patiently, and eventually, you knock once on the vent.

"Perfect. Now, I want you to follow the sound of my feet, okay? We're leaving my office."

Again, one knock greets him.

He rises from his desk and leaves his office, walking slowly and making just enough noise for you to be able to follow him from your place in the ceiling.

He leads you this way and that, finally coming to a halt in a utility closet.

Pushing the ceiling tiles out of the way, he climbs up on a few boxes and sticks his head into the ceiling, his heart easing when he catches sight of you again.

"You okay?"

You nod, crawling toward him.

"Come down here."

You obey, slowly climbing out of the hole in the ceiling and gasping when his strong arms wrap around you.

He holds you in an embrace far longer than he normally does, then tilts your chin up and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

"I think I've figured it out, little one. But I need something from you in order to prove it."

You nod eagerly, desperate to clear your name.

He sighs and nods once, then opens the door to the utility closet, looking both ways to make sure no one's around before motioning for you to follow him.

You do, staying only a half-step behind him as he leads you through a door and into a stairwell.

"This way."

You follow closely behind him as he leads you down a flight of stairs, looking around as much as you can as you try to figure out what his plan is, where he's taking you.

Finally, he leads you down another hallway and stops just outside of a door.

He looks at you, his eyes suddenly serious, far more serious than you've ever seen them, and you can't help the nervousness that chews at you.

You pick at the skin around your nails absentmindedly as he places a hand on your cheek, cupping it gently.

"'M'gonna ask you to do somethin'... somethin' that I know you're not gonna wanna do. But I just... I need you to trust me on this, okay?"

Your brows pull together at his words.

"Okay..."

"Do you trust me?" He asks his free hand on the door handle.

He doesn't open it. He needs you to confirm out loud to him and to yourself before he opens the door.

You nod, looking between him and the door anxiously.

He grips your chin more firmly and forces your eyes to stay on his.

"I need you to look at me when you say it. Do you trust me?"

Your stomach flips and you need to wet your lips before speaking. Your skin crawls at this, at the intensity of his gaze, the unknown behind the door.

"I do. I trust you," you finally confirm.

He lets out an audible breath of relief, and then he's pushing open the door and your heart is falling into your stomach.

Immediately, you shake your head and take a step back, only for him to catch you and halt you in your tracks.

"No."

Simons sighs, tugging you forward gently. "Mouse, please."

You shake your head more firmly this time.

"No," you repeat, "I-I can't. I won't. No more cage."

Simon looks over to the holding cells with a heavy heart, then pulls his eyes back to yours.

"I know. But this... this is the only way. You need to trust me."

You yank free from his grip and take a step away from him as tears cloud your vision.

"I-I didn't do it. Why do you bring me here?"

You look at the cells then back to his eyes and shake your head once more. You thought you could trust him. You thought he trusted you.

"Please, Simon..."

He reaches for you, tries to pull you into an embrace, only for you to step away once more.

Where you'll go, you have no idea. You just know that you can't... you won't go back in a cage.

"Mouse, I promise you. Three days is all I need. And then I'll come let you out and you'll never have to look at this place again. I swear it."

"No."

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He doesn't want to do this to you. If he could prove your innocence without this, he would. But he knows his team, his captain. He knows what it'll take to get the truth out.

"If we don't do this, they're gonna gas the building with you inside, and you'll die."

Your fiery gaze finally returns to his and for a moment he wishes it didn't.

"I'd rather die than go back in cage."

His heart cracks in his chest.

"Please, Mouse. For me. Please. Trust me, just this once."

Your bottom lip quivers as you stare at the cell, eyes getting distant as horrible memories of a past you long to forget creep up on you.

Finally, you suck in a sharp breath and turn to look at him again.

"Three days?"

He nods immediately, his shoulders relaxing while his eyes soften.

"Yes. Three days at most, I promise. I swear, on the memory of my nephew, three days."

Reluctantly, you walk forward, looking at every cell before stepping into the one in the corner. The largest and the darkest.

Your shoulders are tight by your ears as you look around.

It has a thin mattress on the ground and a toilet in the corner. Over half the cell is shrouded in darkness, and the other half is in direct view of the door.

It's bigger than the cage you grew up in, but the sick feeling doesn't leave your stomach as your freedom is brutally ripped from you once again.

Simon squeezes his eyes shut as he closes the door behind you, his heart hurting.

Knowing what he does about you, about your past, this feels like the ultimate betrayal. Arguably one of the worst things he could put you through.

But he needs to.

You flinch at the sound of the lock clicking, not turning to face him even as tears start to trickle down your cheeks.

"Mouse..."

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself in a pathetic attempt at comfort.

"Go," you whisper.

You don't want him here, watching you like some caged dog.

His hands wrap around the bars of your cell as he tries to get you to understand.

"It's not permanent, I swear."

"Go!" You snarl, a hiccuped sob following your words.

And just like that, the floodgates open.

You press your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound, but you can't hide the shake of your shoulders, the way you curl in on yourself.

It breaks his heart.

Silently, he takes a step back, then another, and another, pausing when he reaches the door.

"I'll be back for you. I promise."

~*~

Somewhere, somehow, between blinks, you fall asleep.

One moment you're closing your eyes to blink, the next you're waking up groggy and stiff.

Ghost stands at the door to your cell, a tray of food and a bottle of water in hand.

He needs to swallow the lump in his throat before he speaks, his heart breaking seeing you like this.

"I brought you food... thought you could use some company."

You're curled up in a ball in the corner of the cell, eyes teary and red as you glare at him.

He put you here.

It kills what's left of his soul to see you like this.

"Things are coming together, won't be much longer now, I promise."

You say nothing, only keep your icy cold glare focused on him as he sets the food down and slides it through the opening at the base of your cell.

The sound of your sniffles plagues him, and he wishes none of this happened in the first place.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes sad, before turning and leaving you alone once again.

When he finds out who's framing you, he's going to have his fun with them.

You're alone for only a few moments before the panic sets in once more.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you struggle to suck in short gasps of oxygen, nails scratching at your neck as you search desperately for your necklace, for the one item that's ever made you feel safe.

Tears run like rivers down your cheeks and you moan out your sorrows.

What would your mother think if she saw you?

She sacrificed everything, everything, for you to leave one cage only for you to willingly walk into another.

You shake your head at yourself, at your foolishness.

This was probably their plan all along. They probably know your father, they've probably gone to get him.

Scrambling to the tray of food, you grab the knife and desperately try to pry at the lock of your cell. When that proves fruitless, you jam the blade into the hinges, sobbing hopelessly.

The knife slides against the metal and finds its way to your thigh, slicing you nice and deep.

You hiss at the pain and drop the blade, stumbling backward then sliding down the wall.

It's useless. There's no escaping.

You start to feel dizzy as your thoughts overwhelm you, and before you know it you're whispering soft apologies and prayers in your mother tongue. Begging for peace, for freedom.

As you whisper the words, something dawns on you.

From the moment of your birth, you were promised nothing but pain. And life was only too eager to oblige; bestowing upon you torment after torment, loss after brutal loss.

Until finally, you broke free. You found your salvation, your Ghost, only for him to be another painful reminder that freedom is not something you were ever meant to taste.

~*~

Price meets Ghost in the boardroom at a ripe 0500hrs the following day, a steaming cup of coffee in a paper cup held tightly in his grasp.

Soap follows shortly after, on high alert.

Gaz trickles in last, the least tense of the three and possibly the most innocent in Ghost's eyes.

"So?" Price asks, looking around the empty room.

"Where's my rat?"

As if on cue, there's a firm knock on the door.

Ghost slaps the tablet he was holding against Price's chest and makes his way to the furthest corner of the room, content to spectate.

"Come in," Price says gruffly, eyes dropping down to the tablet in his hands.

His brows draw together, and then he's looking up at the newcomer.

"Corporal Matthews."

The young man salutes his superiors, then steps into the room, looking around curiously.

"What's going on?"

Price has already pieced it together, giving a short nod to the masked man in the corner.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Gaz and Soap exchange glances, the former shutting the door and leaning against it, blocking any form of escape.

The Corporal chuckles nervously and looks between the three men before swallowing hard when Price steps forward.

"So... you think it's funny what you've been doing? Care to explain to me what exactly you find so fucking funny about this?"

Soap clenches his jaw, dread bubbling in his stomach.

A sick part of him hopes Ghost is wrong, that Matthews isn't the rat, if only to absolve him of the guilt he's sure will eat him alive after all he did to you. All he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Enough with that, son. We know it was you. Don't make this more difficult than it already is," Price whispers. In his eyes is none of the anger that was there when he spoke to you. No, instead there's nothing but disappointment.

Simon's anger will be enough to cover the whole team, and then some.

"Well, what about the Lieutenant's whore? Huh?" Matthews defends, glaring at the men. They bristle at the words, eyes darting to the hulking man hiding in the shadows in the corner.

"Funny how you knew exactly what we were talkin' about," Soap says, stepping forward and squaring up with the man.

So it's true. He was wrong about you. And he has no idea what he's going to do to fix it.

Price hands the tablet to Matthews and watches as realization dawns on him slowly.

On the screen is live video footage of the holding cells where a familiar mouse is curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth.

"She's been in there for days. This latest leak? Happened last night. Couldn't've been her. We set you up, and you took the bloody bait."

"Well it's her fault anyway!" Matthews suddenly explodes, tossing the tablet onto the table angrily.

"If she wasn't fuckin' the Lieutenant then Jacobs would still be alive! If he didn't have his face in her snatch every night, he'd see that she's a fuckin problem!"

Silence hangs heavily in the room for a long moment as Ghost rises to his feet and slowly approaches the other man.

"You wanna tell 'im that?" Price asks, nodding over the Corporal's shoulder.

He glances back then does a double take, spinning around and backing up only to run right into Soap.

Ghost stops right in front of him, glaring down at the man.

Corporal Matthews tries to hold his ground, to not be intimidated by the huge man in front of him, but he's seen firsthand what this man -this beast- is capable of.

"Didn't get to have my fun with Jacobs, prick died quick. But you can bet 'm'gonna take my time with you."

[butlervibesonly]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Austin had a rough day filming, and Y/n wants him to feel better as he comes home. Dinner, and, welp, a hot bath that isn't just a hot bath...

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : fluff, kisses and little bit of spiciness by the end...

• Note : I wish, and I'm repeating, I wish, I could write spicy scenes and the more I wish is to be able to finish them (forgive me) 😭🥲

Being an actor is surely amazing thing. Although it could be also very exhausting, and it can be rough. And that's Austin's case. He texted you more than once saying how much he was looking forward to going home, that he had had a hard day and was tired.

After a grueling day on set, he finally steps through the door, exhaustion visible in his eyes and in the heavy slump of his shoulders. The moment Austin walks in, though, he’s greeted by the warm, savory aroma of his favorite food drifting from the kitchen.

“Hey, babe, I'm home,” he calls out softly, and you peek around the corner, giving him a warm smile. You can see just how drained he is, and without a word, you walk over and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Austin lets out a sigh, resting his head against yours, clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I made your favorite,” you say softly, giving him a little smile. “I thought you might need a good meal after today.” His eyes soften, and he leans down to press a grateful kiss against your lips. And woah, how much he missed those lips. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

You guide him to the table, where you’ve already set up everything—candles, his favorite dish, and even a little dessert. As Austin sits down, he looks around, visibly touched by the thought and care you’ve put into making this night special. You serve him, and as he takes his first bite, he lets out a satisfied hum, his eyes meeting yours with a grateful, softened expression.

"This. Is. Frickin'. Delicious." Austin said every word in the way to make you know this was what he craved for. "You're the best cook I know," he says, continuing to eat his food. "Well, thank you, dreamboat." you chuckle.

After dinner, you reach for Austin's hand, pulling him gently toward the bathroom. “I have one more surprise,” you say with a playful smile. He raises an eyebrow, curious, but lets you lead him inside, where you’ve already prepared a warm bubble bath. The room is softly lit with candles, the bath filled with bubbles and infused with his favorite soothing scents. He stares in awe for a second, then looks at you, clearly moved.

“I can’t believe you did all this…for me,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulls you in for another hug. “Of course I did,” you murmur, brushing a hand through his hair. “You do so much every day, and I just want you to relax tonight.”

He squeezes your hand and when he noticed that you actually also added rose petals, he can't help but laugh. "Do you know you should be the one who deserves such a romantic bath?" Austin jokes, making you smile. "You mean a rough man like you doesn't deserve a little tenderness?"

Austin laughs back at your humor, and starts to take off his clothes. As much as you fight the urge, you still watch his muscular body. He gets in, comfortable in the warm water, closes his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. "Wait a second," you managed to speak again, leaving him in the bathroom.

As you come back, you carry a glass of champagne with a strawberry in it. "There you go," you say, handing him the glass. Austin's smile widen, making him smirk. "You haven't forgotten anything, have you?" he said and took a sip. You follow him with your eyes, every move, every sigh he lets out. Even though he is tired, he is incredibly hot.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" Austin lets out, when he notices you standing there like a fool. "Join me, the tub is big enough." he smirks. How is even possible he can make you feel butterflies like some teenage girl?

After doubting for a moment, he nodded his head towards the bath to signal that there was plenty of room beside him. Finally, you agreed, taking your clothes off, too. His eyes don't leave you, capturing your every move. He holds out his hand, which is wet, covered in bubbles, to help you get inside.

You lay beside him, his arm around your shoulders as he press a kiss into your hair. You can feel the way his body reacts to your touch, making him hum. You then felt Austin kissing your neck, more intensively every time.

"I thought you were tired?" You smirked, looking at him. "I'm never too tired for you, doll," he says, his voice deep. Doll. That nickname is stuck with him since he played Elvis and you absolutely loved it. His hands started to roam around your body, and eventually flipped you, so you lay on the top of him.

You heard the water splash out when he did so. Gasping a little, he pressed his lips against yours. "You're so, so amazing. I can't get enough of you." Austin breathes fast as he continues pressing a small kisses all around your neck.

The original plan was for you to watch a movie together, but now it's clear that Mr. Butler has something much different planned...

[chapscher]

Also came here to talk about The Will To Change

If someone grows up in an environment where they are told by parents, teachers, friends, community leaders, and neighbors that they are not supposed to express their emotions (save for anger) it fucks them up. bell hooks' thesis is that this is traumatic and limits the ways in which someone is able to understand and react to their own emotions. While other marginalized groups experience this to some extent, this kind of abuse is often experienced by men and is patriarchal in the sense that it is meant to reinforce gender separation, which leads to a gendered hierarchy, which benefits the patriarchy.

Anyone can reinforce this line of thinking. "Man up, boys don't cry," "Stop being such a girl. You bitch about everything," and "Don't like what I said? Well you're a man, so deal with it" are all patriarchal sentiments. This line of thinking, if internalized, leads to a lot of men not seeking help for illness, addiction, abusive relationships, and can lead to isolationism. Anyone who is isolated becomes vulnerable to those peddling cult-like thinking because those peddlers are also offering a sense of community.

So what do we do about this? Even those who try to raise their sons without gendered expectations still find their son shamed into repression by those outside the family. One of the ways to address the prolonged trauma that leads to isolation is to make sure that men have a space to talk about their emotions. When feminists encourage this it's not them saying "We must coddle the most misogynistic of men" it's them saying "There are men who want to escape repressive rhetoric and we should offer a space for them to do that." And it is feminist to acknowledge that those who reinforce a gendered separation (e.g. talking about men as if they are monolith/hive mind that must be severely punished for the patriarchy) are actively making things worse.

When it comes to an individual's trauma, other people don't get to decide when or how that person acknowledges it or heals from it. That traumatized person needs to acknowledge that they have been hurt and decide what they are going to do about it, if they will continue ignoring it or if they will try to heal. Those who try to heal should be given the space to do so, and creating this space is both a feminist and humanist endeavor.

Nooo mutual don’t put that “men fall down the alt-right pipeline bc women/feminists are too mean” post on my dash nooo mutual don’t try to say women need to be nicer when dealing with misogynistic men nooo mutual nooo

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.2k

a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: Mistakes in a Hardware Store

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Masterlist: Here

CW: Harry is a tad bit over protective in this, threats of violence, semi angsty bits, language.

A/N: Harry had done something wrong and shockingly enough it has nothing to do with what he does for a living, so enjoy him trying to get you to forgive him✨

“Looking at it every five seconds isn’t going to make it magically start ringing you know that right?” Harry just ignores Mitch’s comment as he looks at his phone for the sixth time in the last five minutes, letting out a sigh when he all he’s met with is the date and time on his Lock Screen, no message from you or your name flashing across it like it normally does when you call him. “Trouble in paradise?” Mitch asks as he looks over and watches Harry run a hand through his hair as he tosses his phone onto his desk.

“She’s not talking to me.” Is all he says before he stands up and begins pacing the length of his desk while Mitch spins his chair around so his back is facing his own desk allowing him to watch his bestfriend have what he could only describe as a breakdown of some sort due to not having heard from you all day. Harry pauses and runs a hand over his face then just looks at Mitch over his shoulder. “I think she’s mad-”

“What did you do?” Harry lets out a groan as he walks over to his desk and places his hands flat on top of it and Mitch raises a brow at him when he notices him look down and close his eyes while letting out a deep sigh. “Harry tell me you didn’t-”

“You’ve got to stop assuming I’m walking around killing people without telling you.” Harry jokes as he lifts his head to send Mitch a glare. “I didn’t even really put my hands on anyone this time.” He explains making his friend just roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“She went with me to get some stuff so I can fix the shed door in the backyard and while we were at the hardware store some dude came up to her and started chatting her up so I might’ve threatened him a little.”

“You’re such a hot head man you need to relax and realize your wife is a catch so dudes are going to want to try to flirt with her.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as he straightens himself up and takes a step towards him with a quirked brow, Mitch is extremely familiar to this side of his bestfriend. “I’m just supposed to let people flirt with her and think they have some sort of shot with her?”

“They’ll know they don’t have a shot with her because she’ll let them know. She doesn’t need you to do it.” Mitch casually explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Harry just lets out a scoff and throws his hands up in air, clearly annoyed at the idea of having his wife be the one to tell creeps to leave her alone.

“She shouldn’t have to worry about telling wanks who want to chat her up to fuck off.” He snaps while he walks back over to his desk to reach for his phone. “I’m her husband it’s my job to do that for her.” Mitch rolls his eyes at his explanation as he watches Harry tap away on his phone.

“No it’s your job to trust her and let her handle herself in situations like that.” Harry can’t help but feel his heart sink as Mitch’s words hit him, he knows he can be a tad bit overprotective when it comes to you and that often leads to him overreacting in certain situations but he’s never thought about how him reacting the way that he does could make you feel as if he doesn’t trust you or think you can’t handle yourself.

“I do trust her.” Mitch just nods as he uncrosses his arms so he can stand up from his chair. “I just-you know how I am with her.” He says with a sigh as Mitch takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know how you are with her and I know it’s because you love her but sometimes it’s a little much. But the real question is how are you gonna fix this?” Mitch asks as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before letting it go. “I hear flowers work wonders.” He suggests making Harry send him a glare making Mitch chuckle because sometimes it’s glaringly obvious how single Mitch is compared to Harry.

“Already had a bouquet delivered to her office this morning since she only works a half day today.” He mumbles and Mitch just gives him a nod of approval as he watches Harry tap a few things on his phone before he locks it and slides into his back pocket. “I have to go. You good to handle the rest of the day without me?” Harry questions making Mitch just brush him off as he turns to head back towards his desk.

“Yeah I’m fine we have that Gavin guy tomorrow and today is just paperwork.” Harry just nods at Mitch’s answer before he gathers his keys and tosses his work bag over his shoulder. “Good luck.” Mitch says with a smile as Harry gives him one more glance before turning and heading out their shared office door and down the hallway for the door that opens to the stairs leading up to the lobby of the building the two of them work at.

Harry hates the feeling he gets when he walks inside the front door, he’s not met with the usual warmth that always radiates off of you and seeps into his body and relaxes him as it makes its way from his tired feet all the way up to his sore shoulders. Today he’s met with silence and the utter coldness that comes with it and it’s almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, but the only thing that keeps him from turning around and leaving is that he knows you’re home because he parked next to your car in the driveway and he is willing to do anything get your warmth back into the house.

He knows where you’re at, it’s just something that he can’t help with what he does for a living he knows how to keep track of people when they’re in relatively close proximity to him. So as soon as he walked in the front door he could see your foot hanging off the love seat tucked away in the corner of the living room near the bookshelf next to the floor lamp that you opted to turn on instead of the main light. He acts as if he didn’t see you as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door and slips his shoes off before he makes his way into the kitchen where he places his work bag on the table, he can feel your eyes on him from the living room and he takes that as a decent sign that you’re even wanting to look at him.

He runs a hand through his hair as he contemplates his next move, he knows you don’t like confrontation so you won’t be the one to tell him you’re mad at him so if he wants this to get resolved in a timely manner he’s going to need to be the one to initiate the conversation but he’s just not in a hurry to hear you say you’re upset with him. So Harry does what he thinks is the best thing to do in the moment because he knows you, he knows what you really need from him in this moment and he’s more than willing to give it to you if it spares him, at least for a few minutes from having to hear you tell him how unhappy he made you the other day. He turns around and quietly heads into the living room, he watches as you close the book he knows you stopped reading the moment he walked through the front door and place it on the side table near the lamp. As soon as he’s in front of you he reaches down and grabs your hands as he drops to his knees, he looks at you as he brings your hands to his lips and places sweet kisses to your knuckles and he doesn’t miss the slight shade of pink your cheeks get at his actions.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes sure his words come out nice and clear so you don’t miss them between little pecks to your knuckles. “I know I made you upset yesterday and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have threatened him or-”

“We’ve had this conversation before haven’t we Harry?” You ask making Harry just swallow before nodding his head and he swears he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you turn and look away from him. “I know you want to protect me from all the creeps and jerks but Harry yesterday you-”

“Don’t say it.” He cuts you off as he lets your hands slip out of his as he stands up. “Please don’t say it.” His voice is low as he takes a small step away from you as he feels as if his world might be crumbling down around him as the thought of you telling him you were afraid of him bounces around in his head.

“Harry look at me.” He can’t help himself as he does what you ask because even though his whole world may feel like it’s on the verge of falling apart he’s still your husband, the man who hasn’t ever really been able to not do whatever it is you ask of him. “I’m not afraid of you.” He feels your hands on his arms slowly running up until they are cupping the sides of his face making sure he can’t look away from you. Your words take a moment to sink in through the layers of sheer panic and anxiety running through his mind but when they finally do Harry lets out a deep breath and feels as if his legs could give out at any moment with the amount of relief that washes over him.

“I was going to say that in that moment you were being one of the jerks you try to protect me from all the time.” All Harry can do is just nod because you’re right, he was being exactly the type of person he tries to keep you away from and honestly Harry is still recovering from the fact you admitted you aren’t afraid of him so a nod is the best he can do in the moment. “You threatened someone’s life all because he was asking me if I had any recommendations for a good weather resistant wood varnish.” When Harry rolls his eyes he instantly knows it’s a mistake because he feels your hands drop from his face making his lips turn downward into a slight frown while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but that was clearly a line and he was trying to flirt-”

“So him flirting with me means you need to come in and grab him by his shirt and tell him that if he so much as looks at me again the next project you’ll be working on will be his coffin?” Harry can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve raised your voice since he’s met you, each time has almost always been towards him and he hates that he’s the one who gets you to the point where you lose your ability to speak in your usual soft and gentle tone and are left with no choice but to make your voice louder and a little meaner in hopes it’ll help get your point across more clearly.

“I didn’t mean to grab him. That was a mistake.” He doesn’t make an attempt to get closer to you even though every part of him wants to reach out and pull you into him, he wants to give you the space you need to tell him exactly how his actions made you feel and he knows you won’t be able to do that if he crowds you. And as much as he normally loves to play dirty and use his knowledge against you, this time he wants you to get everything out because he wants to be better for you so if he has to stand here and take it for a few more minutes then so be it.

“Was that the only mistake you made yesterday?” He wants to say he really didn’t make any mistakes yesterday but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together as you place a hand on your hip letting him in on the fact you’re getting annoyed at this conversation.

“Please just answer me because I don’t want to argue with you anymore but I need to know if you really think that’s the only mistake you made yesterday.” Harry can tell by the slight pleading tone of your voice that you’re beginning to break, your walls of anger are starting to crumble and he can’t help himself but feel a small sense of relief because he can work with this, he can find a way to make your walls come down and get you to forgive him.

“No.” He answers as he takes a small cautious step towards you making you raise an eyebrow at him as a signal to have him elaborate on his answer. “I shouldn’t have threatened him or raised my voice in the store because I know how you feel about causing scenes in public.” He adds as he takes another small step towards you and he can’t help the small smirk that forms on his face when he sees your hand drop from your hip as you playfully roll your eyes at the mention of causing a scene.

“Anything else?” Your voice is much softer now and Harry feels like this is a good time to take a chance so he reaches an arm out so he can place a hand on your hip and he smiles when you don’t make any moves to wiggle out of his grasp or bring your own hand down to push his away.

“Letting you give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. That’s probably the biggest mistake I made because you know how much I love hearing you talk.” Now normally you’d take that as a tease of some sort but Harry’s not an idiot, or at least not in this moment so he’s sure to sound as serious as possible without ruining the lighthearted mood that’s beginning to form between the two of you.

“You love hearing me talk?” Harry just gives you a smile as he ever so gently pulls you closer to him by his hold on your hip.

“Your voice is one of my favorite sounds.” He admits without a single drop of hesitation because it’s the truth. “Especially right before you fall asleep and it’s this mixture of a whisper and just mumbles of nonsense.” His eyes stare into yours as he raises his free hand so he can brush a few strands of hair out of your face and back behind your ear. “But my favorite is when it’s got this hint of excitement to it like when you’re telling me about a new book you found that you’re now obsessed with or better yet the rants you go on about books you hate those are very fun and your voice gets this almost twinge of absolute disgust to it that I always find entertaining because it’s so rare you find something you don’t like.” He keeps his hand on the side of your face cupping your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek.

“So really baby it about killed me not getting to hear your voice for a whole day all because I was an asshole and couldn’t handle some guy flirting with you in a Home Depot.” He wants to pull your face towards his and seal his words with a kiss but he doesn’t, he’s a gentleman after all and knows it’s only right to let you decide when he’s earned his kissing privileges back sees as you just broke the day long silent treatment you were giving him not even five minutes ago.

“His name was Brad.” Harry’s grip on your hip tightens a little while he other hand falls from your face as you give him an unwanted detail of your encounter yesterday. “Maybe if you knew that before you went all crazy on him you would’ve reconsidered? Because who’s going to pick some dude named Brad over their hot husband named Harry?” He just chuckles as you give him a playful smirk while reaching your hands up to grab both sides of his face.

“Well when you put it like that.” He jokes as he feels you begin to pull his face down towards yours. “I really am sorry sweetheart I swear it won’t happen again.” He whispers as he bumps the tip of his nose into yours making you smile.

“I know you are and that’s why I forgive you.” That’s all Harry needs to hear before he allows himself to close the gap between his lips and yours, he feels you smile against his lips as you pull him even closer to you when you feel him try to pull away.

“I love you.” He mumbles between kisses making you giggle as your hands go from his face down to his chest so you can grip onto his shirt while his hand holds onto the back of your neck.

In this moment Harry knows that the two of you are going to be okay, that while you may hate how he over reacts and gets a little too protective at times, you still love him and haven’t decided to give up on him or at least not yet. So Harry decides right then and there that he’s going to actually try to be better, but while he really will try he can’t promise he won’t mess up every now and then because he’s still Harry, and when it comes to you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with people getting too close or being too friendly.

[take-it-on-the-run]

Imagine: Wearing Baggy Clothes with Dean

Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 900

@ghostlyaccurate requested: Hii! Can i please request an established relationship Dean Winchester x fem! Or gn! Reader who always wear insanely baggy jeans and just some friendly banter like: Reader: *gets in the passenger seat of baby, holding the jeans up a bit like a dress* Dean: Reader: *looks confused at Dean* Dean: you gonna leave some jeans for the clowns in the circus? Reader: oh fuck off Winchester Dean: I'm just saying, you hold them like a princess dress Reader: how the fuck did you get me to fall for you? (Bonus: his reaction when he sees reader in a tight fitting dress/ silk, short ish nightgown, for the first time and he's just like :0)

A/N: Good God why didn't I write this sooner?? I'm a baggy pants girly myself and I was able to write this so easily. Gonna apologize to @ghostlyaccurate because I have been swamped in school work and just remembered my inbox was a thing. Thank you for requesting and giving me inspiration to write! I hope ya'll enjoy my first imagine!!

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

You’d always stuck to baggier styles

It started with comfort, and then you realized that bigger pants lead to bigger pockets

Bigger pockets meant not having to run back to your car to get gear you couldn’t carry

You met Dean while Sam was at Stanford, and before him, you never thought much of your preference

Then, a few months on your ride across the nation to find John, you caught Dean looking at you with creased eyebrows and chuckling

“What?”

Your hands were balled up against your sides, raising the legs of your pants to let you step in the car without tripping

It came out harsher than you intended, but Dean didn’t mention it if he noticed

“You always ball up your jeans like some kinda princess whenever you get in the car. Might have to start callin’ you ‘princess’.”

You shot him a glare that you now know rivals one of his brother’s

Without you rebutting him, he poked at you again

“Gonna leave some jean for the rest of us? Might have to call Canada to warn them.”

You smacked him playfully, lips breaking into a smile

“Fuck off, man, do you know how much it sucks when you don’t have pockets for anything?”

Dean poorly blocked your hand, looking over at you silently as he revved the car

You relaxed into your seat at his silence

“Exactly.”

Looking back, you had no idea how you managed to fall for him

Then again, you felt similarly to his feelings for you

After the two of you found Sam, and then shortly after found, and lost, John, it was a quick spiral into solving whatever case the three of you could get your hands on

One of which included finding and destroying a hand of glory alongside your friend-not-quite-friend Bela Talbot

When Dean told you about the plan the first time, you weren’t thrilled that he said he needed you to work all together

You were even less thrilled when he unveiled that the hand was kept by some rich guy

Who was hosting a fancy ball

And that you still needed to come in

You didn’t mind formal events, occasionally enjoying getting dressed up made you feel good

But with Ms. Big Ben on your team ushering you to a room to get ready, you remembered the last time you were done up like this was at your senior prom

Where, if Carrie wasn’t already the prom scream queen, you’d have taken the crown

You went with some friends, but your parents only let you go if you brought some protection with you, and not the rubber kind

Growing up a hunter was tough enough for you, and you wanted to feel normal for just one night

So you left your gear in a bush outside the venue

Dumb idea

That night ended in a vampire’s head soaking you in blood, your poor date knocked to the ground, looking at you with horror

He skipped on the details but shared the part where you were covered in blood

You left school before the year ended and were able to get your diploma from home

Now, looking at yourself covered in more makeup than you normally wear and fabric clinging to parts of your body you were sure people forgot existed, you prayed the night didn’t repeat itself

At least this time your date would be impressed if you decapitated a monster

You willed yourself out of the room, following Bela down the stairs where Sam and Dean stood waiting in tuxes

Dean’s eyes scanned every dip and curve of your body, and you wanted to stick your finger in an electrical socket

Bela left for the car, Sam close behind, leaving Dean to stare at you alone

You waited for him to say something, a remark about looking done up for once, but he didn’t

Instead, his tongue darted onto his lips, leaving them parted as you stood still

Was he… gawking?

He’d told you that you were pretty countless of times, but this moment felt like something completely different

“You look… amazing.”

Before you could fathom to accept his complement, you let a wise crack out

“You’re saying I don’t normally?”

He laughed, shaking his head

“Never said that, sweetheart.”

Smart man

It was a small pause in your daily hunts, where you felt normal for a moment

When you were eventually covered in blood, dirt, and grime by the end of the job, Dean stood beside you in a similar state

He looked at you, eyes still holding the mystified look he gave when you first came down the stairs

No horror or disgust

And, the next day when you returned to your regular clothes, you noticed the way he looked at you held an awe-struck sense

Then again, you thought back to all the time you’d known him. Back in the car, when he was giving you shit, he looked at you with awe

If only you’d been able to see it earlier

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Reese as a Sea Bunny faunus?

~At a Certain Kind of Establishment

Reese: *Sees jaune* Oh, you're-

Velvet: Hello Sir! Are you having a good time?

Jaune: Uh, Pardon? Well .. Yeah!

Reese: Heh ...

Reese: *Walking over to Jaune and Velvet* Leave this to me! you can help someone else!

Velvet: Huh? But ...

Reese: It's alright!

Velvet: Oh- okay ... alright then ...

*Velvet leaves*

Reese: *Turns to Jaune* Are you having a good time

Reese: With another "Bunny" Girl?

Jaune: *Thoroughly intimidated* No! I mean- I- I'm sorry?

Fun Fact! Zelda Wynn Valdes and Latvian émigrée designed/tailored the bunny suit to help enhance and show off the figure for the playboy bunny waitresses in the penthouse! However, they didn't take into account that the guest would be in leather armchairs which is lower than a a regular chair that sit at tables which lead to spillage (and not from the drinks) so the bunny dip was a technique to help by leaning back a little slightly bending the knees and serving drinks and/or food behind them.

~Later~

Jaune: I don't understand how people can have preferences between Humans and Faunus ... We're all pretty much the same.

Neptune: ha! you say things like that, people are gonna think you're picking a fight!

Reese: *Going to serve another customer* Oh hey!

Jaune: *Blushing*

Reese: You're back again! Good to see you! Have fun!

Jaune: Y-Yeah! haha ...

Jaune: *Ahem* L-like I was saying I don't understand why people have preferences ...

Neptune: ... Face the facts man.

Sea Bunnies, or Jorunna Parva, have a set of organs resembling Lagomorphic ears near their 'face.' However, they are not hearing organs, but more akin to Scent organs. Their "tails" are external gills.

~~~~~

Jaune: Hey! Excuse me, are you Miss bunnygirl?

Reese: *beginning to run away* Sorry! You've mistaken me for someone else!

Jaune: Wait! !ou might fall if you suddenly-

Reese: *thud* Ouch!

Jaune: ... Run.

Jaune: *Helping her up* Hey, are you alright? Why did you start running?

Reese: Well, i'm ... not used to getting recognized in casual clothes ...

Jaune: ...? But I usually see you in a bunny suit though?

Reese: There's a separation between work and normal life.

Jaune: ... I'm Jaune by the way. It's nice to officially meet you.

Reese: ... you can call me Reese.

Sea Bunnies come in many colors, but all of them are covered in dark-tipped papillae.

~~~~~

Reese: Hey, how about a game? Whoever loses has to grant the other persona wish!

Jaune: Uh, Okay!

Reese: Rock! Paper! Scissors! Shoot!

Jaune: *Throws paper* ...

Jaune: Reese? Why didn't you extend your hand?

Reese: *Slowly raises her fist* Oh No~ I lost. It seems I'll have to grant you a wish~

Jaune: ... Did you lose on pur-

Reese: NO! Of course not!

Sea bunnies prey on Toxic Sponges. Some of these Toxins are used in Cancer Treatments.

~~~~~

Jaune: *carrying groceries for Reese* You're cute when you're not working Reese!

Reese: Ah ... Really?

~At her apartment~

Jaune: So do I just set these here, or- WHEN DID YOU CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES?

Reese: *in her bunny suit* You said I was cute? *Slams apartment door shut* Right?

Reese: As of right now, I will be working~

Jaune: W-WaiT!

Sea Bunnies are hermaphrodites. when mating, the pair will interlock their genitalia and exchange sperm.

~~~~~

Reese: *Serving Jaune a Drink*

*CLICK*

Reese: Huh?

Jaune: Ah! Aw, the power went out! Hang on, Ill get the

Announcement: Attention dear Customers, there seems to be an issue with the electricity. Please be patient while we fix it.

Jaune: ... I'll ... Turn the flashlight on on my phone- I left it on the table somewhere ...

Reese: Here, let me help look for it to-

*Gentle Squish*

Reese: Uwah!

Jaune: Ah! What happened?

*CLICK*

Jaune: Oh! The lights are back!

Reese: *Holding her hands to her chest*

Jaune: Huh? What's wrong?

Reese: *Blushing against her anger* Patrons Are not allowed to touch the girls at the bar!

Jaune: What Happened?!?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favorite Day

Part 2 of Favorite Woman

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: You, Jim Street's favorite woman, finally meet Street's team.

Warnings: fluff, banter, friendly betting, the usual

Word Count: 1.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest (ik it's not Street but it's cute)

Street takes your hand, smiling as the charm on your bracelet taps his wrist. He bought you the bracelet for Women’s Day, and you’ve worn it every day since. His initials are carved into the charm, and you look at it often.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” you muse as Street pulls you to his side.

“Me neither,” he admits, running his thumb gently under your lips. “Some people might think that I didn’t want to introduce you to my team.”

“Those people wouldn’t have had to be lonely while your team worked overtime every week since March.”

Street smiles and pulls you closer as the fall winds blow through Los Angeles. He taps your side and leads you up the short walkway to the house he shares with Luca. You’ve met Luca, but you’re growing nervous about the rest of Street’s team. His coworkers have become his family; it’s been a long time coming, and you don’t want to jeopardize the relationships Street has worked so hard for.

“Ignore Hondo,” Street suggests as he opens the door for you.

Watching Street’s profile, you murmur, “It’s hard to pay attention to anyone else.”

“There’s my best friend!” Luca calls as you enter.

“Thanks for cooking,” you respond, smiling as you pull your hand from Street’s to hug Dom.

“Streeter!” Hondo yells. You recognize him from pictures and smile to stifle your laugh as Street raises a hand.

“I’ll get to introductions, Hondo, try not to be so blatantly pathetic.”

Hondo stands, but Street pulls you before him and says your name. “This is my girlfriend. Girlfriend, this is Hondo, Deacon, and Tan.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you add. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Then you know Street’s a pathological liar,” Tan responds with a smile.

You offer your hand but don’t get a single handshake as you’re pulled into three hugs. Street’s friends are just as kind and welcoming as he said, and as you sit between Street and Deacon, you feel like you are part of the family.

“I see why you hid her so long,” Hondo jokes, smiling at Street.

“Yeah,” Luca agrees as he sets a plate on the table. “Because he gets more annoying every day.”

“I’m just glad they aren’t blaming me for how long it took,” you whisper to Deacon.

“Oh, we’ll be on your side for everything, even if it’s just to mess with Street,” he replies.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Deac,” Street says, abandoning his bickering with Hondo. “She’s part of me, so you can’t mess with me like that. She’s always right.”

“Somebody got that on camera, right?” you ask.

Luca returns with the last of the meal and sits across from you. As they begin eating, they ask you questions about how you and Street met, what you’ve done since you’ve been together, and hint at ideas about marriage. You find it incredibly easy to talk to them, and as you listen to their jokes and observe how well they get along, you smile and take Street’s hand under the table.

“Time for the heavy stuff,” Hondo announces as the food runs low. He places his napkin on the table and turns toward you and Street.

“I told you to return the bracelet when you had the chance,” you mumble to Street, holding his hand in your lap.

“Don’t go there,” he replies. “Hondo has a different idea of heavy stuff.”

“But I don’t,” Deacon interjects. “And we do have something important to talk about.”

“Do you, uh, do you want me to go?” you offer, gesturing toward the hallway to Street’s room.

“No,” Tan assures. “Street can go, if he’d like.”

“Ha ha,” Street deadpans. “Just spit it out, guys.”

“My wife Annie wants to meet you,” Deacon tells you as Hondo and Luca look at each other. “No rush.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply. “I’d really like that.”

“Okay,” Hondo begins. “It’s very clear that you’re in love, that you make Street tolerable.”

“We mean that in the nicest way,” Luca assures. “But… I can’t do it, Hondo.”

“Do you love him as much as he loves you?” Tan asks quickly. “See, wasn’t hard.”

Street shakes his head and begins to speak, but you gently squeeze his hand and smile.

“You all care about Street, and I appreciate it more than you believe. I’m guessing you’re asking because you have an idea of how much Street does for me, how he shows his love. Yes, he buys me gifts, like the expensive bracelet I wear, and takes me to nice restaurants. The answer to your question is undoubtedly, completely, yes. I love Street more than I have ever loved anyone or anything before in my life. You may not be able to see it when Street walks into a room, but he is the love of my life, and I do my best to show him every single day that I’m lucky enough.”

The men around you nod, watching you as Street turns toward you.

“That’s better than any wedding speech I’ve ever heard,” Deacon says, breaking the silence.

“I’m telling Annie!” Hondo yells.

“She didn’t write her own,” Deacon argues, “but be my guest.”

“Did I pass?” you whisper to Street.

He doesn’t answer, so you move to face him. Street’s eyes are fixed on you, and he doesn’t hear anything his friends say as he watches you with a lovestruck look in his eye.

“I know you do,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Heavy stuff now?” Luca asks.

“You mean that wasn’t the heavy stuff?” you question.

“Of course not,” Hondo responds. He smiles to ask, “Now we need to talk food and how often you can serve as a buffer between us and Streeter there.”

Street lists your favorite foods, then says, “And as often as possible.”

“What’s your favorite day of the year?” Tan asks.

You furrow your brow but answer, “November 6th.”

Street smiles, aware that you go above and beyond for birthdays and love celebrating him, but Tan sighs and gives Luca cash as Hondo fishes for his wallet. Deacon rolls his eyes and tells you this is normal, but your curiosity is piqued.

“What did you think I’d say?” you inquire.

“March 8th,” Tan and Hondo answer.

“Because of this one romancing me all day?” you ask, pointing to Street. “That was a good day, but, I mean, they’re all special with him.”

“If you like birthdays,” Tim begins before trailing off.

“I’m really glad I came tonight,” you say. “But there is one question I had for all of you, if that’s okay.”

The men around you nod, and Street leans closer to you as you ask, “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve seen Street do?”

Street groans as he hides behind you, and Hondo, Luca, and Tan speak over one another before Deacon shakes his head and assures him he has seen him do worse.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Street says against your neck. “And don’t think I’ll forget this when it’s time to write wedding speeches.”

[amostimprobabledream]

Animal Attraction (Grimmjow x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/60500386

Good lord, how you hated office parties.

But here you were, in itchy tights, shoes that were hurting your feet, and glitter on your face. You’d worn the shoes because they matched the dress and the tights because you were paranoid that the dress might be too short – you hadn’t had time to try it on when you bought it in a blind panic, and exposing the lower half of your butt cheeks to your boss would be a huge error on your part. …Or possibly lead to a promotion, depending on his proclivities. But not a risk you’re willing to run.

You’re now at the point where the festivities have drained you of your social battery and the artificial good cheer is grating on your nerves. All you want to do is go home, get comfortable and fling your bra off.

“Hey, so, I think I’m gonna…” you say to Chie, someone you’ve always gotten along with.

“Whaaat? You’re not leaving already, are you?” Chie asks, widening her big doe eyes – you roll yours playfully in response, you’ve put off leaving once already because she pulled out that weapon, but it won’t work on you twice.

“Yeah, I’m done. I can only take so much of this goddamn music.” You laugh, knocking back the last of your drink. Hey, at least those were free. “I’ll message when I get home, okay?”

Chie gives a comedic pout of defeat, the flashing lights shining on her lipgloss, and she holds out her arms.

“Fiiine, better not forget!”

You shake your head as you give her a hug – she’s the one who usually forget to text, not you, but you can’t be bothered to raise that point now, her expensive Jimmy Choo perfume enveloping you – you keep meaning to ask her which specific perfume it is-

“Aww, no hugs for me?”

Fuck.

You stiffen in annoyance as you release Chie – Keiji is another co-worker of yours and since he “broke up” with his ex, he’s been hovering around you and some of the other women in the office like a wasp at a picnic.

“Uh-“ you say, trying to think of a way to tell him to fuck off in a manner that won’t get you hauled straight down to HR. But you’re a little drink and your brain is working without all cylinders firing, so before you can do much else, Kenji is hugging you as well and you grunt in displeasure – did he fucking bathe in his cheap-ass aftershave?

“So, I’ll see you later!” you say to Chie, accidentally-on-purpose jamming the heel of your heeled boot down onto Kenji’s big toe and he grunts and loosens his grip and you slither away from him like an eel.

“Prick.” You snarl under your breath as you stomp towards the lobby, nearly making it outside before you have to double back for your coat.

The night air knocks you for a loop and for a second the whole world seems to waver before your eyes. You stand there for a second, waiting for your body to adjust to the sudden change, head tilted up at the sky, a dark blue studded with distant stars and the misty halo of the moon, when out of the corner of your eye you spot something that makes the breath catch in your throat.

A figure leans against the building across the road from you, arms folded, staring you down with eyes so blue they almost seem to glow in the dim.

“Gri- what- how did you know I’d be here?” you splutter intelligently, staring at him.

He sneers and pushes off the wall, stalking up to you with his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket, his shadow falling across your frame.

“Che. You think you’re hard to find?” he asks, an arrogant tilt to his head as he looks down at you. “I’d know your scent anywhere.”

His eyes slide up and down your frame and a leer pulls at his lips, his eyes narrowing a fraction. You belatedly realise you forgot to do up your coat, in such a rush to escape Kenji and his grasping arms you’d stumbled outside with it clumsily pulled on, so your sparkly little party dress that’s showing plenty of boob is on clear display.

“Nice.” Is Grimmjow’s concise assessment of your outfit as he takes another step close to you, and you’re rooted to the spot as you gaze up at him. “Easy access.”

Your mouth falls open at his words – you should be used to his audacity by now but he still manages to find ways to surprise you - but before indignation has a chance to formulate a biting retort, he’s pulling you in impatiently, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, searing hot in the cold outdoors.

You can’t prevent the little moan that leaves you – rough and brutal he may be, but damn does he know how to use that mouth.

Grimmjow isn’t content with only kissing your lips either – whenever he tracked you down like this, he’d always leave you flushed and covered in marks, bites and hickeys all over your neck and collarbones, finger marks on your wrists and thighs, handprints littering your ass…you always looked like you’ve been ravished by a wild beast by the time he’s done with you.

Which, to be honest, isn’t exactly wrong…

Suddenly, though, Grimmjow pauses in his important task of marking you up, his face inches away from your throat, and nervousness swirls through your bloodstream.

“Um, Grimmjow?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he grabs your head to hold you still and breathes in deeply. His scowl deepens.

“Wha-at?” you say in a slight whine, his expression scaring you slightly. When he goes quiet, it tends to mean things have gotten serious.

“You stink.” Grimmjow responds bluntly, still nosing at your neck. “You don’t smell like you. You smell like…”

His lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl and your stomach lurches – something about how inhuman he looks with that bone fragment on his cheek sends a primal warning signal in your brain urging you to flee, even if you know you’d only get as far as he allowed you to. He does so love the thrill of the hunt.

Fuck.

“It’s – some guy just hugged me out of nowhere before I left, I didn’t-“ you babble immediately, even though you know you didn’t do anything wrong and you don’t have to explain yourself, but the silence is deafening and you find yourself talking just to fill it.

Grimmjow is hardly mollified by your rambling and in a blur, suddenly the darkness of a nearby alleyway engulfs you. Your back meets hard brick and he’d holding you up off the ground with ease by your hips, your entire body weight meaning nothing to him.

“Yeah?” he growls.

He seems personally offended and sets about correcting your little faux pas right then and there. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of your throat, making you cry out, the noise loud in the cool darkness. Grimmjow grins with approval as he spots the little dots of blood welling in the indents of his fangs.

“Fuck, that hurt!” you complain, smacking his chest with the back of your hand, which has all the effect of smacking a wall.

“Good.” He says, licking at the blood with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, holding eye contact with you as he does it, and you feel your face turn hot, well acquainted with exactly what that tongue can do.

“You fucking- mmm~“

Your words are drowned out by more kissing – all your lipstick and gloss will be gone by the time he’s done, Grimmjow tends to treat any flavouring you put on your lips as a topping to his favourite dessert.

Grimmjow leans forward and uses his mouth to tug your bra down, your tits pushed out in front of his face, and he wastes no time in lapping at them, nipping at the sensitive undersides of your breasts, apparently determined to leave as much markings as he possibly can over as much of your flesh as he can reach. His wicked tongue circles your nipples, teasing them until you're pulling on his wild mane of blue hair. He chuffs in approval at the sting in his scalp, leering up at you. He likes it rough when you fuck, even though there’s not much you can do to hurt him.

"Someone's impatient." he drawls, quirking an eyebrow.

"Stop teasing me." you complain, squirming against him, though you’re going nowhere and his fingers. "If you're going to do something, then do it!"

"Brat." he hisses at you, and he pulls you against him with one strong arm around your waist, cradling your body to him like a ragdoll, and lands a sharp smack to your ass that makes you yelp. He likes the sound so much that he does it again on the other cheek, laughing when your whole body jolts.

He likes it when you're a brat, though, because he still does as you requested, his tongue circling your sensitive nipples, sending little sparks of pleasure through you, though like with most things he does, he’s just a little too rough, leaving them throbbing before he pulls his mouth away to focus his attention on the other breast. He leaves little sharp nips to your flesh too, enjoying the soft squeaks it drives from your mouth – you’re so intoxicatingly sensitive, he’d play with your tits all day long if he could.

“Grimmjow, mm…” you hiss, and he smirks as a new scent reaches his nose – he knows your body so well he can smell it when you’re aroused, like a shark can scent blood from miles away. A sense of prideful satisfaction courses through him at how quickly he was able to make you wet, from something so simple, so easy as to just give your pretty tits some attention.

Of course, much as he loves them, they’re not the main thing he’s after.

He's hard already, his length straining against his fly, and he grins and slowly unzips with one hand, giving you a little show as your eyes follow the smooth movement of his hand, a sliver of his black boxers visible, before they’re pulled down too. Your stomach does a little flip as he palms his cock, a smug grin on his face.

“Like what you see, don’t you?” he says, amused. “Look what your slutty little dress has done to me.”

“It’s not slutty, it’s fun!” you protest, mortified he thinks you purposefully wore a slutty dress to a work event, though he isn’t exactly a good measuring stick for that - Grimmjow tends to find any clothing of yours that shows off your flesh to be provocative – you once wore a pair of shorts, not even hotpants or Daisy dukes, just a cute little cotton pair you have for the summer, and innocently walked past him and he responded by pouncing on you and fucking you until you could barely walk, let alone leave the house in them.

“Oh yeah? Then let’s have fun.” He leers at you and you have to admit you walked right into that one.

Azure eyes flick up and down your attire for a second, assessing the situation, before he simply grabs your tights and wrenches them apart, the sound of fabric tearing loud in the quiet and revealing your bare legs to the cold as you gasp in surprise. He tugs your panties impatiently aside, his fingers brushing up against your soaked core, teasing at your clit with a sinister smirk.

"Grimmjow, no, not here-!" you whine in protest, and he laughs cruelly.

"Yes, here," he replied, relishing in your embarrassment, adjusting your position and nudging his way between your legs, letting you sink onto the blunt head of his cock, and you groan as he lets you feel every inch of it bullying its way into your soaked cunt. "Unless you'd prefer I take you inside and fuck you in front of everyone?"

Your eyes fly open with fear, because you know it's no empty threat- Grimmjow cares nothing for social conventions, especially not the ridiculous confining rules humans go by. No doubt he'd love to bend you over in front of all your colleagues and make it very clear you were not on the dating market. You getting fired wouldn't be of much concern to him either - he'd see it as a win, getting to keep you all to himself and fuck you at his leisure.

"No, no, don't even think about it-!" you hiss at him, but you can't bite back the groan of pleasure as his hard cock brushes up against your sweetspot, feeling almost burning hot inside you with the cold air nipping at your thighs.

"Then shut up and take it like a good girl."

Not that he gives you much of a choice in the matter, but Grimmjow likes to watch you turn into a needy, whining, moaning mess beneath him, so he's never been stingy with your pleasure. He watches with rapt attention as he lifts you up and down off his cock like you're nothing more than his little personal fucktoy, his to move and manhandle as he sees fit. And yet, it feels so fucking good, to surrender yourself to the base pleasures after spending all day performing for other people.

He crushes his chest to yours, pinning you against the alleyway wall like a butterfly to a board, and your legs wrap around his waist without any further prompting, the heels of your boots kicking weakly against the leather of his jacket.

He fucks you rough and slow and deep, laughing harshly as a myriad of emotions flash across your face, your lipstick smeared around your mouth and sweat beading your forehead, giving your skin a sheen that’s more like a glow, something he loves to see on you. You look amazing in the moonlight, the silver glow falling across your skin like water, not like the garish brightness of the lights inside. The sparkling sequins on your dress flash in the moonlight as he bounces you up and down on the length of his cock, and you can feel heat engulfing you, you’re too hot in your coat now, your body throbbing with pleasure and damp with sweat. The lingering, acidic sting of any cologne that might have transferred onto you is long gone, replaced with the unmistakable musk of sex.

“That’s right – you’re mine.” He snarls at you, snapping his hips up and driving a keening noise from your throat – before you met Grimmjow you didn’t even know you could make sounds like this, you weren’t even particularly vocal in the bedroom, but he loved listening to you plead and gasp and lose yourself in the moment, so he’d keep going until he heard what he wanted to hear. “These tits are mine , this ass is mine and this pussy is mine. I makin’ myself clear?”

“Oh, fuck- yes-“ you groan, head swimming with booze and pleasure both, despite the back of your skull knocking against the bricks with every thrust, like a little drumbeat.

“Say it.” He snarls. “Or you don’t get to come.”

You whine in protest, but he rams his cock deep into you and your mouth drops open like a trapdoor, your voice sounding strangulated as you utter the words; “Yours, yours, ‘m all yours, Grimmjow, don’t stop-"

Raucously laughter greets your ears and he drops you down a couple of inches so he can fuck you even deeper and your vision fuzzes at he hits just right-

“Grimmjow, yes, fuck, right there, right there-“ you chant, you can vaguely hear your own voice echoing back at you in the alleyway but you’re too blinded with lust to give a fuck anymore, and Grimmjow nips your ear in approval, obliging you by pounding into you at a relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt. You smell fucking incredible, like you but dialled up to a hundred, and with his own scent intertwined with it, he could get high off how good you smell right now.

“Thassit, good girl, good little slut.” He pants against your ear. “Nobody else fucks you just right, huh? Only me.”

“Only you, mmmh~”

Your thighs clench around him and he can feel you come, feel your walls clenching around his dick, your body trembling with the force of it. You muffle a cry of ecstasy against his shoulder, but he can hear you perfectly fine and holds you still, watching the look cross your features, panting and heavy-lidded and satisfied. It doesn’t take him too long to come after you do, and you can do nothing but take it as you feel him filling you up, your cunt still throbbing with aftershocks.

“Th-that…” you say, but the sentence fails to form, like a lightbulb sparking a few times before the fuse pops.

As the rushing sound in your ears begins to fade and the noise of your heavy breaths begin to die down – Grimmjow is barely winded, damn him, suddenly other sensations you’d blocked out in the throes of your impending orgasm. The uncomfortable, stifling heat of your coat, how your feet feel too tightly encase in your shoes, the roughness of the brick wall, Grimmjow’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you, one hand squeezing your ass…

And then, you hear someone saying your name, absolutely aghast, and you don't need to turn your head to see Kenji's shocked expression.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, unable to think of anything else to sum up the situation.

Grimmjow, unbothered and in fact able to hear the clumsy human dipshit approaching a mile off, turns his head, looking down at the other man from his superior height like Kenji is no more than an insect he'd dearly love to squash. Then a smug, sinister grin splits across his face.

"She's busy." Grimmjow says, his fingers tightening around your flesh possessively, using his body to shield your debauched form from Kenji’s eyes – not so much out of modesty but more refusal to let the little asshole see even a glimpse of your perfect flesh, he won’t allow you to be tainted by having some nobody’s eyes on you. “And you ever put your fucking greasy hands on her again it’ll be the last time you have hands.”

Kenji stutters, not even saying words, just meaningless syllables, looking like a scared puppy, and he turns tail and flees. You whine in embarrassment, clutching Grimmjow’s jacket.

“He saw me!” He could get me busted for…public indecency!” you say, even though technically you were somewhat out of sight – Kenji really ought to exercise a bit more caution before he goes poking about in dark paths.

“I’ll push him into traffic.” Grimmjow offers, pushing your damp hair off your forehead and pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead – he only does stuff like this in his relaxed post-coital state, so you’ve learned to treasure them. “Make it look like an accident.”

He probably isn’t joking, but you chuckle anyway and give your head a fond shake.

“Let’s go home and I’ll think about it.”

“Mm.” he grunts, hitching you up a little higher, one arm around your waist, using the other to tuck himself back into his jeans. You try to right the front of your dress, though there’s no saving your tights, they’re naught but tattered rags on your legs now. “We’ve got a long night ahead anyway.”

Your eyes pop open wide and you look up at him, nearly nose-to-nose with him.

“Wh…what’d you say?” you ask, and Grimmjow cocks his head.

“Oh, you thought we were done?” Grimmjow says casually, grinning at the look on your face. “Heh. You call that bullshit in there a party, sweetheart? I’ll show you a real fuckin’ party.”

[auclairedetoru]

Hello!! Your aot fics are so adorable!! Especially that Eren one, I really loved it. Since you said you would expand on it in the future, I was wondering if you'd want to do something like they get into a fight or something? Maybe one of them gets too busy with work/classes and just ends up neglecting the other and it leads to some hurt but hey, they're soulmates. They find their way back. If not though, just some more college! Eren x best friend! Reader? I love it!!

This happened before they got together, a moment that made Eren realise he would rather chop an arm and a leg off than make his best friend upset again.

At the time, y/n had a falling out with her group of friends, a misunderstanding happened and one of them blamed her which made everyone else turn their backs on her and unfriend her.

Eren on the other hand was saving up money so he could spend the three months of summer break at a specific beach he wanted to surf at, so he was trying to balance long hours of school and work and whenever he had free time he was extremely tired and most likely sleeping. He didn't know what was going on with y/n, in fact, this was the longest they went without talking to each other. He's embarrassed to say this but he would've forgotten about her if it wasn't for the fact he was constantly getting notifications from her.

If he was honest, he did get annoyed, but he tried to ignore it all. She was bombarding him with calls and texts, asking him where he was and why he wasn't answering her. What he didn't know was that y/n was trying to seek comfort from the only person she knew wouldn't hurt her the way the people she used to call her friends did, and was panicking when he kept leaving her on read or delivered.

One evening, there was a frantic series of knocks on Eren's door which woke him up in a panic thinking something was wrong. He opened the door to find his best friend standing on the opposite side, a grin on her face, “Eren! I've been knocking for so long, why didn't you answer?”

He let out a shaky sigh when he realised nothing was wrong and let her in, “fuck, y/n... I thought something bad happened.”

“Probably has something to do with the fact you look like you haven't slept in a decade.” Y/n raised an eyebrow while taking off her shoes, “what's up with that ?”

She was trying her best to cover up the fact she was crying an hour ago. She stumbled across a picture that her ex best friend posted of all of her old friend group together with the caption that was clearly shady towards her. It made her have a full blown break down and she couldn't think about being with anyone after that other than her best friend.

Eren ignored what she said and tried to wipe the tiredness from his face. The day wasn't going well for him, he forgot to turn in his assignment, he messed up at work multiple times which made his boss scold him at the end of his shift, and many other things happened that ruined his day more and more. But he couldn't let her know, he didn't want to seem weak in front of her.

“Nothing, just... Long day.”

He sighed when she took a seat on his couch, he was hoping to finish his nap at least until dinnertime, but it seemed like she had other plans.

“Sooo, What have you been up to? other than ignoring my texts and calls.”

“You know I wouldn't ignore you on purpose, y/n.” he murmurs softly, a hint of frustration present in his tone.

She shrugs, arms folded tightly across her chest as though she was holding herself together. She thought after spending over an hour crying she would stop feeling so emotional, but clearly she thought wrong because a new wave of emotions hit her again. She can feel her throat tighten and the sting of tears pricking her eyes once more.

“I don't know, you've left me on read a lot for someone who's not doing it on purpose,” she mumbles and looks away from him, a slight tremble in her voice, “but why did I expect more, since that seems to be the treatment I'm getting from everyone.”

“alright listen,” The sudden shift in his tone made her head snap towards him, his voice was sharper now, she never heard him talk to her like that before, “I don't know what bullshit made you catch an attitude, but I'm not in the mood to tolerate it. You've got plenty of friends so go complain to them instead of bothering me, god!”

She watched him with wide eyes as he slumped back against the couch and threw an arm over his eyes followed by a long and frustrated sigh. She couldn't hold back anymore and silently let the tears go. She never expected such harsh words to come from Eren, someone who she trusted to never break her heart and hurt her She went to stand up, but he quickly put his other arm out to stop her,

“No, sit down, we have a lot of talking to do.”

“There's nothing else to say-” she tried to say while holding back her son's, but he cut her off.

“I need to apologise, so sit.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks despite the fact she was still crying. He removed his arm from his face and sat up to face her. He could tell now that something happened that led to what she said, and he needed to get to the bottom of it, but he needed to address his actions first.

“I'm sorry I said that, I promise you I don't mean any word that came out of my mouth,” he gently took her hand in his, and she let him, too weak to fight him off, “I've just had a rough day, everything that could possibly go wrong did and it all pissed me off.”

She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his free hand, stopping her gently. He held her gaze to make sure he had her full attention before he continued speaking.

“With that being said, I shouldn't have let it out on you and I am willing to apologise a million times to show how much I regret my actions.”

“No it's okay, once is enough,” her voice was strained as she tried to keep her emotions in control so she wouldn't burst out in sobs, "it's just-” she looked down at their interviewing hands and sniffed, “I've had a couple of bad days, so many things kept piling up and you weren't with me like usual,” her voice broke, unable to hold back anymore as the tears flew down, “I felt so alone.”

Eren's heart shattered at the sight of her breaking down and immediately wrapped his arms around her to pull her to his chest, “shh, it's okay, let it all out, I've got you now.”

He let her cry for as long as she needed, offering her comforting touches and words, and slipping an apology here and there because despite her telling him one was enough, he still felt very guilty over what he said and as she told him what happened with her friend group and all the horrible things she heard them say behind her back, his guilt grew so heavy it brought tears to his eyes.

His best friend, his sweet angel, his entire world, how could anyone think she would do anything to hurt others? One time she felt bad because she didn't turn on her TV for over a month and she didn't want it to feel useless, how would someone who thought that try to harm a close friend of hers? He felt so mad, so angry, how could he not? They hurt his most precious person.

He tried to comfort her in any way he could to make up for the days he wasn't there, and it seemed like being held and heard was all she wanted from him, so he did, the only time he separated from her was to pick up the food delivery. She ended up spending the night and fell asleep on his chest after venting her heart out to him.

As he held her sleeping body close to his, he started thinking about all their previous arguments, and how they always resolved them on the spot, never going to sleep mad at each other. That ended up being brought up in a conversation while he was out with friends and how he doesn't like making or seeing her upset because he could physically feel her pain, like he was the one hurting.

“damn bro, that's some soulmates shit,” Connie said before taking a huge bite of the fried chicken they were eating but kept his mouth open to cool it down while huffing "ah fuck, too hot" which made Eren laugh.

“he's right though,” Armin chimes in, a soft smile on his face, “remember when you got mad at each other and stormed off but ended up both going to the same spot? Or how you both caught the flu at the same time even though you were in two different cities? Or how she was out of town but knew something bad happened to you when you broke your leg? I don't think those are normal things that happen to everyone.”

Soulmates... Yeah, they're right. He couldn't describe them in any better way. They're meant for each other, whether they like it or not.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Jealous

@jegulus-microfic November 12, Word count 746

Previous part First part

James jumped out of his car before any of the others could even unbuckle their seatbelts and opened Regulus’s door for him. Regulus looked up at him a bit bewildered, but took his hand anyway and let James guide him out of the car. 

“How come you never do that for me?” Remus pouted as he walked around the car to where Sirius stood waiting.

“Because of what I let you do to me this morning,” Sirius quipped, raising his brow, daring Remus to keep going as he would definitely describe every moment in minute detail. He’d done it before and would feel no shame in recounting their exploits in front of his brother. Remus smartly kept his mouth shut, and they headed into the gallery silently. 

James was surprised how many people were milling around the exhibits and just how large the art show actually was. There were so many artists showcasing their work. 

“Where’s yours?” He asked Regulus as they followed the crowd to the first display. 

“Back right,” Regulus told him, pointing in the right direction. James started to walk that way, but Regulus tugged his hand to stop him. “No, we have to look at everybody’s. We can’t just go straight to mine,” Regulus muttered quickly. 

“Why not?” James questioned. “I want to see yours,” Regulus’s cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. 

“I need a few minutes to prepare myself for going over there,” Regulus admitted, clearly nervous about how James would react.

“Let’s go look at some art then,” James said, kissing the back of Regulus’s hand and following after Sirius and Remus. “Thank you for telling me what you needed, love. You can always do that, and I’ll respect it every time,” He didn’t need to look down to know how deep the red was that coloured Regulus’s cheeks now, he could quite happily picture it in his head.

They caught up with Sirius and Remus, the former having a heated discussion with Remus in front of the artist about his piece. 

“I just don’t get it,” Sirius was saying. “I mean, it’s just a tennis ball,” Remus sighed. 

“It’s modern art; the tennis ball represents the way that commercialism has changed the way sports are viewed,”

“It represents a game of fetch,” Sirius retorted, much to the artist's ire. Remus hurriedly moved Sirius along to a painting of a park. “See, Remus, there’s a dog playing fetch with a tennis ball,” He said loudly as they took in the work. 

“I changed my mind,” Regulus said quietly into James’s ear. “I can not follow him around here, let's just go see my stuff,” James beamed down at him. 

“Lead the way, love,” 

Regulus led them all the way to the back of the hall and stopped in front of ‘Burk with a Nana’. “Wait!” James exclaimed. “They let you display it with that name?!” Regulus shrugged. 

“Art,” He said simply, as a means of explanation. “As long as it isn’t too sweary, they don’t mind.” 

James moved with Regulus, looking at each piece. Regulus seemed to lean towards painting, but there were charcoal sketches, clay sculptures and a cat made from intricately twisted gold-coloured wire. James was in awe of Regulus and was about to say so when he spotted him chatting with a tall, dirty-blonde-haired man. He felt suddenly quite jealous, an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling at the easy way they were conversing and the smile on Regulus’s face. He strode over there, putting a possessive arm around Regulus and waited to be introduced. 

“James, this is Evan. Our parents know each other. Evan, this is James, my, er, my…”

“Boyfriend,” James provided helpfully. To be fair to Regulus, they hadn’t discussed labels, but, by the pleased look on Regulus’s face, he quite liked this one. Evan’s eyebrows shot up his face in surprise. 

“Oh, wow,” He said. “Erm, wow, Regulus, that’s so good,” His face softened. “I’m so happy for you. I’m here with my boyfriend, actually. I think you know him. Oh, look, here he is now. Darling, look who it is,” A slim-built man in an expensive-looking suit strode over to their little group, his dark brown hair slicked back expertly, showing off the sparking diamond earring, glinting off the light as he neared them. James felt Regulus still at his side. 

“Barty,” Regulus breathed out when the man stopped before them, looking shocked at who Evan was talking to. 

“Reggie?” 

[cyarikaplease]

imagineeeee consummating your marriage with din

smut under the cut ↓ ↓ ↓

“Din Djarin, repeat after me,” the Amorer says, “Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar’tome. Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

You watch as your sweet, nervous Mandalorian grabs your hands, trembling a little. For Mandalorians, weddings are usually no big deal. They’re very casual about it, no extra frills. You’re literally standing in front of the forge, the Armorer in between you two. It’s all so informal, no hoards of people watching you profess your undying love for one another.

And yet, Din’s hands still shake like a leaf in a rainstorm as he repeats the vows to you. He’s nervous because this is not just anyone he’s marrying. He’s marrying you, someone who makes him feel complete, desired, and seen, even under all the beskar. He never thought he’d be the type of guy to get married until you came along, understanding his needs and his wants. You’re so patient with him, understanding of all his customs and traditions. Even when he told you he couldn’t have sex until he married you, you waited. When he told you he couldn’t show you his face until you were married, you waited. Even when your friends on Nevarro told you you were crazy for agreeing to this, you just ignored them. And right there that’s when Din knew you were the one for him.

You smile at him, a soft smile reassuring him that there’s nothing to be nervous about. The Armorer asks you to repeat the vows and you do, squeezing Din’s hands a little tighter.

“And now I pronounce you two as riduurs. Let the festivities begin!” the Armorer says, leading you and Din to the rest of the Mandalorians. A loud cheer erupts from the crowd as you and Din stand side by side, officially riduurs now. A mixture of smiling faces and visors of helmets stare back at you. It’s a stark contrast from the intimate ceremony you just had moments ago. You’re excited to celebrate but you also just want quality time alone with your riduur.

And so you mentally prepare yourself for the many congratulations you’re about to receive, but also… probing questions. Such as…

Are you two going to… do it tonight?

Well, the answer is yes. It’s weird that people would ask you that. However, Mandalorians are very open and nonchalant about these types of topics.

Regardless, you’re excited to see your riduur’s face and have sex with him, two firsts in the same night. Your stomach is swirling with excitement, anxious to see what he looks like; what he feels like.

You can tell he’s getting a little antsy, anxious even, by the way, he clings to your side. His hand graces the small on your back, a sign he’s ready to go. He’s not one for grand public displays of affection. You look at him and his visor meets your gaze, trying to imagine what expression he’s wearing under there. You imagine his eyes are pleading with yours, trying to tell you to get out here and spend some alone time together.

You take the hint, starting to bid your goodbyes to the others. A few of them who aren’t wearing their helmets shoot you suggestive smirks and a few eyebrow raises, insinuating what’s about to happen the second you’re alone. Regardless of the sex or the helmet coming off, you’re just excited to be alone with him in general, something that’s so rare for you two lately, especially with Grogu around. But Bo-Katan has offered to watch him for the night, saying something about how the newlyweds need time to be just that, newlyweds.

With that, you bid your last goodbye to the party and head to your and Din’s house; a simple one made of stone. The Mandalorians constructed a small village once they got settled in. You’re just excited you don’t have to sleep in the cramped cot of the Razor Crest.

You burst through the door and head to your bedroom. He follows you in, standing in front of you silently and awkwardly. He’s so nervous. You can tell by his body language. You close the gap in between you two, grabbing his hand and wrapping your other arm around him.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” you reassure him.

“I know, I just…”

“What is it?”

“Can I keep the helmet on?”

Oh. You can’t lie, your stomach just sank a little.

“Of course. I never want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I’m just worried you’ll hate the way I look.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well regardless of how you look, regardless if you want to keep the helmet on, I love you.”

“Thank you,” he says, letting go of your hand to caress your cheek, “But I still want to do the other stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” you say suggestively, your mouth curving into a smirk.

“Yes, I do,” he says, his hand trailing down to your ass, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? How much I thought about you underneath me?”

For a virgin, his dirty talk is damn good. You feel your cheeks heat up and your knees buckle. If he keeps talking like this in that low, sultry tone you’re going to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Show me,” you tease, taking off your clothes one by one.

He pushes you down on the bed, pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the floor. He takes off his cape but he can’t be bothered to take off anything else. He’s too eager to explore your body and find out what makes you squirm. He kneels down beside you on the bed, pulling your legs apart and trailing two fingers up and down your cunt.

“So wet for me,” he coos.

“For my riduur,” you add.

He brings his fingers to your mouth, coaxing it open. You moisten them, prepping them to be inserted inside you. You wonder where he got this idea from and you figure that… he probably watched porn to prepare. The thought gives you the urge to giggle but you resist, not wanting him to feel bad.

He slides a finger in your cunt and you wish you could see the reaction on his face when he feels just how warm and wet you are.

“You’re so…”

“Wet?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, how-”

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Din.”

“Really?” he says, his visor not leaving his finger in your cunt.

“I married you, didn’t I?” you chuckle again.

A sharp gasp cuts you off. He slides another finger in without warning. That bastard. But it feels so good. He curls them against your walls, pressing them up against your g-spot. You weren’t expecting to be at the edge so fast. Your walls tense up around his fingers in anticipation of release. And with one last come here motion of his fingers, you’re coming, cunt clenching and unclenching erratically.

“Did you just-”

“Yeah,” you respond, blissed out and a little breathless.

He pulls his hand from your cunt, looking at the mess you made on his fingers, holding them up in front of his helmet.

“Wow,” he says softly, admiring the slickness in between his fingers.

He just has to have you already. He takes his already hard cock out of his flight suit, pre-cum gathered at the head and gives it a few strokes. You’ve never seen his cock before so you rest on your elbows, propping yourself up a bit to get a good look. He’s intimidatingly large and it’s almost a crime he kept it locked up all the time. You spread your legs apart even farther to accommodate how broad he is.

“You ready, riduur?” he asks, moving to situate himself between your thighs.

He thrusts into you, feeling his cock split you open. And at first, he stays still for a moment, taking the time to feel you, to appreciate this.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he says, just as he begins thrusting in and out of you.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you repeat, your voice jumping an octave.

He leans down so he’s face to face with you, resting his elbows on either side of your head. This is all you’ve ever wanted, on your back with Din inside you, exploring your walls. Even if he won’t remove his helmet just yet you’re still ecstatic that you’re together.

But then something happens…

He cums. Before you did. It was bound to happen though. Losing your virginity isn’t some magical moment like people make it out to be. His warm release spills inside you and he’s silent.

“Din?” you ask. He’s still inside you, completely frozen, and his visor not meeting your face.

“...Din?” you ask again, “Say something. Please.”

“I… finished,” he says, his cock softening inside you.

He pulls out and lies down beside you on the bed. He’s as stiff as a board, arms rigid and resting at his side.

“I know, but it’s okay,” you say, rolling on your side and placing a hand on his chest.

“It’s not. You didn’t cum,” he says, his voice stiff and robotic almost, like he’s trying to mask how he feels.

“It was your first time. It was bound to happen,” you reassure him.

He falls silent again so you take it upon yourself to straddle him, resting your hands on his chest.

You bring your hands to the edge of his helmet, pausing to ask, “May I?”

“Yes,” he says softly.

You lift his helmet off his head to reveal his face, brown eyes filled with worry, brows furrowed, curls matted by the helmet, and a slight pout to his lips… his lips. You lean forward and kiss him, hands caressing either side of his face, and your thumbs brushing his facial hair.

“We can always go again,” you say, pulling back and looking deep into his eyes.

“I know… I just thought it would be different.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“What’s that?”

“What about taking off the armor? You know… get naked with me. It might help.”

“Okay,” he says, with a shaky breath. You move off of him, letting him stand up to take everything off. He removes each piece meticulously, setting them in a neat pile on the floor before taking off his boots and his flight suit. You watch as he does so, taking in his completely bare form. Scars, freckles, tattoos– all gracing his skin perfectly. Thick, black tribal-style lines encircle his forearms up to his biceps, some of the ink disrupted by scars. He has a tattoo of the mythosaur signet on his left pectoral, some of the ink faded and blown out with time. Somehow you knew he wasn’t bare under all that armor. To put it simply, he’s beautiful, everything about him is. Your eyes move down to his cock, already hard and sticking straight out again.

“Let me try something, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, still very nervous.

“Lie down for me,” you say, scooching over for him.

He lies down on the bed and you move to straddle him again. But instead of sinking down onto his cock, you mark his body with your mouth, nipping and biting at his skin. He shudders at the contact of your teeth on his skin as you move across his body, starting at his groin and working your way upwards. As you scooch forward, your cunt rests on his cock, the head just grazing your wetness. He lets out a small whimper at the teasing touch, prompting you to poke your head up from the mark you’re leaving on his chest.

“Be patient,” you giggle.

“But what’s all this for?” he pants.

“Just showing you how much I adore you.”

“R-Really?” he says. Poor thing is so nervous, so sweet.

“Mhm. You’re beautiful, Din. This couldn’t have worked out better for me,” you say, before returning your mouth to his skin.

He groans at the feeling of you biting, licking, and kissing his skin, moving from his chest to his collarbone. His breath hitches as you inch your way closer to his neck, eliciting a deep moan from him when your teeth graze a certain spot. That must be the spot. The spot that makes him melt into putty in your hands.

“Cyar’ika, please,” he whines.

“What’s that?” you ask teasingly.

“I’m ready again,” he whimpers.

“Okay, okay. You’ve been patient,” you chuckle, moving so you’re resting directly over his cock. You lower yourself down onto him, taking his full length inside you in one swift motion. You rest your hands on his chest as you rock your hips back and forth, feeling his cock etch itself deeper and deeper in your cunt.

“You feel so good, riduur, so wet,” he moans, hands moving to squeeze your waist.

“You feel so good, too, Din– Ah!” you say, the pitch of your voice getting higher as his cock hits that spot inside you.

His hands squeeze your waist even harder, blissed out while he’s encapsulated by your warmth; your wetness.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you moan, grinding yourself even harder against him.

“Yeah??” he asks excitedly.

You don’t even get to answer, your orgasm interrupting you. Your walls flutter around his cock and the look on Din’s face when he realizes his cock made you cum. Pleasure erupts from your core and spreads outwards, stars dancing in your vision. Your orgasm triggers his and you’re filled with the feeling of his cum spilling inside you once again. Except this orgasm is different for him. It’s louder, more intense, more visceral. His body glistens with sweat while he repeatedly blinks, coming down from his high. You feel him go soft inside you and pull yourself off of him, resting your head on his chest.

“Thanks for being patient with me,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Anything for you, riduur,” you say, smirking at the last word.

“What?” he chuckles, “You are my riduur.”

“It still doesn’t feel real, I suppose,” you say, inching closer to kiss him.

“I guess it doesn’t. I don’t want to ever get used to it, though.”

“Me neither,” you respond, resting back down on his chest.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he whispers.

You repeat the phrase back to him, entangled in the arms of your riduur, falling asleep peacefully.

[izzyy-stuff]

For your 300 follower bash, can I request a short story/drabble where the reader is either the sixth member of TXT or a member of a gg like maybe Le Sserafim or Aespa and is in a relationship with any member (I'm ot5 so it really doesn't matter who <3) I do kind of like the idea of Hyuka being the love interest and can totally picture the other members teasing him a lot, but again any member is fine <33

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 - 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈

bf!blond!Kai x fem!reader

in which no matter how much his friends tease him about his girlfriend, he knows they love her just as much as he does.

wc 1.4k

warnings kissing, slightly suggestive

↪ izzy speaks... first fic for the 300 bash!! I am happy it's with huening too! I've been meaning to use these pictures for a while now.

event post | event masterlist

The smile on your face slowly fades away as you watch the three dots disappear, leaving you on ‘seen’. You raise an eyebrow in confusion, but you don’t get a chance to pay it any more attention as your best friend, Yunjin, wraps her arm around your shoulders, smirking.  

“Look who’s being all lovey-dovey again,” she teases, giggling as she snatches your phone. “You guys are so adorable it makes me sick.” Kazuha and Chaewon share a laugh with her, shaking their heads at the brunette. “Hey! Give it back! I’m in the middle of a conversation!” You try to take your phone back, but it only leads to more of Yujin’s laughing. 

Little did  you know that your dear boyfriend Kai is in the same situation as you, hiding his face in embarrassment as Beomgyu holds his phone. 

“Can’t wait to see you again,” Beomgyu reads out loud, running around the room. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to do something like this. It was Kai’s privacy, and there was no way he would cross the line, but a dare was a dare. 

“Just read it all! Get it over with,” Kai whines, his cheeks red as he stares down at his lap, listening just like everyone else. “Oh, god. I’m not reading that. That’s for sure,” Beomgyu frowns, catching Yeonjun’s attention. The youngest’s eyes widen as he realizes what chats one of his best friends has just stumbled upon. “No, no, no, don’t look through that! This far is enough. Give it back,” the blond looks up again, his eyes full of fear and awkwardness. 

But before Beomgyu can do as he asked for, Yeonjun is already up, stealing the phone from him. “Yeonjun!” Kai yells, his mind too clouded with thoughts to use honorifics. “Oh my god!” The eldest gasps. “How can our fans call you an angel?” He dramatizes. “You’re nasty.” 

“Just kill me,” Huening sighs, closing his eyes. Taehyun chuckles, patting his back. “It’s not the end of the world,” he reminds the blond, rolling his eyes when he notices Yeonjun taking pictures of the chats on his phone. Sometimes, he doubted if Jun was actually the eldest of them all. “It might be, though! She is going to kill me if she finds out you’ve read our chats.” 

“I won’t tell a soul,” Yeonjun proclaims, still laughing as he hands Kai his phone back. “But I’m glad you don’t act like a complete angel, at least with your girlfriend. Honestly, the whole innocent act has been freaking me out.” 

“I’m not even going to say anything to that,” Kai answers, gripping his phone tightly as if he were scared someone might take it away from him again. “Now, answer your girl. You don’t leave a girl waiting when she asks to hang out.” Hyuka rolls his eyes at him, opening his phone again, “I’m not stupid. I know what to do and what not.” 

“Right,” Beomgyu is the first to scoff, but it doesn’t move Kai a bit. Once his girlfriend had his attention, nothing bothered him anymore. 

♡⸝⸝  

You watch Sakura, Yujin and Kazuha go over the choreography repeatedly, mentally going over the steps along with them. You definitely couldn’t say you would excel the dance yet, but you’ve had enough for today. If you went through the choreography again, your legs might as well give up. 

“Okay, we’re clocking out now! Have fun!” Eunchae grins, swinging her bag over her shoulder while Chaewon stands beside her wearing the same annoying smirk. You catch Yujin rolling her eyes and have to laugh. “I am going to leave in a bit, too,” you say, and your best friend immediately turns to you. “What? I thought we were grabbing dinner together after practice!” She complains. 

You open your mouth to answer her, but all that leaves your lips is a shaky breath full of regret. You squeeze your eyes shut as you remember the plans you made, clapping your hands together and muttering a quiet “sorry” through them. Yujin sighs when she notices your eyes. She can’t even blame you. Not when you seem so genuine with your apology. “I kind of…forgot about it,” you admit. “And made plans with Kai instead.” 

“Alright then. You’re lucky I know Kai has been busy, and you haven’t seen him much lately,” she shakes her head, and you smile again, jumping up to hug her. “Thank you, thank you!” Yujin smiles as she wraps her hands around you. “We can have dinner tomorrow. What do you think?” You ask hopefully, and she chuckles, nodding. “Go hang out with your boyfriend now,” she says, pushing you toward the door with a laugh. 

“I’ll see you tonight! Bye!” You quickly wave at Sakura and Kazuha before the door closes behind you, and you stand in the hallway, beaming as you notice your boyfriend sitting on the side, scrolling on his phone. “Hey,” you greet him quietly, making him raise his head immediately. “You should have come in. No one would mind.” Kai grabs his bag from the bench, slightly shaking his head as he walks to you. “It’s fine,” he assures you before gently pressing his lips on yours, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other rests on your cheek. “Hi, pretty,” he mumbles his greeting against your lips, making you bite your bottom lip to constrain your smile. 

Hyuka holds your hand as you walk through the HYBE building, telling you about his practice and some of the stupid dares they did during their break – purposefully not mentioning the one involving his friends reading your chats – while you tell him about your practice and the main points of your new choreography, bragging about how fun they are. 

He only lets go of your hand when you get to the entrance, smiling as he lets you walk outside first, watching you walk to your car while he waits for a few minutes, just like he did many times before in order not to get anyone suspicious about your relationship with him. People don’t need to know that you’re on your way to his dorm. 

♡⸝⸝  

You chuckle at the familiar voices as you step inside the dorm room. You feel at home. Not only because of your boyfriend, but also his friends, who’ve never been anything but welcoming to you. 

“Don’t mind then. Beomgyu and Soobin got immersed in League again,” Yeonjun simply waves at you as he passes the front door on his way to his room. “Taehyun just finished making dinner, or you know where the snacks are,” he smiles. “Thank you,” you smile back, taking off your shoes. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Hyuka to arrive, too, pulling you in for a hug as soon as he gets to you. You giggle, wrapping your arms around him and relaxing. “Have they been bothering you a lot?” Your boyfriend asks softly, and you swear you could get lost in his eyes when they lock with yours. You shake your head, grabbing his hand. “You know that’s not possible.” You’re right. No matter how much his friends tease him about you whenever they get the chance, they love you just as much as Kai does. He has to smile, remembering all the times they had told him how happy they were for him. 

“Right,” Kai mumbles quietly, his eyes on your hand holding his as you take him to his room. 

No matter how much time he spends with you, every moment and touch will always be as important to him as when you first got together. “Get a room!” Beomgyu yells, making Hyuka snap out of his thoughts. “Shut up!” He yells back at him, hiding his flushed cheeks as he follows you. 

You never need to do much with Kai to have fun. Honestly, you prefer not to do anything when you’re with him. Being able to relax after a long day with some lazy kisses and back rubs sometimes means so much more than having big plans. And today is no different. 

Kai tugs your hair behind your ear and pulls you in for a kiss as soon as he sits on his bed. You get comfortable on his lap, grinning into the kiss as you close your eyes. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against your lips. “I haven’t been in the shower yet. I’m all stinky,” you laugh, cupping his cheek. “Still beautiful,” he assures you, not wasting any time and pressing his lips on yours again, unable to get enough. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you whisper back with a smile.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here !