#another drabble haha

[yostresswritinggirl]

Cyno x Reader x Alhaitham; art by @403pa

"Hold that thought."

The finger on your lips is soft and gentle, the hand on your shoulder firm and warm. Cyno's pensive gaze was intense as his gaze looked to the side, while yours were wide and dilated from the sudden proximity. Mind blanking, you fail to notice the scribe scoffing next to you.

Both of your attention was on the white-haired man as he rounded to an alley, the wall obscuring your vision as an unfamiliar voice came from there. Next thing you know, you startle at the sound of a scream as Cyno pinned some stranger to the wall by the neck, pleading for his life.

By the angle of the scene, although you cannot see much, you could just imagine the terrifying crimson glare the general had just by looking at the culprit's paling face. Soon enough, the man was unconscious on the floor as Cyno made his way back over, dusting his hands like he had taken out the trash.

Cupping your warming cheeks and stumbling over your words when the man in front of you asked you to continue, Alhaitham can't help but roll his eyes, leveling his gaze with Cyno's prideful ones.

"Stay right there."

Alhaitham urges you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you close behind him as his body moved to a fighting stance, cold eyes flitting across the port. Sliding his hand down to yours, he kept his gaze at the Eremites surrounding you two. A reassuring squeeze, before the man slotted the handle of his sword to your hand.

Does he not need this? Your panicked eyes met with his over his shoulder, only for a smirk to appear on his chiseled face. "Hold that for me, would you?" Before dashing to the nearest enemy after catching them off guard.

You held your breath at the sight of Alhaitham using his fists and legs to incapacitate an Eremite one after the other, once using the enemy's haunched over back to leap off of and dropkick the second to the last member. He didn't even have to try, evading the attacks swiftly before moving in to knock the guy unconscious with an elbow to his temple.

The commotion ended with the Scribe standing tall amongst groaning men on the floor, flicking his coat aside as he stalked over to you. His breathing is audible now, but there was barely any sweat on his forehead. "You're drifting off again." You startle at the feeling of his grip around your hand, the one barely holding his sword.

A few blocks away, the General Mahamatra clicked his tongue in annoyance, pushing himself off the wall as he walked away from the port. Guess he wasn't needed this time.

"Such weirdos, aren't they? Of all the people..."

"Why is he here again? We were just having a nice time too."

"The lunatic and the dwarf in one place?"

"Have you heard? Those two had been beating up citizens lately, I wouldn't be surprised if they're just harassing that one -"

Cyno and Alhaitham quickly turned at the sound of commotion following a crash behind them, their trained bodies already holding their weapons out in a defensive stance. Only when the crowd part did they let up, realizing the situation.

A whimpering dastur cowering with his head in his hands laid on the ground, held down by a foot on his back. Following the owner of the leg, the two were dumbfounded to see you glaring at the random researcher, digging the heel of your shoe at his back.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Your voice was raspy and deep. "If any of you badmouth Cyno or Alhaitham again, I'm coming for you." A challenging growl resounds from your chest as you lift your head, daring the people around you to stare back.

And in the crowd you saw two familiar heads, who had their faces covered with their hands, face slightly angled away from your view.

"Someone should report to the Grand Sage about that heathen-"

The bystander immediately shut his mouth in fear the moment the Scribe and the General turned towards him in break neck speed. No matter how out of place the blush is on their faces, the glare they don is still very, very terrifying.

Seeing Red, 2022.

i just find it amusing for hot men to equally oogle at their hot lover. again, not my best work, i should really stop throwing these random ideas and actually work on my fic plans hahahah

[ruershrimo]

i. toge x fem!reader | aftermath of a confession

for a while it’s just the deafening silence between the two of you and the clanging noises of chopsticks on glass bowls. of course, he knows that it isn’t going to last forever even if he wonders if it will, but your lack of words definitely fails to prove that wrong. 

see, the problem is this: toge’s sitting right in front of you— his dream girl, his crush of two years and all that. since the moment you first walked in the classroom and he’d caught sight of you, he’d been hopelessly and utterly smitten. perhaps it was the way you smiled at others, shy as you were; the way you laughed at his antics without fail and tried to lift people up no matter how much you struggled with doing so. it was that kindness; the type that didn’t need gestures and touches, the type that didn’t call for empathy or sympathy. just that plain kindness. 

and soon after it came his love for everything else: your hair, your eyes, your skin— the way they shined in the sunlight. he was sure he wasn’t that obvious. yet he supposes that besides maki, panda and yuuta who’d already known him enough to tell, it could have been relatively easy for all the other students of the school (basically, all the first years) to notice his infatuation with you— well, save for you yourself. 

he didn’t think it’d amount to anything, though. as much as it hurt to think that. not with the way his technique held him back; you needed someone who could speak to you, look after you that way. he needed you to not feel lonely. he had insistence from maki and panda that you were every bit down bad for him as he was for you, yet he still couldn’t believe them in full. despite all his jests and cheeky shenanigans, he would never consider himself bold enough to be able to confess it all to you. so why do it, when you wouldn’t be able to reciprocate in the first place? 

which is why he was shocked when you bowed over, scrunched your face up in embarrassment and handed him a letter in a sealed envelope before lunch on a random tuesday, stammering that you’ve liked him for more than a year, can you please consider going out with me?, and running away before coming back just for lunch. 

at least if maki and panda were here, things would be less awkward. but maki is still out training, and panda’s off to do whatever pandas do before lunch on random tuesdays. 

“takana…” he starts, eyes on your crestfallen face. the only thing your eyes are on is the food you’re eating. 

“…I’m sorry…” you mutter. he barely makes it out from you. 

“ikura!” he says. No! 

an idea strikes him then. 

you cock your head to the side in confusion as he whips out his phone and his thumbs fiddle away across its keyboard. 

toge’s confident now. if the two of you like each other, why not start something new? he’d love to take you out. he hands you the phone. 

“‘I… like… you… too?’” you read out, squinting at the tiny font.

toge sees your heart stop, breaths caught in your throat, your cheeks warm— scratch that, you’re crying. 

wait, why were you crying?!

“takana!” 

“I-I’m so glad,” you sniffle,” I always liked you. I didn’t know how to say it. it was painful seeing you every day knowing how I felt, and- and thinking there wouldn’t ever be a chance you’d like me back!” you sob, burying your face in your hands as if it could hide anything, “and then when I gave the letter to you, I was so nervous, I-I should’ve stayed there or given you something you liked, but I panicked!” 

nervously, he inches his hand closer to yours. your watery eyes widen. “shake sushi,” he reaffirms. the circles he rubs over the back of your hand make you feel like he’s smoothing over creased paper on your skin. yes, he likes you too, so don’t worry. don’t cry. you may be crying, but if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging so wildly regardless. 

both of your hands grab one of his with shaky movements and a slew of hiccups. “I’ll try my best.”

“mentaiko.”

thank goodness.

[ghosts-cyphera]

Okay hear me out… what if pornstar!ghost and reader were given the opportunity to do a mmf threesome but our boy ghostie gets a lil competitive🤭 he makes sure they both know no one can fuck her like he can😩

wouldn’t it be crazy if I already had a draft for this exact scenario with könig as the second man? that would be so silly, right?

[frantabulous]

another lil nimona drabble!! this one’s got ambrosius and nimona bonding <3 also only like 400 words lol tws: mentions of self-harm, panic attacks tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, ptsd

Sometimes, Ambrosius forgets to breathe. Forgets that things are okay now. They’re better now. There are no monsters. There is no Director. There are no cannons, no walls, no nothing. Ballister has forgiven him. They’re leading a new world. All is well. All is well. All is well. And yet, sometimes he can’t help it. Can’t help the unease in his stomach, the anxiety crawling up his back, the panic squeezing his chest. Most nights it’s fine. He doesn’t need to cope like he used to. He just finds Ballister, weasels his way into his arms, and all is well. Except, of course, Ballister is out tonight, out at some conference or whatever, he doesn’t remember. But Ballister isn’t here, and Ambrosius can’t breathe. His chest is tight as he rummages through the bathroom cabinets, searching and searching for a blade, any blade. His breaths come out quick and quiet. He rummages faster, knocking things off the counter and onto the floor. He must make quite the racket because there’s a knock on the door. “Uh, Nemesis, you good?” Ambrosius can’t breathe. Ballister is fine. He’s fine. They’re all fine. They’re all— He fits his hands on the counter, trying his hardest to take a deep breath but he can’t. He needs him. He needs Ballister. His best friend. His lover. His rock. “Nemesis,” Nimona sings. Nemesis. He was once Ballister’s nemesis. Fuck. The door is kicked down. “Dude, what the …” Nimona trails off. “Fuck.” Ambrosius looks at her and oh, what a sight he must be. He hasn’t showered in three days, his hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions, and he’s searching for a blade so he can ... you know. “Sit down.” Ambrosius does as she says, clutching his chest. Nimona is quick. She turns into a rather large dog and bounds to him, resting her head in his lap. “Relax,” she says. “You’re fine.” Ambrosius places a trembling hand in her fur. The weight of her on his lap is calming. And so, Ambrosius lets his eyes fall shut, resting his head against the wall as he slowly calms down. Slowly breathes. That’s where Ballister finds them, a good hour later. Ambrosius is dozing off, and Nimona is sound asleep. “Amb.” Ballister shakes his shoulder gently. Ambrosius pulls his eyes open. “Bal,” he whispers. “Hey.” Ballister cups his cheek with a hand. “You okay?” In response, Ambrosius practically falls into his open arms. “Yeah.” He glances at Nimona, sound asleep in his lap. “I’m okay. 

[good-beanswrites]

hi! may i request some mikoto + amane (platonic obvs) … anything? they are very dear to me 😭

Yes!!! Thank you so much for the request -- they really are such a good pair ;-; (The thing is, I had so many nice scenes in mind about how they parallel each other, but they wouldn't know or reveal that about each other so I kept restarting...) Anyway, here's something right after Mikoto's first trial/verdict!

Mikoto could pick up on someone’s bad mood from a mile away, though the skill was unnecessary when the other party very clearly and calmly informed him, “I’m in a bad mood.”

After refusing his offer, Amane turned back to a thick textbook she’d been taking notes on. Didn’t kids usually complain that school was already a prison? She must have wanted the full experience. He'd worked nonstop at his studies as well, but this was a new level. Amane often reminded him of his little sister, though she always took the extra step like this. His sister would have jumped at this opportunity to play a few rounds of their favorite card game.

“It’ll be fun!”

He flashed a smile, but it had no effect on her severe expression. “I know you’re just trying to comfort me about our verdicts. I refuse to be pitied.”

“Comfort and pity are two very different things. But anyway, it wasn’t either of those things.” He gave an easy shrug “To be honest, I’m just a little bored. It’s weird not having any work to do during the day.” 

Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time in his life he’d had so many hours to himself. A lot of the others were fun to play games with. A few of the sportier prisoners helped him stay active. He enjoyed smoking breaks with the other men. Still, he was left to his own devices for the majority of his time. It was maddening. He’d recently requested some more art supplies, having used up the last batch, but they had yet to come in. Now with the verdict announcement, he wasn’t sure they’d ever arrive.

“That is your own problem. I already have something to do.” Her eyes lingered on the cards for the briefest of moments before returning to the book. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for it.”

Regardless of her hostility, he took a seat beside her. He leaned his arms out on the table. “We don’t have to play the same game.” The last time they'd played as a big group, several prisoners pulling the tables together to fit everyone. Amane had kept very quiet, eyes darting around at the cards as she tried to keep up with the rules. Not many of the others noticed the frustration clear in her face. Mikoto wasn’t the type to let her win out of pity, though he had begun to mutter the rules and strategies to himself a bit more as the night went on… 

“Is there a game you liked to play at home?”

 “No. There was no time for games in the house.” 

“All work and no play… hah… I know what that’s like.” He slumped his cheek onto his arm, lazily shuffling the cards around. He felt bad for bothering the girl if she truly was upset. He thought it was the bad experience that made her reject him, he hadn’t realized there were also family issues attached. Usually he could read people well; maybe he was losing his touch. He seemed to be losing touch with a lot of things, these days.

He readied a game of solitaire. 

“Mikoto?” Amane kept her face turned away. “There was… one game.”

“Yeah?” Mikoto shuffled the cards back together. He slid them over to her. “You should teach me!” 

She didn’t touch them. “You probably already know it.”

“Nah, I only know a few games. I’m better with tarot cards, though those aren’t really the gaming type. Come on, what is it?”

She told him the name of the game, insisting it wouldn’t be worth playing. She kept her attention on the textbook, but her eyes weren’t reading any of it. 

“Ahh, I’ve heard of that one! We start with four cards, right?” He started dealing them out.

“No, five –” she pointed to the deck, urging him to add two more. 

“Right, right.” He laughed lightly. “And the goal is to get pairs, and put them in a pile, uhh, here.”

Amane shook her head. She shifted her body slightly towards him. “You must be thinking of a different game. There’s actually three piles for pairs. One here, one here, and when it’s your opponent’s turn…” 

Her eyes gleamed as she explained the rules. She pointed to various cards, telling him exact moves and point values. “And to win, you need to –” Her expression shifted. “You… you already knew all this.”

“Of course not!” He put on his most convincing smile. 

She deflated. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Tch, tell that to the warden.”

His shoulders sagged along with her. If Amane could see right through him, why was the rest of Milgram still coming up with stories about what he did and didn’t do? “Well, I might already know the rules, but it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You can still give me a hand. Plus, if you really are in such a bad mood, it’ll be good to take a break from your studies. You should always take a break when things get too overwhelming, yeah?”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Eh? What’s that face for?”

“Alright, let’s play. You can go first.”

“I mean it, what was that look? Aw, come on…”

[wordswithloveee]

Either we are here to motivate others or to become an extrovert in our own world.

[collectivecloseness]

joyce loves praising you when you're being such a good girl for her, but she definitely isn't afraid to put you in your place when you're being a little mouthy

Anon, do you know when I saw I had a Joyce ask, I literally went “eeeeeehee!”

She really does love praising you. Joyce loves laying on the “good girl”s, and the little treats, and giving you all the affection you want, when you’re being so good for her. She loves seeing her good girl do as she says, and be happily doing so the entire time. When you’re so good, Joyce loves being able to tell you so, and reward you. You get so cute trying to please her.

And also you love being praised by Joyce. Because Joyce just gives you the vibes of someone you want to make proud. And you aim so hard to do that when you’re behaving. Nothing feels better than having Joyce smother you in praise and affection, saying you deserved all the goodness she’s gonna give you now. Seeing that you’ve made her so happy! Hearing her say she’s so proud of you :’)

I also think Joyce definitely rewards you with kisses. And not just normal kissing and making out, that happens anyway. Any time you do something cute, or you agree straight away, or you’re being good, Joyce smiles happily at you, and gives you a quick kiss to your lips as she carries on. You end up getting so many kisses from her in sessions where you’re just being her best girl.

Joyce can also never resist when you look at her and ask “Kiss?” Or “Kissy?” With such a hopeful tone. Or sometimes, a depraved one, if she’d really been denying you, but you’d finally been forgiven. Of course, if you’re being naughty, you don’t get kisses.

But Joyce thinks you’re so cute, especially when you’re playing sub, that she’s always smiling at you and treating you so well. Really looking after you and being affectionate and loving and nice. All as she gives you what you need, and does things that make her feel good, watching you happily join her.

But yes. Joyce isn’t going to play your silly games if you’re being bad, especially on purpose.

Joyce climbs on top of you in one swift motion. Easily pinning your wrists down to the bed with her own hands, her knees on either side of your body as she looks straight down at you firmly, making you stop trying to wriggle out her grasp. “Uh uh. None of that.” Joyce shakes her head seriously, and her tone really starts bringing your subby side out, making you shrink a little into the bed. “Now you don’t get to cum.”

Joyce had been teasing you down there for a while, just about edging you. But now her hand wasn’t cupping your cunt only shielded by your, now wet, underwear. She was hovering above you. Not even sitting on you!

Feeling needy without any of her touch down there, you started bucking up your hips. Small muffled moans leaving your mouth with your effort. You tried to give your best puppy eyes to Joyce, up at her. “Please? Need it.” You asked hopefully.

But Joyce shook her head even more this time. “Noooo, naughty girl. You know the rules. You’re a big girl, you decided to be bad all on your own.”

She kept teasing you by not letting you up. And still not placing any pressure on you from herself. She knew you’d like that too. Joyce didn’t give way, and her hands were firm when you tried to buck up at her again. Her brown eyes knowing, as she tilted her head to the side, unimpressed at you.

You really felt needy for her now. You hated when Joyce looked at you that way, it was always the worst part if you were acting up. Even more so than her not letting you cum! You hated that disappointed look in her eyes, when you knew she wasn’t playing around. You didn’t want to be bad anymore, you just wanted to be hers.

Your lower lip began wobbling, the tips of your fingers stretching out to try and stroke Joyce’s hands that were pinning you in place. “I’m sorry. I’m your good girl now.”

“Oh no honey, you’re not getting out of it that easily.”

She’s very good at putting you in your place. She knows all the tips and tricks to get you to behave. And if you don’t, not only will you get punished, but you may not even be allowed to cum during those punishments.

One time you were still being so naughty, testing her, after you guys started a session specifically as a punishment for last time’s behaviour, Joyce stopped without letting you cum at all. And you were staying at hers for the day, so there was no way she was going to let you touch yourself either. That would completely ruin the purpose of her punishment.

Hours after you two had stopped, you’d finally apologised enough and promised enough that you would be good, and you wouldn’t act up like that during a punishment again. You came to Joyce while she was just spritzing some extra perfume in the bathroom, shuffling up to her to apologise, tears in your eyes that Joyce lovingly wiped away when she knew you were truly sorry. So Joyce got on her knees in that bathroom, and you had to grip onto the counter so your legs didn’t give out on you as Joyce finally let you cum on her mouth for being a good girl.

You never finish a session where she still has a naughty girl on her hands. Well, maybe only if you decide to tease her right after you two had finished. Pinching her waist, or getting a little bit of extra time down there, even after Joyce has already pulled you away from her cunt once. But if you come up smiling, so pleased with yourself, and you settle down after her initial warning, she’ll only smile back with a teasing “Naughty girl.” You still crawling back up into her arms for post sex cuddles after.

Whether you’ve had a very intense session if you were being very bad, or an extremely loving and fun filled easy going one, Joyce always gives you tonnnnnnes of cuddles and snuggles afterwards! She always has to snuggle with you as part of her aftercare. Not only does she want to make sure you’re okay, and feel good, and are coming down alright, but also Joyce loves snuggling with you too! Unless something happens (like her kids come home early) Joyce would probably want to spend an hour with you cuddling on the surface of wherever you two just boned. And then an extra two hours hanging out with you too, maybe watching a film, or listening to music together or something. Even if you aren’t having sex, the little time you guys have alone, to cuddle, and be close, or fool around a little, to be yourselves, and for Joyce to be able to take care of you, she’s taking it.

[dangerous-advantage]

If you want, a disaster twins hurt/comfort drabble? Maybe even cuddles? You don't have to if you don't want to.

(cws: heights/references to falling from heights, discussion of canon-typical trauma, cursing)

Lightning flashed through the cover of clouds, exposing their rain-swollen underbellies. Leo counted the seconds between the latest strike and its corresponding rumble of thunder.

One, two, three...

He kicked his legs to the rhythm of his thoughts, concrete bruising his heels. The sting was grounding. Up here, above the city lights and conversation, Leo could use all the grounding he could get.

A fat droplet of rain smacked wetly on his arm. He looked up, just as the sky growled warning and unleashed it's downpour.

Leo closed his eyes and pretended not to breathe.

The rain had been worse this year. The last three days had seen scattered showers and an endless, overcast sky.

Leo liked the rain. God knows the city needed it. It made him feel cleaner than he had in a long time. Like New York was finally washing its hands of the events earlier that summer.

If he let himself, he could almost pretend everything was back to normal. That it had never been un-normal.

But the rain also brought new and unfortunate side effects. His time in the prison dimension left him scarred. Several months removed, he was still recovering.

The rain ignited his deepest aches. He'd lay in bed, clenching his jaw to stifle his whines of pain as the muscles in his legs cramped and spasmed. His shell ached, too, the cracks in his carapace lit up like a live wire. He'd popped three ibuprofen the day before, but this time, it didn't save him.

He'd hoped fresh air would do him some good, but his thoughts were as raw as ever.

If he had the energy for it, or maybe someone to tell, Leo would've joked about it. But his dramatics were never entertaining in his own head, and they weren't meant for him, anyway.

He tipped his head down and sighed out a breath. Cold rivulets cascaded down his face, tracing his jawline. They fell to his lap in scattered droplets, refracting the city lights as they rebounded.

He was starting to get a bit too cold for comfort. They weren't fully cold-blooded, seeing as they were part human, but they were still susceptible to temperature changes, especially Leo.

He didn't want to deal with a cold on top of everything else.

Leo gathered himself, shifting into a crouch. His body protested as he came to a standing position, retrieving his katanas from where he'd set them.

His bandana was soaked, say nothing of his bandages. He'd need to change them before his brothers awoke. He'd better dry off his katanas, too-- he didn't know if mystic weapons could rust, but he'd rather not find out.

Retreating away from the edge of the roof, Leo could feel his heartbeat start to settle. Heights didn't bother him, exactly. It was more about potential. Sitting on a precipice, seconds away from what could be your last breath.

It was the ultimate test of arrogance. Would you really test your luck, lean over the edge to catch a glimpse of what lay below? Just a cursory misstep and you would be sent plummeting, with only moments to contemplate before you were crushed against concrete.

Adrenaline was an effective tool for alleviating the worst of the pain. It probably wasn't a healthy practice, but what worked, worked.

Summoning his ninpō, Leo slashed a katana through the air, flinging rainwater with the sweep of his blade. The air rippled, a pool of blue reflecting in the puddle beneath him.

With barely so much as a thought to serve as a directive, the connection stabilized, pulling at his gut. Leo stepped through, shutting the gate behind him.

He emerged in their bathroom, water dripping off his disheveled form to the floor. Glancing up at the clock, he frowned. Had it really been three hours?

Leo set his katanas on the counter and foraged through the cabinet for a towel. He discarded the first two he grabbed on account of their worn texture, tossing them to the ground behind him.

His fingers closed around plush, white material, and Leo pulled out a newer-looking towel. It would do nicely.

He set to work drying his katanas with fastidious motions, guiding the towel into the crevasses where excess rainwater might accumulate. He dried his first katana once, and then a second time, before doing the same to the other.

When he was satisfied, he turned back to the cabinet and rifled through it, looking for a first aid kit. He'd had Casey restock recently, given how much of their supply had been damaged in the Kraang invasion. He didn't remember if anyone had put them away-- they might still be on the kitchen counter, for all he knew.

Leo gave up, nudging the cabinet shut, and carried his katanas to his room. His body was really starting to hurt again. He perched on the edge of his bed, tensing the muscles in his body.

He let his eyes flutter shut. His body felt washed out and faded like an old t-shirt, washed one too many times. Maybe he should just try and rest while he could, before the pain returned in full.

But the medic in him eschewed the idea. Not to mention, his brothers would kill him if he risked infection by something so careless.

Heaving a sigh, Leo abandoned his bedroom, making his way to the train car that housed their kitchen. To his surprise (and wariness), the lights were on, curtains drawn.

Had Mikey forgotten to turn off the light? That wasn't like him.

(Which meant he probably hadn't.)

Leo procrastinated by the entrance, killing time locked in an internal dialogue. Somebody else was up, or had been. Most likely scenario, it was Casey, being a light sleeper.

He was also the only person that knew about Leo's midnight escapades. He'd confessed that knowing Leo was gone set him on edge. Often, Leo would return to find him sitting in his room, eyes on a distant memory.

Shaking off his indecision, Leo pulled himself up into the car, grimacing at the jolt of pain that ran up his shell. He stepped inside and froze, stomach dropping to his knees.

Donnie sat on a stool at the counter, thumbs flicking over his phone screen. An empty bowl and spoon sat in front of him on the otherwise clean surface, evidence of a midnight meal. There was a cutting board in the sink and a stockpot on the cooktop.

Donnie looked up from his phone, eyebrows slightly smudged. They knit together in confusion as he took in Leo's waterlogged state.

Leo shifted his weight. "I didn't know you were up."

Donnie raised an eyebrow. "Went for a midnight swim?" he deadpanned.

Leo moved past him, toward the opposite counter. "Something like that," he mumbled. He withdrew one of the first aid kits from a plastic grocery bag stowed on top of the fridge.

His thigh dissented, muscles contracting, and he gasped. He bent over, resting his forehead on the fridge, eyes squeezed shut.

A stool creaked, sliding back. "Leo?"

Leo gritted his teeth. A bead of water slid down his face and fell from his chin like a teardrop.

"Just sore," he groaned. "I'm fine."

He could feel Donnie's presence as he approached. He stopped a few feet behind where Leo was standing, back bowed.

"You don't look fine," he pointed out.

Leo hadn't "looked fine" since the prison dimension. He choked on a laugh at the thought, unable to smother it. He couldn't see Donnie's face, but he could imagine the expression it displayed with ease.

The tension between them grew. When was the last time Leo had talked one-on-one with his twin? He didn't remember it ever being this awkward.

The cramp in his leg let up a little. Leo gingerly placed it on the ground, testing his weight. The sooner he could get out of this situation, the better.

"I should go," Leo said finally, straightening. He turned. Donnie's arms were crossed over his plastron, examining him with narrowed eyes. Leo stepped around him, gaze avoidant.

He got halfway across the kitchen before Donnie spoke.

"How long were you out?" Donnie asked. "Your bandages are soaked."

Leo recognized the trap laid out in his brothers' casual demeanor.

"Not long," he replied, matching Donnie's tone. "Just needed some air."

"Hm, is that so? Because I've been up since midnight, and it's now--" He checked his com band. "--two thirteen, so unless you magically gained the ability to be quiet, I'm not sure your story holds water."

Leo resisted the urge to make a pun. "Hey, I can be quiet!" he protested.

His brothers (somehow) hadn't realized just how accurate Leo's ninpō had gotten in the previous months. He would prefer it stayed that way. (Raph definitely wouldn't be too happy to find out how much time Leo spent overlooking foreign cityscapes instead of sleeping.)

"Don't change the subject, Leo, I know what you're doing." Donnie placed his hands on his hips. (Did mutant turtles have hips?)

Leo held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Fine." Prime example of a battle he refused to pick. "I lost track of time, sue me."

Donnie blew out a breath, and Leo knew they were entering safer waters. Works every time, he thought.

"Just tell me you didn't go far?" Donnie asked wearily. "Raph would freak."

"I didn't," Leo assured him. It wasn't a lie-- compared to his usual destinations, his trip to downtown New York was a novelty. "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

Donnie hesitated. Leo's expression grew shuttered.

"No," he sighed. "Just-- next time you go out, could you at least leave a note or something? That way, if you get kidnapped by pirates again, we'll know where to look?"

"That was one time," Leo argued. Donnie sent him The Look™. "...Okay, two times, but can you really blame me?"

"Yes." Donnie stated the word without hesitation.

Leo hid a smile. It was easy, falling back into their familiar banter. He had missed this.

His legs gave a throb of pain and he winced. "I should go," he said reluctantly.

Donnie blinked, caught off guard. His gaze took on a hint of concern. "Oh. Uh. Right." He shifted uncomfortably. "Here. Do you... I can carry that for you." He gestured at the first aid kit.

Leo wanted to refuse, but he'd officially run out of luck. At that moment, his legs gave out beneath him. He crumpled, carapace smarting at the sudden movement.

"Leo!" Donnie knelt next to him, eyes dark with worry. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he groaned out. His leg gave a traitorous pulse, and he yelped.

Donnie stood. "I'm getting Raph," he decided.

"No!" Leo cried. "Honestly, Tello, I'm fine."

"Is that why you're laying on the kitchen floor?"

Leo swatted weakly at Donnie's calf. "No," he groaned. "It's just... the rain. Makes all my scars ache, and stuff."

"Oh," Donnie said. He returned to a kneel. "I... didn't think of that."

"'S fine," Leo grumbled. "Just need to re-wrap my bandages." Something he was not looking forward to.

His muscles slowly untensed, leaving a dull ache of pain in their wake. He let out a miserable sigh, closing his eyes.

In a moment, he'd need to get up and make his way to the bathroom. Though, he could probably get away with a few more minutes on the floor. Donnie had seen him through worse.

To his surprise, he could feel an arm slipping under his shoulders, helping him up. He cracked open an eye to see Donnie on his left side, bracing his arm on the wall as he helped pull Leo to his feet.

"Okay, come on," he groaned. "Let's get you to the bathroom before you forget how to walk again."

"Ugh, rude," Leo said, accepting his support. "You'd say that to an injured man? I'm on the cusp of death here, Dee."

"I'd say that to a dead man."

"What, was that a threat?"

"No, but it can be."

Leo snorted, then winced as they made their way down the steps. Donnie was careful, but not smothering, letting Leo lead. They limped their way to the bathroom, where Donnie set him down on a stool, flicking on the light.

"Thanks for leaving fucking puddles everywhere," Donnie said, lifting up his foot and shaking it. "Did you really not dry yourself off at all?"

"I dried my off my katanas," Leo defended. Donnie rolled his eyes and mumbled something beneath his breath. He turned and began rifling through the cabinet for a towel.

"Just use one off the floor," Leo said, kicking at the towels he'd discarded earlier.

"Those ones are shit," Donnie said, emerging triumphant with a fluffy, dark purple towel he must have hidden somewhere in the back. "Do you really want a sad, dirty floor rag? Not that it wouldn't fit you, but..."

Leo snorted, hiding a grin in the back of his hand. Donnie leaned over and swaddled him in the towel, wiping off his plastron with quick motions.

"What are you, some kind of towel elitist?" He leaned away, grabbing the towel for himself and pulling over his carapace. "smh, can't believe you were holding out on me." He rubbed his hand over the plush fabric. "I might be stealing this."

"Did you just say 'smh' out loud?" Donnie asked. "And absolutely not, I will destroy you."

"Then you gotta tell me who your dealer is, at least." Leo buried his face in the cushy material. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "This is exactly the kind of wasteful bullshit I need in my life."

"Frivolous luxury would suit you," Donnie mused.

Leo simpered up at him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do you even know what that word means? And don't fucking simper at me."

Leo simpered even harder.

Donnie grabbed one of the towels from the floor and threw it at him. Leo raised his hands with a laugh, shielding his face.

Donnie snatched his purple towel back. "Shh! You're gonna wake the others."

"I'm not the one who decided to commit a hate crime." Leo took off his mask and placed it on the sink.

"I threw a towel at you," Donnie deadpanned. "How is that a hate crime?"

"Because you were being mean to me." Leo wore his best pout.

"That's not a hate crime."

"It is if you hate me."

"I don't think you know what that word means, either." Donnie opened the first aid kit, setting it on the sink. "Okay, sit tight."

Leo stuck his tongue out, but kept quiet as Donnie leaned over him, inspecting his bandages. Neither of them spoke as Donnie took one in hand and carefully began to peel it off. He grimaced as it exposed the puckered scar beneath, gently dabbing it with a clean pad of gauze.

Leo didn't bother to wince at the soft prick of pain. It was so minuscule compared to everything else he'd gone through.

The thought was a depressing one, draining the small amount of humor he'd managed to recover out of his chest. He slumped a little, studying the floor.

Donnie seemed to notice the change. He paused for a minute, thinking. Leo could nearly hear the gears in his brain turning as he puzzled out what to say.

"...I hope the rain stops soon," he finally settled on, cautious.

"Yeah," Leo sighed. He glanced at the wall, his jaw working. "I used to like the rain."

"Yeah? Oh, that's right," Donnie remembered. "You would always beg papa to take you up to the surface when it rained. And then Raph."

Leo nodded mutely, turning his thoughts over in his head.

"Its... I just..." Leo glared at the wall. "It makes me angry."

Donnie replaced one of his bandages with a new one and started re-wrapping his shoulder. "The rain?"

A sudden wave of emotion rose in him, and Leo's hands clenched. "No. The Kraang. That they-- that they took that from me." He glared at the floor willing his mouth to not wobble. Damn it.

Donnie didn't speak, but he rested his free hand on Leo's shoulder.

"It's just-- it's so stupid." Leo tried for a bitter laugh, but it came out wetter than he'd intended. He sniffed, trying to get a hold of himself.

"It's just fucking rain. But it's like-- every time it rains, I'm not gonna be thinking about how much I like it, or drag you guys out to stand in it. 'Cuz all I'm gonna be thinking about it the stupid fucking Kraang."

Donnie had gone still, but his hand remained on Leo's shoulder, a silent show of support.

Leo swiped a hand over his face. "And it's stupid, because-- we got rid of them! The Kraang are supposed to be gone, or whatever." His voice broke on the word 'gone,' but he persisted.

"But they're still here. Everywhere I go in the city, I'm reminded of them. They're like... a shadow, or something, looming over me. All the things I like, they've infected." He barked out a wet laugh.

"I mean, did you know the reason I gifted all my Jupiter Jim comics to Mikey is that I can't read them without thinking about the Kraang? And it's-- so stupid because I love Jupiter Jim. But now I can't even watch our favorite movies, because every time it feels like a punch to the throat!"

Leo was about to cry, something he really didn't want to do right now. He took a tremulous breath. "I mean-- isn't that stupid? I know it's stupid." He let out a shaky laugh.

"...I don't think it's stupid," Donnie offered quietly. He returned to his previous task of changing Leo's bandages. "I think it makes perfect logical sense. We went through something traumatic. Of course it's going to affect us negatively."

Leo laughed, sharp and bitter. "Yeah." He glared at the floor.

It was quiet for a long moment.

"I get it."

Leo looked up, confused. "What?"

Donnie worried at the edge of his mouth, intent on his task. "Do you remember when I took control of the Technodrome?"

Leo swiped a hand across his face. Guilt twinged in his abdomen. "Mhm."

"In order to create a connection, it had to--" Donnie cut himself off. "Um. It had to. Physically connect to me."

Leo froze. "Like... how?"

Donnie tapped a repeating pattern on the edge of his shell, before reaching for the medical tape. "It was... through my shell."

"Oh." Leo said. Then, "Oh."

"Yeah," Donnie sighed.

Leo scuffed his feet on the floor. "Shit, Dee, I'm s--"

Donnie flicked him firmly on the forehead. "Don't."

"Hey!" Leo cried, rubbing at the spot.

"If you're gonna apologize, apologize for something that was actually your fault." The words were spoken with the tone of one who is used to speaking them. "And anyway, it was my choice."

"You wouldn't have needed to choose it if--"

"Nardo, oh my god, I will smack you." Donnie pulled back. "I am trying to empathize with you here, why are you making this so hard?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Leo mumbled.

Donnie sighed. "It's-- well, it's not fine, but. It's a topic for another time."

Leo nodded.

"As I was saying," Donnie continued, "It was not the most pleasant experience, going into it. And-- well, I didn't particularly enjoy the hasty removal, either.

"But... I didn't mind it, being in there. It's just... it made me realize how much I'm missing. How weak I am, with my shell." Donnie rubbed an absentminded hand over the strap of his battle shell. "Sometimes I'll wake up, and I'll..." His voice dipped into a whisper. "I'll miss it."

He paused as if waiting for Leo to react. Perhaps with disgust, or anger. Leo did neither, covering Donnie's hand on his shell with his own.

"I know it's not a perfect correlation, but. It makes me... feel. Emotions. Things I don't like." Donnie rummaged around in the kit for another piece of gauze. "And I just. It's. Ugh."

"'Ugh.'" Leo agreed. "That's a pretty good word for it."

Donnie scowled at him.

"I'm being serious!"

"Ok, enough being nice to you," Donnie announced. "I'm leaving. Suffer."

"But Dee," Leo whined, dragging out the 'e'. "You didn't finish wrapping my shell."

"Urgh, fine." Donnie rolled his eyes. Leo resisted a smile, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't have actually left.

They lapsed into silence again. Far above, Leo could hear the rain slowing, the downpour giving way.

Donnie finished wrapping his shell. He pulled back, considering. There was an edge of hesitation to his expression. Leo knew that look.

“What’re you—”

Donnie leaned down and pulled him into a hug.

Leo tensed for a moment, caught off guard.

Donnie was very particular about touch. He didn’t like casual touch, unless he was the one to initiate it. That, plus with the invasion, had made him even touchier about it than usual. Well, less touchier.

When was the last time they’d just. Hung out? Slung an arm over the others’s shoulder?

Leo closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. He melted into the embrace. God, he was tired.

Donnie pulled back. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, mouth hanging open as if he’d had something to say, but had forgotten it.

“You’re bandages are done,” he said finally.

Leo glanced down. “Oh. Thank you.”

Donnie nodded stiffly, and backed off. “We should turn the lights off before anybody else wakes up.”

Leo nodded in agreement. He was surprised Casey hadn’t woken yet. He made to stand, the full-body ache in his limbs intensifying. His feet landed in a puddle of water.

"Hold on, I have to clean the water off the floor," Leo said, reaching for a towel. Donnie intercepted him.

"I will clean it up," he contended. "It's time for you to get to bed."

"Don't act like your sleep schedule is any better than mine," Leo returned, but silently, he was grateful.

Donnie switched the lights off behind them and walked with Leo to his train car. It wasn't necessary by any means, but Leo didn't mind. The sick, weary feeling in his gut had been replaced by something warm and safe.

He paused at the steps to his train car, turning back. "I think I can go to bed by myself," he joked.

"After tonight, I truly doubt that," Donnie said drily, but Leo could hear a hint of fatigue in his voice. No doubt he was bone-tired.

Leo shuffled his feet. "Um, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up."

Donnie stared at him, letting the silence stagnate long enough for Leo to remember their earlier conversation.

"Please go to bed," he said finally, exasperated.

"If I must," Leo sighed, putting on an air of melodrama.

"You must," Donnie deadpanned. Leo stuck his tongue at him again.

With little fanfare, Donnie turned and began to walk away. Leo watched him go, mentally preparing himself for the strain of getting up the steps into his train car.

“Oh, hey, and Leo?” Donnie looked back.

Leo frowned in confusion. “What?”

Donnie smirked at him. “I changed my mind. I’m not cleaning the floor.”

Leo gasped, adopting a scandalized expression. “Liar! How could you?”

Donnie smiled evilly and disappeared up the steps into his train car.

Leo went to bed smiling.

In the morning, he checked the bathroom floor and found that it was clean.

[mad-hunts]

If you could pick just one superpower, what would it be and why?

barton cleared his throat as he was approached by a stranger whom, for some reason, appeared to be completely unidentifiable; what with their sunglasses and seemingly blank features. and for a moment, he was extremely confused, but then he remembered something that he'd learned from the mun — or autumn, as she preferred to be called and was a person who seemingly had a weird connection with him (i just had to do the fourth wall break like this y'all... sorry LOL)— that he would be approached by someone he could trust and who was curious about him. so he then set down the coffee mug he was holding, before he began responding to them, ❝ uhh, well, i actually haven't really thought about it that much before. i guess because i am honestly perfectly fine with being human? but if i were to pick one, i would want it to be useful. and preferably not boring after a few seconds like super speed. ❞ barton tilted his head as he might've or might've not made an underhanded comment directed at the flash.

he always thought that something like that always had too many disadvantages to it as well, personally, so that was another reason why he disliked it. a hum of contemplation was what ended up breaking the temporary silence that had ensued as he thought of his answer. it appeared he had something like an epiphany then, though, judging by the fact that he rose a finger towards the figure and uttered a soft ' oh, wait ' like he was having a revelation, ❝ okay... yeah, after a little bit of deliberation, i think i know which one i'd want to have now. teleportation. i mean, imagine how helpful that would be to have if you were me. a couple of idiot cops giving you trouble by holding you at gunpoint and so you need a quick out? you could just poof away, wherever you want to go. you discover in the middle of a date with a person that was supposed to be the next person on your chopping block that they are also a serial killer and were planning on killing you as well at the end of the night? ignoring how ultra-specific that scenario is, as it totally hasn't happened to me or anything, you can just simply disappear and avoid having an awkward knife fight with them. ❞

yeah, with how detailed that situation was and how barton seemed to almost be too eager to brush it off as not being legit, it absolutely had happened to him. a laugh came from him then as he moved on from the subject, ❝ so, anyways, like i was saying... a power like that could be pretty instrumental in helping me escape sticky situations. and so i'd want teleportation. there's your answer, anonymous. i also think that having a pocket dimension could be fun, but i have to say that this is ultimately what i'd wanna go with. it is practical and fun after all. ❞

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Just Desserts - Villainsona

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: Star Control II

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: The Sims 2 - SCII

Thursday:

2:30 PM: SCII

Friday:

2:30 PM: Handplates

Saturday:

2:30 PM: The Sims 2 - Handplates

Sunday:

2:30 PM: To the Moon - Rosawatts

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

[agonizedembrace]

randoms hcs about eve and feeding pwetty pwease? (target of choices, actual methods of consumption, how long until she gets hungy again, etc etc)

Some of these answers could very much be verse specific but --

I think no matter the verse, eve is always hungry. there is always a hunger for agony/pain, that'll never quite be fully quenched. some verses are worse than others in this regard; her default verse, blood moon and likely coven i'd say she feeds more freely -- seeking to fulfil that hunger as much as she possibly can. In modern/KDA she feeds less frequently, as both a promise to Ahri, and due to it simply being more difficult to so easily getting away with it.

Evelynn isn't entirely picky with her meals, but has shown to have some restraint (i.e her voice lines towards Amumu). She's also been known to have lines that states it's generally easier for her to make meals off the 'bigger and more stupid' ones (i.e in game: the muscular champs, in general ofc). Granted, this mostly goes for her base verse. KDA I like to hc that she often targets the rich bigots, but still will go after just about anyone if she desperately needs to feed.

She doesn't feed on the bodies -- maybe only if she's feeling truly cruel. The flesh does little to nothing for her, it is the emotions/agony prior to their death that's the true source of her food. It can also be considered like a power high for her, albeit briefly. And with all of this said, Evelynn doesn't gain anything from human foods -- if she indulges she's generally being polite to the other party.

KDA verse I'd say she feeds once a month usually, unless an occasion calls for her to have another meal. It is generally around that time she's pushing herself to a limit, where her magic begins to waiver and disguises can start to fail if she's not careful.

[linonyang]

drafting a drabble tonight for a bit 🥹 might post it tomorrow! i want to give my hc some spotlight before i post the occasional cute drabble i usually post haha

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[unmeiha-arc]

          ❝ Trust me, sweetheart, I’ll be here when the starlight fades, right alongside you. I’ll bring you back from anywhere; if you’ll do the same, there’s no end here. I’m not willing to lose you. I’m not willing to say goodbye.                         ― The Sweeplings,  ❛ Goodbye ❜

          How many, she wonders, how many times is it now? An injured Aymeric calls for his father in a futile attempt at diplomacy despite everything. She knows what comes of this conversation, of his idealism. She’s heard it before — over and over   ( and over and over and ... )   She knows what comes next, too. He will turn to her and, in a silent understanding of one another, he will lead the charge at her side to put an end to a thousand year war here and now. And then he will fall so that she might live.           Not this time, she tells herself. How many times has she said this? Have the number of loops come to rival the number of times she’s relived this moment in her dreams? Again and again she’s watched it, lived it. Again and again she’s failed. She can’t tell if she’s awake or dreaming anymore.           She steps forward without him; she knows he’ll follow.   ( When was the last time she looked at him directly? How many loops ago? )   Her hand tightens around Cronus’s hilt and she pulls it from her back.   ( Each time she comes back here it feels a little heavier. )   The heavy blade echoes when it hits the marble, as the steel scrapes over stone with every step she takes. She knows precisely where it happens, precisely how long it takes to get there. She knows Zephirin’s spear is already airborn before @ishguardians' warning rings out.           She pivots before she hears it connect with his shield,   ( faster, faster, faster, )   using all of her body weight and every ounce of strength she can muster to swing the greatsword in a wide arc.   ( Too soon and she misses, too late and she misses. How many times has she missed? )   Just as the aetherial spear makes contact with the shield, so too does Cronus connect with the spear. It’s not enough, she knows — she’s been here, too. The shield cracks and her leg sweeps out, hooking behind his to unsteady him.   ( If his spear must strike, let it miss its mark. )           He falls, like he always does, and she cannot bring herself to look.           As does she. Her own balance unstable, the stone sends tremors through her body as it connects with armored knees and she leans all her weight on the sword embedded in the stone to at least stay upright. She doesn’t bother looking up as the airship makes its departure — there’s no point. Her chest heaves from the exertion and she it’s all she can do to wait for the inevitable blackness that signals the end of a loop, that signals her failure to overtake her.

                                                          𓆩❀𓆪

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

Drabblecember 14: Sharing One's Sweater

I WILL finish drabblecember before the end of the month. Holiday crunch is pretty much over and we're back in action. We're making this happen!! Believe it!!!

Word Count: 600

Universe: Henry Danger

Piper had that kind of stare that could wither a person's confidence, you know, just totally decimate what a person's got going on, a real make a middle-aged adult wipe at his nose reflexively until he could steal away to a bathroom to check his teeth for food kind of stare. Emerson knew it well. It was one of his favorite things about her.

Almost as much as her acerbic conversation, but it seemed like Em would need to poke at it a little bit to get it to pop, like a... different metaphor. Scratch that. It was one of those things Em would have to feed into a little, to get anything to come out, you know, like a slot machine. Whatever.

“Hey, Piper,” Em said, indulgent.

“What,” she began, her voice dripping with… something, “is that.” Set 'em up, knock 'em down. Different metaphor.

He tapped the mug on the Hart's sidetable. “Hot chocolate?”

“Ew, you say hot choc– it's hot cocoa. What are you wearing?”

“Cocoa is a different thing. And, um, a sweater?” He lifted the mug to his lips. “Turtleneck thing. I dunno.”

Piper's eyes narrowed. “Henry's sweater.”

The cup made it just about halfway to Emerson's lips. “Is it?” he said, lightly, with a touch of a smile. A drop landed on his jeans, falling just shy of the sweater's woolen edge.

Honestly, they hadn't known– Emerson had picked it up off of the back of a chair in the Cave that morning, used the last of Ray's conditioner in the shower, and threw it on after the fact without a second thought. (Early morning, anyway. Early, early morning. The collar of the sweater and his hair both were long-dry now.)

Piper unceremoniously unzipped her winter coat and threw it open. “Early gifts from our Nanna. Literally wearing mine."

”Oh, hey, we're matchers." Em tapped the mug to his chin thoughtfully. ”Now, what are the odds of me and your Nanna frequenting the same storefronts?“

"None!" Piper stomped over to the sofa, her snow-soaked boots still on, and shoved her hand down the back of Emerson's collar. Ignoring his yelp, she yanked the tag out. "She embroidered the tags with our initials!"

"I'll take your word for it," Emerson half-mumbled, distracted mainly by the freezing temperature of Piper's hands, the remarkable volume of her voice, and the thrill of having narrowly not spilled his cocoa.

“Oh my god, you guys are disgusting.” she– disgust, that was it, dripping with disgust. "If you lied about being done with the whole couple thing, can you at least have the manners to do it where I can't see? And I promise, I'm not homophobic. But like, it's Henry."

"This is homophobic, Piper, but I love you for it." Emerson's mind would have been spinning a whole lot faster if he had just a few more hours of sleep under his belt. Such was the price of getting into the shower first, secretly, and without needing to answer too many questions. As it was, his brain was chugging through anything from the past half year that could give him any indicator of whether or not Piper was, so to speak, in on it all– second-guessing and double-checking and oops, now he'd been quiet too long.

He tugged on his collar and brought it up to his lips, more of a casually absent gesture than anything. ”Would it be more believable or less believable if I told you I stole it? From him?“

The look on Piper's face answered his question sufficiently. Incredibly expressive. Truly, it was a gift.

[hallowed-nebulae]

-tosses this at you then leaves-

[yndrgrl]

you + katsuki bakugo's relationship dynamic <3

fluff. cute lil drabble. established relationship. ooc! bakugo. any au you want ig haha. gn! reader.

warnings: innuendos but nothing crazy

a/n: another drabble before i drop a long, hardcore mafia boss! dabi x spy! reader smut 👀

-

before bakugo found you, his friends pictured him dating someone dainty, soft-spoken, & just all around quiet. however, when you came into the picture, your dynamic just made so much sense.

the two of you clicked & meshed so well together. you were outgoing, kind yet snappy, & you were just glowing whenever you were with katsuki.

your friends were worried when you first got with katsuki, knowing you. you were the type to take no bullshit from anyone, not afraid of conflict, & you were just so headstrong.

what shocked everyone the most is how katsuki change when with you. we all know katsuki; if you look at the guy wrong, he'd punch the look off your face before you could even blink. he was always yelling profanity at someone with a seemingly permanent scowl on his face. the nicknames he gave people were less than savory.

but with you? you could say whatever you wanted, you could act like a princess brat & he would just dote on you. it was your way, or the highway. katsuki would go to the ends of the universe for you-- even if you just wanted a cup of tea. no mean names for you (unless under the shirts), you were his darling, his love. how could he not worship you? you're just so perfect.

he's just so happy to be in your presence, it was as clear as day. he would never say it out loud (unless you batted your pretty eyes at him, of course), but he just relished in your beauty.

loving katsuki is the easiest you've ever gotten the pleasure to experience. people say that he would start fights then never back down. it was quite the opposite, though. he would tease you because you were just so cute all huffy & puffy, but once you started to get actually upset, he would immediately deescalate the situation. profuse apologizes would flow out of his mouth, butterfly kisses up your arm, & if you were truly mad, he would look so hurt.

your fights were rare & far in between. honestly, there wasn't much to fight about because he would avoid them like the plague. you didn't like when he did something? he literally unlearns it on the spot. you didn't like he wasn't doing something? he would immediately jump into action, mentally burning it into his brain.

he didn't want to lose you. you were an angel amongst a dirty sea of sinners, & he was your ever-so-willing worshipper.

he loves that he gets the privilege of seeing your sweet side. you give the world your rough exterior with glimpses into your true self. however, when with him, you can let go of the facade. there was a never ending flow of compliments coming out of his mouth.

"darlin', you're just too sweet for me." "god, i can't believe i'm the lucky one who gets to praise you." "(y/n), you're just so mmm."

life with him got comfortable, never boring. you had your routines. on monday, you'd call at 9 p.m. until midnight. on fridays, you'd get off of work at 6 p.m., & he'd already be outside of your house, waiting to pick you up for a date.

"oh, how i adore you, (y/n)."

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!