#WHAT'S KILLING ME THE MOST IS THAT HE FUCKING KNEW BETTER THE ENTIRE TIME BUT DIDNT FEEL LIKE TRYING TO GO AFTER SOMEONE HIS AGE OR MATURITY

[xoivy]

fuck this one motherfucker in particular who completely altered my brain chemistry at the early age of 15 and made me feel like i'm nothing without male approval/validation

[bamsara]

what are your most favorite tropes? :3c

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED:

Near death experiences

Emotional revelations due to said near death experiences

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Mutual Pining but they believe its unrequieted

"you're my worst enemy but you're so important to me"

Drunk chapter where at least One fist fight happens

Bridal carry after someone gets injured

Slow Burn...of course

"i got you this gift because it benefits me and im not telling you how" (the benefit is seeing the other person enjoy the gift)

Force Alliances or Temporary Truces

"I don't like killing but I'll do it for you"

"I prefer to kill my problems but I won't, for you."

Or: "This person has no idea how many people I've killed in order to protect or provide for them and I'm going to keep it that way."

Mean or Villian Character is actaully a really good Sibling/Parent/Child,ect and has someone they care about

Or better, Villian character adopts child AND is a good parent

Everyone knows the pairing likes each other except for the pairing

Temporary (or non-temp)Amnesia

"I learn your favorite things because I plan to use them against you one day" (proceeds to not do that) (proceeds to get them food or items that persons likes just because they like them)

Breaking and Entering. Literally.

Person A is in love, Person B says they're not but they're 10x times worse actaully

Slip-of-the-tongue/Accidental confessions. Doesn't have to be love confessions but just "whoops i was not supposed to say that"

Biting as a love language

One is feral and bloodthirsty but is put in the position of 'protecting an idiot' because the other is also feral and has no self-preservation. Both characters must be badass, just equally stupid

Kiss on the head/cheek while the other person is sleeping

Bloodstained kiss

Heat-of-battle confession about something

Protagonist refusing to become villian or repeat villian mistakes, not in a 'owo i cant do that its bad' and more like 'fuck you you dont get to see what you wanted to make of me'

Signifier of 'this is my friend/family/lover'. Could anything between a ring, a jacket over someone's shoudlers or scent marking, anything

"if im immortal, then you gotta be too or we both dyin"

Knight x Their Charge

Human x Non-Human

Sunshine x Grump

Character that looks sooooo cute. Oh he's a little fucked up actaully

"ahhaha he's such a freak haha. i need him carnally."

They are mortal enemies. They are also best friends.

Hostage / Rescued trope plus Hostage / Doesn't get to rescue because the hostage killed everyone already

Plot info that's missing that's vital to the story and it's revealed that One of the pairing or someone in the group knew the info the entire time

"I said mean things to you because I hate you, so why am I feeling guilty now"

There was only One Bed

Really competent and scary character is really GOOD at a harmless and charming small hobby completely uncharacteristic to their public persona

Nightmares. And then sleeping in the same bed because of nightmares

Cultural differences / Language Barrier

Character gets so surprised flustered they trip over something or break something and it topples and it starts a chain reaction like a cartoon

There are more but these are some of which I can remember off the top of my head. I've written many of these myself in several of my stories and will continue to do so until the end of time, esp my faves

[tootiecakes234]

Aged up Characters

MDNI: smutty

Katsuki had been gone for a month on an assignment and not only had he been away from you all that time, but it’d also been one of the most exhausting assignments he’d been on. Which is why he had EVERY intention of getting home and passing out in your shared bed for the next 3-4 business days.

He had a plan. Get home, take a shower and get directly into bed. Fuck food, fuck putting his things away.

But that entire plan went up in smoke when he got home.

He walks in with all his stuff and just drops everything close to the entrance. He trudges his way through the house and into your bedroom, when he hears the shower cut off.

He knew you were home because your car was in the driveway, but expected you to greet in the front room but he now sees you were otherwise occupied. What he didn’t expect was for you to come scampering out of the damn bathroom completely naked and dripping wet.

You of course screamed bloody murder because you hadn’t heard him come in.

“Katsuki what the hell?!! You scared the shit out of me! I could’ve killed you.”

He snorts, “with what? Your tits? Death by smothering??”

“Maybe dammit. My hearts almost came out of my throat.”

“So this is what you do when I’m gone huh?” He asks as he starts walking over to you. “Walk around naked and wet and what?? Do you air dry?” At this point his voice had dropped an octave or two and you could feel his eyes roaming over your body.

“No i d-don’t air dry…. Well that wasn’t my intention this time. I just left my towel out here.”

“Mmmm…” and he snakes his arms around your waist pulling you to him focusing his eyes on yours. “ I get home after a month and you dont even seem excited to see me.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t tried to give me a heart attack…ouch asshole. Why the hell did you pinch my ass?”

“Be nice to me. I’m tired and jetlagged…. And now, because of you I’m hard” he of course takes this moment the press his groin up against you so you can feel how hard he actually is.

Your hands are resting on his biceps before the slide up and your hands sift into his hair.

“Well let me just dry off and I’ll help you with that” and you have the nerve to try and pull away from him.

“Why would you go dry off when I like you just like this hmm? Wet. And Naked.” And then he presses his firm lips against yours before sliding his hands down to cup both of your ass cheeks.

“Tell me you missed me brat. I’ve been here 5minutes and you haven’t said it.” He says with his lips pressed up against you ear and then he moves down and start placing sloppy kisses on your neck.

“Of, fuck, of course I missed you Katsuki. I sent you voice messages e-everyday telling you how much I missed you.” You whine.

“I don’t believe you.” And you jump before letting out a moan when this asshole slaps the hell out of one of your asscheeks. Then he slides his hand down and in between your puffy pussy lips.

When he pulls back to look at you there is a smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you did miss me.”

“I told you.” You say as a pout forms on your lips.

“I can’t be sure though. I need you to prove it.”

“Prove it how Kat? I’m wet for you already. Is that not enough??”

Then his smirk turns into the most devilish smile you’ve ever see. “ i told you im exhausted from fighting villains, and you know making the world a safer place.”

“Get to the point you terrible man”

He chuckles at that. “Well that means I need you to be a big girl and do all the work this time. Need you to get my cock all wet with that filthy mouth of yours and then need you to ride me til I fill up my pretty little cunt ok?? Can you do that for me?”

All you can do is nod your head and drop to your knees.

This definitely not how he pictured his arrival home. It was so much better.

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

*id just like to say that this fic started with a whole different idea in mind and evolved into this and i never even got around to the original because it was getting too long😭

*also this isn’t proofread in the slightest so sorry🤭

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @kxtsxkii @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @fluffismystaplefood @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989 @zanarkandskylines

[killakalx]

mind blown by the jealousy fic! i just love ur characterization of dick.

also now you've got me thinking abt him and sloppy seconds. like imagine you've gone to someone else and let them fuck you, but they just couldn't get you off, and you're just so frustrated. then you show up at his door in wrinkled clothes, still dripping wet, hair messed up and lips bitten red and his brain just whites out. maybe he's still not jealous, not exactly, but he is so pleased with himself. cause now it's not just "she knows where home is" but "she knows nobody else will ever do it better, no matter how hard they try." then he's teasing about how wet you are, how bad you wanna come, how easy you are for him, and he gets you off with just his fingers first just to prove he can. he has you damn near begging before he even fucks you for real, and even then he does it torturously slow, taking his time and making you whine for it while he touches you all over. before he lets you come he asks "who did it better, me or him?"

ur posts put some sort of devil in me istg <3 🫐

“i just love ur characterization of dick” ☹️❤️ im kissing u rn berry. this got longer than it was supposed to but that’s ok bc i’m in love with our best friend dick grayson

i think right here is where dick starts feeling bad. not in a sappy way, but not in a condescending way either. he opens the door and he just ogles at how sorry you look, contemplating how he’d go about it, but he just gives you that charming smile and waits for your green light.

say you’re more embarrassed than anything else. tried to go home and get yourself off, making yourself look worse in all the most miserable ways. all you give him is that look. the lowkey “if you tell anyone about this i’ll kill you” look. in that case he’s teasing you the entire time, shit talking whoever it was that left you dry while carelessly dipping his fingers into your mouth and getting you soaked with just his hand. that’s when he’s more than willing to keep you embarrassed and begging for him.

“stop being a dick,” you’d scold him with the same joke he’s heard a million times, trying to hold his wrist in place and keep him inside of you. then he just stops moving his fingers and the way you ache around them has his ego practically leaking out of his cock.

“did you fake it or what?” he talks over you when you start insulting him out of impatience. he likes continuing conversation as if it’s one of those old talks you two would have. yk…. without him being knuckles deep inside you.

just in case you didn’t hear him right, you’re giving him that confused look and still rolling your hips for some sort of relief “hn… what?”

“you had to act like you came,” dick explains despite being sure you knew what he meant, “or did he just assume you did after he gave you a sorry excuse of a fuck?”

“mind your business.”

“i’ve got you leaking around my fingers like a desperate slut and this isn’t my business?” he laughs at the gall you have but he is very serious bae. just before the banter continues he reaches deeper inside you, curling up and making you lose your words. “you’d tell me if you wanna cum so bad, babe.” now he’s got you spilling all the deets and his pace speeds up after every sentence, telling you to take your time and spit it out, huh?

however!! imagine you show up so frustrated there are tears in your eyes. you’re sick of everything. stress and stress and more stressed, piled on top of sexual frustration??? dick’s making you cum until the light in your brain goes out. he’s there for you, always. whether it’s pulling you in for a long hug or sitting you in his lap with your clothes stripped. most of the time it’s both.

“i know, i know,” he’s consoling you while kissing sucking at your pretty tits, thumb massaging your clit as your head rests on his shoulder. “let me fix this, mkay? stop cryin’.” on nights like these??? the way he fucks you makes you forget he’s not your husband of five years and counting. and after a while neither of you are too sure how to feel about that.

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[star-girl69]

American Teenager

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you get caught in the crossfire of clarisse’s anger, and have to convince clarisse you love every part of her.

a/n: i took over a year off, cut you bitches some slack…… TELL A FRIEND TO TELL A FRIEND… SHE’S BAAAAAACKKKK!!!!!!!!!

for those who do not know, i changed my theme. yes it is me. do you like it 😀

American Teenager - Ethel Cain

warnings: NOT BETA READ!!!, ending sucks yet again but i cant be bothered, y/n gets PUNCHED!!!!!!, creepy men, violence, very sad clarisse, IT IS VERY HARD FOR HER TO TALK ABOUT HER FEELINGS BUT SHE TRIES, swearing, usual demigod stuff, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse is angry.

She has been angry all of her life, you know that. She was born with a fire in her veins that came straight from her godly father, potent and rolling around inside of her like a storm, a rabid dog biting at a cage, and nurtured over the years by a stern mother.

Clarisse was a recipe for destruction, for pain, for suffering. That’s what most people thought she was. They all thought she was her father’s daughter- full of fire, and she would never be anything else except the mean bully all the campers had grown to somewhat resent.

But she was more than that. She was your girl, she was everything you wanted and had prayed for years for. You knew she was angry, you knew she carried regret in her heart, you knew she ate up anything nice inside of her long ago.

But you didn’t care.

You gave her some of your own softness, your own nicety, drew it out of her with soft touches and sweet words, until she learned to love you and believed that she was the girl you always saw hidden inside.

Clarisse is angry.

You know that, you know the harsh girl you fell in love with, and you know the sweet girl she really is.

So, it’s no surprise to you that Clarisse has spent the entire afternoon glued to your side, glaring at anyone who walks by- but particularly her brother, Caden.

Caden has some sort of inferiority complex coupled with extreme sexism. He couldn’t stand the fact Clarisse was better than him, that she was the camp counselor instead of him. She had received her beloved spear from their father, he had no gifts to show.

Somewhere in his fucked up head he realized he couldn’t force his father to notice him, couldn’t uproot Clarisse from her counselor position, and though the next best thing was to go after you.

It started with glances that lasted too long, then subtle touches during camp activities, then actively flirting with you when Clarisse wasn’t around.

The only reason Caden had been allowed to this for this long was because you didn’t want to tell Clarisse and be responsible for what could very possibly be Caden’s death. You felt dirty, having his hands on you, barely-hidden sexual remarks whispered in your ear, his eyes on you- practically undressing you.

Clarisse would kill him if she knows what he’s done, how it makes you feel. And you really don’t want blood on your hands, so you avoid him as much as possible and attach yourself to Clarisse.

It’s a rare afternoon that you both have free, and it’s snatched with greedy hands and stretched out long like molasses, the two of you move slow and leisurely, try to sink into this time together.

You promised your sister you would help with the arts and crafts class she runs, spewing something about how you’re the best at making friendships bracelets- but really, her usual partner is on a quest and taking care of the rowdy 12 year olds is not an individual task.

So, here you are, sitting at a picnic table and making sample bracelets, feeling the sun on your face and Clarisse’s arms around you. She sits sideways, her front pressed against your side, straddling the bench. She watches the way the sun hits your face, the way your fingers move swiftly as you continue to bead and tie together.

There’s been this pit in your stomach since Caden started his advances- like a new organ had formed inside of you, pure black instead of a usual pink flesh. A physical form of all your guilt and disgust, filled with the dirt like you felt like.

It’s still there, even through the gaps of hot sunlight, the cooling shade of the tree above, but it’s easier to ignore when Clarisse is there. It’s easier to ignore, but it’s still there.

“I don’t understand how you’re so good at those,” Clarisse mumbles. She kisses your shoulder and you dig your feet into the dirt, smiling to yourself.

“I don’t either,” you smile. “What can I say? I’m the queen of friendship bracelets.”

“Ha,” she says, somewhat sarcastically, but you can hear the fond, loving smile in her voice. “How much longer?” she asks.

“Two more. Maybe 10 more minutes?”

“Okay,” she hums, drawing out the word. “Wanna get somethin’ to eat after this?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking away from the bracelets for just a second- to admire her like she gets to admire you.

“Nah, nah, you better finish those bracelets so I can have all your attention on me again.” She presses her face against yours, pushing you to face forward again and focus.

She departs with a kiss to corner of your lips, and you wonder if you really need all six example bracelets, but you know your sister would kill you if you didn’t show up tomorrow with six. You sigh and turn back to your bracelets, listening to the sweet sound of Clarisse laughing.

“Okay,” she says, leaning closer to you after a minute. “I’ll be back in a few, okay? I’m just gonna go change into shorts.”

“Okay,” you smile, and she squeezes your waist as she stands up. The feeling inside of you sinks in even more, the blackness in your stomach, but you focus on the feeling of the sun and her promise that she’ll come back soon.

“First time I’ve seen you alone in weeks.”

Your stomach sinks.

You’re a demigod and you deal with monsters and the whims of gods daily- but there’s something about humans, about demigods that makes you especially scared.

A step below a God, filled with resentment and blessed with superhuman abilities.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt fear like this.

You glance up at him, quickly gathering all your bracelet supplies, shoving it into the pockets of your jeans without much care.

You force a smile, pretend like nothing’s wrong.

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m just leaving. Nice seeing you, Caden!”

“Why you leavin’ so quick, baby?”

“Meeting Clarisse,” you smile through gritted teeth.

“Well, I just saw my sister walk away so… are you lying to me, Y/N?” he laughs slightly, almost as if the idea of you not being completely observing of his will is unheard of, laughable.

“Yeah, I was just finishing up.” You shove a pile of beads into your pocket, moving for the next one-

His hand covers yours.

“You don’t look done. Sit down, huh?”

You glance around the courtyard, not even bothering to hide your fear like you were taught- at the sight of him, his tall stature, the fact he could easily overpower you- you forget everything you ever learned and turn into a puddle of fear. You’re fucking terrified, and it would be humiliating if it wasn’t just the most basic human tendencies preserving in you.

You can’t be embarrassed about biology, about what your human body was designed to do. At the end of the day, your blood is red- not gold.

“No, no, I really gotta go.” You rip your hand away, mourning the loss of a few beads that didn’t quite escape with you. Instead of dwelling on that, you quickly turn around and head towards the main pavilion, where there are more campers- maybe you can find Matty or Carrie, another one of Clarisse’s siblings who would just get him off your back.

But, he follows. Of course he follows. He’s a man who’s never been told no, and he won’t be refused by you.

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice still teasing.

You clench your fists and walk faster, finally risking a glance over your shoulder- you slam into a familiar warm body you have spent countless nights with, now wearing a pair of jean shorts.

One hand swings around your waist, the other sits over her hip- where her favorite dagger is hidden.

“Y/N?” she asks, not taking her eyes off of Caden, but her voice is soft and full of concern.

“Nothing, Clar. It’s fine, let’s just go, yeah?”

She looks at you for just a second, and you haven’t had time to school your features back into a flat facade, so there’s still fear all over your face.

“What the fuck did you do, Caden?”

“Just tryin’ to spend time with Y/N. That a crime?”

He avoids calling you her girlfriend, even though that’s how most of the Ares cabin has come to know you.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly incredulously. “You hit your head too hard? She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend. I don’t know what you did, but don’t do it again.”

It’s like a sixth sense, the way you feel his eyes rake down your body, lingering on your ass. The blackness inside of you squeezes, and you feel the sudden urge to throw up, squeezing your eyes shut-

Clarisse tugs you behind her.

“Don’t fucking look at her, Caden.”

Her voice is level in barely-masked rage, and it honestly would scare you a little bit- if it wasn’t for the way her hand caressed your hip so softly.

“I’m not hurtin’ anyone. She probably likes it, huh?”

You wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s flirting with you, or just trying to piss Clarisse off.

Her jaw clenches.

“Four weeks laundry duty.”

His smile drops.

“Don’t fucking test me, Caden.”

You’re silently surprised at her strength, so you quickly grab her hand and squeeze, trying to urge her forward. Your stomach feels lighter, hoping that maybe- finally, finally he’ll leave you alone-

“Really, Clarisse?” The edge of desperation in his tone is pathetic. “You’re gonna choose her over your own half-brother. We both know who’d she choose between the two of us though, huh? The stronger one. The better one. She’d choose the son.”

She drops your hand and spins around.

“Clarisse,” you warn. “Clarisse.”

But she seems to be lost in her own world, where everything narrows down to him and the cocky look on his face, memory of his words, and you know any trace of your sweet girl is gone and it’s just the anger.

You quickly push yourself in between them, putting your hands out to Clarisse- you feel sort of stupid, but you’re desperate for her to just turn around, to take you with her, for the two of you to do like she said and get something to eat. You want to eat by the beach with her, you want to feel her in the sun, you wanna let yourself believe that four weeks of laundry duty will deter him.

“Y/N,” she says, warning you, and you know she won’t stop.

“Clarisse, I’m telling you, turn around. He’s not worth it.”

You can hear his smile.

“You won’t be saying that when I finally get my hands on you, baby.”

Fuck.

“Clarisse!” you shout, knowing its coming- she aims around you, pushing you out of the way as she sets a deadly punch on path with his face.

But it doesn’t hit him. It doesn’t hit him, and he gasps in shock before quickly running away, not wanting to deal with the consequences of his actions.

And you can’t blame him, because with your knees on the ground and the sting of Clarisse’s fist on your cheek- you should have just let her fucking kill him.

—-

Clarisse hasn’t looked at you in two weeks.

After you fell to the ground, completely disoriented by her punch, you remember the sound of her screaming and Caden laughing as he ran away. You remember her hands shaking as she helped you up, touching you as little as possible, staring at her now red knuckles.

Although you really didn’t have to, she led you to the healers, and one of the Apollo kids looked at your swelling eye, gave you something for the pain, and said you could leave.

And then, she made sure you got home safe to your cabin and hasn’t looked at you again.

In hindsight, knowing that that was the end of the relationship you used to have, it feels like a bad goodbye for something so good. You can’t even call it a goodbye, because it wasn’t good at all. There should have been something. Something more.

You remember the way Clarisse couldn’t stop staring at her bruised knuckles, you remember the way she couldn’t look you in your eyes, couldn’t touch you- wouldn’t allow herself to touch you.

That night, the relationship you had with Clarisse ended. But, you were still as in love with her as ever, you didn’t blame her for simply trying to protect you- you were the person who stepped in front of her. One second you weren’t there, the next you were. She didn’t have time to pull her punch, she didn’t have time to aim somewhere else- you don’t blame her.

You remember her saying she was sorry as she helped you to the healers. Sorry, over and over again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. You almost asked her to stop saying it, because the word was starting to sound weird. You almost told her it was unnecessary-because it was- but you didn’t get the chance. She made sure you got home safe to your cabin. She said she was sorry again, and then two weeks of torture commenced.

And you’re fucking sick of it. Sick of her acting like a coward, running away instead of owning up to the consequences of her actions- you aren’t mad at her for punching you. You never were.

You’re mad at her for leaving you in the days after, the nights where you couldn’t sleep on your favorite side because of the bruise. The nights where you would yawn and tears would well in your eyes, and it burned as it rolled down the sensitive skin. The nights where you would forget, and you would expect her to crawl into your bed like usual- but you would fall asleep alone and wake up alone.

You’re mad at her for abandoning you, for refusing to talk to you, to figure it out. Because while what you had before is gone, you can still have something new.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” your friend Tyla asks.

“Yeah,” Jackie, your other friend, continues. “Like, she did literally punch you in the fucking face- are we sure that’s not some sort of subconscious thing?”

She shrinks at the harsh glares you and Tyla give her.

“Okay. That was mean,” she says, softly. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking towards the training fields, where you know the entire Ares cabin is practicing hand-to-hand skills.

“I told you,” you huff. “She was trying to protect me from Caden. She loves me, she’s just angry. Angry at herself, but she shouldn’t be.”

“What even happened to Caden?” Tyla asks, noses scrunching at the fact she has to even say his name. “I mean, I saw him walking around with that broken face but-”

“Clarisse!”

You look up to the top of the small hill, the plateau where the sparring rings are marked into the grass by eco-friendly spray paint.

She’s holding one of her siblings down, her knee on his back, her hands holding his arms behind his back.

“Stop! I tap out, I tap out, Clarisse!” The boy screams. She smiles softly before letting him go and standing up.

He lays face down on the ground for a minute, breathing heavily before he finally picks himself up- staring at Clarisse’s offered hand. After a moment, he takes it and lets her tug him up. He nods at her and walks away to his friends, moaning about his arms and his back.

Clarisse shakes out her hands and looks around, but she knows no one wants to spar with her after that, even thought even from here you can see the fire in her veins. The need for a fight, for something to distract her. The need for movement, hard and fast. The need for anger to be the only thing she can feel.

“Me next?”

“Y/N,” Tyla hisses, and Jackie reaches out to grab you but you merely shake her off.

Clarisse’s eyes lock with yours.

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion in her eyes. Her body tenses up, she seems frozen in place like a deer in headlights. She’s scared.

“Clar,” you smile, meeting her in the circle.

She tears her eyes away from you, choosing instead to stare at the grass.

“I’m not fighting you. Go.”

“I’m not asking you to fight me,” you smile. “I’m asking you to spar with me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sparring with you.”

It’s so tense, no matter how much you try to make it like before, no matter how much you smile and try to look in her eyes.

“Can I talk with you, then?”

You shuffle closer, and she doesn’t move.

“Y/N,” she sighs. She looks up at you, but you can tell she’s staring right past you, towards the tree line. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” you snort. “Face your feelings? Let me help you?”

Her face is level, almost bored. She turns her face into a facade, a mask of nothingness. She won’t let you in, not now, and it makes you angry.

You would take anything from her right now.

You want her to hate you. You want her to love you. You want everything and anything.

You would take another punch, as long as you got to feel her skin on yours for a split second.

You dig your foot into the ground and glare at her.

“Clarisse. I’m serious, I want to talk to you.”

Her eyes meet yours for a split second, before she’s moving.

“Too bad. Forget me,” she says over her shoulder.

She fucks up and she runs away.

“Clarisse!” you shout, following her out of the training field, out of view from the eyes that were trying and failing not to look at the two of you. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t just pretend like the last year we’ve been together didn’t happen.”

“It’s better that way,” she sighs, like she’s doing you some big favor by staying away from you, when all she’s doing is hurting you.

“It’s not!” you shout, finally surging forward and grabbing her wrist-

She whips around and tugs her wrist out of your grip.

You don’t think she’s ever once refused your touch.

It burns. It burns in your heart so badly, burns worse than any regret you could ever feel.

“Don’t,” she says, like she’s warning you. “I’m- I’m trying to protect you, okay? Just- stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn.”

You take a dejected step back, even though all you want to do is run into her arms.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, folding her hands behind her back. Her eyes finally land on the faded bruise. “Why don’t you hate me?”

The heartbreak in her voice hurts more than the punch, than the nights without her.

“Because I love you, Clar. I don’t care about what happened, it was an accident- you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

“I hurt you.”

“The only thing that hurts is you being away from me.”

“Nah,” she says, taking a step back. She shakes her head, staring at your eye before finally turning away. “I’m only anger, Y/N. I’ll only hurt you. And I can’t take hurting you again.”

The feeling of staring at her back, the sound of her footsteps crunching in the leaves, hurts so bad it creates another new organ in your body.

This time, it’s like a tumor growing from your heart, encasing it so every beat is a struggle, every breath is ragged. This new organ carries your heartbreak, and it grows bigger by the second.

—-

It’s starting to feel like Clarisse is never going to even look at you again.

Even when you look straight at her from across the pavilion, she doesn’t look back. You stare at her back all day. The memory of her walking away from you replays in your mind every time you close your eyes.

You wonder, when it’s just you in your lonely bed, if Clarisse isn’t angry but rather scared. She’s angry at herself for hurting you, yes, but she’s terrified she’ll do it again. And you know Clarisse rarely feels fear, and you want nothing more but to help her navigate these unknown feelings- but she won’t let you in.

You don’t know how to let her help you, but you give her time. You stare at her when you hope she isn’t looking, you wrap your arms around yourself and pretend it’s her, you dream of her lips and the way she holds you, the way she loves you.

Clarisse took you to the docks for one of your dates. The fourth? The fifth? Somewhere around there, but it was the first time you kissed. Both of you had realized that you liked each other but agreed to take it slow, but you’d never forget the way she looked at you after you put the flower she brought you into your hair. The way she looked at you when you let your feet hang over the edge, kicking the water. The way your thigh pressed against hers, ankles hooked together.

You’ll never forget the way you looked up at her after dipping your fingers into the cool water, the control and self restraint finally leaving her eyes, her body, as her face sunk into a wide smile and she slammed her lips into yours.

The dock is sacred to the two of you, so when you’re missing her, especially during this sunset, this is where you go.

And it’s perfect. It’s so perfect you can almost convince yourself she’s here with you.

Except, if she was here with you, there wouldn’t be this tumor on your heart.

At the sound of his voice, the other organ your emotions have formed twists.

“This wasn’t my plan, y’know.”

“Go away, Caden,” you moan. Is it a crime to want to wallow in your own self pity? It is a crime to want the black organs inside of you to swallow you whole?

“I just wanted to knock Clarisse down a few pegs, and I certainly did that. Paid the price, too, you seen my fuckin’ face?”

It looks as horrible as it always does, you think, but you bite your tongue.

“I wanna be alone, Caden. Please.” You bite the word out like you’re a hyena choking on a laugh.

“But, c’mon.”

He steps closer to you, until you can feel him looming over you, tips of his sneakers pressing into your ass, he’s so close to you. You kick the water, annoyed, but he either doesn’t get the hint or ignores it.

“I’m not that bad, am I? Do me a favor, baby, let me cart you around for a few days and make her miserable.”

You’re about to just get up and leave all together when the sound of someone stepping onto the dock surprises you.

“Get away from her.”

But there’s something unspoken in the air. You’re just “her” now- not “my girlfriend” not “her’s.”

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering me, Clarisse?”

You turn around. She smiles sarcastically.

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering Y/N?”

“I’m not botherin’ her though, huh?”

He reaches down to grab at a piece of your hair, running it in between his fingers.

You flinch, but you’re more focused on the way Clarisse’s fists clench, her jaw ticks.

“Caden,” you sigh, batting his hand away.

“Seems like a pretty clear no to me, huh?”

Caden sighs and straightens, letting your hair fall from his fingers.

“What are you going to do about it, Clarisse? You gonna try and punch me- again? Try to hit the right person this time, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself, Caden.” She finally, finally, looks at you. You feel blessed and divine, like she’s a goddess who’s taken the time to merely look at you. “C’mon, Y/N.”

You scramble up to follow her beckoning hand at the same time Caden shifts on his feet.

He knocks into you, and you’re on the edge of the dock, and you scream as you fall in.

The water wasn’t that deep, but it was cold and embarrassing, and you fell at an awkward angle.

You surface, paddling to keep yourself afloat, coughing water out of your mouth and glaring up at him.

“Shit,” he swears, quickly running down the dock before you can shout some curse on his entire bloodline.

“Y/N?!” Clarisse shouts, panic on her face falling immediately at the sight of you afloat. She breathes out, fixing her hair that got all moved around in her frantic sprint down the dock. “You good?”

“Does it look like I’m good?” you deadpan.

She smiles.

“C’mon, come around to the ladder.”

She smiles as she helps you up, wrapping an arm around you even though you’re soaking wet, and you’re so mesmerized at the sight of her smiling, the feeling of her smiling at you that you can’t even comprehend it.

She has her arm wrapped around you.

She’s touching you.

Gods, did you miss this.

“Cold?” she asks, your hips pressed together as you walk down the dock.

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling how warm she is against you. “I’ll be okay, though.”

“How long has he been… doing that?”

Your eyes meet hers.

“Jackie and Tyla told me- yelled at me, really- after they cornered me the other day. They said you were really fucked up about everything, and I should talk to you and I- I don’t know. I thought staying away was for the best.”

You cringe at the memory from a few nights ago, when you finally broke down and cried like a baby in front of your friends because of how much you missed her.

“And I saw you at the dock, and then fuckin’ Caden got over here before I could,” she laughs, dryly. “Whatever. I’ll walk you back-”

“Will you talk to me, Clar?”

You both stop, beachy sand sticks to your wet shoes, and Clarisse nervously looks away before you prod.

“I’m not mad at you. And I know you’re mad at yourself, and scared-”

She scoffs, but it’s halfhearted.

“But I love you, Clarisse. I love you, and I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, and love me.”

In the sunlight, you can still see the remnants of the bruise. Softly, she reaches out and traces her pointer finger around your eye.

Her touch is so soft, the pad of her finger so rough- that sweet juxtaposition with her has always made your mind fuzzy. She makes all the tension in your body melt away. She makes everything better.

She swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. “I know I’ve said it so much, but I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear on my father-”

Her voice chokes up, and you can tell she hates the fact she’s crying, so you draw her into your neck and let her hide away there. Running your hands through her hair, telling her it’s okay each time she apologizes.

“I know who you are,” you say when the tears have stopped, and you’re just relishing being in each other’s arms again. “I know who I fell in love with, and I know who you are. You’re angry and you’re sweet, you’re mean and you’re kind, and I love all of it. Don’t doubt that, please.”

She breathes out before leaving the comfort of your neck, putting her shaky hands on your face.

“I love all of you,” you repeat.

She smiles softly.

“I love all of you.”

She kisses your eye softly, literally almost like a butterfly landing on your eyelid, unable to not whisper one more apology against your skin.

You roll your eyes, smiling to match her.

“And don’t think I’d leave you over one mistake, seriously, La Rue. You insult me.”

She rolls her eyes too, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Oh, forgive me,” she teases.

“You’re already forgiven,” you smile, eyes traveling down to the lips you’ve been dreaming about. “But kiss me to make sure.”

—-

“-and he would just look at me all the time. That was the creepiest part, I think. Like, okay, he would feel up on me sometimes, but whatever. I could avoid him. At meals I would just be minding my business and he would be staring at me. More just annoying, you know? And, yeah. That made me feel horrible, like literally sick. I just felt so dirty, so fucked up- Clar?”

You watch as she stares up at the ceiling, cracking her knuckles.

“Clarisse,” you scold.

You shift from your stomach to your side, head propped up so you can properly look at her. Your bed is full and warm now that she’s here.

“Oh, no, keep goin’, baby.”

“Do not kill him. Do not hurt him. I told you, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Nah, I know, sweetheart. I’m just thinking about it, don’t take that away from me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but a smile crosses its way onto your face. She smiles back, and it just feels so surreal, so different- but exactly like it’s supposed to be. You know Clarisse is angry, but you know she’s sweet too. Clarisse knows you love all of her.

She draws you to lay on her chest, hand in your hair, the other slipping under your shirt to scratch your back.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me,” she whispers. “That’s the worst thing. You were dealing with all this alone- and I had no fucking idea.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause being with you made it better, of course you didn’t notice.”

She kisses your forehead. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

You smile and kiss her chest.

“I’m only not killing him ‘cause you asked, I hope you know that. If it was up to me, he’d be dead.”

“Oh, baby, I know lots of other ways we can channel that emotion.”

You glance up at her and she searches your eyes before promptly throwing you to the side and climbing on top of you.

Yeah, Clarisse is angry. But you love her angry.

—-

clarisse staring at her hands like they’re covered in blood: oh gods… oh gods what have i done. what have i done (again that picture of ivan the terrible holding his d3ad son)

y/n: ouch! ok anyways- girl you did not kill me calm down.

—-

caden trying not to die after clarisse inconveniences him for the sixth time today… hides his favorite sword, permanently sticks him on laundry duty, puts literal “kick me” signs on his back, puts holes in his favorite clothes…

—-

y/n is that one song that goes “FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZZYYYYY”

…and she’s so real for that.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1 @maxlynn17

@thewritingbarbie

—-

from this ask

[eoieopda]

the one with mingyu and the twin bed

summary: you brought your boyfriend to your parents’ house for christmas dinner. he can’t get a grip because you can’t keep yours to yourself. pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader type: drabble (smut) | rating: 18+ | wc: 3.5k au: est. relationship, home for the holidays cw: teasing, teasing, teasing; unprotected sex; mingyu is a pouty lil simp; multiple orgasms; reader rides it like she stole it and has to keep him quiet in the process :’) a/n: nobody asked, i just have mingyu brain rot 🥲 🚨 MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS WHO INTERACT WITH MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED. MY WORK IS NOT FOR YOU.

You might kill him. And really, if that’s not your goal, it’s still the most likely result. This road you’ve chosen starts with a squeeze of his knee under the table, travels up his thigh and — well, Mingyu can imagine how it ends, but not when or where. That’s the problem.

Well, that’s the primary problem. 

The worst part about it all is that you look so unbothered by it all. You’re laughing through conversation with your parents, who sit on the opposite side of the table, like Mingyu isn’t on the brink of passing the fuck out beside you. Like his slacks aren’t squeezing the life out of him in the same torturous way your hand is. 

You’re moving so slowly that the table cloth doesn’t even flutter with your secret ministrations.

He knew you were a devil, but what fresh hell is this?

“— feeling okay?”

Mingyu has to blink himself back into reality to realize he’d been spoken to. Your father, who Mingyu had thankfully met before tonight — and made a positive, sustainable first impression on — looks concerned. His eyebrows furrow the same way yours do when you’re worried.

“Sorry,” Mingyu starts by clearing his throat. He flashes a smile that makes your mother blush, not unlike the way you usually do. “I was daydreaming about that galbi jjim from earlier. Don’t know if I’ll ever eat better.”

That’s a lie, he thinks immediately. Dessert is one seat over, fingertips whispering over his inseam, and Mingyu’s mouth is already watering at the thought. But he’s stuck. You’re untouchable as long as the pair of you are at this table, and you’re untouchable upstairs for more reasons than one. 

Your mother is flustered — so is Mingyu, but for an entirely different reason — and she glances up at your father. His smile is a flat line, but it reads like approval. She elbows him gently.

“See, yeobo?” She quips, “I told you he was charming.” 

Then, she turns to look at you with a firm nod. “You picked well.”

“To be clear, Mingyu picked me,” You laugh, waving your free hand dismissively.  “With the amount of girls queuing up for his attention, he had options — a lot of them. I just lucked out.”

At this, he short-circuits, so much so that he nearly sprays the wine he’s sipping all over the table and your unsuspecting parents. 

“Oh, no, no. Not even close,” He sputters, earning a surprised giggle from your mother. Faked offense pulls the corners of his mouth down, puckers his lips into an pout around his words. “I had to beg for your phone number, if I recall —”

“Did you really?” Your mother gasps. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, as if she’s watching one of the daytime dramas she’s always talking about.

Your father looks smug as he reaches his arm out over the table, fingers closed over his palm. The hand you aren’t using to commit unspeakable crimes lifts to meet his fist over the acorn jelly, knuckles tapping lightly. 

Your father smirks, “That’s my girl.”

You look at Mingyu fully now, not from the corner of your eye the way you had been. It’s downright spooky how your face can look that innocent at a time like this. That is, until you bite down on your plush lower lip.

Fuck.

Is he about to faint? He really might faint.

“Okay, fine. You’re right,” You demur with a shrug.

That sweet smile of yours is unbelievably misleading, but goddamn, does it look good on you.

“I didn’t make it very easy for you, did I?” 

He tries not to clench his jaw when you flatten your palm and squeeze the highest, innermost part of his thigh. He fails miserably. After all, you’re running out of real estate; and Mingyu’s running out of resolve. 

This is it for me, he thinks. Remember me as I was: a fucking simp.

Thankfully, both of your parents stand up to carry dishes off to be washed. They cross the threshold into the kitchen and miss the way Mingyu’s head slumps back against his chair. So desperate and defeated, he ignores the way his skull aches after colliding with the oak backrest.

He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the sweet release of death.

When their footfalls are no longer audible, Mingyu assumes they’re out of sight. You shift, but he doesn’t crack his eyes open until he feels the heat of your breath on the shell of his ear. His gaze locks on the ceiling when you whisper, “Can you blame me? It’s so cute when you beg.”

If his dick strains any harder against his pants, the zipper may break.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Mingyu gulps. He shakes his head, voice wavering. “Baby, I’m gonna drop dead in your childhood home — on Christmas, no less — and it’s gonna be all your fault.”

The tip of your nose nudges the side of his face as you place a kiss on his earlobe. The white knuckle grip he holds on the edge of the table is the only thing keeping him together, and you know it. Still, the feather-light touch of your fingertips finds what it’s after. They trace the outline of his bulge through his slacks, and before he can stop himself, Mingyu audibly sighs.

He’d tell you to stop if he could jumpstart his brain. That’s a lie, he corrects himself. He doesn’t want you to stop; he just wants you. Wants you so badly that it hurts.

“Attempted murder,” Mingyu mumbles helplessly.

God, he’s pathetic.

Head slumped to the side, he finally allows himself to look at you. Immediately, he has to wonder: is there anyone who wouldn’t beg for you? He’d be on his knees in a heartbeat if your parents weren’t loading a dishwasher, several meters away. He’d clear the table himself, too,  if sweeping his arm overtop and sending silverware to the ground counted for anything.

Unbothered by the internal crisis you’ve started in him, you stroke him slowly, like you have all the time in the world to end him; and not a care at all that you might get caught in the process. The kiss you leave on his jaw is so soft — and so laughably chaste, all things considered — that he’s not sure it even happened. To keep from pleading out loud, he grinds his teeth even more harshly together.

Are you there, God? It’s me, Mingyu.

His prayers are answered immediately, which makes him a little bit suspicious — and a lot more feral.

You hum, amusement downright musical, and he shivers. “I’m going to help them finish down here. Wait for me upstairs?”

When Mingyu shoots up to his feet, the force of his thighs against the underside of the table threatens to flip it. The remaining wine glasses wobble in place, but thankfully, you’d all killed the bottle some time ago; no drop is left to be spilled. He still cringes at the close call, though. With a grimace, he mutters rapid-fire apologies — whether to you, the glassware, or the God of Dirty Thoughts, he’s not sure. 

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from laughing, which Mingyu appreciates. His clumsiness would have been embarrassing if he wasn’t so incomprehensibly horny. All that blood flow has been redirected away from his brain, though, and his dirty mind can’t focus on how not cool he’s being about all of this. 

Just you, that little smirk on your lips, and the million ways he wants your mouth on him.

Once he steadies himself, it only takes a second for Mingyu to race towards the stairs. Any and all chill he might’ve had is left behind him in a cloud of dust.

It’s downright cartoonish, the way he scrambles up the steps — stumbling, knees colliding with the hardwood as he goes — but it’s effective. He reaches the landing in record time, then all but kicks open the door to your childhood bedroom. As soon as the doorknob collides with the wall behind it, Mingyu freezes in place.

That wall, he realizes, is the only barrier between your room and your parents’. Worse, your old bed is set longways against that very wall. And because the hits just keep on coming, it’s a twin bed. 

With a frilly purple duvet and shockingly minimal surface area, no less.

Horrified, Mingyu steps forward and places his hand flat against the small mattress. It doesn’t take much pressure to make the bed springs squeak — when has anything ever gone his way? — and that revelation nearly has him screaming obscenities at the ceiling.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

How is he supposed to fuck you under these conditions?

Frantic, he closes the door behind him, shuffles forward, and drops to his knees next to the bed. At his height, the frame barely reaches his midriff. Clearly, his life is a fucking joke.

Elbows now resting on the mattress, Mingyu clasps his hands together and leans forward to rest his forehead against his knuckles.

He’s never tried this before — not earnestly, anyway — and he doesn’t know where to start. Whatever the reason, he’s sure he can’t pray to any listening deity to let him get his dick wet. Anyone who hears his cry would smite him on the spot, he thinks, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Before he can settle on a prayer, footsteps sound off on the stairs just outside the door. The words are muffled; but there are multiple voices, which tells him that one or both of your parents have joined you on your journey upstairs. Suddenly, Mingyu is overcome with guilt. 

He’s in their home, having eaten their food — and now he’s a full-blown heretic, wanting nothing more than to devour their daughter like a man starved. But he can’t because, if he does, they’ll hear every dirty detail and —

Mingyu is many things, but he is not quiet.

You are, however, and he can barely make it out when you say, “Thank you, again, for dinner. And for letting us stay overnight.”

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Your mother peeps. Mingyu freezes, knowing in the rational part of his brain she can’t see him, but unable to stop himself. “It’s our pleasure! Really, it’s a long drive back for you two —”

Your father interjects, “— and Mingyu must be exhausted if he’s already in bed.”

For personal reasons, he thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut, I will be passing away.

There’s a moment of silence in which you must be hugging your parents goodnight, then there’s the quiet creak of the door opening. Footsteps, then more silence — you pausing for a moment, likely taking in the sight of him, then the door shutting softly behind you.

He can’t hear your approach over the hammering pulse in his ears, but he can feel the warmth of your body when you stand closely behind him. On instinct, he leans back onto his heels. A reflex of your own, you card your fingers through his hair and turn him into putty.

As embarrassing as it is to reckon with the fact, Mingyu acknowledges that the massage of your fingers might make him cum in his trousers.

“Were you praying?” You whisper, giggle evident despite the hushed tone. Your fingernails rake gently over his scalp; he swallows hard.

Mingyu is past the point of attempting nonchalance, so he confesses immediately. “Need divine intervention at a time like this. A twin bed? Parents? I’m doomed.”

“Maybe.” You lean down over his shoulder to purr into his ear. “Doomed or not, you look so perfect on your knees.”

That comment reverberates down his spine, ricochets off every vertebrae as it goes. He has to bite down on his fist to keep from groaning. It sure as shit doesn’t stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

You drop your hand from his hair to trail your fingers down the length of his neck, then across the top of his shoulder. As you do, you step out from behind him and into his line of sight. You, illuminated only by a small, butterfly-shaped lamp, confirm his suspicions:

Ariana Grande was right all along. God is a woman.

You maintain eye contact as you reach behind your back and begin unzipping your dress. The burgundy fabric pools at your bare feet, having slipped right over the silkiness of your thighs without issue. If he wasn’t already in his knees, Mingyu would’ve dropped the same way.

“How confident are you that you can be quiet?” You ask softly. “Stakes are high, and you’re normally so vocal.”

Right out of the gate, he trips.

Mingyu responds with bravado and without whispering, “I can do it.”

Then, he slaps his hand over his big fucking mouth.

Biting back a smile, you reach out for the collar of his shirt. The buttons are undone with care, like any and every decibel is too much of a risk. You hum as you continue your work, “We can make it a challenge, then. If you can stay quiet, I’ll let you cum.” 

He lets you slide his shirt off his frame as soon as you’re finished with it. It lands where your dress did, wrinkling white on top of red.

“If you can’t  —” You pause and gesture down to his belt buckle, which he’s already gripping tightly to. It’s undone before you can blink, which causes the side of your mouth to twitch upwards. “— I’ll stop.”

Mingyu nods, more determined than he’s ever been, and pushes himself to his feet. Less nimbly than you, he fumbles desperately with the button and zipper at the top of his trousers. Eventually, he frees himself and they drop, too. They land with a muffled sound before being kicked blindly aside.

Your gaze drops to his briefs, pupils dilating when you see the mess you’ve made of him. The dark grey fabric is close to black at the tip of his dick, arousal seeping into the fibers and tattling on him. That is, if the blatantly thick imprint of his length hadn’t sold him out already.

His knees threaten to buckle all over again when he sees a flash of pink swipe over your lips, wetting them as your eyes grow even darker.

No, he really might cum on the spot.

You step over your discarded clothes. Closing the distance, you flatten your palms against his bare chest, push up on your toes, and kiss him properly for the first time in hours. His only instinct is to whine like a fucking baby when his lips part and you lick into his mouth, but he refuses to break this close to the starting whistle.

No, Mingyu will keep his shit together. He has to keep his shit together — even as you suck his bottom lip into your mouth and release it swollen with a pop.

“What do you want, baby?”

He doesn’t know if it’s his chest or your hands that are burning up, but a wildfire spreads as you run your palms down from his pectorals to his abdomen. Every muscle in his body tenses as your touch lowers. His lungs seem to, too, because he struggles to keep his breaths even.

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his briefs, knuckles tickling against the sensitive skin underneath his hip bones. You continue your questioning, as if he trusts himself to answer.

“My mouth?”

Oh god.

He wants it all, always and every which way, but he knows he won’t last a goddamn second in your throat — and you know it, too, even before he furiously shakes his head. 

Eyes laser focused on you, he does his best to beg without words. The puppy-dog eyes win you over every time.

When you smile at him like that — petal soft, still so devilish — he audibly sighs. There’s no helping him, he knows it. It’s a reflex, a rubber mallet to the knee. Thankfully, you let that breathy concession slide; let his briefs slide, too, until they drop unwanted around his ankles.

Mingyu is so hard that it hurts.

He’s a throbbing, leaking mess when your hand finally — fucking finally — wraps around his cock. Experimentally, you give him a light squeeze while you work the length. Your gaze flicks upwards to gauge his reaction, wrist rolling when you reach the crown.

If he had to guess, Mingyu would bet that he’s turned purple with the effort it’s taking to keep his needy mouth shut. But your eyes twinkle up at him and you tell him that he’s beautiful; and suddenly, his chest and cheeks go a shy shade of pink.

“Lay down, pretty boy,” you whisper, nodding your head towards that shitty little bed.

As he stretches out onto his back — to the best of his ability, with his heels nearly dangling off the end — he swears on his life that his friends can never know how weak he gets when you call him that.

You place your hands on his chest to keep your balance, lifting one leg over his until you’re straddling him. Your right knee settles uncomfortably between his leg and the wall, but you don’t complain. Instead, you look him dead in the eye and pull your fatal, black thong to the side.

Even in this piss-poor lighting, Mingyu can see the way your darkened eyes glint. He’s spellbound — there’s no other word to describe it.

One hand takes hold of his cock and lines it up to your cunt. The other raises to your lips, index finger extended. You tease him without saying a word, and he hears it loud and clear.

Oh, he’s going to be so good for you.

That’s what he tells himself until your arousal makes contact with the tip of his cock. That’s what he repeats in his head, over and over, when you sink down and gush around him, slick dripping to coat the centimeters that don’t quite fit inside of you. What he says out loud, elongated and definitely above a whisper, is:

“Fuuuuck.”

You quickly lean over his chest to cover his mouth with your hand. Though your pulses are both racing, he’s less focused on his total, abject embarrassment than he is on the amusement that causes your mouth to curve.

Keeping your hand where it is — for the good of everyone, really — you nip at his earlobe. He waits for the inevitable consequence of his actions.

Goddamn it. How stupid does he have to be to forfeit a prize like you?

“You don’t listen very well, baby,” Your hushed tone drips like honey into his ear. Involuntarily, his hips jerk upwards, pushing further into your wet heat.

Any distance is too much.

“But you feel so fucking good —”

Again, he ruts against you when your teeth graze his earlobe. Under your palm, his whimpering is unintelligible, but that doesn’t stop him. You catch his groan in your hand before it can hit the air.

“— might have to bend the rules for you.”

It’s torture. 

Mingyu knows you’re moving this slowly to avoid upsetting the box springs below, but whether or not there’s method to the madness, it’s still unbearable.

You swirl your hips in a way that makes his vision go white at the edges, grind down into his lap with quiet precision. He can feel that soft, spongy spot hiding behind your front wall; and he can hear those delicate little sighs as you fuck yourself deliberately.

He can feel his mind go blank, too, moments before your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. You don’t stop once he spills himself inside of you — you won’t, he hopes.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper, almost inaudibly. “I’m so close.”

The hand not covering his mouth disappears between your legs. If the way your eyes roll back is any indication, you’ve found what you were looking for. 

The sight of you is too much for Mingyu to handle. Nipples peaking through the translucent fabric of your bralette, wrist moving in the opposite direction of your hips, eyelashes fluttering while you rub spirals into your clit. Perfect, top to bottom.

Mingyu cums again when you do, refractory period be damned.

And when you collapse down onto his chest, walls still fluttering around him, he encircles you with his arm so tightly that he can feel you trembling through the aftershocks. With your face now nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the tables turn.

“Fuck,” you mutter. The sound is mostly lost against his skin, but there’s enough volume to make you both start to snicker.

You kiss his neck, nudge him with the tip of your nose. Whispering, you ask, “Not bad for a twin bed, huh?”

Mingyu snorts. “Kinda feels like high school. You know, parents on the other side of the wall, cute little bedspread,” His voice trails off so he can press his lips against your temple. Voice low in your ear, he smirks, “Nutting within thirty seconds.”

Your muffled laughter shakes his shoulders, too. Then, you fall into a silence so easy he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep on top of him. To his surprise, you peep, “I didn’t think this through.”

He hums inquisitively in response. You crane your neck to meet his eyes. 

You inhale deeply, then sigh, “I have to waddle down the hallway of my childhood home to the bathroom — right past my parents’ door — and pretend like we didn’t just do what we did.”

Mingyu flashes you a wolfish grin that catches you off guard. Your eyebrows raise in anticipation.

“Need some divine intervention, sounds like. Maybe if you pray about it —” 

The only thing louder than the playful smack you land on his bicep is your laugh, straight from the bottom of your chest.

[gglitch1dd]

Hiya my lovely!

I thought I'd come to the queen of KiriBaku to help me with a one-shot idea!

I've never requested a ABO fic before so I hope it's okay 😅

So Kiri and Bakugo have always loved the reader but never got a chance to tell her before she started dating, they still remain close but pine after their omega.

Cut to a few years later and the reader becomes pregnant but her current partner decides to be an a-hole and leave her.

The reader is distraught that her ex would leave her pregnant and alone and worried about how she'll manage to be a hero and a single mother.

Kiri and Bakugou won't stand for it and take her in and support her, there gonna be 4 times the father than that shitty alpha who left here was gonna be!

The Omega of their Dreams

Alpha KiriBaku x Omega Reader

Warning: Pregnancy, abandoning a partner, break up.

Katsuki stood scowling as he held onto his cup. Eijiro stood talking beside him to Sero as the two of them conversed about God knows what. Katsuki couldn't seem to care as he kept his crimson eyes stuck on you like he did every time he was in the same vicinity as you.

You stood next to your Alpha that you had been in a relationship with for two years. You stood at his side like a beaming beacon of light. A lot of the other Omegas crowding around you because you had the most beautiful scent in the entire pack especially now, with your growing belly carrying the pup of that jackass.

Katsuki wanted to kill himself when he heard that you were pregnant by that asshole that was nothing compared to one of the Alphas in Pack A let alone Katsuki himself or his Prime example of an Alpha and partner, Eijiro. They didn't deserve to have been able to touch your body nevertheless impregnant your perfect fertile ideal body that was meant for the best and nothing less.

Katsuki would wholeheartedly rather see you with any Alpha in his pack, even fucking Deku if it meant you would stay in the pack and not move with that idiot.

Now if you were to ask them how exactly they knew they wanted you, neither would be able to give a straight serious answer as to how. Maybe it was the way you smiled, maybe it was your sweet scent that somehow didn't disgust Bakugou as much as every other Omega's seemed inadequate. Maybe it was how much smaller you were than the two of them, how sweetly and warmly you would treat them.

The two Alphas had imprinted on you almost instantaneously and you found yourself part of their dynamic trio. Which is exactly why they were so possessive of you.

You stood there, radiant as ever, your scent wafting away from you smelling like the sweetest and calming thing in the world that even kept Katsuki's rising anger in check. You held your stomach over your maternity dress, smiling and giggling as you stood next to your Alpha. You looked gorgeous. Like a beautiful star that deserved to be hailed in the sky.

Eijiro was right. You did look gorgeous pregnant.

"Katsuki." The sound of his name pulled him out of his thoughts as he looked up at Eijiro. The redheaded Alpha looked down at him with a sympathetic look. He felt the exact same but he was Head Alpha, he had to put on a front. he had to be better. He mustered up a smile as he motioned to the empty glass in his hand. "Mind getting me a refill?"

Katsuki didn't answer as he took the glass with a grunt. Despite his aggressive nature, Katsuki was the bottom of their relationship and practically idolised Eijiro as his Alpha and as Head Alpha. As partner of the leader of their pack it was his job to make sure that Eijiro succeeded in everything and anything that he did for the betterment of the pack. Which is a job that Katsuki took deathly seriously.

Katsuki took the glass as he walked to his kitchen. He grabbed orange juice from the fridge, knowing that Eijiro wouldn't want to drink more alcohol than he already had tonight. Just as he finished pouring into Eijiro's glass,

"Mind pouring me some?" You asked as you waddled in with a smile.

The blond Alpha watched you for a moment before grunting out a nod. No Alpha could refuse a pregnant Omega's request especially when said Omega was you. "You should be sitting down, 'Mega." He told you as he fetched you a cup.

You chuckled as you moved closer to him. "I'm not helpless, Katsuki." You reminded him as you waddled over to him. However in the same breath, you let out sigh at the strain.

Katsuki couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle at your waddling. He couldn't deny that that was the best part of your current state. The constant waddling everywhere. He pushed your cup towards you.

You let out a grateful chirp making him stiffen for a moment. He watched you as you drank from your cup grateful for something to drink.

Katsuki swallowed down hard, looking down for a moment. "Just know that..." You looked up at the blond Alpha for a moment as he stood holding Eijiro's glass with a tight white knuckled grip. "We'll always be here for you, even though you're now part of their pack and shit." He let out with a low grumble.

At the sight of him, you couldn't help but soften your expression. Katsuki always cared so much but he just never showed it so blatantly. You giggled as you waddled over to him. You put a hand to his arm as you looked up at him. You smiled at him with a giggle. "I'll be fine Katsuki." You assured him.

But you weren't fine.

Because not even a two weeks later there was a knock at the Bakushima household.

Katsuki sat on the couch with Eijiro's arm wrapped around him. The two of them looked back towards the entrance hallway. Eijiro placed a kiss on his forehead before moving up onto his feet. "I'll get it babe." He assured his blond husband as he moved his hands into his sweatpants. "It's probably just Denki asking to borrow salt or something."

"It wouldn't be the first time." Katsuki scoffed.

The comment made Eijiro laugh as he moved to the door. The shirtless redhead opened the door. Standing outside the door was you. You stood outside with tear marks on your cheeks as you flicked your eyes up to him. Your eyes were glossy as you kept one hand on your stomach.

Eijiro perked up immediately. "Y/N! What- what happened?" He asked as he automatically moved to take you by your arms and escort you inside away from the cold. He closed the door behind you but looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows confused as to why you were here.

You starred up at your Eijiro. An Alpha that never failed to love you and take care of you. Just at the sight of his face you broke into a gut wrenching sob as you couldn't carry your own weight anymore. Eijiro quickly caught you in his arms, holding you up bridal style easily.

"Y/N! Y/N!" You were sobbing in his arms, burying your face in his neck. Eijiro could smell that you were about to drop. You were so close to dropping and that would have horrific consequences in your current state. "Y/N! Y/N, listen to me! Omega, breathe for me." He ordered as he moved you to have your face buried in his neck to smell his scent. Katsuki came running into the entranceway, his crimson eyes growing largely at the sight of you in Eijiro's arms. Before he could even comment or ask, Eijiro turned to him. Worry and fear in his eyes but masked by a controlled face. "Katsuki, call Melissa immediately!" He moved quickly to go upstairs. "We can't let the stress force her into an early labour."

Eijiro had rushed you upstairs to their bedroom, surrounding you in warm blankets and keeping you comfortable. He sat down with you, shushing you sweetly as he comforted you. It didn't even take Katsuki five minutes before he was there with the both of you, waiting on Melissa.

Melissa, after treating you, deemed you fine as she put away her things and left once more. All the pack doctor advised was that you were not to be put under anymore stress.

It was another thirty minutes before Eijiro and Katsuki decided to talk to you. Eijiro moved back to sit behind you, holding you in his arms and leaned against his large bare chest. You were silent as you leaned against him, Katsuki sitting on the edge of the bed near the both of you.

You closed your eyes as you leaned back against the warm Prime Alpha behind you. "I-" Your voice broke as you tried to control yourself. You swallowed down hard as you looked up at him. "I'm so sorry to do this to you. I-"

You were interrupted by deep rumbles from his chest as he moved to nudge your head softly with his chin. He moved one hand to your baby bump making you suck in a breath. His large hand moved to gentle rub circles over your stomach, calming you down at his loving touch. You looked up to him to see his face was set to something filled with almost adoration and wonder.

Eijiro had barely allowed himself to touch you while you were pregnant. He felt as though he couldn't do that with your Alpha around, it would look rude. But now? When you were sitting in his arms, in his den, with his mate?

Eijiro's rumble grew louder as he felt your stomach, a gentle kick hitting at his hand. A low chuckle came from his mouth. "Look at that... a strong little tyke." He whispered lowly. You felt the grip he had on your body grow stronger. The feeling of his large hand on you made you suck in a breath. It felt nice. You let out a low purr, heat moving up your face. You looked back up at him. "I knew you would look gorgeous pregnant." His low voice rumbled out making you have to swallow down hard, your scent growing heavy with a sharp pang of arousal. You couldn't help it when your emotions were all over the place right now.

Katsuki watched the smitten look on his mate's face, silently. Eijiro had always wanted pups, he had always been a family man. Katsuki knew this from the moment he met the Kirishima family. The sheer size of his family and the amount of love and respect that brimmed from that family was enough to confirm that Eijiro was indeed everything family orientated and more.

He didn't know it but, Katsuki knew how much it affected him. How much Eijiro's Alpha ached for an Omega to submit to him, to cherish him, for him to breed full of pups and be the loving dam to them. Katsuki knew how much Eijiro's eyes would just beam with adoration at young pups that would just surround him.

It sometimes drove Katsuki close to a panic attack at the beginning of their relationship when he realised he could never give Eijiro that. He could never hold a pup within him nor could he ever complete that innate part of their biology that was needed to compliment a Prime Alpha.

But... but you could.

Katsuki put a hand to your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, pulling you out of your head. "Y/N... what happened?" He asked lowly, now that Eijiro had calmed you down.

You didn't answer immediately as you took a shaky breath. You looked down at your stomach with a shaky smile. "They... they left me." You whispered. At that, both Alphas went stiff. "We were moving to his new pack but they... their pack rejected me. They didn't even try to defend me, it was as if they knew all along that this would happen. I didn't know where to go. How could they do this to me?" You let out with soft crippled chirps. "My poor pup will grow up without a sire, without a pack."

"No-."

"What-"

Eijiro moved your head to look up at him, his hand moving to grip your jaw. He looked down at you with a hard expression. "You are come back to our pack, you will stay with Katsuki and I. We will look after you and your pup." He proclaimed making your eyes go wide.

"B-but..." You turned to look at Katsuki before looking back at Eijiro. "I... I couldn't do that to you. I-"

"Omega." Katsuki took both your hands and held them in his hands. "Eijiro wouldn't be offering if we never wanted you in our care, in our lives." He saw the hesitation on your face. It made Katsuki release a low growl with an annoyed look. "Just say yes you stupid Omega."

You couldn't help but giggle as you rested your head on Eijiro's shoulder. "Okay. Thank you."

It was actually easy to say that Pack A had never been more happy to have you back and to know you were back to stay. You had never been more spoiled by anyone than by Eijiro and Katsuki. They had a whole nursery done for you connected to the room you were given, but if you were honest, you were never sleeping there. It felt too empty. You always found yourself in their bed, tangled up in their protective arms.

Your belly grew an so did the affections and gifts you were showered in. Although you weren't sure whether you were so ready to so quickly return their blatant affections, you didn't reject them. You loved them, on the contrary. Always had and always will.

Sooner than later, you found yourself in labour. With the pack Omegas there to help you, it seemed just a tad bit easier. However that didn't stop the big hulking Alphas not to be stressed out of their mind.

"What if they die!?"

Midoriya chuckled as he sat down on the couch with his phone in hand. "They are not going to die, Kacchan. Have a bit of faith."

Katsuki let out a low growl as he paced back and fourth trying to calm himself down but it seemed futile. Eijiro was mostly silent as he sat with a bouncing leg and the most stressed out look on his face.

A door was opened from upstairs. A set of heavy footsteps were heard until finally Denki appeared at the stairs. "Eijiro!" He called.

Immediately both the large redheaded Alpha as well as his blond mate stood up and ran over to him. The two Alphas ran up the stairs in haste, worry in their eyebrows and stress in their shoulders as they raced towards the nesting room. Denki had left the door open so they just ran inside.

"Oh look at the cute little thing."

"So cute."

"She looks just like you."

You looked up to Katsuki and Eijiro with a happy look, tears in your eyes. You motioned for the two Alphas to come closer to you. They were slow this time, almost scared that they would do something wrong. You held a bundle in your arms that was squealing and making noises as the both of you were pampered and taken care of by Omegas.

You chuckled as you looked up at them. "Alphas! Look at her." You let out excitedly. A little girl. A little girl that looked just like you, as healthy as a horse.

Eijiro and Katsuki stood at your side, looking down at the little pup. So small. So precious. Although they didn't say it, they both agreed.

That that was their little girl. That little pup was theirs.

And so were you.

-Glitch1d

[Sorry this took so long but I hope you loved it @honeybeebuns]

[milkteabinniechan]

please don't go

Bang Chan x !female reader. Friends to lovers fluff and smut. Chan is your best friend from childhood.

This is for the anon that sent me this wonderful suggestion!! My asks got all fucked up and then I lost your original ask I'm sorry :( I hope you like it!! <3

He was everything. And now he was on top of you. He knew everything about you. And now he was inside of you.

"God you're beautiful." Chan huffed out. His dark hair sticking to his forehead. His arms shiny from the sweat you were both creating. He was the beautiful one. You couldn't stop staring at his face. His brows furrowed together in concentration. His eyes locked into where he was sliding inside of you. Entering you at the most sinful pace. He had one hand wrapped around your thigh, propping you up around his hips, his other hand resting on your stomach so he could feel himself slamming inside of you. You watched him close him eyes as if he was trying to picturing your insides.

He was so intimate. So sensitive. You loved how he took his time with everything he did. You have known his since you both were kids. He went from teasing you about your newest haircut, to grabbing a handful of that hair in is perfect hands. You were leaving for University soon. Something neither of you ever wanted to talk about. He was staying here in your hometown to help with his dad's store. He knew you had to leave, to get away and start something new for yourself. He understood that better than anyone. But the thought of you leaving, driving away with a backseat full of suitcases and memories, was too much for him to take. He knew it would break him. So you didn't talk about it. Until tonight.

The night started like any other. Chan came over with plenty of junk food for your weekly movie night. It was your turn to pick the movie and he would bring the snacks, which usually means lots of sweets and sugar. You even came to calling him sweet tooth now. He disliked the name at first, rolling his eyes every time you spoke it. But he smiled at it now. You knew he liked that he had a name, that you gave him a name that was just for the two of you.

You both claimed your regular spots on the couch, a fair distance from each other but close enough that your hands would accidentally brush if you reached for something. You started the movie "Gremlins" and opened a bag of sour patch kids. Chan reached over to your lap to grab a few for himself. The sudden sensation of his hand inside the bag between your legs sent shivers through your entire body. You were going to miss him so much when you left. And all you could think about was savoring every moment with him while you could. But Chan wasn't talking, he wasn't laughing at the movie, he just sat in silence.

"You okay?" You mumbled with a mouth full of sour candy.

Chan's eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as he answered, "Yeah. Fine."

You rolled your eyes and let out a loud, obnoxious sigh. He should know by now that you know him. You know him inside and out. So you pause the movie and turn your body toward his.

"Let's not do this," you start, "Tell me what's bothering you."

Chan stands up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "Does it matter? You're leaving soon anyway."

You follow close behind him and grab is arm to turn him around. "No! Don't do that! You know why I'm leaving. You know it kills me to leave you."

"Obviously not enough, because you're leaving. Sure we'll call and text at first, but then you'll meet someone, some great guy, and I'll just be the loser you grew up with that never got up the nerve to make a move.." Chan had tears in his eyes. His hands were shaking. He had been holding this is for a while now.

"What do you mean make a mo-" your sentence was cut short but Chan's lips against yours. Both his hands cupped your face as his mouth and yours pushed back and forth into one another. Your height was making it difficult to reach his mouth like you wanted. You pressed up on the tip of your toes in an attempt to gain more leverage. And just like he had read your mind, Chan picked you up and held you around his waist. He chuckled inside your mouth mid-kiss and the feel of you against him. You ran your fingers through his hair and gave it a slight tug so your eyes met for a moment. The two of you had always had a connection. Very little words had to be spoken to understand what the other wanted, but you could see in his eyes he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear your voice say that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

"I want you." You breathed out.

Chan was maticulous in the way that he touched you. Memorizing every curve and valley of your body. You watched as he kissed your thighs, tracing kisses up to your cunt. He made eye contact with you at the entrance of your core. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath onto you. You spread your legs for him with a smile. "Do you want to see how I taste, sweet tooth?"

Chan nodded his head quickly. His eyes glossy and focused. He was in a trance and all he could see was you. The first sensation you felt was his nose. The contact made your back arch. You rolled your hips slowly into his large nose. You really fucking loved his nose. His tongue was next, giving long laps on your drenched cunt. Laps like a dog, his eyes closed, almost hypnotized look on his perfect face. He was taking his time, using his tongue to spread open your lips and folds. Low moans leaving his lips while he buried himself deeper. Your lips were thrusting faster now, climbing towards your orgasm. Your best friend about to make you come. Your best friend about to see you come undone for him.

"make me come, channie please" you beg.

Chan lets out a desperate growl as he grabs your ass and pulls you close to his hungry mouth. In turn you grab a handful of his hair with both your hands, riding out your orgasm into his face. The ecstasy overwhelming as you lay on the bed spread open and panting. Chan sat up on his knees and waited. He tilted his head. "You okay?"

You lifted your head to meet his gaze. He was so patient. So kind. You just wanted to fuck the shit out of him. He was your best friend and now he was so much more.

warnings: oral (female receiving), slight stomach bulge mention, unprotected sex (use protection!)

[baejax-the-great]

Absolutely reeling.

So I knew that the origin of "Hector was a great man, moral, noble, better than all of the Greeks" began as Roman propaganda that somehow has made it to now, the year 2023, and is still taught to high school students.

What I did not know was why scholars shit on Achilles as vehemently as they did (and still do).

My copy of Fagles' translation of the Iliad has a preface by a different scholar who I'm not going to bother to name because he's an idiot (and idk probably dead at this point). I read the entire thing, absolutely baffled, because he would cite a part of the text (that I admittedly had not read yet! at all!), quote it, and then come to the most batshit interpretation based on that quote I had ever seen in my life. His general take was that Achilles was a sociopath who had no feelings for anyone other than himself and his own pride, and every action he took (until welcoming Priam into his hut) was done in service of that pride. To support this, he decided that Achilles did not see Patroclus as a person, but rather as an extension of himself, and thus someone injuring Patroclus was them injuring Achilles, and so he did not care about Patroclus, he only cared about his wounded pride.

Yeah.

That sounded wrong before reading the book, and while reading the book all i could think was, "Did we read the same fucking thing???" Put in context, those quotations still did not support his conclusions whatsoever.

But i cracked open Caroline Alexander's "The War That Killed Achilles" last night, and she solves this mystery of "Hector good, Achilles bad" for me right out the gate (which is good because so far I've only read the preface).

Western Europeans by and large learned about the Trojan war from Roman stories, which became fairly popular, and not the Iliad, which was not translated into French or English until centuries later. As mentioned, these were propaganda that cast the Trojans in a much better light than the Greeks because the Romans believed they were descended from Trojan refugees. This starts a trend that is still going on in scholarly circles as casting the Iliad as a war between "barbaric Greeks living in a shitty, lawless camp" vs "civilized, educated, weaving, real-wife-having Trojans," making the Iliad a tragedy in which Homer for some reason skewers his own people and their warlike culture as barbaric while propping up a dead, foreign city-state. This interpretation is still extant and was the postscript to another copy of the Iliad I have.

According to Alexander, scholars closer to Homer's time saw the entire war as a tragedy--both the destruction of Troy AND the destruction of the Greek army. While this is not covered in the Iliad, very few Greeks actually made it home after Troy. Some that did were then outcast (Teucer for example), some were murdered (bye, Agamemnon), some went on to create new kingdoms in other places (Diomedes), but by and large, there was no going home from that war. There was no great victory with all their loot. The entire thing was a disaster for both sides, spurred on by fickle gods.

Back to the more recent European interpretations of this story, one reason Hector ended up cast in such a "good" light, despite being a dumbass who wants to dishonor dead people just as badly as Achilles ever did, was in order to make Achilles look worse. Why was it important that Achilles becomes a villain in this story in which he is very much not a villain? Because Europeans were involved in so much war with each other and the rest of the world that a young, insubordinate man who criticizes his idiot of a commander, decides his life isn't worth throwing away for this war, and refuses to fight to sack a city was an affront to their values. Young men were to be obedient, follow their commanding officers, and colonize the world for queen and country. Achilles suggesting losing his life is not worth it to prop up Agamemnon's war is a dangerous precedent for all the good little soldiers needed to make their nations wealthy.

It's almost funny that these analyses propping up Troy as a beacon of civilization were made by people living in countries so bent on colonizing the world. They identified with the city being sacked and not the greedy sackers of said city, who they were much closer to. And Achilles, educated, morally rigid, emotional Achilles, is recast as a sociopathic asshole who doesn't care about anyone other than himself, unlike all of those other beacons of selflessness among the Greek leadership.

The tragedy of the Iliad is that Achilles is right, the war is pointless, Agamemnon did dishonor the shit out of him, and it doesn't matter because he's going to die in it anyway.

Frankly, given how badly his character has been interpreted for so long, I think the muses owe him an apology.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: angst, hating loki for what he's done, only one bed trope

Summary: You hate Loki and everything he stands for. He ruined a bunch of lives, and you don't want to hear some bullshit on how the mind stone influenced him. He knows he's not a bad person, and he has to figure out a way to prove that to you.

Squares Filled: “god, if only you knew what you did to me.” (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You take some puzzle books and shove them into your bag along with some coloring books and markers. Where you’re going is known to have spotty Wi-Fi service despite you having the best service, so you’re making sure to bring something to do when you can’t get online. The last thing you put into your bag is noise-canceling headphones so you don’t have to listen to Loki yap the whole time.

The thought of him makes you so angry. You slam your headphones into your bag and zip it up angrily. You’re more than happy to go on missions for the team, but you’re not happy with going on missions that Loki is going on. Even worse, you two are going to be alone for this one. This is a highly sensitive mission that can only have a couple of people on it, and they chose you and him.

You haul your bag to the living room where Natasha and Tony are waiting for you. Loki is still getting ready but he can take his fucking time. You don’t like Loki and you’re not shy about it. Everyone, including him, knows your dislike for him.

“Where’s the fire?” Nat asks when you stomp past her.

“I don’t know why I’m going on this mission. Why can’t you go?”

“You can hack your way through anything. Right now, we need that skill. I’m not a hacker. I kill things to get what I want. You sneak in the back door.”

“Okay, why does he have to go?”

“He’s a master of illusions. You’re the perfect pair.”

“Don’t call us that,” you roll your eyes. “It’s bad enough I have to go with him, but going alone? Why do I have to be alone with him? Come with us.”

“You know why we can’t. The less people, the better. It’s only for a week. You can handle being with him for a week. I’ll even take your next two missions for you.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Loki! Hurry up!”

Loki appears seconds after you call him with his bag slung over his shoulder. He knows you don’t like him. You make sure everyone knows it whenever you’re within close proximity to him. He doesn't feed into your dislike because that would only egg you on so he silently takes whatever you give to him. It’s cute how angry you can get at him.

Your anger is justifiable. After all, he is the one who fucked with New York and brought an alien race to kill humans. He took Clint and used him as a puppet for his own greed. He killed eighty people in two days. He’s the one who let the Dark Elves into Asgard, causing a war to be brought to Earth. He’s not a good person despite him telling you over and over again that the mind stone influenced him for most of it.

“Have fun, you two,” Tony smirks, “but not too much fun.”

“Gag me,” you roll your eyes. “It’s not going to happen.”

You take your bag to the car while Loki stays behind with Nat and Tony.

“Be gentle with her. I don’t need her coming back in pieces.”

“I’ll check in in a few days,” Loki chuckles and walks out to the car. You fit your bag in the trunk leaving just enough room for Loki’s bag. He heaves it into the car and shuts the trunk. “Give me the keys.”

“Hell no. I’m driving.”

“Darling, you’re a terrible driver.”

“No, I’m not, and I’m not going to let you drive. I don’t trust you behind the wheel with my life in your hands. I’m driving and you can back the fuck off.”

Loki could have won this entire argument if he wanted to, but he’ll let you have this one. If you two are going to be stuck with each other for a week, he’s gonna have to pick his battles around you. This won’t be the only fight and it certainly isn’t the last.

You two pile into the car, and you’re off. Loki turns to you to say something but you immediately turn the music on so you can’t hear him. Loki sighs and lets you have your tantrum, but he does want to talk to you. He lowers the music to speak but you cut him off.

“Let’s get one thing straight, shall we? We’re doing this mission together but that’s all this is. The mission. I don’t want to talk to you unless it’s work-related. Got it?”

“You’ve got to talk to me sooner or later about something else.”

“I choose later,” you smile sweetly and turn the music up again.

Tony is responsible for your shelter and he picks the worst fucking place on the planet. The motel he chose is run-down and old with the sidewalk chopped up, the paint in the parking lots is so faded it’s hard to tell where the next parking spot is, the building looks like it’s going to collapse any second, and the numbers on the doors are no longer there. Only a faded shadow of what was.

The inside isn’t much better, but what did you expect? The people you’re targeting are weapons dealers who choose places like this for a reason. No one would go looking for someone if they were here. Tony is one of your good friends but you’ve always hated his sense of humor. If you call him now, he’s going to say it’s a mistake on his part because there is only one bed. One bed that you and Loki have to share.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you huff out in anger.

“It’s only a bed, love,” Loki says and walks inside.

“I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Be my guest.”

It’s already too late to do anything so you two get ready for bed. You grab two pillows and drop them on the floor. This isn’t going to be very comfortable but you’ll do it if it means not sharing a bed with Loki. After you brush your teeth, Loki prepares to take a shower. He closes the door before he gets undressed, and you glance over in curiosity. He hasn’t closed the door all the way so you can see him through the sliver.

His back is turned to you but damn, it’s a muscular back. He may be lean but he has well-defined muscles. Thor likes to show his off while Loki is more reserved. His pale skin glistens in the dim glow of the bathroom light, and you look away before he catches you staring. Yes, he’s quite handsome for a God. You’re not blind, you have eyes. No, stop it. He’s a bad person. He’s not handsome.

You shake your head and grab the top blanket layer on the bed to get comfortable. Your back is going to hurt the whole time you’re here but you refuse to sleep on the same bed as him. Loki finishes his shower quickly and quickly changes into silk pajamas. Of course, this motherfucker would have silk pajamas.

He walks out as he’s drying his hair and scoffs when he sees you on the ground.

“Really? You’re going to sleep on the floor?”

“Yes, now go to bed.”

“You can have the bed.”

“No, you take it. I’m fine down here,” you say stubbornly.

Loki sighs and doesn't argue as he gets into bed. An hour after the lights are out, you’re no closer to sleep than you were before. Every time you move, you end up knocking some part of your body onto the cold ground, and it’s starting to piss Loki off.

“Darling, come up here,” Loki finally says.

“No.”

“I will pick you up off this floor and tie you to the bed if you don’t get in it yourself.” If you’re being honest, the thought turns you on. He will make good on his promise so you stand up and transfer the pillows and blanket to the bed. You get in it but stay at the very edge. There is no way you’re going to be touching him in any way. “You’re being a child.”

“Shut up and go to bed.” You close your eyes to get some sleep when you feel his cold hand on your skin. Chills run down your spine but you’re not sure if it’s from how cold he is or if you’re turned on. You quickly slap his hand away before you get your answer. “Don’t touch me.”

Loki chuckles and lays on his back. An hour later, he can hear your soft snores that he finds adorable. Knowing he’s safe, he grabs your waist and pulls you into him. Subconsciously, you snuggle into him which makes him smile. He runs the back of his finger down your cheek gently so as to not wake you up.

“God, if only you knew what you did to me,” he mutters.

He has to find a way to make you see he’s not a bad guy, and he’ll do it for the rest of his life if that’s what it takes.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 7 ⬅ch.6

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. nightmares. wc 3.2k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter got me feelin some typa way

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ghost struggled to come to terms with his feelings towards you. he knew he had grown to like you, but what did that entail exactly? was he interested beyond friendship? and even if he was, he couldn’t act on his desires – a lieutenant can't get himself involved with a subordinate medic. and the fact that you were often on his team meant he was your direct superior half of the time… things could get messy extremely fast. 

he also liked to tell himself that you wanted something he couldn’t offer. a relationship – romantic or platonic – he had an unrelenting habit of closing people out.

so ghost decided he should avoid you. not entirely, that would be impossible , but he had to shake you from his thoughts. he needed time to wipe out the memory of you pressed against him in that closet. of the way your hands felt wrapped around him on his motorcycle. the fear that coursed through him as he watched you run into that burning house. 

he thought of you often, and he fucking hated it . 

he thought back to the day he spoke to you before thinking: “ you’re the one who told me to let people in. ” you had properly scared him when you ran into that flaming building. that’s when he knew he had let you slip into the cracks of his shell without even realizing it. 

i’d sooner kick your ass off my fuckin’ team if it meant keepin’ you safe. from leavin’ me. 

he had immediately regretted the words. he told you he’d kick you off the team if it meant keeping you from getting yourself killed – aka – leaving him. 

he ran a hand down his scarred face as he looked in the bathroom mirror and sighed. he was worried you’d get the wrong idea. granted, he meant exactly what he said, but admitting that to you was a new level of danger simon wasn’t accustomed to. becoming acquainted with his teammates was one thing, but letting you in was a whole different story and he didn’t know why. he didn’t know why he started to crave your presence, ever since he had you bandaging him up after he was shot weeks ago. you had been different… you were still radiating hope. this shithole hadn’t crushed your soul yet. you reminded him a bit of soap. 

he grabbed the sides of the sink and stared at his reflection, disgust rising in his throat. why, of all people, did it have to be you? why couldn’t his cold, dead heart beat for someone outside of this line of work? or even better, for no one at all . 

i’ve neva had a lil’ crush on my lieutenant, actin’ like this is all a big fuckin’ game.

his own words clogged his brain. god, there was no way you’d forgive him for being such an ass. and maybe that was for the best. 

he went over all the reasons he needed to pry you from his thoughts: your relationship would be forbidden; he’d hurt you; you’d probably hurt him; you’re too young for him; he has no fucking idea how to navigate a romantic relationship. all solid reasons to him.

then a stupid, careless thought popped into his head. maybe…maybe he could just get you out of his system… but were you the type of girl who could do sex with no strings attached? simon didn’t want to admit that he’d certainly be the one who’d get attached, so he scratched that off his – lacking – list of options with the rationale being that you’d probably get hung up over him.

all these logical reasons, and he still couldn’t shake you. he was fucked . 

it was late and simon had a meeting with price, a quick debrief on the whole hassan situation. he kept his outfit light, sporting just a long-sleeved black shirt, black sweats, his combat boots, mask, and gun strapped to his hip. most of the barracks would be asleep by now unless soap had somehow convinced gaz to play another round of poker. 

ghost walked the halls, stealthy in the shadows of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. it was a natural part of his gait now: to blend in and be silent. 

he stretched his arms over his head as he sauntered down the corridors. he heard a strange noise echo down one of the halls and he halted. curious, he changed direction and started to walk down the right corridor towards the sound, hearing the noise more clearly now. it was coming from one of the rooms. 

it sounded like… crying. someone was sobbing and whimpering in distress. 

ghost’s first reaction was that someone was hurt, in trouble, but as he edged towards the door, he realized it sounded more like someone having a night terror. 

he slowly pushed open the door that had already been left slightly ajar, letting the faded light slip into the room, and spotted you on your tiny, smaller-than-a-twin sized bed. he cursed at himself when he realized it was your room he was walking into uninvited.

but that moment of doubt slipped when he heard you begin to cry, whining in your sleep. he made it over to the side of your bed and said your name softly, not sure what else to do. 

when you didn’t respond, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried again. “ come on. wake up .” he attempted to be quiet, he didn’t want anyone to hear him and come snooping about, finding him in your room… at night… in the dark. wanting to prevent that, he quickly went to your bedroom door and shut it before going back to your side whilst muttering curses. his hand came out, softly resting on your shoulder, and he gently shook you. “wake up,” he tried again. 

he clicked on the light by your bedside and felt his heart twinge when he looked back at you. the lamp created a terrible yellow glow, but that didn’t disguise the tears you had streaming down your cheeks. 

he leaned over you, his body getting precariously close to yours, and he gave you a harder nudge. this time,  you finally opened your eyes. the tears continued to pour down your face and you hiccuped a tired sob out. ghost tucked some of your disheveled hair behind your ear on instinct. “ you’re okay ,” he said faintly. 

“ghost…?” he saw your lips quiver as you sat up, realizing you weren't alone in the room, and you reached for him, almost colliding with ghost’s head, wrapping your arms around his neck. he jolted upright a bit in surprise, pulling you with him. his arms hesitated, but after a few moments, they found a spot around your waist like his body was familiar with this. 

he could feel you crying into his neck and his hand on you tightened, pulling you flesh against him. 

“please don’t tell anyone,” you mumbled against him. 

ghost was oblivious to his hands as they began to rub circles on your back. “why would i tell anyone?”

you pulled away, your hands still clasped around his neck, and looked at him. ghost gulped. your eyes were red and teary but that just made them that much more vibrant. you had tear marks down your cheeks and your hair was all over the place. his chest tightened momentarily. he desperately wanted to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but he refrained by tightening his grip on you instead.

your eyes shifted down in embarrassment. “just… will you keep this between us? please.”

it hurt him to think that you either thought so lowly of him to worry that he might use this against you, or because of the fact that you didn’t want anyone to know you were struggling. 

a pang of hurt spread through ghost before quickly subsiding. did you think he was the type of person who would casually gossip? fuck , of course you did. you were probably worried he’d throw this back in your face in the future. he had done nothing but diss out insults and begruding remarks at you since day one. has he ever said a kind word to you? he was trying to remember, but your face so close to him made it hard. 

ghost thought about his own nightmares that plagued him and how he hadn’t told anyone either. he kept it to himself. knowing that feeling, he nodded at you in an unspoken promise: this was between the two of you, and the two of you only. 

you released your arms awkwardly and ghost set you back down so you were sitting on your bed. that's when he realized you were only in a tank top and sleep shorts – skimpy ones at that. he averted his eyes quickly, though he desperately wanted to linger on you. 

“sorry,” you said. ghost couldn’t see, but he figured you’d be blushing. “this is so embarrassing.” you buried your face in your hands. 

“it’s not,” he said finally. 

you looked up at him and gave him a mirthless smile. “it is. i can’t believe i still get nightmares like a kid.”

ghost’s hands slipped into his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them. “i get 'em too.”

you shied away from his gaze. “you don’t have to say that.”

“i wouldn’t lie jus’ t’make you feel better.” he didn’t know why he had to say it like that, but he was relieved when you gave a small laugh, even if it was breathless. 

“yeah, well it seems more appropriate for you.”

he tilted his head in a quizzical manner. 

“ i just mean that you have been in combat… i can’t imagine the horrors you’ve seen… things you’ve done…”

“jus’ cause you haven’t killed people with your own hands, doesn’t mean you can’t have things that haunt you.”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. your intention wasn’t to get ghost to comfort you – he was probably wishing he had never walked into your room right about now – you were simply embarrassed and wanted to gloss over the situation, but it came off as self-deprecating. it figures he wouldn’t let that slide. 

ghost shifted between his feet. you felt your face warm as he stared down at you sitting cross-legged on your bed. 

ghost opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “would you stay with me?”

oh my god. you waved your hands in front of you frantically. “no, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. i–i’ll just go bother soap. don’t worry about me,” you said all at once as one long slur of words. you can’t believe you just asked your lieutenant that, especially now that he knows about your ‘lil crush’, as he called it. he’d certainly think you were obsessed or reading things wrong. 

to much of your astonishment, ghost gestured his head forward, indicating he wanted you to scoot over. you clumsily did, your shoulder now against the wall. 

the room was small, just one bed with a mattress – the other cot was barren, your roommate situation up in the air at the moment – and there was no chair. he only had one option if he was to stay with you.

a pang of annoyance coursed through ghost. what could johnny do that he couldn’t? he thought to himself in challenge. and so he settled in beside you, his legs stretching across your bed. it was a tight squeeze with his formidable frame and your tiny ass bed.

you felt your whole body heat up, his shoulder against yours as he squeezed into the small space. 

ghost was doing precisely the opposite of what he had just lectured himself on. 

“you don’t have to…i didn’t mean to–”

“jus’ close that mouth of yours and go t’sleep,” he said coolly, though his skin was burning where you leaned against him. 

you were propped up on your pillow and you both laid there in silence. ghost wanted to say something – to tell you he was sorry. to tell you that he is only an ass because he doesn’t know how to control his emotions. but the words evaded him. and that was probably for the best. 

you weren’t sure how you were going to fall asleep with ghost now at your side, keeping you on edge. but after only a few minutes, your eyes grew heavier and fluttered shut against your will, your head lulled against him as sleep overtook you. his presence reminded you that you were safe. 

he felt safe . 

simon cursed under his breath as he felt himself smile when you leaned into him, your body falling into a slumber. he knew better than to allow this. he pushed his mask up slightly to rub his mouth and chin, itching to get away from you, and touch you, all at the same time. 

you woke in the morning, alone in your bed, your blanket tucked around you, and the smell of ghost lingering on your sheets. 

days had gone by and you and ghost had been successful in ignoring one another. 

you stood in the training room, plenty of other soldiers around you, either working out on a machine alone or in pairs. you stood on a training mat and huffed. you had decided to keep practicing your combat skills for the chance that another mission would pop up. you wanted to be prepared. only having the skillset of a medic wasn’t cutting it for you anymore. not after what you went through. what if one of the other men hadn’t been there to save you – i.e. ghost.

you were stretching your arm across your chest when hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you up off the ground. a burst of giggles left you as soap spun you around before plopping you back down. you turned to face him. “can i help you?” you teased. 

“actually, thought maybe i’d help ya train for a lil bit. if ya wanted,” he offered. he wore leisure workout clothes and had already set his water bottle down beside the mat. 

“you don’t have to. i’m sure you’d rather–”

“let me stop you right there, lass. i'm offerin’ because i want to. quit second guessin’ yourself.”

you gave him a faint smile. he was right. soap was always right – but you would never tell him that. it would just get to his head. 

“alright. fine, then.”

he grinned and began to stretch. 

thirty minutes must have gone by and you were drenched in sweat as soap pinned you to the mat time and time again. 

“i thought you woulda improved since last time,” soap teased. 

you playfully rolled your eyes and brushed your hands against your sweats, getting ready to go again. “it’s not my fault! i’m trying!”

“well, whatever percent you’re givin’ it, double that.”

you scoffed but smiled brightly at him. you had been so caught up in the moment, you never noticed when ghost had came into the training room. there were multiple soldiers scattered around, so even if you had been paying attention, you still might not have seen him.

he wore gray sweats today and a tight black shirt. a sight you would have got choked up over.

“arms up,” johnny commanded. 

you listened, setting your hands and arms in the correct position that he had shown you earlier. then soap launched at you, and you tried to dodge his attack, side-stepping swiftly. but soap was lithe and nimble. he hooked his arm around you and pulled you to the ground and you let out a yelp. 

you landed on your back and looked up at soap breathlessly. he was nestled between your legs that were bent at the knee. his hands were on either side of your shoulders. 

“now what’re you gonna do, lass?” he teased. 

you smirked and attempted a move he had demonstrated earlier and that you had used when ghost pinned you in this position. you squeezed your thighs around soap’s waist and tried to roll your body. you felt soap go limp, allowing you to more easily roll him underneath you – if he hadn’t, you likely wouldn’t have had the strength to maneuver him. 

soap smirked as you landed on top of him, straddling his hips and giving him a self-assured, satisfied look. 

“don’t look too cocky. i let you move me.”

you rolled your eyes and huffed. “soap,” you whined. “how am i gonna learn if you do that?”

soap’s hands lingered on your hips, both of you blatantly unaware of how intimate you may have looked right then. 

“you’re half my size, lass. so unless you wanna bulk up, yer never gonna be able to move me.”

you shook your head. he was right. 

“i jus’ want you t’know how to execute the basics for now. know t’motions. don’t worry bout anything else.”

“ugh,” you sighed. “you really had me thinking i could best you.”

soap chuckled, and in a lazy motion, he pushed you off of him so you fell to your side on the mat. “never gonna happen, love.”

you pursed your lips and begrudgingly accepted his hand as he hoisted you up. 

ghost was sat across the gym, leaning on his spread-out knees, twirling a knife in his hand as he watched you and soap. you hadn’t felt it, but his eyes were on the two of you the entire time he was in the training room. there was fire blazing inside ghost as he watched you and soap all over each other.

soap was squeezing his water bottle into his mouth, walking towards ghost. “hey, l.t.” he called. ghost’s eyes flickered away from you – who was currently collecting your things to leave – and looked up at soap. he gave him a grunt as a greeting, but that was all. 

“what’s got your panties in a knot?” johnny asked, scratching his scruff as he eyed which machine to work out on next. 

ghost’s hand clenched his knife, his eyes tracing your figure as you left the gym, completely unaware of his presence. he should talk to you , he thought. things had been left… uncomfortable between the two of you. were you friends? did you still think he hated you? were you actually interested in him? could you forgive him for being a jerk? did he even want you to forgive him? were you still embarrassed about him finding you crying in your room?

ghost stood against his better judgment, wanting to follow you out of the gym, but before he could take his first step, gaz appeared beside you, draping an arm across your shoulders, and walking with you out the door, both of you laughing at something he said. 

“fuckin’ hell,” ghost muttered to himself. he slid his knife aggressively into it’s sheath above his sweats and decided to take his frustration out the only way he knew how: overworking his body. 

johnny watched as simon approached some equipment and jumped up to the pull-up bar and began heaving himself up and down with what looked like he was exerting no effort at all. the way he was going at it so hard made johnny wonder if he was okay. 

“ghost,” soap called.

“leave it, soap,” simon replied with a grunt, wanting to drown his inability to digest his own emotions in a workout. he’d rather clear his mind with needless violence, but this would have to do for now.

chapter 8 ➡

[brucewaynehater101]

Oh my god, I love that so much. Tim's heart beat was only for Kon, so when Kon went away so did his heart beat. It's still gone because Tim hasn't even come *close* to recovering from Kon and Bart and Steph's deaths, even if all three of them are back they still deeply effect him. Also Tim being the heart of the team so so <3 to me.

Tim 100% will use this incident against not just Bruce, but the entire family. Dick suggests he cuts back on the caffeine and Tim replies, "the only time I do is when I'm Relaxing on a trip and last time I went on a trip you nearly killed Ivy because you were to stressed to think straight." and when Jason comments he should take a rest, Tim says, "I only rest on trains but last time I got on one, you nearly made another duffel bag of heads."

Turning back time a bit though, can you imagine when they get to the train car that Tim is on, expecting it to be some grand show down with all of them in costume? And then they hear... music? coming from the train car that the tracker says Tim is in?? They all swing into the car while Tim's back is to them, yelling along to Shakira and when he turns around it's literally, "WHENEVER, WHEREVER, WE'RE MEANT TO- AAAAAAAAA" And he jumps a solid foot in the air while chucking his MP3 at the closest Bat, Bruce, and hitting them square in the forehead with it. Tim is death glaring them as he says, "what the fuck are you doing here, I'm on vacation. I'll be home tomorrow, what the *fuck* is so important that you tracked me down on my day off???"

Yes! Exactly. There's so much angst to be explored with Tim's missing heartbeat, how that reflects his current mindset/relationships with people, and how that affects Kon. I like to hc that Kon listens to various YJ members' heartbeats as a calming measure and reassurance. His inability to hear Tim's causes him stress and heartbreak (your choice on whether that's platonic or not).

Tim is a chaos gremlin who uses guilt tripping (in lighthearted measures) with a vicious lack of mercy. It only works half the time on his family members anyways and is a healthier form of airing out grievances (than trying to attack anyone).

Tim most definitely is swaying and dancing to the music when the Bats find him. He refuses to be embarrassed by this. If they want to make fun of him for dancing and singing alone on a train, they can suck it.

Tim: "What the fuck is so important that you tracked me down on my day off??? The world better be ending."

Bruce: "Tim... you weren't answering your phone and no one knew where you were."

Tim: "I'm on my vacation like always? You know this!"

Bruce: "No. No we didn't."

Tim: ".... Is this another case of me assuming you know about something that's been happening for years?"

Bruce: *nods with pursed lips*

Tim: *sighs heavily*

Jason: "Wait.... your vacation is riding cargo carts for days?"

Tim: *points a finger at Jason* "I don't want to hear judgment from you, Mr. Red Helmet."

Also, the reveal of them finding out why he developed this de-stress mechanism is going to be great. Just Tim refusing to make eye contact as he tries to nonchalantly explain being abandoned in another state/city and having to make his way home before he was even a teenager. Then he turned this very messed up form of neglect into a semi healthy form of decompression due to the same incident happening more than once to Tim.

The Bats obvious go fucking ballistic

[wekiamo]

still love you

first request!! hope you guys enjoy it (ik the title is so cliche im sorryy 😭)

part 2 here

warnings: spoilers for Scream VI, swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of getting stabbed and murdered, and i think thats all!

no, this can’t be happening. ethan landry? your fucking boyfriend? no, this had to be some sort of joke.

at least, that’s what you thought. but you knew well it wasn’t true, and you were just trying to convince yourself none of this was real. well, it didn’t work. you were still there, standing in front of all these killers you’ve been running away from.

you were still trying to process everything that was happening, when quinn steps forward your direction with her knife in her hand, and your brain just stops working correctly. you could be killed right there and right now. you certainly didn’t want to die, you still had so much to live - you wanted to travel the world, learn new languages, meet new people and even have an own family. and you wanted to experience it all with ethan. the guy you just found out to be a psycho killer, who was just trying to kill you this entire time. all of your moments together were fake? you felt the need to cry even harder than you were already. ethan, the guy who you loved the most in this world and you thought loved you back, did not want you or your love

he wanted your blood. he wanted to see you dead.

“oh poor [name], you’re not even what we want. there’s no need to be so scared of us this soon.” quinn said as she turned to sam and tara “it’s you two bitches we want”

“why? why are you all doing this? did we ever do something to you-” tara was cut off by quinn’s voice “yes you little whores you KILLED OUR BROTHER” she said, yelling at the two sisters.

“we don’t know who you guys are talking about, seriously!” tara said with a desperate voice and look in her eyes, while sam looked like she was processing their words slowly.

“is… richie… your brother?” sam asked, between pauses.

“yes, and it was you, sam. you were the one to kill him you fucking slut” quinn said kind of quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“now, we all know both of you girls love [name] like she’s your sister too. wouldn’t it be such a despairing thing to watch her be stabbed and killed right in front of you?” bailey asked, making ethan smirk “i don’t think we should do it right in front of them, dad. they shouldn’t even get to see it, only listen to her screaming miserably while she’s dying” the tall boy said, gaining everyone’s looks at him.

“nice one, ethan. wanna do the honours?” bailey asked the boy, who was smirking once again.”

“you better not fucking TOUCH her, you asshole” sam yelled. “you don’t get to yell at us, bitch” quinn, that was next to her and tara, threatened sam with the knife in front of her throat

“come over here” bailey ordered, and you not obeying him. “no, no i’m not going to.” you said crying, trying not to fall on your knees from the mental weakness you were experiencing.

“NOW.” ethan yelled in a rough tone. you stepped forward slowly scared for your life as you could perfectly listen to tara’s whines. “stupid slow whore” quinn said behind you as she pushed you hardly, making you stand in front of bailey and ethan.

were these your last moments?

you finally managed to say something: “ethan, i- how could you do this to me?”

“yeah, and how could you be so dumb?“ ethan laughed as bailey and quinn did too, you looking at each of them, with fear and disbelief in your face.

“well now i guess it’s time to say goodbye to your little friends” the boy said, grabbing you roughly by your wrist and pushing you in front of him, taking both of your hands and putting them together on your back as he grabbed your shoulders, guiding you somewhere.

“tara, sam, please, i don’t wanna die.”

you were now somewhere darker. you couldn’t really see what was happening inside the place, but you knew something: these were probably your last moments.

he took his hands off your shoulders and stopped guiding you, as you stopped walking too. he was now standing right in front of you.

“i loved you deeply, ethan. do you know how much i trusted you? or how many times i argued with my friends for defending you and your unexistent fucking innocence? of how many times i cried just by feeling guilty of being suspicious of you? i loved you and trusted you with my heart, ethan.”

“listen [name], i need you to scream” the boy said gently, making your brows furrow in confusion.

“what?”

“scream like you’re getting stabbed or something.”

“wait, you’re not going to kill me..?”

“don’t ask too many questions. just do it, quick before they come and check what we’re doing.”

you smiled and hugged him tight. you knew this could be some sort of trap but you still felt relieved that there was a chance of you getting out of here, and see all of your friends alive and happy again.

“okay i’m ready. 1, 2, 3-”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I just wanted to say that the way you characterize and talk about Miguel has actually really helped me with thinking about how to write for him 😭 genuinely I love the way you describe him as an actual like person and not just some sex addict or someone who's extremely distant and cold. I hope you continue writing mild Miguel because it's so refreshing compared to all the other shit I see 😭💕

THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS A MIGUEL SAFE SPACE AND LIKE- CAN I BE REAL FOR A SECOND???

MIGUEL ISN'T AN ASSHOLE YOU PEOPLE ARE JUST MEAN - A.K.A -

My Defense & Evidence of a Milder, Non-aggressive Sympathetic Miguel O'hara.

[This is a half-break down half rant about Mild Miguel, when we see Miguel's true nature, and what fandom gets wrong about him. I have my evidence.

this is shorter than my usual posts but I'm going absolute apeshit Miguel Mode by the end so sorry you have to see that.]

I think Miguel and Hobie are the two most complex characters in the film. Like - both of them equally.

It's just really easy to explain one over the other.

I feel this way because every character we see in the entire movie - Miles, Gwen, Peter, Jess, Rio, Jeff, The Spot, everyone - is forthcoming and clear about their intentions and motive throughout the movie.

When we're watching the movie the first time, we understand Miles motive, and Peter's, and Gwen. In real time. It's there and stated. Miles wants to save his dad, Peter wants to be a better mentor, Gwen just wants peace basically.

But when we're watching for the first time - we have no idea what Hobie OR Miguel is capable of until they do it.

They are the two we're surprised by. (And they're also exact opposites who somehow don't seem to be complete adversaries)

They're the only two within the film who we are left to speculate their motive, their drive, and what they'll do next.

They're the only two in the film who are truly meant to catch us off guard with their behavior.

Leading up to Hobie's big twist, there was a LOT of misdirection. I think the same is true for Miguel...but like..the fandom isn't picking up on the misdirection AT ALL.

I have a lot of ideas and thoughts about Miguel and his character and honestly I think it's the exact opposite of what the fandom sees.

But when its's Hobie, it's very easy to understand him, just read the wiki on Punk and you're good.

But I don't think anyone has look closer at Miguel yet.

I genuinely believe that the reason Miles got away was because Miguel went soft.

He was watching the videos of Gaby to remind himself why he was doing this - why he had to stand his ground, but when Miles started panicking, and begging to know how much time he had left - Miguel slipped up. He went soft.

And he told him 'two days'.

You can see it in Miguel's face when Miles is asking.

That's not the face of a man considering assault. That's not anger. He's wavering.

He didn't have to tell Miles how long he had left. But he did - why? Cause he thought 'I'd kill for two days with Gabby. A lot of people get less warning about death - Maybe he can spend those two days with his fath-'

and then Miles is like 'word?? two days to stop you?? iight im out also fuck yall' - which understandable have a nice day

But like......Miguel wouldn't have said it if he knew it would fuck him over. He didn't KNOW Miles was radicalized cause he didn't know Hobie had spoken to him. He thought that telling him might convince him. If he knew Miles was gonna run - there's no need to tell him anything.

He could've lied and said "I DON'T KNOW. But maybe let's talk about this."

But he didn't. He slipped up.

He's SOFT. Everytime he's mean, or angry - He has to think about it. Like when he looked at Hobie - and thought about it. He has to MAKE himself do it. It isn't natural to him.

Nobody else in the room was gonna answer Miles. Miles wouldn't have known. But Miguel told him two days. And because of that, that specific slip-up, Miles is trying to save his dad.

Why? Because he's SOFT. CAPITAL S SOFT.

Miguel is not a raging monster. Or aggressive. Or manipulative.

He's a guy who thinks he's holding the universe together with duct tape and a kid is in front of him begging to know how long they have left with their father and he tells them and because of that they get away and now everything he worked for is gonna emplode in his face because he had a SOFT SPOT FOR A KID AGAIN AND DID SOMETHING HE SHOULDN'T AGAIN AND TOLD HIM AND NOW PEOPLE ARE GONNA DIE AGAIN BECAUSE HE MESSED WITH THE MULTIVERSE AGAIN FUCK-

Like...yeah- he snapped. A normal person would snap. I've snapped for way less and a lot of other people have.

Granted, we don't go mauling children.

I don't know, I just feel like he's an incredibly layered character.

Because when he's ranting and screaming at Gwen like an irritated school teacher we're already like 'oh fuck you dude but also fuck you ;)'

so when he's right there doing things like this - we don't see it. The same way we don't see Hobie's stealing - because we think we have him figured out.

We don't see Miguel's tenderness.

Because we assume we know who he is - he's cold and aggressive and rude and hates Miles,

but like...is he really?

Miles is getting upset - and the whole conversation leading up to it Miguel has talked to him from a far, hands when Miles can see them. He's not trying to stand over him, or intimidate him. Miguel knows he's scary. He knows how to be scary.

He isn't trying to scare Miles. The exact opposite. He's trying to comfort him.

And when Miles starts lashing out - Miguel is genuinely surprised. That isn't the look of someone who THINKS he's about to hurt this kid.

He's telling Miles, hands up "Hey, sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you." He immediately lets go, backs up.

I just---- FUCK, PEOPLE THE MAN IS STANDING RIGHT THERE THATS MILD MIGUEL LOOK AT HIM

If you really really think Miguel is naturally aggressive, or angry, or cold -

If you write him that way -

I ask that you rewatch the leading up to Miles' escape. Look at his body language. Watch him, and look at his face. That's all I ask.

I just kjsjrghjkSIGHIDDGU I CAN'T STAND FOR THIS INJUSTICE AND EMOTIONAL ILLITERACY

HES NOT A GOOD GUY BUT LIKE....HE'S ... THE ONE YALL ARE SERVING...COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MAN.

He's SOFT. The same way he caved for Gwen after a little pushing. He caved for Miles after a little pushing. That's why he told him two days. SOFT

MILD MIGUEL, SOFT MIGUEL, WANTS TO DO THE HARD THING BUT FUCK HE CAN'T DO IT MIGUEL, HAS TO STAND COMPLETELY STILL AND UNMOVING TO NOT CAVE TO MAYDAY MIGUEL, MIGUEL WHO LOVES PEOPLE BUT KEEPS HIS DISTANCE AND SHUTS HIS MOUTH BECAUSE PEOPLE GET HURT MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL

I'm going to go Miguel Mode.

If understanding Hobie was a house, the fandom is standing out on the road.

If understanding Miguel was a house, the people aren't even in the same neighborhood. We're in the next state over. Other side of the globe. Off base by like 12 zipcodes and 4 times zones

Mild Miguel. Please tell me you're seeing this.

Am I crazy for thinking that the slip up - of telling Miles two days - wasn't out of stupidity but PITY? SYMPATHY?

Because Miguel thinks getting to spend two whole days with some you'll lose is a BLESSING to him - not a curse.

Even though to ANY non-traumatized person - it would be a curse.

...... yo

Miguel stepped into Gabriellas life because he didn't want her to lose a father. He KNOWS losing a father hurts.

So when Miles is there in front of him, talking about not wanting to lose his father - Miguel KNOWS how he feels. Gabby didn't want to lose her dad either.

Miguel UNDERSTANDS. He's a FATHER -

HE KNOWS HE'S BEING THE BAD GUY HE KNOWS ITS WRONG NOT TO STEP IN THATS WHY HE STEPPED IN FOR GABRIELLA IN THE FIRST PLACE THIS ISN'T THE PERSON HE WANTS TO BE OR THOUGHT HE'D BECOME YOU PEOPLE ARE MEAN AND HORNY -

I- I can't even i'm sorry I -

I have a longer post about this in the works like breaking down all of his body language from his moments with MJ and Hobie and like teverything

but ITS NOT EVEN LIKE I THINK HE'S RIGHT I JUST CANT STAND PEOPLE BEING THIS WRONG ABOUT IT I CANT

If you see him as aggressive or cold this post isn't meant to be an attack. I am just down bad for Mild Miguel and I'm going delirious with hunger and starvation for him

#Justice4MildMiguel Maybe I'm huffing copium but also i know im fucking not he's RIGHT THERE

[And if you hate Miguel like hate hate him Moche says dishonor on you dishonor on your cow dishonor your family and your land in the name of Aia Paec Almighty]

If you made it this far....Imsorry you had to see me that way I don't know what came over me here's a picture of Hobie to help me calm down.

(aka Hobie judging the fuck outta me in my head)

I need a glass of water. Bye.

[shankschewtoy]

If you were in the hospital

a/n - I’m in the hospital so this is absolutely perfect 💪 kinda self indulgent sorry

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, sick reader, modern au, I bully kidd even when I’m sick (don’t worry I’m not too sick to bully him)

- this asshole wouldn’t fit through the damn doorway 💀 and he would be the person the other patients were complaining about

- “Um. Nurse? There’s this red haired guy who threatened to kill me earlier?” -random innocent person

- jokes aside, he would stay with you and get you whatever you need. Aggressively.

- “Hey Kidd, I need some water.”

- “NURSE I NEED SOME FUCKING WATER.”

- “Kidd! Ask nicely-!”

- “I NEED SOME FUCKING WATER PLEASE.”

- poor you 😭

- he would try and sleep with you on the bed but his fat ass can’t fit 💀 bro is too big for that

- he would also invite killer if that’s ok with you, killer is a better caretaker than him obviously

- he would be helping the nurses politely and making sure you were comfortable

- Kidd would literally threaten the doctor to come and check on you or else he’d kill his family 😭😭😭😭 pls save this doctor

- when the room gets super quiet, he’d ask the literal most random ass questions so it doesn’t get awkward but it gets more awkward after he asks them

- “Does your ass itch? Mine does.”

- “WTF KIDD?!”

- 💀💀💀💀

- He snores really loud so you’re probably not going to sleep very well, but knowing he’s there with you is comforting at least

- bro wakes up the other patients in other rooms 💀

- if Kidd is there, killer’s there too- they’re inseparable and also Kidd would die if killer and you weren’t there trying to keep this dumbass alive

- killer would be telling Kidd to shut up every five seconds as he should

- all in all, a 0/10 hospital experience, but a 10/10 emotional support experience 👍

- let’s just say this time, he’s not your doctor

- trust me, he’d be there before you even arrive in the ambulance 💀 he has everything you need

- changes of clothes, your favorite blankets, water bottles, stuffed animals, movies, literally everything

- he’d be the one who’s talking with the nurses and telling them what to do 😭 the poor doctor became his subordinate

- it got kind of annoying, but he asks a TON of questions almost every minute or so

- “Are you feeling nauseated?”

- “Dizzy?”

- “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

- “What’s your name, and where are you right now?”

- yeah he’s just worried, go along with it

- he’s the type of guy to literally never leave and just stare at you the entire time, it’s creepy

- “Law, you staring at me is not helping.”

- “I- wha-?! Fine. I’m just worried y/n.”

- “Okok! Sorry- you can stare at me- don’t sulk and turn emo in the corner!”

- “I’m not EMO!”

- “Yeah you kinda are.”

- Law is the definition of emo 💀 he can’t lie about it, and he can’t hide it, it’s just natural

- even if you don’t want to, he’s going to help you walk around the hospital room, just to keep the blood flow going

- he knows that even though you’re not supposed to move around a lot, walking a little bit is good

- law will not sleep at all- he will continue to stare at you as you sleep, it’s creepy 😭

- literally law: 👁️ _ 👁️

- it’s amazing how you were able to sleep with him staring through your soul, I commend you for that

- my man is THE WORST when it comes to you getting sick

- he looks everything up on google and gets the worst results

- “S/o has a horrible stomachache.”

- “Cancer.” -google

- “S/o feels dizzy.”

- “Cancer.” -google

- oml poor ace 😭

- he rushed you to the ER, and almost crashed into 80 cars on the way 💀

- “MOVE OUTTA THE WAY-! Y/N IS SICK MOVE IT!”

- trust me, they moved out of the way

- the doctors hate him because he thinks you have some crazy disease when in reality you just have a really bad flu

- “I’m telling you! It’s appendicitis!”

- “Sir- it’s the flu- please calm down.”

- “I’M CALM.”

- no he’s not 😭

- very confused by the machines

- “IS THAT LIFE SUPPORT?! I KNEW IT! YOU’RE DYING! AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

- “Ace. It’s an IV. It’s so I don’t get dehydrated.”

- “LIFE SUPPORT BECAUSE YOU’RE DEHYDRATED?! ASVJSBDJENDINFKFNFJF!”

- called sabo and started freaking out to him 💀

- “SABO. Y/N IS DYING WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?!”

- “Ace I’m sure y/n is not dying. Calm down.”

- “WHY IS EVERYONE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN?! I’M SO CALM RIGHT NOW?”

- you sure abt that ace?

- I can confirm that he is never calm when it comes to your health and safety

- he wouldn’t know what to do, but he’d follow you and stay with you for the entire time, so don’t worry about that

- he’s like law, and would stare at you literally every second that you’re there

- “Zoro you don’t have to stare.”

- “I dunno- what if you start having a stroke?!”

- “I’M NOT OLD IDIOT!”

- my guy doesn’t know that you’re not an old, senile elderly person 💀

- he would fall asleep on you while holding your hand, since he’s been so worried, it kind of exhausts him

- it’s adorable though

- he snores, but it’s cute that he fell asleep holding your hand just tight enough to let you know he’s there with you 💜

- if you ever needed help getting some water, a heat pack for your stomach, or literally anything? He’s got you covered

- but if he has to leave your room for it he might not come back. Ever.

- as you were watching tv about some crash a couple miles away, you saw a green haired guy in the background that looked oddly familiar

- he seemed to be buying a water from a vending machine

- when he turned around you almost broke the tv remote in half

- “ZORO?!”

- nah this idiot 💀 y/n I suggest you put some kind of leash on him

a/n - zoro needs to eat the gps gps no mi 😭