#stop making the TOs hate their lives

[slicksquid]

time and time again competitive splatoon players knowingly ignore the rules and lose their fucking minds when they face the consequences of not following the rules

[edenesth]

[7:29 PM]

Stumbling into the shared apartment with Yeosang, you swiftly covered your mouth to suppress any whimpers upon seeing your boyfriend peacefully napping on the living room couch.

After carefully placing your heels by the shoe rack, you quietly tip-toed past his slumbering figure and slipped into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you with utmost care to ensure he wasn't disturbed from his much-needed rest.

It was only upon reaching the sanctuary of your room that you collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your injured arm close. It had been a horrible day, marked by a minor accident at work amidst ongoing tensions with your boss and difficult encounters with customers. Throughout the day, you struggled to keep yourself together, merely waiting for this moment to release all pent-up emotions.

As you sobbed into your pillows, the door to the room creaked open, causing you to panic. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself.

"Darling, you're back already? Why didn't you come say hi to me first, hm? I've been waiting," Yeosang's voice greeted you as he entered the cosy space, "You know you could've just woken me up..."

His words trailed off as he noticed your bandaged arm and tear-stained cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, Yeo, it's just—" You couldn't stop the sobs escaping your lips at the sight of his concerned expression, cursing yourself internally for being such a crybaby.

Hearing your anguished cries, his heart clenched, and he swiftly moved to join you on the bed. He pulled you close, showering your head with tender kisses, "Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened to your arm? Are you alright? Please, talk to me, darling."

Your sobs only grew stronger in response to his care. Nestling your head against his neck, you stuttered out, "One of my c-colleagues didn't see me approaching and accidentally s-swung her envelope opener toward me. I tried to shield myself with my arm, and that's how..." You gestured to your injured arm, feeling miserable.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked you up from work if I had known you were hurt. And don't try to hide it from me; I know that can't be the only reason you're upset." He whispered, his lips gently pressing against your temple as he offered a comforting squeeze, careful not to worsen the pain in your arm.

The following words that left your lips broke his heart, "I d-didn't want to burden you with something so trivial, Yeo. You're already s-so busy; my work troubles must seem insignificant compared to yours."

Drawing back a bit, he cupped your face, meeting your tear-filled gaze, "What did I tell you about thinking like that? Your problems, no matter how minor you think they are, bother me if they bother you. I never want you to keep things from me again, understand? Promise me you'll always come to me first, no matter what."

He couldn't help but chuckle when your only response to that was an adorable wail, finding your vulnerability endearing as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder once more, "Y-you're the best boyfriend ever, Yeo. I l-love you so much."

Placing a gentle kiss against your hair, he grinned softly, "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine. Now, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened at your workplace today. I'm not usually one for aggression, but I won't hesitate to deal with anyone who dared make you cry."

With a light giggle, you pulled away slightly, "Oh, you wouldn't, you little Maltese."

You squealed as he playfully tackled you onto the bed, glad to see you lightening up and teasing again as he leaned in for a firm kiss.

"A Maltese, huh? I'll show you a Doberman."

ATEEZ Masterlist

This was super self-indulgent. I had a horrible day and ended up getting hurt in a rather similar fashion yesterday. Also wanted to show Yeosang some love after all the hate he's received for his role in my current Seonghwa series HAHA

Speaking of which, part 14 of The Way to His Heart should be out by this weekend! Hang in there, my lovelies! As always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[daizedndconfused]

do you have any cole relationship headcanons? hope your schoolwork is going smoothly :D

a/n: do i have cole relationship head cannons?? buckle up my friend home girl has got ideas to share. hahaha also tysmm (can you tell i hate school lmao) i’m struggling out here fr 😭 one more week and i’m free!!! btw—last one is slightly suggestive. sooo barely but still.

cole relationship headcannons

one of his love languages is 100% quality time. he doesn’t care what you’re doing tbh you don’t even have to talk to him he just likes being near you. like when he’s working out he’ll sometimes use you as a bench press usually just for fun but he wants you to feel included in his routine. or if he’s doing pushups he’ll ask you to sit on his back and help count his reps for him. lucky for you he’s trapped and therefore you can rant to him as much as you want. he loves it ofc and he’s always interested in what to have to say

he almost never sleeps without you. throughout your entire relationship you can count the days you’ve actually slept by yourself on one hand. sure the two of you will always start in your own rooms, but at some point throughout the night you’ll either migrate to his room or vice versa. youll always bid each other good night confident you’ll wake up alone the next morning, but then you feel a dip in your mattress and suddenly cole’s got his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck. oh well. maybe tomorrow night.

he’s very protective. cole’s a tall guy if you read my fics yk what i mean. he’s tall and he’s strong, one look at him can tell you that. since you guys live in the city there’s always gonna be that one creep. normally if the guy just catcalls you as you two walk by, he waits a second for you to deal with it yourself. if you decide to call the guy out he’s holding back a laugh knowing the guy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you while cole’s standing right behind you. however if you’re not confrontational like that, and you’re okay with it, he’ll say something snarky in return but neither of you stop walking. if you tell him to leave it alone and ignore the guy he will—but he'll throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you closer to him just in case.

hates scary movies. he loves you—more than life itself but he will never watch a horror movie with you. hell no. he’s scared of ghosts and everything adjacent irl he’d rather die than watch a movie about them. you always poke fun at him and call him a wuss but no matter the peer pressure—your boy is stubborn. call him a sissy all you want he does not care he will not watch insidious with you. whenever you bring up the topic he either walks away pretending to be on the phone or he kisses you until you forget about it. sometimes you joke about it just for the second option ;)

gives you cute nicknames. we’re all well aware some pet names are cringey and you gotta be strategic about them. for cole his go tos are ‘gorgeous’ ‘my gorgeous girl’ and ‘honey/hun’ seeing as they’re simple and cute. however, he has a few cheesier/sentimental ones. when he’s feeling really lovey dovey he calls you ‘sugar’ or ‘sweet thing’. most of the time he uses sweet thing as a greeting/joke. for example on your days off you’re normally up before him and will go make some breakfast for the both of you. of course, the ninja he is, he’ll sneak up behind you wrap his arms around you and go “morning sweet thing, what’s for breakfast?” you jump nearly five feet out of your skin every time and he dies laughing even as you swat at him with a dish towel

he can never find his clothes. the reason behind this is you. you steal them all the damn time. at this point you have half his wardrobe at your disposal. his clothes just fit so comfy and they smell like him and you love it. one day he was looking for one of his band tees and he quite literally looked everywhere. eventually he gave up and walked back to his room—only to find you cuddled up on his bed with one of his throw blankets, and wouldn’t you know it…wearing the shirt he’d been looking for. he’ll just roll his eyes with a love sick expression and grab a different one. he only says something when he only has like three outfits left in his closet. you reluctantly hand them over—but the secret reason behind him letting you keep them that long is because once he gets them back they smell like you. every once in a while he’ll get a whiff of your perfume still stuck to his clothes and he gets all giddy as if you two just started dating.

you guys are the parental couple. after a few months of dating—you guys were branded the parental/chill couple by the rest of the team. usually if one of your teammates were doing something dumb in your presence either you or cole would tell them to knock it off. of course they don’t listen but they will take their antics elsewhere. the two of you are so low maintenance together that every time you’re together it feels like a date—doesn’t matter what you’re doing

your sparring matches get a little heated. if the rest of the team is around you keep it professional, but on the offhand you two are alone?? it’s fair game. it’s less sparring and more verbal chirping and then maybe some added combat. before you two spar—you place a bet. it can be anything (reasonable ofc) but the first person to pin the other for three seconds wins. you two fight dirty. not in dirty hits but every time you think you’re losing, you trail your hands up his torso and kiss his neck passionately. that normally gives you a split sec of hesitation on his part and you’re able to flip him over, pinning him beneath you as you win again. he’ll pretend to hate it but you see right through him.

[xcherricutie]

➤ Messy

Vegeta x F!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count - 1.5k

Summary - Vegeta is a clean freak with anger issues and pent up emotions, and decides to take it out on you for fun.

Notes: This is my first time posting here. I am from Wattpad, so I don't know tumblr etiquette, apologies.

“Your habits are disgusting and you’re a mess.”

He would follow you around and criticize you for what felt like hours on end. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and he did it to you on purpose. He was a man on a mission, out to make your life as miserable as possible. That’s just how it was, being acquainted with the prince of all saiyans. It didn’t matter if you tried to avoid him, he would find you, and he would let you know of every flaw in your life. Almost as if he took a sick satisfaction in seeing you wallow in your own misery and insecurities. 

“Vegeta, her house is none of your business,” Bulma scolded with a harsh glare, slapping your discarded napkin out of his hand. You hadn’t had the time to clean up your living space before Bulma and Vegeta dropped by, unannounced. You didn’t mind surprise visitors, but Vegeta was an exception. Every single time he came by, which had become noticeably more frequent, you made absolutely sure that he could not find a single reason to complain or nitpick. You were simply thankful Bulma was there to keep her dog on his leash. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you forced through grit teeth with a smile, before your face relaxed as your eyes landed on Bulma. “What brings you here? You’re not one for random visits.” 

“Right, sorry,” Bulma chuckled, brushing some strands of her azure hair behind her ear, glancing over at Vegeta as he tip-toed through the specks of dirt in your carpet. Bulma rolled her eyes at the dramatic saiyan, sighing. “I need you to keep an eye on him. I don’t really trust him to be alone at Capsule Corp., and my mom and dad are out on vacation. I’ve got a big workload on my hands and can’t deal with him right now. I’ll pay you good, I promise.” 

You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell both of them to get out of your house and never come back. Babysitting Vegeta could have perhaps been Bulma’s most unreasonable request for you. He had not been on Earth for long, and yet had antagonized you more than anyone. You rarely even showed your face at Capsule Corp. anymore because of the man. And Bulma was your best friend that you visited nearly daily for years. She knew how much you hated Vegeta. 

And yet, when she pulled the wad of cash out of her pocket, you immediately found yourself agreeing to the impossible task. Bulma’s payments were usually unreasonable amounts, as if the stack of paper zenni she handed to you was less than allowance money for her. It felt wrong to take, but what could you say? You were living independently in the city - you needed any cash you could get. Even if it meant spending a day with the most annoying being in the universe. 

As soon as Bulma had left, it was not long before Vegeta started to act up. He almost acted like a prepubescent boy at times, unable to properly convey his feelings, resorting to anger to vent. You had even made a point to clean up around the house so he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, but some of the things he complained about were unreasonable. 

“The geometry of your living space is poorly designed, woman,” Vegeta commented as he stood in the midst of your living room, looking around at the furniture. You rolled your eyes as you vacuumed the carpet, tuning his voice out. 

“Nobody is stopping you from just leaving. You hate all of us, I don’t understand why you continue to torture yourself on this planet,” you muttered, unsure if he heard you over the vacuum. You didn’t care much if he did or not, barely having the energy to speak to or at him. 

“I’m waiting for Kakarot to come back to this miserable planet. But I’m starting to doubt he will,” Vegeta said as he placed his hands on his hips, searching for more things in your house to nitpick about. You had done a pretty good job hiding things for him to complain about. 

“Maybe he’s avoiding you,” you said with a smirk at the idea. You would not blame Goku one bit if he was avoiding the entire Earth because of Vegeta’s presence. Vegeta did not find your comment very funny as his head whipped to your direction, glaring harshly. 

“Then I would track him down and drag him to this miserable planet to humiliate him in front of his loved ones,” Vegeta sneered, lip raised in a slight snarl, as if the mere assumption were the most offensive thing he’d ever heard. 

“Is it really that hard to accept that somebody doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to see you? I really don’t understand you, Vegeta,” you stood up straight as you turned off the vacuum, turning to glare at him. “You antagonize people on purpose, and then get mad when everyone leaves. What do you want from us? Why won’t you just leave?” 

“My business is none of your concern, woman. I suggest you close your mouth and not utter a single sound from now on, unless you really want to see what antagonistic looks like. I could put you through a world of misery with words alone, I haven’t done anything to you yet.” Vegeta’s harsh eyes stared into your soul, as if knowing you weren’t going to listen. He had been here less than a year, and yet knew you would not stand for such nonsense. 

“This is my house! I suggest you shut up if you know what’s good for you, asshole!” You yelled, leaning closer to his face. His warm breath hit your face as he scoffed, looking down at you as if he were so high and mighty. He was barely three inches taller than you.

“I could destroy you, and this house, and this whole planet in a matter of seconds if I wished. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, human.” Vegeta smirked down at you. That was your breaking point as your hand moved on its own. Even Vegeta found himself shocked by your sudden movement as your hand left its mark across his cheek, its shape searing into his cheek. Head turned from the sudden force, Vegeta stared at you with wide eyes, as if to let his brain process the attack on him. You expected him to blow up. You needed to gain control, fast. You would rather your house remained intact by the time Bulma returned. 

“Wh-What’s with the surprised look? Didn’t think a girl could hit you? Bet you’re completely smitten, huh?” Your face lit up like a lightbulb, cheeks burning as you smirked, watching his every muscle movement. You didn’t even mean for the words to escape your lips, but as they did, you knew you were dead. “You want to kiss me so bad, huh, Vegeta?” 

You saw the blush bloom across his cheek, making your hand mark burn ever brighter. That was the first time you had ever seen an emotion other than anger or pride on his face. But the view did not last long, as you suddenly found your vision obscured, his large frame right in your face, his lips connected to yours. This was an unexpected development, to say the least. 

His touch sent lightning through your nerves as his hands uncharacteristically gently slid up your arms, gloved fingers brushing over your cheeks. His kiss was soft, as if to show you everything he had been unable to get across before, many emotions flowing through one small touch. That one small touch, however, began to grow more desperate as Vegeta grabbed your shoulders, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your scent was intoxicating, and every little jolt of electricity to his nerves sent him spiraling through his pent-up emotions even more. 

It wasn’t until your palms were pressed to his chest, trying to push him off, that he broke from his much-needed kiss. You stared up at Vegeta in surprise, watching many emotions flow through his dark pupils, before he finally came to his senses. You were pushed away, although much softer than you would have expected, his warmth pulling away from you as he left you standing there. He plopped down onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions as he crossed his arms, avoiding meeting your gaze. Your eyes stayed glued to him for a moment longer, before you let out a silent scoff, smiling in amusement. 

Vegeta had not uttered so much as a word after that. No more comments on her habits or appearance, no more jabs at her life and home. He had sat silently at her side, stealing glances at her every once in a while as she read her book in peace. And perhaps it was the cleaner environment, or just something in him beginning to bloom, but you looked much better than when he had shown up. 

And you weren’t sure if it was just the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, or if he just looked like this when he wasn’t constantly raging, but Vegeta had a different look about him, almost a glow. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.

[ellieluvr420]

Eye for an Eye Pt.1

MASTERLIST (and information about Palestine) Please read!

SYNOPSIS: Your body yearned for the touch of your girlfriend, the warm embrace that calmed your mind but you couldn't give in, the anger you harboured for her at disappearing with her group for three months without any warning, explanation or even a mention of when she would be back stopped you in your tracks any time you got close to giving in. You loved Abby so much but looking at her made you sick, you couldn't push the feelings down no matter how much you craved for things to go back to what they once were. You hadn't planned this but the anguish in those green eyes mirrored yours and sucked you in before you could think twice about the repercussions of your actions. You made your bed when you made the deal with the auburn-haired stranger, eventually you'd have to lie in it.

Okay i know the vote isn’t over yet but there is a pretty overwhelming majority so here it is! i’m sorry if this is not what u wanted but i promise friends?never is gonna still be getting regular updates, that will be prioritised until it is complete i was just too excited to not put a little something out. love u all as always xxxxxxxx

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

In and out. In and out. Focus on your breathing, focus on it to quell the pit of rage burning deep inside you. That was all you had done for weeks and even at the resolution, when everything was as it should be, still the fire burned on. In and fucking out. Your breaths got deeper, shakier, more frequent again as the weight of her sleeping peacefully by your side consumed you, it had once consumed you with love and it still did, quietly in the background, but it was now overshadowed by the screaming torment of the rage you felt when you looked at her or even felt her presence. It had been like this ever since she got back. Weeks and weeks of refused touches, unanswered questions, shameful glances, you were stuck in this loop because she kept you in the dark. But humans adapt, better than most, so you adapted to the dark, learned to sneak around in it, hunt in it, live in it. You could never leave, neither could she, you were bound cosmically, and you cursed it every day. It was a paradox; how could you love someone so much you felt like your world would burn if they weren’t in it but hate them so much you never wanted to see them again? You couldn’t make sense of it, she’d come to understand your feelings but she was blissfully ignorant to how the swarm of indifference surged through your mind and clamped down on your heart.

You sighed and spared a glance at her sleeping form, the peaceful expression of her face only screaming at you to smother it with the pillow you had laid restlessly on. Weeks and weeks, every morning, you wake up, you stare at her sleeping face and you wish you could just make her sleep forever, it made you want to join her, to sleep and never wake. The anger had become so palpable you actually dreamed of killing her and then yourself just to break free from this never-ending cycle. You tip-toed around each other, you avoiding her like she was the plague because in your mind she was, and her treating you like an unexploded bomb that could go off at the slightest wrong movement. She knew it was her fault, she had made you this way but she had to believe you could both move past it without her shedding light on where she had disappeared off to those months ago. She knew what it would do to you both, leaving for three months without a word, just a quickly written note, no warning, no reassurance, just vanishing. She knew it was stupid to think she could come back without a word as to where she had went and everything would be the same but there was a tiny sliver of hope in her that it could happen. That hope was dashed away when a door was slammed in her face and not opened for her again for two weeks but when it did eventually open, that tiny sliver of hope came flooding back, a flame had ignited in her at the thought that everything would be okay but the flame was slowly dying the more weeks went by without a change in your demeanour. She could feel the hatred, the resentment, the hurt radiating off of you whenever you were near and there was nothing she could do to stop it anymore, you were stubborn, that she knew, but this, this was torture, karma getting its own back at her.

You couldn’t contain it anymore, the energy within you, staring at the wall and focusing on your breathing couldn’t help you now so you threw the covers off of you, rushing out of bed to storm out of the bedroom.

“Babe?” Her quiet, groggy voice sounded out from behind you and your body burned.

“What Abby?”

“Where are you going?”

“I dunno, be back soon.” You echoed the words in her letter and it stung, a physical pain ricocheting through her chest making it hard for her to breathe as she jumped out of bed to follow you.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You paused and spun to face her, your dark circles were craters under your eyes, your face gaunt and paler than it typically was, your eyes completely vacant, devoid of any emotion.

“I mean I don’t know. Don’t try to find me.” She wasn’t sure if you were doing it on purpose but once again you echoed the contents of her letter as you yanked your boots from the ground, opening the door and slamming it behind you without even a glimpse over your shoulder at her defeated expression. She huffed and dragged her hands down her face as she reluctantly went back to her room, collapsing on the bed. It was times like these she was glad Isaac had moved her to a suite of her own, the thought of Manny witnessing this sending a shiver through her. She knew you could both get through this, she knew, so why was doubt invading her every cell?

You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t know where you were going, you couldn’t go back to your room, it only reminded you of the memories of those three months when she had disappeared and you had locked yourself away, refusing assignments, refusing most food, refusing contact with anyone that wasn’t her. It was too painful to be there, it made being in Abby’s room calming despite her looming presence but this morning it had overwhelmed you, so you kept walking and walking until you ended up at the mess hall. You didn’t remember taking the route there but you had and it was too late to turn back because eyes were on you, familiar eyes, beckoning you over to them.

“Hey stranger! Where you been hiding?” Manny, he had once been a positive presence in your life but he was the antithesis of that now, he had left with her, they had all left with her, leaving you here in the dark and they wanted to play nice now they’re back, you couldn’t. His smile juxtaposed your death glare as you scoffed and looked past him like he wasn’t even there. He could see the anguish in your face, evident in all your features that were nowhere near the radiance you typically emitted, he knew what had happened to you, who had happened to you, his part in it weighing on him heavily. You don’t acknowledge him, you walk straight past him like he’s a ghost, straight past him and all the others waiting expectantly for any sign of forgiveness, straight to the double doors at the other end of the hall, ramming through them like you’re made of steel. “Well fuck.” He mutters as they all watch you storm away out of their sight.

“Are you surprised?” Nora remarks.

“Well no but it’s been almost two months now. She hasn’t cracked one bit.” His eyes never leaving the doors you had exited through.

“She’s seeing Abby, has she said anything about how she’s been?” Mel chimed in with a concerned tone.

“Nada. Fucking nada. It’s radio silence from both of ‘em. I barely even see Abby unless we’re on assignments together because she’s always locked up in her room. I’m worried about ‘em both.” His voice was laced with sadness and there was a tense atmosphere clouding over them as there always was when what they had done was brought up, it was never directly spoken about, it felt like poison to speak it aloud but even a hint of it was enough to make them all shrink into themselves, becoming wrapped in their thoughts.

You trailed the halls of the stadium, circling round and round until your legs ached and your mouth was dry, you had seen people dotted here and there as you walked, smiling politely at any that you mistakenly made eye contact with. You walked past another faceless body as the deafening thoughts drummed around your mind. There was a muffled echo, distant but growing closer until you’re interrupted by a hand enclosing around your wrist, you knew who it belonged to without even having to look causing you to snatch your wrist free from their grasp as you jumped back with a scowl.

“What are you doing? I was worried.” You scoffed at her concerned expression as her eyebrows scrunched. You went to walk away but she was too quick, hands squeezing your hips and pushing you back against the wall you had jumped toward in a bid to escape her first grasp. “Stop fucking walking away from me. When is it gonna end?” You just stared back in disbelief, unmoving in her strong grip, her glassy eyes mocking you, she doesn’t care, her actions had been the opposite of someone who had cared.

“You’re so fucking full of it Abby. You’re worried? Bite me, you don’t worry about anyone other than you.” You spat at her, the shock of your words causing her to loosen her grip around you enough for you to break free and begin storming away from her again.

“I- I just wanna talk. Please.”

“You had your chance to talk. You had so many fucking chances and you wasted them so don’t give me that shit. You wanna feel better about what you did and my forgiveness is the only thing that will do that. Too fucking bad Abby.” You don’t slow as you grit over your shoulder to her but neither does she, following your every movement only a step behind.

“Well if you can’t forgive me why are you still with me? Why do you sleep at mine every night? Why do you still say you love me back when I tell you I love you? What’s the fucking point of it?” You freeze, a choked sob catching in your throat as you look up to the ceiling to beg the tears to just stay in your eyes.

“Because I do love you Abby.” You mutter barely loud enough for her to hear. “How don’t you understand that?” You sound broken, like a shell of yourself.

“Make me understand.” You scoff and chuckle dryly at her as you shake your head.

“I don’t owe you that.” You continue walking again but this time she doesn’t follow, stuck in her place.

“I have patrol! I won’t be back until later.” She calls out to you.

“Thanks for the heads up!” You call back sarcastically. “This time.” You mutter under your breath as you storm further and further from Abby.

You don’t know why you ended up back at Abby’s room, it was so stupid, you couldn’t stand seeing her but her room was the only place that felt safe, you stared at the key that she had once slammed down in front of you as you refused to acknowledge her pleads to just talk, the memory making your blood run cold. It was the first time you had even answered her repeated pounds against your door, two weeks after she had returned, though you opening the door made absolutely no difference because it was like she wasn’t there at all. You had unlatched the door, so it opened a sliver before immediately walking away from it leaving her to hesitantly follow you inside. She watched as you sunk down onto your bed, staring at the wall opposite instead of sparing a glance towards her as she stood over you. She had just stared down at you, pleading with you silently to just look at her but you never did. She slammed the spare key to her room down on your bedside table before sighing and leaving disappointed for what was only the first time to come over the next two weeks. It became a routine, she’d knock, you’d unlock the door and walk away, she’d come in to desperately get you to reason with her but when you showed no signs of a change in your demeanour, she’d give up and leave you alone, letting herself out shamefully. She was just too good at leaving you.

When you had turned up at her door, using the key she had given you, she was stunned, almost so stunned she didn’t see your tear-streaked cheeks and red, glassy eyes but she did notice, she noticed and a lump formed in her throat that she desperately tried to swallow down as she just watched you. Even in her own room you barely acknowledged her only choosing to mutter a small ‘can I stay here tonight?’, the second she vigorously nodded her head you drifted towards her bed, collapsing onto it and immediately burying your face into the pillow to muffle your sobs. She had rubbed your back but when she tried to cuddle into you and wrap you in her embrace you pushed her away hard enough that she didn’t try again. You had gone back to hers everyday since then and the routine hadn’t changed from that point on though you had grown from hurt and beaten down to hostile and the tense atmosphere was painfully tangible. It remained the same as you let yourself into her room, knowing she would eventually come back from patrol later that day and you’d have to face her once again

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Abby felt completely dejected, she was tired and her adrenaline that had powered her through today was fleeting, she was panicking about Owen after seeing Danny’s body and hearing what Nora had told her, everything was backwards and knowing you wouldn’t be there as a comfort to her only made her feel worse as she turned the key to unlock her room. She knew you were here but that made no difference these days, even when you were here you weren’t here and that broke her. 

“Hey.” Her voice was meek and cracked as she looked at you, standing in front of her with the same vacant expression you had worn for months, she couldn’t hold it in anymore, the dam broke and hot, salty tears began flowing down her cheeks as her choked sobs filled the quiet of the room. 

“What’s wrong?” You had moved closer, your eyebrows knitted together in concern as you spoke softly, juxtaposing your harsh tone she had gotten used to, it only made her cry more which drew you in closer until your hand was on her shoulder and squeezing. “Abby what happened?” 

“I- nothing, nothing. We just got ambushed on patrol, I think I’m just tired I don’t know.” You nodded but you were looking at her like you were expecting her to continue, you were coaxing the words out of her and she had no control. “Owen shot Danny and now he’s missing and I just don’t know what to do. Nothing’s the same anymore.” 

“No it isn’t.” Your voice wasn’t as soft as it had been, it wasn’t mean but it wasn’t soft, she warily peeked at your face and the sight of it hardened once again caused another choked sob to rack through her body. She stepped towards you and dropped down to her knees as she wrapped her large arms around your waist and squeezed as she pressed her cheek into your stomach. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left the way I did and if I could take it back I would but I can’t keep doing this, I miss you and I miss us, I need you, everything’s different I need us to be the same. I’m sorry.” Your hand came to her hair, stroking gently. 

“Tell me where you went.” 

“I- I can’t.” She sobbed more as your hand snatched itself away from her hair before you reached behind you and desperately tried to unclasp her from your waist. “No please, please don’t go. Please I can’t do this without you.” 

“I don’t fucking understand Abby, why won’t you just tell me?” 

“You won’t be able to look at me the same.” 

“I can’t look at you the same now so what difference does it make?” Her eyes meet yours as she looks up at you from her place on the floor and the sight of her lip wobbling as her cheeks were red and tear-streaked almost made your resolve waiver but you couldn’t. You wished you could forget but you couldn’t. 

“Please.” She begged but it fell on deaf ears. 

“Let me go Abby.” She blew out a breath as her eyes clamped shut and she swallowed a sob, her arms loosened around you letting you break free from her grasp to practically run to the front door and leave. She didn’t watch you go from her position on the floor, she just sat and collapsed into a fit of sobs as her door slammed signalling your departure. You couldn’t keep it together once you had walked out of her room, everything felt like it was coming crashing down as you paced the halls. It wasn’t enough to leave Abby’s room, you still felt suffocated, you needed to get out of the stadium. You headed straight for the secret hole in the fence that only you and Abby knew about to make your escape and the second you emerged into the drizzly outside of Seattle you could feel your lungs filling with air that you desperately needed. You considered going back in but when you turned back, your lungs felt like they were constricting again and you ran in the complete opposite direction until your legs were tired and your lungs burned. You didn’t have a gun, or a knife, you were completely defenceless so when you heard the shrill cries of infected, you immediately looked for an entrance into any one of the buildings that surrounded you. 

You spotted a window open just one story up at an old theatre and you sprinted towards it and up the stairs of the fire escape to climb through. Once you were inside, you shut the window softly and began making your way through what you assumed was the backstage area of the theatre, the red, velvet curtains called you towards them and as you stepped through you gasped at the sight of an auburn-haired girl sleeping on one of the chairs. She looked a couple years younger than you, nineteen or twenty you assumed, and despite the sleep her face still looked screwed up and tense. You edged closer to her, careful not to make any noise and when you saw her gun on the seat next to her you grabbed it, pointing it at her while kicking at her shoe. She stirred slightly and then her eyes flashed open revealing bright green eyes staring back at you in disbelief.  

“Don’t scream. Who are you?”  

tags: @emiliabby @liasxeatt @kawaiibreadbouquet-blog @tphmnv

[amywritesthings]

SEEING YOU, SEEING ME (4/7)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.

Warnings: 18+! No Minors! Pre-TLOU, One Bed Trope, Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Manhandling, Light sadism, Touch Starved!Joel, Mentions of death and violence, Age gap/difference, Slow burn, Semi-Enemies to Fuckers, Alcoholism

( Read on AO3 )

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter | Masterlist

CHAPTER 4: CAN'T QUIT YOU, BABY

Joel has been gone for hours.

You’ve laid in his bed this entire time, thinking.

You shouldn’t; this new world can’t afford daydreaming, that much you’ve learned the hard way. Breathing, eating, surviving — those are the only important pieces of the puzzle they call enduring, but you can’t find a reason to want to eat right now and the image marinating in your head is making it a little tough to breathe.

Because you can’t stop thinking about him. Joel, Joel fucking Miller, and the way he stared down at your lips in plain sight. The way you witnessed a momentary lapse of judgment in real time, making him just as human as you. The way his fist curled white-knuckle tight when you toed the line of a conversation better suited past midnight.

You came here forty-something hours ago thinking Joel Miller hated you.

He may be disinterested or, God forbid, indifferent, but he doesn’t hate you.

You’re now not sure what is worse.

Because you certainly don’t hate him.

The opposite — you smell him on these sheets, these pillow cases, and if you shut your eyes hard enough, then you can see him: Joel staring from the other end of the table — staring at you — like he’s seen you this whole time.

Before you’ve realized, your fingers have unbuttoned your worn denim jeans and found their way slipping under the waistband, seeking relief.

You shouldn’t, but you can’t help it.

You shouldn’t, but it’ll be quick.

(You’re already halfway there.)

The second your fingers touch your clit, an audible gasp leaves your mouth. Electric; you waste no time getting to it, circles tight and deliberate. Brutal.

Exactly how you think he’d do it if he were here, staring down at you, wanting to take everything from you and then some. He’d be merciless, accepting nothing less than driving you past the point of pleasure and pain.

Maybe he’d hold you down.

Maybe he’d put his hand over your neck.

(Maybe I can make you feel alive, darlin’.)

The imaginary baritone voice in your head causes the orgasm to crash like the wave of a cresting hurricane, and your back involuntarily arches off the mattress. The world — the quarantine zone, the apocalypse, the end of times — disappears in a blissful blank space.

A space filled with the scent of him where you can drown.

It feels like minutes pass where you linger in the aftermath, muscles melting the stress of the week away.

Click.

And just like that, the bliss is gone as the front door of the apartment swings open.

Ripping your hand from your jeans, you scramble to sit at the head of the bed and out of view. Joel’s heavy boots glide through the threshold of the house, locking the door behind him.

“You still in bed?” he muses, calling from the living room.

You frantically re-button your pants, struggling to find your voice.

“Hey!” you call, uncharacteristically chipper and out of breath. “Hi, sorry, I took a nap.”

By the time you’re fussing with your mangled hair, Joel’s already in view. He leans forward against the divider, watching you, forearm raised over his head and pressed into the trim. His other hand finds its way to his hip.

“A nap?” he repeats with a hint of surprise.

“Can’t really afford them most days,” you reply, belated glancing up at him. “I thought rather than snooping, it might be productive to get some shut eye.”

He considers it for a beat, nodding to himself before raising a brow: sure, whatever. Joel’s hand gently opens and taps at the wall.

“Gonna make some dinner in a bit if you’re interested.”

“It’s already dinnertime?”

That raised brow drops to knit with the other. “How long were you out? Sounds like one hell of a nap.”

The guilt pools in the pit of your stomach.

“I’d love dinner,” you swerve, nodding eagerly. “Thank you.”

Joel lingers, thinking about something he isn’t saying out loud, and taps his fingers one final time. That hand pushes him from the wall and towards the kitchen where he begins prepping for dinner, leaving you still in his bed.

Eventually you leave the mattress to join him in the conjoined kitchen and living room.

For most of the night, you say nothing.

Waiting.

For food, for nightfall, for another day where Tess isn’t coming home and you’re stuck with these parasitic thoughts of the older man generous enough to share his food.

Now it isn’t just the dim light that he’s attractive in: it’s every fucking angle, every goddamn sound, every single movement.

(So this is what it’s like to feel.)

Dinner is relatively silent. The scrape of forks to ceramic fill the apartment once again, and he’s already positioned his glass container of whiskey in the center of the table.

Something of a nightly ritual for the smuggler.

He’s already working on his second glass, as are you. The combination of surviving on little food and the haze of the alcohol brings an idea to mind. 

“Does the radio work?” you ask out of nowhere, surprising yourself with the intrusive thought out loud.

Joel, nearly finished with his rationed portion, looks up with suspicion.

“The radio?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” you answer dumbly. “For music. Jeanine in the south quadrant has a radio station.”

“Does she?”

“You didn’t know that?” 

“You think I talk to Jeanine in the south quadrant?”

“Fair point,” you reply. “But yeah. She’s figured out the whole radio thing and I thought… since you had music the first night I got here—”

“Sure.”

Your voice dies on your tongue with Joel’s flippant agreement.

(You expected a flat-out no.)

Sliding out of your dining table chair, you cross the room and pointedly avoid the Top 100 book still sitting where you last left it. Crouching over the fragile relic of a box, you meddle with the dials for a few minutes until a familiar voice croons from the station.

It’s Led Zeppelin’s I Can’t Quit You, Baby clear over the radio waves.

Right at the beginning, too, bringing a large smile to your face.

“Fuck, I missed this song.”

It’s under his breath, but there’s a chuckle from Joel somewhere in the middle of the room.

“Have you ever heard of Led Zeppelin?” you ask over your shoulder.

“Have I ever heard—” The audacity of the baited question switches up his typical monotone approach. “Kid, I grew up listening to this. Don’t talk to me about Zeppelin like I don’t know ‘em.”

“So did I,” you supply in a sing-song, standing up straight. “See? Not so different.”

Joel sours, crossing his arms over his chest. You turn to face him, slowly moving your shoulders to the beat of the bass. “I’m sure you never saw them play live, though.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Final tour of ‘77. I was eleven.”

“Shut up.”

“I did. They came to Houston.”

“Shit, you really are old,” you tease, scrunching your nose as you sway. You're met with a large roll of his eyes in return. “You're lucky. I never got to go to a concert before all this.”

“Damn shame.”

“I know,” you agree, "but I’ve seen photographs in books. Richie Thompson, you know him?”

“Sure.”

“He was somehow able to keep old photographs he took twenty years ago at a… festival? He showed me them a few years back. They were sick.”

“I can only imagine.” Joel’s scowl returns slowly as the sway of your shoulders begin to influence the rest of your body. Your torso twists with them, slowed in your impromptu dance as your head moves in time to the guitar solo. The older man clears his throat. “What’re you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you repeat, raising your hands with your pointer fingers up. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Don’t know,” he bluntly responds. “S’why I asked.”

“Pretty sure it’s called dancing, Miller.”

“Dancing?”

“Yeah.” You curl your fingers, one then the other, to the rhythm and make small steps towards the sitting man. “Danc-ing. Oughta try it sometime.”

“I don’t— Wait.”

Yeah.

You should wait.

Because your hand has found its way playfully to the shoulder of his denim shirt, suggesting he stand with you. You begin to crouch towards him, grinning ear to ear. Your hips wiggle behind you as you bend closer to him with tipsy abandon, and Joel’s eyes dart from your face to behind your ear.

The chair scrapes in a screech against the floor.

Joel stands tall, assertive, and drags you into him by your right elbow.

“Stop.”

You freeze in your sway at the growl in his voice.

The flat of his palm curls around your waist, forcibly keeping you close. He steps a boot into the space between your feet.

Suddenly Joel Miller is crowding you, hovering there, and you lose your breath.

“Did I do something?” you ask despite yourself, but you don’t recognize your voice. It’s small, needy, and it flickers an emotion across the tired lines of his face. In this proximity, the warmth of him radiates through his denim shirt. “I’m sor—”

When you lift your chin to meet his eyes, your head juts back to avoid going nose to nose with him. From here you see every single tired line, every single scar, every twitch in his face. Joel is on top of you, zero to sixty, and hasn’t moved yet.

Fuck.

You eyes round at the implication, but Joel doesn’t notice.

Not when he’s too busy staring at your lips.

And it stays that way for a minute.

“I can’t do this.”

He finally speaks, but he doesn’t move away. From beneath him, you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

“Okay,” you agree with an unconvincing nod.

(Do what? is a question you won’t ask.)

Joel’s hand squeezes your waist with purpose, jolting your body as he lulls in closer. 

“Had too much to drink.”

You nod again, but say nothing to his statement. Wouldn't dare; not when he's so close that you'll brush his lips if you try.

(He’s barely touched his second drink.)

The hand at your waist and the combination of his forward foot push you sidelong, a half-hearted sway, then directly backwards — a second step, a third — until you're both walking past the threshold of the living room of this open-space apartment—

Right into the makeshift bedroom.

Joel takes the lead with hesitant precision and you allow him, heart pounding in your ears.

Then the possessive hand on your waist twists and pushes, abruptly spinning you around. Your hands collide with something cold, flat, to steady your legs.

The wall.

The only divider skewing the view of the bedroom from the front door.

Joel is warm and solid behind you, broad chest pressing you into the flower-scattered wallpaper with purpose. You glide your cheek against the wall where the paper chips and ebbs on your lips, nose, until it presses to your forehead.

His large hands raise to encase yours, pinning your palms to the surface.

“M’not a good man,” he admits against the shell of your earlobe, and you want to outright moan. From this proximity, the baritone southern drawl vibrates through your head and shoots straight down. “I’ve done things—”

“Everyone’s done things,” you tell him weakly, cutting off his confession.

“Not like me,” he assures, hawkish nose nuzzling the hair at the nape of your neck.

You lean back, using both pressed palms as leverage to arch your hips into the crotch of his jeans. The strained sound that falls from his lips is deliciously sinful.

Only a thread away from snapping.

Your head drops back to his shoulder just enough to breathe to the ceiling. His salt and pepper beard tickles your skin. “You don't scare me, Miller.”

“I should.” His lips hover along your neck, tickling with ever labored breath. “Ain't got nothing to lose at my age, but you—”

Of course.

Of course this is what it boils down to.

Anger bubbles in your belly, twisting the arousal. Joel’s grip on your hands loosen, offering an opportunity to counterstrike: you rip them from the wall, left then right, and spin before he can stop you — and he does try, yet it's too late by the time he slams you back into the wall, now face to face. Your hands find their way to the pockets of his denim button-down, angling a forearm barrier between you.

The way Joel Miller’s eyes have blackened since you last saw them is downright wicked.

You blow some hair from your flushed face, chest rising and falling with anger. 

“Is that the only thing stopping you? Huh? Because you're a lost cause at your big age?" When he doesn’t answer, you crane your neck to hiss closer to his face in a mockery of his drawl. “I've done heinous shit. You still got your whole life ahead of you. You could settle down while the world's ending and be as fucking ignorant as the rest—”

"Hey."

His hands, now finding purchase on your shoulders, push you harder into the wall as he growls in return.

“Watch. It.”

You’ve kicked the hornet’s nest.

And in the moment, you can’t find a single fuck to give.

“I may not be a year away from earning an A-A-R-fucking-P card like your mopey ass, but I’m not untouchable, Joel.” The lines of his face smooth at the sound of his first name. “I'm not some fragile thing wearing white. And I sure as fuck don’t need someone to tell me what I have to lose, so quit acting like you're saving me.”

The pressure remains, but the smuggler stays perfectly still. His nostrils flare with every inhale. You rest the back of your head against the wall, allowing the light from the open window to illuminate the bottom half of your face.

“Whatever it is you think I deserve? It isn't what I want. I see you, Joel, and you see me.”

Joel studies your face in what little light remains, Adam’s apple bobbing with apprehension.

Then his left hand leaves your shoulder, seizing your jaw mercilessly in his hand with his fingers. You make a noise, small yet audible, and have no choice but to obey when he drags your gaze higher to his face.

“Don’t ask for things you don’t understand,” he warns, low and venomous. “I say you’re young ‘cus you are. I had my time to date. Hell, I had my time to divorce. Been way past that puppy dog shit. Nothing about this would be soft—”

“I don’t care.”

“—or kind—”

“I don’t care.”

“—or real,” he emphasizes by squeezing your face to the point where he could bruise. You wince, standing on the toe of your boots to accommodate the pain. “I ain’t like that anymore. So when I say you don't want this, m'telling you because you deserve better. More. Not something... hollow or broken. Because when I touch something, it always—”

He catches himself there, realizing the emotion bubbling in the back of his throat before it can rise. He lets go like your skin has burned him, backing away by a full foot. 

You stay pressed to the wall, watching with a wide gaze of regret and longing.

(You didn’t mean to push him, just like he didn’t mean to make your jaw sore.)

Joel runs a hand down his face, fighting to get a grip on reality between several blinks. He turns to make his way around the wall, but you see it: the way the same hand drops to adjust himself in his jeans.

You want to follow him and drop to your knees and—

“Go to bed.”

Joel breaks the fantasy before it can start with a growl of a demand, back turned to you.

“Go to bed. Don’t come out here. Just forget about this.”

“Joel—”

“I ain’t askin’ you, girl.”

He barks over his shoulder, scowl flaring his nostrils. The yell makes you jump, but you listen: step by step you venture backwards, away from the wall you once found yourself pinned against until your boots hit the edge of the mattress.

After a moment, the crooning radio flickers to silence.

You hear the couch creak with the weight of him when he flops down onto it.

He doesn’t say goodnight.

Author's Note: How are we feeling, Joel Nation? I hope his manhandling wasn't too jarring. Since this is pre-TLOU, I imagine Joel is very touch starved/averse, so it made sense to me to write him as such.

As always, reblogs/comments are everything. Thank you so much for all of the support on this little story! ILU all.

[katnisspeetaprim]

Misunderstanding

Chan/9thMember!Reader, Jungkook/Sister!Reader (Part of the little sister universe)

Summary: Jungkook walks in on shomething he shouldn't have seen and misunderstand's the situation.

Warnings: established relationship, female reader, sex, violence?, talk of hate, swearing, idol!au

Word Count: 1233 M.list

You moaned out as Chan slammed you down onto the bed, firmly holding your head down as he thrust into you from behind.

You both moaned out together as Chan’s movements became rougher, your high becoming closer... when it was suddenly ripped away from you.

You screamed out in horror when Chan was suddenly and roughly shoved off you. Your let out a shocked gasp when your eyes focused and you realised that your brother was grabbing at your boyfriend’s shoulders threateningly.

Chan didn’t know what was happening right away. One moment he was having the best sex of his life, then next he was on the floor, elbow sore from scraping it and someone grabbing tightly onto him.

‘Jungkook no!’ You screamed, already close to sobbing. He just ignored you and continued to shout nonsensical things in Chan’s face.

Chan was helpless on the floor. He was trying to explain to Jungkook that you were in fact together, all while trying to maintain his dignity.

You gathered up the blankets from the bed, and ran to put yourself between the two men.

It took all your strength to push your brother away, considering how angry he was in this moment.

‘Oppa please stop!’ You pushed at his chest in an attempt to get him to listen. When he was far enough away from Chan, he finally looked down at you.

‘Why are you protecting him!? He was holding you down!’

‘Ne he wasn’t! We’re together!’ Jungkook stopped fighting you and froze in place. Had he heard you correctly just now?

Chan stayed on the ground in an attempt to show that he meant no harm as Jungkook stared into space, as if he couldn’t understand your words.

You were still holding onto his arms even though he had stopped fighting, not wanting to chance him suddenly lunging again.

Jungkook spared one last look to Chan, then to you, before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. You jumped at the loud noise, but still span round to face Chan, just as he was shakily getting to his feet.

You could tell that he was embarrassed by the situation, going by the red tint to his cheeks.

Obviously, neither of you had banked on your brother suddenly turning up unannounced to your home. You hadn’t heard the front door open, so Jungkook was probably sulking in your living room.

‘Are you ok?’ You ran your hands gently along his shoulders, which were still slick with sweat.

‘I’m fine, he didn’t hit me. Just embarrassed...’ You grimaced.

‘I’m sorry...’ You trailed off, not sure how to make the situation any better.

‘Don’t be. He was just protecting you.’ Chan stroked your cheek and kissed the top of your head.

‘You should probably speak to him... Clear some things up.’ Chan backed away almost sheepishly.

You nodded with a sigh, not looking forward to having this conversation with your brother of all people.

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll get cleaned up and try and regain some dignity.’ Chan chuckled humourlessly, already scurrying away to the bathroom.

A little while later after getting dressed, you all but tip toed into the living room, to see Jungkook leaning back on the sofa, head buried in his phone.

He didn’t look up when you sat down next to him.

‘Are you seriously gonna ignore me right now?’ You scoffed, crossing your arms.

Jungkook sighed in annoyance before pocketing his phone.

‘I just don’t understand how you could be so stupid.’

‘What the heck!? How am I stupid?’

‘Fucking your band mate for one...’ He mumbled under his breath, looking away with a shake of his head.

‘We aren’t just ‘fucking!’ We’re in a relationship.’ Jungkook turned fully towards you and grasped your arms. You let out a small yelp at the sudden contact, not expecting him to grab you.

‘You don’t understand!’ He yelled, taking you by surprise. ‘If it get’s out, then you’ll be the one to take the fall. Not him!’ Your face softened. You understood now where he was coming from. It was the unfortunate reality that female idols usually faced more criticism, and harsher punishments for dating scandals than their male counter parts. It also doesn’t help that Chan is the leader of your group. You cringed thinking of the headlines and the implications of that one.

‘We don’t have a dating ban anymore...’

‘You really think that’s gonna mean anything in the long run?’ He looked at you pointedly and leaned back once again.

‘Chan won’t let anything like that happen to me.’ You sat up straight and spoke confidently.

‘You can’t be sure of that!’ Jungkook threw his hands up in exasperation, annoyed that he wasn’t getting through to you.

Before you could reply, Chan appeared from the hallway.

‘I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.’ Chan paused to take in Jungkook’s scowling face. ‘But Y/N is right. I would never let anything happen to her.’ You flashed him a weak smile as he came to sit on the armchair next to you.

Jungkook took in Chan’s prescience, before once again addressing you, but softer this time.

‘I just don’t want you to loose everything you’ve worked so hard for...’

‘That won’t happen.’ You reassured. Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

‘I know you think it doesn’t mean anything...’ Chan started, before slyly glancing to you and taking a breath. ‘ But I love her. Y/N means the world to me, and I’ll protect her no matter what.’ You were stunned at his sudden confession of love. You hadn’t been together too long yet, but you knew you felt the same.

You leaned over and placed your hand on his, flashing him a warm smile. A silent promise that you would talk later.

Jungkook went silent at Chan’s words. He slumped back and rubbed his forehead.

‘If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.’ He sighed out, knowing there was nothing else to say. You suddenly perked up with a wide smile, launching yourself forwards and throwing you arms round your brother. He laughed and patted your back.

‘Ok, ok! I don’t want your cooties.’

‘Are you 12 years old?’ You laughed out, but pulled back regardless.

‘You better keep your promise.’ Jungkook went back to staring daggers at Chan, only half joking now.

‘If she get’s hurt, you’re dead.’ Your eyes flicked to your boyfriend as you tried to hide your snigger.

‘Yeah... You have nothing to worry about. Y/N is in safe hands.’ Chan rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling nervous.

‘Ok that’s enough. You can’t scare away every guy who takes an interest.’ You jabbed Jungkook’s leg with your toe.

‘No, but I can always try!’ The three of you shared a laugh before falling into an awkward silence.

‘So... What did you need earlier?’ Chan broke the silence. Jungkook looked over and shook his head.

‘Ah, it doesn’t matter now.’ Jungkook stayed for a little while longer, before deciding that it was time to leave. It would take longer for him to get over the awkwardness of walking in on his little sister having sex.

Now though he had another issue. He had to find a way to gently let down his friend that you were no longer single, after promising to set you up with him...

[losfacedevil]

@gretasmokerising tumblr hates me (or it really hates the picture of Jake I was TRYING to use) and keeps eating this. I hope I’ve done it justice!

A groan slipped past Jakes lips as he let himself fall across the bed, slipping his arms behind his head as his eyes fluttered shut. He sighed softly as his muscles finally began to relax, the stress of the day finally dissipating from his body.

You puttered around the kitchen cleaning up the remnants of the day, finishing the few dirty dishes that rested in the sink and straightened up the living room you had left in disarray when Jake slipped into your shared living space hours earlier than planned.

He toed off his shoes, letting them crash to the ground and crossed his feet at the ankles. He nuzzled his head against the pillow, reveling in the feel of the soft fabric against his head.

Satisfied with your work in the house you turned and flipped off the lights in the kitchen, slowly making your way into the bedroom to retire for the night.

“Hey babe, you gonna come shower with me?” The sentence was out of your mouth before you were fully in the room, eyes trained on your dresser as you brushed past the door. You wasted no time collecting your night clothes and toiletries, carefully choosing which scent you wanted to go with tonight.

“Baby?” A soft sigh escaped you as you turned and found Jake spread out across the bed. His head had lolled to the side and his mouth hung open slightly, soft snores emanating from the exhausted man. You placed your belongings back on the dresser before making your way over to the bed. The corners of your lips turned down into a slight pout as you sat next to him, fighting the familiar feeling of disappointment growing in your stomach.

“Sweetheart, at least take your jeans off so you’re comfortable.” You cooed, gently undoing his belt and popping the button of his jeans. A tired smile spread across his face as he stirred, reaching down to push his jeans down past his thighs.

“Too much work.” He mumbled, bending his legs at the knees earning himself a giggle and you pulling his pants off the rest of the way. Tossing them to the side you laid your hands on his legs, gently digging the pads of your fingers into his tense muscles. A satisfied groan slipped past his lips as he reached up and scrubbed a hand down his face.

You laid your head on his thigh and let your eyes slip shut briefly against your better judgement, as you knew full well you were done for once you laid down. His thigh muscle was taut beneath the soft material of his boxers against your cheek garnering a satisfied sigh from you.

Jake reached his hand down lazily, resting his fingers in the hair at the crown of your head. You pressed a soft kiss to his clothed thigh before moving up slightly and laying your head against his stomach. You felt his muscles clench instantly, his breath catching in his throat slightly as he tried to work through his inner battle.

“Relax, it’s not comfy when you’re all tense.” You tease, running your nose over the expanse of his stomach, knowing full well how he felt about his stomach. His chest rose in a deep sigh as he slowly began to let his muscles relax, his tummy becoming soft once more.

“Happy?” His voice held a tone you hate hearing come from him, one of self consciousness you knew he shouldn’t entertain.

“That’s better, perfect even.” You cooed, nuzzling your cheek against the sliver of skin that peeked out between his shirt and waistband. You reached your hand up to rub soothing circles into the skin of his thigh, relaxing him as best you could as he fought off the nature of his thoughts.

“It’s far from perfect.” You heard him mumble, his fingers beginning to dance against your scalp as he fully relaxed once more. A sigh slipped past your lips and you turned your head, placing the softest kiss against his exposed skin. A soft gasp escaped him, his fingers stilling in their movements.

“What are you doing? Don’t kiss it, stop it!” He lifted his head slightly, trying to keep his tone playful, but you knew him far too well.

“I love you.” Was all you offered as his fingers began to rub against your scalp once more.

Jakes mind reeled, fighting off the intrusive thoughts he knew weren’t real. The ones he knew didn’t matter to you or anyone else for that matter, the thoughts of how flawed he thought he was. He knew he was healthy, loved and cherished but sometimes the thoughts just couldn’t be silenced.

“I love you the most.” He mumbled, scratching his nails against your scalp.

Your breathing shallowed and the grip you had on his thigh loosened, alerting him to the fact that you had fallen asleep. A sigh slipped past his lips as he tried to adjust the way he was laying, throwing his leg over your waist and reaching over as far as he could to turn off the lamp.

[kissorkill16]

Should I Trust Her?: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: How can you like someone who used to be a bully? Take notes from Maritza.

(P.S., for @maritzaxfinchshiper !)

I don't know what the hell Nicky was thinking inviting Finch to the group.

The girl was a freaking bitch the whole time we knew her.

Of course, I was glad that she was a little afraid of me after me and the gang broke her camera. That thought helped every time I saw her face.

As time went by, Nicky told me that I should at least try to tolerate her, just like he'd told Trinity. But I didn't want to tolerate her, I wanted her to get out of our group and away from him.

She used to fucking bully him for God's sake!

I know Nicky wanted to give her another chance, but not everyone deserves that. Some people are still jerks no matter how much you want to trust them, and Finch was one of those jerks, I could tell just by looking at her.

But as I kept a close eye on Finch, I started to tolerate her only a little bit. We talked about stuff, and we're both athletic. She does hiking thanks to the scouts, and I do soccer.

I still didn't really trust her though, I was just getting used to her.

One afternoon, I was walking home from school, and I saw a familiar person through someone's window.

A window of a nice house, a nice big house. All white, windows were rose gold, hedges were trimmed, and the lawn was mowed.

Damn, whoever lived here must be rich rich.

When I looked closer through the window, I saw that the familiar person was...Finch?!

Was this her house?

And in front of her was a tall man in a dark green sweater vest. I guess it might be her dad.

I knew I shouldn't, I wasn't a stalker, I wasn't like Nicky or something. (Okay, low blow. I know, but I didn't know what else to say.) But against my better judgement, I tip toed to the window and listened to their conversation.

"Dad, it wasn't my fault. I -"

"I don't want to hear it, young lady. Here I am, trying to work to support this family after your skank of a mother left, and here you are being a fucking stalker!", said her dad.

The man held up a familiar newspaper article, and I immediately knew what they were arguing about. The newspaper article about Nicky's mental breakdown.

Then he held up two more pictures I didn't recognize, or even realized she took. They were also pictures of Nicky.

When did she take those? Was she planning to use those?

Oh my fucking God, I knew she couldn't be trusted.

"So not only did you make this article and make this poor boy look like a fool, you're also using your new one to stalk him! Probably to make another embarrassing article, I'm guessing.", said Finch's dad.

"Dad, I promise. It's not like that.", Finch tried to explain, but the man held up her hand, signaling her to stop talking.

"Not another word.", he said. "I'm going to take these pictures, and I'll be destroying them."

The look on Finch's face was something I've never seen before. She looked almost devastated.

"And you owe this boy an apology."

That's when I walked away from the window and away from the house completely.

Damn, was Finch's dad a jerk or what?

The worst thing was that he didn't know that Finch already apologized to Nicky for the picture incident.

I couldn't help but feel bad for her. I hated her so much, and it looked like she already got enough hate from her own dad. Sure, I couldn't blame him for getting mad at her for that article, but he didn't even give her a chance to explain herself for the other pictures.

She didn't take those to make another article, she took those because she liked Nicky and wanted to keep him with her at all times.

Like I said, I felt kind of bad, so I decided that I should make it up to her.

When I saw her in the hallway, I pulled her aside to the bathroom.

"Maritza?", she said. "What're you doing?"

I didn't answer her question. Instead, I took out an orange envelope and handed it to her. "Open this.", I said.

Finch was hesitant for a moment, but then she took the envelope and opened it. She softly gasped and held a hand to her mouth, and her eyes widened in surprise.

I could see her eyes sparkling.

"Where did you get these?", she asked, showing me the tiny pieces of paper that were in the envelope.

They were all pictures of Nicky.

"Well, I borrowed a camera from one of the employees at the Raven Brooks Banner and followed Nicky around.", I replied. Now Finch looked a little worried. "Were you seen?", she asked.

I shook my head, "Nope. I wore extra layers of clothing and a mask. If anything, they'll probably think I'm some creepy stalker.", I said. "I even got a couple of him sleeping, and poor dude was too beat to even wake up when the cam flashed."

Finch looked down at the pictures, then back up at me. "Maritza, why did you do this for me?", she asked.

I shrugged and rubbed the back of my head, "I felt kind of bad after I kind of overheard you and your dad arguing about that newspaper article -"

"How do you -"

"Not important.", I said. "Look, I felt bad for you, so I thought I'd do something nice for you. Your dad probably already destroyed those old pictures of Nicky, so..."

Her eyes widened, and she looked at the pictures again, then back up at me. She smiled and gave me a hug, I stilled for a moment, but I eventually hugged her back.

"Thank you so much, Mari!", she squealed.

"Yeah, no problem.", I said. Then I gently pushed her away, "But here's the catch. You can only keep those if you promise not to bully Nicky anymore."

Finch nodded so fast, her head could've come off. "I promise."

I put a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her, "Great.", I said. "Now don't go breaking that promise."

We both walked out of the bathroom. As I walked to my next class, I couldn't help but think to myself that maybe I could learn to like Finch.

After all, she was starting to be nicer and less of a bitch. Maybe as we progress more from there, we could actually be friends.

[honeytama]

Date w/ Matt in Dallas, TX Headcanons

Matt Dierkes x Reader

A/N: I made my first moodboard?? Wild. This is dedicated to Matt being a proud Texas man 🫡

Content: Pure fluff, established relationship, some suggestive content, Matt and you being cute at the Dallas World Aquarium and Serious Pizza in DTX

Word Count: 1.1k

This is for the Matt lovers out there: whether you’ve been to Dallas, are from here, or haven’t been. For the sake of these headcanons, where Reader lives is open/undetermined.

Matt gets excited when he hears you haven’t been to the Dallas World Aquarium. 

“It’s like my fourth favorite place ever.”

You ask him what his first favorite place is.

“Probably, in bed, with you,” he winks.

You blush and slap his bicep.

“I was going to take you on a date there tomorrow, but I guess not,” he jokes, shaking his head.

You beg him to take you.

“Alright, alright. Just make sure you wear some comfortable shoes,” he constantly teases you about choosing to wear Dr. Martens with every outfit. They’re comfortable, what can you say?

The next afternoon, you’re in his car with his hand on your thigh as he drives you to the aquarium. The radio blasts with a blended playlist of your two’s favorite music.

He parks and you both make the walk to the front entrance to buy your tickets. You’re astounded at the detail of the building and it’s HUGE. Fronds of leaves and bamboo make the entrance immerse you into a rainforest jungle. It even felt a little more humid than outside.

Matt notices you looking around in awe as you wait in line.

“You’re going to love it as much as me. There’s penguins, alligators—,” he stops when you put a finger to his lips.

You tease him about giving spoilers.

Matt’s not too much into PDA, but he’ll hold your hand shamelessly. He does judge the “Disneyland-waiting-line-couples” that “choose to have each other's hands all over each other and their tongues fighting a war in each other's mouths.”

You lean in close enough so only he can hear and tell him that he didn’t judge you when you had your tongue in his mouth last night.

“That’s different! We were in the privacy of my own home,” he defends himself.

You two finally reach the ticket booth and he pays for you, of course.

He takes your hand, again. You figure he should lead you throughout the experience so you follow close behind him.

You two stop at the penguin exhibit first. There’s a door to step outside and a nice-sized area where small, Black-footed penguins swam and played.

Matt immediately releases your hand to take pictures. He spots a squirrel in a tree that somehow entered the exhibit, and takes a picture of that too.

“I just wish there was a raccoon exhibit here,” he frowns.

You warn him again about giving spoilers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, taking your hand to lead you back into the building.

You end up on a walkway on the second floor that looks over a lagoon below. The aquarium continues its rainforest theme with trees, mist, and birds able to freely fly around the building.

A toucan flies up to you both and lands on the fencing before you. It hops onto Matt’s shoulder and he carefully hands you his phone to snap a picture.

“Can you tell I’m trying not to freak out?” Matt says softly with a smile.

The rest of the rainforest-themed area you two hold hands through is gorgeous and super fun.

You two get the opportunity to feed a three-toed sloth and it’s Matt’s favorite part of the day.

You see some Pygmy marmosets, stingrays, bats, and otters, among many other animals that Matt got cutely excited over.

Then it was on to the classic aquarium area. You two walked through rooms together filled with tanks of fish from around the world. 

Once you're in the area where it’s dark and the fish tanks glow, Matt gets more comfortable and pulls you in by the waist so he can be close to you as you wash the fish swim by.

You tell him how beautiful he looks in the blue light.

“Stop,” he pretends he hates when you compliment him, but loves it. “You’re the most beautiful person in here, baby.”

He leans down for a kiss and his pink lips feel as plush as ever. He pulls you in close; his hands roam your waist and travel down the small of your back to your ass, causing you two to get a little carried away.

You lightly detach from the kiss and warn him that people could be watching.

“They can mind their own business,” he says with a smirk.

Your face flushes at him being surprisingly so bold.

You two finished off the aquarium with a stop at the gift shop on the way out.

“I’ll get you one thing. One,” he holds up his forefinger.

He buys you everything you ask for. Including a baby otter plush that you told him you couldn’t live without.

“Are you hungry? It’s almost dinner time,” he checks his phone.

You agree and you take his car less than ten minutes away to Serious Pizza in Deep Ellum.

You two walk in and Matt points out the pizza chefs tossing giant pizza doughs in the air. Holy shit.

Matt orders one slice of cheese and one pepperoni for you two to share and pulls out his card to pay for you. (Matt paying for everything is just so hot to me.)

You wonder if two slices will be enough for the two of you, but you trust him.

He leads you to a booth at the back of the shop and you sit down.

“What was your favorite part of the aquarium?” He asks you.

You tell him it was the otter exhibit. They just looked so cute swimming around.

You two talk back and forth about your day while you wait. 

“I got a ton of photos of you when you weren’t looking by the way,” he looks at his phone. “I’ll post them on Instagram tomorrow.”

When the pizza gets to you, your eyes widen as slices big enough to be one meal are placed in front of you.

Matt laughs and rubs his hands excitedly before picking up his cheese slice. 

“You take the first bite,” he raises the pizza to your mouth. You bite down and it’s delicious.

You two spend an hour at the pizza shop eating. laughing, and chatting away. Once you two are almost the only people there, Matt reaches across the table to hold your hand in his and laces his legs with yours underneath the table.

Once you're back in his car, the sun having fully gone down, he rubs his hand on your inner thigh again. 

“Want to finish off this date by sleeping over tonight?” He asks.

I'M GONNA B ESICK

[roaldseth]

Need to just let some frustrations out with the “migration to Bluesky” because it’s been 3 days and I can’t dispel this by my usual means.

For the unaware, due to some TOS changes to Twitter, people really have finally started moving over to Bluesky in droves. There’s something like over 18m people now, which I am happy for, however that’s been putting a lot of positivity on my feed that… has rubbing against my grain if only because I’m a plane that got shot down and never came back to be counted amongst the statistics. Me—and probably tons of other small artists/accounts—are finding things just as equally as difficult, discouraging, and despairing as they always have been.

“Create what you like and your people will find you!” “It’s so refreshing to see that so many artists are getting love now because we don’t have to deal with shitty algorithm problems!”—they’re nice sentiments, but once again I’m forced to remember these kind of posts are not for me or regarding me, and they never will be. I’m an undesirable no one will ever care about and it does kinda feel like the “everyone deserves success, except you.”

People always say “create for yourself” but honestly it doesn’t matter if I do or don’t because the result is usually the same either way. “Create for yourself” also doesn’t consider that a point of why I create for myself is the slim hope of finding the people that supposedly will come.

And as someone who was the “weird kid” in school and found solace online because it was easier to make things smaller to then also be “rejected” by it, it really drives home that the problem is me and it always has been me and I really do wish that I was just a living vision of an average person. I certainly think things would be kinder.

It’s ironic too. There was one brief moment in time on Twitter where I felt like I was perhaps alright, had the most fun I’ve ever had, and it was when there was an algorithm and Likes showed up on timelines. But that’s no more anywhere. The rug was yanked out and I was left to go back to thinking “oh right,” and here we are. I worked from bad art to slightly less bad art, and now that I feel like I finally have something somewhat passable as presentable, it still doesn’t work.

And I know 10 years ago my art and writing was shit! I wouldn’t want to have followed me either and there were so many times I wanted to quit while being quite literally depressed! I still look back and think I should have, I should just stopped long ago because I will not be missed, but for some godforsaken reason I am still here and I hate it.

The one holdout that says it all worked out is that I do find people, they are the others like me who have dirt lawns and simply dream of having grass at all, and we find each other. And I know this is true, and honestly my ideal situation, but because it’s not the thing I think I want in my head, I reject it. But in the end I don’t know how to switch over to being okay with what is and not the vision of what I think will make me happy.

[el-ly-sha-give-no-f]

hellooo could you make a picture on Hakim Ziyech that he is wife! reader have an age gap (she is 24 years old) except that it never shocked their family apart from the girl fans of hakim who are jealous so he tries to find n Doesn't matter if she has a pretext to give the reader a bad image of her

"Detest"

Hakim Ziyech x Wife!reader

WORDS : 1689

TW: nothing other than age gap relationship and fluff

Author note: Since many of you have been spaming my inbox for Hakim's fic, here I give you, Istg If you guys didn't read this, I'll hunt you guys one by one, and for anon, thank you for the ideas! I actually didn't read your request till the end so there's gonna be slight difference with your request, sorry ;(

You woke up earlier before Hakim; as usual, it's Saturday today, so that means hakim and you are free. Hakim has no training today, and you don't have any class, so you plan to make a simple breakfast for both of you.

You gently remove his hand from your waist, so you can get up from the bed without waking him up; he told you about how tired he was for this couple of days, so you let him rest for a little bit.

As you succeed in getting up from the bed, you tip-toed till you reach the door room, slowly to avoid making noise. Once you get out of the room, you start making your way to your house kitchen and start making breakfast. Just a simple omelette is enough. Due to Hakim's restricted diet, you can't do a lot with that,

After making the omelette, you go upstairs to your bedroom to check if he is still sleeping or already waking up from his sleep. Surprisingly, he is still sleeping like a baby. He really is tired, and he's not kidding about that. He is not even moving slightly; Hakim sleeps like when you left him earlier, so you go to him to wake him up.

"Hakim, wake up baby" you put your hand on his back as he is sleeping on his stomach, and his head turns sideways. You get close to his ear and start to whisper. "wake up, love; I made us breakfast."

To hakim, your voice is like a melody in his ears.

He started to stir from his sleep. He turns his head to your side and turn to lie on his back, You see him opening his eyes slowly due to the light coming into the room from the window.

"Morning wifey", you heard him, his morning voice always going to be your favourite thing; it's so attractive to you.

"Morning Hubby", you reply. "I make both of us omelette" You let him know. He nods and says thank you to you; Hakim asks you to wait for him because he wants to shower first before breakfast—typical Hakim.

While you wait for him to finish his shower, you sit on the living room couch downstairs and open your Instagram app on your phone.

You scroll through your feed until you find one headline posting enough to make your heart shattered. Picture of you and Hakim that you didn't quite remember when. But it's a picture of you holding his hand, walking around London.

"Hakim Ziyech married a 24 years old girl?" you read the headline title and continue to read the whole paragraph about both of you.

"The Chelsea footballer from Morocco is believed to be married to a girl that far different from his age. We also discovered her name and where she's studying.

Her name is Y/n Y/l/n, and she studies at Royal Holloway College in engineering courses. But that's not the actual point. We're going to talk about the age gap between the two of them, does Hakim's family okay with this? Do you think having an age gap in a relationship is okay? Let us know in the comment," You don't have to wait; the comment buttons on the screen make your hand itchy to tap it.

"Bro, what? You can do better Hakim."

"Hakim, what the heck is this? Can you see that she's not enough for you?"

"CUTE CUTE!! PARENTS!"

"They are both adults; they can think by themself; stop hating on innocent couple just because you guys are jealous!"

"There's nothing wrong with the age gap; at least they're happy and married, not like you; you guys that hate on him are disgusting af!"

"no thought, just weird."

"Hakim can pull every girl he want, but he choose the wrong one."

You don't even realise that your eyes start pooling with tears, but at least some of them are okay with this whole dilemma. You are so occupied reading the comment because it's so addictive to read.

You don't even realise Hakim is already downstairs, just finishing dressing himself up with a white t-shirt and sweatpants. How fast.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder, so you quickly turn off your phone before you turn around. Only to greet by Hakim face portrayed an unpleasant expression.

"Oh, hi you" you try to make everything look fine, but as soon as your tears come out, you know you have messed up.

"Don't. Hi me, why are you crying? What's a wrong sweetheart?" he asks you worriedly.

"Nothing Hakim I'm not crying, I'm yawning" you quickly wiped your tears. This time he proceeded to sit next to you.

"No, I'm not dumb, Y/n, you're crying, don't lie to me, tell me what's wrong?" he asks again, becoming more serious this time.

You just shook your head no; as soon as you wanted to leave the conversation, he grabbed your hand before you could leave the living room.

"Sit down; we talk about this", Hakim instruct. You try to get away from his grip and look at him again, but this time he gives you a stern look. "sit down". You do what he said, and you sit where you sat earlier. But your eyes are looking at the floor.

"Hey, look at me, angel, please" you ignore his call because you don't want him to see you in a state that you're currently trying so hard not to break down in front of him.

Until you feel Hakim hold your chin softly, so he can turn your sight and attention to him. "don't cry, I hate it when I see my wife cry", He tells you. Hakim brings you into hug. You can hear his soft heartbeat on your ears.

"shh, it's okay love, let it all out" you feel his hand rubbing your back smoothly. He waits until you calm down.

Once you stop crying, Hakim suddenly asks.

"can you give me your phone?" you look at him with confusion

"why?"

"just give it, baby, I want to know what makes my wife upset", he said

You no longer want to insist, so you just give him your phone. He takes your phone from your hand, and as you give him, Hakim opens the phone, and your lock screen pops up

A picture of him and you hugging each other while him kissing your crown, and you smile to the camera, you both took the pic when you both visit Dubai for you both Honeymoon

He inserts your password; of course, he knows your password; you're his wife, after all. After he inserts your phone password, the screen displays an Instagram comment section; you see him undo it to see what the posting is about. You saw him read for a while, open the comment section back, and scroll through it.

Unbelieve expression on his face, he turns his head to look at you.

"you know it's all not true, right?" you give him a silent reply and shrug.

"Y/n, please, don't let their words win; please, I'm begging you."

"But what they said is all correct," you said to him while your voice started to crack.

"okay show me, which one on the comment is correct? show me" he gives the phone back to you;

you cover your face with both hands and can't hold back your tears anymore. So you broke down once again.

"come here, Schatje" he opens his arm so you can hug him

"y/n, none of them is true; if only they knew how genuine you are, let's say the words are true; I don't think we will be married and living in the same house right now."

"Yes the age gap may be the problem, but not for us, for them, cause they don't know anything about our love life; it's not a problem for our family and friends. Did you see Ummi mad at me because Im married a beautiful young girl? no right? she even adore you and encourage me to keep you safe, what about your parents, do they mad at you for marrying a guy that older than you? no right?" he feels you nod on his chest so he continue

"There's no problem with us; the media are the ones who bring a problem. Please don't let them ruin our relationship; no please, I don't want that; you also don't want that to happen, right?"

You nod once again.

"Exactly baby, don't stress about it, just know that everything is alright, you're beautiful just the way you are; I don't care what people going to say about me, because I just know that I don't make any mistake in choosing, I fallen in love with a right person, she's a loyal and kind person, her love is unbeatable, her looks, well, her looks are a bonus thing for me, you're beautiful after all."

His words make you want to marry him for a second time.

You look up from his chest to look at him; then he turns his head to look down at you and give you a gentle smile.

"Do you mean all of it?" you ask him

"Of course my love"

"Thank you, Hakim, I'm sorry for being emotional this early in the morning", he wipes your tears with his soft hand.

"my pleasure and you have nothing to be sorry for; it's not your fault", He reassured and kissed you on your forehead.

"I'm hungry", you blurted out of nowhere; he laughed at what you just said and let you go of the hug.

"Okay, let's go; I want to eat my wife's food" He looks at you with a tease.

"It's just omelette Hakim," you tell him.

"But still!" He stands up, pulls you to him, and you both get ready for breakfast and start your day.

Indeed, the feeling unexplainable to become someone's wife, not to mention that your guy is a famous football player that playing with a big team. Very glad that you found Hakim; that's how you know Hakim is going to stick with you for the rest of your life.

Hziyech

Like by Achraf Hakimi, Ben Chilwell, Zakaria Aboukhlal, Jaoa Felix and 970,478 more

Hziyech: I've seen some posting and comments about my wife. I didn't happy with it at all. I just want to say that never in my life that I thought I made a wrong decision. I made a very right decision on marrying her, We don't care about the age gap or have no problem with it as long as we both love each other and our family and friends are pleased about our marriage, so I'm hoping you guys will give us some privacy. Thank you.

-Hakim Ziyech

COMMENT ON THIS POST HAS BEEN LIMITED

Zakaria Aboukhlal: Till Jannah

Ben Chilwell: beautiful marriage

Mason Mount: send my regards to y/n!

Achraf Hakimi: wishing you both the best!

Yourbff: May god ease everything

[nyoomfruits]

“knowing how / if they take their coffee” for max/oscar pretty please 🥺🥺

knowing how/if they take their coffee

When Max wakes up, it takes him a minute to remember where he is. There’s a body wrapped around his, a nose pressed into his neck and an arm slung over his waist, squeezing him close. An adorable little snuffling noise clues him in however, and he turns around slowly, as to not wake the person next to him.

It’s in vain, Oscar blinking at him sleepily when Max faces him. “Hi,” Oscar says, voice sleep rough, the word slurring a little.

“Morning,” Max says. He doesn’t feel nervous, because this is Oscar and nothing with Oscar ever really feels scary. It feels comfortable, familiar. Like slipping on a well worn hoodie.

But still, this is the first time he’s actually slept over, the first time they’ve toed the line from messing around and maybe dating into something more serious, and there’s no way to tell how it’s going to go.

But then Oscar makes a sleepy grumbling noise and buries his face in the crock of Max’s neck, practically flopping himself on top of Max. Max laughs, lets him snuggle close, wraps an arm around him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. He’s not surprised Oscar is not a morning person. He usually isn’t either, but it’s hard to feel particularly grumpy when Oscar’s breath is fanning across his collarbones, his fingers dancing over Max’s side.

Eventually Max manages to coax him out of bed and they make their way into Oscar’s small little kitchen. It’s different from the one in Max’s apartment. That one is big, empty, soulless. Oscar’s kitchen might be small, but it’s clearly very lived in. There’s a bowl of fruit on the kitchen island, a crate of onions on a little shelf, some dirty dishes still in the sink. This is a kitchen that gets used, that gets loved. It feels homey, cozy. Max finds himself thinking he wouldn’t mind spending more time here.

Oscar starts messing around with the coffee machine the second he steps into the kitchen and Max pulls a face. “I uh, I don’t really. I don’t like coffee,” he says. “Or tea, actually.”

“Oh, I know,” Oscar says. He’s not looking at Max, still fiddling with the machine. “But I do. There’s Red Bull in the fridge.” And that’s. He says it very casually, like it’s normal for him to have Red Bull in the fridge. But Max can see the tight line of his shoulders, the slightly pink tint to the tips of his ears,  and he knows for a fact Oscar absolutely hates the taste of Red Bull.

“Oh,” Max says, because, well. It feels like a confession, amidst this fragile little thing they have. Oscar remembered Max didn’t like coffee. Oscar went out of his way to get him a drink he does like. He feels the urge to kiss him, suddenly. Press him against the counter and show him how much that really means to him.

Figuring there’s literally nothing stopping him he reaches forward, tugging at Oscar’s arm until he turns around, and then crowds him into the counter. Oscar lets out a surprised little noise but lets himself be pressed against the marble of the counter tops, lets Max take his face in his hands, lets him kiss him, soft and sweet and a little desperate all at once.

“Thanks,” Max says, when he pulls away.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Oscar says, eyes soft, crinkling at the edges as he smiles at Max. “I could have gotten you the blue one.”

Max laughs, loud and happy. “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

[jjkeremika]

secret

description: erens been gone for three years but sometimes he’ll ask to see mikasa

pairing: eremika, eren x mikasa (aot,snk)

smut: yeah

Mikasa crossed her legs once she felt the vibration travel up her thigh. She knew who the message was from and what it said; everyone who could’ve messaged her was in the meeting room apart from one person.

The one on the run.

He’d disappeared years ago, becoming search priority number one like usual, then dropping to priority zero not before long. Declared public enemy number one. Humanity’s last hope renamed to humanity’s downfall.

She knew what the text message would hold. An address. A remote site within the walls, hidden away from daylight and watchful eyes.

She walked out of the building with Jean and Armin, the guilt gnawing at her insides like a hungry animal. She knew she shouldn’t hold onto this information, this meeting place with the world’s enemy. She knew she should hand it over, tell them to plan an ambush and capture him before it’s too late. Turn away when they scroll upwards and see the onslaught of previous rendezvous locations. Start running when the questions are directed towards her.

Jean asked what her plans for the night were. Mikasa felt burdened when she lied about volunteering in the far districts and had to rush away.

She knew she should’ve pulled out the communication device and exposed the message. Exposed the numerous messages over the years, heavy on one side with addresses and little else, no times or requests or questions or hellos or goodbyes. Only weighted expectations.

Ones she filled every time.

It’s not like other soldiers don’t do something similar, she tried to reason with herself. Blow off the steam somehow. She’s humanity’s second strongest soldier, she needs some kind of outlet right? She can’t be the best if she’s bogged down all the damn time. She’s doing humanity a favor, really.

Sure, maybe not the best person to do it with, but it’s not like they really discuss anything.

Mikasa arrived at the building first, having walked for the past thirty minutes to avoid drawing attention to her ODM gear.

She recognized the building; they’ve met here before. She walked around the building to the side door and knocked—silent, expected. She entered—unlocked, expected.

It was a small standard room, rented out like a back-alley inn for quick money. Hush payments, no questions asked. It worked for Eren’s situation.

She removed the ODM gear and carefully placed it on the chair, breathing deeply at the relief of lifted weight. If only the chains that shackled her to this situation had been lifted too. She’d have felt so light.

She stared out the window watching the sun set below the wall when the door opened, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent room.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologized insincerely, closing the door behind him and immediately facing her. She felt a weight drop in her stomach at the sound of his voice. Rougher than before, like he didn’t use it anymore.

He toed his shoes off at the door and started to walk over, confident strides defining each step towards her, leaving little space between. He smirked at her smugly, all knowing.

“And for not texting in a while.” He said it like he was late home for dinner one night, an unplanned one-off event where the dutiful husband should’ve told his loyal wife about the delay; like it was a rare scenario for their daily lives.

She hated this internal tug towards him, the feeling that if she let go she’d fall right into his arms, right into this dream of a perfect house life, a normal life for their very abnormal messed up lives. Resistance was all she had, but he made that fantasy so damn enticing.

Eren stopped before her, holding his arms out. “Did you miss me?”

The weight that had dropped had now dissipated like electricity in her pelvis, sparking something, like a live wire in a puddle of gasoline.

Mikasa turned around and crossed her arms, making abrupt eye contact with herself in the mirror. She had her reasons for dissatisfaction, his leaving with little explanation only to then spontaneously be overwhelmed with a fervent desire to see and feel her being one. He couldn’t just show up whenever he felt like it, ask for her then leave before dawn, only to do it again weeks later without question.

Well… he could, and he does. But she won’t let it be easy and immediate.

Eren stepped up behind her, a pitiful pout on his lips, and rested his chin against her shoulder. “I bet you did.” He wrapped his arms around her own. “I bet you missed my arms around you,” he said into her neck, smirking because he could feel the goosebumps rising on the skin in response, could feel her tightening the muscles in her forearms and back and neck in response.

His pupils glimpsed at hers through the mirror from the awkward position against her neck. “Missed my hands on you.” One hand traced up her arm, caressing up her shoulder down her sternum to her naval. She closed her eyes and felt each point of connection between them like the tip of a live wire, lighting up a body map with strikes of lightning and sucking air out of her lungs.

“Missed my fingers touching you.” Eren’s mouth was just behind Mikasa’s ear, and one hand dropped to her back hip bone, rubbing circles at the skin between her shirt and her pants, just above her butt, moving lower with each cycle. “Missed my fingers inside you.”

She involuntarily gasped and Eren smiled widely, arrogantly. She could feel it against the fine hairs on the back of her neck. He pressed his front against her and took the opportunity to cup her breast firmly. She relaxed back into him, mouth agape, an airless gasp escaping her lungs.

“You wish,” she muttered, wanting to hear him say how badly he missed that too. She eyed him through the mirror, trying to maintain strength but knowing he elicited weakness.

He moved the hand from her hip to just below her naval right above her pelvis, fingers just curling to where her heart was pumping blood. “You’re right,” he whispered against her neck and lowered his hand and curled his fingers inward, dropping it to the gap between her legs, “I do.” He tightened his grasp on her boob. “I do so badly.”

A light ahh escaped her mouth as Eren pressed his fingers up between her legs into the fabric. He started rubbing lightly, and her hips involuntarily moved with the friction. He pressed his hips forward into her back and ass. “Can’t you feel how desperate I am for you?”

She could feel his hard cock underneath the coarse fabric as he pressed himself deeper into her. “I’ve missed you so bad.” She released a huffy breath as his finger rubbed against the right spot. She loved when he needed her, when he was so very desperate for her, and he knew it. “I want you so bad.” But she wasn’t ready to stop teasing him yet, she couldn’t. He hadn’t done enough to deserve it yet.

Mikasa softly reluctantly cried out as Eren removed his hands from her crotch. He forcibly turned her around, then steadied her with his fingers firmly dug into her hips. Her hands collected on his broad chest, solid and firm and soft under her touch.

Eren immediately started sloppily kissing up and down her neck, a clash of teeth and tongue and saliva and it should be gross but its sending millions of tingles to all the right places. She bared her neck out for him, giving him more room, more access, to make her feel even more. That’s all that was on her mind: more more more.

“Tell me, Mikasa…” The way he said her name, like each syllable was equally important, like it was hot honey dripping from a hot spoon into the most delicious cup of hot tea—it caused bubbling sensations to travel down her spine, an ease to settle in her stomach that made her feel at home. “Tell me you want me.”

One hand sat firmly at her hip while the other struggled to undo the zipper. The whisper against her neck sent a shiver throughout her body, sent heat to her cheeks and made her knees weaken slightly.

“Eren,” she responded lamely, breathlessly. His name tasted foreign on her tongue, but they both knew it will re-adapt to her mouth the more she says it, dance on her tongue better the longer the night goes on.

He lifted his head up, peeled his lips off her skin and made eye contact, fighting the urge to pin her between the mirror and himself.

The look in his eyes… dark yet innocent, heavy and burdened yet in love. The games and resistance before felt so trivial now.

“Mikasa…” He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, letting the warm palm of his hand caress her cheek, leaving a trail of hot pink skin from the touch. Her name was a melody leaving his lips, soothing all past injuries, slowly becoming more quiet and unplayed the longer he’s away.

She ignored the frown lines and heavy bags under his eyes, hoping that at least for tonight, she can give him the very best remedy.

One hand rose from his chest and firmly settled into his hair, grabbing the long dark brown strands and intertwining her fingers. Mikasa’s other hand slipped under the fabric of his shirt and climbed up the ridges of his abs to his chest, letting it rest above his heart.

Both of Eren’s hands had found themselves around her waist and pulled her in, effectively closing the distance between their bodies. His hard erection pressed against her front, his nose burrowing into her neck.

“Please,” he whispered into her skin, his humid breath condensating immediately. He started to press soft kisses to the exposed flesh. “I need my princess.”

Usually she hated the term and she absolutely despised when the regiment tossed it around like a synonym for weakling, but there was something in the way Eren said it, a level of softness and neediness that set the word apart from others, set her above the rest. Being his princess meant being something different entirely. Not being needed, but certainly never not wanted.

The moan she released was half in response to the pet name and half in response to his lips connecting to the softest spot of her neck, just above the dip between the collarbones.

The grip on his hair tightened and her breath sped up as Eren’s hands frantically tugged at the buttons on her shirt, unbuttoning half before ripping the rest off in lazy frustration.

His mouth immediately made its way down her chest, pressing kisses with salivary remnants all over the exposed skin of her breasts. He let his tongue and lips roam all over the soft bouncy flesh as his hands roamed her torso. She bent her back to accentuate her chest on his tongue.

“Take this stupid thing off,” she ordered quickly, tugging on the shirt he always wore.

Eren pulled away and did as he was told as Mikasa’s hands scattered to her back as she struggled to unclasp the bra that kept her chest so tightly caged in. The bra was off and on the floor by the time Eren had pulled his shirt over his head, and his eyes were locked onto her breasts not a second later.

Eren groaned at the sight; her chest was always his favorite. Voluptuous and bouncy and forgiving. He started to palm his hard-on through the rough fabric of his pants.

Mikasa cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Getting needy, huh?” she asked redundantly. She started to slowly sink to her knees, raising her hands to Eren’s knees and caressing up to his hips. Mikasa glanced up at Eren once her head was just in front of the erection he was palming. “Nuh-uh,” she tisked, shaking her hand. She grabbed his wrist and moved it away from the tented fabric. “No touching.”

She quickly undid the pants button and both of them were pulling down the fabric together until his red cock popped out, eager to taste the air.

Mikasa licked her lips and used her thumb to wipe some of the spit away, making eye contact with Eren the entire time, whose eyes were heavy and hooded with desire. He looked down at her and subconsciously pushed his hips out, silently begging for her to take him all in her mouth already.

Well she got the hint, and after gently rubbing her hand up and down the shaft briefly, she brought her lips to the tip and wrapped her lips around it.

She hollowed out her cheeks and sucked rhythmically, changing the length she covered with her lips and alternating the position of her tongue. Eren bit his lip so hard blood could’ve come out. Mikasa looked up at him like she’d suck that too.

His hands were clasped in her hair and his mouth was parted as his hips chased her lips. The ghost of the wet contact stayed on the skin and sent soft rolls of pleasure up his body, building up the desire for more. He chased after her mouth, hoping to shove all of his cock down the wet warmth of her throat.

Tears formed in the edges of her eyes as his cock pushed against the back of her throat. She continued to suck and tug and lick at the sensitive skin, letting the myriad of noises and praises he released act as cheers and encores. His voice carried her name so thickly when she sucked him off, like he was choking on it the same way she choked on him.

She continued to suck on his cock when the vein throbbed and he released his load into her mouth. “So good with your mouth,” he mumbled to himself as she swallowed cleanly, smirking at the whiny whimper he released when he came. “So, so good.”

Eren roughly yanked on Mikasa’s hair to pull her to her feet, signaling for her to stand in front of him again. Once she stood up, he forced her backwards until she was trapped between the mirror and him.

He pulled down roughly on her hair with one hand and let the other hand drop to her hip. Her mouth was open in shock as a surprised gasp slipped out. “God how I’ve missed that mouth,” he muttered more to himself and dropped his hand from her hip even lower to her crotch.

He kissed her as soon as she made eye contact, then curled his fingers upright and in between her legs. Eren altered the weight of the fingers against her crotch and rubbed carefully, feeling himself grow hard as his tongue slid against hers while his fingers searched through fabric for her clit.

He lifted his hand slightly and slipped it between the waistband of the pants and her bare skin, quickly adjusting to the skin contact and finding a new rhythm.

Mikasa bent her knees slightly to increase the pressure. Her mouth was open and short bursts of air puffed out as his fingers played with her clit and moist lips.

Eren tucked his hand down awkwardly and started to curl two fingers towards her clit. He tugged on her hair at the moment he pressed against her clit to elicit out breathless gasps and more drops of fluid, causing his fingers to start making a squelching noise with each movement.

He yanked on her hair again, causing her chin to lift up and her mouth to open wider with a loud “Ah!” He pulled his fingers out of her waistband and lifted them to her mouth, putting three inside. She closed her mouth obediently around them and started sucking, her mouth puckering at the sour taste of herself.

Eren’s pupils were so dilated his eyes were dark as he watched her suck on his fingers, evoking a series of dick twitches that reminded him just how hard he was, just how badly he needed her to get off.

“Take your pants off,” he ordered simultaneously, watching Mikasa suck on his fingers with dilated pupils. She sucked on his fingers just as diligently as she sucked on his cock and started unbuttoning and unzipping her own pants, shaking the fabric from her thighs and stepping out of them easily.

Before she knew it her naked body was pressed against the cold mirror again. The hand clasped in her hair had moved to her lower back, holding her close to his body, where she could feel the new erection growing eagerly.

Eren replaced the fingers in her mouth with his tongue. She kissed him headily, like somehow she could make up for lost time, while his licked-up fingers made the trail back to her now exposed cunt. Without warning he slipped two fingers inside, shoving his tongue deeper down her throat when she gasped, preventing her from making any form of noise. The only noise being the sound of fluid displaced with each push in and pull out of his fingers.

Mikasa let her knees collapse slightly as she let herself be pinned between the mirror and Eren’s body. She practically sat on his fingers as he shoved them in and out of her, the noise more loud and obscene than the sound of their tongues smacking together, than the sound of the mirror rocking against the wall as Mikasa’s body recoiled with each pulse of his fingers.

She tilted her head back to break the kiss, short of gasping for air as her head became light, as her mind blanked with nothing but the thought of Eren Eren Eren.

He was already breathing heavily from having come once, and now he was breathing heavily to make up for whenever his breath stopped, whenever he silenced his lungs so he could clearly hear the gasps and whines fall from her free lips.

But she was still far too quiet for his liking.

The squelch squelch squelch sounds increased in frequency and amplitude as Eren sped up the movement of his fingers, letting his hand soak up and prune with the discharge, coaxing out various moans from her that only sucked the air out of his lungs more.

Mikasa loudly squealed out as Eren blindly jabbed inside her vagina, poking and curling his fingers inside around the spot that made her scream. Desperate to hear how loud she could be.

“St-, Eren, wait! Stop!” she cried out, struggling to find his wrist to pull his fingers out. He paused, leaving his fingers inside, curling the tips ever so slightly, relishing the touch of her smooth velvet insides against the rough fingertips.

She gasped when she finally found his wrist and pulled ever so slightly on it, signaling for him to pull out and step away. He did, and the absence was felt immediately. The emptiness inside she was so familiar with that would sit until their next meeting.

He took a step back from her to let her collect her composure. As soon as she was solid on two legs again, her hand reached back out for Eren’s hard cock. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, eyes wanting, “please. Fuck me with this,” she roughly squeezed his cock, smirking when Eren’s eyes squeezed shut and his face twisted in pleasant surprise, “until I can’t walk anymore. Until I can’t even stand.”

[becquerel]

dark souls/ds3 narrative that despises the player for playing vs homestuck postcanon narrative that despises the reader for reading. my favorite comparison for how to do it in a way that works vs how to do it in a way that doesn't.

the hatred dark souls's narrative has for the player isn't founded out of the hatred from the game's makers, in fact they quite love the game they make and for people to play it, but out of a desperate plea from the world within to stop its suffering, to stop dragging it on any longer. this resounds hardest in ds3 where the game was made incidentally by its creators out of a desire to finish a cult classic trilogy, and the theme of "forced to live despite the suffering it feels" is pressed harder, and you really feel it.

you know deep down inside as you walk through a darkened anor londo that all of this is your fault for wanting to see more from a world barely hanging on. you caused the pontiff and you caused aldrich because you couldn't simply let go and let the world succumb to the dark it wanted. you have to be the one to snuff out the last dregs of life in the empty world, just so you might finally set it free. even the last boss of the series takes place in an empty wasteland, just you and a single slave at the end of the world, fighting over the last remnants of the world that once was. the world of ds3 is alive and its goal is begging you to stop its suffering.

the postcanon of homestuck on the other hand has the same snark homestuck has always had, though much less jaunty and with more pessimism than ever before. it laughs at the reader for wanting a continuation. and it works! it does work for some of the story within the epilogues. the beginning in particular, where you know the story will go nowhere, and you are simply forced to watch as these characters become more and more bastardized.

The fault that happens is that postcanon goes too far. it forgets why people read homestuck in the first place. even in dark souls, there's still these shining moments of kindness from the world. these tiny moments that make you quietly wonder if it really is worth it to continue the suffering if it means you could do something like helping the painter continue her work to give the people of her world somewhere to escape to.

homestuck's postcanon ignores this in favor of pushing toward a narrative that mocks the reader for reading, simultaneously jeering for even opening the pages, while also taunting the reader when ignoring it. it begs to be read and paid close attention to while throwing sand in the eyes of anyone who does read it. none of the characters are who they once were, instead now caricatures of who the fandom thought they were, going for overused tropes in a bid at metanarrative commentary, but falling flat when a reader would eventually become ambivalent to the taunting, and true apathy toward the comic's postcanon took hold. the narrative relevance of homestuck's epilogues and postcanon only matter as much as a reader cares to actually read them.

a narrative that hates the audience is something that must be toed very carefully, as it will either make or break the story being told.

[vermakesthings]

Freya Nuthri

Physical description:

First, my pfp (main blog) is her as well as can be made in the picrew in my bio. She typically wears some kind of fruit, berry, etc. as earrings (not plastic, literally the plant). Her hair is straight and smooth, typically cut to her shoulder blades. She wears dresses usually, that either go down to her ankles or knees, and are either sleeveless or sleeves that stop at the elbows. Her hair is almost never adorned with anything more than braids, if that. Usually she let's it flow free. She is 5'9", or 175 cm. She never wears high heels, usually wearing open toed slip on black shoes. She wears anklets and bracelets almost all the time, though no rings. She does wear a necklace at all times, one Liam forged, made from golden chain with a crystal at the end of it, inside which contains the last of the True Sun's light, trapped within in stasis (yes its littereraly just a silmaril but less bright and no one swore a death oath over it please don't sue me).

She/her, bisexual.

Bubbly and expressive, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who can spend any amount of time with her and not have both come out laughing. Witty, every joke made is answered with another.

Does not handle loneliness well at all. She quickly becomes exhausted and depressive within only a few weeks of living alone (remember these are immortal characters and at any point I'm talking about Freya she's anywhere between a few centuries to a few millenia old. A few weeks is not a lot) had she never married, she'd have lived with her siblings her whole life (which she kinda does anyways given how royalty works but whatever).

Her greatest fear is losing something forever. Even the smaller joys she fears for. She was around even before the Blessed Years, as a Nuthri, and remembers that whole age; the idea that the joys of the Blessed Years were not permement had never crossed her mind, and she was first introduced to the concept with her sisters murder. After the fall of the Blessed Years, she became terrified of losing what she had: she already lost Nerquam, then Aegir went to his limbo, then she was doomed to separation from society, then she had a child with Liam who she got to watch die as an infant, and so on. Liam at that point in time was her only real anchor. Even aside from people she is hyper protective of what she owns and what she makes.

Her Skill is weaving, though it was almost music; she was just as good at and loved both equally. Nerquam, however, chose music, so she went with Weaving.

Loves the idea of reading, hates actually sitting down with a book, and mostly only does so when someone (Liam usually) is reading with her.