hand on hip

boy: do you wanna be my girlfriend? *offering me a box of chocolates*

me: sorry i have a boyfriend already

boy: who?

jaehyun: *ride in on a bike with training wheels wearing a helmet, takes 15 minutes just to cross the 5 ft distance between us, carefully gets off bike, takes off helmet, hold helmet between his arm and abdomen, strikes a dad pose with his hands on his hips, notices the chocolates and snatches it out the guy’s hand*

jaehyun, with a mouthful of chocolates: sup

jaehyun: *chokes*

3

Negan is an experience for itself.
But drunken Negan is a thing you can’t barely handle.
“(Y/N)!” He shouts like you’d stand on the other side of the Sanctuary.
The roughness of his voice echoes into your head as you turn around to him.
“What?” You ask playfully lovingly, making him cackle.
You raise your eyebrow as he slaps your ass before he grabs your left butt cheek and pulls you closer.
“Wanna mess around?” He asks in his most charming voice.

And hell, did he wink at you?

“With me?”
You almost faint from the smell of whiskey.
His other hand wanders to your hip and now you’re pressed on his erection.
Half amused of his pathetic flirtation and half disgusted by his thing on your stomach you return the favor with the slap.
“Ugh. The fuck?”
Negan holds his cheek and looks at you like a threaten puppy.
“When you ever put your paws on me again I’ll castrate you with my teeth!”
“Heh, is that a fuckin’ promise?” Negan asks and you snort in disbelief.
“Eh (Y/N), wait.”
But you don’t wait for this dickhead instead of you turn around to him and show him your middlefingers. He’s so appalled, staring at you with his round eyes and open mouth that you start laughing.


“Stupid bitch.” Negan babbles to himself before he goes upstairs to the penthouse.
All these fucking stairs.
They’re like every-fucking-where.
And his head feels like a carousel. But he’s still hard like a fucking baton.
‘That fits.’ He thinks with a giggle before he slams the door to the penthouse open.
“Wives!”
The penthouse is almost empty, only Stephanie and Anne are sitting on a table and playing some fucking cards.
He narrows his eyes and goes closer to them. They ignore him, but that doesn’t stop him from staring.
Stephanie has some nice tits, but Anne’s are bigger.
Any bet that (Y/N) has also some pretty titties.
His dick pounding expectantly against his pants and he grabs it to bring it in a more comfortable position.
“Look at this.”
He puts his bulge on the table and it looks pathetic small now. Anne risks a glare and sighs annoyed before she continues the card game.
“Not in the fucking mood?” He asks pouting and unison they shake their heads.
Still pouting he leaves them alone and decides to give himself a handjob.
His pussy radar seems broken.
He falls on his bed which cracks under his weight and opens his pants, pushing it down.
The precum moistens his hand as he jerks himself off.
With his eyes closed and a handful dick he thinks about (Y/N). Her hand felt tiny on his cheek.
Fuck, his dick would look fucking huge in it.
With this thought he falls asleep.

“Jesus Negan, seriously?” Sherry asks him the next morning after she opened the door.
He’s still holding his dick like it’s the holy grail.

What the fucking fuck happened last night?


Tagging: @lupienne @kinkozan @redisunamused 

anonymous asked:

So I don't know what this is, but it happened at work. I was having a small issue with a customer, and my male manager came up behind me and pressed his body flush against me. He put his right hand on my lower hip (the top of my ass) and (since my hand was resting on the counter) his hand came soooooooo close to lacing between my fingers. Basically I was trapped between the cash stand and my manager. He did this in front of a customer. Thing is, this sort of thing has happened before in private

Winteriron Mermaid AU Pt. 23

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 11 /Part 12/Part 13/Part 14/ Part 15/ Part 16/ Part 17 / Part 18/ Part 19/ Part 20/ Part 21/ Part 22    

“Don’t put that there, Wade.” Tony snatched a smooth stone out Wade’s hands and set it on one of the smaller walls of the fort they were building. “These kind of rocks are perfect for the foundation, and foundation is everything.”

Wade sneered, hands going to his hips. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” Peter countered as he set a rock of his own next ton Tony’s.

Tony examined the rock briefly. He smiled and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Perfect, Peter.”

Peter beamed. “How much longer until our fort is finished?”

“Depends on how many times I have to correct Wade.”

Wade huffed and crossed his arms. He turned to Bucky. “I was wrong about him being too good for you. He’s just as much of a jerk as you are.”

“At least he’s not a brat who goes around stirring up trouble all the time.”

“Don’t call Peter a brat,” Wade’s face flushed red with anger.

Peter rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

Tony stifled a chuckle.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched at the happy sound.

Bucky was surprised just how much joy he got out of seeing Tony happy. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t confuse him a little. Honestly, a lot of things about Tony and their situation confused him. He still wasn’t sure how he had fallen for Tony when he was a Lander; although, now at least he felt like he had some understanding of how it had happened.

Tony was nice with just the right amount of sass to keep Bucky entertained. He tended to keep to himself, but Bucky suspected that may have had more to do with the situation they were in and less of Tony’s normal state. Whenever Tony was relaxed and happy he talked more. He could keep pace with Wade, which was an amazing feat on its own.

The way Tony talked about Lander things was enrapturing—when the thought of his former life didn’t send him into a somber mood. When Tony was excited and talking about Lander things, such as cheese burgers, cars, and robots (Bucky still wasn’t sure he understood what a robot was, but it sounded awesome), his eyes sparkled and the smile never left his face. His voice was an orchestra of delight, and he always waved his hands to emphasis his favorite parts.

It was in the moments that Bucky found himself leaning in more—touching Tony more. So many times he’d been tempted to interrupt Tony just so he could kiss him. In his mind right then Tony and him were mates—not potential ones, but mates who loved and took care of each other.

Then always something would pull Bucky out of his reverie, and he’d remember the truth: that Tony and  him weren’t mates. They may not ever become mates after everything that had happened to them.

The thought made his heart weep, and as always the strong emotion brought with it confusion.

Perhaps for Tony their relationship was months old, but everything was still new to Bucky, yet he already felt so strongly for Tony.

He didn’t know if his feelings were residual—something the spell had been unable to take away from him, or if he really was falling for Tony as fast and hard as he seemed to be.

It was terrifying yet thrilling.

A small seashell bopped Bucky on the forehead.

Bucky blinked.

Tony grinned wickedly at Bucky. He picked up another small seashell off the ground and threw it at Bucky. “Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to help with the fort?”

Bucky exaggeratedly hummed in thought. “Maybe I’ll build my own fort and lock you away inside of it. Then I get to keep you all to myself.”

“Nu-huh!” Peter and Wade latched onto Tony’s arms and glared at Bucky. “He’s ours.”

Tony chortled. “Sorry, Bucky, the kids have spoken.”

Bucky huffed in feigned annoyance, but his act was marred by the huge smile on his face. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to have to deal with their crying.”

“We don’t cry!” Wade protested.

“Wade, I’ve carried you back to the pod while you were sobbing and getting snot all over my shoulder.”

“Liar!”

Wade swam up to Bucky and began punching him in the shoulder.

Bucky sighed and held up his hand so Wade could punch his palm instead.

“Can I just say you two make the best comedy duo ever?” Tony asked.

Bucky and Wade feigned disgust with each other.

<<<Previous | Next>>>

It began innocuously enough. Ginny got mountains of fan mail, most of it she never saw. The mountains she did see were heavily screened and then had to go through Amelia before they got to her. She when she found the rose in her locker, she didn’t even question it. Going out, she smirked around the clubhouse. “Guys, I appreciate the gesture, but if you’re going to get me flowers, you need to get one for everyone.”

The guys looked at each other in confusion. Mike did a swooping glare around the room. Ginny waited, hand on her hip. No one fessed up to the flower. “Well…thanks.” She turned and walked back into her part of the clubhouse. Mike came in a second later.

“No one knows who it is….” He said, plopping down into her chair. “Or someone’s lying.” He grumbled.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well with you glaring daggers at them like an angry grizzly bear, I’d lie about it too.” She said.

“I wasn’t glaring.” Mike snapped. He met her eyes, his expression guilty. Ginny swallowed and looked at the ground. It had been weird between them ever since his trade to Chicago had fallen through.

“It wasn’t the expression so much as the grizzle that came with it.” She mimed stroking a beard. Mike snorted.

“Whatever, Baker.” He turned his gaze to the flower. Reaching out he, ran his fingers on the edge of the petal. “Do you like…this kind of thing?” His voice was soft, uncertain. Ginny tilted her head.

“Roses are nice.” She said. “But I like irises better.”

Mike nodded. “Good to know.” He stood, cracking his back. “Your chair is crap, by the way.”

Ginny looked at the ceiling, shaking her head. “It’s exactly the same as your chair, old man.” She said.

“Mine is molded to my butt.” Mike retorted.

“I guess with how long you’ve been here it’s a miracle you haven’t worn a hole all the way through.”

“Oooh.” Mike smirked as he reached for the door handle. Shooting one last glance at the rose, he left.




The second rose came a few days later after a particularly hard game which the Padres barely managed to win. Ginny and Mike were both irritated with Duarte, whose grandstanding had nearly lost them the game. Mike was muttering angrily about showing off and something Ginny couldn’t catch about Jedi as he followed her into her part of the clubhouse.

“I don’t remember inviting you in.” She said, blocking his entrance. He stopped abruptly, looking dazed as though he hadn’t realized that he’d done anything strange.

“The next game is crucial, Rookie, we need to win it if we want to qualify for the wildcard.”

“Yeah, well.” Ginny pushed him back slightly. “I need to change and you…” she grimaced. “Need a shower.”

Mike looked affronted. “This is what ballplayers smell….” He trailed off, frowning at something behind her.

“What?” She asked, turning around to look where he was looking. “Oh.” She caught sight of the rose. “That’s new.”

Mike’s brow was furrowed. “Baker, do you know who sent it to you?”

Ginny shook her head. “Probably someone who thought I’d need cheering up after a long game.”

Mike pulled off his hat, looking annoyed, but nodded before leaving. Ginny walked over to the rose, unsure whether she was flattered by this secret admirer, or unsettled.





From then on roses began appearing all over the place. They were left at the bars the team went to, at the hotel’s front desk. It began to get unsettling. Then the notes began. Simple typed ones that declared the mysterious admirer’s undying love for Ginny. When she came back to the hotel for a drink at the bar with the guys only to find a fresh bouquet of roses with a new note, she felt her chest constrict as black dots swam in front of her eyes. Mike grabbed her before she hit the floor, picking her up and taking her straight to her hotel room, his knees be damned, and calling Amelia. Ginny had just come to when her agent burst into her room. Mike was pacing like a caged animal. He shoved the card at Amelia.

“This isn’t funny any more.” He growled.

“It never was.” Amelia replied, reading the card, her eyebrows raised. “I’ve had the police conduct an investigation since the second one.” She looked over at Ginny before putting the card in her pocket.

“What does it say?” Ginny asked. Amelia shook her head. “Amelia.”

“It says ‘I can’t live without you’” Mike replied, ignoring the look of irritation Amelia shot him. “She has a right to know.”
“I’ve called the police and increased security.” Amelia said.

“Have you ever considered that it might be one of the security guys who’s doing this?” Mike asked. Amelia looked at him in disbelief. “It’s someone with access to Petco that knows her movements, though thanks to Elliot live tweeting her every move that could be anyone.”

Amelia gaped at him. “Don’t put this on me. I’m trying to protect her.”

“Well she isn’t safe here.” Mike snapped.

Ginny looked at the flowers on the table, feeling as though she’d vomit. Mike caught sight of her expression and moved to stand in front of them.

“Don’t accept them.” Mike said. “better yet, go outside and make sure a paparazzi video tapes you tossing them. Or burning them.”

“Absolutely not.” Amelia said. “Right now, this person seems to want Ginny to like them. If she shows a negative reaction towards their gifts, they could turn dangerous.”

Ginny bit her lip, looking away. She felt angry, scared and powerless. How could this person have done this to her? “I want them out.” She said. “I want them out of this room, I don’t care what happens to them, just make them go away. Make it stop.” She felt a lump in her throat and realized there were tears coming down her cheeks. “Make it stop.” She repeated. Mike moved so he was next to her, pulling her to his side, his arms around her shoulders.

“Hey.” He said. “You don’t have to stay here.” He glared at Amelia, daring her to contradict him. “If you’d feel safer somewhere else…”

Ginny opened her mouth to say Blip and Evelyn’s but…she couldn’t put their family in danger.

“There’s always my place.” Mike said softly.

“Your fish tank?” Amelia said.

“My bullet proof fish tank with cameras on every door and fence with a state of the art security system.” He replied. “Baker, just say the word and you can stay as long as you need.”

She nodded.






Mike opened the door and led her into the large open entrance of his house. Ginny fidgeted, playing with the ends of her sleeves. Mike looked at her and gave her a small smile. “Hey.” He walked over to the glass wall that showed out onto the pool, tapping it. It didn’t sound like regular glass. “Bullet proof. You could throw a fastball at it and it wouldn’t crack…though I can see why that statement wouldn’t make you feel better.”

The joke gave Ginny something besides the twisting nervousness in her gut to focus on. She frowned at him. “Seriously, old man?” She said. He shrugged.

“So, I have food.” He motioned to his fridge. “Though I didn’t prepare for a Ginny Baker appetite, so by tomorrow I’ll probably have to go grocery shopping.”

Ginny snorted that the image that statement conjured up. Mike in a wholefoods, looking at potatoes. s

“What?” Mike said. “I gotta eat, somehow.”

“I just figured you had your food delivered.” She said.

“I’m not too old to get my own groceries, Baker.” He said.

She ran her fingers over the strap of her bag, nervous and skittish. Mike motioned for her to follow him.

“I only have one room.” He said, “So I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I can’t do that to your knees.” Ginny protested.

“Baker.” Mike stopped halfway up the stairs. “I invited you here. My house, I get to say who sleeps where. Plus, everything in here is temperpedic or memory foam or some other orthopedic shit my doctor had me buy, down to the pool mats. Believe me, sleeping on the couch won’t do anything worse than 15 years of baseball has already done to my knees.”

Ginny followed him, still unsure.

“So I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of guests.”

“Not the type that require a separate bedroom.” Mike replied. The second floor of his apartment had a game room, another tv room before the door to his bedroom. Ginny was faintly amused by the sheer macho bachelor aspect of his place.

“I’m going to get second hand testosterone poisoning.” She mumbled, looking around. Mike scoffed. “Seriously. It’s like a man cave crossed with the fortress of solitude.”

“You realize you basically called me superman?” Mike asked. Ginny arched an eyebrow.

“Superman doesn’t have a beard.” She replied. Mike opened the door to his bedroom and paused. The two of them stood at the threshold, unsure how to proceed. Now that she’d calmed down from her earlier anxiety attack she realized how much of line she was crossing by being here. This was Mike’s home and in front of her was his bed. Sure, she wouldn’t be sleeping with him, but…memories of the night she’d thought he’d get traded played through her mind. How close the two of them had come to crossing the line. How much she’d wished that he hadn’t gotten that call. It wasn’t that she was upset that he’d stayed. It was that she’d wanted to know what it would have been like and she’d been willing to break her no ballplayers rule for him.

Mike must have been thinking the same thing because when she looked at him, he cleared his throat and waved an embarrassed hand towards the bed, stepping back, away from the door. “There’s fresh sheets and towels in the closet, I’ll… “ He cleared his throat, running a hand over the back of his head. “I’ll just go downstairs and start cooking for that army that lives in your stomach.”

Ginny nodded. He turned and walked back towards the stairs.

“Mike.” She called out, the use of his first name sounding high pitched and strange to her ears. He froze, not turning. “Thanks.” She choked out. He turned and looked at her, his eyes dark and pensive.

“Any time.” He said.







The roses stopped for about a week. Ginny was relieved and threw all her focus into the game. They were in LA when it happened. She’d just come back to the hotel after a night hanging out with Cara when she found the door to her hotel room hanging open. Her bag had been torn to shreds a bunch of crushed rose petals had been strewn everywhere and the word “whore” was written in red all over the walls, mirrors, windows. Her scream drew Salvamini, who was three rooms down from her. One look around the room and he pulled her out, calling the police, then Mike and Blip.

“What the hell happened?” Mike growled as he and Blip burst into Sal’s room.

“Someone trashed Baker’s room.” Sal said. Blip pulled Ginny into a hug. Mike hovered behind them, his hand on Ginny’s shoulder. There was a knock on the door. A police detective walked in, followed by Amelia.

“Ms. Baker?” The detective tried to give Ginny her most comforting smile. “I’m going to need you to tell me what happened and if you saw anything suspicious.”

“It was her stalker.” Mike said. “The same guy who’s been creeping around her in San Diego.”

“Mr. Lawson.” The detective cut him off. “You’re not helping.”

“I don’t know what happened?” Ginny said. “My friend Cara came up around 7 to pick me up. We had a drink from the mini bar and then…we left and hung out at her friend’s place. I came back about an hour ago and…” The image of the red ‘whore’ written across the room flashed in her mind.

“Why would someone want to do this to you?” The detective asked.

“Because the guy is a goddamn psychopath, that’s why?” Mike grumbled.

Ginny put her hand on Mike’s arm, squeezing it before saying. “I think…it has something to do with me moving. This person was sending me…gifts, usually roses with a note and…I moved in with…” She couldn’t say Mike. “A friend.” She compromised. “So they would have a more difficult time accessing me.”

“The person probably thought she betrayed them.” Amelia supplied. Ginny was grateful. She didn’t want the questions to continue. “Anything from the security cameras?”

“We’re getting a warrant for them now. The hotel’s being a bit uncooperative, something about wanting to shield the privacy of its guests.”

“Really?” Amelia said. Turning, she walked out of the room and Ginny almost pitied the poor desk clerk she was going to terrorize.

The detective looked at Ginny. “Is there somewhere you can stay?”

“I-“

“Yes.” Mike said. Blip and Sal, who’d been standing in the corner, raised their eyebrows at his rapid answer. He glared at them, daring them to say something. Ginny nodded, just wanting the nightmare to be over.

“Are you sure, Mr. Lawson?” The detective asked. “It seems to me that her being close to you might anger the stalker more.”

“I don’t give a damn what the stalker wants.” Mike growled.

“I’ll stay with him.” Ginny said, cutting off the detective’s next words. She felt safe with Mike. The detective left her number and promised to contact Amelia the second they had any leads. Mike led her out of Sal’s room and to the elevator. They rode the two stories to his room in silence. Ginny was worried that if she opened her mouth, she’d cry. The door opened and she didn’t move, unsure what to do or how to do it.

“Baker.” Mike’s voice was tentative, raw. She looked over at him and saw he was scared as well. “Ginny, I-“

She looked away, walking out of the elevator. Ever since this stalker had begun sending her those stupid roses she’d felt as though nothing had been under her control. They’d done more than scare her, they’d taken her sense of self. She had no control, no power. She wanted it back.

Mike followed her, pulling the keycard out of his pocket. She watched as he opened the door to his suite. Now that she finally looked at him, she noticed he was in his pajamas. “Did Sal wake you up?” She asked.

He let out a non-committal grunt, motioning for her to walk into his room first. The comforter on the bed had been thrown back as though someone had jumped out of bed and left in a great hurry. Ginny turned to watch as Mike shut the door and locked it with the latch. She loved the way he worried about her, that she could depend on him, even when the world around her seemed to be crumbling. Loved that he was always there with a speech or a joke or just his presence when she needed someone near. Loved that the night she’d been ready to break her no ballplayer rule for him, he hadn’t pushed, knowing that if they were together, it would have compromised her career. She loved him. Annoying jokes, beard and all. And she was sick of sidelining the things she wanted. Hadn’t she given enough for baseball? Her childhood, her father, her privacy. Hadn’t Mike given enough? He’d lost his marriage, his body. Why should the two of them sacrifice so much to something that only brought them loneliness and misery.

She didn’t notice she’d made it across the room to him until the surprised, “Ginny.” Fell from his lips. Then she kissed him. He was too shocked to respond. Her brain caught up with her, warning her that this might be a bad idea and that she’d probably ruined everything between them when he moaned and pressed her against the wall, his body against hers. “Baker.” He said. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” She whispered back, sliding her arms over his shoulders. “I want to feel something besides fear. I…”

He backed off. She gulped, her bod going cold from the absence. There was hurt in his eyes. “So…” He laughed bitterly. “You just want to fuck to erase the memory of what happened tonight.”

“No.” Ginny said. “I want you, Mike. I want to feel safe and know that there’s someone who I can trust. Who wants me because they know me. Who cares about me. I want to do this, because I love you and I’m sick of pushing away things that will make me happy because I’m scared of hypotheticals. Mike, I-“ Her voice broke and she wasn’t sure how to continue.

Mike was looking at her, frozen.

“Mike, say something.”

He licked his lips, looking at her, a longing in his eyes that she’d seen the night they’d thought he be leaving for Chicago. “You blow me away, Ginny Baker.” He whispered. Moving closer, he stopped his mouth a breath away from hers. He was waiting for her to make the next move, giving her the choice to back away. Giving her control of the situation. She pressed her lips against his, her mouth slightly open, tongue sliding over his lower lip. She savored this initial contact, sweet and empty of all pressure. Just two people learning what the other liked. Mike drew his teeth over her top lip, growling slightly as she let out a small gasp. His hands slid down her sides until they came to rest on her ass. Ginny pulled back, grinning.

“Was wondering how long it would take you to do that.” She grinned, before letting out a yelp as Mike swatted one of her cheek.

“Shut up and kiss me, Ginny.”

He pulled her away from the entrance. They stumbled blindly towards the bed, Ginny letting out a laugh as she tumbled on her back, Mike on top of her. She grinned, putting her hands on either side of his face and pulling him up for another kiss. His beard was way softer than she’d imagined, not that she’d spent anytime thinking of what it would feel like on her skin. He smirked, dragging his face lower and lower. She couldn’t help but gasp as it brushed over her collarbones. Mike let out a rumbling chuckle.

“I knew you liked the beard.”

Ginny frowned down at him. “Shut up and kiss me, Mike.”

The next few minutes were languid. Mike seemed to be taking some type of twisted pleasure in making her wait. She felt over heated and pulled angrily at his shirt, trying to get it over his head.

“There’s no rush.” Mike whispered, his hands gently easing her thighs apart and settling himself between them. They were both still wearing clothes and Ginny wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. She needed more, pushing her hips upwards, she tried to get Mike to move, but he shook his head. “Trust me, Rookie.” he smirked. “This is the right call.”

“Mike.” She groaned, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“Trust me.” He said.

Though she’d never admitted it out loud, Ginny had never truly hated the beard. But now. Now that Mike was covering her whole body with kisses, the beard causing her to shudder and jerk in ways she had never known possible, she wondered how she had ever thought his clean shaven look was better. Screaming his name, she came, gasping for air as he looked at her, awe evident on his face.

The night passed in a haze of tangled limbs and gasping sighs. For the first time since being called up from the minors, Ginny felt as though the world wasn’t spinning and threatening to tear her apart. She knew what they’d done would have consequences, but she was too elated to care.

“I love you.” Mike whispered into the darkness, squeezing her shoulder.

“I love you too.” She whispered into his side as she curled into him, clutching him tightly against her.



She was woken the next morning by someone hammering at the door. Covering her face, she groaned, not wanting to get up. Mike moved, taking away the solid warmth next to her. She reached for him, grumbling when he was too fast for her.

“It could be important, Ginny.” He said, pulling on a shirt and sweatpants. “Just a second.” He shouted, before going through his bag and tossing Ginny a clean shirt and boxers.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Right.” She said. “Because that won’t raise suspicion at all.”

Mike gritted his teeth as she sat up and let the blanket slide off her chest. “Considering that all your clothes were taken in as evidence, I’d say no, it won’t.” He glanced away. “Get dressed.” Walking over to the door, he waited until she’d pulled on the shirt and boxers before opening. Amelia walked in with a bag of clothes, coffee and a bag of pastries.

“The police have something and they want you to come down to the station.” She pushed the bag of food at her and put the clothes on the bed. “I’ll be in the lobby waiting for you in 30 minutes.” She nodded at Mike before walking out.

The detective was waiting with Amelia when she came down to the lobby. Amelia led her over to private room in the hotel restaurant. The detective pulled out her tablet and played a security video. Ginny watched as she and Cara came out of her room, laughing. “That was last night.” she said, remembering. Cara had been ribbing her for “moving in” with Mike. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Keep watching.” Amelia said softly. The camera angle switched. This time when Ginny and Cara came out of her room, There was a blonde woman coming out of a room a few doors down. She watched Ginny and Cara leave before turning and storming off. Fast forwarding a few minutes, the video showed her breaking into Ginny’s hotel room.

“I…” Ginny frowned, looking at the woman’s face. “I’ve seen her before. I think…isn’t she Stubbs’ current girlfriend?” vague memories of an introduction at a team party resurfaced. She’d met her, talked to her for a few minutes, shaken hands with her…and three days later the first rose had appeared.

“She’s been using her status as a WAG to get into the locker room.” Amelia explained. “It’s how she gained access to your locker, how she managed to get your address. How she knew which room you’d be in.”

Ginny covered her mouth.

“We’ve sent this over to the San Diego PD.” The detective explained. “They’re turning it over to the DA to get you a restraining order. As for the damage she caused here, I’m sorry but the best we can do is charge her with B&E and property damage.”

Ginny nodded numbly. “Thank you.” She said, looking between the detective and Amelia. “Thank you.”





“I’m thinking pizza tonight.” Mike threw his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, tugging her towards his car as soon as they got off the bus. “I’ll order two of course, seeing as you eat enough to feed a small country for a week in one sitting.” Ginny looked at him, surprised. “What?” He said. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I just…” She hesitated. “I thought that after we caught the stalker, you wouldn’t want me around.”

Mike scoffed. “I’ll always want you around…even if your shower singing is terrible.” Ginny rolled her eyes. They made it to his car. Getting into the passenger side, she was buckling in when he said. “I’ll point out, that I gave you the perfect opening for a beard joke.” He smirked. “And you didn’t take it. Could it be that you…like the beard?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “It was way too easy old man.”

Drabble request #51 - @nonnie Hi Sweetie! Congratulations and thank you for taking requests. If I can I would like to request a stormy weekend AU with Bucky using prompts 51, 100 and 105
[Gah, I missed Bucky cuddles]

Originally posted by love-buckybarnes

“You okay, sugar?” Bucky asks, voice thick from lack of use. You nod curtly and enter his room, your blanket dragging behind you like a cape. You hop up onto Bucky’s bed (why does it have to sit so tall?) and nestle into your blanket, and his, before reaching out to him. All without saying a word.

He chuckles and closes his door before his feet silently carry him back to you. “You came to my room at 4am to cuddle?” His hands are on his hips like he’s going to mom you, but the laughter in his eyes tells you different.

“Don’t act like you’re not excited. Get in here, your bed is cold.”

He laughs and climbs in beside you. Bucky wraps himself around like a vine, every part of him is touching every part of you. His arm drapes around your middle, buries his face in your neck.  You sigh, content with the heat radiating off of him. It’s so toasty and cozy under the pile of blankets, under Bucky.

Light flashes through his room for a moment, then the thunder rolls through outside and you feel it settle in your chest. You hum happily, nuzzling your cheek against the crown of Bucky’s head.

Your hand comes up between his shoulder blades, drawing intricate designs, adjusting the pressure randomly between caressing and scratching. His chest rumbles, it almost sounds like a purr; and you smile softly, knowing you’re pulling such a sweet, content noise from this burly man out of time.

You are really comfortable.” He mutters sleepily, and it takes everything in you to not burst into laughter, knowing that your body will jerk with the movement.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”

“Not surprised. It just needed t’be said.”

“Well, I’ll happily be your human pillow any time, Buckaroo.”

He laughs and noses at your jaw and neck, trying to find a comfortable position. “Can we stay like this all day?”

You smile softly, bringing your hand up to card your fingers through his hair. “As long as Captain Punk doesn’t make us get up, sure. We can stay in bed and cuddle. Watch some Disney movies and sleep.

He sighs slowly and relaxes into you. “That sounds perfect.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you could do one, where she and Eric get into a big fight (Like a reeeally big one) and then smth bad happens to her afterwards (like she gets hit by car or smth idk lol) and Eric has a mental breakdown? (love your blog btw!❤️).

Sure thing! Hope you enjoy! And thank you! :)


“You can’t be serious, Y/n,” Eric hisses through clenched teeth, his hands on his hips while tapping the floor with his foot. You spin around in an instant, your face flushing crimson red, hot from anger. He gives you a cold stare, his furrowed brow scornful and unforgiving. The entire evening had been filled with nothing but relentless fighting, resulting in slammed doors and a few broken dishes smashed against the floor out of rage. Your eyes were already bloodshot and swollen from crying, but Eric’s anger was unbearable and unforgiving.

“I’m not fighting anymore,” you exhale, followed with a few wet sniffles. The entire fight began suddenly, the entire exchange unexpected and surprising, the basis of the quarrel being that Eric wasn’t too pleased with a specific male companion of yours that overstepped his boundaries and began flirting with you. You repeatedly tell Eric the truth, that nothing happened and you immediately shut him down, but the answer wasn’t good enough for his liking.

“Well you’re not leaving! We have to talk about this,” he argues, his tone harsh and demanding. He tugs on your wrist as you stand halfway in the door-frame, your opposite hand pulling on the brass knob to leave. You immediately jerk back, shaking Eric’s grip off of your arm. You had no intentions on staying or trying to work things out when he wouldn’t even listen or attempt to understand. People had told you in the past that Eric definitely had a hidden mean-streak within him, but it was just now that you were experiencing it for yourself. He doesn’t try to stop you, but instead just watches you walk out of the front door into the night.

-     -    -

You shove your hands inside of your pockets, hastily walking around the bustling streets of the city, aimlessly wandering around and thinking. You loved Eric with an intense and burning passion, it was undeniable, but you weren’t sure if you could overlook his extreme anger and just forget what had happened. You’ve never seen someone so upset in your entire life, and it was alarming. Eric was never the one to hit a woman, but his shouting and harsh words were enough to scare anyone away. Your mind begins to race even more and even faster. Where to go from here? Your unanswered thoughts quickly disappear as you stare into the bright headlights of an oncoming vehicle, its horn blaring, the sound piercing your eardrums. It was too late to move, so instead you put out your arms, realizing that you were about to be crushed by a car in the middle of the street. You feel the initial impact of the hit, followed with a sea of screams and cries from innocent bystanders.

-    -    -

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, your pupils adjusting to the intense bright lighting in the room. For a moment, you are completely unaware of where you are, causing a surge of panic to course through you. Then, the various sounds of beeping monitors puts you to ease, realizing that you were in a hospital bed. You clear your throat and let out a groggy moan of pain. Once your eyes adjust to the bright room, you notice a figure hunched over in a chair, his head buried in his hands as he sobs into his palms uncontrollably. Your heart begins to race, upon realizing that it was Eric sitting across from you in the room. Once you begin moving around in your bed, his head whips around, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed red.

“Y/n?” He mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. He bolts up from his chair, immediately rushing over to your bedside to grab your hand. You give him a faint smile of reassurance, even though the intensity of your pain was rapidly becoming unbearable. He takes your hand into his own, bending down to plant kisses on the soft skin of your fingers. He hums in appreciation, closing his eyes to savor the moment.

“What happened?” You croak, looking down at your bandaged body, slightly confused as to what exactly happened. Eric grips your hand even tighter, then bends down to press his lips against your matted hair.
“You got hit by a car, and broke a lot of bones in the process,” he faintly mutters, choking back another wave of tears. After a moment he shakes his head and exhales sharply, staring at the floor,
“I shouldn’t have let you leave, it’s all my fault,” he sobs, breaking down completely in front of you. You look up at him in shock, never seeing this emotional side of Eric. He shakes his head and just continues to cry, his wailing growing louder and louder. You grab onto his hand once more, rubbing his thumb with yours.
“It’s not your fault. Sometimes people are in the wrong places at the wrong times,” you murmur, giving him a little smile. He stares at you for a moment, then nods his head and gives you a weak grin.

“I love you so much,” he whispers. his eyes intently transfixed on your bruised and scratched face. You let out a small chuckle, but immediately groan with pain.
“Even when I look like this?” You tease, watching as Eric’s eyes light up with happiness. He lets out a genuine laugh, then nods, grabbing your hand tightly.
Especially when you look like this,” he replies, bending down to plant a small kiss on the side of your temple.

2

The bell rang shrilly, and the children got up out of their seats. Rebeca followed them as the slowly filed out of the classroom, and bid her goodbye. 

“Goodbye, Marcia, don’t forget your gym clothes tomorrow! Billy, you get your parents to sign that permission slip, okay? Get home safely, see you tomorrow!” she called to them. She enjoyed seeing her children off. She turned around, to go back into her classroom, and pick up her things, but she was met by another goddamn Christmas tree. 

She put her hand on her hip and frowned. I can’t seem to escape these bristly green pieces of shit! Seriously! Fuck Christmas! 

anonymous asked:

can you do making out with dan? like detailed, no sex or anything just heavy making out? thanks!

when you two would make out it would almost always begin as a really simple peck until dan would get carried away and pull you into his lap with his hands on your hips, leaning up to meet your lips. he’d love the soft noises you made into his kiss and how you reacted to him running his nails up and down your side. kissing him was happiness and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him forever. he’d suck on your bottom lip, leaving it swollen and pink before attacking down your neck and collarbones before kissing your lips once more and settling back down.

I just want to slow dance with girl, like at Prom.
During the slow song we come together, my hands on her hips with hers on my shoulders, pulling me closer to her as the soft music flows through the air.
Not caring about anyone staring at us, it’s our moment and nothing is going to take it away.
She’s wearing a beautiful dress or suit, she could have come in pajamas and looked amazing.
I want to feel close to her,
I just wanna slow dance with a girl

anonymous asked:

I head canon that Ruki gets very 'sensual' when drunk. So once at a party with Reiji, he was challenged to a drinking contest by some guy. So of course Ruki wins, but ends up incredibly drunk, and starts hugging, flirting and touching Reiji all over. Reiji is so used to Ruki being somewhat distance and not into P.D.A that he doesn't know what to do but to drive Ruki home (but of course Ruki seduces Reiji into banging when they get home)

which proves beyond a shadow of doubt that ruki is the wine aunt of the family

I lov flirtatious drunk ruki lmao…like reiji & ruki at a party and ruki’s making eyes at reiji the whole time. hands on his hips and stuff. damn

Intimate [Jonathan Byers x Reader]

Eyes closed, you latched your arms around his neck. You swayed backward in thought before leaning forward into his chest, your eyes still shut. His large hands rested themselves on your hips hesitantly, gentle and welcoming. His thumbs hooked into the loops of your high waisted jeans. You could feel him looking at you, probably nervous, but you couldn’t possibly face him yet. Your palm stung from beneath the bandage, and you couldn’t help but whimper when you rubbed it wrong against your other hand. The cut was still bleeding slightly.

“Are you alright?” He asked, pulling you closer to eliminate the gap between you two. You nodded against his chest. “Will you open your eyes?” His voice was smooth, deeper than usual, but still anxious. Slowly, you opened your eyes. You hummed a small response to let him know that you’d opened them. His hands traveled from your hips to your waist, where a small area of skin was exposed due to your tied up t-shirt. His finger tips brushed your bare skin and you couldn’t help but hum again, this time with content. You lifted your head from his chest and looked up to him with a small smile. Your gaze fell to where his hands were, and your smile grew. When you looked back up to him, his bottom lip was quivering. You ran your fingers through his hair, watching his mouth. He captured his lower lip between his teeth to stop it from shaking. Your right hand traced his jawline before resting against his cheek, and you adjusted your hold around his neck with your other arm. He looked down, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“Look at me, babe.” you whispered, your voice more hoarse than normal. His eyes met yours, and with a small smile you pressed your lips to his. Your aching palm was forgotten, as was the whole reason the cut was made. His hands gripped your waist more tightly, and you found yourself touching his hair again. He couldn’t help the low whimper when you slightly tugged. The throaty groan did nothing but make the intimacy grow.

“You’re perfect.” He muttered, the kiss breaking apart. Not once did he loosen his grip on you. Not once did you feel unsafe in his arms.

elenathehun  asked:

SUPER-DUPER challenge mode~ Rin, Shisui, "the color green".

I cheated a bit to put Shisui and Rin in the same time frame. Also I didn’t think you might’ve meant them as a romantic pair, but hey, maybe Rin is secretly an oni or something.

—-

“Sakura! Put that down!”

‘That’, from what Rin could see before Sakura’s hands gave up pretenses of being human and reverted to a cage of twigs, was a mass of black feathers. Rin put her hands on her hips and glared.

“But, Rin, it’s not a human,” said Sakura.

“It is still a living being.” Sakura pouted. “Remember your vows, Sakura, and the progress you will undo with this small act.” It was not, perhaps, a rationale encouraged by the temple, but truthfully Rin had not advanced enough to make a sincere appeal out of the sanctioned teachings, and Sakura even less to heed it.

Well, Sakura’s pout was human enough. The twigs transformed back into fingers one at a time. Rin quickly scooped the dazed crow from her hands before she changed her mind. “Good girl. Run along now, before Shizune notices you’re missing.”

As for Rin, she sneaked into the meditation chamber she had booked earlier for a different purpose. Paddings were expressly forbidden, so she had to lay the crow on her lap. It was only slightly than a normal crow. As best as she could tell it was still alive. It reminded her of simpler times, maybe even happier times, when she also found and nursed a crow just like this. She wondered how he must have been doing, and the others too…

The crow in her lap suddenly started flapping its wings and took off. It disappeared into the temple’s dark, high ceiling and came back again, circling around Rin.

“Hello, you must be my saviour,” it spoke, because of course it was one of the crow ayakashi. She nodded, and he seemed please. “Thank you, good lady. Unfortunately I must follow through the stereotype of my kind and be the bearer of bad news. Terribly sorry, it’s a bit urgent, you see. You were acquainted with my cousin, Obito, I believe.”

“Obito!” Rin said despite herself, heart leaping into her mouth. “Is he – ”

“Oh, he’s very healthy. Too healthy, if you ask me. If only he’d been just unhealthy enough to not steal the staff of the dragon of the east, and then turned the human capital into a jungle… Oh, and he’s given himself a human form.”

Rin stared at the crow’s flapping beak. She could understand his words well enough, but she could not ignore the sense he was joking. Crows, ayakashi in general could have such odd ideas of what constituted humour. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”

“He thought you were dead and your inugami killed you.” The crow tilted his head. “Obito’s a fool sometimes.”

“And Kakashi, what about Kakashi?”

“That’d be the inugami, yeah? Obito got him too. Poor bugger wouldn’t tell me where you were because he was just that loyal. But as you can see I’m a handsome and charming little crow.” His voice sobered. “And he didn’t have much choice. The way Obito’s been going, fighting against the human army and all that, he’s going to incur enough bad karma for a thousand reincarnations, and the dragon’s wrath.”

Rin stood and started to leave, but the crow saw right through her. “Kakashi told me you might not have been able to help.”

“The woman Obito is looking for is dead,” Rin said coolly. “The daughter of the previous shogun chose death rather than becoming the rallying point for his loyalists, thereby prolonging the civil war. I am a mere nun, sworn to never meddle in the affairs of the world. You understand nothing, little crow.”

“I guess not,” the crow agreed quickly, “and neither does Obito. We are crows after all! Well, it’s not really my problem, but Obito has taken it on himself to avenge you. All the things he does he does so in your name. And true peace, but my cousin flares his heart for all to see and it’s all pointing to you.”

The crow’s words rankled, but it did not so much bite as draw out the old daughter of a shogun, steeped since birth in honor and duty. And more than that, she still had fond memories of the crow she had found injured and nursed back to health. Obito had been a distraction from the boredom of her father’s court then.

“He’s a fool,” Rin hissed. “But what do you want from me? There’s nothing I can do to stop him.”

“Isn’t there? He’s throwing a tantrum because he thought he couldn’t see you anymore. He’d listen to you. Make him give up the staff, for a start. And undo the forest, as lovely as it is.”

Rin doubted that, but she also couldn’t see a better plan, yet. And as for her vows, well, she wasn’t going to be a boddhisattva anytime soon, anyway. “You are a very rude crow, to disturb a novice like that. And you haven’t even introduced yourself.”

“The name’s Shisui!” There was a hope in his voice. “So, then, you would – ”

“Well,” Rin said, wrinkling her nose, “I cannot very well save the people from a civil war only to leave them trapped in a forest, can I? You’re a sly creature, Shisui.”

If crows could wink, this one certainly did. It also bobbed its head self-satisfiedly, in mid-flight. “For what it’s worth I’m sorry for what Obito did in your name. And for intruding into your life. I promise we’d be out of it just as soon.”

Rin nodded curtly, accepting the apology. “But perhaps loyal and kind. Now, we shall first collect Sakura.”

“Sakura? That… that tree demon abomination?”

Rin bit back a smile. So the little crow knew fear. “Are you afraid of her, Shisui? Sakura last ate a little girl – and took up her form, I think – but she has decided to change. Find peace. You say that we’re going into a forest. A tree ayakashi would have been useful, don’t you think?”

And if crows could pale, this one was almost the shade of gypsum, but Shisui followed her even into the forest that was her old home, and faced his cousin with her. But that was another story.

Oooooo! I’ve never written a poly relationship before, but fingers crossed!

—–

“Home,” is only relative to the Junkers and their lover. Any place that they could rest was home for that brief time. However long they stayed, they managed to make anywhere feel like home.

“C'mon ya piece of scrap!” Junkrat hit his metal hand against the top of an old flat screen t.v.

“Did you really think that that dusty thing would really work?” You say amused, leaning against Roadhog, fiddling with your holo-pad on a decaying couch.

“Mmmhhmm.” He rubbed his chin, human hand on hip as he brainstormed of what else he could do to make the machine come out of static.

“Leave, him be. It keeps him quiet.” The hog mumbled. You snuggle closer to his massive warmth, exhaling loudly through your nose at his statement. Through the corner of your vision you can see Jamison pout and cross he’s arms.

“C'mon James, we’re only joking!” You half laugh at his childish behavior.

Roadhog shifts beside you, and you swear him mutter something along the lines of, “I’m not,” and you punch him playfully while he shrugs.

You turn your attention back to your holo-pad, tapping away, Mako watching over your shoulder. Static sounded the room otherwise filled with silence. After a short amount of time you can see a skinny, puppy-eyed Junker, climbing sluggishly into your lap, through the one-way transparent screen.

“You’re such a baby James!”

“Am not!” You and Mako snort at his blatant lie. You turn your screen fully transparent, allowing Junkrat to see what you were looking at. He shifts and settles on your lap glancing up at you through the holo-pad with expecting eyes. “Now, how’s ‘bout a story?”

“Not a baby, huh?” Roadhog reclines into his seat. You exhale loudly, through your nose again.

“Roadie, you love 'em too!”

“Stop spreading lies.”

“Oh,” you sit up straiter against him, “is that so?” You turn off your pad. “I guess no more stories, then.”

“……..I don’t mind them…….”

“I knew you would come around!” You turned on the tablet again, opening a new story to read to your boys. “'In the year 1878 I took my degree of doctor medicine of the University of London….’”

And so you sat, sandwiched between two dirty Junkers, on an old couch, with static sounding around the background, in an dilapidated house; and yet, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—–

The story being read was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s, “A Study In Scarlet,” in case you were wondering.

Happy Birthday Juliet! [NeganxJuliet]


As Negan swung Lucille down, ready to bash in Abraham’s skull, Juliet jumped to her feet.

“Don’t you dare you fucking asshole!” She shouted, stalking over and standing tall even though he towered over her.

“The hell you just say to me darling?” Negan asked, smiling down at her amused as shit.

She stepped between the two men, hands on her hips. She wasn’t going to back down when it came to her family. “I said don’t you dare.”

Negan had began to laugh, but what she said next shut him the hell up.

“What would your wife think of this shit show you are putting on?” A smirk was spreading across her face.

“What the fuck do you know about my wife you little-” He was losing his composer in front of his people. Not cool man. He paused and took a deep breath.

“Say one more word and I’ll have to fuck that dirty mouth darling.”

Rick’s people along with the Savories all stared at Negan in complete shock. Was he really picking this moment to get some action?

Juliet didn’t miss a beat as she narrowed her eyes, willing herself not to blush under her stubborn exterior.

“If you touch my friends. I’ll end you, Negan.” She added an over dramatic eye roll.

“Well hot damn!” He shouted with a hearty laugh, reaching out and grabbing her chin between his fingers.

With a sexy wink, he whispered, “Get your fucking ass in that RV.”

She did as she was told, keeping a hard look on her face. On the inside she was dying, already feeling the heat pool between her legs just from the sound of his voice.“

Once in the RV with the door firmly shut, he ordered her on her knees in front of him.

Negan licked his lips, holding Lucille out so she was just inches from Juliet’s face.

“Why don’t lick the tip?” His voice was raspy and his eyes were glazed over slightly. Totally into this game she was playing.

Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly stuck her tongue out and teasingly touched it to the tip of the bat.

A deep moaned sounded from him as he thrust his lower half forward just a little. “Damn darling…”

She took his praises as permission to continue.

With a smirk, she leaned forward and took what she could of Lucille into her mouth, mindful of not cutting herself on the barbwire.

“Oh fuck this.” He jerked the bat from Juliet’s mouth and sat it on the table carefully.

He peeked his head out the door, not wanting to give anyone but her a look at the bulge he now had.

“You sorry shits all get to live another day thanks to this damn hot girl in here.” He chucked a thumb behind him to indicate he was talking about Juliet.

“But don’t think I’ll be so merciful next time.” He gave them each a dark glare. “Now get the fuck out of my woods.”

He slammed the door shut and just seconds later a loud moan from Juliet could be heard.
———-

Two year later, Negan sat on Rick’s couch as the two shared a beer, smiling as they watched their girls play together.

Judith was trying to teach Negan and Juliet’s daughter how to stack some blocks, even though the other girl wasn’t quite old enough for it yet.

It was too fucking cute.

In the kitchen they could hear the loves of their lives, laughing together as they cooked.

“Dinner is almost ready.” Michonne called.
“Can you guys put the kids in their high chairs?” Juliet added.

After such a shitty start, the two groups had finally found peace with each other and ended their war.

All thanks to darling Juliet…