#to stumble onto conversations I will refuse to have with them

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

@roboticutie

Okay so I'm not doing this on someone else's post because I am fully aware that this is conspiracy talk that is largely unhelpful to discuss, but here's the history I'm referencing:

Historically, local and federal law enforcement have been pervasive in their intrusion into civil rights communities, and specifically among those of us who grew up in these communities, we are aware of the use of sex and relationships to do this.

The sexual "permissiveness" [relative to cultural/hegemonic norms] of these movements means LEOs often perceive "fucking activist women" as an easy way to go under cover. Some even had children with women they were investigating. We know for a fact through several recent (in the past decade or so) court rulings that this still regularly occurs.

This in no way means that if you are an activist someone is sending a spook out to honeypot you. But the infosec of activist communities is often the most lax with people we share ourselves with, and many of these officers spent years integrating themselves into the lives and beds of their targets.

I've had family members on watchlists my whole life and am VERY aware of my place in the network of activism I'm involved with, which is to say: central enough to get close but not so central that I take the same precautions as others who may be doing similar work. This means I am not a particularly high risk for this stuff, but I also live in an area where military and government contract work is the norm for almost anyone with any stability.

The government can buy a lot of loyalty in a community that way.

Being me, I regularly go fuck around with other promiscuous queers of my generation, and some of them are upfront with me about where they work and what they do for a living [in the way that people who work in privacy related fields often do] which means I know for a fact that I have fucked at least a couple of spooks in my time.

Why does this matter if they're fucking me for fun and not business?

Because their loyalty is still with people invested in undermining my work. I know it. They know it. And the deal is that we can fuck if no one ever ever talks about work. This is easy for me. It....isn't always for them. And sometimes I wonder about the why of it. Sometimes I wonder what makes a person who works for local or national intelligence groups seek out, fuck, and emotionally empathize with a queer anarchist who won't share anything about his life with them.

I suspect the most likely answer is "I'm very good at making people feel seen and heard and people who work in intelligence are often very drawn to that capacity" but I am painfully aware from the personal experiences of some of my own loved ones that it COULD be because they're hoping I'll eventually let down enough of my guard to learn something from me that I wouldn't otherwise share with them.

Personally, I find that very funny, because I have nothing important to be learned from me.

The point here btw isn't "start getting paranoid about who you fuck" because lord knows that won't help anything. The point here is "remember that every single person you interact with is human with their own motivations and needs, and sometimes those won't align with yours even when you like or trust someone enough to fuck them."

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[phant0mth1ef]

are we still friends? can we be friends? are we still friends? i’ve got to… know. (pt. 2 to the feeling that i’m losing her, forever). part 3

to say you didn’t expect to see a pair of bright red eyes staring you down as you walked into the facility was an understatement, you hadn’t made eye contact with those eyes in over a year, and you flinched the moment you realized just who you were looking at.

you’d stumbled into inasa once you snapped out of your daze, catching yourself quickly as your cap hit the floor, the boy using his wind in order to float it back onto your head.

“thank you.” you mumbled before going to take your spot in line, coincidentally right next to your former best friend.

“why haven’t you called me?!” so now he wants to begin a conversation.

“been busy.” you shrugged, refusing to even look at him because you knew you’d start crying the moment you met his eyes again.

“okay? you could’ve texted me or some shit!”

“my phone stopped working.” you were competing for the title of nonchalant final boss at this point with how casual you were being.

“bullshit. i saw you with it at the exam! just tell me why you’re avoiding me like the plague.” it may not have looked like it, but bakugou was scared out of his mind. you’d changed since the licensing exam, he could sense it in the way you carried yourself. you were being cold.

“what the hell happened to you?? you used to always call me, always text me. what happened?” did he seriously not know what happened?

“you happened.” and that was all you were able to say before the proctors for the training session entered the room, quickly commanding you all to stand in line as your face changed to a softer expression.

it was a casual sparring session, so why were you sending rocks the size of boulders his way? his mind was too clouded to even dodge them effectively, the words you said still playing out in his mind as he mindlessly sent out explosive attacks.

you’d tried to pack up as quickly as possible afterwards to avoid a confrontation with your former best friend, but you heard the clanking of his boots hitting the ground and just let out a sigh.

“what?” you snapped.

“what me? what you!” he was starting to get angry, the way he would get angry back in middle school.

“what about me?! you’re also at fault here. i was the one always trying to get in contact with you! i just grew up and realized that if you wanted to, you would.” you begun to shove all your things into your duffel bag, accidentally smashing your fist into the ground.

“what the hell does that even mean?! you’re the one who stopped calling me outta nowhere. i didn’t tell you to do that.”

“don’t you get it?! i was the one always calling!” you shoved your bag to the floor as you stood up straight, your voice getting strained as you finally made eye contact with bakugou.

“i was the one who always had to start talking to you first! it made me feel like a nuisance. and then one day i hear you telling your new friends that you think i’m annoying? like what the fuck, katsuki. none of this is my fault. if you’d just been a man and picked up the phone, this could’ve been avoided.” you had a habit of crying once you got frustrated, so naturally the tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

he didn’t have any words, letting out a scoff as you picked up your bag and shoulder checked him on your way out, sending him stumbling back as he just stared at the ghost of your presence.

later that night he sat in his dorm room, his finger hovering over your contact but never once pressing on it, unsure of what he’d even say if you decided to pick up.

“i mean how the hell am i supposed to apologize? she’s so confusing. like damn sorry i called you annoying but it isn’t even that big of a deal anymore that was months ago!” bakugou was ranting to his little group of friends that were huddled on his floor, suprised that the boy would even invite them, let alone drone on about his issues with the friend that none of them even knew about.

“so you called her annoying but you didn’t know she was listening?” mina spoke up.

“yes but that was months ago! i don’t even know how to talk to her anymore because she won’t listen to me.” he sprawled flat on his bed.

“sounds like you’ve dug yourself a deep hole bakugou.” kirishima said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

meanwhile, back at shiketsu, your group was currently huddled in camie’s dorm, and you sat on the bed while they formed a circle around you.

“i don’t know who he thinks he is but i am not going to beg for him to be my friend, i am not going to be as pathetic as i used to be!” slow teardrops fell from your eyes as you recalled back in middle school when bakugou found more friends and slowly begun to leave you behind.

“i know, and i get that, but you should at least try to give him a chance. he’s making an effort.” she tossed you your phone that was sitting on the desk, a notification on the lock screen.

[kats 💥🫂]

Meet me at the spot tomorrow. Please. 4 PM.

tags; @riverozada @lupitalove @msjaeger @aintseennothinyet @wendeeeee ask and you shall receive sorry if its kinda bad 😢😢

[courtofcravings]

Everyone Knew (2)

Cassian x Reader

After realizing you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, a night out at the bar takes an unexpected turn when unresolved feelings become the topic of the night.

Mutual pinning, Slight angst, Fluff Warnings: Drinking, border line nswf (but only make out) Completed Series - Read part 1 here

The cold night air hit your face as soon as you stepped outside, biting at your skin, but you didn’t care. You slid down against the brick wall, your legs giving way as you collapsed onto the ground. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes, but you forced them down. The burn of his lips still lingered on your skin, refusing to fade, even in the frosty night air.

“Y/N? I thought it was you walking outside. Where’s Cass?” Rhysand’s voice cut through the air above you. You hadn’t even realized the highlord was here tonight. A wave of mortification hit you, and you wondered if he’d noticed what you’d just been up to with his commander.

“Didn’t think there was a chance he was peeling off you,” he added, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity.  That answers that, you thought bitterly.

“He’s inside,” you murmured, your voice shaky. “I’m just… getting some air.” You tried to sound unaffected, but the words wavered.

You hoped Rhysand hadn’t noticed, but the sound of footsteps and rustling clothes told you he was lowering himself beside you.

“Rhys, I’m not in the right mind for a conversation,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re upset. I get it,” Rhysand replied, his voice gentle, yet filled with an understanding you hadn’t expected. “I mean, I don’t. Not from your perspective.” he added.

“Please, do take a seat.” You sarcastically mumbled.

“Feyre was pissed too. Rightfully so, after I kept it from her,” Rhysand said, leaning back against the wall. A small, reminiscent smile tugged at his lips, as though recalling an old memory. “It was terrifying. Days—literal days—of her refusing to even acknowledge my existence.”

You blinked, brows knitting in confusion as you tried to process his words. What was he talking about?

“She forgave me in the end.” Rhysand shrugged, brushing a hand casually through his dark hair. “It helped that she was already in love with me. Harder to stay mad at someone when you’re halfway gone for them.”

“Feyre…?” you echoed slowly, trying to piece together what he was saying. “Wait wha—”

“We all knew, for a while now. I hope you aren’t too mad at us. We did tell him he had to tell you everything—I mean he saw the reaction Feyre had firsthand. He really has no one to blame but himself, considering how many years he knew and kept it from—”

“Years—Rhys, what are you talking about?” You cut him off, your voice sharp and laced with unease. The words hung in the air, your heart hammering as you waited—hoped—for him to start making sense.

Rhysand blinked, his expression shifting as realization dawned. Slowly, his hand flew to his mouth, eyes widening. “Have you… have you not talked to Cassian yet?”

Before you could respond, the door beside Rhys flew open with a sudden burst, slamming against the wall.

“Y/n!?” Cassian’s voice rang out, rough and hurried. He stumbled out of the building, his eyes scanning frantically—searching—until they landed on you.

“Rhys, scram. Now.”

The High Lord didn’t need to be told twice. With a muttered grumble about manners and bastard brothers, Rhys was on his feet and disappearing through the door, leaving the two of you alone. Under any other circumstances, you might have laughed. But there was no humor to be found—not with the sheer anger burning in Cassian’s eyes.

“I’d like to be alone,” you stated, darting your eyes away from him.

“You promised,” Cassian shot back, his tone rough but pleading. “You promised you’d stop running from me.” His wings flared out behind him, broad and imposing, casting a shadow over you as he moved closer.

“That’s not what I promised,” you countered, your words shaky but defiant.

“Then tell me what’s bothering you. Tell me what made you—” He paused, his voice faltering like the words had caught in his throat. And suddenly, the anger was gone, replaced by something far more raw.

Cassian sank to his knees in front of you, his towering form shrinking as he looked up, the vulnerability in his gaze hitting you harder than any words could. His hands hovered uncertainly, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“You promised,” he whispered this time, softer, like he wasn’t sure you’d keep your word. And it made your heart ache, because this—this—was Cassian laid bare, desperate and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. 

Throwing your head back against the wall, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. “I couldn’t go any further, Cass.”

“Why?” he pushed softly, hesitating before placing both hands on your bare knees. His warmth seeped through your skin, though the gesture was cautious—like he feared you might pull away. “Cauldron, you’re freezing,” he grumbled, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your legs as though trying to coax the cold away. “Azriel and Nesta stopped me inside. Didn’t realize how long they’d kept me.”

“I’m fine. Really.” The words felt hollow, unconvincing even to you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to swat his hands away—not when your body, traitorous as ever, still craved his touch.

“Tell me why you ran, Y/n.” Cassian urged again, heavy with concern.

“Why?” you echoed. Your thoughts swirled in chaotic loops. Cassian’s hands tightened, just slightly, his grip grounding yet gentle, anchoring you in place without holding you captive.

“You might be interested in a fun night, Cass, but I don’t think I can ever go back if we—” Your voice faltered, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Cauldron, I’m already going to be thinking about your lips on me for days, and we haven’t even kissed. How am I supposed to go back to just being your friend? This is your problem. You never think–”

“And you never shut up,” he interrupted.

“Excuse me?” you shot back, your head jerking up to glare at him.

“It’s like your mind never stops,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering as he leaned closer. “Always racing with thoughts, but it never occurred to you that I might not want to go back, either?”

His words paralysed you. The air between you stilled, thick with tension. The usual playfulness in his eyes was replaced by something else—something raw.

“Don’t tease me,” you whispered. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, trying to create some distance between you, a barrier you desperately needed.

His hands fell from your knees to his sides as he stood, frustration radiating from him. “Y/n,” he whined, dragging his hands over his face. “What kind of person do you take me for? Some disrespectful ass? Is that how you’ve seen me all these years?”

“Of course not!” you snapped, your confusion rising to meet his anger. “I never said that–”

“But clearly you think it,” he shot back, his voice rising as his hands flew up in exasperation.

“Clearly, I think the world of you!” You stood abruptly, stomping your foot against the ground in sheer frustration. “You hear that I—I love you, and somehow you twist that into me thinking negatively of you? This is exactly what I mean! You don’t—”

“And you still aren’t listening to me!” Cassian roared, the shout taking you by surprise, leaving you stunned into silence. Cassian had never shouted at you, not like this. “It’s like you’re being purposefully naive!” he bit out, his hands raking through his hair, gripping so hard you thought he might tear at it.

“Naive!?” you snapped, disbelief coloring your voice.

“Yes, naive!” Cassian’s voice was sharp as he stepped closer. “You get so caught up in your own damned worries, and normally—I think it’s cute watching you overthink the smallest things. But Cauldron above, this?” He shook his head, his voice hoarse with emotion. “This is hurtful.”

The words hit you like a slap, but Cassian wasn’t finished. He took another step forward, closing the space between you to mere breaths. “I’ve been in love with you for so long now, I can hardly remember a time when I wasn’t.”

“What?” Your breath caught in your chest, your heart lurching violently.

But Cassian didn’t seem to hear you, too lost in the storm of his own emotions. “I’ve tried everything. Flowers, gifts, flirting…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your mind reeled. The gifts—books perfectly suited to your tastes, plants he’d brought you decorated your room with, weapons he’d selected with such care for you to use in battle.

All things you’d thought were gestures of friendship, acts of platonic love. The flirting you had brushed off as lighthearted banter, that he never truly meant in any way that mattered.

“Cass—I didn’t realize th—” you stammered, but he wasn’t listening, his frustration boiling over.

“I don’t want to go back!” His voice thundered, the rawness of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “I don’t want to pretend I didn’t hear you say the exact words I’ve been feeling for years. I don’t want to pretend I don’t love you—fuck, Y/n!”

He slammed his hand into the wall beside your head. Not to scare you—you knew that instinctively. It was as if he needed the wall to keep himself upright, as if the weight of his confession was too much to bear. 

“You’re my mate—” His voice dropped to a soft whisper, the crack in it breaking something inside you. “I–I don’t want to pretend we’re just friends anymore.”

Your eyes widened. The words he’d spoken repeating in a loop in your head: You’re my mate.

“And if you want to reject me. I would endure that for you.” Cassian took a shaky breath, his voice now quieter, but no less intense. “But stop acting for one damn minute like there’s a version of me that could ever not love you. That could ever go back to waiting for you to love me as I do you.”

“Cassian,” you whispered, barely able to form the question. “Mates?”

Everything clicked. It wasn’t just the deep love you’d always felt for him, but the connection. The bond, the pull, the certainty that surged inside you when he spoke. Everything he’d said, everything you’d felt, suddenly made sense. “You’re my mate.”

Cassian cursed under his breath, pacing away for a moment, clearly trying to regain his composure. “I wasn’t supposed to—damn it,” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Wasn’t supposed to tell you like this.”

You blinked, your mind still spinning through memories and conversations. “Earlier, you mocked me… about everyone knowing.” you said, barely above a whisper, yet stern.

Cassian’s eyes softened, his gaze shifting to something vulnerable. “Everyone knew,” he confirmed, his voice almost childlike, as though he was bracing himself for a reprimand. He winced, “Except you.”

The words Rhysand had said to you earlier echoed in your mind: We all knew, for a while now. 

“Rhysand said you’ve known for years,” you continued, your emotions swirling in conflicting directions—anger, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. “Years, Cassian?”

He flinched, eyes flashing with something dark. “He told you?” he sneered, the edge of his voice sharp.

“Well, you obviously weren’t going to,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “He didn’t actually tell me—he thought you already had. I didn’t understand the meaning of his words until now.”

“I was hoping you’d feel it,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost defeated. “Something, at least. For me.”

In that moment, the truth settled over you—You weren’t angry with Cassian. You couldn’t be, not when the feelings you had tried so hard to deny were so much the same as his. Not when you realized just how deeply he had always felt for you, how much of himself he had given, even if it wasn’t always clear to you. 

His words, his actions—all of it now made sense, the gifts, the teasing, the way he had always been there for you. The pieces clicked into place, revealing a truth that you had been blind to, unwilling to see.

“You coward,” you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. But Cassian didn’t seem to notice the lightness in your tone. His eyes remained shut, refusing to meet yours, his posture stiff with tension, as if he was still waiting for further reprimand from you.

You shifted closer, your fingers brushing gently against the solid muscle of his chest. You felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and the sensation sent a thrill racing through you. The bond between you two seemed to hum quietly beneath your skin, a quiet pulse.

“A bit of a hypocrite?” he muttered, his voice rough as he took your hand in his, rubbing it gently like he couldn’t quite control his touch.

You tilted your head, catching his eye for a moment. “Oh? Says the one who made me promise not to keep things like this from him?”

He sighed, the weight of his exhaustion settling into his shoulders, his wings drooping behind him as though the very air had become too heavy to bear. His voice, when it came, was softer than you expected, soaked in regret. “I couldn’t bear you avoiding me.” The ache in his tone twisted something deep inside you. 

You reached out, your fingers brushing gently against his chin, guiding his face toward you with a tenderness that belied the ache in your chest. He hesitated, but after a long beat, his eyes fluttered open—hazel depths flooded with longing, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart stutter in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Cass…”

“I don’t want to go back, Y/n.” He leaned into your touch, his presence overwhelming, the space between you shrinking until his breath brushed against your lips. His eyes held yours, unflinching, as though they were a silent promise. “I meant what I said,” 

“Every touch, every look, every word tonight… None of it was a joke to me. I’ve wanted this—you—for so long.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “So if you think I’ll pretend I didn’t hear…” He paused, his lips curving into a small but dangerous smile. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Warmth flooded your cheeks, the coldness of the night melting away. The closeness of his face, the way his presence filled every corner of the space between you, made the air feel electric. Your skin seemed to remember the feeling of his mouth on your neck, the heat of his touch. How there was no barrier left. 

“You didn’t try everything,” you whispered, your voice low, teasing as your hands trailed over his chest, savoring the feel of his body beneath your fingertips, a shiver of excitement coursing through you at the contact.

“W–What?” His voice cracked, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the reaction, savoring the way he struggled to form words. His hands slid around your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your cropped shirt, tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin.

“The gifts, the flirting…” you murmured, almost breathless as your hands slid up to his shoulders. You pulled him closer, enough to feel the heat of his body press against yours. “If you were too much of a coward to tell me—”

“Would you stop calling me—” Cassian’s words faltered when you leaned in, lips brushing over the sensitive crook of his neck, just beneath his jaw. You felt the shudder that ran through his body as you trailed a warm kiss across the skin, his hands tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His breath hitched as his chest rose and fell with a deeper rhythm.

You kissed your way slowly across his neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse beneath your lips. As your lips neared his, you could feel him tilt his head, instinctively trying to meet you. But just before your mouths collided, you pulled away, lips hovering just over his. “You could’ve tried showing me,” you whispered, voice low and teasing, your breath warm against his.

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of Cassian’s lips, his eyes darting between yours and your lips, flickering with hunger. He licked his lips, and the question slipped out of him, coated in desire. “And how would I have gone about that?”

“You could’ve pulled me against you,” you said, your tone slow, deliberate, laced with a challenge that dared him to follow through.

Cassian’s hands moved from your waist, gliding down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly with a strength that made your breath catch. Your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pinned you against the wall.

“And then?” he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation, his lips only an inch away from yours, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

“And then,” you whispered, your lips grazing over his as you leaned in just enough to tease. “You could’ve done this.” Without waiting another second, you closed the gap, pressing your mouth to his with a force that took his breath away. 

The kiss was desperate, hungry, a collision of heat and need. Teeth clashed, tongues tangled as you both dove deeper into the kiss, the world outside vanishing as you lost yourselves in the raw intensity. You both fought for more, each movement desperate, as if nothing could ever feel close enough.

“I vaguely remember trying something like this,” he murmured between heated kisses.

You let out a soft giggle, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, your lungs racing as your forehead rested against his cheek. “I thought you were trying not to waste the perfectly good shot you spilled on me?” you teased.

Cassian nipped at your lips in response, before his teeth swiftly moved to grazing over the delicate skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I think I missed some,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. His lips sucked and nibbled at the spot like he had before, and the teasing motion made you laugh softly, but that quickly turned into a low moan.

“Cassian...” You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to shift his head away, trying to catch your breath. He groaned in protest, hardly pulling back.

You slid down from his legs, standing tall and proud before him.

“You’re killing me here, Y/n,” he said with swollen lips, his eyes glazed with need. The sight of him like this made your heart race faster. Your hands slid from his hair to cup his face, gently holding him as you stared into his eyes.

“I love you, Cassian,” you said softly, your smile wide and genuine, the words flowing naturally. You wanted him to hear it, in this moment, without heat of an arguement. “So fucking much.”

Cassian closed his eyes for a moment, his breath shaky as he leaned into your touch. “Tell me again,” he whispered, his leg shifting between yours, pinning himself against you.

“I love you, Cassian. My mate,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than ever, like you were sealing a promise in the air between you.

His lips crashed back onto yours, the kiss deepening as he tugged you even closer. In between the kisses, he pulled away just long enough to demand, “Again.”

“I love—” you tried, but he was relentless, kissing you harder, his lips never straying far as he muttered again over and over. You laughed softly, surrendering to the moment, and said it one more time.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

He pulled away just enough to smile, a soft, adoring expression on his face. “My beautiful mate,” he murmured, his voice filled with nothing but affection as he stared at you, his eyes alight with something deeper than desire—something eternal.

With a grin, Cassian picked you up effortlessly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his broad shoulders as he lifted you without a second thought.

“Hey!” you protested, though your heart raced with excitement, the rush of adrenaline making your pulse quicken.

“I’d like to continue this... without clothes,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Preferably in a bed,” He said before he nipped playfully at your ear before pressing a lingering, slow kiss to the pulse point on your neck. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. “Unless you want to go back inside for your girls night?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to bring up the people waiting back inside, but the words were caught in your throat as Cassian’s wings suddenly flared out, strong and powerful, lifting both of you into the air.

“I’m tired of them knowing everything,” he muttered.

Your arms tightened around his neck as you let out a breathless laugh, feeling the cool night air rush around you. Higher and higher, the ground falling away as Cassian swept you off into the night.

[muwapsturniolo]

“I-it was just a thought…”

✗ Nothing but fluff, swearing, mentions of smoking but not weed or nicotine, a sprained wrist, and that's about it.

cred to @bernardsbendystraws for dividers.

also, shout out to both @bernardsbendystraws and @quinnysnursery for being dog lovers

Puka was an eccentric dog from the time you had gotten her. She had more human characteristics and mannerisms rather than the ones a dog would usually have.

She huffed at the smallest inconvenience, loved to sleep, and she just so happened to make the same faces as you would when things get weird. However, your favorite trait of hers was how friendly she was.

She wasn't the type to bark and growl at people, never biting or chasing anyone - She was playful and full of love.

So it made sense when every morning after breakfast, she would sit patiently but excitedly by the door, her tail wagging as she held the white harness in her mouth.

She loved being outside, rolling in the grass, chasing squirrels, and most importantly,

Sitting on the pathway and happily barking at the people passing by.

It was her routine.

It seemed as if everyone enjoyed it, always smiling and waving at both you and Puka, sometimes even stopping to have a small conversation.

Most people would find it annoying or tedious, but you fell into the routine happily.

However, there was one specific person Puka would go haywire for. You didn't know his name, hell you couldn't even tell him apart from his triplet brothers - But Puka knew.

She'd yip happily, damn near dragging you off the porch as she tried to get to him every time he stepped foot outside. There were times when she refused to go inside until she saw him, causing you to be late on multiple occasions.

Just like everyone else, the guy enjoyed it. He'd wave to her, laughing as she barked happily. On some occasions he would briefly look at you as well, sending you a small smile before climbing in his car and leaving.

Eventually, the small smiles turned into waves, the waves then turning into the both of you shouting across the street to make small talk.

"Morning! How's it going?"

"Pretty good!"

They were brief interactions, but you found yourself looking forward to them much like Puka.

Little did you know, he looked forward to them as well.

There was a specific day when Puka was beyond hyper. She had knocked a vase over, made you fall twice, and even tore up the bag of dog food sitting in the corner. You ended up taking her outside, going to the dog park down the street to hopefully blow off some energy. It seemed like it worked, her movements slower and more calm than how it was this morning.

However, that changed as soon as you turned onto the corner of your street. She had barked loudly, scaring you and making you drop your phone. As you went to grab it and scold her at the same time, she bolted forward.

A small yelp escaped your mouth as your body fell forward. You tried to break your fall by extending your arms outward, but that didn't help - You definitely messed up your wrist.

You sit there in pain, cradling your wrist to your chest. It's only a brief second before you realize Puka has run off. You quickly stand up, stumbling as you whip your head around to locate the mini golden doodle.

"Jesus Christ! Puka where ar-" You cut yourself off when you see the guy laying in the grass of his front yard, tangled in Pukas leash as she assaults him with dog kisses.

You quickly run over, apologies falling out your mouth as you use one hand to grab Puka by the leash. "I'm so so sorry! One minute, I was walking home, and then she barks, and before I knew it, she's running like a damn track star towards the fin- Are you alright?"

She blinks softly, her brows creasing as she frowns.

"Huh?"

He chuckles and stands to his feet, brushing off the grass from his pants. "I asked if you're alright. your wrist doesn't look that good." She follows his finger and looks down at her aching wrists. He's right, it doesn't look good. it's swollen and a bit red, you could even some bruising forming.

"Oh...Oh! umm- I think I'm ok? I'm just going to ice it when I get inside." She waves him off, not wanting to make it a big deal.

"I'm no doctor, but I do think you should get that checked out."

"Ok yeah, valid point. I'll do that tomorrow, I'm right-handed and since my right hand is messed up, I can't drive without crashing so I'll probably have my friend ta- I'll take you."

The two of them stare at each other in shock.

The guy shocked that he offered a cute stranger with an even cuter dog a ride to the ER, and her shocked that he was nice enough to even offer.

Trying to play it cool, she clears her throat. "I would accept but, I don't even know your name...Nor do you know mine. Stranger danger as my mom would say, although my grandma says strangers are just friends we don't know yet."

He chuckles at her words and flicks his hair out of his eyes, "Well, your grandma seems to be more open-minded. Although, I don't agree with her sentiment, but it's helpful today. "

He outstretches his hand and gives her a soft smile, "I'm Matt, and although my brothers and I have labeled you Golden girl - The show?" He finds his heart beating a bit quicker than normal as she scrunches her nose and tilts her head.

She looked like a puppy.

"The show? I didn't know that was a show."

"So why label me Golden girl?"

"Because you own a golden doodle and you're always wearing gold so...Golden girl."

She hums softly, the nickname vibing well with her.

"Well, my name is Y/n, but Golden Girl works well too." He smiles and goes to shake her hand, only to stop when he realizes he can't

"Right, hurt wrist. let's get you to the ER."

"Wait! What about Puka?"

His own brows furrow in confusion until he understands she's talking about the dog, "Oh! Uhh..." He looks down at the dog who is panting and wagging her tail happily.

"She can come too, I'm sure the doctors wouldn't mind bringing her in."

With that, the two climb into the car, Matt helping her get adjusted and even buckling her seat belt.

It was a short drive to the ER, the two walking in and telling the nurse at the desk what was going on. Soon Y/n is whisked away behind the double doors, leaving Matt and Puka in the waiting room.

"You know Puka, I've had a small crush on your mom for a while... She's pretty. I just didn't have the courage to walk across the street and talk to her." The dog stares at Matt with a childlike gleam in its eyes.

Matt laughs softly and pets her, "but you knew that, didn't you?" Matt swears he heard the dog snicker, but his attention is brought toward Y/n walking through the doors. She has a folder with paper in her hands, as well as a brace on her wrist.

"Not broken, but it is sprained! Doc says no heavy lifting and to let it rest. Is it bad I'm upset it wasn't broken? I wanted the bright green cast."

Matt stands up from the chair and chuckles, "You're something else Golden girl. Come on, let's go." They walk out of the ER and climb back into the car.

The drive back was full of chatter, the both of them comfortable enough to hold an actual conversation. Soon they are back in their neighborhood, the car parked in Matt's driveway.

"Thanks for the ride, and thanks for not being rude to me or Puka."

Matt shrugs, "No reason to be rude to a cute dog and an even cuter owner." Y/n quickly looks away, loving the compliment but not knowing how to respond.

"I uhh-" Matt clears his throat and eyes Puka who is looking at him with pleading eyes. He swallows harshly before continuing.

"I-I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out sometime? W-we could grab food o-or take Puka out..." He trails off awkwardly.

Y/n's eyes widen in surprise, her heartbeat quickening.

"L-like a date?" She questions softly.

He nods and rubs the back of his neck. She was hard to read and he didn't know if her shock was good or bad.

"Y-yeah like a date....I-it was just a thought though so I-it's no big deal if you say no! Like you said, stranger danger an - Yeah."

He stops his rambling as she answers his question.

"Y-yeah?" She nods and gives a comforting smile.

"Yeah... I'll go on a date with you."

It was like the ending of an old-time romantic comedy, the two puppy lovers standing at the end of the driveway smiling at each other,

Ready to take on what could be.

[l0stglitch]

A night at the boardwalk (part 2)

Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Tysm for all the support you guys have given me, it really means a lot. It’s nice to know that the lost boys fandom is still thriving, as this movie literally means the world to me ❤️

Warnings- Yandere behaviour, Controlling parenting, Borderline abuse, David and Marko are still assholes

Part 1

“I’m not gonna ask you again sweetheart. Who were you with at the boardwalk?”

You scowled at David, refusing to answer the question honestly.

“No one! How the fuck do you expect me to have any friends when you keep me locked up in this stupid cave all day!?”

Your father rolled his eyes, his patience already wearing thin. “We aren’t stupid, Y/n. You think we couldn’t hear you talking to someone?”

You broke away from his icy glare and chose instead to look at the floor. There was no convincing them that you had been alone- that much was certain. Paul was easy to lie to, but the others? You didn’t stand a chance against David, Dwayne and Marko.

“Cmon Y/n, you know we’re only worried about you. Just tell us who you were with and this doesn’t have to escalate.” You looked up at Dwayne. He was watching you with a sympathetic look on his face, his brown eyes staring deeply into yours.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied through gritted teeth.

“If you’re so innocent then why’s your heart beating so much?” Marko retorted, taking a threatening step closer.

You turned to him with a glare, “Oh I don’t know- maybe because I’m being accused of something I didn’t do!”

“We all know you were with someone, so why don’t you stop being such a brat and just fess up.”

You laughed disbelievingly, “I can’t fess up to something I didn’t do!”

“Except you did run off with someone- so therefore you can fess up.” David said, his tone unamused.

“I’m done with this fucking conversation!” You snapped, turning around and storming off.

Marko grabbed you by your wrist and yanked you back, his eyes dark.

“You don’t leave until we say you can.”

You tried to tug your wrist free, “Get off me.”

Your father smiled at you mockingly, “Make me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You threw a fist straight into his nose, the impact making a sickening crack.

Marko groaned and stumbled back, your wrist slipping out of his grip.

“You bitch!” He snarled, leaning onto Paul slightly for support.

In an instant, David was in front of you, grasping your shoulders with an uncomfortable amount of force. His blue eyes now shone yellow, and his lips were drawn back into a snarl, revealing a pair of wicked fangs.

You couldn’t help but shrink back in fear.

“You better learn your fucking place sweetheart. You’re at the bottom of the pack- you understand that?”

You nodded timidly, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“You don’t hit any of us.” He practically spat the words out at you.

“Sorry.” You croaked, trying to fight back the tears that were beginning to pool at the bottom of your vision.

He released your shoulders and practically shoved you backwards, “Go to your room.”

You turned around and sprinted out, finally allowing your tears to flow freely once you were sure you were out of their sights.

Through your wobbly vision you stumbled into your room and slammed the door behind you before throwing yourself onto the bed with a sob.

You lay there curled up for a while, hugging the bear Paul had won for you when you were little. You buried your face in the tattered fur and let it soak up the moisture of your tears.

Eventually, a gentle knock sounded on your door, followed by a creak as it opened.

You didn’t need to look up to know it was Dwayne. It was always him.

“Hey baby.” He murmured gently as he rounded your bed. You didn’t react, choosing to keep your face hidden and back turned away from him.

The bed dipped as your father sat down beside you. You felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

You flinched under him, and Dwayne instantly loosened his grip.

“Are you hurt?”

You sniffed in response, feeling another fresh wave of tears gathering at the question. Fuck, you hated being so sensitive.

“Hey, look at me baby. Did David hurt you?”

You rolled onto your back and looked at Dwayne tearfully. He regarded you with a concerned frown.

“You know he didn’t mean it. David just… forgets how fragile you are.”

Your father gently pulled the collar of your shirt, revealing a canvas of freshly bruised skin.

“He hurt me daddy.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

Dwayne felt his stomach twist with concern as he realised the extent of the damage David had caused. He gently pulled his hand away from your collarbone and tenderly wiped away your tears.

“You’ll be ok, babygirl. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do that again.”

You could feel your throat constricting painfully, making it hard to speak. “But you let him do it. You didn’t even try to stop him.”

Dwayne didn’t know what to say. There was no point in denying it, after all you were right. He hadn’t stopped Marko from antagonising you, and when David had gotten physical, he had just stood to the side and watched.

“I think Marko likes it when I’m in trouble,” You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “He likes telling me off and shouting at me.”

Your father stared at you, caught off guard by your statement.

“And David… he gets angry a lot, but I don’t think he enjoys it as much as Marko does.” You knew you’d regret speaking your mind later on once you felt more emotionally stable, but at that moment you just craved comfort.

Dwayne shook his head pityingly, “That’s not true, baby. We love you more than you’ll ever know. We hate seeing you upset- so I don’t want you thinking that Marko enjoys arguing with you.”

You wanted to believe him, but it was hard when the earlier conflict kept playing in your head over and over like a broken record. The way Marko had grinned at you so condescendingly, soaking up your frustration, and how his eyes had gleamed challengingly even after you punched him. He had obviously been pissed off, but you couldn’t ignore the way he had instantly sprung out of Paul’s hold seconds after, eager for more. He wanted to see how far he could push you. How far he could stretch your limits before you snapped.

“Then why didn’t you help me?”

Dwayne sighed, “Y/n, this isn’t about picking sides. David asked you a simple question and you turned it into an argument. That had nothing to do with me.”

You sniffed, “Had nothing to do with Marko either.”

Your father glanced over at your door, making sure the others weren’t lingering outside. “I’ll have a word with Marko, but you need to accept that you aren’t innocent either. I know Paul was high, but that isn’t an excuse to lie to him and then run away with a bunch of strangers. You could’ve gotten yourself into serious danger, Y/n.”

“It was one person dad! And she’s my friend. She wouldn’t hurt me.”

“But someone else could. You think she’d be able to protect you from all the bad people around? You need us Y/n, not your friend.”

You sat up without a reply, fiddling with the teddy in your lap.

Dwayne shuffled closer to you and wrapped an arm round your shoulders. “How about we go outside so you can apologise for what happened.”

You shot him a pleading look, “Do I have to?”

He didn’t say anything, instead standing up and offering a hand.

You begrudgingly let him pull you to your feet and lead you back to the main part of the cave. You were acutely aware of how hot your face felt, still flushed and sticky from crying.

David didn’t need to look up from his Kerrang! magazine to know that you had returned. He could feel the accelerated beating of your heart through the air. Paul and Marko did too.

“So, you calmed down from your little tantrum?” He asked, finally glancing up at you with a quirked brow.

You had to force yourself not to storm back to your room at the comment, already feeling pissed off again. Dwayne squeezed your hand warningly, as if he could sense your irritation.

“Yeah, I guess I have.” You replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

David watched you indifferently, “You come to stand here and stare at us or have you got something to say?”

You scratched at the back of your neck, a nervous twitch you’d picked up a long time ago. Your eyes flittered over to where Marko was sat. His arms were sprawled out across the back of the couch and his head was cocked to the side. He watched you with barely concealed interest, curious as to what you’d do next.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” You replied, forcing yourself to look back into David’s icy blue eyes.

He raised his brows patronisingly, “What’re you sorry for?”

You swallowed. “For running away at the boardwalk.”

Clearly that wasn’t all he wanted from you, as the look of expectancy on David’s face remained strong as ever.

“And for arguing about it.. and then punching Marko.” You glanced back over at Marko sheepishly, who still regarded you with those hungry eyes.

“You got anything you wanna say to Paul?” It took all your willpower not to yell at David in frustration. He was clearly dragging out this apology, and you had a slight suspicion that he was trying to bait you into getting yourself into more trouble.

You didn’t see the look Dwayne shot David. He knew exactly what the other man was doing, and unlike his blonde lover, Dwayne took little pleasure in disciplining you.

Paul didn’t seem particularly bothered by the whole situation either. You could see him lounging in an armchair, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Sorry for running away Papa.”

Your father exhaled a plume of smoke before standing up and tossing away the cigarette. You watched silently as he walked towards you in an unconcerned manner.

Paul squeezed your shoulder and gave you a lopsided grin. He was obviously still under the effects of the weed.

“I’m just glad you’re ok kid- I missed you.”

You blinked dumbly, unsure of what to say. Had it been just you and Paul, you would’ve gone along with what he was saying, but with David eyeing you from his wheelchair throne, it was difficult to twist your narrative into whatever Paul thought was going on.

“Well… it won’t happen again.” You replied uncertainly, letting him pull you into an affectionate hug.

He hummed contently before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I know. We’ll have to keep a better eye on you next time!”

You heard someone stand up from behind you but couldn’t decipher who, as Paul held you too close for you to be able to easily twist around.

The sound of footsteps informed you of the approaching figure, who you soon found out to be Marko, as he rested his hands on your waist and leaned closer to your ear to speak to you.

“Y’know Paul may be high as fuck, but he’s not wrong about keeping an eye on you, pumpkin.”

You shivered at the warning, hearing Marko chuckle as he backed away, giving you enough space to finally free yourself from Paul’s grasp.

“It’s morning soon right? I think I’m gonna go to sleep.” You said as you turned around, eager to have some time to yourself.

As you started to make your way to your room, David’s voice made you stop. “Not by yourself you’re not.”

You frowned, “What’re you talking about?”

Marko smirked, “It’s just a precaution. Y’know, so you don’t try running away again.”

You paused for a moment, trying to understand what they meant, until suddenly it clicked. “I don’t need you to watch me during the day! When have I ever ran out of the cave? Where would I even go? It’s not like I know how to drive your bikes!”

David just shrugged, “We let you get away with one thing and then you start to test the boundaries. It’s not forever- only until we can trust you again.”

You stared at him incredulously, but didn’t argue back. “Fine. Who am I gonna be stuck with now then?”

“I can watch her,” Dwayne offered, ignoring Paul and Marko’s protests. He knew that out of the four of them he’d be the best at keeping you placated, and after your earlier conversation, you’d probably be more at ease with him.

David’s face remained neutral, “Fine by me.”

You simply scowled at him before promptly turning around and storming back to your room with Dwayne in tow.

It didn’t take long to reach your bedroom door with the pace you were walking at. You were tempted to slam the door in Dwayne’s face when you walked in, but decided it wouldn’t be worth pissing off the only person who wasn’t entirely mad at you.

With a frustrated groan, you threw yourself onto the bed for the second time since returning home. Dwayne just sighed.

You looked up and glared at him, “What?”

Your father sat down on your worn couch and watched you thoughtfully. “Things would be so much easier if you just stopped arguing with us all the time.”

“Maybe I would if you didn’t set such stupid rules,” you shot back.

“You know we only do it because we love you.”

“Well you guys have a funny way of showing it.” You huffed in response, rolling onto your side so that he wouldn’t be able to see your face.

“You’re still young, Y/n. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“That’s what you always say.” You mumbled, pulling your teddy close to your chest.

“Well it’s true.”

You didn’t reply. It was pointless trying to argue with him, and you were beginning to feel tired.

Dwayne noticed your fatigue, and jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“You gonna shuffle up or am I gonna have to sleep on the couch?”

You twisted to look over your shoulder, and saw how pathetic he looked sat over there by himself. The couch was nowhere near big enough to fit his tall frame, nor was it particularly comfortable either.

Still choosing not to speak, you rolled over to make space for Dwayne. He got up with a small smile and shrugged off his leather jacket before coming over and climbing into your bed.

You both lay there in silence for a while, lost in the comforting darkness of the room. The shapes of your furniture became hazy blurs in the dim light of the few candles you’d lit earlier.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You frowned and glanced over at Dwayne, “Huh?”

“We do love you. I know sometimes you have your episodes and you convince yourself that we all hate you, but there’s nothing you could do that would make any of us feel that way.”

You hated that he called it that. You weren’t having an ‘episode’. Any normal person would’ve reacted the same way. Still, you knew that arguing about his terminology would get you nowhere, so you chose to ignore it.

“I just don’t understand why you guys adopted me if all you’re going to do is scream at me.”

Dwayne looked at you sadly, “Oh baby. I’m sorry you’re upset, but you know why we took you in. You were being raised by monsters. Humans are naturally cruel and your family was no different. They were abusing you- our hearts broke every time we’d see you come crying to us covered in bruises.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. They’d told you this story countless times. How they had met you when you were little and saved you from a life of abuse and neglect. You’d been taught about the cruel nature of humanity, and how that justified the many lives your fathers had taken.

Of course, if you followed that logic then technically you were a bad person as well, but of course, according to them, you were special. Different from the rest of mankind.

“You promise David won’t hurt me again?”

“I swear, Y/n. He won’t lay a finger on you.”

The room fell silent again, until Dwayne beckoned for you to come closer.

“Come here.”

You scooted over to him, allowing your father to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You curled up against his bare torso, finding comfort in his presence.

“Go to sleep now, angel. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

You hummed in reply and closed your eyes, finally falling asleep as you felt his fingers gently massage the back of your neck.

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @ursinaw @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic

Sorry this took so long to write! Please excuse any bad grammar/spelling as I proofread this late at night so it might not be perfect. I also wrote this over multiple weeks so the characters might not be completely consistent 😅

[genevawrenn]

I am still brainstorming about The Secret League of Alchemists [tr!Sneeg, tr!Clown & tr!Ros] after today's streams [Ros & Sneeg have VODs] cause there are simply so many good points that happened and that conversation played out exactly how I would have wanted it to. From both a character and creator POV, well-fucking-done.

Alright, onto this ramble [from now on I will be talking about character unless I specify].

First of all, I am so fucking glad Sneeg was the one to notice the fact Ros left Yellow and had the tough conversation about what happened with her. Up until that point, at least from the VODs I have seen, Ros has only really known his silly, bantering side, I am not sure she even really trusted him to be venerable up until today when she took a chance and I am so happy she did. She watched him and Clown drive each other insane and had issues differentiating between their tones if they were serious or not but I think she finally understands how Sneeg acts when he is locked in on something.

Because he handled everything BEAUTIFULLY.

He took the time to sit down and listen to her, asking thought provoking questions as he tries to narrow down the motivation of their opposition. Checking with their comfort before giving them the respect of privacy and taking them to somewhere no one would follow, allowing them to speak freely and without judgement. Speaking straight up of what he was witness too, backing them up whenever they needed yet giving the respect to make the decisions they have to.

I absolutely ADORE the fact Clown also showed up, and without second guessing anything about the subject content and immediately locks in, takomg the time to listen to his obviously hurting friend. The fact he tries to talk about Sneeg's machine upon his arrival on the mushroom island and Sneeg refuses for the conversation to be deflected, instead forcing the subject back to the one he wished to focus on and its so masterfully well done.

Clown and Sneeg have surprised me the most, I think, loyalty wise. The Kingdom of Fools was a unity of misfits who became family forced together through gathering materials and protecting against attacks from all fronts. They have become an inseparable trio who has now proved they have one another's backs, alongside Foolish, as that's who they believe the core of the Kingdom is. They are willing to tackle issues head on together, refusing to let anyone stumble and fighting at their side until the bitter end.

Clown, Sneeg, Ros and Foolish have become united through circumstances and family through loyalty, only hoping for the best for the fellow members of their Kingdom.

I love how Sneeg describes Ros as being the castle, the centerpiece of their faction. She started the foundations to give them shelter and fought back each exhausting time it has been threatened. She is the origin, the keystone, the bloody heart of the Kingdom of Fools gilded in gold and royal purples. She was the interim Queen when Foolish fell, immediately accepted and backed up by the rest of the Fools.

I think after Foolish sacrificed himself it brought a lot into perspective for the remaining members, and Sneeg made his choice of who he would stand by in times of chaos. He found a warrior-in-arms with Clown who despite all their bickering, both would protect each others backs without question.

"You are the Kingdom, The entirety of the Kingdom was built around a structure you made, willingly."

Perfect guards for their Kingdom, otherwise known as Ros, the Royal Architect. She is the foundations, the structures and the walls who will save her people despite the weather that batters her and the sieges that befall her fortifications.

But like hell she is facing it alone, especially now.

She created a safe space for her people to gather and build their future, now in her times of strife two of the people who earned her respect stepped up to protect her when she stumbled.

I haven't watched much of Clown's content, or Ros before this world but now I want to know so much more.

Because I see the reputation Clown wears like a comfortable, worn sweater, totally confident with what his ruthless nature has bought him. But even someone so terrifying can hide a soft heart, and Ros has clearly earned the terrifying pvper's friendship.

Simply by being herself and building a home, people gathered to inhabit it and now are willing to go through hell and high water to save their safe space. Two of the server's most feared have made their stance known, at the side of the personification of everything their Kingdom stands for.

Its beautiful poetry watching the one who nutured malice instead of love get his just desserts, and I am eagerly awaiting their King's return but I trust in the core trio who has kept this Kingdom afloat week after week.

They are strongest together, and today proved that in so many ways. I adore and love this trio, and hope this open communication remains a habit between them, because knowing they can come to one another without judgement and be reassured of their worth.

Sneeg made sure to have emphasis that Ros has an incredible amount of worth to the Kingdom even beyond the castle she built, because she is the keystone who united them and holds them all together.

Oh my Secret League of Alchemists, though I did not know you before I am delighted to make your acquaintance now. One of my favourite tropes is scary souls who have a soft spot for those they care for, I hope it continues long into the future because they cooked a whole meal and then some with each and every action from today's story.

Bravo. Give me more.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

both.

logan howlett x bisexual!reader / (pre-poolverine x bisexual!reader)

summary: the worst wolverine comes from a universe very different from this one. a universe where things aren't as great for queer people. so naturally, he panics when you ask him if he has a crush on his roommate.

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of homophobia, self-hatred/internalised homophobia from logan, logan has a crush on wade and reader does too

series masterlist - my masterlist

golden light streams through the windows, only occasionally broken by a shadow when a particularly strong breeze passes by, making the curtains dance. you’re cuddled up in bed with logan, bodies pressed together, a tangled mess of limbs, your legs thrown over his lap, a book long abandoned at your side - you find it much more interesting to trace the lines of his face with your eyes, memorising him.

you’re passing the same words over in your mind, rephrasing them, hoping to find a good way to broach the topic. it’s not a conversation one typically has with their boyfriend, so there’s no preset script to follow, nothing to use as a guide. you worry at your bottom lip, and logan reaches up to pull it out from between your teeth the way he often does when you succumb to the bad habit. it’s the kind of ease shared by couples who have been together for years - it shouldn’t be this easy, this comfortable after a mere few months with logan, but somehow it is.

he knows something is bothering you, you’re not particularly adept at hiding it, but he’s allowing you the silence to find your words, even if it’s not at this moment or today or even this week, because you always tell him eventually.

“you’re very close with wade,” you say at last, deciding to gently approach the subject, as if dealing with a frightened animal, no sudden movements or sounds.

“i guess,” he grumbles in response. their dynamic is interesting, a constant back and forth, forever toeing the line between teasing and genuine arguing, the fighting - both physical and verbal - acting as a release of tension for the both of them. when you’d first met logan, he had been adamant that wade was merely an annoyance that refused to leave him alone, but he’s reached a point where he can semi-comfortably admit that he enjoys their relationship. 

you’re hoping this won’t destroy what’s between them, the precious understanding found in each other, an understanding that no one else will ever be able to give them. both cursed in similar ways, bodies healing from every injury, (mostly, probably) unable to die, craving violence and revenge against the world that has already taken so much.

“i don’t know how else to ask this. normally, i can find the right words eventually but it’s not really about me.” you continue, forewarning him that the line of questioning is abnormal, “do you like wade?”

the world stops for a moment; logan freezes in your arms, his whole body tense like an elastic on the verge of snapping, his eyes devoid of the soft happiness that had been aimed at you not even two minutes ago. you can practically see him rebuilding the walls you’d worked so hard to break down, his old emotionless mask sliding onto his face.

“why the fuck would you ask that?” his voice isn’t low the way it is when he’s genuinely angry, when his temper gets the better of him, when the natural predator that lives inside logan comes alive. it’s higher, a sign that there’s more than plain anger causing him to react this way.

you’ve seen logan in many states, several of which were terrible: covered in blood, clothes tattered from a fight, absolutely wasted out of his mind, furious. but this is new, anger and upset and pain and hurt and guilt, you can see so many different emotions flashing in his eyes, changing too fast for you to decipher any of it.

he pulls out of your arms, stumbling out of bed in his haste, pulling on a stray pair of jeans that had been left on the floor last night in your haste to pull him into bed with you. the empty air beside you is freezing, the loss of logan’s body heat palpable. you know about logan’s tendency to run, to leave when he felt too much, but he’d never before done it with you.

“logan-” you try to say, sitting up in bed, blankets a mess around you, your relationship seemingly in a similar state.

he’s shrugging on a shirt and sliding out the door before you can come up with the words to ask him what’s going on, to ask him to stay. he stops at the door of your bedroom, and for a moment you wonder if he’s changed his mind.

“don’t bring that shit up again,” he growls, “i’m not like that.”

the thing is, you’re quite certain logan is like that, as he’d put it. you’ve noticed his gaze catching on attractive men on occasion, lingering a little too long to pass as anything other than what it is. you don’t mind - being in a relationship doesn’t suddenly make you blind to the other attractive people in the world, and they’re always fleeting glances. when he looks at you it’s with a single-minded focus that had slightly scared you in the beginning, an intensity that read as if you were the only person in the world to him.

it’s most noticeable around wade, not that you can blame logan for falling for wade’s eccentric charm when you’d done the same. it’s endearing to watch him, flustered and simultaneously pissed at himself for having that reaction when the merc flirts with him, making his quips a little sharper than usual, though wade always knows how to respond.

(one might think that wade doesn’t know how to respond to logan’s irritation, since many conversations between them descend into bloodshed, but the truth is that when wade says the wrong thing, it’s often on purpose. he knows which buttons to push to get logan truly riled up, and he thinks it’s hot when logan stabs him.)

and besides, you doubt someone truly straight would have that extreme of a reaction to the question, the insinuation made with it. maybe he’d have been disgusted, made a few comments about how he’s only into women, potentially also sharing a few borderline-homophobic quips, but running away? that signals fear.

you can’t go to wade, not willing to break logan’s trust. you’re not in the business of outing people, though you strongly believe wade already knows. he may act like an idiot and jump headfirst into dangerous situations without considering the consequences, but he’s observant, he has to be in order to be so good at his job.

it’s also very likely that logan has gone to wade’s place. there are really only three places where logan spends his time: wade’s (and technically logan’s, though he refuses to really acknowledge that) place, your apartment, and a very specific shady bar - though he’s tried to cut back on drinking lately.

you stay home all day, lingering in the apartment, hoping logan will return. you clean the entire house top to bottom, restless energy manifesting in a need to keep moving, keep doing anything to distract yourself from the way your blood feels like it’s buzzing in your veins. afterwards, you sit on the couch of your newly cleaned apartment and stare blankly at the tv as an episode of your favourite show plays.

you’re lost in your mind when logan does eventually return, barely able to hear the show over the rushing tidal wave of your thoughts. you’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of the door shutting, the shuffling of logan removing his boots, the clang of his keys in the small bowl you keep on a hall table by the entry.

he joins you in the living room, settling down on the couch opposite you, not touching but close enough to offer the comfort of his presence. your knees are tucked to your chest in your attempt to keep to yourself, a blanket pulled tightly around you, unsure which boundaries are in place during a moment such as this one.

“i’m sorry,” you say before he has the chance to speak, “i shouldn’t have ambushed you with a question like that. i just want you to know that i really didn’t mean anything negative by it.”

logan sighs, a pained sound, “i shouldn’t’ve left. i wanted to call you after, but i left my phone here. i’m still not used to having one.”

“why did you run, logan?” you ask, “i need to know what part of the question caused your reaction. was it the implication that you like guys? or wade specifically? or just anyone that isn’t me? because i wasn’t accusing you of cheating.”

his hands clench into fists, tightening and letting go, repeating the motion as a method of self-soothing that isn’t violence. he wants to bring out the claws, so used to being able to fight his way out of difficult situations. it’s been a long time since he’s dealt with his problems in a way that didn’t spill blood and his emotions through anything other than a bottle. communication isn’t his best trait.

“it’s different here than in my universe,” he tells you eventually, “i’d be killed if anyone found out i was-”

he stops, doesn’t say the word. he doesn’t have to, you can put the pieces together yourself.

so you wring your hands in your blanket, feeling the texture between your fingers, trying to shake off the nervous energy that always washes over you when you have to come out to someone, no matter how many times you’ve said it before or how sure you are that they’ll have a positive reaction.

“i am,” you say, “i’m bisexual. i like both. wade’s pansexual. he likes everyone, doesn’t care about gender as long as they’re hot and a little bit crazy, is what he told me. if you’re queer in some way, that’s great, and if you’re not that’s okay too. but you won’t be killed here logan, it’s legal. yeah, some people are still homophobic, you get looks or comments, but it’s largely accepted, at least in america.”

he leans across the barrier of space between your bodies, breaking the metaphorical line you’d drawn in the sand to pull you into his arms. he kisses the top of your head, his breathing shaky. he’s trembling, so lightly that you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t holding him so tightly, his distress invisible to the eye.

“both.” is what he whispers in the sliver of air that still separates your mouths before kissing you deeply. it’s as much of an admission as you’re going to get. you don’t expect logan to become comfortable with his sexuality immediately, so used to the hiding and the guilt and the fear.

unlearning habits is hard, terribly so, and yet he’d managed to speak it into existence for you to hear. you return his kiss with equal passion, hoping to convey how proud you are of him, how nothing has changed between you, he’s still your logan, your stoic and dramatic boyfriend from a different universe that somehow stumbled into your life.

your lips meld together, soft and sensual, passionate but not rushed. it won’t lead to anything further, not tonight, not when you’re both still recovering from your respective emotionally challenging days. the tension you’d held onto all day, worried that you’d ruined the best thing in your life, falls apart under logan’s touch.

you hope your touch does the same for him, that with every brush of your hands in his hair he recalls your words, that he physically feels your adoration for him in the way you press your bodies together.

“but really, do you like wade?”

he groans, his flushed face the only answer you need. he’s not ready to do anything about his crush yet, can’t even say the words aloud, but you know and wade knows and logan knows. you’ll get there eventually, and you know the wait will be worth it in the end.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

bisexual reader: @spencerswh0r3

[eunoia-writes]

Back to you • Felix catton

Summary : After Abruptly ending things a few months ago with y/n Felix sees her for the first time at a party.

As the rhythmic pulse of the music filled the room, Felix’s attention abruptly shifted when y/n walked into the party. Time seemed to slow, and the vibrant chatter around him muted into a distant hum. In that moment, everything faded into the background as if the universe had conspired to spotlight her entrance. The air felt thinner, and each step she took echoed like a heartbeat resonating in his chest. Her presence commanded the room, casting a spell that hushed the clamor of the party. For a fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the boundaries of their shared gaze, and the gravitational pull of nostalgia lingered in the space between them, leaving Felix breathless and captivated by the memory of a connection that time had failed to erase.

She was in that pretty little dress he loved so much. However the arm of the guy she’d walked in with wrapped around the material tainted the image Felix has of it in his head. He wanted to tare the guy limb from limb for being anywhere near his girl. But she’s not his girl anymore.

And that was his fault.

It didn’t take long for Felix to completely abandon the conversation he was in making his way over to y/n who was just as stunned to see him.

“Hey stranger.” Felix said pretending he wasn’t having heart palpitations from the proximity. He watched as the way her eyes welled up for a few seconds at the sight of him before she blinked the tears back making a point of wrapping herself in the boy beside hers arms.

“Hey Felix, this is Danny.”, She said leaning her head onto the boys shoulder “Danny this is Felix.” She said with a tight lipped smile.

“Nice to meet you.” Danny offered his hand to Felix but Felix just looked him up and down and turned his attention back to y/n.

“Could i steal you for a second?” He asked she hesitated for a second before shaking her head.

“No, we’ve just got here need to make the rounds, I’ll see you around though.” She said before grabbing Danny’s hand and dragging him away leaving Felix stood in the same hurt and shock he left her in all those nights ago.

Felix spent the rest of the night sat sulking while the girl he was currently messing around with sat on his lap trying to keep his attention but he couldn’t take his eyes off Y/n and Danny. God what was she going with that guy, she couldn’t love him. Not how she loved Felix he couldn’t believe for a second that she could share the love they had with anyone else.

It wasn’t until she drunkenly stumbled out to the smoking area that she saw his chance to get her alone. Felix pushed the girl off his lap much to her protest before downing what was left of his drink and making his way outside.

He saw her stood in the corner struggling to light her cigarette, the habit that she’d picked up from him staining her still. Y/n fumbled with her lighter, frustration etched on her face as she shook the lighter before returning to try and light her cigarette. Felix let out a sigh before walking over to her flicking his own lighter without saying a word.

She knew it was him without having to look up, she could tell by the signet ring he wore everyday, the one she got him almost four years ago. Y/n reluctantly let him light her cigarette slurring a thank you.

“Can we talk?” He asked as she leant the wall behind them taking a drag of her cigarette.

“About what?” She said In almost a whisper, she knew when she spotted him walking towards her earlier that this would happen. That he’d somehow corner her and beg to talk about what happened. About them.

“You know exactly what.” He said she was refusing to look at him knowing if she did she’d start crying on the spot.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” she said to him staring at the floor. They both let a few moments of silence go by both silently praying the other would talk first.

“You look really pretty tonight.” Felix said and she finally looked up at him scoffing at his words.

“Oh wow you notice for once.” She rolled her eyes as she took another drag of her cigarette.

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything.” She now had tears welling in her eyes for that second time that evening.

“Y/n.” He said softly but she shook her head not wanting to let how gentle he always was with her affect her anymore than it already had.

“Don’t y/n me.” She said as tears rolled down her cheeks, she hated the way he made her feel. She hated that she still loved him.

“Farleigh told me you asked about me.” Felix said as she flicked her cigarette out and threw it away from them

“So what.” She whispered he hated the look in her eyes. The hurt he knew he’d caused.

“You could have asked me yourself.” He said and she shook her head in disbelief. He ended things with her out of the blue and the thought she’d still be his friend.

“You decided that wasn’t an option when you ended things.”

“Y/n.”

“No stop it, I won’t do this.” She shook her head once again her arms wrapping around herself as she moved away from him. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t walk away from him but this was Felix she could never walk away from him. She’d never be the one to walk away.

“Can we please just talk about this?” He was begging at this point. He needed a reason to keep talking to her to keep her near knowing if he let her leave right now he’d never see her again if she could help it.

“Can you just leave me alone, seeing you hurts Felix, it physically hurts.” She said as more and more tears rolled down her eyes the wind making her sway slightly.

“No,” he shook his head his hand coming to her cheek to wipe her tears away, but she batted him away “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You already did, you already left me remember.” She croaked her voice harsh from the alcohol mixed the the tears.

“I never meant for- why Felix why did you do it?” She cut him off her emotions getting the better of her as he looked at her his beautiful brown eyes glossy now as he fought back his own tears.

“I don’t know.” He whispered

“Oh wow you don’t know, real mature.” She was upset, angry and confused all at the same time. Y/n didn’t understand why he couldn’t just be honest with her.

“I’m sorry okay, I never meant for things to end the way they did.”

“I thought we loved each other.” His chest physically ached at the sadness in her voice he hated himself for it.

“We did, god I still love you.”

“Don’t say that.” She was practically sobbing at this point close to hyperventilating all the emotions she felt the day he left coming back up as well as all the others she’s buried since that day never allowing herself to grieve the loss of the relationship.

“But it’s true, I love you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Felix told her watching the way her bottom lip quivered as she sniffled her cheeks stained with her mascara

“Then why did you throw it all away?” He almost didn’t hear her the thumping of the music from inside almost swallowed her voice but he always heard her. In the loudest of rooms he always heard her.

“Because I was scared okay! I was scared that if I let myself fall anymore In love with you that you’d get sick of me and you’d leave and that would have killed me.” He finally admitted and her response only made his heart break harder

“You leaving killed me.”

“I’m sorry, god I’m so sorry.” He chocked on his own tears “Please.” His hands are on either side of her face “please let me fix this, I can’t keep living without you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt me again.”

“I promise ill Never hurt you again, I need you back in my life pretty girl.” He begged wiping her tears away

“I don’t know if I trust you anymore Fi.” She whispered just as the door to the party opened snapping them out of the moment

“Y/n, there you are… oh.” Danny said as he stumbled over to them y/n took a step back from Felix wiping her own face as Felix let out a sigh “what’s going on here?” Danny asked

“This hasn’t anything to do with you.” Felix barked at him the liquor in his veins taking its effect on his tolerance of others

“I wasn’t asking you.” Danny snapped back at him “I was asking MY girl.” He emphasised the My knowing it would get under Felix’s skin

“She’s not your girl.” It took everything in Felix not to swing for Danny. The idea of anyone else calling y/n their girl made him sick.

“She’s not yours either.” Danny began moving closer to the pair

“Cut it out both of you.” Y/n said shaking her head “I can’t do this right now.” She attempted to walk away but Felix caught her wrist and just like always she was putty in his hands

“Y/n!” Danny snapped at her making her flinch slightly which only served to piss Felix off more “Are you really doing this?” He asked her

“I’m sorry.” Y/n whispered looking over at Danny who just shook his head walking away before shouting, “You two deserve each other.”

Y/n didn’t say anything before she wrapped herself around Felix her head resting on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her petting her hair softly. The pair stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before she finally broke the silence.

“Can we go home?”

“Anything you want.”

[multifandomimagin3s]

It's your birthday - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

A/N: Since it's my birthday today, thought I'd indulge myself so hope you guys enjoy :))

Summary: It's your birthday and the guys find out.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Depends on if he's close to you or not.

Mans has the emotional range of a sock, so realistically the most you'd probably get out of him is a gruff "Happy Birthday."

And that's only if he somewhat likes you - if he doesn't then he'd probably just say "You're getting old now, cunt." *Affectionately? Who knows.*

If you were part of the Team, he'd probably take the piss out of you for it.

Would definitely be the one who would tell the waiters that it was your birthday - even if it wasn't - just to embarrass you.

Nonetheless, despite all his teasing, you came back to your room that night to find a little gift on top of your bed spread; there was no name on it, but scrawled across the tag said "Happy Birthday, (Y/N)."

It was a hunting knife with your initials carved into the base of the handle.

You never questioned it but whenever he saw you use it, a small glint briefly sparkled in his eyes.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

He's lowkey annoyed that you never told him when your birthday was.

Would absolutely rope you and some of the Team into going out clubbing - Ghost refused but ended up turning up anyways; "Wanted to watch you make arses of yourselves."

I can just imagine him going to the bar and coming back with a tray of shots - the people who carry and sell the shots in clubs know to carry extra because he buys them all each time.

Would honestly have spent most, if not all, of his money if it hadn't been for Price being the voice of reason.

Would also be the type that would be telling anyone and everyone that it was your birthday so you guys could get free shots.

Orders you whatever food you want on the way back home aswell - kebab? Got it. Pizza? Done. Whatever you want, he'll stumble into the shop and get it.

Your birthday would be absolutely chaotic but it would be one to remember.

Captain John Price

He knew it was your birthday, he's seen your file - the fact that you hadn't mentioned it to anyone meant that you probably had a reason not to, so he didn't say anything.

Would probably wish you a casual 'happy birthday' on a passing, in his normal formal tone.

When Soap invites all the team out on your behalf for clubbing, he's reluctant to go - claims he's "too old for that shit."

But ends up going anyways, purely because he knows that when Soap gets drunk he's a bit of a liability and can easily spend way more than he should (and honestly, same).

Would buy you a drink - whatever you wanted, alcoholic or not.

And maybe, just maybe, if he's had a bit to drink and or is in a good mood, he'd let you wear his hat. Just this once.

But then Soap tried to put it on and said he was keeping it...

So he took the hat back like >:(

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He also knew when your birthday was - it came up in a conversation ages ago, and he has a great memory.

Also gets roped into your birthday night out by Soap.

He'd probably get just as drunk as Johnny but he'd be taking photos and posting onto his Snapchat Story, basically vlogging the whole night.

I can also see him surprising you with a cupcake, placing a birthday candle in it with a sheepish smile.

Would also buy you drinks but unlike Soap, he wouldn't be killing his bank account - self-control and all that.

Would get the DJ to play a birthday song for you - not the traditional cheesy one, but either 'It's My Birthday' by Will.I.Am or maybe 'Birthday' by Anne-Marie.

Alejandro Vargas

"Ah, feliz cumple!" *idk if this is correct, using this article for reference*

Like Soap, he wants to go all out for your birthday - if both teams were together at the time, it'd be one big chaotic night out.

He's a big flirt, regardless of what age you are he's complimenting you nonstop.

If he and Rudy get roped into the Night Out by Soap, Rudy and Price end up having to the be the voices of reason - Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro keep ordering shots; they managed to convince you into doing that challenge of getting a drink of everything from one end of the bar to the other.

Needless to say, you're all legless by the end of the night - well, Alejandro's still vertical but his alcohol tolerance is insane.

Would definitely want to spoil you - takes you shopping and tells you to pick anything that you want, don't worry about the price.

Honestly this is making me think of what Sugar Daddy! Alejandro would be like and it's giving me ideas...

Rudy Parra

This sweet guy would absolutely go out and get you a cake, maybe a balloon, and a card.

How did he know it was your birthday? He's a good listener, you'd been talking about your life outside of the military and had flippantly mentioned when your birthday was, which he noted.

Like Alejandro, he would honestly spoil you rotten.

If you both weren't deployed, he'd plan a trip away somewhere, surprising you with the tickets.

If he gets roped into going out by Alejandro - who was roped in by Soap's enthusiasm - he's practically glued to your side for most of the night.

Takes a bunch of candid pictures of you - they're honestly really good, he should be a photographer.

He'd probably have to stop Alejandro from feeding you and the others stronger shots - the jump from sambuca to jagerbombs to tequila was not a good idea.

He'd listen to your drunk ramblings with a smile on his face, letting you feed him your pizza.

He always remembers your birthday and makes each year memorable.

König

Finds out it's your birthday when your Superiors wish you a brief 'Happy Birthday' during training.

Straight away, he feels so guilty for not knowing but you reassured him that you hadn't really told anyone so he needn't worry.

Nonetheless, he'd still try and make the most of the rest of your birthday.

He'd cook for you - a traditional meal that his Mother taught him, and she used to make it for him on his birthday.

He'd run you a bath, give you a massage, and pamper you - he'd dote on you even more than usual, if that's even possible.

If you wanted to go out and do something, he'd do it - even with his social anxiety, he wants to see you happy so he'd bite the bullet and go for it.

If you wanted to stay in for a chill night and watch a movie, he's game for that too - lets you choose whatever film you want to watch, gets all your favourite snacks and gets all the fluffy blankets and pillows he can find to make a comfy spot on the couch.

He'd also secretly set a reminder on his phone for next year, so he never forgets.

He's honestly just so sweet.

[stayinlimbo]

Hoodie Season

pairing: lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to friends with feelings(?), fluff, subtle realization of feelings(?), or maybe they've been there all along, pitiful attempts at me trying to be funny, mc has hair long enough to be blown in their face, mc's gender not specified word count: 1.13k note: this has been torturing me for months. i really tried my best here, so go easy on me ♡

“Yes.”

“No.”

"We have this conversation every time. Yes.”

“No, and that’s because you won’t admit that you’re wrong,” you huff, biting back the urge to stick your tongue out at your best friend. You refuse to stoop down to his level.

“Because I’m not? Just accept it, zip-ups are better,” Minho shrugs, lightly bumping his shoulder into yours. Or at least what he thinks is lightly before he watches you stumble onto the strip of grass next to the sidewalk and almost hit a tree. 

Catching yourself, you whip your head back towards public energy #1 and glare at the sheepish smile he gives in return as the two of you continue walking past a row of quaint shops lining the vacant street. To where, you have no clue. You don’t even think he knows. Minho just texted you to be ready in ten minutes and wear something warm for another Saturday afternoon of following wherever your best friend’s feet decide to take you. 

But let’s not forget the very important topic at hand. 

“Hoodies are superior and I will not entertain any other viewpoint,” you declare, fiddling with your warm and comfortable and warm, and, oh, did you already mention warm hoodie’s drawstrings.

“What happened to your goal of being a more open-minded person this year?”

“That’s besides the point. This is entirely different,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. The chilled wind nips at your fingers before you bury them deep into the front pocket of your hoodie. 

“Sure it is,” Minho drawls with a quirk of his lips, ignoring the not-so-subtle side eye you throw at him. “Okay, I’ll humor you this time then. Why are hoodies, in your misguided judgment, so much better?” 

“Hey— okay you know what, I’m going to let that slide this time to save your from further embarrassment while I destroy your—”

“Boo, get on with it already.”

“Don’t rush me,” you scold as Minho raises his hands in a playful surrender. “Thank you. Now, as I was saying —look at me, this is serious— hoodies are an easily available and affordable luxury item; pull them over your head and bam, instant warmth.”

“How is that any different from zipping up a jacket?” Minho deapans. “You’re not very convincing, you know that right? And what if I don’t want to look disheveled with messy hair?”

“Is that supposed to be directed at me?” you ask with a laugh, hair blowing into your face. 

Minho’s smile returns. “You said it, I didn’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you continue. “I’m strong enough to admit that hoodies may be a cause for bad hair days but they’re so soft and comfortable that it’s worth it. Not to mention they’re more flattering too. Just look at me.”

“You look like you got swallowed by a fabric monster that decided you weren’t tasty enough to finish eating,” Minho teases, eyes twinkling with amusement as they scan over your heavily clothed figure. 

Okay, he’s got you there with…whatever that comparison means, but it’s not your fault you just so happened to grab the baggiest hoodie you own before rushing out the door. You can’t even think of a comeback before he’s already moving on to his next question.

“What’s wrong with how zip-ups fit anyway? I think I look fine,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You can’t argue with that one either. Fine is an understatement. The black zip-up he’s wearing compliments his physique perfectly, the not too tight or loose fabric accentuating the strong-build of his upper body. Ugh, he’s really not helping you make your case here. 

“You’re an exception,” you admit with a slight shrug of your shoulders, averting your gaze upwards as the rustling leaves above begin to fall on you both. 

Minho’s hand suddenly grabs your shoulder, halting your footsteps and causing you to look back at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. Heat rushes to your cheeks as he steps closer to you, wordlessly lifting his hand from your shoulder in favor of gently plucking out a couple of stray leaves stuck in your hair and lifting your hood over your head, shielding you further from the crisp air. 

“There, now what were you saying about me being so good-looking that I defy your zip-up expectations?” Minho chuckles, letting his hand drop back to his side. 

Your face flushes even harder. At this point, you’re not even going to need a hoodie anymore with how hot your body feels. 

“Uh, calm down, I never said that.” you defend hurriedly. ”You’re lucky I have my hands in my pocket or else you’d be the one falling on the grass.”

“Leaves you vulnerable, though.”

“Huh? What do you mea— MINHO!”

Your vision becomes blocked when Minho swiftly tugs your drawstrings, leaving only a small oval of skin exposed to the biting wind. His uncontrollable laughter dances through the air around you as you attempt to pry the hood back open, increasing in intensity when it takes you an embarrassingly longer time than it should to reveal your eyes to the world again. 

“Oh, you think that was so funny, huh?” you interrogate, glaring at his hunched over figure.

Minho stands back upright, wiping at an invisible tear. “Yeah.” 

The cheeky grin he wears slightly falters as you stalk a couple of steps forward, bringing your face closer than you ever have to his. Softer pinks hues begin to color his ears and cheeks, likely from the cold wind or his laughter, you think. 

His gaze softens as it trails down to where your hand is carefully lifting up towards his chest, finally resting flat right above the opening of his zip-up hoodie, the proximity causing a flutter in your chest. The wind begins to pick up slightly, blowing your hair into your face again. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face and tuck behind your ear, fingers delicately lingering as he opens his mouth.

“I–” he starts.

Zippppp. 

The polar breeze hits his undershirt as an involuntary shiver runs throughout his body. Your laughter rings happily in his ears, the bright sound floating in the air as it is carried by the wind. 

You pull yourself away from him, backpedaling when he sends you a faux frown threatening to break as his lips try to fight the smile blooming across his features and already residing in his eyes. Giggles escape the both of you when he takes a step forward, rezipping his jacket, before breaking into a run as your shrieking laughter and his lighthearted swears fill the empty street, footsteps echoing on the pavement.

Looks like this time, he’ll be following you. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist:  @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

@feelikecinderella

[itadores]

note: hi friends <3 l&ds has me in a chokehold rn

pairing: zayne x gn!reader

word count: 1k

tags: gender neutral reader, alcohol / alcohol intoxication, reader can fit into zayne’s coat, reader isn't explicitly mc

You exit the nightclub with a stumble. Goosebumps erupt all over your exposed skin, but the cool air is a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of the crowd of sweaty bodies that you've just escaped. You suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, and bask in the sensation of the crisp air against your heated skin. As much as clubbing with your friends is a fun affair, it feels nice to be free from the lively environment. The chatter of your friends nearby prompts you to open your eyes once more.

"It's so cold out," one of your friends complains, louder than necessary due to the alcohol in her system. Her arms are tightly folded across her body as she shivers. She murmurs her thanks to one of your other friends as they take it upon themselves to rub their hands up and down her bare arms to create some warmth. Her attention then turns to you. "Is your boyfriend here yet?" she whines.

"Hold on, let me see where he is." You slip your phone out of your pocket, checking to see if you've received any new messages. It takes you a moment to register what the words swimming on the screen are saying as you read over the latest text you’ve gotten from your boyfriend. You send a quick and hopefully coherent reply back to him before you put your phone back in its place. "He should be here any minute now. Let's go wait by the curb, so he can see us."

Your friends follow you like ducklings as you weave your way through the groups of people standing around and conversing outside the nightclub, leading them towards the edge of the sidewalk by the road to wait. Your eyes scan the street, waiting for the sight of a familiar car to enter your view. When it inevitably does, you perk up immediately.

"He's here!"

Zayne pulls right up to the curb next to you, putting the car in park but leaving it running before he gets out to join you and your gaggle of friends on the sidewalk.

"Hi Zaynie."

A weight suddenly eases onto your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold wearing just that," Zayne says in lieu of a greeting.

"I'm not that cold," you protest, pouting, but you clumsily slip your arms through the sleeves of his coat anyways.

You truly aren’t that cold, the liquor in your system doing more than enough to keep you warm, but you know that Zayne won’t let you refuse him, especially if you were to provide him with that as your excuse. Besides, Zayne's coat is much too comfortable to turn down. You bring the collar up to your nose and inhale, the familiar scent of Zayne’s cologne washing over you.

Zayne exchanges brief pleasantries with your friends before opening the car door to the backseat, allowing them to clamor inside his vehicle. He gently closes the door once he's sure they're all safely inside and then moves to open the door to the passenger seat for you.

Zayne pauses when you place your hand over the back of his, which rests on the door handle of the car.

"Thanks for picking us up again, Zayne. I know you must be really tired after such a busy week at the hospital and I know they," you toss a sideways glance at your rowdy friends in the car, who can easily be heard from outside of the car despite the windows being all the way up, "can be a lot sometimes, especially when they're drunk."

You turn your attention back to Zayne.

"I'm also drunk," you say as if it's not so incredibly apparent. It feels necessary for you tell him.

"I know," Zayne says. A small smile rests on his lips. He takes his hand off the door handle and flips his palm over to press against yours, holding your hand loosely. "I would not have offered to pick you and your friends up if I was unwilling to do so." He squeezes your hand gently. "What's most important is that you all enjoyed yourselves."

You pull your clasped hands closer to you as you lean the upper half of your body against Zayne’s side. "I had fun, but I'm glad to be here with you," you say, resting your chin against his arm as you peer up at him, your eyelids heavy. “I missed you.”

“How honest of you,” Zayne dryly remarks, though the warmth of his gaze betrays his fondness. He leans down and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead. “I missed you as well,” he murmurs against your skin. You lean further into Zayne’s touch, eyes slipping closed in contentment.

However, that all shatters soon enough.

“Let’s go, lovebirds!” your friends shout, sticking their heads out of the now fully rolled down backseat window. They motion for you to get in the car.

You loudly groan, pressing your forehead into Zayne’s shoulder. “If we ignore them, you think they’ll go away?” you mumble.

“Hey, we heard that!”

Zayne gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get your friends home safely and then we can go home ourselves. I picked up food earlier this evening from that place you like to frequent. I can reheat it for you when we get back.” Zayne lets go of your hand and opens the passenger door for you.

“I love you so much. You’re the best, thank you,” you say, giving Zayne a kiss on the cheek before you climb inside the car with his assistance.

“Of course.”

Zayne closes the door once he’s sure you’re completely inside the vehicle. He observes the way you immediately turn in your seat to face your friends in the back row, quietly chuckling to himself as you do your best to shut down their teasing about how lovesick you are for him.

Zayne walks around to the driver’s side of his car, placing his hand on the handle. If only your friends knew the truth. If they were aware of the depth of the love and care he feels towards you, they would surely be calling him lovesick as well. Perhaps, they already have an idea of the strength of his affections for you. After all, he’s not willing to play chauffeur for people around Linkon City at the request of just anybody.

[ackx-rman]

tea and you. levi ackerman

pt. IV

pt: III

Warnings: angst, blood, death, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, graphic scenes, idiots in love

the first silver of dawn had barely pierced the barracks when levi was already awake, a knot of restless energy coiling in his gut. sleep had been nonexistent that night, not even his daily three hours of sleep, it was plagued by unwelcome images: you with jean, the easy curve of your smile directed at him, the sound of your laughter echoing in levi's mind like a mockery. the memory chafed, a constant irritant beneath his skin. he's stared at the ceiling for hours, the rough texture of the wooden planks blurring in the dim light. now, the remnants of that sleepless night clung to him like a shroud, casting a deep scowl across his features. 

he pushed himself out of his bed, the floodboards groaning beneath his weight. the air in the room was stale and cold, in contrast to the burning frustration in him. he dressed quickly, his movements fast, he needed to move, to do something. 

he entered the main hall, he hoped, against his better judgment, to find you there, already at breakfast. so you can finally answer his question. the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind him, the sound echoing in the large, sparsely furnished room 

levi's gaze swept across the hall, a practiced scan that took in every detail: the early risers already huddled over steaming mugs, the clatter of cutlery against plates, the low murmur of conversations. but his eyes were searching for one thing: your face. he scanned the table, his eyes lingering on each figure, dismissing them with a flick of his gaze until they landed on an empty space. a space where you should have been. 

a deeper frown etched itself onto his face. the knowledge in his stomach tightened. he tried to ignore the sharp pang of disappointment that shot through him, a feeling he refused to acknowledge as anything other than professional concern. who am i lying to? the question echoed in his mind. the image of you and jean resurfaced and a wave of nausea washed over him. were you with him?

 where the hell were you. jealousy. jealousy. 

a new, colder fear gripped levi. what if something had happened to you during patrol? the thought pierced through his simmering anger. an image flashed through his mind: you, fallen, injured, perhaps even…he cut the thought off abruptly. no. he wouldn't entertain such possibilities. not yet. 

he turned on his heel, the abruptness of the movement almost causing him to stumble, and strode out of the mess hall. the walk to the infirmary was a blur, his mind racing, each step fueled by a growing sense of urgency. he practically burst through the infirmary doors, the sudden intrusion causing a few heads to turn. the air inside thick with the sterile scent of disinfectant and herbs, a smell he associated with pain and loss. 

his eyes frantically scanned the room, a desperate search for your familiar form among the rows of beds. each occupied bed brought a fresh wave of anxiety, each empty one a chilling premonition. he saw a few familiar faces- a cade with a bandaged leg, another with a sling- but not you. his heart pounded against his ribs, a heavy, non stopping rhythm.

then, he saw you. 

you were standing near a window, talking to a nurse. relief washed over him in a dizzying wave, so intense it almost made him weak. you were alright. you were talking, gesturing your free hand, a small smile playing on your lips as always. the tension in his shoulders erased, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

but the relief was short-lived. his gaze dropped to your arm, and his blood ran cold again. a bandage was wrapped tightly around your forearm. you were hurt. the sigh of the injury ignited a fresh surge of anger, hotter and more intense than before. it was a possessive anger, a protective fury directed at whatever had dared to harm you. 

he stopped directly beside you, his presence radiating an intensity that made the nurse subtly step back. his grey piercing eyes fixed on the bandage. the lines around his eyes deepened. 

“what the hell happened?” 

you looked up, startled to see him standing there. your eyes widened a little bit in surprise, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“oh, hey. it's nothing, really,” you began, trying to downplay the situation. “we ran into a few abnormally large titans on patrol, and…well, i got a bit of a scrape. it’s just a deep cut, nothing serious. the nurse patched me up. it's fine now. though,” you added with a slight shiver, rubbing your uninjured arm, “i think i might be catching a cold. it was absolutely freezing out there when the sun came down and we ended the pa-”

levi's eyes narrowed, his irritation spiking as you continued to ramble, dismissing your injuries as if they were mere inconveniences. the casual way you spoke about a deep cut- a wound that could easily become infected- sent a fresh wave of anger through him. 

“you idiot,” he interrupted, cutting through your words like a knife. he didn't care if he sounded harsh; someone had to make you understand the gravity of the situation. “that's not nothing. a deep cut and a cold? you're injured and potentially getting sick, and you're just talking about it as if it's a trivial matter.” his gaze intensified, his dark eyes boring into yours, a hint of worry that he quickly masked with a scowl. 

“it's not a big deal,” you repeated, rolling your eyes, a slight smirk playing on your lips. “i could be dead right now, and i'm not, and we only lost one cadet tonight. so, i'd say that's a win.”

“don't say that,” he growled, “you act like your safety and health mean nothing. you can't just brush it off as if getting a deep cut and catching a cold are trivial matters. you have no regard for your own wellbeing.”

the nurse, sensing the rising tension between the two of you, quietly slipped out of the room, leaving you and levi alone. 

“levi,” you began, you pushed yourself up from the edge of the examination table, ignoring the slight twinge in your arm. “you've sent cadets on missions with far worse injuries, even with the flu.” you tilted your head, the smirk widening. it was a valid point, and you knew it.

he hated that you were right. he had sent cadets out in far worse condition. it was the reality of their situation, the constant pressure to maintain their ranks and fulfill their duties. but this was different. this was you. you weren't just another soldier. 

“that's not the point,” levi retorted, “those were different circumstances. you're…different.” he struggled to find the right words. “you shouldn't be so reckless and careless with yourself. you should take care of yourself better.” 

“i do!” you exclaimed, your voice rising in frustration. the accusation stung. was he questioning your competence as a soldier? was he calling you irresponsible? you glanced down at the bandage of your arm. you remember the tiny scratch from a few days prior, easily concealed beneath your sleeve. this was different. this was a wound you couldn't hide. 

“do you?” levi snapped, his eyes with anger and concern. “because you say you take care of yourself, but clearly you're not doing a very good job of it. getting a deep cut and catching a cold aren't exactly signs of self-care and maintenance.” 

“what’s your problem now?” you demanded, your annoyance reaching a boiling point. his condescending tone, his scrutiny, it was all too much. every single cadet faced the risk of injury; it was the nature of their duty. why was he singling you out? 

“my problem,” levi said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “is that you won't care for yourself. you're treating this like it's nothing, as if it's just a small inconvenience.” he took a step closer, his presence looming over you. “i'ts not nothing. it's a sign that you're pushing yourself too hard, that you're not valuing your own life”

“it was just a patrol, levi,” you repeated, your voice laced with exasperation. “i got hurt, that's it. i'm not dead, you know. this kind of thing happens all the time. i'm not the first cadet to get injured in battle. you're making it sound like i'm…i'm…” you trailed off, sighing heavily. 

“i know that,” his frustration reaching a new peak. of course, he knew injuries were a common occurrence. he'd witnessed far worse. but your stubbornness was driving him to the edge. “but that doesn't mean you should take your injuries lightly, especially when you're already getting sick,” then fueled by anger and a desperate need to make you understand, he said something he instantly regretted. something he shouldn’t have said. 

“i don't want that kind of soldier in my squad” 

your expression changed instantly. the annoyance and frustration were replaced by a look of stunned disbelief, followed by an almost painful flash of hurt. without a word, you tuned abruptly, quickening your pace, desperate to escape the suffocating  weight of his words.

levi instantly realizing the impact of his harsh statement, felt a pang of guilt shoot through him. he hadn't mean it the way it sounded. he hadn't meant to imply that he didn't value you as a soldier, as a person, gosh, you were the most perfect person and soldier he had ever met. he just wanted you to understand…to care about yourself as much as he did. 

he wasn't about to let you walk away. with a swift movement, he closed the distance between you, his hand firmly grasping your uninjured arm, halting your progress. his grip was firm, but not painful.

“don't walk away from me when i'm talking to you,” he said, his tone stern, yet laced with desperation. he needed to explain himself, to take back those hurtful words. 

“we're not talking,” you snapped. you tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he held firm. “this is nonsense.” you couldn't believe he had said that. after everything, he'd just…dismissed you like that. did he even realize how much his words stung? did he even care?

“damn it, this isn’t nonsense, and you know it,” levi said, frustrated. he hated this, he hates when you are mad at him. 

“i’m going to rest now,” you said, voice sharp and cold. you wrenched your arm free from his grasp, the sudden movement causing a sharp twin in your injured arm, which you promptly ignored. without another word, you turned and stormed away.

“hey, wait a damn minute. i’m not done talking to you,” levi called after you. desperate. 

“but i am,” you replied back, the finality of your voice was like a slap in the face.

you reach your room. slammed the door shut behind you, the resounding thud echoing through the hallway, a clear message to levi that the conversation was over, at least for now.  you leaned against the door for a moment, catching your breath, your heart still pounding in your chest. this was becoming a frustratingly regular occurrence.

levi stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door. a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. he knew he’d messed up, that his harsh words had only pushed you further away. he watched the door for a long moment. he wanted to knock, to demand that you open up and listen to him, but he knew that would only make things worse. he had to give you espace, but leaving you upset and injured, distress him.

he made a decision. he leaned against the wall beside your door, crossing his arms over his chest. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes remained fixed on the wooden panel, as if he could see through it, as if he could somehow reach you through the barrier you’d erected. he would wait. he would wait, no matter how long it took. he would wait until you got out, even if it meant standing there all day. 

jean, passing by, spotted levi standing rigidly outside your door. he approached, a concerned expression on his face. 

“oh, captain,” he began, “i was just going to check on her. she has a pretty deep cut-” 

levi’s irritation, which had been simmering, flared up again. perfect. just what he needed. jean, arriving to further complicate the situation. he didn’t even bother to turn around, his gaze remaining fixed on your door, as if willing to open. “i know,” he replied tersely, dismissively. 

“uh, okay?” jean replied, a bit taken aback. he paused, glancing from levi to the closed door, confusion in his eyes. he raised a hand as if to knock, to see if you were feeling better.

“wait,” levi pushed himself away from the wall, and walked towards jean, blocking his path to your door. he wasn’t going to let jean barge in and see you before  he had a chance to speak with you himself. 

“don’t knock,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “her door is closed, she’s probably sleeping. you should leave her alone for now.” his eyes a silent warning to jean to heed his words.

his possessiveness, while perhaps a bit excessive and certainly fueled by his own complex feelings for you, stemmed from a deep-seated care. he wanted to shield you, to create a space where you could heal. he wanted to be the one to offer you comfort and reassurance, the one to ensure you were alright. it was, in a twisted way, his attempt to keep the promise he had made to you, even though he is the one who fucked up with his words this time. 

“but-” jean began, but levi cut him off

“no buts. i said she's probably sleeping, and we shouldn't disturb her. you can come back later if you want to talk to her,” and with that he ended the conversation

jean, sensing the finality in levi’s tone and not wanting to push the issue with his captain, simply nodded and went down the hallway towards his room. he cast one last curious glance back at levi standing guard outside your door before disappearing around the corner. 

levi watched jean go away. he stood outside your door, a wave of uncertainty washing over him. were you truly asleep, or were you simply ignoring him? did he cross the line with his harsh words? of course a part of him hoped it was the former, that you were resting and recovering. but another part, a more selfish part, wished you would open the door and let him in. 

meanwhile, inside your room, you were most definitely not asleep. you were lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, a small smile playing on your lips. you knew levi’s routine when the two of you were at odds. you were certain he’d be pacing outside your door, replaying the argument in his head, overthinking every possible scenario. but this time he had been hard on you, he hurted you, but you knew deep down that he was regretting it. 

what you hadn’t anticipated was jean’s visit. it was a kind gesture, you knew, and you appreciated his concern. but the real entertainment, if you could call it that, came from overhearing levi’s overprotective behaviour. it was funny. 

ever since he’d made that promise to you a year ago- a promise to protect you- he’d been like this. it was subtle at first, but it gradually intensified over time. sometimes, you’d catch other cadets glancing at him curiously, their brows furrowed in confusion, wondering why the captain was so unusually protective over you. even you didn’t always understand the depth of his concern. but you felt his concern for you ever since your first real conversation, the moment he had personally chosen you for his squad. 

but at the same time, you knew he knew you were capable of anything. you were, without a doubt, the strongest woman he’d ever met in his life, both physically and mentally. he’d seen you in action countless times, since you were training, witnessed your determination, your relentless drive, your sheer refusal to give up, even in the face of impossible odds. he knew that if anyone could literally defeat him in a sparring match, it was going to be you. he’d even admitted it once, after a particularly grueling training season where you’d nearly bested him. 

you knew, deep down, that he felt a fierce pride in your abilities, a quiet admiration for your strength. it was a pride he rarely expressed verbally, but it was there, evident in the way he watched you during training, in the subtle nods of approval he gave after a successful maneuver, in the way his eyes lingered on you just a fraction longer than they did on other cadets. 

part. V

author's note: i'm just gonna say: bring back yearning men. also next chapter it's gonna be a flashback too, i love that the story goes from past and present so you can understan better the characters. i hope you guys are loving it as much as i do. thank you all for the love. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[sinstear]

more lawyer!abby pleaseeeeeeee

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐘𝐄𝐑!𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 | 03.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PART ONE | PART TWO

mwah mwah, course baby. sorry it’s late, I got a little lost on what to add :( ♡

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby will always get a tie the same color as your own outfit choice if she takes you out for a meal. She either has to match you or will make a big deal out of it, refusing to leave the house until she’s found something that exactly matches.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby is thankful when you’re there to help her when she’s getting stressed out. Her job is hard, and sometimes she puts herself down when she feels like she can’t do anything to help someone, and that’s when you step in, quick to remind her that she is doing amazing and she can do it.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby owns many cars. Cheap and expensive, she doesn’t really care much about them but she is always thankful that they have tinted windows because she’s a risky woman, and no matter where she goes or what she’s up to, she can’t help herself when she slides her hand up your thigh, gripping the flesh tightly while in the middle of a phone call, enjoying the way you squirm on the seat and suck in a breath through your teeth, clenching your legs around her hand when they make their way to where you need her.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby who has fucked you in pretty much every car she owns. She simply doesn’t care about when and where. You always look so fuckin’ pretty and she can’t keep her hands off you. You could simply be eating an ice cream and that would turn her on, and end up with the both of you in the back seat of her car with her fingers so deep in your cunt that all you can do is grip tightly onto her expensive suit jacket, and bite down on her shoulder. Even though she hates it when you try hiding your pretty sounds.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby brags about you to everyone she works with or meets at a meeting. Shit, she doesn’t even care if its a new client she’s met, she will mention how it was you who helped her pick out a certain suit or it was you who picked up this new coffee she was trying. Abby brought you up in every conversation, even during the long hours she was sat setting up and helping with a new case. You were on her mind 24/7.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby spends a lot of free time looking at engagement rings. She knows she wants to marry you and spend the rest of her life with you, but sometimes she doesn’t know which ring to buy because in her mind, you deserve every single one and more.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby loves it when you cuddle her. There is something about having her face tucked in the crook of your neck after a long day, some old clothes on her body, a movie on the TV with your fingers running through her hair that has her content, comfortable, and warm. She hated being away from you for such long hours but she cherished when she could finally be home with you.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby enjoys when you cook her meals, but also adores being able to cook them for you after you’ve had a hard day at work. The woman will literally be by the door when you stumble in, hands already working on removing your coat for you and handing you a glass of wine while she waits for the food she prepared for you, to cook in the oven. 

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby who yes, will daydream about starting a family with you. It’s not something she’s ready to bring up in conversation just yet though in case you weren’t ready for it, but she’s always imaging what it would be like to come home, find you and your child in the living room, watching a movie or even in the kitchen, baking cookies or whatever you wanted to make that day.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby acts like a literal child on Christmas day when you buy her any kind of new book. She’s a book worm and that’s actually how she first met you, so it makes you happy when her eyes light up and she’s taking the fragile book from your hands with the utmost care and examining the cover, the back, as well as the pages inside.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby has no shame in eyeing you up whenever you’re sitting on her office, neatly resting on one of the chairs opposite her desk. She doesn’t even hide the fact she wants nothing more than to either have you perched on her desk with her face between your thighs or have you bent over the wooden surface, and working her strap in your cunt.

[ceratedfish24]

I think the first time Scott did something kind to Etho he didn't even realize it was a big deal, just reflexivly did it and immediately thought nothing/forgot about it, and Etho is left standing frozen eyes wide like oh snap I'm interested in this guy now. So Etho starts watching Scott from a distance now and notices how Scott keeps doing these kind things for other people and that's how he falls in love.

YES!!! YES! YES! YES! Scott is so kind to everybody he meets, and Etho is so used to fighting for his life and becoming a product of by his circumstances, whereas Scott is so stubbornly kind, refusing to let his hardships corrupt his loving nature. It happens when Etho is scoping out the competition right before 3rd Life, and Scott is going around introducing himself to everyone. Right after Etho finishes a playful stare down with Bdubs, this pretty boy comes right up to him, an enemy to be, offers him a smile, and wishes him luck in a game they’re both about to compete in. Immediately after, Grian calls Scott over to make fun of him, which means Scott didn’t really get any time to think about Etho’s reaction. “You can’t be nice to the competition, Scott! We’re going to war! Stop making my game friendly!” Etho just watches him go… He can’t actually be that friendly, right? Well, he really was, and he continued to be.

Scott excitedly congratulates Grian on his win. He defies the Boogeyman Curse instead of going after his teammate. He sacrifices himself for Pearl. He has no resentment towards Martyn after Limited Life. He teams with Gem, a new player who may be in need of guidance. He treats Cleo’s win with all the seriousness and excitement of a full-length season’s win. He negotiates and reaches out to Etho, who has never done anything for Scott or grown close to him or proved himself to be a good teammate for other people.

And, on top of all of that, Scott does really well.

At first, Etho assumes that Scott is just really kind to people he’s close to, such as Jimmy, Cleo, and Pearl, but then Scott extends his kindness to Etho in Limited Life, making polite conversation with him despite them being on different teams and having so much more time than anyone on Etho’s team. Then, in Secret Life, Scott humors him even though he knows that Etho’s trying to distract Scott from pursuing Bdubs during the infamous game of tag. At the time, Etho couldn’t explain why he found himself stumbling over his words, as he found himself so distracted by how the light reflected in Scott’s eyes. Finally, Wild Life is what tears Etho open like a gash in a place he already knew was tender. Etho isn’t oblivious, at least not to his own feelings. He’s known that he’s felt something for Scott for a long time, but a crush isn’t exactly an optimal in a death game.

Scott, so willing to grant Etho a place on the Gs, smiles and shrugs and tells Etho that he doesn’t care if Etho’s “not a good teammate”, and Etho’s heart bursts in his chest. He’s been given a chance that he doesn’t feel as though he’s earned from someone who doesn’t know him all that well. Everything that’s been buried deep in his chest finally erupts to the surface and he wants to grab Scott and get him somewhere safe and warm. He wants to hold this man’s hand and be as close to him as physically possible, but he can’t. They’re in the middle of a death game. Etho isn’t about to dump all of his years of internalized yearning onto Scott in the middle of a death game. They can talk afterwards.

Except, of course, Etho manages to create a more urgent matter to talk to Scott about after Wild Life. If they were a mainstream pairing, there would be two hundred fics about that kill by now.

[soukokuforthesoul]

it was becoming an unconscious instinct for chuuya to pick up his phone after several glasses of wine. his fingers moved by themselves, tapping through the apps until he found dazai’s contact. he clicked call, ignoring how his head throbbed as he slumped down on the couch. it rang four times before dazai answered, and with the sudden lack of the ringtone, silence nestled in.

“slug?” came a soft, tentative voice from the phone. it was unlike dazai’s usual tone, devoid of any teasing and triumphant grins. to be reached out by chuuya had always egged onto dazai’s ego, and he wouldn’t miss a chance to brag about how his dutiful dog finally admitted that he needed him. but this time, he seemed almost worried. then again, he should be. why hadn’t chuuya deleted his contact? even with every reason he’d given him to.

chuuya blinked wearily, then opted to close his eyes. he struggled with himself for a moment before speaking. “where are you?”

“we shouldn’t call,” dazai said, instead of answering the question. he was stern, now. but the firmness in his voice was gentle. as if he was coaxing a child into sleeping, trying to show them that it would help. “are you drunk?”

chuuya mumbled something of assent, then promptly changed his mind and shook his head. he realized, a moment later, that dazai couldn’t see him. “no. not drunk. i‘m dizzy, though. where are you?” he repeated. he demanded, more like. he grumbled at the phone when no answer came.

“go to sleep, chuuya,” dazai finally said, sounding defeated. but he made an effort to twist his voice into a mildly chiding one. “you’ll get scolded if you come into work drunk.”

“scolded,” chuuya echoed, vaguely amused. “i’ve handled worse. where are you?”

dazai sighed, evidently growing tired of chuuya’s persistence. “learn to give up one day,” he huffed. he seemed to be trying to be quiet. deliberately whispering. as if speaking louder would break whatever spell had chuuya calling him. “i can’t tell you where i am.”

“why? are you lost?”

“no.” dazai’s exasperation was clear. but he continued. “but you’ll try to find me. and we can’t have that, can we?”

“why?” chuuya sat up, head throbbing at the movement. he stared at his phone, then turned it on speaker. he was tired of holding it up. with his hands free, his phone sitting on the couch, chuuya grabbed the bottle of wine, frowning at how light it was. he pressed it to his lips, tipping it up and hissing, “shit…” when nothing came from it. he tried again, but it was fruitless. nothing would come of trying again on something so obviously futile.

as he sulked over the empty bottle, dazai spoke, his voice loud through the phone with the sound turned up high. “even i thought you were a bit smarter than that, chibikko,” he was saying. “we both know you’d regret it tomorrow morning. go drink some water.”

after a moment’s consideration, chuuya heeded dazai’s order and stumbled over to the sink. he leaned down, opening his mouth and drinking straight from the tap. he stood up, swallowed, then went back to the couch to sit beside dazai—or, well, his phone which held dazai.

he seemed mildly sobered up now, but only enough to stop pushing dazai for his location. instead, he took the phone into his hands, fingering the volume buttons before turning the sound down a notch. “why’d you leave?” he asked, staring at the screen. several times, his eyes glazed over the name before he registered the simple, lowercased ‘mackerel.’ he smiled subconsciously at it, nearly missing dazai’s response.

“go to sleep, chuuya.” it was a demand, firm and without room for argument. unfortunately, chuuya was known for his resolute refusal to comply to dazai most of the time. this was one of such times.

“i‘m not tired,” chuuya said flatly. he paused. “when are you coming back?”

dazai hesitated. he let out a breath, the sound close to the microphone. “chibi,” he tried. he was exhausted from this conversation alone. chuuya was much too stubborn. “i’m not going to. you know that.”

yes, chuuya knew that. but he didn’t want to.

“i want you to,” he mumbled. he was truly an idiot. vulnerability had no right in a member of the port mafia.

“chuu-“

“never mind.” the water was beginning to do its job, albeit slowly. chuuya blinked, rubbing his eyes. “i’ll sleep. good night, mackerel.”

he hesitated only a moment, finger hovering over the red button before he clicked it. dazai managed a ‘good bo-,’ cutting off as the call ended.

chuuya stared at the screen, gazing at the word ‘mackerel’ for a full minute, suddenly hating himself for allowing the contact to reside in his recent calls. he bit his lip, blinking and turning his phone off. he tossed it somewhere on the sofa, curling into a ball and closing his eyes. fuck this. he silently promised himself to delete dazai’s number tomorrow. as if he hadn’t memorized it ages ago. as if he’d actually go through with his promise. as if he wouldn’t repeat the process all over again until dazai stopped answering the calls altogether for both their sakes.

chuuya truly was terrible at letting people go.