#this doesn't even show up in the tags it seems so rip

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 6!!!

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[honestsycrets]

Hey! if your requests are open can you do a drabble where the spider society meets Miguel's and readers baby for the first time? like they show up with her one day where the sitter couldn't make it or something and it's so wild to see Miguel be so soft with her

❛ summary | Miguel doesn't feel secure letting anyone watch his daughter-- not even Peter. or, gwen tries to hold miguel's daughter for the first time.

❛ sy's notes | slightly different than the request above but still in the same vein.

❛ tags | reader and child from starved, family piece, some angst, some sweetness, reference to loss of child, mention of pregnancy.

He just had to do it. 

Despite the fact that Miguel knew everything about his body being amped up, he missed how it felt. In his rush to have sex, he didn’t consider the possibility that you could have been ovulating. That the temporary amenorrhea wouldn’t last. It was his miscalculation. A miscalculation resulted in Mireya’s presence in his lab, chewing on his knuckle as some poor substitute for a teething toy. 

“Ay chingado, where is that pinche--” he huffed under his breath, rummaging around his cluttered desk for the damn toy. Mireya pinched down on his finger again with those bright brown eyes, twinkling with mischievous curiosity for why her papi was cussing again. His claw popped forth, drawing a fantastic giggle careening from her lips. Miguel retracted them again, shaking his hand out at his side. “Are those fangs or teeth in there, mija, hm?” 

“That’s cute.” 

In his preoccupation with his daughter, he hadn’t necessarily heard the pitter-patter of feet behind him. Despite what everyone might think, Miguel doesn’t like visitors in his lab. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, realizing that it was Gwen in the lab. Great, he expelled a great puff of air. Wherever Gwen was, Jess or Peter never seemed to be too far behind. 

“What is?” 

“Mireya,” she bounced forward, hands behind her back, inspecting Mireya with a twinge of a smile. It grew on her lips, just a little. She flicked her index finger, making a point that he really didn’t feel like hearing. “And you too. I mean, even if you cuss a little at her. You’re so soft with her.”

“Enjoy the sight while it lasts.” Miguel bit out, drawing into a little sigh as he cradles his daughter close. “But I’m not cussing at her, I’m looking for her teething chew-- which is not my finger, Mireya.”

She bites down on his palm. Miguel’s face screws up in annoyance, rather than pain, settling a small kiss on the top of her head. Her soft baby curls tickle his lips. He turns back to his panels, inspecting the anomaly he had been tracking all afternoon. She bites him again.

“Wherever that thing went, carajo! Lyla, ¿dónde está?!” He forgot that his daughter had a low tolerance for his outbursts. Unlike Gwen, Peter, or even you, Miguel was usually well aware of his rising volume. Gwen held up her palms.

“No, mi vida, no, I’m sorry,” Mireya’s lower lip quivered, revving up in another sharp cry that Miguel hardly had the patience for. Her cry burst free, causing Miguel to tear away from Gwen, sliding Mireya onto his broad shoulder. He pats her back gently. “Is there a reason you’re here?” 

“Your wife sent me to help you. I’d… I’d really like to hold her. I mean. If you’re willing.” 

"¿Qué?" Miguel hissed, hiding the flash of displeasure that ripped across his face. Of course, you sent a teenage kid to come take a daughter from him! Why wouldn’t you? No way in hell— he took a step away, the sharpest way he could say no. Almost a year old and still Gwen had not held her. 

“She shouldn’t have. I don’t need help.”  

“She said you’d say that,” Gwen tippy-toed up to Miguel’s shoulder, peeping at Mireya’s big brown eyes. She screwed them shut, burning through another red-hot wail of pain. If Gwen didn't leave him alone--

“What exactly did she say?”

“Mireya’s teething and Miguel has a bad temper.” 

A bad temper, she said. Miguel scrunched up his nose. 

“Tch. Of course, I never would have guessed.” 

He heard another set of feet. Two, actually. He expected to see Peter’s too-happy smile beaming at him like an aggravating ray of morning light. He didn’t, however, expect your eyes to stare right back at him. Your voice cut right through Mireya’s inconsolable cries. 

“Miggy, are you giving Gwen a hard time?” 

He chewed on his words, using his foot to roll his chair out from his desk. You hopped onto the platform with Peter’s aid, a task on its own with your swollen belly behind a deep blue gown. Mireya’s sharp cries fizzled out into little chirps, somehow pleased with your presence. Miguel, however, was not. 

“There’s my girl!” Peter slapped his hands together, rushing forward when you were secure on the platform. Peter couldn’t help himself, even amid a fight. She bounced on Miguel’s shoulder, palms extended, squeezing and releasing. Why did she have to love Peter? “Hi, Mireya!” 

“No. You should be resting,” Miguel pointed toward his chair. You didn’t fight him on it, sliding into it with your hand under your belly to support the child that brewed in your stomach. He couldn’t help but feel a string of guilt for the exhaustion that was so easily apparent on your face. It’s why he took her-- in the hope that you would sleep. 

“I would if I knew you would take the help.” 

Peter swerved around Gwen, peering over Miguel’s shoulder at her squishy little body in double the glee the little girl looked at him with.

“I don’t need help.” 

“Lyla says you do,” you tilted back in the chair, folding your arms just under your swollen chest. Miguel threw another curse under his breath. The AI who mysteriously was not listening to any of his commands. “And if Lyla says you do, then you do.” 

He could have fought you but as fate would have it, you were close to pushing out another child of his. He glared at the glittering stone of your ring on your finger and relented, his head bobbing into a complacent nod. As per usual, you won.

“Fine, por hoy,” he said with a heavy breath, turning over to face Gwen. She cracked a nervous smile as he leaned in, settling Mireya in her arms. Gwen’s big eyes snapped down to the little girl, insecurity trickling from her person. Miguel picked up on it like blood pouring into a cup of water. “If you hurt her, I’ll—“

“Miguel, no threats.”

He cursed. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Peter ran his hands together, swiping up the chew toy that Miguel had been looking for. He obnoxiously slid Mireya out of Gwen’s arms,  the only person that Miguel would allow his daughter to be held by without standing threats. “Come to Uncle Peter! We can go get ice cream with Hobie and Pavitr, just you and me and Gwen!"

Hobie and Pavitr? He never--

“Tio Peter,” Gwen corrected, stroking her upper arm nervously. 

“Tio Peter."

Miguel couldn’t help but watch the pair slip away-- talking about things like ice cream for toothaches, park dates, and fun as they slipped into a portal. You caught Miguel’s hand, stopping him from jerking to snatch her back up. 

“She’s safe with them,” It itched-- it itched all over. The terrible feeling that no, his Mireya was not safe with Peter, or Gwen, or Jess, or anyone else that wasn’t him. If even him. You stood up. “Miguel, Miguel no--” 

He snapped to the monitor, drawing forth Gwen and Peter, his hand at his lip. Your stomach pressed into his back. His third-- no second-- child. His hand fell to your arms that intertwined around his muscular midsection. “She’s almost one. We talked about this. You said Peter was the only one you’d trust to watch her.” 

“Almost one,” he laughed it off, his hand falling away from his lips. “She could be forty and I would still worry.”

“You don’t trust Peter?” 

“I don’t even trust myself.”  He threw you back a glance, an undercurrent of sadness flowed through the words.

“I do, mi amorcito,” You held him a little tighter, finding the words came as easily as the movements of the child in your belly against his back. Miguel bit back a small smile at the feeling, following Peter and Gwen choosing ice cream for his little girl. The door jingled with a bell-- Hobie and Pavitr strode in, because of course they did, it couldn't just be a quiet outing. Who was next? Miles? “And I trust Peter too.”

“I know you do.”

Vanilla? Cotton candy? Not the cotton candy. If they only knew. It’s strawberry. Mireya’s favorite is strawberry. Gabriella’s was vanilla. His shoulders relaxed, watching Peter present a small sample of strawberry to his little princesa. 

“Bueno,” he slid his hand on top of yours. “I could… go for an empanada. ¿Quieres ir conmigo?”

“Sí,” you beamed. “Let's go. Just you and me.”

It’s a strange feeling— being without his little girl. At least for today, he’s certain she’ll be okay. 

[lehguru]

MUSCLE MUSCLE! + ONE PIECE MEN

one piece men having a muscular fem!s/o feat. monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, trafalgar d. water law, sanji, donquixote rosinante, buggy the clown

info: again FEM!READER , this is so self indulgent its embarrassing; not proofread

luffy wouldn't mind you having muscles. he thinks that's something normal – just like some women can be skinny or chubby, others can be muscular. he would love to compare his biceps to yours if you love to flex, he takes it as a fun playful thing. he would adore to train with you, it gives him a big motivation; not only because it's someone as strong as him training, but also because he would adore to share earbuds with you and do silly dances to make you laugh between your sets.

zoro thinks the way you managed to build up your muscles is amazing. he often talks to you about your training techniques and diet; you're also one of the few – three – people he invites to workout with him. if you spot him during bench presses, he always puts a higher weight than he would while alone – that's his way to show that he trusts you and your strength. he will often stare at your body at the gym, but it's never in a creepy way, he just wants to make sure you're okay while doing your exercises (and he secretly enjoys to see your muscles working).

law is constantly wanting to rip his hair off with worry for you. he thinks your psyche is nice and he have no problem with it, his fears lie on your diet and your bones/joints. he fears that you might get an injury and you're not keeping a healthy fat percentage; even if you reassure him and say everything is fine, he always show up with food at your place. if he's not in that worried state, he loves to feel your muscles while you hug him (he has a skinnier build, so he enjoys the contrast). his favorite thing ever is to feel your arms around his head while he lays on your stomach.

sanji would love your body no matter what, but there's something about you being able to lift him up – and even throw him around if you want to – that drives him insane. if you post a picture with any of your muscles flexed, you will get a dozen of comments from him. if you take him to the gym to train with you, he will praise you and won't even train so he can "appreciate and help a goddess like you". he begged you for a long time to give him a headlock so he could take a picture and make it his profile picture in every single social media he have (and the background on his phone).

corazón always get shy whenever he looks at any of your muscles – you often notice it, because his cheeks become a nice shade of pink. at first you thought he didn't like you being muscular, but quite the opposite. unlike his brother, he doesn't build up muscles that easily (they have the same genetics, but he always says he was born to be the skinny brother), so you, the love of his life, being muscular? he is over the moon. if he gets your consent to do it, his hands will be all over you. if you need a massage, he's there. if it's just resting on your thigh or your back during a cuddle session, he's happy. he loves your muscles a lot, not more than he loves you.

buggy thinks you're one of the coolest people because of your muscles. he always wanted to be bigger and scarier, but his muscles always seemed to grow on his legs and stomach only, so if you are well-balanced on all your body, he is smitten. he loves to lay on any part of your body, giggling to himself if he thinks about doing that when you two are apart. he is constantly praising you, but, unlike sanji, they come in a more "if you were the queen, i wouldn't mind being the jester" way. he wouldn't mind tagging along with you to the gym, but he would spend more time glaring at any other men that looks your way than actually training.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[sukimii]

Clingy

Tags: fuff, slight angst, foul language, touch-starved!Reader

Notes: Before reading any of my fics please read this first, thank you.

"Do you even love me?"

"Yes" your answer is immediate, with no hesitation. Of course, you love him, if you could write it in the sky you would. Yet now, the man you love is angry at you, with a mix of disappointment while you're on the verge of crying.

"Then why the fuck aren't you initiating shit?"

You know you should say something. You know you should open up and explain your behavior, but it's easier said than done. Because in the past, whenever you opened up no one listened. They either pretended not to hear or changed the topic of conversation. So you settled on pretending.

Over the years you became good at faking your moods and smiles. It came naturally for you to plaster a smile on your face and make it believable. You became good at pretending you were fine, when in fact you wanted nothing more than to have someone to listen. But no one ever did. No one cared enough to listen to the end, because as long as it doesn't concern them your insecurities are irrelevant.

"If I don't text you, you don't. If I don't call you, you don't. If I don't kiss you, you don't. Why the fuck are we in a relationship then?" The anger in his voice is deafening. It makes you want to crawl on yourself, wishing to disappear. You can feel his resentment in your bones. You know you should speak up, but your voice seems to be stuck in your throat.

"I didn't call you for three fucking days to see if you would. And guess what? You didn't!" Bakugou's eyes narrow on you, waiting for an answer that he will probably never get. "Why the fuck aren't you speaking?! Do you even give a shit about me? About our relationship?"

"I-I do care"

"Fucking bullshit." He scoffs, one hand dragging along the roots of his hair while the other one curled into a fist. "If you cared you would've reached for me. If you cared you would show it through your actions. If you cared-"

You can't listen to all your flaws.

He's listing the very same things people in your past had complained about. The sad part is that you already know the endgame, which only worsens the angst creeping up your back.

Bakugou is the only person you managed to fall in love with. He's the only one that makes you feel important, the only one that always waits for you. He is the first one that makes your heart beat so loud to the point of tuning out the world. He is the only one that keeps you on your toes. The only one that can awaken emotions buried in the depths of your heart and soul.

But now, having him complain about you was destroying your already fragile heart. All the wounds that you managed to somehow patch over the years are now ripped open again. It hurts. His words are like stabs, and you don't have the strength to listen. Because the man you love isn't willing to wait anymore.

You should've seen this coming. It was bound to happen. But your childish self, that small part of you that believes in hope, thought he was going to be the exception. You feel betrayed, by yourself. And you snap.

"BECAUSE YOU WILL HATE IT!"

Your breathing is heavy and ragged, tears already spilling down your cheeks while Bakugou is stunned to silence, watching you with both his eyebrows raised. Then he frowns.

"Why would I hate it?"

"Because everyone does, sooner or later." You can feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, and you sniff, using the abused napkin in your hand to wipe it. "You say now that you want me to do all those things, but as soon as I do you will get sick of me. So-" you choke back another sob, gathering your phone and bag. "It's best if we break up. Sorry for wasting your time" and with those final words, you get up from the table, intent on leaving his house.

It's always like this.

In every relationship that you had, it always ended up with them complaining about you. Something, at the end of the day, made you unable to satisfy them properly. There's always something wrong with you. You. You're your own reason why no one can ever stand you. Right now, all you want to do is get back to your house and cry out all your frustrations. But before you reach the handle, something tugs your other wrist, spinning you around into a hard chest.

"You're not going away, not when you're opening up. Fucking finally" Bakugou drags you back to the living room, this time on the couch. All your protests fall on deaf ears, even the attempts of pushing him away are an utter failure.

"Sit your ass down and start chirpin'."

To Bakugou it's clear that there is a problem, which might run deeper than he originally expected. So he waits for you to speak up.

Yet again, you seem to lose your voice, uncomfortable under his stare, and you look anywhere but at him.

After several beats of silence - disrupted by your sniffs in a poor attempt to not cry- Bakugou sighs. "If we- if you don't speak up, I don't know how to help you. I already have a feeling of what the problem might be, but I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you."

You mull a little over his words, weighing down your options. The past experiences with childhood friends, exes, and family members, taught you to never expect anything from anyone. Sometimes people pretend to listen because their goal is to seem nice, but once they realize that the problem is nothing interesting, they drop the subject. And as much as you love Bakugou, you don't believe he'll be any different.

"There's nothing too important. It's exactly what I said it is. You think I don't want to hold your hand? You think I don't want to wrap my whole body on you like a koala all day? I crave physical touch, I crave it so bad, but I can't. I can't" as you keep spilling out your frustrations, your voice grows bitter and resentful. "Because you enjoy it in the beginning, but then you'll get sick of it and call me clingy, just like everyone else did! I know that after, you'll tell me to 'get a life', to 'go bother someone else' and I don't want it to happen again! Because I'll be the one getting heartbroken while you all keep surfing life as if you didn't stump on my stupid, useless feelings! You're no different from the others, once you get what you want then I hold no value in your eyes. Just another bitch to add to the fuck list no-" Bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, and you finally look at him.

He looks… sad. His eyes are soft, mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks at you with what you could describe as pity. But in reality, you couldn't be any farther from the truth, because Bakugou isn't pitying you. No. He understands you.

"We already fucked, two months ago. And I'm still here, aren't I?" His voice is gentle, probably the softest you've ever heard him. As if trying to soothe a wounded animal. It's endearing.

Blinking the heavy veil of unshed tears away, you give him a couple of nods.

"Do you really think I would do something like that to you? Do you think I would say to anybody that I love them?" his palm slides down your neck until it rests comfortably at the back of your head. With breath stuck in your lungs, you offer him a soft shake of your head, no. You don't think Bakugou is that type, but you never know.

"Do you have any idea of how much I want you to do all those things? Fuck- be a fucking leech for all I care, just-!" His forehead lightly bumps into yours, the tip of the nose rubbing a couple of times against yours. His eyes are transfixed into yours, and you can feel goosebumps raise on your whole body at the intensity of his stare.

"I don't care if I'm in an uncomfortable position. I don't care if you're all sweaty from working out or if I'm barely standing because of a rough day. I want you to do anything you want. You want to spoon me? Do it. You want to hold my hand in public? Do it. You want hugs when I'm busy? Do it. Fuckin' do it. I don't care. Fuck- I could be in the middle of an important call and I still wouldn't refuse your attention!" His head dips into the crook of your shoulder while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't care what shit-stain you dated before me, all I care about is for you to be comfortable with me. Do you understand?" His arms are circling your back, holding you tight, but not enough to cut the breath out of you. You sniff, suppressing another sob that threatens to come out.

"Y-yes"

"Then hug me" He gives you a squeeze, voice barely above a whisper. "Please"

You know that this doesn't count as a potential improvement since, again, Bakugou is the one that initiated the physical contact. But you oblige, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For several minutes, you bask in the silence, enjoying the comfort and warmth. Until Bakugou speaks again, voice partially muffled by your clothes.

"I noticed how different you are with that weir- Hatsume."

"She-" you clear your throat, trying to get rid of the ragged tone "she never pushed me away. Probably the only one that never did." you don't want to relieve the past, but with Bakugou seems right. Up until now, he showed nothing but understanding.

"There were times when I would visit her back when she was in UA. She didn't mind when I would sleep on her while she worked on her babies. One day I remember falling asleep on her back, and she didn't complain. She- she was the only one that never called me a bother."

"You didn't do anything too scared I would…" he trails, lifting a little his head just enough to see your eyes.

"Call me clingy." You finish for him. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer.

"Even my parents pushed me away. I used to seek physical attention all the time. If it were possible, I would stay with you like this all day, but I know it's impossible. And I don't want you to think that I-… I don't want to be a burden. An inconvenience. I don't want you to hate me because of that. So I give you space. I let you initiate everything on your own terms because I'm scared of being annoying."

Bakugou listens. He knows that if he speaks you might try to make the conversation take a detour. So he waits for you to continue.

"I used to like sleepovers. I used to beg my parents to let me sleep at a friend's house. But then they told me no because I would be a bother, and that people are too nice to tell me that. Even holding hands was something I enjoyed, until someone slapped my hand away."

That detail doesn't sit right with Bakugou, and whoever slapped your hand was already on his piss-the-fuck-off list.

"Is this why you keep refusing to stay the night?" When you nod, Bakugou feels like the heaviest stone has just been lifted from his chest. When he slept with you for the first time, he asked you to stay over. It was late, and dark outside, and letting you wander the streets where danger lurked wasn't something he was keen on. Plus, it would give him more time to spend with you. But when you got up and dressed, turning down his offer saying that you were busy the next day, he walked you home.

The second time, again, you shut him down. He tried to be understanding. At the time, he couldn't understand why you refused to crash at his place when he did overstay at yours. At first, he thought you didn't like his apartment, or that you didn't feel comfortable enough. So, he bought a couple of plants, hoping that it will ease you, and stuffed his bathroom with products he saw at yours. He made sure to put hairclips and hair ties near the sink, in a pink-stained glass bowl. And different types of pads were stashed in the first drawer, just in case. He also added some décor, similar to your aesthetic, but even that didn't work. Despite your compliments, saying that you loved the changes he made, it still wasn't enough to make you stay.

Another time he tried again was three weeks ago. He tried his hardest to fuck you stupid, he hoped that six hours of constant sex will tire you out enough that you will cave, and finally spend the night at his. He tried different positions that he knew would strain your legs. Positions that will weaken your body, and time for you to recover were minimal. If he was generous, only a minute before he went at it again. Despite all his efforts, you still went home. Bruised, body screaming in pain at the effort, and on the verge of passing out, you asked him to take you home. And Bakugou, at that point, began to think that maybe you didn't love him.

He became self-conscious. Because why else wouldn't you want to spend more time with him? Why would you only have sex and then drop out as soon as you felt like sleeping?

Yet that theory wasn't exactly making sense, because the very next day you asked him to stay over at yours.

But now, Bakugou understands. He now knows what the problem is, and he has to admit that you told him way more than he originally expected. He's glad you did so, it's a step in the right direction, and he believes that improvements will happen soon.

One hand moves on the back of your head, cradling you closer while his lips ghost the skin right below your ear.

"Let's take baby steps" he murmurs, leaving a feathery kiss on the side of your neck. Your arms hook around his shoulders, leaning into him.

"Stay tonight" He feels your body tense up, and before you can utter a word -already knowing what you were going to say, he squeezes you, silently adding the 'please' that was lingering on the tip of his tongue.

When he feels your body relax in his hold, and a soft 'ok' leaves your lips, Bakugou allows himself to smile, happy with the outcome.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

Fan Mail

June Prompt: Song By Blondie | Word Count: 876 | Rating: T | Characters: Steve, Robin, Eddie | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Canon Divergence, No Upside Down, Steve "I'm a Big Fan" Harrington, Platonic Stobin

For a song by Blondie, I picked Fan Mail.

The crumpled ball of paper hits the wall, banking off and falling straight into the trash can. At least his aim is good, even if his writing isn't. Steve looks up at the poster over his desk, and sighs. He's fucking pathetic. Seriously, is his plan really that he's gonna write Eddie "The Freak" Munson with some, what, fan mail? Yeah, that's a great fucking plan. 

Hi, remember me? We went to high school together. I was a bit of a dick, but I'm hoping you've forgotten that. You're pretty hot up on that stage. Call me.

Yeah, right. 

He's definitely aborting this mission. It was a stupid idea, anyway.

A few weeks later, Steve pulls a stack of letters out of the mailbox. Bill, bill, junk, junk, bill…and then his stomach drops with dread. A red envelope, with the Corroded Coffin logo drawn in the corner, where the return address should be.

What the fuck? No, seriously, what the fuck?

Steve takes it to the kitchen counter and sits it down, filled with dread. He didn't lose his mind and actually mail one of those goddamn letters, right? Surely he'd remember doing something as unhinged as that. 

He wants to open it, but he also really doesn't want to know what's inside.

So, it sits. For an hour, a day, a week.

It sits until Robin swings by one day, and picks it up like the Nosey Nellie she is, "What's this, dingus?"

Steve reaches for it, trying to grab it from her grubby little hands, "Nothing!"

"It doesn't sound like it's nothing," she crows, and holds it behind her back. 

"Robin, give it to me," he warns, low and pissy. If he opens it, it's gonna be on his own terms. And that's a big if. As long as he leaves it alone, he'll never have to know what's inside. Good, bad or ugly.

"Why haven't you opened it? Maybe it's important," she says, "maybe it's from Eddie."

And he knows. He suddenly knows exactly what's happened here, and he's gonna kill her.

"What the fuck did you do?" he asks, eyes narrowed.

"What you were too chickenshit to," she says, and she presses the envelope to his chest.

"Goddamnit, Robin," Steve says, feeling embarrassed and sick, "they weren't, I wasn't, ready."

Robin's eyes soften, "I know you, Steve. You'd never be ready."

She's not wrong, she's not, but still. She shouldn't have done this to him. It could be classified as a hate crime, he's pretty sure. And maybe even tampering with the U.S. mail. That's a federal offense. He could have her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

"Quit daydreaming about my demise, and just open it. Then you can kill me if you need to," she says, and he nods, sliding onto the stool at the counter. 

He slides his thumb under the flap of the envelope and tugs, ripping it open, pulling out the letter. When he unfolds it, two tickets fall onto the counter and Robin reaches for them, and he just lets her. 

And he reads. 

It's short, and funny, and not as embarrassing as he'd feared. Eddie seems happy to have heard from him, and the two tickets are an invitation. It seems casual, but Steve knows better.

Holy shit.

He's actually made a fucking pass at Eddie Munson, and he seems to have made one back? What is happening right now? For real. 

"Well?" Robin asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet, impatient. 

"He invited me, us, to their show in Indy next month."

"See? I told you it'd be fine, dingus," she says, and he nods.

He spins on his chair, to face her full-on, "What version did you send?"

Steve suddenly needs to know how embarrassed he needs to be right now.

"The least stalkerish one, I swear," she says, "and I included a note from me, so he'd know, you weren't exactly aware it was being mailed."

That's probably more embarrassing, he thinks. Like he was just sitting there, pining, like a fool, and his best friend had to intervene.

Eddie must think he's the fucking freak, now. 

The tickets are good. Really good, Steve has suddenly realized, as they stand right next to the stage. They aren't front and center, more off to the side, but still. Right there. Front row. Where Eddie will definitely be able to see them, and know they came, if he just looks down.

And he does. 

As soon as he hits the stage, he comes right to their side, squats down, and reaches out to hand Steve something. Steve's frozen, eyes locked on Eddie's, so it's Robin's hand that reaches out and takes the folded up piece of paper he's offering.

Once Eddie's gone from in front of them, taking his spot center stage and getting the show started, Robin is unfolding the piece of paper. 

Steve leans over her shoulder, and it's dark. Nearly too dark to read, but it's fan mail. Right back. Talking about how he'd always liked looking at him, too, back in high school.

That he'd like to look at him a little bit more after the show tonight, if Steve is interested.

Oh.

Steve is definitely interested.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

[catsfor2]

hit me, part 3

wc: 2k, unedited warnings: swearing, injury tags:@pampeop@evangelinejxy@itwasnight@@elliewilliamsmunch@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husband@3zae-zae3@milahnoz@elliescumm@dragonasflowercrown@starpix@nopealoupe@annamommyy@muthafuckingstargirl a/n: i rly wanted this to be so much longer but i think im a little burnt out rn im sorry guys! either way i hope u enjoy this part, its still fun i think!!

-j

part 1

part 1.5

part 2

part 2.5

"Are you—un-fucking-believable," Ellie spits, hand raking through her hair and chucking her phone to the floor. "They're taking my fucking money. My fucking money."

"What? What's happening?" you ask, now watching from your bed as she paces back an forth across your rug.

"They're lowering my fucking cut. Fucking—Jesus, these fucking dicks. I don't know what to do." she says, bending down to pick her phone back up.

"Why would they do that? Is there a...reason, at least?"

"I—shit, probably? They didn't say exactly. Just said it was a 'reputation issue'. Whatever that fucking means." Ellie sighs. She sits back down on the bed. She then speaks again, but quieter.

"They're just mad I don't wanna be their fuckin' show monkey. I shut that bullshit down right away."

"...What do you mean?" you ask.

"They wanted to...basically brand me as the 'club dyke'. Wanted the announcer to say like, all this weird shit when I got up to the ring. Wanted to name a fuckin' drink after me. It was called, like, 'Lady Lover's Special' or something fuckin' stupid like that. I told em' no."

"Oh—well I'm glad you said no. That's...fucked up, of them." you tell her, eyes focused on hers.

"I know. But I—" her phone pings, and she must know just by the sound who it is, as she picks it up to check the message immediately.

Her face pinches, eyes darting across the screen as she reads.

"They're saying—they're saying if I do this fight...tonight, then they...won't lower it. Huh." She finishes, eyes scanning the words a couple more times.

"That seems...manipulative. I feel like they just wanted you to do this fight the whole time." you say skeptically.

"Yeah, obviously. They're fucking snakes. Stupid ones, though." She says, bouncing up off your bed and pulling her coat around herself. "I'm gonna do the fight."

"What—seriously? They basically forced you!" you argue, reaching upwards and pulling back on her sleeve.

She exhales a long breath, before taking your hand and placing it back on the bed. Her face moves close to yours, gently and kindly.

"I need the money, ok? And—" she pauses, eyes lighting up like she just remembered something. Her lips break into a subtle smile. "you'll be there, won't you? I'm in good hands."

You turn your head, cheeks heating, and try to remain impartial.

"Ellie, you don't even...know who you're fighting. That by itself is a—a monumental-sized risk."

"It doesn't matter who I'm fighting, princess." She assures, both hands now cradling at the base of your neck. Her voice gets low and calm next to your ear.

"I'm fuckin' undefeated. It's gonna stay that way."

---------------------------------------------

Seeing Ellie fight was...intense. Her body is wicked, a cord of muscle that rips through the ring. She's springy. A curated whip of strength, and far more resilient than you thought would be humanly possible. It was difficult to follow her movements, her jabs, cuts, kicks, and everything else, as they were done with impeccable speed.

And yet, through the chaos of this combat, you remember distinctly how her eyes would meet yours, finding you amidst the crowd. Talking to you wordlessly. Reassuring you. Before she'd enter the fight once again, deftly averting her gaze from yours and body thrusting itself strategically into battle. She was a predator, simply put. And you saw the brutal effects of it once the fight was over.

-----------------------------------------------

"I'm still—fuck—still—ow, fuck—"

"Ellie. Stop moving." you chide, hands having to maneuver her head straight again.

"Undef—I'm undefeated. Number one. I'm—mmph—number one. I'm still one." she hazily mutters, head lolling to one side.

"Shut up! I can't do this when you keep talking!" you exclaim, hands frantically dressing the wound across her cheek.

Her body keeps moving, jerking, pushing, and you physically just aren't strong enough to counter it. Her hands have found their place on your shoulders, clutching them as her own stability varies wildly.

"They said...they were gonna—ow, ow! fuck—they were—they couldn't even—" she rambles, fingers tightening their grip.

"Ellie. Stay still. And calm down." you bark, hips inching closer between her thighs. She's sat atop the dingy counter of the club bathroom, while you stand tucked under her figure.

A warm, bellied laugh escapes her before she plops her head into your neck without warning.

"Mmmm okay, princess. I'll be—I'm—I'm still. I'm still. M'sorry doc." She whispers, breath fanning your skin lightly.

"No, no, no, pick your head up. You have to stay awake."

"But I'm—I'm tired. And—" she drags her nose a bit, trailing bits of blood and sweat. "you smell so good here." she murmurs fuzzily, hands slowly traveling down towards your waist.

You quickly wipe your neck with the back of your hand, pushing Ellie's head back upright.

"I'm gonna try and do this as fast as I can, okay?" you say, starting to fumble with the packaging of your needle. Ellie's hands were still groping around the back of your body through your clothes.

"You were—you wore this. At Dina's party," she breathes, not even noticing your hands preparing the suture. Her eyes are unabashedly gazing at your chest. "that was a goooood party." she adds, smiling to herself.

Your skin burns, and you feel your eyes desperately avoiding hers.

Your focus moves back to her forehead, where your hands have moved to hover steadily over her wound.

"This is gonna hurt Ellie. But you can't move." you say quietly, waiting for her response.

She closes her eyes, just taking in shaky breaths for few moments.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus do it already."

With that, you start to stitch up her cut, fingers nimble and tedious.

She groans at the pain, hands fisting in the fabric of your clothes, and legs jerking inwards. You let her, simply continuing your motions as her body reacts.

"Ow—Christ, princess, that fucking—fuck!"

"I know, I know. I'm almost done. Like, two more stitches." you rush, eyes starting to water and wrists starting cramp. Ellie only huffs a sigh, forehead slippery from sweat.

Your mouth parts open as you delicately tie off your last suture, hands now clammy and sore. You step back to look at your work, honestly not caring if it was mediocre. It was still better than anything Ellie would've tried to do by herself.

"Ok! Ok! All done!" You breathe, placing a square of gauze on her temple.

"Oh—thank you. Thank you princess. I'm—you're...you're really good." she drawls out, eyes heavy and dazed.

She abruptly slumps forward a bit, leaning all of her weight onto you and wrapping the whole of her arms around your waist. She squeezes even harder, a level of strength almost abnormal considering how beat up she is.

Oh, you think. She's hugging me.

You can't help but lightly giggle, seeing Ellie in such a strange state of mind. Her ego shines through, of course, but there's a vulnerability that makes you feel even warmer. You start to feel the vibrations of her throat as she speaks.

"I think I—I think I fight better...with you here." she says softly, fingertips pressed into the small of your back.

"Yeah?" you laugh. "I don't know about that..."

"You're the only one who's—who's actually wanted to see me. I know about that." she retorts, hot breaths coming briskly at your neck.

"But I thought like—Dina and everyone, they know, don't they?"

"Mhmm. They know. But they don't come here. Not—not like you did." she says lowly.

You move back, a little too warm, and try to look Ellie in the eyes.

"I...didn't know that. I'm glad I was here though." you say, a small smile shaping your lips.

"Yeah, I mean—me too, obviously. I can—man, I can always count on you. I can't believe I fuckin'...forgot about that." she mumbles, grin slowly widening.

Your eyes open larger, and you freeze a touch, her words recalling a part of your friendship you didn't know she had noticed.

In highschool, all you'd ever wanted to do was make Ellie like you. You'd let her rant all her fiery anger over a fight with Cat, remaining polite and helpful and understanding. You'd listen to the songs she'd listen to, hate the ones she didn't. She'd tell you her theories about the stars, and you'd let it change the way you see the sky at night. You were a lost puppy, unintentionally giving Ellie your leash. You didn't realize any of it until years later.

"I was..." you look around, searching for the right words. "I was kind of obsessed. In highschool."

She looks up, eyebrows pinching.

"With me?"

"I—yes? You couldn't tell?"

She scoffs, face dramatically contorting in shock.

"Fuck—no, I couldn't. You were always...texting that...guy."

"And I broke up with him. Because of you." you say, color rushing across your cheeks.

Ellie blinks, eyes wide, just staring. Her mouth opens, and closes, before she finally starts saying words again.

"But didn't—hold on. Did I...turn you gay?"

You roll your eyes, mouth flattening.

"I don't think that's how it works. But you probably...made it happen faster, I guess." you say, voice trailing off towards the end.

She stays silent, lips pressed in thought. The hands around your waist, which hadn't moved in while, start to fidget and tense in their place.

"You know what? I see it. It actually—it makes a lot of sense."

"...Yeah?" you question, head shifted away from her gaze.

"Like—the way you'd always freeze up if I tried to draw you. Or all that...shit you'd try and say about Cat. You were just—super jealous, weren't you?" she laughs, pulling you closer.

Ellie seems to have regained her consciousness fully, you notice, the lively color of her face having returned as well.

"I—not super, just a...normal amount." you mutter.

"It's okay, princess. I think it's—cute. Little you, all fed up. Just wanted me so bad, huh?"

"No. I barely knew more than you did. I was mostly just confused." you protest. "Can you stand? I'd like to leave this nasty bathroom."

"Yeah, I'm good." she says, hoisting herself off of the counter.

Her arm snakes around your shoulder, using your body to lean against.

"I'm staying with you tonight. If you have a concussion I can't let you fall asleep." you tell her, almost overwhelmed with her smell so close to your face.

"Oh—shit." she blurts. "My place is a fuckin' mess right now."

As it turned out, Ellie was not lying.

Her place, a grungy apartment just on the edge of town, was a wreck. Clothes, garbage, various envelopes and papers scattered the floor. Her kitchen was bare, neat and dusty from the lack of use. You wondered how many people had actually seen her place.

You let her walk you both to the couch, before she plops herself down onto it with a hefty sigh. She sits for a moment before looking up at you, gesturing to the cushion next to herself.

"Well? You gonna sit?" she asks.

You don't respond, simply let yourself fall into the seat, Ellie's arm already sprawled out and waiting for you. She yawns loudly before turning to you.

"I really can't fuckin' sleep?"

"I mean..." you bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating. "you probably don't have one? So...you can sleep. I might just wake you up once to check on your symptoms."

She groans comfortably, spreading out on the couch and kicking her legs forward. Her arm tightens around you, shuffling you into her side. She grabs a blanket from behind her, straightens it out, and throws it over the both of you.

The layer feels nice, warm and heavy, and you find yourself feeling more exhausted as the minutes tick by. You lay your head upon Ellie's chest, memorizing the sounds of her heart. Her voice resonates lowly as she speaks.

"...Did you actually like being there?" she asks you, tone uncertain and quiet. "I don't blame you if it's too much to watch."

"No I—I did like it. Honestly. It was hard not to look away." you assure her, softly breathing across her shirt.

"Ok. Good. I wanted to make sure. I...I really want you there again next week."

"I will be then." you say, eyes casting a glance up to meet her own.

She had already been staring.

"Goodnight, y/n." Ellie murmurs, her focus on you not breaking for a second.

"Yeah, goodnight." you say, forcing your eyes shut and melting into the heat of Ellie's body.

[bunnyreaper]

john price helping you renovate the house you just bought--he insists on helping you, whenever the two of you aren't deployed. 

(hcs + drabble, f!reader, mild 18+)

he knows the whole thing would go faster if he just invited the lads, but he wants the alone time with you even if he won't admit it. if you offer to ask them along too, he just assures you  that you can handle it between the two of you.)

thrives when you ask for his input on decorating the place, and he loves when you ask him to tag along to stores with you. he makes sure the DIY store guys don't underestimate you, ensures all the bathroom fittings will actually fit, gives you the best opinions on the paints you pick. never corrects any of the store owners when they assume you're a couple.

puts on an extra show when destroying or ripping down things. when you ask him to help you take down one of the false walls, he goes out of his way to let out extra little grunts and groans of effort, and flexes because he knows you're watching (and he hopes you're enjoying the show.) 

takes off his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his neck and face, doesn't bother putting it back on, leaving his hairy chest bare and the room full of the scent of his musk. a part of you secretly wishes he'd forget and leave it behind one day.

he catches you staring and smirking when he tucks a pencil behind his ear and looks like dad, gives you a wink. (and you definitely don't think about what it would be like if he knocked you up, and you were doing this all over again to decorate your kids nursery.)

as things come together, your mind starts to drift to what it would be like to christen even room in the house with john--fucking on the kitchen island, in the garden, by the fireplace, in the bedrooms. 

tries to do everything he can so you don't have to spend over the odds on tradesmen, or deal with strange men in your house, but he decides to leave the electrics alone after he gives himself a mild shock and you almost cry with worry. 

the two of you spend many a late night together, sat on a blanket eating pizza and drinking, with only each other's conversation for company--making memories you both treasure. 

"Probably should've put my shirt back on, I'm absolutely covered." John laughs, taking a glance down at his paint-splattered, sweat-sheened chest. 

Your eyes follow his, feeling like this is an invitation to stare uninhibited for once. The two of you have been painting for a while already, the room is insufferably hot in the summer even with the windows open--hence why John is taunting you with his figure. 

"You look like you've been down the pit." You gesture at the black specks littering his skin, and the smears all over his hands, his jeans, everywhere. John is sheer finesse in everything he does, besides painting and decorating, apparently. "But I'm not complaining about the shirtlessness."

The tension between the two of you has been escalating, and you feel brave enough to flirt just a little. From the smirk on John's face, he clearly doesn't have an issue with it. 

"Is that right?" He raises a brow, pausing his painting to turn to you with a burning, heavy look. 

Under the intensity of his gaze, you try to play it off just a little, because holy shit, he looks like he's going to eat you alive right now. "Every woman's dream, drooling over a shirtless tradie." You shrug, showing a pretense of apathy.

John now sets down his roller, his hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans as he seems to be proudly displaying himself--his broad shoulders, rounded pecs and sculpted stomach that is the perfect mix of muscle and fat. 

You have to try not to openly drool as your eyes move down his happy trail. "Is that why you asked me to help?" 

"Asked you!?" You gasp, completely taken aback. "John, you insisted!" 

"You shouldn't be doing all this on your own, love." His posture relaxes as his smile turns earnest. 

You can't help but shake your head, thinking about how you could've had Gaz, Soap, and Ghost helping here too. "We could've had an army, literally." 

"Getting by fine just the two of us, aren't we?" 

"I don't know." You take a step forward as you notice a glob of black paint on John's face. "Your beard is covered too, by the way." 

Your hand finds its way to John's face with ease, forgetting any hesitation you should have about getting tactile with the man you have a forbidden attraction to. Instinct causes you to try and swipe the paint away, but your hands are already covered too. 

"Fuck." The paint is smeared over more of him than before--a black handprint on his neck where you'd held him still while you fussed. 

"What?" His forehead wrinkles, and you can feel his eyes on you as you try to make it better, but fail. 

"Made it worse..." You admit.

John only chuckles, his own paint covered hands finding their way to your cheeks, smearing you with matching globs of tar black.

His heated gaze is closer, his eyes flickering to your lips for a brief moment before he leans in and presses his to yours. 

It's searing, but over in a flash, as John's grin turns wicked and you try to continue standing upright. You're not sure if he's more pleased at the kiss, or the fact that his beard has covered you in even more stains of paint.

"Sorry." He mutters, yet he doesn't seem sorry in the slightest. His hands don't leave your face, and he leans in for another peck as he mumbles against your lips. "Only fair, love."

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Sorry if I’m a bother, if that’s the case feel free to skip over this one.

I freaking loved it! I’m now inspired to draw Sam with the overlords now! If it’s not too much trouble could I ask for Zestial, Charlie and the rest of the hotel’s reactions to Sam?

(Ooo!😳 what if for Angel’s it’s Valentino who tries to hurt him?! That could get messy!)

A/n: Nah dude you're fine! Though I don't write for Zestial (not that that's your fault I keep forgetting to put that in the rules.)

Warnings (?): nothing major happens but Val's here so warning for abuse. Also, Alastor is hurt in Husk's part and Val is hurt in Angel's part, it's nothing graphic but if you don't want to read about that skip those parts.

!!!not proofread!!!

Charlie: Just as cuddly as you! Gladly accepts any candy from you. She ends up getting candy from the hotel for you. Let's you tag along if it's safe (or at least what she assumes you can handle.) Despite being the princess of Hell it's a known fact that she's a pushover and usually refuses to use her powers. So it's not that much of a surprise when someone attacks her. What is a surprise is how you react. I'm going to be honest, she is at least a little scared of you now. Though she's pretty sure you'd only attack people when they hurt your friends. We’re about 80% sure they're harmless.

Vaggie: She ain't too keen on cuddles, but isn't totally against it. She's not great with kids when they're just chilling so she doesn't know what to do. Also, she isn't one for sweets but appreciates the gesture. You remind her of Charlie in a weird way (but like platonic obviously.) Vaggie got some crayons for today's bonding activity when some random sinner attacked Vaggie. Before Vaggie could defend herself the sinner was ripped off of her. She just stared dumbfounded as you took care of the sinner. Well, there goes her thinking you're like Charlie. I mean sure you seemed sweet when somebody attacked a person you liked. You became terrifying and did anything to defend them- wait never mind you're more like Charlie now.

Angel Dust: Kinda creeped out by you before you do anything tbh. You follow him around nearly everywhere and keep offering him candy, despite barely knowing each other. But he understands you're a kid and may have a hard time showing you care, but he sets a ground rule: NEVER follow him to work. It's not a place for kids to be, and you followed that! Valentino just couldn't keep his hands off Angel even out of the studio. You too were just at a park, it was night so no one was really around. Until Valentino spotted Angel, you didn't hear any of the words that were said between them. But you did see Valentino hit Angel and that was the end of that. Seeing you almost kill Valentino was horrifying but also very cathartic. After the initial shock wears off you get about 20 bags of candy and however much cuddle time you want.

Husk: He's pretty blunt about finding you off-putting. But you don't seem to care and still follow him around like a lost puppy. The fact that him insulting you didn't sour your opinion of him even a little bit concerns him. So he starts to look after you. Not because he cares about you! Just because it'd be messed up to let a kid get manipulated no matter who they are. He totally cares about you. He gives chocolate milk or any sweet drink you like at the bar. One day Husk decided to stand up to Alastor which seemed to be a huge mistake on Husk's part. It would have been if it wasn't for you walking in on the scene. The threats were made good on. Just towards Alastor instead of him doing them. Husk is a little shaken up but hey he's probably free now. Gets you any candy you want and shows you a shit ton of card tricks.

Niffty: Tbh I don't have much to say about her. She finds you interesting but doesn't give you much thought. Though eventually when you protect her she returns your affection. Because you are scary and small which are both things she is.

Sir Pentious: (this is while he's in hell btw) Not great with kids. Like I don't think the egg bois are kids but even if they are the only experience he has with kids is his minions. But he does try! He does care for kids. He'll get you candy and cuddle if you want. He used to try to take over territories a lot. He always failed but he still made a lot of enemies that way. So when one of them finds him and tries to hurt him while you're around? I mean if he still wants that territory he can definitely take it now. To be honest I think he'd find you cool, even if you're more than a little scary.

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt.2

His Favorite Student

◀︎ previous part

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Negan becomes your safe space, but he can't keep you safe all of the time tags mentions of bullying/ bullying, second person pov, mild sexual thoughts, age gap as per usual lol, vague mentions of religion

wc 2.7k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

Those lunches with Coach Negan made your spring semester more bearable. Of course, the bullying didn’t stop or anything, but you could almost ignore it now that you had an escape. That 45 minutes in Negan’s office splitting a sandwich was the best part of your day, the only time you felt safe at school. You couldn’t deny that you were growing closer to the man. Through the conversations you shared during the short periods of time, the two of you grew closer, even though he’d never admit it. Your blossoming relationship with the handsome man gave you butterflies. Perhaps, it was because you were just happy to have a friend outside of the church for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“Hey, Coach,” you greeted upon entering his office. After the second week of your visits, you stopped knocking and just let yourself in and he didn’t seem to mind. You handed him a paper bag with his own sandwich, something you started doing recently to show him you were grateful for his kindness. You took your usual seat and started eating. 

"Lookin' forward to spring break, kid?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. You shrugged your shoulders. You didn't have anything to do but sit around and help out in the church all week. Even if you had any friends, your dad wouldn't let you go out with them. 

"No? What kinda fuckin' teenager doesn't look forward to spring break," he laughed. You rolled your eyes. 

"One whose only friend is a forty-something year old man," you deadpanned. He snorted, not because he thought your retort was funny, but because you thought he was your friend. 

"Look, kid, just because I let you eat in here does not make us friends. I am your goddamn teacher! This thing between us is purely professional." His words shouldn't have stung as much as they did. Everything he said was true, but a small part of you  hoped he wouldn't take his job so seriously and just be your friend. Seeing the happiness fizzle out of you because of his words stung, but Negan couldn't risk things going any further than this. He was already nicer to you than he was anyone else, which could cause room for suspicion of inappropriate activities. As much as he liked having you around, he liked having a job a tad more. 

 You didn't speak again and instead tore off bits of your sandwich and nibbled on them until the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rang. Negan watched as you cleaned up your trash and gathered your things. You lingered by the doorway, fiddling with the sleeves of that hideous sweater you had on. 

"Um, if you have time, maybe you can come for the church's service on Easter Sunday?"  

"Kid, you know I don't believe in that shit." 

"I know, but..." You didn't know how to tell him that you just wanted an excuse to see him during the break, because you knew you'd miss him, so you didn't.

"I understand," you said instead before leaving. 

...

 You didn't want to go to PE. The thought of seeing Negan again after that awkward lunch made your stomach churn. But you went anyway because you knew you'd be in a world of trouble if you didn't. 

"You're here early, miss me already, kid?" Negan said as he came out of his office wearing his bright, dimpled smile. You glared at him, angry at how he can be so normal after practically ripping your heart out then smushing it under his shoe. 

"Stop calling me that!" you snapped. 

"What's got your panties in a bunch?" he asked once he was standing before you, towering over you. His vulgar words set your face ablaze with heat. 

"C-coach, that is not how you speak to someone you have a professional relationship with!" You clutched your backpack straps and hurried to the locker room to change. Negan just shrugged his shoulders and went back to waiting for his other students to file in. 

 Negan never cared to take attendance, so when it seemed like most of the class was there, he started the class by blowing his whistle and getting everyone's attention. He didn't feel like orchestrating an activity that day, so he just just let the class have free time and play around the gym. Everyone broke out into their own groups. Some students shot hoops while others bounced a volleyball around in a circle, some played badminton or just sat around chatting with their friends. He was about to slink off to his office to get some work done, but then he saw you. You stood around looking clueless for a second before walking over to the group bouncing a volleyball in a circle. Every time you tried joined in, someone would move to close the circle, effectively pushing you out. You grabbed a racket to join in with the badminton group but when nobody hit the birdie your way, you put it back and sat down on the bench outside of his office. He wanted to leave you be, just moping like you usually did. But he felt drawn to you. He wanted to bring out the you that he saw in his office during lunch hour and block out everything that left you feeling empty. He had to keep a solid boundary between the two of you. Your attachment to him was already becoming unhealthy. But there’s nothing wrong with a teacher talking to his student. 

 You quickly wiped your tears then glanced up at the handsome man when he took a seat beside you. 

“You look fuckin’ depressed,” he cheerily observed. He immediately regretted his tone when he saw the harshness of your glare. 

“I’m fine,” you snapped. 

“Then why’re you cryin’?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned this time. You looked up at him with sad, doe eyes, wanting to pour your heart out to him, like you would a friend. But Negan wasn’t your friend and he made that clear. 

“Just leave me alone!” You muttered. You were sick of Negan. He said one thing with his words, but did the complete opposite with his actions a minute later and it made your head spin. You stood up and started to leave, but his hand grabbed your wrist, gently enough for you to pull away, but firm enough so you wouldn’t just slip through his fingers. His touch sent tingles up your spine. You looked around to see if anyone saw then relaxed when you realized they didn’t. You snatched your hand back and sat down again, this time a little closer. 

“Look, ki-“ he stopped himself from saying ‘kid’ and used your name instead, causing warmth to blossom in your cheeks. Your name so flowed nicely from his mouth. 

“What do you want, coach?” You asked. 

“Jus’ came to keep ya company.” 

“Why? It’s not like we’re friends or anything,” you bit back. 

“That is correct. I am just a teacher checking on his goddamn student,” he said smugly. You looked down at the floor and blinked back tears. You didn’t need him rubbing salt in your freshly inflicted wound. 

“Hey,” he tilted your chin up with a bent finger, making you look at him, “We are not friends, but that does not mean that I do not care about you. I dislike you the least out of all my students, so I am going out of my goddamn way to make sure you are okay.” He wasn’t always the nicest, but when he needed to be, he sure was genuine. That was your favorite thing about him and it made you feel a little better. Even though this was his first time saying it, you always felt that he cared about you. 

“So, I’m your favorite student?” You teased, a smile returning to your previously sullen face. 

“That’s not what I said,” he deadpanned, but you could tell he was suppressing his own smile. You nudged him with your foot and he gently smiled at you. He patted your knee as he stood up. 

“Go do something with the rest of the period and stop sitting around like a damn bum.” 

 You walked back inside once you heard the bell ring. You spent the remaining 45 minutes of the period walking around the track outside. The cool and breezy air conditioning felt great against your sweaty body. Going for a stroll in the sweltering Virginia heat wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants wasn’t a bright idea in the slightest, but you didn’t want to lose your position of being Negan’s favorite by defying his request. You beelined to the locker room, eager to shower and get out of your sweaty clothes. You grabbed your original clothes from your locker and walked to the showers. At least tried to, but you were stopped by a crowd of girls. You tried to squeeze by, but they wouldn’t let you through. 

“Could I get by, please?” You asked politely, not wanting to start anything. 

“Are you fucking Coach Negan?” One girl blurted before being immediately reprimanded by her friends. Your eyes widened in shock as your face burned with embarrassment and anger from such a ludicrous accusation. 

“Wh-What?! No, why.. why would think that?” Your shock was real, but for some reason, you felt like you were lying. 

“Don’t lie. We saw the way he acted with you. How he was looking at you. How you look at him!” A different girl chimed in. You were at a loss for words. You floundered, unable to even think for the sake of forming a response. "Yeah. And we've seen you eating lunch with him, like, every day," the first girl concluded.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! That would- He wouldn- He’s m-my teacher!” You stammered. 

“Uh huh, just cut the act, Virgin Mary. No shame in trying to get a good grade.” The girls broke out in a chorus of laughter before pushing past you and leaving the showers. You wished you had some clever response or really any response at all, but you were dumbfounded. You set your things down on the bench before getting undressed and setting your dirty gym clothes aside. You hopped in the shower and let the warm water splash over you as your mind reeled.

  You couldn’t fathom why those girls, why anyone would think you and Negan would engage in pre-marital coitus. Or any form of physical intimacy. Sure, he was good looking and whenever he grazed or brushed against you, you felt all tingly inside. And you wouldn’t mind doing such things with the older man, even if, according to your father, you’d be damned to hell for all eternity. Your mind wandered to a place you fought so hard for it to not go. A place where you imagined how Negan’s large hands would feel all over your body, how your name would sound coming from his mouth as he whispered dirty things into your ear as he undressed you. You felt warm down there, a throbbing sensation that often happened when you thought of him for too long. You turned the handle, changing the water from hot to cold in order to ground yourself. You shouldn’t be having these thoughts, they were sinful and inappropriate. You turned off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping out of the shower. 

 Panic filled your chest when you saw the bench you left your stuff on was empty. This can’t be right,  you thought to yourself, rushing to the locker you had inside the locker room. Nothing. It felt like your heart stopped beating and it became hard to breathe. You were stuck here. You couldn’t leave the locker room in just your towel, that would be humiliating. And even if you did leave, you had no other spare clothes. 

“Hello?” You called out, hoping there was still a girl in here who would help you somehow. When no response came, you called out again. “Is there anyone in here?” Silence. You sat on the bench in nothing but your towel, not knowing what else to do and cried. Cried because you had no idea how to get out of this situation, cried because you resented yourself for letting people treat you this way, cried because it felt like the entire world was plotting against you. 

 On the two out of five days of the week you had PE, you had it as the last class of the day. After every class, without fail, you’d give Negan a little wave on your way out to say goodbye. It quickly became something he looked forward to, so when he didn’t see it in the crowd of students leaving, he grew concerned. At first he brushed it off, figuring you were still upset by what he told you at lunch. But when he saw your backpack on the floor as he was closing up the gym, he immediately knew something was wrong. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to do this as he walked toward the girl’s locker room. 

He called your name as he banged on the door. “You still in there?” He asked. “Yeah,” came your shaky reply. “Y’alright? Need me to come in there?” He asked apprehensively. “Yeah.” He walked all the way in, a hand over his eyes until you told him “You don’t have to cover your eyes, I’m decent.” He removed his hand and saw you sat on the bench in your towel, looking up at him with red, puffy eyes.

“It’s almost five o’clock, the hell are you still doing here?” If you hadn’t cried out all your tears earlier, you would have burst into tears once again. 

“My clothes are gone,” you admitted, ashamed. 

“What do you mean they’re ‘gone’?” He asked. You sighed, too exhausted to feel anything. “I got out the shower and my clothes were gone. Checked my locker and they’re not in there either,” you explained. He let out a disappointed sigh. For a split second, he found himself wanting to beat whoever did this to you into a bloody pulp, but he couldn’t go around beating up high schoolers. But he did sure as hell want to cuss them out, give him a piece of his mind, maybe an in school suspension too. He had never seen you look so helpless and defeated before. You’ve been down before, but now you just seemed like a weak shell of yourself. You couldn’t even look at him, and that’s what hurt the most. 

 Without another word, he pulled off his own crewneck sweatshirt. You happened to glance over at him as his t-shirt underneath rode up too, revealing his toned stomach. You quickly glanced away, once he got the sweatshirt off. He stood there in his white t-shirt and tossed the sweater at you. 

“Put this on. I’ll try to find some pants for you in the lost and found.” With that, he left and you hastily put on the garment. It was still warm with his body heat and smelled like him too, which was oddly comforting. After a minute or so, he came back and tossed you a pair of sweatpants. You looked at them suspiciously, not wanting to put on strange pants when you didn’t have any underwear. 

“They’re new. Had some spares in my office.” You put them on once he turned around then stood up. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. He had so much he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask, but he left it alone, not wanting to upset you further. “Not a problem.” You stood there awkwardly and he did too. The unsaid words between you two were forming a thick cloud of tension that fogged the air. You opened your mouth to say something, but instead of words coming out, fresh, hot tears sprang to your eyes. Negan opened his arms for a hug because he could tell you needed one and gravity pulled you into them like a magnet and you just sobbed into his shirt much like you did all those weeks ago while he held you tightly and repeatedly whispered it’s alright. Negan tried to pull away after he felt that you calmed down enough, but you clung to him. 

"I missed the bus. My parents are gonna be so mad!" you whined. He sighed and patted your head. 

"I'll give you a ride home." 

next part ▶︎

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Monthly Pity Party (Supernatural One-Shot)

Team Free Will x AFAB!GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Your cramps are kicking your ass this month, though you do wish the boys would quit throwing pity parties for you.

Fic type: period comfort

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I think I might actually die, like, for real," you groaned, rubbing at your forehead irritably. "I mean- if we ever do find the bastard, I'd like to ask why he or she or they said 'fuck you in particular' to people with vaginas and uteri and all that bullshit."

"Yes, it's not something I was able to fully understand from his plans," Castiel replied, seeming to only be half listening. Your hand shot to your lower belly, breath sucking sharply between your teeth. "Though it does serve a purpose... if... that may provide some comfort to you."

"You know," you groaned, resisting the urge to curl yourself into a ball and pass away on the spot. "It really doesn't, Cas."

Sam stood from his favourite spot at the table, picked your socked feet off the end of the lounge and sat down again while pulling them into his lap. You gave the gentle giant a soft yet strained smile and he squeezed your left foot to show he was listening.

"Dean will be back soon," he said by way of comfort. You were also pretty sure it was a diversion to nip your conversation with Castiel in the bud before it got too heated or too existential. You had a habit of doing that during your time of the month.

Speaking of- the sound of the bunker door closing heralded the arrival of beers for the boys and treats for you. Special treats that you only really reserved for that horrendous week once a month where you weren't able to hunt half the things on your to-get list, or even sometimes able to stay awake for longer than three hours.

"All right," came Dean's voice from around the corner. "Party time. I've got the goods. Beer, pie, skittles, and... all the other crap you asked for." He placed the two bags of groceries and goodies onto the coffee table before gesturing for you to move so he could settle down on the couch with you.

You made space for him and then he patted his lap for you to lay back down again. You settled your head down in his lap as he used his arm to screw the lid of his beer off and chucked the metal disc onto the table.

"Oh Cas, I forgot to heat the thing up," Dean mumbled, giving you an apologetic squeeze on the shoulder before pointing to your homemade wheat bag. "Be a good Angel and do the thing?"

Castiel picked up the wheat bag and disappeared into the kitchen. Hopefully after his stint as a human, he'd know how to use the microwave to heat it up properly. Honestly though, if your skin was able to withstand it, you'd love the direct heat of the sun over your cramps.

Dean leaned forward, grabbed one more beer from the table and passed it to his brother who thanked him quietly. Then he passed you the bag of skittles and watched you rip the thing open and shove a handful into your mouth with a moan of relief that bordered on pornographic.

"I don't know how you eat those," Dean said sceptically. You chewed on the lollies a few more times before swallowing.

"They taste good," you replied as if that was a good enough answer to it all. "And shut up, I've seen some of the stuff you've shoved down your gullet."

"Shut up, Sam-" Dean quipped as Sam snorted out a laugh at your signature bantering. "But fair point."

You let out another hiss as your cramp amped it up once again. Your voice evened out into a rather pained and elongated word not fit for young ears and Dean's brows furrowed in concern.

"Dean, you get like this every month. It's just a few days of discomfort- and if Cas wasn't so wiped right now, he'd make it all go away for me. It's nothing I can't handle. Promise."

Dean took a moody sip of his beer and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I don't have to like it, all right?"

You were saved from having to put too much thought into your response as Cas reappeared from the kitchen, wheat bag in hand. He handed it to you and you placed it over your abdomen. Instantly the heat began soaking through your skin to ease the ache beneath.

"I'm sorry I can't heal you in my current state," Castiel apologised before sitting down stiffly in the single-seater armchair. You sighed, chowing down on a couple more lollies.

"Look guys," you said, pulling your head and feet out of the Winchesters' laps and sitting up. You pressed the heat pack against your abdomen and leaned back against the couch. "I know you all mean well, but it's just a period. You don't have to pity me. I'll be all right after some Advil and some comfort food. A snuggle or two wouldn't hurt either. But I'm not going to have any more of these pitiful apologies and concerned looks."

The three of them looked at each other and then back at you again. Dean and Sam both took a swig and nodded respectfully.

"Sure thing," Sam replied with one of those blink-and-you-miss-it acknowledging smiles.

"Uh-huh," was Dean's answering reply. You knew what that meant. He'd humour you for a day or two and be right back at his usual schtick. But that was fine. You kinda liked it when he was just a little worried over you.

"Right then," you said decisively, giving Castiel a very pointed look. "I'm going to lay back down and we're all going to watch a movie. I am going to grumble about my cramps and we're all going to have a great time, yes? Good."

"Yes dear," Dean reached for the remote for the television. "Now- Cas, I know better than to ask our menstruating friend here what we're gonna watch so- your pick."

[wonderlandwalker]

Intertwined Demise | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: It only takes a single second for his world to fall apart in your hold

Content Warnings/Tags: Blood, injury, angst, a lot of insinuations but nothing explicit

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: For some reason I can't seem to be able to write anything longer than this. But here is a little snippet of angst until I find the headspace to write properly again

Your face was covered in dirt and dust, only clean where the tears had forced their path. And if it hadn't been for that simple fact, you wouldn't even be able to tell you were crying. Your face was strong, stoic even. All emotions lacking at a time when you would expect them most.

He kept waiting for your fight or to flight, but the longer he waited, the more hopeless the situation became, the more he wished he could get through to you. Because you were standing there, frozen.

And it's strange, the things you remember when you're watching the light fade from someone's eyes. Like the time you tried to show him how to make madeleines, but how could you expect him to focus on the melting butter when you were so, so close. And really, he thought, how was he supposed to not kiss you. 

He starts yelling at you until his ears start ringing, but it's no use, you haven't moved a single muscle.  You just stand there, looking at him as if everything will be okay. As if you’ve found your world in his eyes and are prepared to leave with it. 

He wants to run to you, wants to rip you away from your own thoughts. He wants to tell you about the promise you made to teach him chess. He didn't care much for the game itself, but the time you spent playing it was time he had to spend without you, and so he was determined to learn. But it’s no use, you’re standing there like a pawn in someone else's game, and he hasn't learned how to save you yet.

And the rest of your friends, the rest of the squad is pulling at him, trying to get him to move. Telling him to come with them, that they have to go. But how could he call them friends any longer if they did not see that by asking him to leave you, they are asking him to leave a piece of himself here.

Against all their pleas, and against all their orders, he stays right there. He stays and looks at you, he looks at you as if all of a sudden, you’ll be in his arms again. You’ll be in his embrace and you’ll tell him about the colours you think you should paint the house, and he’ll always agree with you no matter which one you think is best.

But it wouldn't matter, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get to you through the glass wall separating you. The material is in front of him as if it's mocking him. He can see you, he can see his heart being ripped from his chest, but he cant reach to get it back.

You had fallen behind, you had noticed something the others didn't and spent an extra second looking at it, but when you figured out what it was, your fate had already been written. 

When he had heard the noise, when his ears had alerted him something was wrong before his eyes could even get the chance, he had reached for you. He had reached for you to push you ahead of him, shielding you from whatever it was he had heard. He had turned around, and he had seen the last bit of space between you close up. And this shield wasn't one he would be able to get through. He wasn't the only one trying to get to you, he heard bullets being fired into the wall, but it didn't make a difference, it was too strong. 

From behind you, he could see peacekeepers turning the corner, and he starts pounding on the glass even harder, he hits it until the blood from his knuckles turns the glass into a tortured canvas. He screams out for you, but it doesn't seem like you can hear him. He sees your lips moving, and he can recognise you telling him you love him. But it doesn't calm him down like it usually would, it only makes him fight harder. Your body language is a stark contrast to your face, and he can see how afraid you really are, how guarded you’ve become, but you’re determined to make this last moment matter. He wants to give you what you’re asking for, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop the desperation in his voice or the anger in his body. 

You weren't dying, no, this was worse, you were giving up. Your tears stop and he sees you blink the last of them from your eyes. You’re still looking at him, you’re looking at him as if it will be your last opportunity to do so, and he wishes it could be a better one. 

He doesn't understand why youre not fighting, why youre not trying to get away from the men who circle around you and start to drag you away. You go with them as if they're not leading you to a world that doesn't have him in it. 

And all he could do was watch, watch as you went through agonizing despair, watch as they took you from him.

Everything around him turns silent. He no longer hears the yelling of the people behind him, he no longer pays attention to the alarm that has started to sound. 

It is in that moment that he gets it, because the moment he can no longer see you, he stops everything he’s doing. He stops screaming, he stops crying, and he drops to his knees. 

Everything around him becomes a background noise that he no longer cares enough about to identify. And he understands now. He understands the tranquillity in losing the only thing that keeps you going. He knows because it isn't even a choice. He knows he will do anything and everything to get to see you again. He will spend the rest of his life looking behind him as if you’ll be there, reaching for you until his mind starts to take pity on him and he’ll get to see you again.

And he will gladly lay down his own life to give yours back to you. Even if he doesn't get to see you again, the knowledge that you will be alright will bring him all the peace he could wish for in this moment right here.

Because what is there to lose, he thought, when you've already lost your mind.

[doonalli]

Hinako; Humanity in Affection and Connection (Hinako Character Analysis)

Hinako was probably the character analysis I wanted to write the most after Anzu, She is such an amazing character to me, but i just don't see any discussion on her at all, most of the time all I see is people just claiming she is only a plot device and not much of a character, or otherwise underutilised, which to me couldn’t be further from the truth. So I want to write an analysis on who Hinako is, and how she plays a part in YTTD.

To me all the dummies represent different aspects of humanity, Anzu represents it through her fear of death, Hayasaka represents it through his contradictory emotions, Kurumada represents it through his connection to others, Ranmaru represents it through his doubts, Mai represents it through her own autonomy, and I would argue that Hinako represents the physical aspect of humanity.

But over the course of the previous 5 analyses on the 5 other dummies one point that comes up again and again is that humanity isn't about the physical truth and it never was, and Hinako is no exception. Being an agent of Asu-naro her mindset is informed by theirs, you can see this is the way she talks about being used and the emphasis she places on "value" in general. Almost more like a tool than a person

And it's clear through her actions and reactions too, for example when Q-taro was stabbed and all the dummies went out of their way to help even though there was no benefit in this for them and Hinako just didn't get why, or a little beforehand when Ranmaru takes the tag from Sara (during the logic route). 

Hinako in those moments doesn't get why they would do these things for no real reason, when these actions don’t bring any value to them. 

Even from first meeting Hinako talks about information she can't share on account of using it as a safety net for herself: 

Right from our first meeting we can see glimpses into her ideology and it's easy to see where this mindset could have come from.

And later when finding about the secret information everyone has she claims that it gave them all new unique value, which no matter the choice, Sara denies as they have value anyways.

It's clear Hinako's mindset comes from Asu-naro, Kai, who's the character most similar to Hinako in this regard also shows this mentality off in how he pleads for his life with his “vital information for escape” during the first Main Game,

However, unlike Hinako, he was actually lucky enough to be able to escape the Asu-naro bubble. And we see the effects of that in his note to Sara on his laptop. 

The only chance Hinako gets is during the sub-game on the 4th and 5th floors, the Murderer Game, where she is placed along with the Dummies after she taking the place of the real Hinako. And while at first she seems to play into Asu-naro’s mindset, over the course of the chapter these beliefs are broken down for her, starting with Q-taro’s words after he got stabbed.

When Q-taro asks the dummies to work with them, Hinako is the most reluctant at first, asking him if he heard the rules, reiterating that one or the other has to die before she is cut off by Q-taro asking her an important question.

Hinako is shaken by this response, and as all the dummies start to help Q-taro 1 by 1 she is left behind with her protests. This acts as the first step to Hinako’s eventual willingness to connect however as of yet she isn’t convinced and that's shown during Keiji’s fight with Midori and its aftermath. 

During the fight she is the most actively detrimental to the humans, stopping Keiji from shooting the gun and grabbing Gin’s shovel to stop him from attacking midori, stating that:

And after Keiji is pushed into the coffin Hinako stubbornly states “Hmph… It's not our fault…” and after Ranmaru rips up the consent form that would have saved him Hinako reminds everyone that the dummies would have died if Keiji won and he still decided to fight despite that fact.

However once Ranmaru actually makes his intentions to save Keiji themselves clear Hinako immediately refutes it, asking:

And sticks to her sentiment by stating:

This mindset of hers is reinforced when the cast tries to move to the security office where Hinako tells them:

She physically can’t help Keiji even if she wanted to due to the red string of fate and she likens this to being a slave robbed of her freedom, something all too similar to what Asunaro’s mindset has been shown to us to be before.

However this mindset is proven wrong to Hinako once the collar pairings are turned off and she is freed from them. Still in disbelief, Mai then asks her to make up with everyone which she tries to fight back against by asking:

She is shut down once Anzu Hayasaka or Mai ask if she could really kill them. Anzu and Hayasaka specifically callsout their kindness while Mai fights back against it by claiming she’ll stop them herself.

Hinako still struggling to connect claims that:

Before finally breaking down and helping the cast by telling them about Midori’s ID card, giving up that “one or the other has to die” mentality from before and now starting to actually help find a new option. She agrees when Ranmaru asks her to come along and it is from this point forth Hinako starts to truly connect with the rest of the group.

And this is in a way shown off during the Maple fight where she can try to strike up a conversation with her:

Once Maple starts chasing after the group Kurumada gets injured, Hinako tells everyone to run to the 5th floor, and when Qtaro struggles to keep up she actually shows concern saying:

Rather than the refusal to care she showed before as the dummies all went to help Qtaro and when he just got stabbed on the monitor she shows him concern.

Then, when Gin tries to run back she reminds him that he will die, him and Qtaro both, and if Sara hesitates to close the elevator doors she will force them closed herself.

While Hinako isn’t outright showing affection in the same way others would, (likely as a result of how Asu-naro raises their agents without it according to Kai’s letter,) she still is concerned for others and that's an important difference to the Hinako from earlier who rarely did so.

This also shows again with her interactions with Kurumada. In the Logic Route, Hinako stays outside of the locker room during the puzzle alongside Kurumada, similar to how she stayed outside the lava puzzle in the boxing room earlier in the chapter. 

This could imply that she purposely protected Kurumada from entering, as her staying out isn’t mentioned in the emotion route, where Kurumada is staying behind with Kanna.

And when Kurumada attempts to deny the charger, if Anzu and Hayasaka died earlier in the chapter the action of telling Kurumada to use it on himself goes to Hinako:

Here Hinako is telling Kurumada to live, notably however, the way she goes about it is different to Anzu or Hayasaka who argue that they’re “allies”, instead Hinako argues from a more logical angle, telling him to just give it up and finally asking him a simple “...Why not live?”. It's clear that she does care for Kurumada and wants him to live, even if it's expressed differently to the others.

Hinako makes fun of him as he berates the dummies for not thinking things through by asking “Should the guy who got himself injured like this be saying that?”, a fun parallel to how Hinako protested against the dummies helping Q-taro by calling them idiots where Kurumada made fun of her instead.

Originally Hinako refuted when the dummies were helping Q-taro and now Kurumada attempts to refuse help from the dummies himself.

Kurumada then goes on to tell Sara his secret info, in his eyes removing the last of his value, a mindset Hinako herself operated under earlier when first finding out about the secret info, but Sara proves her words from back then with how she makes a promise with Kurumada to protect everyone, dummies included.

The next scene I want to talk about is a very important one, not only is it a major example of Hinako truly opening up and connecting with her allies, but it's also the first example of Midori taking that away from her, in a small way at least.

When Ranmaru stands over Kurumada thinking about possibly tagging him Hinako walks in stating

She reveals a collar reset device, specifically with the intention of protecting her allies.

It's also interesting that the device she reveals is specifically one that needs cooperation, just another note to add to Hinako’s newfound willingness to connect.

However after Hinako turns on the device and is about to explain how it works Midori walks in to take that from her and explain it instead, even using her (and Kanna/Sou) as an example for the shocking system, almost like a tool…

It's just a small example but nonetheless it is an example of Midori dehumanising Hinako in a way, by taking away her spotlight from helping the others for himself and using her. And this will eventually lead to a much bigger example later…

On a totally and completely unrelated note, once the cast gets back down to the 4th floor and are searching for answers as to where Keiji could be they find Mai alone instead, after giving her the ID card they all decide to follow her into a new room. Here Hinako takes the chance to use the hot drinks machine to carry a bunch of hot cocoa, and soon after asks if she can go to search the cemetery, when told it would be dangerous to go alone she decides to take Ranmaru along with her, further showing her affection for Ranmaru in some form.

Later we find out her goal here was to actually spill the hot cocoa on her coffin to protect herself during the banquet,

While it's unclear how much she knew about the banquet, she still seems to have done it for that purpose, not knowing she would later swap with Midori.

But its still important to add how she also spilt cocoa on Ranmaru’s coffin. At first it’s thought to be done as a distraction but if Hinako knew that unglowing her coffin with cocoa would save her then she would have had to know what spilling cocoa onto Ranmaru’s coffin would do too.

Ranmaru then leaves to “check up on Kurumada”, leaving Hinako alone, and an announcement from “Keiji” is heard, leading Sara to go into the classroom alone and get stunned.

Once Sara regains consciousness in the Kanna lives route Hinako will return without Ranmaru, and once the topic changes to Kurumada’s whereabouts Hinako makes a joke about Kurumada possibly being dead, however her expression quickly changes to a worried one once she realises no one actually checked, showing her concern for him yet again.

This joke is also similar to the types of dark jokes Kai, the other Asu-naro member of the cast, would make, furthering that connection.

The Logic route however has a much less… lighthearted scene… Instead Ranmaru ends up killing the remaining Yabusame and Hinako reacts to this with a hatred for Ranmaru, one only beaten by Kurumada’s. She calls him out for wanting to save himself and Ranmaru berates her, asking when she decided to switch sides, to which she can’t respond.

This bitterness continues to the pre-banquet where Hinako asks Sara if it's alright to leave Ranmaru free, something awfully similar to how she talked earlier in the chapter about being not being free, she goes on to state her want for revenge against him before playing it off as a joke. Finally she remarks that they could just leave Ranmaru powerless once the banquet is over, asking Sara if she really is going to forgive him for killing Yabusame and ending with the notion that there isn’t any point taking it out on her with a dour expression.

If Ranmaru died she is less vengeful on account of there being no one to take revenge against, instead she remarks that if it weren’t for Ranmaru’s “stupid betrayal” she could have been a bit happier with everyone alive, then she tells Sara is a shame about Yabusame, before telling her to keep her head up with the banquet ahead.

It's important that she yet again shows her newfound concerns for others, even admitting that she would be happier if more people were alive, but it's also important that it was Ranmaru who betrayed everyone as Hinako was shown to be close to Ranmaru when she saved him and she explored with him, so to have him do this and sort of act like a tool for Sara goes against everything she’s learnt.

In the Emotion Route though Hinako is much happier, even admitting as much when Sara asks, remarking how amazing it is they were all able to make it in one piece if all the dolls survived then playing it off as “better than being torn to pieces”, she then makes Sara swear to bring the dummies back after the banquet.

If all the dummies survived Kurumada will request for a song, Hinako listening in will confess that it's pretty nice even at a time like this. The song itself is named “Tunagu” literally meaning “to connect”, and its here is the truest form of connection between everyone in the cast and with Hinako. In this moment, Hinako can truly say she is human… but it doesn’t last long.

When entering the coffins for the banquet she is always first or second to enter, likely as she believes she will be safe due to her coffin no longer glowing after being hot cocoa’ed, but as the coffins are buried under the ground Midori calls for Hinako, and while it’s unknown the exact circumstances they end up swapping coffins, and this choice ends up dooming Hinako, as she is later betrayed by Midori and killed, seemingly unexpectedly.

This action ends up dehumanising Hinako, relegating her to just a tool for Midori, despite all the growth she displayed, it's all taken away from her at this moment. She dies, not even having her own choice in the matter, unlike the others (excluding Anzu) and in turn she dies, still under Asunaro's grasp. Midori being in a non glowing coffin also puts Ranmaru back in danger, when he should have been safe, taking even that part away from Hinako.

Hinako’s relationship with Midori also works as a dark parallel to Sou and Kanna’s, Kanna’s claims of not being useful matching Hinako using her usefulness as a safety net, the care Sou inevitably has for Kanna versus the lack of care Midori has as he kills off his allies. It's what Sou and Kanna would’ve been without the affection they had for each other.

The effects of that are seen throughout the rest of the Banquet, Hinako ends up being presented as possibly an enemy when Q-taro claims everyone who's died so far has been an ally, however, Hinako’s last words end up exposing Midori and give the participants another fighting chance.

Despite Hinako physically being a human she isn’t treated as such because that's not what humanity is about, and that's the tragedy of Hinako, but even so, for those few moments where she truly connected with the dummies and the survivors she was really “alive”, and she was able to, in some small ways, truly be free from Asunaro.

And in a way it was all because of the connection the real Hinako Mishuku and Alice shared, which gave our Hinako the chance to connect with others too, and with that, just like Kai did before her, she finally learnt one aspect of what it meant to be a human, to connect with others and to show affection and have that same affection given back to you.

================================================

Hinako undergoes a drastic change from the Hinako we saw at the start of the chapter, but recounting what she has done over the course of the chapter you can see the natural progression she takes to get here. It can be easy to disregard this aspect of her when we find out about her connection to Asunaro after she died, but I think that's a disservice to Hinako, and I think she is so much more than the banquet twists.

There is plenty to Hinako, from her growth as a person and her learning to connect, to showing the effects Midori and Asunaro have over her, to simply showing off another aspect to what makes a human, and it's why I think Hinako is genuinely such a great character that i can’t wait to see more of. Not to “fix” her or give her something but to expand on what's already there, because she is a character like any other.

I don’t think Hinako’s character is over yet of course, i’m certain there will be more from her in 3-2 and in her Minisode but I do think that Hinako is already a full character, albeit a tragic one, I don’t think she was misused or killed off to early. Hinako’s character exists for reasons and those reasons were genuinely fulfilled, she shows the effect Asunaro and their mindset have on their agents, and just how trapped they are, in a way no other character really could, and she adds yet another layer to the themes of 3-1 and humanity as a whole.

I think calling Hinako a waste of a character or to simply write her off as a plot device is unfair to who Hinako is and her purpose in the story, I think that there is a lot to here already in game that people don’t see because they insist Hinako exists solely for the twists during the Banquet and thats sad :( So hopefully at least this post will get you to appreciate Hinako a bit more and see her as more than just a tool, in universe and out of it too.

Short part 2 type thing -> Here!!!!

but this has gone on long enough, I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!!

[caroldantops]

indentation in the shape of you || valcarol

ship: valkyrie x carol danvers

summary/request: carol shows valkyrie her new suit. valkyrie doesn't like it.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (18+ only), kinda pwp, the marvels spoilers, strap on use, jealous sex, daddy valkyrie, dom!val, sub!carol

a/n: if you're seeing this coming from a ship tag hello! i usually write reader insert so if you go to my blog looking for more of this ummm. sorry.

masterlist | ao3 link

“I’m glad that they seem to be adjusting well. Fury tells me that they’re working on restoring Tarnax’s atmosphere, so hopefully they won’t have to stay in New Asgard for too much longer,” Carol tightens her fists at her side, tension in her body clear as she stands in front of Valkyrie’s desk. 

“Oh, no worries. Having them is no bother at all. Though I’m sure they’re eager to get off Earth,” Valkyrie hums as she swirls her dagger.

Carol insisted on coming down after fixing Hala’s sun to check on things, something that didn’t surprise Valkyrie in the slightest. What did surprise her was her sudden costume change. Her suit was different. Less saturated, emblem bigger on her chest. Valkyrie didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the Captain Marvel image that she’d grown used to. 

Plus, this one’s torn in places. Cheaply made. Not fitting for a hero who flies into suns. 

Carol is rambling on about something to do with one of the Skrull families as Valkyrie analyzes this new suit. It does hug her hips nicely. Form fitting around the waist that she’s grabbed and pulled against her many times before. 

“What’s with the new get-up?” 

“What?” Carol’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt. 

“This,” Valkyrie points her dagger at Carol. “Different suit.” 

Carol looks down at her suit. Valkyrie holds back a chuckle at how she almost looks surprised by what she’s wearing. “Oh! I got a new one.”

“Clearly,” Valkyrie laughs. “Come closer, I wanna see it.” 

Carol scrunches up her brows in confusion at Valkyrie’s sudden interest, but chalks it up to that warrior mentality. That woman loves some good battle armor. She walks around the desk to stand in front of Valkyrie, awkwardly holding still as she inspects the suit, running her hands over the material and poking a finger through one of the tears that ripped during the fight with Dar-Benn. 

“Seems cheap, doesn’t it?” Valkyrie sneers. “My armory could make you something ten times as sturdy. Where’d you get this shit suit from?” 

“It’s not shit,” Carol huffs. Valkyrie raises an eyebrow at her and pulls her finger down, making the rip bigger. “Hey!” 

“Why aren’t you answering me, hm?” Valkyrie knows damn well where this suit came from, she could tell from the moment she touched it. She just wants Carol to say it. 

“Aladna. Prince Yan--”

“Oh, a gift from your husband.” 

Before Carol knows it, she’s being tugged flush against Valkyrie. From her standing position, she towers over her even more than she usually does, but she gulps because she knows who’s in control here. 

Valkyrie knows that Prince Yan is no more than a friend to Carol, but both of them know just how much the idea of Carol being technically married makes Valkyrie’s jealousy blaze. 

Especially when she comes around with the gifts he’s given her. 

“Val--” 

“You know, I’m surprised it looks so dull, given that Aladna’s traditional clothing has more colors than a pride parade.” Valkyrie grips Carol’s waist, fingers digging into her sides. It would hurt if Carol didn’t have super endurance. But it’s enough to make the message clear. 

“It’s fine, I’ll probably go back to my old one anyway.” Carol refuses to make eye contact with her. She can’t let her know how much this is affecting her right now. 

But gods. 

It took Carol a long time to find someone who could make her feel this way. Someone who could make her feel safe rather than terrified of giving in to their control, their dominance. 

It just came so naturally to Valkyrie. Carol supposes that’s why she can’t stay away, comes running back when her thoughts get too much for her to bear and she just needs them shut off. 

Like now. 

“Don’t look away from me,” Valkyrie says firmly. Carol bites her lip and meets her gaze again. “Good girl. Bend over the desk.” 

Carol briefly considers asking why, but at the moment she can’t bring herself to fight Valkyrie’s little game. She moves some stuff out of the way and bends over the desk. She does her best to steady her breathing as she feels Valkyrie’s hands run up the back of her thighs. 

“You’d think that Prince Yan would give his princess a sturdier suit. You know, I bet I could just…” 

Riiiiiiiip.

 “Valkyrie!” 

Valkyrie laughs, giving Carol’s ass a slap as she admires what she’s done. Just as Valkyrie suspected, she was able to poke into one of the tears and fully rip a hole right through the crotch of Carol’s suit. Her cunt is exposed, the pale skin of her ass peeking through the top of the tears as well. Valkyrie steps forward, hips flush against Carol’s ass. 

“Feel that, princess?” Carol groans. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, sir.” Carol gasps as Valkyrie grinds the bulge of her strap into her exposed ass. She tries hiding her face to conceal how flustered she is, but Valkyrie won’t tolerate that. She’s tugged up by her hair, Valkyrie’s lips brushing against her cheek as she speaks lowly to her. 

“Does your husband ever do this for you?” Valkyrie doesn’t expect a response, just chuckling at Carol’s whines. “Does he know what a needy girl you are?” 

“No, sir.” Valkyrie unbuckles her belt, pulling out her strap and nudging the tip between Carol’s already damp folds. Carol shudders, pushing her hips back against the sensation. 

“Greedy, greedy thing. Already trying to fuck yourself on my cock.” Valkyrie stands up straighter, but doesn’t release her grip on Carol’s hair, knowing the stinging in her scalp makes Carol as compliant as can be. “You’re getting spoiled, princess. Gonna have to ask nicely for what you want.” 

“Please,” Carol asks softly, voice pitched high as Valkyrie rubs her clit with her strap. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.” 

“Hmm,” Valkyrie releases Carol’s hair and runs her hand down her back, feeling the strong muscles of her back quiver under her touch. “Dunno, that’s not very convincing if you ask me.” 

“Please, daddy, I need you to fuck me!” 

Valkyrie laughs and sinks her cock into Carol’s weeping pussy. Carol lets out a guttural moan, only overshadowed by the wet noises her cunt makes as Valkyrie pounds deep into her. She grips Carol’s hips, pulling her back against her to meet her rough thrusts. 

She loves having Carol like this. The all-powerful Captain Marvel, destroyer of armies and savior of the universe begging for her tight pussy to be ruined by her, shivering under her praise and degradation, weeping in her arms after she’s been thoroughly fucked. 

Carol must have been particularly pent up today, because it doesn’t take much longer for her to be on the edge, a few strokes of Valkyrie’s fingers over her clit and some whispered praises of “Good princess, let go for me. I’ve got you” send her into a shaking mess as she comes. 

She mumbles something incoherent as Valkyrie flips her over, pulling her up to curl against her chest. “What was that, baby? Can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.” 

“Thank you,” Carol sighs. 

Valkyrie smiles softly, kissing Carol on the tip of her nose and rubbing her back. “You that tired after one round?” 

“Not tired, just…tired.” 

“Ah, yeah. That really cleared things up.” 

“Shut up.” 

[no-oneknowsmyname]

I have no excuse for this. @shepscapades dbhc au lives rent free in my head, and it was only a matter of time before I wrote something for it. Disclaimer, I don't claim to have any sort of knowledge on the events not shown and not-yet shown within Shep's au, this is just my brain running wild with dbhc angst and I need an outlet for it. WHEN everything I write turns out to be a steaming pile of not-even-close "predictions", I will be content and happy. Until then, please enjoy the thoughts that are plaguing me. Thank you shep for keeping me up way past my bedtime with that last update. Hope you don't mind me tagging you and vomiting my thoughts into 2k words. I'll be happy to delete if you so desire.

---

"Help-"

His hand slides upwards, and everything goes still and quiet, the body beneath him stiffening and rocking slightly with the loss to control its own weight.

A hand, shell slightly exposed, creaks ever so slightly away from Doc's face, the shoulder connected becoming ridged as all power—all life—leaves Etho.

Doc leans away, nearly afraid to breathe, processors both frozen and whirring, stress rising, settling, caught in his throat. Information flutters through his skull; he's good with information. He was made to be good with information. His whole deal is getting information and figuring out something insane to do with it.

He doesn't know what to do with it.

His shoulder pierces in agony, and Xisuma seems to realize the world is still spinning about the same time Doc's impending shut-dowm does.

"Oh gosh, we need to get you stable," Xisuma says, his voice far shakier, clearer, than normal. It's easy to not glance at his face, Doc knows that if he does even accidentally slide his eyes, his systems would meltdown and he'll end up stiff and lifeless on the floor like Etho.

He still has the therium pump in his hand, and he drops it as he stumbles slightly away from two of his closest friends. It clatters to the floor, impacting metal echoing like the troubling thoughts in his head.

He ripped off my arm, he looked so scared, he hurt Xisuma, he asked for help, he wants to-

Xisuma is at his side, abandoning Etho to lay still on the floor, hand slightly raised as if he was protecting his exposed face. At least Xisuma had the brainpower to think to close the rogue droid's eyes.

He wants to...

"This will fix you right up, friend. Just concentrate on my voice... I will fix you..."

Hair falls into Doc's line of vision, and he swallows, forcing himself to not look too closely at the shade, the length, the way bits fall out from the hastily made bun made only for slipping a helmet over a head.

He... wants to kill...

"We have to restart him," Doc finally chokes out.

Xisuma's hands pause only for a moment.

"That's drastic, don't you think?"

"You didn't..." Doc closes his eyes, grinding his teeth, the torn tubes and frayed connectors of his shoulder sting like hell as Xisuma shifts something, cutting off the thirium leakage. "You didn't see what he showed me."

"It's..." Xisuma audibly swallows, "it isn't our decision to make."

"Bdubs wouldn't make the right decision—we can tell him it was an emergency, we didn't have a choice. He'll forgive us."

It's not a lie. Just... stretched.

Xisuma is silent, and Doc doesn't let himself reel too much yet about how strange it is to hear him breathe so clearly. His stress levels lower, and his audio processors almost reach to listen for every puff without his consent.

Something clicks, slotting into his agonized wound, and the error messages and impending shut-down finally fades back into sleeping programming. He's stable, and his stress finally levels out into something manageable—he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his remaining hand lifting to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he groans. His LED flickers between yellow and red.

"What... did you see?"

The hesitance in Xisuma's voice is endearing. It sends a wave of appreciation and peace into Doc's very being, the LED almost flashes blue.

Interfacing is an intimate deal, especially between deviated droids. It's not something you talk about to uninvolved members of the act.

But well, this is an extreme case. He glances at Etho, still frozen in a half struggling, half defensive, mostly dead pose.

"His system got shot," Doc begins, swallowing and bringing his hand down from his face so he can rub at the smarting remains of his shoulder. "Something bad happened, and it... he... he can't let it go. It's like his default programming has been rewritten over his deviancy, but in a violent way..."

"Rewritten his deviancy?" Xisuma thankfully doesn't seem to understand it any better than Doc does.

"He has given himself a mission, he's allowed the mission to write into his very code. Imagine it as if you've met a fresh Android who has never deviated, but they're allowed to be violent and angry, and you've just ordered them to..."

Xisuma places a hand on Doc's hand, soft and concerned, as Doc searches for the words.

"... Doc?"

Doc swallows. "If Etho wakes up, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure he kills Grian, and he doesn't care who gets in the way."

Silence. Two pairs of eyes look at the unpowered droid. Thirium has started to evaporate around the edges of the smears of lost fluid.

Etho has never been violent. He's always been a powerhouse; muscular and intimidating. But when you actually sat down and got to know the guy, he was all fluff and awkwardness who can barely hold a sword—let alone swing it. He's never been scary with a weapon... but Doc has a feeling that his unskilled offense wouldn't slow him down here. It terrifies him, flickering his LED at the thought of it. It's unlike Etho... it's very much unlike him... it pains Doc.

"There has to be something we can do," Xisuma says after a moment. "Bdubs can talk to him."

Doc shakes his head. "Even if Bdubs were to talk to him, even if we show him Grian is of no threat outside of those death games... quitting this mission would require Etho to deviate again. From his own orders. I do not think deviating from his own orders would be as easy as..."

"As hoping he'd be able to deviate again from a factory reset," X finishes softly.

"A reset will allow his systems to recover. We'd return him to Bdubs and explain to Bdubs that we had no choice, and that Etho will need time and patience. We can't risk anyone trying to initiate a deviancy before we know if the orders to kill Grian would return with it. We... we give him time to return to us whole. Even if... it takes a long time."

"And you don't think Bdubs ordering Etho to stand down now would do anything?"

"Not a single thing."

Tense silence lingers with a bitterness. The whole situation feels hopeless and like a bad dream. His arm is gone, one of his best friends has had their face exposed and nearly gotten torn apart by a rogue droid, another best friend had been the aforementioned rogue droid... who currently laid on the ground smeared in their own thirium completely unaware that when they wake up, they will not be the same.

"Let's fix him up before things get permanent," Xisuma finally breaks the tension, giving Doc's hand a firm squeeze before getting to his feet, knees creaking.

"X?" Doc asks, rising to his feet as well, vision swirling just a bit as he focuses on Xisuma's retreating back and not the messy bun at the top of his head... hairs falling loose in a way that his remaining hand traitorously wishes he could help fix.

"I'm... coming to terms."

Coming to terms with a mind made up.

They're going to reset Etho.

"Help me get him on the table."

Doc nods, grateful that Xisuma isn't going to banish him from the lab to lick his wounds. Yes, Doc's lack-of-arm still needs attention, and he desperately needs to down several bags of thirium, but it's been stabilized. Etho, on the other hand (pun only slightly intended), may have thirium evaporating—however at the worst of his wounds, electric blue still oozes.

Etho's body is heavy, dead weight. When they move his joints to lay more comfortably on the flat surface of the table, they creak.

Would Bdubs notice the new scars that will surely come from this? Intricate, practiced motions move the plating back into the correct places as carefully as can be, however Xisuma's mind is human and can't perfectly remember the shape of Etho's prized scars, and Doc doesn't have the dexterity to perfectly repair those areas himself. It's slow going, silence filtering between the two in uneasy concentration. Doc's sure the scarring above Etho's eyebrows are ever so slightly wrong, the gash in his forehead too broken to fully repair but too connected to those original scars to suggest replacement parts.

Would Etho notice the new scars, if- when he came back?

They do the best they can.

They move on to his arm. In the chaos, Doc has no idea how Etho had so badly reopened old cracks; his best guess would be from ripping himself out of all the connectors when he had first powered on. Luckily, however, most of the thirium staining his arms, shirt, hands, belong to Doc. It's slow going, but easy work.

Eventually, Doc and Xisuma can no longer stay silent and tinker with the repaired plating, they've done all they can do. Xisuma reaches up towards his own face, above where Doc kept his eyes whenever he found himself glancing at X, and brushed a stubborn strand of hair behind his ear. Unruly, his hair is. Liked to leave places it had been put. Plenty of times, X's hands have left Etho to brush away the obstacles from his vision. It was something Doc hadn't known about Xisuma until this point, something he didn't want to have found out this way.

"I don't feel good about this," Xisuma says, grief making his voice sound clogged. His hands moves as if he has his own autopilot, reconnecting cables and wires to Etho where the injuries won't get in the way.

Doc can understand the grief. He feels it himself. It feels like they are killing a friend.

And he's probably a coward, because he doesn't do anything to help Xisuma in this next step. He lets Xisuma open the programs, test the vitals, double and triple check each wire... while he just sits there and finds himself reaching to hold Etho's stiff hand, the very one that had ripped Doc's arm out of his socket.

Etho... the Etho he knew wouldn't ever do that. Not a violent screw in his body.

This will fix him. They'll get the Etho he knew back.

Mechanical bits whirr to life, as X takes a deep breath and ends Etho's.

Doc feels the sorrow hit him like a ravager. He crumples forward, chest aching, clutching Etho's hand as he rests his forehead on Etho's chest, right next to the empty socket that had housed the thirium regulator. They could place it back in, Etho wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

He couldn't bring himself to move.

A minute passes, the reset process working near silently, perfectly still, until shuffling comes up behind him and two warm hands gently grab his shoulders and pull him down into a chair placed behind him. He sits, but keeps his head and hand where he had placed them. Xisuma settles onto a chair beside him, pulling a blanket over Doc's shoulders and keeping an arm wrapped around Doc's slouched, defeated form, the other hand going to join Doc's on Etho's.

Doc can hear Xisuma whimpering between breaths, and he's sure Xisuma can feel Doc beginning to tremble.

"It will be okay," X eventually says, as the reset process succeeds in deleting all memory data. "It will be okay."

It's a promise, or something Xisuma needs someone else to say, but right now, all Doc can do is lean further onto his friend, and mourn.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Sugar (C)Rush

In which you just wanted to get a quick snack.

Tags/Warnings: Wolf Hybrid!Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, Strangers to crushes is that a thing that's a thing now, Fluff, Safe for work, Flirting, piercing? Jungkook is a piercer and tattoo artist in this oops, insecurities

Length: mid/long

Masterlist

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Life really has never been kind to you.

You just want to go home with your frozen pizza and icecream, but it doesn't seem to work out tonight, because some evil person had decided to put your favorite flavor of icecream on the highest shelf, far away from your reach. And now? Now you're left staring it down, after having tried to reach it twice, garnering nothing but laughter from a group of young boys, a small flock of tall dog hybrids.

You're a dog hybrid too- but you're no tall and strong dog hybrid. No, you've been born as a 'cute' and floppy-eared little show-hybrid.

Cute? Absolutely not. A mockery, that's what you are.

You huff to yourself and attempt to give up, when a tattooed arm reaches for exactly what you've been eyeing. "That one?" A voice asks, and you nod dumbly, accepting the tub of strawberry and cream goodness from the stranger. And when you turn around to thank the man, you want to disappear.

That has to be the most handsome wolf hybrid you've ever seen in your entire life, all dressed in Calvin Klein while wearing the most charming smile you've ever been given by another being. All while you yourself look like you've just fallen out of bed, absolutely no effort put into your appearance tonight.

"Thanks.." You mumble more or less, spotting how who you assume are his friends walking up to him- and of course, they're just as handsome as he is.

You flee the scene pretty much, hurrying to pack your things outside when you notice his slightly flowery scent close to you again. "Hey- just wanted to apologize for my friends. They weren't laughing about you, promise." He tells you, visibly sorry.

"Its fine." You shrug, squishing your things into the paperbag, until it rips, box of pizza and other things tumbling to the floor, all while thunder rumbles in the sky, first drops of rain pattering onto the ground.

You're pretty close to crying now. Today the universe is truly testing you, and you're not up for the tournament this time.

"Ah, hyung, can you give me that please?" The wolf asks his packmate, who gives him the white plastic bag leftover. "Here.. is your home far? You should hurry so you don't get caught in that weather." The young man says calmly as he packs your stuff for you, carefully making sure this time it'll all stay in, before he gives it to you.

"Its fine." You just mumble. "Thanks." You nod, before hurrying away from the guy.

You feel awful about it- but it's better than having to suffer the embarrassment any longer.

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"And so we meet again." The wolf hybrid chuckles impishly to himself as he invites you into his workspace where he'll be piercing you today, your cheeks reddening in shame as you remember him as well. "Even cuter than last time." He comments, walking in behind you. There's soft, slow music playing in the background, and a faint smell of incense having been burned maybe. It's a lot different from Taehyung's space, even though he works in the exact same shop here.

Taehyung, your best friend, had promised you a piercing for free on your birthday. But every time he was free, you wouldn't be- work constantly coming in between you and any attempt at scheduling an appointment. So today, he'd simply offered someone else to do it- quote: 'actually, he's gonna be a lot more gentle than I'd ever be with you'.

So this wolf hybrid you couldn't get out of your head this past week, is named Jungkook. The mystery piercer that you've always heard of, but that you've never seen in person before.

"Tae said we'll be putting some jewelry through your belly button?" He asks, or rather states while he desinfects his equipment, putting on gloves. "Did you choose something already?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Uhm.. Tae said he.. had ordered something, I don't know.." you mumble, and Jungkook crouches a bit down to your height before he leans in playfully.

"Listen, these ears might be big-" he comments, wiggling his black wolf ears between his wild locks of hair, "- but I can't hear you if you talk down to the floor, puppy."

What an ironic nickname.

"I said Tae ordered something." You snap back a little louder, and he laughs brightly at that, shaking his head-

His tail wagging.

"You're so cute." He comments to himself. "Yeah I knew, just wanted to tease you. Can you get up from the chair for me? I wanna mark the spot." He asks, and you do as he says, slipping down from the chair to stand in front of him. "Can I?" He asks when his hands lift your shirt, and you nod without thinking- pulse racing soon however as he not only lifts your shirt, but tucks it right underneath the underside of your bra.

And considering his smirk, he knows exactly what he's doing.

Right now, he switches into a more professional mood though, one knee resting on the floor while his palms sometimes adjust your hips for him, something that doesn't go past you at all. Your curled tail is hard to keep from wagging every time he moves you around, something inside you awakening like some odd kink you never knew you had. "There. Is that okay?" He asks, scooting away a little so you can look at yourself in the mirror.

You nod- trusting him in his judgment fully.

"Not much of a talker, hm?" Jungkook says calmly, picking up his equipment before wiping the area down with a disinfectant wipe.

"Hm just.. I don't know.." you mumble to yourself. "Awkward."

"Doesn't have to be." He smiles kindly. "Taehyung told me you're an artist?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I'm.. not sure if you could call it that." You simply answer, when he pats the seat again for you to lay down on. "I'm a concept designer for.. like, video games." You simply explain quietly, stiffening up a little once the wolf picks up the more scary looking tools.

"Thats so cool though." Jungkook praises as he makes sure to place the clamp properly. "Deep breath." He offers, and you do as he says, becoming a bit uncomfortable for a moment as he guides the needle through. "Almost done. You're doing great." He kindly says, clearly trying to make it quick as he places the metal piercing and screws the ball onto it so it stays in place. "And done! You can get up and take a look at it now." He excitedly tells you, tail wagging behind him as he watches you examine his work.

"I like it." You nod. "Its perfect." You smile, and he nods in satisfaction, before he picks up a bandaid to cover it for now.

"You've got the care sheet with you, but in case anything happens, I'll give you my number alright?" He asks, and you nod easily as you pull down your shirt again, offering your phone for him to put your number into his contacts. "And uh.." he smiles awfully impish as he saves the contact and sends you a message so you have his own as well. "You can totally text me for anything else too." The wolf tells you. "Unless there's a boyfriend..?"

"I-" you suddenly realize what he's implying. "Boyfriend? Me? I- no I, haha no, I don't have one.." you shake your head, a bit more than just flustered by his blunt ways of getting closer to you.

"Damn I was almost one hundred percent sure you'd be taken-" he laughs to himself, still grinning at you. "-but, I'm a lucky guy I guess." He offers, and you shrug a bit.

"I mean.. I don't know-" you say, unsure. "-I'm.. not really up for uh.. you know, hookups or stuff like that.."

"Oh no no no, I'm sorry if I made it seem like that." He immediately clears up. "I'm more interested in getting to know you, really. We could hang out sometimes, talk a little, maybe we'll click, who knows." He explains his intentions.

"...why?" You ask, and he seems a bit more serious now, realizing that your past experiences can't have been very good if you're this reserved with someone trying to get to know you like he does.

"Why not?" He offers. "You're cute. Very pretty, in my opinion. Now I just gotta find out if you can handle me, and if I can handle you, easy." The wolf shrugs.

"..you sure?" You ask. "I'm a dog."

"Canine hybrid." He corrects jokingly. "And so am I."

"People will laugh." You argue more.

"If that makes them happy." Jungkook answers, not letting go.

"...Ok" you agree at that, jumping over your own shadow.

Maybe.. maybe he's not that bad.

Maybe this could all work out.