#forearm exercise at home

[fitnessmantram]

Best Forearm Exercises of All Time || Forearm Exercise at Gym #forearmwo...

Arms are similar to calves and abs as well: They're a muscle bunch that ought to get standard work consistently. As a result, you won't have to take a "rest" day from training your forearms.

Read More : Long Head Triceps Exercises

[musclexfit]

Intense 5 min dumbbell forearm workout at home

[abhi-views]

10 Best Bodyweight Exercises to Lose Fat at Home (No Equipment Needed!)

Are you looking for effective ways to burn fat and sculpt your body without stepping foot in a gym? Look no further than these 10 powerful bodyweight exercises! Combining high intensity with minimal impact, these moves are perfect for beginners and experienced exercisers alike. Remember, the key to maximizing fat loss is maintaining a calorie deficit, but these exercises will definitely help you…

[poppy-metal]

ok OK i need to get back into the mindset to finish this p2 of dilf!Art so i need to talk to you about dilf!Art who uses you for free use but in the sense of coming up behind you with a “m’sorry just need it” before mounting you like a fucking dog and humping the shit out of you

he needs it so bad :((( especially when you're doing household tasks.... acting like a little housewife.... doing the dishes - making food - things you dont even have to do, because he's rich, he has staff, but you like to take care of him sometimes, of his home. makes you feel good. accomplished.

and art - well. hes a simple man. he's always hyped up after time on the court. its just training, exercise. but tennis always gets his blood pumping - especially now that he actually enjoys it again. a day of slamming balls across the court, working his style, perfecting it, he's drenched in sweat. his bones aching. he just wants to take a fucking nap. have dinner with you and his daughter.

when he comes into the kitchen and sees you, half bent at the waist as you rinse a pot, he just. stops and stares. he registers the oven on, and something baking inside it. his tennis bag drops.

you look over your shoulder. smile at the sight of him. flushed and tall next to the kitchen island. "hi," you tell him sweetly. "you're back!"

"im back." he echoes. swallows. puts his hand on the counter next to him with his fingers splayed out. looks behind him into the living room. "where's lily?"

you follow his gaze - "she's upstairs reading. she's halfway through percy jackson. she'll probably talk your ear off about it at dinner."

he blinks and turns back to give you his full attention. his lips are parted. he licks them. "you're cooking." he states. takes one step forward.

tilting your head, you study him. his chest is moving up and down more quickly than normal. his cheeks are pink, which could be from his activity from outside, but his eyes are dark. oh. hes turned on. by you cooking?

"i am." you tell him. "nothing fancy. im not as good as the chef you hired." you shrug. "but i thought something simple might be nice, i dunno."

"it is nice." he's covered most of the space between you now. "you're nice."

you turn back to the sink, biting your bottom lip to hide your giddy smile. being praised by art sends warmth right to your lower belly. its like sinking into a warm bath. you feel the heat of arts body behind you - "i just wanted to make you happy." you tell him softly.

arts arms come up on each side of you, caging you in. you feel his chest brush against your back and you breathe in. his forearm brushes against you as he reaches out and shuts off the running water to the sink. "im very happy." you feel his nose against the back of your neck next, trailing up, up, up, his hips meet your ass next. hes a wall of solid muscle behind you. "you smell so good. how do you always smell so good - "

you tilt your neck, letting him have access to you which he takes full advantage of. nuzzling into your throat. lips at the shell of your ear, tugging it between his teeth. "Its -" you try, fumble and try again. hard to talk in full sentences when art donaldsons hard cock is pressing against the crease of your ass. "its um. warm vanilla."

"mm." he hums. your hips are pinned between the sink and his pelvis. the short sundress you're wearing is already drawing up your thighs as he pushes forward with his body, making you bend. "i wanna tell you how much this means to me, and how much i appreciate you - but I'm distracted by how much i really, really want to fuck you."

you wiggle your butt against him. feel warm wet flood between your legs. "you know," you pant, "you know you can have anything you want - anytime - b-but the food -"

arts hands are already at your thighs, shoving your dress up and up, up around your hips, puddling it around your waist - "I'll be quick." he promises, and you hear the clink of his belt as he yanks it through the loops - the sound of his shorts hitting the ground next. "need to feel you -" you feel him, warm and hard at your inner thigh, "fuck, you're not wearing any panties. you wanted this -"

you cant even deny it. arching back into him as he finds the seam of your pussy, "i always want you." you whine, toes curling when you feel him split you open - parting you and pushing inside slick and easy. "ohhhhh-"

"you're so good." art sounds agonized. his fingers dig into your hips as he starts to thrust - smacking his hips into your ass - quick, hard pounds of his cock. he really fucking - "needed this." he groans. "needed your - fucking tight little pussy. always fucking need it-"

the pain of the counter digging into your hips just adds to the pleasure somehow. feeling completely pinned on arts cock, forced to take what you're given as he takes what he needs from your body. your warm tight body.

"its yours." you moan, soft and worshipful. "whenever you want it - its yours -"

arts teeth are sharp as they dig into the back of your neck. you think briefly of a rabbit caught in the jaws of a predator - your heart beating rapidly as you're held in place - art groans into your flesh like hes wounded. wet slaps filling the kitchen as he fucks you harder.

you tighten around him. know soon he'll be filling you up, pumping you full. you hope dinner will be salvageable. you dont think you give a fuck, though.

[dmitriene]

teaching simon riley to give himself a rest, that he doesn't needs to wake up in the early crack of dawn at home, fill his stomach with just a cup of warm tea before setting off to do some sports exercises, too focused on not losing his form, accustomed to the daily army schedule, even through he's already home, with you.

you have to remind him that he's home, distracting him in the middle of a workout outside, calling him over inside for breakfast, watching simon's eyebrows furrow and his tawny gaze become confused, feeling his whole body burning after push ups, red skin sweaty, and you, in nothing but a nightie, went to look for him because you woke up in your shared bed alone.

it's wrong, you shouldn't miss him around the house when he's already back, simon's lips pressed tight together, a rumbled, hushed apology slipping past them, full of embarrassment at himself, but you don't offer him anything aside from understanding smile and a tug to his tense, veiny forearm, you know him too well, which is why there's not a single, chastising word uttered.

simon ends up being dragged back to the bed after a good, hefty breakfast and a quick shower you accompany him in, helping him to wash his body under the warm sprays, careful with the fresh bruises and cuts he got after recent mission, before leading his slowly slugging body back to the messed, cottony sheets, luring him in with gentle touches.

he get's it, how better it is to stay cuddled with you for longer, instead of waking too early, his solid, muscular body curled tight against yours, bundled, limbs stretching out to sweep and melt in the sun warmed sheets, in the sweep of your fingers over his spine, every divot catching beneath, your voice a lullaby, soothing him back to sleep.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[caraphernellie]

colouring ellie's tattoo when anxiety kicks in and you're in need of remedy. on the loveseat in her homely garage, sat thighs-touchingly close with her arm held out for you. with the sleeve rolled up to her elbow, ellie watches you pick out calming coloured markers to fill in the stunning line-work on her forearm. leafy, serene greens to detail the ferns, focusing all of your attention to the task.

keeping one's hands busy is a surefire way to ground yourself. ellie knows it to be true, having always found solace in the art of sketching or playing a relaxing tune on her guitar. there are times when she tries to soothe the stormy sea of thoughts in your head with her guitar in hand or a song to sing, but it doesn't always work, and it leads to solutions such as this.

shading the moth in tawny, golden, and bronze tones, your hand is gentle but not so much steady. shakier, lighter than usual, but ellie leans her free hand over to rub your wrist and remind in a soft whisper to just breathe. you nod, practising exercises to keep the air flowing in and out of your body in a slow, comfortable pace. there's no pressure, nor any rush, to calm down, and that makes this so much easier.

capping the marker after detailing the last area of ellie's inked arm, you set it down with a final relieved sigh, an uncertain smile making its way to your face. "done."

"yeah? looks good, babe," ellie says, taking a close look at the work finally. "man, i can't wait to show this off. it's rad. you did a good job."

[fakevalentine]

gurl the idea of Ellie taking you for a jog as an excuse to gill u up with water. making sure u stop to drink plenty during the jog and definitely after. I just know once r has drank enough, Ellie would pushing push on r's tummy and twase them. "You gonna piss urself babe? really?" jusy push and push on r's tummy

female reader x ellie williams

"gotta stay hydrated, baby."

is what ellie said. what she insisted on, filling one of those obnoxiously big water bottles with motivational phrases to the brim and constantly reminding you to take gulps as you jogged along the neighbourhood together.

for your health, of course... stay hydrated...

you were totally fine at first. but the more you drank, the more fuller you feel. and suddenly, you cant keep up. you cant hold it.

you call out behind her, the empty street making your voice echo. "els, i cant anymore." you whine, slowing to a stop. ellie huffs a laugh that you fail to hear in your distressed state.

she halts and turns to look at you with a very unimpressed look.

she sighs dramatically, slamming her feet against the pavement as she walks slowly towards you, eyeing the now empty water bottle in your hand. "you giving up on me already?"

you groan, squeezing your thighs together in hope to ease the pressure in your bladder as you shake your head. "no, i just," you look around the, thankfully, still empty streets, and then back at her. "i need to pee..."

her expression is playful and unserious, and you just frown. "oh, you need to pee?" she thinks its kinda cute, the way you shift your weight uncomfortably and bite your lip.

her hand strokes up the side of your thigh, "how bad?"

"bad, ellie. can we please go home?"

she hums, looking down to where her fingers now toy with the waistband of your pants. "oh dont be like that, baby. we're getting our exercise, right?"

you dont realise that shes fucking with you, all you can focus on is trying to not to wet yourself outside— three streets away from home.

"just hold it."

you furrow your eyebrows, "hold it?" you shake your head. "i cant. please ellie."

maybe she would of if it wasnt so entertaining, took you home and watch you disappear to the bathroom like an honourable girlfriend. but wheres the fun in that? instead she lays her hand flat against your abdomen, pushing down on your tummy

your breath gets caught in your throat and you reach down to grab her wrist, the sudden pressure taking you by surprise.

you scold her, warning that if she does that youre gonna pee. you certainly dont want that, but maybe ellie does. maybe this was the plan all along— of course, that has yet to click in your head.

she just laughs at you, "whats wrong, huh? you gonna piss yourself, baby?"

youre humiliated already, your face rising in temperature at her teasing. you whimper, nails digging into her tattooed forearm as she applies more pressure on your stomach, no sympathy in her green eyes

you cant ignore or deny the warmth that floods your cunt, but you can certainly feel ashamed of it. oh, but youre confused. why does the embarrassment of soaking yourself give you a rush? why do you want to give ellie what she so clearly wants?

and how could you ever deny ellie williams?

[bkgml]

sleepy make out session with katsuki!

“this day feels like it’s never gonna end.” you whine, hiding your face in your boyfriends shoulder.

“WHY WAS TRAINING SO. LONG.” mina yells, dropping her head down on her arms.

it’s lunch. you and your friends just went through the worst training exercise.

“AIZAWA WAS TRYING TO KILL US, I SWEAR.”

“shut up. it wasn’t even hard.” katsuki boasted.

your friends are complain about katsuki before returning to their normal conversations.

“you’re such a liar.” you said quietly to your boyfriend.

he whips his head in your direction.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he glares.

“i know you’re tired. i saw you huffing and puffing. don’t act like you’re slick.” you tease.

“oh shut up.” he grumbles and you laugh.

“if you just admit it i’ll let you take a nap with me after school.” you hold his hand under the table.

he looks at you and thinks.

“fucking hell. fine.” he said.

“fine… what?”

he glares at you.

“fine i was fucking tired. now let me nap with you.”

you kiss his cheek.

“that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

the day only feels longer at it continues.

“i can’t make the walk home, katsuki. just leave me here for dead.” you complain.

“it’s like a two minute walk, you baby. come on.” he drags you along into his dorm.

he flops on you immediately. pushing you back onto his bed.

“not yet, kats. i don’t wanna fall asleep in my uniform.” you pat his back, signalling for him to get up.

he groans.

“fine.” he stands up and pulls you with him before going to his closet and picking one of his t-shirts and sweat pants and throwing them at you. then he removes his clothes down to his boxers and tank top.

right after you finish changing he tackles you onto his bed.

“fuck. ‘m so tired.” he says, face buried in your neck.

“i knew it!” you squeal.

“yeah yeah, go to fuckin sleep.” he says while lifting himself to his forearms to give you a kiss.

you peck his lips but you get surprised when he deepens the kiss, obsessed with you and your lips.

your lips move together as one while your hands come to rest in his hair, making him groan softly.

he notices you’re struggling to breathe and unfortunately pulls away.

he moves on to your neck instead.

teeth nipping at your skin and soothing it with light brushes of his lips against your skin.

you sigh.

“that feels nice, baby.” you breathe out.

“mhm, ‘m still fuckin tired tho.” he pulls away from your neck to give one final peck (or two) to your lips.

he shifts down your body and rests his head on your chest.

“you got the best fuckin tits.” he says, sleepily.

you laugh. he’s only this transparent when he’s really tired.

“thanks, kats.” you weave your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails on his scalp lightly.

he groans, pecks one of your tits, then passed out from exhaustion.

“i love you, suki baby.” you sigh before drifting off into sleep.

[lexirosewrites]

Not thought out but I've been thinking a lot about registered comfort Omegas this week.

In my imagining it would be fairly easy to register, you just have to pay the fee and take the month long training course and then bam, you're registered. It's fairly common, packs usually have one or two registered comfort Omegas, they classes are mostly about learning to regulate your scent without patched, best ways to use vocalizations, and grounding exercises for people experiencing a drop.

Steve registered not long after he presented. Between health class and the more advanced CPR/first aid classes he took as a lifeguard and swim captain he learns quite a bit about it and figures since he's the only presented Omega in the Unsidedown Pack and someone should be registered in case things go haywire again. The fact that none of them have had a drop yet by the end of season 2 is a miracle.

Being a comfort Omega is what really solidifies his bond with Robin. After everything with the Russians and the bathroom and the mindflayer they're already ride or die or each other but when the ambulance goes to drop Robin off at her house everything starts to hit her all at once and she starts to drop. They don't alert the EMTs, Steve just hops out and helps her inside explaining that he's registered to her and her frantic parents. Steve himself is beat to shit but he's instantly in Omega Mode making Robin a nest in her bed and helping her regulate. It comes with the added bonus of giving Steve a place that isn't his empty house to process everything that happened. It only takes a day and a half to get Robin back up from the drop but after that for all intents and purposes she's become his pack Alpha regardless of the lack of romance between them.

When the fourth go around with the Upsidedown happens and Eddie is mangled beyond belief but alive Steve volunteers to be his comfort Omega. The Alpha is is a serious drop, waking up panicked and unaware of his surroundings and in deep pain. He won't make it without a comfort Omega and no other Omega in Hawkins will touch him with a ten foot pool when they first bring him in so Steve might not know him all that well but like Steve will take care of him.

But opps, looks like this is actually going to be a long term situation because Eddie is going to need months of bed rest and his Alpha is all out of sorts and the pain will be intense for months before he can even attempt physical therapy at which point it will still be painful. The doctors estimate he'll need Steve for at least 5 months before Eddie is stable enough to get weaned off.

So Steve buckles down, had Robin take apart his nest at home and bring it in whole Wayne brings by some of the Munson's softest clothes and blankets for Steve to add to the best he builds around Eddie in the bonded pair bed the hospital moves Eddie too. Of course by the time 5 months is past and Eddie is walking with more ease and less pain with the assistants of forearm crutches Steve isn't going anywhere because they are both deeply in love.

this is so cute!!! i love when you guys come up with new world building stuff and we all just roll with it💛

[astralnymphh]

what if u get a scratch and vampire ellie smells u from a mile away and she’s so desperate to have your blood that she lures you into her house and begs you for just a little taste. she whines and apologizes over and over again for being so needy while drinking your blood.

no smut. but suggestive! doc version included

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ oohhhh.. literally loser!vampire!ellie. the layout would be reader who's ultimate best friends with her; long time childhood friends potentially? and, let's also exercise the chance that ellie was fortunate enough to keep her vampirism veiled from your knowledge all this time. (if edward cullen could, she can too.) so, on one superficially mundane day near the woods where you happen to break skin by means i will leave up to individual imagination, ellie just so happens to be a mile away - returning home after a hunt proved to be in vain (girl had to feed bad but was way too delirious to concentrate.) - so, what transpires when she picks up the familiar scent of her beloved friends blood, an aroma commonly encountered, but always ignored despite her bloodstained appetite? yield.

"hey, my cars' just by the curb there. can give you a ride back to my place, patch that scratch up. 'ts not a big deal."

strange for her to utter that - it's not a big deal, when your puny little scratch is incapable of even irritating you that bad, but ellie insists, softly. what she omitted, is exactly what will happen between plopping on her bed and actually plastering a band-aid on that scratch. blood was drawn, crimson had dripped, and nothing goes off without a hitch when a voracious vamp meets the nectar of life, nothing. "you don't have to look— just, let me, please? again, i'm so sorry for asking." her voice withered and apologetic, a breathy and sedated mess with her fingers twiddling and twining with yours, sat adjacent to you just looking so so guilty for even bringing the topic up; vex with herself that she couldn't ignore it, like all the other past instances. "ellie, i— ugh, okay. if it's only a little.." and— that reply of sanction should excite her, god forbid she doesn't have the biggest crush on you, and now she's doing this thing viewed as intimate by some of her peers? but she can't help but feel.. sorrowfully faulted at first.

she drags her lips over the nub of your wrist before she separates them and bares her pretty teeth, poking your skin in little dints. vampiric foreplay. "you do this with every girl?" and you say it earnestly, yet with a light heart. no ill will bending in your tone nor intention. yet vulnerability casts a pall over ellie right now, taking blood from the one she can't keep her damn desires off, "i don't— i don't, no, fuck.. never, you're the only one so far." she mumbles, withdrawing her teeth a moment to spew that recital of apologies "so fuckin' sorry, please don't watch me. i just need.. just need—" she's literally so ashamed of her vehement needs for your taste, she can't even complete her sentences, unsheathing her teeth once more and burying them into the flesh by your wrist bone, grunting simultaneously with your pretty little wince.

although it is strange— on the edge of daunting, you managed to muster a fondness for it after a minute or so; the adrenaline rush at first bite, the excess of blood smearing her pale rose lips in a blotchy pattern, sometimes trickling the rise of her chin, those cursedly cute noises she makes during the feed, the fumble of her fingers trying to pull your arm deeper into her mouth like your wrist alone wasn't suitable of quenching, suspending her sucks with a spluttered or breathless, "damn it, sorry, just a little longer." whispered unto the delicate massacre painting your lower forearm— you love it. too much, you love her sudden jump in energy, pinning you on the mattress with her whole body and lodging her knee between your thighs, all while pleasuring you with pain, you fucking adore it. she has to know.

"take all you need, ellie. i don't mind, you can have me all you want, hmm?"

who knows where her mouth ended up next.

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . BIG TEXT VER

ignore why i wrote sm i did not plan to yap this much apologies if its rushed i am quite tired.

[megalony]

Home Invasion- Part 2

This is the follow up of my Eddie x Evan x Deaf! Reader imagine, thank you all for the lovely feedback and a lovely anon for this idea. I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream

911 Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: When Eddie and Evan are at work, someone breaks into their home and (Y/n) ends up being attacked.

Enjoy.

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

Reaching her arms out in front of her, (Y/n) curled her hands down around Eddie's biceps and gave him a light shake to make him jump and catch his attention. She rose a brow when he turned his head to the side to look down at her with his lips curved up on one side.

When he leaned forward to try and press a kiss to her temple, (Y/n) pulled back and shook her head, feeling her stomach flip when he frowned.

Holding her hands out flat, (Y/n) pressed them together then parted them to the sides. Then she held her hands out in front of her with her fingers curled into her palms and her index finger and thumb pressed together. She moved her hands back and forth in front of her, crooking her index finger while her lips pursed and she watched the way Eddie's frown curved back into a grin.

Stop running.

"Sorry, Bobby puts us on a timer. In and out," Eddie checked another item off the shopping list held tightly in his fist before he leaned over and pecked her lips before she could pull away again.

He was so used to going shopping with Bobby and Hen for the station, he was always on shopping duty almost every week. Mainly because he was efficient enough to finish the shop in less than twenty minutes. Eddie was used to Bobby giving them each a list and sending them in the shop like they were doing drill exercises.

It was hard to snap out of that routine when he went shopping for his own family rather than for the station house.

Eddie smiled when (Y/n) reached out and curled her hands around his bicep, standing so close she was almost sitting on his hip. He leaned over, pressing his forearms down into the trolley while he looked over the list and bit down on the pen in his other hand.

He liked the way (Y/n) perched her chin on his shoulder and nuzzled her nose against his neck because it sent shivers tingling through his blood and made his body quake.

His eyes followed (Y/n)'s hand as she pointed at her chest, then curled her fingers and crooked her index finger. She curled and uncurled her finger whilst moving her hand in a slow line towards Eddie. Cereal. She was going to go and get the cereal.

Unravelling herself from Eddie's arm, (Y/n) stood a step to the side and jutted her hip out to the side so it bumped into the trolley. Her lips curved into a rather sassy grin which made Eddie tilt his head up to pay attention to what she was about to sign. Her hands crossed in front of her chest then uncrossed and moved down near her hips before she curled her index finger and thumb and moved her hands in front of her again.

But when she finally held her hand up straight and curled her wrist to circle her hand in a clockwise motion, she saw Eddie grin brightly.

Don't run away.

He straightened up so he was back to towering over her and took a step closer so he could reach out and press a finger beneath her chin. He jutted her head back so she was looking up at him, suddenly thankful no one else was in the aisle to witness them.

"I wouldn't dare." He murmured quietly, slow enough for her to read his lips before he leaned in and stole a kiss.

His thumb brushed across (Y/n)'s chin and he nipped at her bottom lip before he pulled back and made a point of walking very slowly down the aisle to show he wasn't about to race off. He couldn't always help speeding around the shop, he had been trained by Bobby to be swift and not to daudle or hang around for anything.

Whereas (Y/n) didn't like to run around the shop, grabbing everything and moving like they were doing some sort of hit and run robbery.

And it was usually Evan who did the weekly shop, he was the only one out of the three of them who actually enjoyed shopping. He was like a child in a toy shop because Evan made the weekly food menu for the house and he and (Y/n) were the ones who did the cooking. They didn't let Eddie near the kitchen unless he was making cereal; that was the only thing he could make properly.

Evan had taken Chris out to the cinema today. He had a thing for all the animated movies and whenever a new kid's movie came out in the cinema, Evan was the first one in the cinema to see them. Eddie wasn't so keen and was very happy for Evan to take Chris for the afternoon.

(Y/n) didn't go to the cinema very often. They didn't show many films with subtitles and they only put subtitles on movies in the evenings so she didn't have many opportunities to take Chris to the cinema. It was easier to wait and watch the movies at home when they came out on the tv.

Rather than stay at home, alone, (Y/n) joined Eddie to do the shopping. It had been almost two weeks since someone broke in and (Y/n) hadn't been alone in the house yet. If both the boys were at work, (Y/n) either went round to see Maddie or she waited at the station because Bobby had graciously told her she could come round whenever she liked and stay as long as she wanted.

And if she was home alone with Chris, they ended up at the park or on an evening drive to get out the house.

(Y/n) was waiting for the day one of the boys told her to stop being silly and brave being alone. She was anxiously waiting for them to snap or sit her down and kindly tell her they couldn't hold her hand and make sure one of them was always by her side twenty four seven.

But neither of them were ever going to do that.

Eddie and Evan had agreed that for as long as they could and in whatever way they could, one of them would be home or be around (Y/n) until she told them she was fine being alone. They would do whatever they could to make her feel safe.

A quiet hum vibrated at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she pressed her lips together tightly to try and make sure she wasn't accidentally humming very loudly in the middle of the shop and drawing attention to herself.

Her fingers skimmed across the shelves as she turned the corner and moved into the next aisle.

When a sudden tightening feeling started to creep into her chest, (Y/n) glanced around the aisle and turned her head to look back over her shoulder.

There was nothing there.

Unease rattled down her spine and spread through her arms down to her fingertips as she looked ahead and moved just a little bit quicker to get to the end of the aisle. She used to pride herself on being so self aware and having a good gage of her surroundings. (Y/n) could sense and feel when people were near, the boys could never sneak up on her or give her a jumpscare when she was in a certain mood.

Now, every little shift in temperature, every soft breeze or hazy movement out the corner of her eye had her spinning around in circles, barely breathing as she tried to find the source of her panic.

Every touch, every movement and every glimpse became threatening when she didn't feel safe.

(Y/n) turned back around and moved ahead into the next aisle, speeding up to get near the end so she could grab Chris's usual rainbow hoops and the cornflakes for Evan. She grabbed the biggest box she could see for Chris and darted her eyes around for Evan's box.

Her teeth sank down into her lower lip and she coiled the box closer against her chest before she looked down and slowly stood on the empty crate on the floor. Why did they have to put cornflakes on the top shelf? Didn't they know it was one of the most commonly bought items?

Just as her fingers scraped the box, a sudden chill crept up the back of (Y/n)'s neck and a horrible sense of dread built up in the pit of her stomach. Her hand clenched around the cardboard box like claws piercing into prey and she went against every instinct she had and turned her head towards the left as slowly as she could.

Oh God.

She lost her balance and stumbled off the crate and onto the marble floor, watching the cereal box tumble down the corner of her eye in slow motion but it didn't make her wince or jump or react like it should have.

Her body stayed as still as a picture, frozen in time as her eyes locked onto a figure walking past the end of the aisle.

She had seen that awful, shaggy brown haircut before with greasy locks that flopped around his ears. She remembered those dark green eyes. Eyes that had been full of anger and blown wide with panic when she crashed down into the coffee table. Those eyes were the last thing (Y/n) had seen before she collided with the table and subsequently passed out.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s blood and made her body tremble as she stood, frozen to the spot. Unable to look away even after the man walked out of sight towards a different aisle.

He hadn't seen her. Would he recognise her if he had? Would he have tried to approach her or just carry on walking as if she meant nothing at all to him? Would he have come over to taunt her, maybe ask how she was after her fall? Maybe he had forgotten what she looked like.

(Y/n) hadn't forgotten him. She didn't forget how he hurt her and how he had gotten away before anyone even knew something was amiss.

With Chris's box of cereal now crushed between her arm and her chest, dinted right down the middle and most likely with half a bag of broken pieces, (Y/n) managed to turn around.

She couldn't feel her feet when they thundered against the floor and carried her in a sprint around the corner. Her body turned and twisted to the side, somehow still agile and graceful while she avoided colliding into someone's trolley and bolted. Her head twisted to the left, furiously glancing down each aisle until she locked her eyes on her partner.

Eddie was stood in an empty aisle, hands on his hips, one knee jutted forward, the pen tucked behind his ear and their shopping list pinned neatly between his lips. He was looking for the specific brand of protein drinks he and Evan had been taking to work with them recently.

(Y/n) wasn't sure if she made a noise that caught his attention or if he heard her panting madly to try and catch back her stolen breath. But either way, his body turned to the right just as she stormed down the aisle towards him. Her arm moved and dropped the box of cereal on the floor a few feet away from the trolley.

There was barely any time for Eddie to move or process the sight ahead of him before (Y/n) barrelled into him and knocked him back three feet into the trolley. Her arms bound around his middle, deadlocking him against her while her forehead pushed forward and buried into the middle of his chest right against his sternum.

Panic was the first thing that Eddie felt when she grabbed him.

His arms froze in mid-air and his eyes bulged in their sockets when he felt that she was pressing herself against him so tightly her nose was becoming squashed into his chest and he could feel each hot breath she panted into his shirt. Her body trembled against his in a way that made Eddie jutter back and forth and he didn't know what to do.

"Woah, baby." He pulled the piece of paper from his lips and tossed it limply into the trolley behind him before he coiled his arms cautiously around her.

His hand cradled the back of her head while his other arm deadlocked around her waist just in case she was about to collapse or her knees were going to giveway. Eddie pressed his lips against the top of her head and tried humming into her hair to calm her down but he couldn't help but dart his eyes around for any sign of a threat or a problem.

He could see a few passers-by giving them odd looks and one old lady even smiled at him as if it was totally normal to have a display of intimacy in the middle of a shop.

But he couldn't see anything that would class as a problem or any sign of a threat.

With a deep breath, Eddie leaned his upper chest back and moved his hands to cup (Y/n)'s face in his palms. His thumbs brushed beneath her eyes, catching a stray tear while he moved her head so her chin was pressing into his chest but she was finally looking up at him.

Eddie kept one hand cupping the side of (Y/n)'s face while he moved his right hand and curled his fingers into his palm. Leaving his thumb and pinky sticking out, he moved his curled fingers to press into his chin before he pulled his hand down.

"What's wrong?"

(Y/n) dug her fingers into Eddie's back, scratching her nails into his shirt as she tried to pull her head from his hold and smother her face back into his chest again. She felt better when she darkened her senses and the only thing she could comprehend was the feel of his chest and she smell of his cologne flooding through her nose.

What was she supposed to tell him? How could she explain she had seen a split second glimpse of someone and she thought, only thought, that it might be the man who attacked her?

How stupid was that going to make her seem?

He looked so familiar. She was so sure it was him, but he walked away. (Y/n) saw him from a distance and for all she knew, he could have been a figment of her imagination. She might have imagined and overreacted to something very plain and simple.

It couldn't have been him, though. It was highly unlikely that after two weeks, (Y/n) would see the same man in the same shop she was in, just by coincidence.

But what if it was him?

Her attention was forced back to Eddie when he gripped her chin and lifted her head from his chest, forcing her to look up at him while he moved his free hand to rub circles over his chest.

Breathe.

Eddie let go of her and took one slow, cautious step back so he could try and sign because she wasn't paying enough attention to read his lips. But as soon as he stepped back, she moved forward and deadlocked her arms around his chest again, too afraid to let him go. Something bad had clearly gone on while he had left her for less than five minutes in another aisle.

He leaned back but allowed (Y/n)'s arms to stay around his middle and he did his best to sign around her. He clenched his hands into fists and held them near his chest before he pulled them down and pointed his index fingers out. Then he turned his palms facing upwards and shook his hands around like he was pretending to juggle.

"Baby, what's happened?"

(Y/n) uncurled her arms from Eddie enough to hover her hands in front of her and shake them around her chest before she stuck her thumb up and pointed it at her chest.

"Scared of what?" Eddie didn't understand. How had she scared herself? They were in a store, what could she have done to scare herself other than almost collide with someone or fall over?

(Y/n) raised a hand towards her eye and moved her finger back and forth for a second before she curled her fingers and pinched her index finger and thumb together, rotating her hand in a circle. It was easier to say she thought she saw something than trying to explain to Eddie that she might have seen her attacker. She didn't want to panic him more than she already had and if she was wrong she was going to look a fool.

Eddie swallowed down a sigh and pressed his lips together in a thin line when (Y/n) repeated the sign for 'scared myself'. She was trying to calm him down and although her words weren't working, her actions were because Eddie could see she was breathing more rationally and evenly now and her eyes weren't watering or fuelled with panic.

"Are you sure?" He pointed at her then held his index finger and thumb out, pressed his finger to his chin and motioned his hand towards her.

His eyes widened when (Y/n) reached forward and curled both her hands around his bicep so she could reel his arm into her chest and cling to him like a monkey to a tree. The action unsettled him because he could see she was still rattled and he didn't know why. But she wasn't in floods of tears or spiralling into a panic attack and Eddie didn't want to push her into one by continuing the conversation.

He reached down with his free hand and grabbed the cereal box she dropped and tossed it into the trolley. His eyes remained on (Y/n) for a while as they walked. Eddie didn't like the way she tightened her fingers into his arm when someone passed them by.

Her nose and lips pressed just below his shoulder over his shirt and (Y/n) kept her eyes on the trolley to stop herself from overthinking and panicking too much.

It couldn't have been the same person. She was just becoming paranoid.

***

Venom swirled in (Y/n)'s pupils that were turning into black holes the longer she stared down at the coffee table.

Wood. The new coffee table was made of wood. No metal frame to scrape into (Y/n)'s skin and give her bruises that still hadn't faded away and scratch marks that cut deep enough to leave little scars. No glass top that could easily shatter if she were to be thrown onto it again. No chance of another accident that led to a four hour stay in the emergency room picking glass out of her hair and arm.

They shouldn't have needed to buy a new coffee table. (Y/n) liked the old one, there was nothing wrong with it until she literally fell through it.

Eddie and Evan couldn't stomach the thought of another glass table and they had been more than relieved that the dining table was made of oak or that would have been switched as well. They didn't want any reminders of the fact their girl had been forcefully smashed through a pane of glass.

The small discoloured mark on the wood floor from her blood stain was more than enough of a reminder about what happened.

Tears dripped down (Y/n)'s face and her nails scratched so deeply into her upper arms that she was beginning to draw blood. Her elbows pinned into her chest as her upper body slowly rocked back and forth on the sofa.

The tv was playing an old re-run of one of Eddie's favoured Spanish tella-novella shows. (Y/n) couldn't find the will to try and watch something new and actually focus on the tv; it was on as background stimulation rather than entertainment.

"No."

The word fell from her lips on a constant loop, sometimes loud, sometimes deathly quiet and inaudible. But it was the only thing she could say and comprehend as she pushed up from the sofa and launched the remote on the floor near to the tv.

She couldn't even last an hour alone in the house. Maddie had gone home just over half an hour ago and (Y/n) couldn't handle it. Both the boys were on shift together and (Y/n) knew deep in her heart that the station was where she was going to go. Since Maddie walked out the door, the thought of the station had lodged itself in the back of her mind.

She couldn't bare to go into the dining room alone. She didn't want to bring her crafts into the living room or the bedroom. She didn't want to be in the house when no one else was here and if her back was turned to the door, she was making herself easy prey. Again.

With her bag slung on her shoulder, (Y/n) coiled her arms around her chest and hurried out the front door. She barely managed to lock it before she was speeding down the path and around the block.

Home wasn't safe if one of her boys weren't with her.

How was (Y/n) supposed to protect herself when she failed last time? She didn't know she was supposed to be protecting herself from anyone before the stranger broke in. She couldn't hear anything. A burglar could be as loud as he wanted, breaking the door frame, picking the locks and the windows, he could crash into anything and break as many ornaments in the house as he wanted and (Y/n) wouldn't know unless she saw some movement.

With her back turned, she was making herself a target and (Y/n) couldn't constantly be spinning around in circles to check behind her and make sure she was safe. At least with Eddie or Evan by her side, they could hear the things she didn't and she wouldn't get hurt if someone broke in when one of the boys was home.

Walking the streets didn't feel safe anymore.

(Y/n) had plucked up the courage to take Chris to school for the past two days and even he had noticed the way (Y/n) was constantly looking over her shoulder and gripping his hand tighter and tighter the further away from home they walked.

It didn't help that (Y/n) felt sure she was seeing a familiar figure whenever she left the house. She could see a tall, looming figure somewhere on her walk when she left the house. Leaning against a lamp post, walking twenty feet behind her and Chris. Hovering near a car but not actually moving or getting anything in or out of the car. And she couldn't see the figure's face which didn't help when she felt like she was being watched. She couldn't even describe who was watching her.

(Y/n) rubbed her arm against her chest, itching the stitches through her bandage that she had scratched enough to make it come loose and hang near her elbow. She wanted to tear out each stitch, no matter if it meant she would bleed out or not. They were itching and when she was panicked, her arm started to ache and feel heavy.

Panic bubbled up in her chest and made the tears fall faster down her face when she felt the incessant urge to turn her head and look over her shoulder.

The figure.

Looming far back down the road in the direction she had just come from. It had to be a coincidence, that had to be a different person from the figure she thought she was seeing around her almost every day.

Look forward. Keep moving. Don't run.

Mantra after mantra circled around in (Y/n)'s head as she tried not to bolt into a run. She was too far away from the station to run all the way there and not stumble or be caught- if indeed she was being chased at all.

After five paces, (Y/n) crossed the road and rounded the corner, veering off to the right, coming out of the culdesac they lived in. She knew she shouldn't, but she looked back again. He was following her. He had crossed the road and sped up so there was less than the width of a car between them.

She was being followed.

Her fingers rummaged around in her bag and shakily curled around her phone. She needed to message one of the boys and tell them she was coming down to the station. If she didn't get there within ten minutes and she told them she was coming over, they would know something was wrong. Just in case her 'friend' got her before she got there.

Not Safe!! Coming to the station. Need help!

It happened to be Evan that she clicked on. His was the first contact that popped up on her screen. And he was a worrier. She was going to panic him, but if she sent him something calm and serene and she didn't turn up he wouldn't panic as much as he would if she let him knonw something wasn't right.

For a few seconds, she thought about holding her phone to her ear and pretending to be on a call. But she couldn't. The man was close behind her, close enough that he would be able to hear that she wasn't actually talking. And if she did talk and pretend to have a conversation, he would notice right away that she was hearing impaired. She didn't need to give him more motivation to hurt her.

She could feel her panic rising the further away from home she got because she was halfway between home and the station. Halfway to nowhere if he caught up with her soon.

(Y/n) crossed three more roads and got onto the main street in half the time it would usually have taken her to get this close to the station. Sweat was pouring off of her in buckets from a combination of exhersion and panic. Her shirt was clinging to her chest and back and her legs were aching from speed walking and doing her best not to burst out into a run.

I want my boys. I want my boys!

Something like a squeak burned in the back of (Y/n)'s throat when she glanced her eyes at the car next to her on her left.

She could see his reflection in the window. He was close.

Run!

It didn't matter if she bolted down the street anymore. It didn't matter that people were going to see her fleeing down the street and wonder what on Earth she was doing. It didn't matter that he would know she knew she was being followed and that she was in danger. All that mattered was reaching the station before she was grabbed. Again.

Her bag flung into her side and whacked against her back as she ran as fast as her pounding feet and burning legs would carry her. Her right hand clutched her bag to keep it on her shoulder, she needed it as a weapon in case he caught her.

Her free arm waved madly at her side to give extra momentum and push her further as her lungs started to burn and deflate and a stitch tore through her stomach like she had been shot. She needed to keep going. (Y/n) had to round the next corner, cross the road and get into the fire house where she would be safe. He might be stupid enough to chase her in broad daylight, but he couldn't try and attack or snatch her from a fire house where dozens of people would be working and in plain view of him.

A daring glance over her shoulder made (Y/n) scream and she knew the sound was loud because her lips vibrated and her throat burned. He was running after her. She really was being chased down the street.

Her feet skidded as she pounded round the corner and bumped into the wall when her balance was thrown off. Her hip burned and a feeble cry left her lips when the bandage around her arm scraped against the brick wall and took a stitch off with it. But she couldn't stop. The blood would have to trickle down her arm and leave a trail in her wake. She had to keep going.

In her blind panic, (Y/n) didn't bother to look, she stumbled off the pavement and onto the road.

The firehouse. The big, burning red building was right there across from her. It was within her reach. All she had to do was cross the road.

Her body shuddered and her arms coiled into her chest when a flash of dark silver caught the corner of her left eye. A car. Her mind screamed, malfunctioning with the panic of whether to stop dead in the middle of the road or run faster.

She ran faster. She had more chance of getting away from the car and her attacker if she ran rather than if she stopped and missed the car but got caught by the man.

Tears streamed down her burning face and her hands scraped the gravel road, cutting her palms and imbedding grit into the skin when she narrowly missed the car that screeched to a halt two feet away from her as she went down on her knees on the other side of the road. Her hands burned, her arm was shaking in agony and she could barely feel her hands or feet from the numb panic that was making all the blood go to her head and her stomach.

(Y/n) couldn't work out what the driver was saying. He had his head stuck out the car window and his arms were waving at her like mad.

She pushed up to her feet and curled one burning, scraped hand into a fist which she frantically rubbed over her chest as she tried to shout "I'm sorry!" as loud as she could in case he didn't know sign language. She didn't mean to panic him and ruin his day.

She stumbled over her feet and fell backwards, landing harshly on her bum on the edge of the pavement when her eyes locked on her attacker. He was running towards her at full speed. She felt caught between putting her arms up in defence and trying to keep moving. (Y/n) settled for turning and laying her stomach on the pavement to try and push herself up to her feet again.

"No!" Her hands clenched into fists, bashing into his chest when his rough hands grabbed her shoulders.

It was the same touch. The same fingers that bruised her two weeks ago. The same calloused hands that pushed her into the coffee table. The same green eyes that burned into her with a rage (Y/n) had seen very few times in her life. She wasn't being hurt again. She wasn't becoming a victim again.

(Y/n) tried to make whatever noise she could, as loud as she seemed to be able to. Without hearing, it was impossible to determine whether she was whispering or shouting, screaming or murmuring but she did whatever she could. Her fists smashed into his nose and near his eyes, she wanted his eyes to water so he was blinded with pain and had no choice but to let her go.

Her body stumbled backwards when his rough touch let her go and she jolted around and bolted across the pavement and stumbled through the open doors of the fire house.

A shrill scream left (Y/n)'s lips when fingers curled in the scruff of her ponytail and yanked her head backwards with force.

Power (Y/n) didn't know she had jolted through her like electricity and in one swift motion, she spun on her heels and launched her bag out. Her fingers dug into the leather strap of her handbag deep enough to start cutting through the material and she whacked it down roughly on the side of the man's head.

With her phone, purse, keys and a lot of other loose items in her bag, it became a very useful, heavy weapon and (Y/n) slammed it down against the man's shoulder and then into his chest until he stumbled down to his knees. She wished there was a glass door nearby that she could have thrown him into to show him what it felt like to be sliced to ribbons and knocked unconscious by brute force.

She coiled her arm back, ready to send another devastating blow against her attacker's head before a body moved in front of him and hands were being held out towards her.

Bobby.

She stopped in her tracks, chest heaving and tears pouring down her face when Bobby shook his head and kept his arms out towards her to stop her. He had no idea what was going on or why she was suddenly fighting with someone, but he needed her to stop. He could see the state she was in and he had seen the strange man grab her so he knew (Y/n) had every right to defend herself, but she was safe now.

They would take care of whoever this person was.

Panic ransacked Bobby's entire being when (Y/n) finally stopped screaming and instead moved her hand. He only knew the basic signs for sign language, he was still trying to learn more to communicate with her. Evan was like a son to him and therefore Bobby wanted to get to know (Y/n) as well.

"I need some help down here!"

(Y/n)'s hand started to move but Bobby didn't know what she was doing. She pushed her palm away from her, pulling her hand back and forth like she was pushing an invisible door. Before she pointed her index finger and tilted her hand back and forth rapidly. It was the only thing she was signing and Bobby didn't understand.

"(Y/n)?! (Y/n) what's wrong? Jesus baby what are you doing?!" Words flew past Evan's lips and his hand repeatedly pressed against his chin with his thumb and pinky stuck out, trying to ask what was wrong. He heard her screams from upstairs and her text had scared the living daylights out of him.

Evan held both arms out and as swift as anything, he clamped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and lifted her off her feet before she could swing her bag down on the stranger again. His hands dug into her waist and her arm got pinned against his chest when he swiftly carried her a few feet away towards the middle of the station floor.

He could feel her nails piercing down into his exposed arm and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. His eyes frantically looked over at Bobby, wide and full of panic as he leaned over, pressing his chest into (Y/n)'s side and back to stop her fighting to get out of his hold.

Evan jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder but relief burned in his eyes when he realised it was only Eddie.

"What the fuck's going on?"

Eddie clamped one hand down on Evan's shoulder and moved the other to grip (Y/n)'s arm when she finally stopped writhing around in Evan's grip so he could let her go. He moved to stand in front of her but anger burned bright in Evan's eyes when he looked down at (Y/n)'s hand to see what she was trying to sign.

It's him.

A sudden breathlessness came over (Y/n) and she found herself latching her hands onto Eddie's forearm as her knees caved. Her back fell into his chest and his arms swooped around her middle, coiling her into him as he lowered them both down to the floor. Eddie knelt behind her, pulling (Y/n) flush into his chest as he kissed the top of her head, unsure what was going on.

But he started to piece everything together when he noticed Evan's hands were curled up into tight fists at his sides and his whole body was trembling.

"Buck, no-"

"I'll kill him! I'll kill the fucker he's attacked her again!"

(Y/n) shuddered in Eddie's arms when Evan bolted from their side. Her head turned to the side and she pushed herself further into Eddie's embrace, burying her face against his arm so she didn't have to watch. She could feel his lips smothering the back of her head and his hand started to flutter up and down her arm to try and calm her down but he too was starting to tremble.

"Buck don't! It's not worth it," Hen and Chimney rushed forward, both of them struggling to hold Evan back while Bobby kept hold of the man so he didn't manage an escape trick.

"Buck you're not helping." Eddie spoke through gritted teeth and he glared up at his partner before motioning to their girl wrapped up in his arms.

Evan wasn't doing (Y/n) any favours by attacking the man in broad daylight because he would get himself into trouble and they didn't need to give the man any reasons to get away with what he'd done.

Anger continued to bubble up through the pit of Evan's stomach and rattle throughout his body. But he wrenched his arms free from Hen and Chimney's hold, shaking them off so he could collapse down on his knees in front of his partners. His hands smoothed up and down (Y/n)'s thighs before he gingerly reached for her hand and gently uncurled her hand from Eddie's arm so he could lay her arm stretched out over his lap.

Two stitches had been torn from her arm and blood was trickling down towards her elbow and a few splatters were dribbled near her wrist and her hand. The bandage was hanging loosely around her elbow so Evan carefully started to wind it back around her arm. The continuous, slow motion calmed down one of the many nerves raging free within Evan and he pinned the bandage back in place. It would do until they could get her to hospital to redo the stitches again and check the wound was alright.

Evan gently brushed his thumb over the back of (Y/n)'s hand while he inspected her palm that was bloody and covered in scrapes and grit and specks of dirt.

"He's not getting away with this." He kept his head tilted down so (Y/n) couldn't see what he was saying just in case he spoke again before he could think better of it. But he knew Eddie heard him when Eddie started to sway (Y/n) back and forth with his lips still pressed against her head and his arms tense around her frame.

If Eddie didn't continue to hold (Y/n) like this, the team would be pinning him to the floor so he didn't go and attack whoever it was that was going to be arrested in a few minutes.

They were going to make sure he regretted everything he had done to their girl.

[liver-f4ilure]

The Charleston Church Shooting: Dylann Roof

*NOTE! This is a repost! And it will look familiar CAUSE IVE POSTED IT ON ANOTHER ACCOUNT!! Is it the best? No.*

—

Early life/ Prior convictions

Dylann was born April 3rd 1994 to mother Amelia and father Franklin with 2 sisters Amber and Morgan. During early childhood his parents would divorce and his father would later remarry. His stepmother accused his father of abuse. He would beg his step mother to let him live with her but she wasn’t able to. Dylann would be described to have obsessive compulsive tendencies with germs. In middle school he would stop caring about school and started smoking weed and drinking vodka. In nine years he would have attended seven schools. In 2010 he would drop out of Highschool and continue playing video games and smoking weed and drinking.

(The Roofs home)

In 2015 he was caught with an invalid prescription for suboxone at a mall to which he was banned from for a year. Later that year he was caught loitering in the mall to which they searched his car finding a forearm grip for a AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and six unloaded magazines capable of holding 40 rounds each but was let off it was legal in the state. Roofs Suboxone charge was mishandled and a system error took it as a misdemeanour instead of a felony. Which would have possibly prohibited him from purchasing the firearm.

(The flag of Rhodesia)

Later Dylann would look into the Trayvon Martin case and from an unknown article concluded Zimmerman was in the right. He then fell down a rabbit hole of black on white crime and misinformation. He then found 4chan and would find even more misinformation and hard right ideologies Dylann states he hasn’t been the same since that day. Which leads to his manifesto titled ‘The last Rhodesian’ Rhodesia being the African state founded in 1965 ran by primary Europeans and a white supremacy ideology before being abolished in 1979. The term now sticks with white supremac!sts like Dylann had became, as he also used the flag on his jacket. In preparation before the attack he looked up black churches and found the Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church and would scout the area and ask around about mass times.

The shooting

(The Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church)

June 15th 2015 somewhere around 8:00pm Dylann entered the church, once he did he was greeted by Rev.Pinckney and given a bible to study with. Roof was sat next to Pinckney as the study continued. As the study closed and the ending pray started Roof stood up and pulled out his Glock 41 .45 calibre handgun and began shooting. Killing Pinckney first. Then 26 year old Tywanza Sanders stood up to plead with Dylann before he said ‘I have to do it. You rape our women and you’re taking over our country and you have to go’ he then shot and k!lled Sharonda Singleton, Dr. Daniel L. Simmons, Ethel Lee Lance, Cynthia Hurd, Myra Tompson and Tywanza Sanders. Dylann would reload 5 times that day. Polly Shepherd was spared when he asked her if he shot her yet to which she replied no he then told her ‘good cause we need someone to survive because I’m gonna shoot myself and you’ll be the only survivor. He then turned the gun on himself realizing he was out of ammo. He then left the church to the surprise there wasn’t anyone outside. The next day the police confirmed the gunman was 21 year old Dylann Roof with witnesses reporting they saw him drive towards Shelby, a town close to Charleston. At 10:44am Roof was arrested at a traffic stop in Shelby where it was then confirmed he worked alone.

(The victims)

The Trial

Five days after the shooting the grand jury announced that Roof was being indicted for 33 federal charges.

12 counts hate crime against black people

12 counts obstructing the exercise of religion

9 counts murder using a firearm.

On June 6th Roof reportedly did not want to be trialed by jury and instead let the judge decide if he was guilty and if the death penalty was reasonable. August 23rd Roofs lawyers called the motion of death penalty unconstitutional and asked to reject the motion. On September 1st an on camera hearing was held in case of outbursts. December 7th 2016 the trial started. During a survivor statement Roofs mom collapsed as she had a heart attack. After 3 days of the trial FBI played a video on which he admitted to laughing and drinking while describing to friends how he’d shoot the church. To which his friend didn’t report to police and said he was drunk and took his keys and Glock that was on him. After 2 hours the jury found him guilty on all 33 charges. Roof wanting to plead guilty but told not to by lawyers.

(Roof at his video hearing)

January 10th 2017 Roof was sentenced to the death penalty,death by lethal injection.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Hangover (Pietro Maximoff First Kiss Drabble)

Word Count: 1592

Notes: Slight college AU.

---

Your head was pounding. The curtains weren’t thick enough to keep out the morning light. You shielded your eyes, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

This was not your bed. Still, the sheets smelt strangely familiar. You sat up, and a wave of nausea almost pushed you back down. You fought it, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and sitting upright.

There was a sealed bottle of water on the nightstand. A blister pack of aspirin. You cracked open the water bottle and drank it down greedily, and then threw back two of the pills.

To your relief, as hangovers went, this wasn’t one of the worst ones. You were sweaty and your head hurt, but aside from the initial rush of nausea, you didn’t think you were going to throw up.

You still didn’t recognise where you were. Your phone was on the nightstand too, plugged into a charger that wasn’t yours. You were pleased to see that it was at 100% battery. That was one less thing to worry about.

Bracing yourself, you pulled back the curtains. Light flooded in, and you covered your eyes with your forearm, pain flaring in your brain. Your lashes were stuck together with sleep, and your breath tasted foul.

Finishing off the last of the water in the bottle, you let your eyes adjust to the new brightness in the room. It wasn’t so bad now that your throat no longer felt so dry.

You took an inventory of yourself. Your phone was accounted for. After a quick search, you found the small bag you’d taken out last night, and in it were your wallet and keys.

Aside from your headache, you were physically okay. You were still dressed in the jeans and nice top you’d worn out, although the jeans were unbuttoned. There were no injuries that you could feel, which was honestly miraculous, because you were very clumsy when you were drunk.

You were even still wearing your bra. The underwire was digging into your ribcage uncomfortably. You must’ve been pretty drunk to not feel the discomfort last night.

Your shoes were beside the bed, socks stuffed inside them. Standing up, you shoved all of your possessions back into your bag and then picked up your shoes.

The bedroom was small, with a double bed pushed into the corner under the window, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There was no other furniture.

In the opposite corner, there was a barbell, weights stacked into a haphazard pile. The desk was a little messy, and there was a stack of clothes on the desk chair. On the shelf above the desk were a handful of sports trophies. The room looked as though it had been tidied very hurriedly.

As you reached the door, your heart stuttered. Pinned up next the door were a collection of photographs. There were a few of people that you didn’t recognise, and some of people that you did. Nat, Clint, Bruce. Group shots of people partying and having fun. You were even in a few of them.

But the person in by far the most pictures was Wanda Maximoff. You had a few classes with her, so you had become fast friends at the beginning of the year. There were photobooth photos of her with her twin brother, Pietro, as well as pictures from childhood. There were pictures of the two of them with people you could only assume were their parents.

It was suddenly very clear to you that you were in Pietro’s room. The photos, the exercise equipment, the trophies; it all made sense.

You felt your stomach churning, and for a moment you thought you might actually throw up. Had you humiliated yourself in front of Pietro last night? Had he taken you home, put you to sleep in his bed? Your chest hurt.

You’d been out at the club last night, celebrating the end of exams. Wanda and Pietro had both been there, as had a few of your other friends. Pietro always made you nervous, with his handsome face and his flirtatious attitude. He never seemed to take anything seriously.

You had drank in the hopes that you would feel less nervous around him. Evidently you had overdone it.

You opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Now you recognised your surroundings. You’d never been in Pietro’s bedroom before but you had been in his and Wanda’s apartment.

Thankfully, the bathroom was just across the hall. You darted into and locked the door behind you, breathing hard. If you were going to face Pietro, you needed to look presentable.

After using the toilet, you took stock of yourself in the mirror. Your make-up was smeared and you were looking worse for wear.

You stole some toothpaste and brushed your teeth with a finger. You also took some mouthwash, rinsing until the rancid taste was gone from your mouth.

Next you moved on to washing your face. There were some make-up removal wipes – Wanda’s, you assumed – which you used to try to remove your eye make-up.

You weren’t able to get it all off, but the effect made your lashes a little darker, traces of mascara clinging to them. It looked fine, so you splashed some water on your armpits and tried to make your hair look vaguely presentable.

When you were done, you stole a couple of sprays of deodorant. You could tell from the smell that it was Pietro’s. It was the same scent that engulfed you every time he hugged you, leaving you a little breathless. You hoped that he wouldn’t mind you using it.

Finally, you were as put-together as you were going to look without actually taking a shower – you might’ve been stealing toiletries but you drew the line at using someone else’s shower without asking – so you begrudgingly left the safety of the bathroom.

Down the hall, you found the open-plan kitchen-living room. A pair of socked feet were resting over the arm of the couch. You could hear quiet, steady breathing. Someone was sleeping on the couch.

As quietly as you could, you made your way to the front door. Your hand was on the handle when a sleepy voice interrupted you.

“Where are you going?” It was Pietro.

You turned to face him guiltily. He was lying on the couch, pushing himself up onto his elbow. His eyes were bleary. He looked very cute.

“Home,” you said. “Sorry for kicking you out of your bed. You didn’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“I wasn’t going to make you sleep on the couch,” he said, sitting up. “You don’t have to leave right now. It’s still early. I was gonna make breakfast.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you said, although the thought of breakfast had certainly piqued your interest. Perhaps you could grab a sandwich on the way home.

“I know I don’t have to,” he said, sounding a little annoyed. “I’m not being nice because I have to. I’m doing it because I want to.” He got to his feet. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and you had to stop your eyes from tracing the line of his hipbones. “Come on. What do you want to eat? Eggs? Toast? Cereal? Pancakes?”

“I like pancakes,” you said, a little shy.

“I’m making you pancakes, then.”

You followed him to the kitchenette, feeling embarrassed, but also grateful. As he started to mix up the pancake batter, you said, “Thank you for looking after me last night. I must’ve been a mess.”

“It was nothing,” he grunted. “What kind of man would I be if I left you alone like that? I had to make sure you were safe.”

“Thank you…” And then, because you were feeling bolder than usual – perhaps you were still a little drunk? – you said, “It was your fault I was so drunk, anyway.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Is that right?”

“Talking to you makes me nervous. I wanted to be brave.”

He set down his whisk and turned to face you. “That’s funny. I was feeling the same way. I was thinking about kissing you last night but then you were too shitfaced.”

“I’m not shitfaced now.”

“That’s true.”

He closed the distance between you and cupped your face in one hand. You could feel the strength of his hand holding you in place, and a shiver went down your spine.

“Do you still wanna kiss me? Or did I ruin it last night?” you asked.

He chuckled. “You’re an idiot if you think that there’s anything you could do to make me not want to kiss you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

His lips were a little dry when they touched yours. His free hand fell to your waist, and he turned his head to kiss you deeper. You tried to slide your tongue into his mouth but he stopped you.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he said, and you let out a groan of frustration.

“I don’t care,” you said, touching his cheek. His stubble was rough against your skin.

He kissed you again. You held onto him, sliding your hand into his messy curls.

“The pancakes can wait,” you murmured. “Maybe we should go back to bed for a little while? I do feel awfully bad about turfing you out of your own bed.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me,” he said, smiling against your lips.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @mcximffs @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @starmansirius @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout @idkman5335

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[ghostlysoaps]

What comes a'knocking in the night

[part 1]

Ghost sleeps in rare moments. It had never come easy to him when the act of it invites vulnerability, leaves him open to being taken advantage of, and rarely offers the relief it should. But the safehouse outside of Las Almas is… fine. The core of the one-four-one is there. Mostly familiar faces outside of them. Structures mapped out and vetted. He could, without a shadow of a doubt, disappear in the rafters should the situation call for it.

And still he wakes in lung-crushing terror.

In his disoriented state he thinks, with choked-back laughter bordering on hysterics, that he might have come to awareness with a rusted hook between the ribs again. The pain is acute, sharp, all-consuming; rooted to his heart the way the scent of sunbaked dust clings to his stowed gear. He flings the covers off himself, scrambling to his feet with a wild look around the spartan room.

He’s alone. Safe. Alive against all odds.

Ghost feels over the concrete until its chill bleeds into his palms and the rough texture scrapes his skin in pink swaths.

There’s no blood on them.

There’s too much blood to wash out and it partially belongs to his team.

To Johnny.

His next breath punches out of him and he keens. Desperate to rid himself off the image of porous sand swallowing blood like a gaping maw, of laughing eyes dulled, lips stilled, a body unmoving and yet dogging his every step, he pivots from the closed curtains to the entrance of his minuscule quarters – determined to exchange one set of discomfort for another.

The judgement he’ll find reflected in the mirror, the accusatory anger and disgust, means a scalding shower is out of the question. Running isn't in the cards given the situation they’re in. Venting his frustrations out in the small corner dedicated to exercise – until there’s a valid reason for his breaths to come in ragged gasps, mask clinging to his lips with perspiration – now that’s something he can do. Push himself to the edge and beyond in an attempt to regain some sense of equilibrium. It’s not punishment, he reasons, if it’ll help him sleep through the night. Not when he’ll need every ounce of energy in the morning.

Destination in mind, Ghost flees the remnants of memories and glides down the halls the way his namesake suggests.

The door he finds himself at swings open under the loving attention of thin metal. He hesitates for less than a second before he steps inside. It’s a familiar sight. A tiny, concrete box containing a bolted shelf for unused gear and a single bed. The tangled sheets rise and fall with the motion of breaths and Ghost creeps forward to crouch by the headboard, eyes roving over the body within it.

Safe and sound. Mouth lax, drooling into the pillow he’s jammed half his face into, generating heat like a damn furnace. If Ghost had possessed less sense than he does, he’d reach out and brush the over-long strands of hair from his forehead, feel his sleep-warm skin to truly hammer home that Johnny, despite his tendency for recklessness, is alive and well.

Having him close settles the last vestige of panic hammering behind his ribcage.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there before Johnny stirs. All scrunched nose and flicking ears and fluttering lashes as he drowsily blinks his eyes open. A moment of incomprehension passes before he jerks upward. Ghost makes the split-second decision to slap a hand over his mouth, stifling his yell into a muffled thing. Claws bite into his forearm and under his palm Soap’s lips part in a rumbling growl, the bones of his face beginning to shift.

“Settle down.”

Johnny goes rigid at the sound of his voice, eyes narrow, and he spitefully digs his claws in deeper when he wrenches Ghost’s hand off his face.

“Settle doon?!” he hisses through too-large teeth. “Damn near gave me a heart attack ‘n ye want me t’ simmer. Un-fuckin’-believable, sir.”

“Your spacial awareness is shite.”

“I was sleeping!” Soap snaps his teeth in irritation, jerking forward to do so an inch from Ghost's face. But despite the rude awakening, the way he looks as if taking a pound of flesh is still in the cards, he relaxes. The show of trust, subconscious as it is, sinks in Ghost's stomach like lead. There's no time to beat himself up over it because Soap tenses again and casts a weary eye towards the exits. “Are we–?”

“No.”

“Why're ye ‘ear then?”

“Couldn't sleep.”

“So ye decided I coudnae either?”

Ghost shrugs.

Soap groans, long and low, flopping down on his back. He scrubs both hands down his face, leaves them there for a moment, then lowers them to blink tiredly at the ceiling. It’s… not great. Guilt threatens to choke him when he realises just how exhausted Soap looks. The dark circles beneath his eyes, the lines slowly etching themselves onto his face, the stark bandaging around his bicep hiding a wound Ghost knows for sure isn’t all the way healed. Stupid of him, to think his needs above that of his sergeant’s.

“Ye cannae keep doing this, Lt.”

“Breaking into your room?”

Soap’s face scrunches together in a rather unattractive manner. His jaw twitches, no doubt chewing on whether or not to ask if he’s done so before, but what he ultimately ends up with is: “This hot ‘n cold act you’ve got goin’. It needs to stop. I cannae–” he breaks off with a huff. “I need to know where I stand wit’ ye before I do something stupid like deciding yer pack.” He turns to look at Ghost again, lips twisted into a bitter smile. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know.” It’s all strings, tangled together into an unravelable mess, the emotions he can’t put a name to nestled amongst the ones he knows more intimately than the violence his hands are capable of. “I want to carve open your ribcage.”

Perhaps he leaves out the part of wishing to curl up in there, wrap himself around Johnny’s spine and stay until he couldn’t remember what hurting felt like. He wasn’t made for this. To want. Not unless it came alongside gallons of blood and the bite of steel into flesh. Whatever this budding thing between them is, it’s not all thorns, and that scares him to death.

“A’right,” Johnny says, drawing the word out long, sounding a lot less perturbed at the prospect than any sane man should. “What’s stopped you?”

Ghost shrugs again. “I’ve needed you up until now.”

“Nah.” Soap stretches lazily, like he hasn't a care in the world, and tucks himself right into Ghost’s personal space. “Could’ve left me in Las Almas, no questions asked. Instead ye compromised yerself to get me out o’ there in… mostly one piece.”

“Maybe I want to be the one to do it.”

“Again,” Johnny drawls, “what’s stopping ye?”

Ghost says nothing.

“See, this is what I mean.” Soap punctuates his statement with a snort, an insufferable smirk dawning in the wake of it. “You threaten to kill me, but you like me alive. Leave me to fend for myself, though no one fights alone. Shoots my look-alike without a moment's hesitation but sneaks into my room the very same night.” He taps a clawed fingertip to the hardshell of Ghost's mask after every sentence, thawing a tad when the last one causes him to flinch. “Would it be so bad, trusting someone?”

“Yes.”

“Do it anyway.”

No, would be the correct response, contrarian and truthful. Ghost swipes a thumb over Soap’s cheekbone, stares at his hopelessly earnest expression while mulling words and experiences over. Knows he's too far gone already. Tries to make himself believe that Johnny isn't, and if they're lucky, that'll be enough to save him.

“I’ll try,” he murmurs and the grin he’s awarded with nearly makes the terror worth it.

[w0rmfreak]

Scene Writing?

okay so I did this thing with my partner and I wanna write it out fully bc I NEED to relive it. It was so much fun.

Two siblings who bicker back and forth all the time. They love each other obviously, as much as siblings should at least.

I texted him earlier to bring home some pineapple after work. It’s my favourite after all, and he was usually nice enough to bring some. Checking my phone to find a thumbs up reaction from him. Sweet little treat from big bro. Great, because we planned on going to the gym together after we both got off our jobs anways.

I’m home, and he opens the door to find me all ready in my gym clothes.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Huh? I’m wearing clothes for the gym? Shorts, sports bra and hoodie.”

“You look like a whore.”

Ugh. Gross. He was always the worst.

We go work out together, He proposed we did legs, so I followed. Big bro always shows me how to do and exercise before I do it, and this time we started with hip thrusts.

By no means was my brother unattractive. I tease him all the time for not getting a girlfriend because I know it’s his personality that keeps it from happening. But something about watching him made my insides feel warm. He was big. My big brother is so strong. And watching his hips slam upwards like that was driving some part of my brain crazy.

It was a short day, and we headed home. Unfortunately we have to share a room. Even less fortunately, it was my turn to sleep on the futon tonight.

I munch on the pineapple and lay on the futon, watching youtube on the TV while he plays his games with his friends and hits his pen profusely. He’s fucking loud and keeps yelling or saying weird things with his friends. Guy talk i guess. No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend, who else could ever live with this?

He finally shuts the game off and crawls into bed.

“Hey, you can come over here if you wanna watch something together.”

I hesitate. He’s being nice to me, which is rare.

I hop up onto the bed. He’s under the duvet and i’m on top of it, underneath the blankets I brought from the futon. It’s cold. I’m so fucking cold. I shift and curl up as much as I can and it still does nothing for me.

“Can I turn off the fan? It’s cold as shit in here.”

“Just get under the blanket?”

I begrudgingly get under it, and his body warmth is so nice. His feet are warm and his hands are warm. Oh my god it’s so cozy in here. I move closer towards him, my head practically on his shoulder.

“Sorry, i’m just really cold and you’re really warm.”

He shrugs his shoulders, pulling an arm out and laying is across my chest. “It’s fine, but would you mind kinda squeezing my arm? I hurt it at the gym.”

We’re cozy, we’re cuddly, why would I say no? I gently start up by his shoulder, making my way down his biceps and forearm, going as far as to massage his palms and finger tips. I’m just being a good sister. I’m just doing him a favour since he let me crawl into bed and warm up.

His arms are so big, and his hand is resting on my lower stomach. He lets out a deep sigh and covers his eyes with his other hand.

“fuck. I am so high.”

I turn to look at him, and he looks so soft and tired. I’m cuddled up against him now, my arms wrapped around his bicep, my right leg laying across his body.

“are you gonna be good?”

“Yeah, I probably just need to sleep.”

We’re lay still, 5 maybe 10 minutes pass by before something jumps against my leg. I ignore it. Until it happens again… and again… and again.

“What the fuck is that?”

“What the fuck is what?” he says sleepily, just as i feel something bump my leg again.

“THAT!” I shift my leg off before he speaks again

“That’s my dick-“

“You have a boner!? Why?”

“Well when you’re rubbing up on me all like that it’s gonna happen.”

“I wasn’t rubbing up on you!! Just- ugh! Nevermind. Just… make it go away so I can sleep.”

I turn away from him and shut my eyes. Within a few seconds I hear a grunt and feel him shifting around.

“What the hell are you-“ I’m cut off by the sight that greets me once I turn around.

My brother. My big brother. Dick in hand looks at me.

“You told me to fix it. I’m fixing it.”

“You can’t just… I dunno… turn it off!?”

“No, I can’t turn it off. Dumbass.”

I can’t help but look at it. The lights are low so I can barely make out the shapes, but I know it’s big. Seeing his hand wrapped around his dick drives me up the wall. I want that to be my hand.

What? No I don’t! I’ve never even touched a dick before. Let alone see one!!

He can feel my staring.

“Do you wanna help?”

My body freezes. Help? Help what? Help my big brother get off?

“I-… as long as it means that it won’t be bothering me when I’m trying to go to bed.” I snapped, looking down at the length before me.

“what… what do I do?”

he guides my hand down, I’m touching his shaft and the skin is surprisingly… soft.

“play with it.” I hear him say, letting go of my hand, and placing his hands behind his head.

I do just that. Softly running my fingers up and down his length, gently massaging his sticky tip. I earn a few hitches in his breath and the occasional groan before deciding to try a little more. I mean, I’m here to get him off as fast as I can, and this clearly isn’t working.

I spit on my hand, and slowly stroke it, his leg twitches before speaking to me “Go faster.” and I obey. I start moving my hand up and down faster and faster until i feel a push against my head. “Give your brother a kiss, yeah?” and I look as I’m faced with his shiny slick member right in front of my face. I hesitantly kiss the tip. It’s so soft on my lips… I kiss it again. And again. I give it a lick and before I know it, his hand is on the back of my head pushing me down to the base. I try to cough and gag but it’s no use, He just keeps face fucking me.

I’m eventually pulled up and he sits up. Before I can get a word out, he speaks. “This isn’t working. Lay down.” And I do what he asks. I’m just… doing my big brother a favour.

I feel him pulling at my shorts and panties. I’m shaking. I’ve never had sex before, and now my first experience is with my brother of all people? Maybe it’s not so bad… I know he wouldn’t do anything to truly hurt me, besides, we’re siblings!

“Are you okay?” he asks, lining himself up with me. I’m absolutely soaked, my pussy is all wet just from touching my big brother. I hope he doesn’t think that it’s HIM that turns me on… I nod at him softly “i’m ready…” I whisper.

I feel the tip enter, and then more, and then even more. It hurts. I feel my insides being stretched out. But he’s so warm… so, so warm.

He moves. Gently at first. In and out at a slow, manageable pace, but he keeps saying these gross things while he fucks me gently.

“You like your big brother’s cock huh?”

“My baby sis is so tight for me.”

and every word that slips from his lips makes my stomach feel like it’s doing back flips.

Oh my god my stomach.

It feels so warm, like there’s a burning knot in my abdomen.

“My- my tummy feels funny-“

“That’s okay, that’s a good thing baby sis.”

I nod as the knot feels like it grows tighter and tighter.

Something snaps in me. My back arches and my toes curl, my legs squeeze him and I can’t help but to let out all sorts of icky pleasurable sounds.

“Ah- fuck- there you go.” he says, pulling out of me and pressing a thumb on my chin, forcing my mouth open. Before I even realized what happened there was this slimy stuff all in my mouth. My big brother’s cum in my mouth. I don’t want to spit it, there’s not really much reason to… is there? I look up at him and swallow before he pulls me close to him under the covers.

“Now maybe you can sleep comfortably.” He whispered in my ear.

[mlmxreader]

Big Boy | König x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Ooohhh König with a short boyfriend? Someone jokingly asks about the height difference and his bf says “I have to climb him like a damn tree every time I want a kiss, it’s annoying.” And König’s like “you can ask me to bend down, you know.” “Nah, you’re my personal jungle gym.”

summary: König loves his pilot boyfriend, even if he is a bit of a pain.

tws: swearing, smoking

König was a lot taller than you, and although you did love him ever so dearly, you had to admit: it could be a pain in the backside and a half to be physically affectionate sometimes. But you made it work, and although some of your fellow pilots in the RAF did tease you for it, it was all in good nature and was not anything other than banter.

Often, when you were off of work for a while König would come home with only one thing in mind: cuddling you; he loved how you seemed to fit so well in his embrace, your head on his chest as he laid a large hand between your shoulders and an arm around your waist while some old song by Sodom or Slayer played quietly, too tired and worn out to talk, too overwhelmed with seeing you at last to even consider opening his mouth, he always kissed you too much for that.

But his favourite thing by far was when he would come to the air field; he loved to watch you land your plane - the Red Kite - while Perveen, Bashar, Pahwa and Cohen landed behind - their planes being the Golden Eagle, Peregrine Falcon, Red Tailed Hawk and Bearded Vulture respectively. What made König love it so much though was not the planes themselves or how they were painted to look like the birds they were named after, but it was how you reacted to seeing him stood on the tarmac.

Without fail, he would bring a thermos of your favourite coffee and would have two cigarettes ready to be smoked; when you first became his boyfriend, you said once that you loved a coffee and a smoke when you landed, and König never forgot.

He was dressed down as he stood on the tarmac, a camo print hoodie in dark green and trousers of the same, but sporting a bright orange beanie hat. If he remembered correctly, you had gotten that hat for him for his birthday as a present a few months after you first started dating, the thought of which made him smile as he felt the rain gently tap, a warning that it was about to start pouring.

Although it was going to be awful, the weather was actually on König's side, as it had meant an early return for the pilots who had been out on a training exercise, it meant his boyfriend would return early.

He watched the Red Kite eagerly, and when it came to a full stop and you climbed out, he grinned.

"Ah, fuck! Shit! Shit! Fucking shit! Why'd it have to fucking rain right as I fucking-" your little rant of complaints came to a halt when you saw König.

A grin spread across your features, and you quickly made your way towards him, running until you crashed right into his body, pressing your face against him as you tightly held onto him. "Hi, Maus."

König eagerly returned the embrace as he smiled. "Hallo, mein geliebter... bist du gut?"

You nodded. "Now I got you, yeah... ich bin sehr gut... und du?"

"Ich bin super," he admitted, unable to stop grinning as he held you tightly. "Wie war dein Flug?"

You shrugged. "Okay... fuck, I missed you."

He gently pulled back, and when you jumped into his arms to kiss him, he couldn't help but to laugh softly; kissing you back eagerly before he gently set you down again, resting his forearm on your head.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Parveen called, grinning from ear to ear. "How'd you kiss him?"

You shrugged, waiting for him to get closer before you dared to answer, "how'd you think? I have to climb him like a damn tree every time I want a kiss, it's annoying as fuck, mate."

König looked down at you for a moment, his brows furrowing. "You can ask me to bend down, you know, Bärchen."

Gently, you tapped his stomach as you shook your head. "Nah, you're my personal jungle gym... besides, it's like a positive reinforcement thing."

He cocked his brow, trying not to smile as he let his hand slip to your shoulders, resting between them as he slowly moved his thumb up and down, letting you lean into him. "You could still ask me to Kuss you."

"I'd rather not," you shook your head, licking your lips as you smiled. "It's more fun this way."

"Why don't you just punch him in the stomach?" Perveen jokingly asked. "That'll make him bend down."

König glared at the Squadron Leader. "Don't encourage him, bitte."

You were about to open your mouth, let off some smart ass comment, when König shoved his hand into his pocket, and gave you a cigarette and a lighter; he bent down, picked up the thermos, and held it out for you, doing his best not to smile when you eagerly lit up your cigarette and held it between your lips as you opened the thermos and let the stench of coffee hit you.

Sure, you could be a pain, you could be a nightmare, but König adored you, and he honestly couldn't wait until he had you back home; he couldn't wait to feel you in his embrace and to hold you so tightly, bouncing on his heels slightly as he waited for you to smoke your cigarette and drink your coffee. He knew you loved and needed it.

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