#i don't have kids for a reason - i don't need grown ones coming at me

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

#tim drake #jason todd #red hood #robin dc #teen titans #comic panels #jason and tim #teen titans 2003 #dc comics #panels are from teen titans (2003) issue 29 #i would never tell anyone they have to read comics but i do think seeing the original scene of fanon favs is good #not because you need to follow them but because its good to know what you're taking inspo from #jason attacking tim at titans tower #LONG POST

[literaila]

worth

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: the past comes back to haunt you, as it usually does.

warnings: angst, allusions to disassociation, hurt/comfort, mama is sad

last part | next part

*

year five.

"wait for me," satoru tells megumi, as soon as he starts walking away. 

you're watching as megumi hangs his head, looking like he'd failed at his one objective--escaping--and turns around, glaring at satoru. 

you've all been out shopping for the past two hours. getting the kids new clothes, shoes, whatever else satoru swears they need... 

honestly, he's kind of cute running around like a maniac from store to store. showing tsumiki a cute dress she could wear, or teasing megumi into trying on a sweatshirt that matches his. 

it's quite possibly the only reason you haven't complained. 

or pointed out that both of the kids are on the verge of whining all the way home. or that he doesn't need to spend 100,000 yen to make them happy. 

"hurry up," megumi tells the man, basically growling at him. 

satoru grins and ruffles his hair, resting a hand on his back as the two of them begin to navigate through the crowd. mostly likely, neither of them knows where they're going. 

you're not even sure where a bathroom is in this district. 

"we'll wait here," you call out, nudging tsumiki. satoru turns briefly to give you a little peace sign, a little grin, and then he murmurs something to megumi you can't hear and they're both gone. 

you're a little worried about them being alone together in this state but you ignore it.

"guess it's just you and me, miki," you say to the little girl at your side. she beams up at you, nodding. "do you want to sit down? how do the shoes feel?" 

"mmm," she looks down, blinking at the sparkly shoes satoru insisted were perfect for her. "they're rubbing at my ankles a little." 

"we can get some new socks, too. that should help. c'mon, i think there's a bench over there." 

she grabs your hand as you begin towards the bench, humming something under her breath. 

you look down to smile at her and don't notice the person walking by, accidentally bumping into them. "oh, i'm sorry, excuse us--" you turn and your entire body lurches away from you. 

for a brief moment, you're not yourself. your conscious moves in an instant, ready to defend itself from everything, anything. you're not yourself, but someone else. someone you used to know very well. 

"i--" you breathe, freezing at the person in front of you. 

tsumiki pulls on your hand a little, confused when you stop suddenly. she looks to the woman standing in front of you, with a bizarre look on her face, and then tsumiki's brown eyes go back to you, her face riddled with curiosity. 

"y/n?"

i don't remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name-- 

you want to forget it all. 

it's clear now, several years later, that you would rather forget everything about her--about this woman standing in front of you, basically a reflection of yourself--than have to do this all over again. then have to face the memories of what she did to you. then put that child through any of it. 

"hi--hey," you say because you have to. 

here's the thing about seeing your mom for the first time in a decade: you can't just pretend you didn't. 

you'd like to turn right around and walk away. you'd like to pretend that you've grown sometime in the past nine years, that you've turned into someone who doesn't need to stay and talk to her. you'd like to think that you're someone who can cut her right out of your life and feel all of the better for it. 

but you're not. 

you can't run away from your mother. you can't apologize for bumping into her and turn around with tsumiki's hand in yours and forget about it. actually, you can't even move right now. 

because there's still this girl inside of you.

there's still this child, a teenager who tried so desperately to earn the approval of this woman and never got it. who tried so hard to be everything that this woman wanted, but could never try enough. 

and she's clinging to your chest right now, breathing into your skin like a toxin, digging her nails into your heart and begging you to try again. telling you that you've got another shot, a chance she couldn't have--

so you can't leave now. not when you owe it to her, to yourself to try, to trick yourself into believing that it was just a fault of your own, that your childhood memories are only the result of some flaws you've already fixed. 

you can't walk away when your mind is stuck on her, her, and--tsumiki. 

your broken eyes turn to her.

your little girl who is standing right beside you, waiting for your next move. if you told her to run, she would. if you told her to stay by your side and say nothing, to hide behind you, she would. she wouldn't even ask you what was going on. 

but for no reason at all, you can't tell tsumiki anything. you can't whisper to her that it's fine, that everything is fine. you can't introduce her or drag her away. 

you can't do anything and it's never felt worse. 

"i thought that was you," your mother says, tilting her head at you. she's staring like this is just a casual bump in. like you're colleagues who haven't seen each other since she went on vacation. "you look... grown." 

you feel naive. there's nothing you can say to this woman to prove to her that you're better than you were. that you're far too good for her.

"thanks," you whisper, even though you know it's not a compliment. it's an instinct to appeal to her. to be polite and perfect.

your mom clasps her hands together. if you were looking at her--which you're not, you wouldn't dare--you might be able to tell that she's uncomfortable with you being there. almost surprised. 

maybe she just assumed that you'd die as soon as you left the comfort of your childhood home. maybe she thought that they would've kicked you out of jujutsu high a day after you arrived, leaving you to starve on the street just like she did. 

"well, how are you?" 

you swallow. "i'm good." 

she nods, and then she looks to your side and finally notices tsumiki there. 

tsumiki, with her precious face, her beautiful brown eyes, and carefully organized hair. 

you're not sure what your mother sees when she looks at her.

you wish more than anything that you could hide her. you don't want your mom's--you don't want this woman's eyes on her. you don't want her to say a single word to your daughter. 

"and who's this?" 

but you can't just send her away. you have no idea where satoru went, and tsumiki can't walk around on her own. not right now, not when you're so preoccupied. 

you just can't walk away. 

tsumiki holds her hand out, just like you taught her. "i'm tsumiki fushiguro." 

"it's nice to meet you," your mother answers, shaking her hand warily like she's certain that she might get an infection from tsumiki's skin. and then she looks at you, not daring to ask what she wants to.

you clench your jaw, wanting to slap her hand away from tsumiki. 

you should've put up a barrier a minute ago. the only possible block between you and a woman who doesn't deserve the pleasure of meeting tsumiki. who deserves no explanations from you. 

but your cursed energy is frozen in place, and you know that if you shut yourself in, you'll never get back out. 

"my daughter," you add, a bit louder now. 

your mom's eyebrows raise immediately and she pauses, looking between the two of you, searching for some useless resemblance. like it isn't obvious that you share a bond, just from the way your hands are intertwined. like it's not obvious that you braided tsumiki's hair, or helped her pick out the shoes she's wearing. 

like it might not be true. 

still, she asks tsumiki, "how old are you?" 

"twelve." 

and you know where her mind goes immediately. thinking that it can't be possible. she knew you when you were twelve, and you certainly weren't pregnant with the little girl standing beside you. you certainly weren't developing any maternal skills locked away in your room, with only the curse that liked to hide in the walls to teach you.

it brings that resentment to the surface of your core, threatening to burst through your skin. you feel suddenly so angry you can't bear it. 

and you're not that girl anymore, you realize. you haven't been since you met nanami and haibara and satoru. 

since you learned that you were only a child and not a trophy that needed to live up to its name. 

"well," your mom sighs, shaking her head. "i can't say this is what i expected." 

"excuse me?" 

"really, what do you know about children, y/n? don't you think you're a little young?" 

tsumiki looks up at you with a frown, about to ask what she means when you stop her. 

you squeeze her hand and look away, into the eyes of the woman who created you--who has that string of biology she just judged you and tsumiki for lacking--and still didn't care. 

she is nothing if not the proof that dna means absolutely nothing. 

"what do you know about children, mom?" you repeat, rhetorically. "at least i know that a ten-year-old shouldn't spend every hour of the day locked in their room, waiting for someone to come let them out." 

"i'm shocked that you--" 

"at least i know that a child is a gift and not a toy to hide away when you get bored of it." 

your mom scoffs. "i can't believe this--"

"neither can i," you say and look to your daughter, who's got wide brown eyes and a confused sort of fear on her face. she doesn't need to hear anything else you have to say to this woman. you smile at her, soft as ever. "go look for dad, okay? he shouldn't be far." 

it's been five minutes, and satoru's probably right around the corner, you rationalize. he's going to come pick up tsumiki and rescue you any second now. 

tsumiki nods immediately, letting go of your hand. she turns to go do what you said, but before she can there's a strong hand on your shoulder, a body right beside yours, and you almost gasp in relief. 

"found him," tsumiki tells you, softly. 

you turn to satoru, wanting to beg him to carry you away from her, to get you away from her--but the words won't come. you're too struck by the view of his face, and the knowledge that when you finally escape from this, he's going to be right there. 

satoru was there the first time, and he'll linger for the second. 

his shaded eyes look back at you, observing for a second, reading your mind, and then he turns. 

megumi is trailing at his side, holding a shopping bag. he looks between this stranger and you, a cautious look on his face. 

tsumiki is telling him something without any words. 

"hello," satoru says, smoothly, breaking the silence. "i don't believe we've met. do you know y/n?" 

your mother frowns, scoffing. "i'm her mother." 

you can see it when satoru reels back, looking between the two of you for a moment, an intense realization on his face. 

maybe he can see the resemblance. the face that might be your own in just a few years. 

or maybe, finally, he can feel the horrors of being raised by her. all of the things you've never dared to tell him. 

you're pleading satoru for something with your eyes but you're not even sure what.

"there's another one?" your mom asks, almost disgusted, as satoru processes. "how old are you?" 

megumi frowns. he walks over to tsumiki, who's already picked up your hand, and asks you: "this is your mom?" 

you nod at him, relieved more than anything that he's there, with the rest of you. and that if you can't explain, satoru will handle it. 

megumi considers it for a second. "are you sure?" 

and you want to laugh so abruptly that it shocks you. you want to grab him by the face and kiss all across his cheeks. 

tsumiki is already smiling at you like she knows this. her grip is strong against yours.

satoru smiles at your mom, a vicious ugly thing. "did you need something from her?" 

"i--no, we just ran into each other," she tells him, seemingly confused by his entire presence. she looks at you. "who is he? another child of yours?" 

satoru licks his lips. "not quite." 

you're about to answer when he grabs your empty hand, shaking his head. "i don't think there's anything y/n needs to say to you," he tells her, coldly. then he looks at you. "is there?" 

"no," you whisper, coveting the feeling of his hand in yours. the two children at your side, who know what it's like to be loved. megumi and tsumiki, who will never feel unwanted, as long as you have a say in it. 

satoru nods, guffly, and turns. "it was a pleasure to meet you," he says, and he moves all of you away. you can almost feel it when he shields the three of you from the rest of the world.

with his hand in yours, the other in tsumiki's, and megumi on the other side of her, satoru leads you all away from her. 

and you let him. because the three of them are more of a family--a better, safer one--than that woman ever was. 

you can't thank them all for being there, being yours, in this moment, but you will. 

at least you know that. 

*

satoru has been watching you for hours. 

since you all got home and the kids' questions began. 

that was your mom? 

yes. 

why haven't we met her before? 

i haven't seen her in a long time. 

was she upset? 

yes. 

why? 

because i'm happier than she thought i'd be, you said, i have a better family. 

are we going to see her again? 

absolutely not. 

after that, the two of them quieted. satoru could tell that they had more questions, that megumi was curious and tsumiki was worried--but neither of them continued. 

it was almost unspoken that you couldn't take much more. that you needed a break from it, even if you wouldn't say. so they both moved on, resuming their usual antics and talking about the clothes they got, when and where they'd wear them. 

well, mostly tsumiki. but megumi entertained her thoughts for a while at least. 

satoru just watched you. the tiny break within your eyes, the gap between you and the rest of the world. you've remained all the same since you got home. cursed energy small, unchanging. your face in one position like it'll kill you to move it. 

satoru can't stand it, but he doesn't want to intrude. he doesn't want you to push him away too. 

so he only sat there, trying to fill your role (which was impossible) at the dinner table. 

and several hours later, after dinner, after space, satoru still hasn't brought it up. 

but he doesn't get the chance to. because as soon as you've put both of them to bed--insisting on tucking them in and talking to them both separately tonight, like you're making up for something--you're sneaking into satoru's room. 

and he's waiting like he always is. his arms are wide open when you walk into the room, and there's not a moment of hesitation before you fall into them. you don't blink or breathe before you're right against him, keeping yourself up with nothing more than blood and bone. 

satoru hugs you close to him, trying to let everything he feels go, just for you. 

(because he's just angry. 

he's angry that she showed up and ruined your day. he's angry that he wasn't there to keep it from happening. he's angry that when he walked over he could tell there was something wrong because you were frozen--because you were almost barren. no cursed energy, no expression. nothing to draw him to you like usual. 

and he's so angry that he can't do anything to fix it. 

so angry that being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age means nothing when he really needs it to. 

satoru isn't a person who hates. he never hated the people who attempted to tie him down as a kid so he couldn't escape observation. he didn't hate toji when he cut him through the throat. he didn't hate suguru for leaving, or yaga for asking why he didn't stop him. 

he doesn't hate. 

but he hates her.

for taking your face and twisting it around. for stealing your childhood and pretending like she didn't. for holding your precious heart in her hands and acting like it was nothing of value.

he hates her.) 

you both sit there, rocking back and forth, sinking together for a moment. 

and then you sniff, and satoru closes his eyes against your head, not sure what to say to make it all better. 

what he can do to erase this feeling from your body. what he can do to prove to you that you're worth so much more. 

"do you think i'm a good mom?" you whisper to him, as he moves back and forth. 

his heart pauses, needing a moment to consider this. to not feel a fire in his soul at the very suggestion. 

satoru pulls back, frowning. and he makes sure that your eyes are on his when he says, "there's not a person in the world who could take better care of them than you do," he swears, feeling like it's the most honest thing he's ever said. 

he wants to brand the words into your skin just so you never ask such a ridiculous question again. 

"thank you," you say, voice breaking, and satoru wipes the tears falling down your cheeks away. each one a different memory, a terrible moment where someone showed you that you didn't matter. 

and when they continue to fall, satoru continues to wipe them away. 

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks, almost hesitating. he's not sure that he can handle hearing about it--but he would if you needed him to. 

"not tonight," you whisper and fall against him again. 

satoru holds you close. 

and he swears, to whoever is listening, that he'll love you enough to make up for that woman. he'll love you enough to make up for everything.

he loves you enough to be sure of it. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #geto suguru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #a typical family

[ultravioletrayz]

soccer dad!miguel who groans at the compromise he's been offered by the club manager. There's no way this was happening.

"I'm sorry, Mr O'Hara, but it's either the two of you organise a reconciliation meeting and remedy your behaviour towards one another, or you're both banned from attending the under 9's Division A league for the remainder of the season." The manager sighs, looking over at your scowling face, before looking back up at Miguel.

By 'reconciliation meeting', the bastard meant a playdate between Gabriela and Tony. And after the dig you took at his failed marriage, and the mistake he made of calling you a slut, Miguel was not fond of forgiving and forgetting just yet. Sure, the idea of having you in his apartment made his dick swell, but it also made his heart pound with dread.

soccer dad!miguel who glances down at Gabriela and frowns. The little girl clings to his leg and sniffles at the idea of her dad, her hero, not coming to her games anymore. Seeing Gabi, who's usually so fierce and self-assured, on the verge of tears over childish bickering with the opposition puts the situation into perspective. The whole reason he got into an argument with you in the first place was for Gabriela's sake. Being there to support his daughter means more than his ego.

In the end, you and Miguel both agree to the prospect of a playdate, although all four of you are wary of what's to come.

soccer dad!miguel who curses under his breath as he holds Gabi's hand and they walk back to the car, his heavy stomps amusing Gabriela to an extent as she giggles at the squelching sound of the muddy grass beneath her dad's clunky shoes. She's nervous about having her nemesis on the pitch at her home tomorrow, so she distracts herself in the familiarity of her dad's petty pout and grouchy, slumped shoulders.

"Aren't you excited to have a new friend, Papa?" Gabriela asks softly, her hand wrapped around Miguel's thick pinky as she tries to keep up with her dad's long strides towards the carpark. "You've been kind of... lonely... since mama left. Maybe this'll be fun for you."

Gabriela is so intelligent for her age, sometimes it scares Miguel with how much of the situation with her mom she could actually comprehend. He doesn't know whether to be proud of his insightful little girl, or ashamed that she's had to learn about such grown-up things so early in life. Perhaps this playdate has come at just the right time. Miguel and Gabriela both need some friends other than each other in this awkward time.

soccer dad!miguel who tries to keep Gabi entertained for the rest of the day so that neither of them dwell on what's to come tomorrow.

Once she's showered and comfortable after her game and the hectic events following it, she and Miguel lounge around on the couch, watching their favourite telenovela together and yelling at the TV screen in unison, giggling and gasping as they eat whatever fruit is left over from Gabi's halftime snack.

soccer dad!miguel who eventually puts Gabreila to bed after their chaotic day. He crouches next to Gabriela's bed, his tall, tan, muscular frame comically towering over the princess-themed bedspread Gabi's smiling face is peeking out of.

He sings to his daughter, his voice low and soothing as he casually straightens a few of the posters of Gabi's favourite footballers hanging up on her wall. Gabriela's eyes begin to flutter, the comforting presence of her dad easing her into a state of relaxation as she whispers to him, cutting off Miguel's lullaby.

"Papa, what if the boy is mean to me tomorrow? I don't wanna mess things up for you." Gabi says worriedly, not wanting to burden Miguel just in case tomorrow's playdate isn't successful and she and Tony remain rough and mean towards one another, like they are on the field.

The thought of that idiot kid being cruel to Gabriela in his own home makes Miguel suck in a sharp breath, but he remains composed and calm as he speaks quietly, a slight smile on his face. "No te preocupes por eso, mija. You matter more to me than anything else. If the kid even tries to bully you, I'll kick his ass."

Gabriela giggles, and Miguel kisses her cheek and watches over his precious angel until she falls into a deep sleep.

soccer dad!miguel who tosses and turns all night, unable to fall asleep. The images in his mind stem from a place of abandonment and loneliness. He shouldn't be this desperate for a big, happy family, but the thought of him, Gabriela, and you together makes his brain fuzzy. He yearns for that emotional connection between him and a motherly figure towards Gabi, his ex leaving him needy for a truly happy family, one without lying and selfishness, The way you care for Tony... he knows you'd treat Gabriela so well.

And he knows you'd treat him so well, too. Miguel's thoughts drift away from what a good mom and life partner you would be as he drifts off into a hazy state of unconscious lust as he dreams of you.

In the morning, Miguel wakes up in a cold sweat, large tears in his pillowcase and a sticky wetness coating his toned thighs. On top of that, there's a relentless ache in his heart. Today needs to be perfect.

soccer dad!miguel who sorts himself out and wakes Gabi up early to tidy the apartment and prepare it for your arrival. Gabriela tidies some of the clutter in her room, while Miguel focuses on cleaning the living room and the kitchen.

As he's putting away some of the clean dishes, Miguel's sharp, red eyes glance down towards the wedding band faintly shimmering on his finger. With how quickly the divorce happened, and how busy he's been taking care of Gabriela all on his own, it had totally slipped his mind to take off the ring.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel takes off the ring that's caused him so much regret, and slips it into his pocket. Gabriela is right, he could use a new "friend".

soccer dad!miguel who straightens out his simple black t-shirt, awkwardly squirming against the weight of the fabric. He feels hot, he feels nervous. It's as if he's a teenager again, his stomach is doing backflips at the thought of having a pretty girl over. But he tries to push those desires of romance and a different kind of "reconciliation" away as he hears the doorbell ring and walks to the door.

Miguel needs to focus on making up for the mean shit he said to a beautiful young lady, and allow Gabriela to make a new friend. This was about Gabi, Tony, and Miguel's need to keep watching his daughter play the game she loves. You're just an obstacle he has to overcome to do so.

Hesitantly, Miguel opens the door with a cautious Gabriela by his side, looking down to see an uneasy smile on your stunning face, and your nephew tugging on your jacket as if he's trying to pull you away so that you can escape before it's too late. Miguel can't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Come in."

PREV. PART, NEXT PART

tagging people in part 3:

@lauraolar14 @mcmiracles @mimiemie @szal0v3r @jadeloverxd @raginghomo62 @faimmm @princesatracionera @keepitreal001 @rxckstarss @ghost-lantern @rhythmloid @lazyjellyfish300 @shadofireshinobi @t4naiis @laufftuhh @grapejuicenads @xxsugarbonesxx @lounilu @kerwin290710 @straw-berry-ghoul @lizaistewdelulu @questionable-behaviour @daddysfavoritesexkitten @kocho-catt @envyjmoney @6thhokageswife @vivianite-is-dead

#ultravioletrayz #soccer dad!miggy #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #miguel x you #miguel o hara #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hi! can you do a percy jackson x daughter of hera!reader? she's supposed to not have children but it would be pretty interesting if she did, and im curious🤍🤍

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader hcs warning: i was about to say none all happy like but literally the second line has 'fuck' so...language author's note: okay okay still rereading rn and i have vague memories of hating hera for some reason that is alluding me but i've made the excitative decision that all of whatever she did that was so bad to piss 12 yr old me off...doesn't exist???? if i ever write anything that agrees with canon, kill me bc it's NOT me yall it is an imposter fr

forbidden girl with forbidden boy????

i like to imagine zeus pissed off hera, as he often does, and she was just like 'okay fuck you' and slept with a marriage counselor

but also connected with him on an emotional level bc like i feel like she needs that??? idk, not a huge fan of hers but whatevas

i just know as the daughter of marriage, you value loyalty about everything else

which is why percy, who's fatal flaw is loyalty, is perfect for you.

you know he's loyal, so loyal it'll kill him

that's the kinda man you need

also, the princess treatment is real

hera has her eyes on you, always

youre her only child, like, ever.

of course she's watching you every second of every day

zeus can't even kill you if he wanted too, hera having grown too fond and would surely destroy all of olympus if he tried

your cabin would have a very soft and pastel aesthetic and honestly percy prefers it to his cabin

also i feel like you would be vegetarian at the least bc like...that's fucked up if you eat cow...like your mom would not be happy with that

if you are, percy goes out of his way to make sure your comfortable

"oh, is that vegetarian?? no?? then get it tf away from me and my precious girl???"

forces (she would do it willingly) sally to fill the freezer with vegetarian snacks just for when you come over

also, you like always look put together.

even in sweatpants and one of percy's shirts, your hair manages to fall in just a perfect way and your eyelashes look like they have mascara on but you don't

just a pretty pretty princess fr

percy goes out of his way to spoil you just because he wants to, no other reason

"why are you giving me a peacock??"

"...do you want it or not?"

"hEY! mr. prince would like you not to refer to him as an 'it' anymore." you huff, crouching down and instantly pulling the peacock into your arms, cooing at him gently

"wait, wait, you can talk to it??"

"HIM!"

"WHATEVER"

so in love

also your father??? best man ever

loves percy

loves you

in that order too

jk jk i kid

not really tho

he's just a man who's really in touch with his emotions and he was just such a good father to you, subtly making you comfortable with the concept of greek gods and whatnot as a child

also, jason and thalia?? best step siblings ever

they just welcome you into the family without even thinking about it

one second you weren't there and then the next you were.

when percy comes around asking for permission to marry his daughter, your father just smirks and shakes his head at percy

"you're asking the wrong parent, percy."

which is exactly what percy didn't want to hear

he didn't want to talk to your mother, the GODDESS AND PERSONIFICATION of marriage, about marrying her only daughter.

surprisingly, hera took it pretty okay, instantly gushing about how pretty you'll look at your wedding.

percy joined in and then it was just the two of them raving about how pretty you were

which was a topic percy could talk about all day

actually, anything to do with you, could leave him yapping for days or weeks or months

that's just how enamored he is

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

[lowkeyremi]

Hi there!! I’ve read some of your works I they’re really good- you’re so talented and amazing 😭✋🏾

Bakugou x reader where he slips reader a letter telling her to proofread his letter to Santa and she’s like:??? but doesn’t judge bc she loves him, and it says that he’s asking Santa for a wife 😭🥰 and then when she looks down he’s on one knee 🥺

All I want for Christmas is You k. bakugo x fem!reader

a/n: THIS IS SO CUTE OMG IM GIGGLING STOPPPP i was about to say at his grown age he got a santa list but it made more sense after I read the rest :3

content: fluff, established relationship, bakugo is silly

The old grandfather clock that Katsuki insisted he needed chimes loudly to announce the arrival of the next hour. You were in the kitchen getting a little snack before winding down for bed.

As you continued preparing your snack your boyfriend made his presence know in the kitchen with his humming.

"What's that?" He asks looking over your shoulder.

"I'm trying something new." You explain, taking a look at it for yourself. Honestly, you don't know what to call it. His eyes travel down to your feet where he can see you aren't wearing socks or your house slippers.

"How many times do I have to tell ya to wear something on your feet? You'll get sick." He complains for the umpteenth time this week.

"Mhm I know. I need you to be quiet you're breaking my concentration." He finds it cute how your tongue is slightly poking out as you try to frost this.. interesting looking cupcake.

"Doesn't look like ya put much effort or thought into it but okay..." He clicks his tongue and you elbow him in the stomach. Of course it doesn't hurt though, because he's built like a marble statue.

"Anyways, I need you to read over this when your done. It's my wish list to Santa." You don't respond right away, waiting to see if he's going to say he's joking or something, but he doesn't. You put down the frosting bag and stare deep into his soul.

"Are you serious? I thought Santa wasn't real. At least that's what you told Denki and ruined his Christmas." You recall last year's Christmas party when Katsuki harshly broke the news to Denki. The blond had a mental break down.

"I've reconsidered what I'd said before. He's real 'n I've been real good this year so hopefully I'll get what I wished for." He emphasizes that for some odd reason.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that. Remember when you verbally assaulted that kid who said you look like a mean Pokémon character?" He grumbles something that you don't quite catch but you get what he means.

"Just read it." He says with a roll of his eyes. You stare at him once again.

"Ughhh be happy I love your ass. I have to stop my cupcakes to read a santa list??? How old are you five?" He knows you aren't mad which is why he holds out the red envelope for you to take.

He watches you intently as you gently tear open the envelope. You pull out a piece of paper, which reads:

Dear Santa,

It's me. Bakugo.

The only thing I want for Christmas is a pretty wife who will stay with me through thick and thin. Who's also annoying and banned from going to sleep after me because of her terrible pranks.

Thanks.

As you finish reading it you're in shock. You lower the letter from your view to see your boyfriend on one knee, a pretty ring being presented to you in a very exquisite box.

"So.. will you help Santa out? Make my wish come true?" He's shaking and he looks so vulnerable it touches your heart.

You already know your answer but who would you be if you didn't give the man a run for his money.

"Well I don't know, Santa still needs to receive the letter then he'll probably come to me and we'll talk." You say crossing your arms. Katsuki glares at you and you smile back.

"Of course I will!! I mean who else would do it if not for me?" He rolls his eyes so hard you feel it.

"I could get anyone to marry me in seconds." He scoffs while putting the ring on your finger.

"All this talk and it took you 7 years to finally pop the question." Before he even gets another word out you lean down to press a soft kiss onto his lips.

"Merry Christmas, hubby." You say with a snort.

"Way to ruin a romantic moment and hubby is not going to be a new nickname."

jokes on him hubby stuck around for a long time :3

#bnha #mha #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader

[atimeofyourlife]

A family Thanksgiving

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates! rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents

The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.

"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.

"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.

"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.

"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."

Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.

When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.

"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"

"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."

"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.

"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.

Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.

"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.

"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.

"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.

After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.

"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.

"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.

"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.

"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."

"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.

"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."

"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"

"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."

"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.

"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.

"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.

"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.

"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.

"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.

"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."

"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.

"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."

"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.

"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."

Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.

Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.

"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.

"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.

Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.

"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."

Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.

"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."

"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."

"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.

"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"

"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."

"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"

"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."

"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."

"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.

"But, mother-" His father started.

"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."

"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."

"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."

"Mother,"

"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."

Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.

"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.

"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."

"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."

"Grandma." Steve protested.

"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.

Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.

"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"

"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."

"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"

"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."

"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."

"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington has bad parents #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #atimeofyourwrites

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Northern Attitude

Next chapter

a/n guilty... guilty... guilty... I caved in. I own up to my weaknesses. Promised myself to never write for this man and here I am now. This is my first time so be gentle. 🗡️🫧

summery: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: injuries, blood, bleeding out, alcohol, needles, death, trauma fun stuff.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You two hated each other. That was a fact, and there was no way around it. It was scowling glares, sharp jabs during training if you two were paired together, and bitter remarks thrown here and there. And the joy of it all was that Price had granted you a shared room on the base. First, the excuse was that there was simply not enough room; the team had grown. Then he said he wasn't having a team that was up on biting each other's necks out. So in conclusion, he had set it up on purpose.

Did it help? No. It was a disaster. The man was insufferable. And, in all honesty, you had no idea what you had done. You had thrown a sexist card at him multiple times because you simply couldn't find another reason for his unmeasured dissatisfaction as to why you shouldn't be here. Never had he said anything nice your way. You got it; the guy was secretive. You didn't need to look far. The fact that he never took his mask off was proof enough. But to be so against someone you didn't even spend time with?

"Clean your mess", Ghost huffed, dropping his wet towel on the bed. You lifted your head away from your book. At least you two had separate beds on the opposite sides of the room. "It's on my side", you said, pointing to the white line that Ghost had drawn on the floor like a kid the first night you dragged your stuff here. The rule was simple: you stayed on your side, he on his. The bathroom was the only exception. "Yeah, I have to look at it, don't I", he grumbled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. You paid him no mind, your eyes turning back to the pages. "Poor you, does it mess with your posh tea time?", you chuckled under your breath, earning a growl from the other side of the room.

And that's how it went. More than not, you considered any word coming out of Ghost's mouth a win. Because a new tactic the asshole had adopted was pretending that you weren't even a thing. You were an actual ghost, and Simon didn't believe in the paranormal clearly. You fastened your vest, double-checking that your on-hand weapons were right where you wanted them. "Do you need me to do a touch-down for you?", your head darted up, only to be met with a smug-looking scot. Soap. You couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle. "Do you think that if you keep asking, the answer will eventually change?", you snickered back, shaking your head. Soap shrugged. "You tell me, bonnie?", the man teased back. Leave it to Johnny to joke around right before a mission. You hummed, "Maybe I'm more into you undoing it", Gaz snickered somewhere in the back. Soap's smirk grew even bigger. You knew that it was all good fun. Neither of them would make a move. They respected you. To most, you were like a sister. They had become your family. One you never had. Before Soap could say anything in return, the back door swung open, and in strolled Ghost. God, he looked good. Six feet of pure muscle. And when this man was in his full gear... You allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the way he looked before dropping your gaze. Suddenly, you were way more interested in the guns on the table than anything else.

Johnny came to stand next to you as the team gathered around the table. Price loved to gather everyone around before it all went off. John was like a father to most. You were no exception. You liked to tease the boys that you were his number one. His girl. And well, by law, you were. Considering that he pulled you out of the foster home, you owned this man a lot, even if he said that it was all in the past.

"You know the drill; go in, grab what you need, and get out. Try to keep it clean", Price said, pulling three sheets of paper and scattering them around on the table. "Soap and Ghost, you're together. I'll go with Gaz. Sugar, you're alone on this; we will clean the path for you, though". It was supposed to be a joke that name. You wanted something cool. Something as cool as Ghost, but Johnny was quick to remind you that his nickname was soap "And sugar", He had said, "That's quite literally white death". So it stuck.

You nodded your head, only to find Ghost shaking his. "Got something against it, LT?", you snarled. His eyes met yours over the table. With the war paint, his eyes were even more radiant. "She can't go alone. She doesn't know how to hold herself back and will do something stupid", now it was your turn to growl. Scratch the fact that you found this man attractive. You will suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep when you return to base. "Want to go with her, Ghost?", Price said calmly, knowing full well the answer would be a hard no. "We meet in the safe house afterward", Price continued without acknowledging the death glare Ghost was wearing, "Come back in one piece, you bunch". Everyone nodded quietly, reaching for the masks, double-checking the cartridges and radios. You were all climbing into the motorcar when Soap nudged your shoulder. "I'll hold you to the undressing part", he winked, hurrying to sit down. Your anger simmered down as you flipped him off in return, his laughter booming. It was Ghost, whose unimpressed eyes followed you two, gripping the gun in his hands tightly as he chose to stare ahead.

It was nothing—the mission. The base that needed to be checked out was pretty much abandoned. A couple of kills. A smoke bomb here and there. It was easy. Simple. They laid a clear path for you to do your thing. Your small frame was what they needed here. Air vents weren't the best of friends with hulky soldiers. "Do your worst, Sugar", Price had muttered into the radio some time ago. Your response was a cold, "Copy". The four of them were left to watch over the main entry points. Yet sending you into the belly of the beast felt wrong. At this point, Simon had lost count of the number of times he had reached for his radio, ready to call out to you. But he talked himself out every time.

"Got it", your voice pierced the silence. Ghost's shoulders drooped. "Good girl, bring it home", Price called back. Soap looked out of the window, "We should go meet them at the-", but his voice was cut by the cracking that came from the radio. Then it all died down. Silence. Soap locked eyes with Ghost. "Price, you copy?", Soap called out. Silence struck again. "All good here, you copy?", the captain called out. "Positive", Ghost muttered into the radio. Gunshots echoed deep within the base. It was you. The noise had to come from you. Ghost felt his heartbeat picking up. He had to find a way to get to you. To cover you. Yet the rational side of his brain screamed at him, saying that there was no way for him to do so.

The crackling filled the air around him once more as they rushed toward the spot where the team had agreed to meet. "Abort", your breathless voice came through the radio. "Get your asses out", you were panting. Ghost could hear you reloading your gun. "Sugar, what's the situation?", even Price's voice sounded more panicked. And the old man kept his cool. They all did. This whole shit could have been a setup for all they knew. Even outside, the sound of bullets pierced the silence didn't ease. Simon wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but your labored voice still twisted at his heart, "Get. Out."

The safe house had never felt so quiet. Usually, at least Soap was a never-ending chatterbox. Now the male stood in front of the window. Not moving. His eyes were glued to the forest in front of him. Price was half a bottle down on the bourbon. Gaz's leg hadn't stopped bouncing. They all had minor bruises, but that was expected.

"We need to go back", Soap said, rubbing his palms together. "You know that we can't, Johnny", Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. He was no doubt thinking of ways he was going to break the news to his wife. "She wouldn't fucking leave us", Soap snarled back. You would expect a handful of army men to be able to hold their composure in situations like this, but... You had dragged them all out of a dark pit. You were undoubtedly good at what you did, yes. But you offered much more. The safety blanket. A proper homemade meal when there was time, and that was a lot for a man who had been stuck in the base for months, missing home. There had been so much more laughter and smiles since you joined the force. As if you had breathed back humanity and a sense of life into their ice-cold bones. And now they all had to go back to...

The handle of the back door creaked. All four of them reached for their guns in unison. But no one besides them was supposed to know where the keys had been stashed. A lucky coincidence? The odds were too slim. But the door jerked open, and they all lost the breath they were holding.

"What a fucking greeting", you muttered, dropping your helmet to the side. Soap moved toward you first. Simon would have loved to beat him to it, but he found himself sitting back down, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly. "Here", you yanked the chip from your vest, pushing it into Soap's hand. "Mission complete, captain", you eyed Price. Before moving to undo your gear. "How many?", John asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. The blood on your forehead was crusted. But the sound of drops hitting the wooden floor was constant. "Six", you breathed, moving to undo your vest, and that's when the first growl left your lips.

"You're bleeding", Johnny breathed, reaching for your shoulder, but you pulled away. "I'll lick my own wounds", your tone was cold. It was colder than it usually was. Ghost watched you slowly walk towards the stairs, but not before you had reached for the Bourbon. "I'll come to stitch you,", Price had called out, only to be harshly cut off with a harsh, "No".

You locked the doors behind yourself. Your vision was going hazy. You had managed to get away. You had no idea how because there had been a moment when you were sure that death was standing right behind your back, breathing at your neck. You had killed before, had blood sprayed all over you. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that there was a moment where you weren't the one in control. When they had managed to yank you across the floor by your ankle. You shivered at the image of a knife being jabbed on either side of you as you dodged blow after blow.

Your hands gripped the sink. You will do this. You will patch yourself up. Swallow a couple of pills and go to sleep. You knew there was no way you were getting your shirt off, so you wasted no time as you sliced the fabric with your pocket knife, wincing. Slowly peeling the damp material from your shoulder. Would this be easier if someone else did it for you? Yes. But you didn't want anyone's hands on you. Not now. Not when your brain was still fuzzy. The trickle of blood ran down your chest and through the sports bra you had on. You knew what followed next. You've done it multiple times. Drink bourbon. Splash some on the wound. Dig the fingers in to fish for the bullet. More bourbon. Stitch it up. You ran yourself through the steps one more time. One more look in the mirror before you force yourself to do just that.

Simon's hands were gripping the chair he was sitting on. Every little whimper from upstairs ripped at his composure. Stubborn girl, never knowing how to accept help. And a whimper, a whimper he could handle, but when a loud cry filled the quiet space, Simon was up and going. Every other step was skipped, and he was right in front of the second-floor bathroom. Hand on the handle as his shoulder hit the locked door. "Open up", Ghost banged his fist into the surface. "Go away", your voice was barely audible. Too long. He had sat downstairs for too long. He should have come barging in the moment you tried to play a big girl. Should have carried you back downstairs. "Don't make it bloody difficult", Simon's voice was husky. His own body ached, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch you bleed out.

You didn't answer him. "Sugar", he called out, "Open the fucking door, or I will break it", he wasn't even sure why he was bargaining with you now. But he respected your privacy. He always did. Even in the room you shared. His face was always facing the wall when he knew you were taking a shower. Just in case you had forgotten your clothes and would need to quickly get to your side of the room, this was different; his stalling could cost you your life. So he doesn't say anything else. Backing a couple of steps back, Simon braced himself for the impact. The hinges were old, so one shove from him was enough to break them; the rest he could handle with his two hands.

Ghost's breath hitched once more. "Stubborn, bloody woman", he hissed. The floor was covered in your blood; there was not a single clean towel. Your figure was slumped by the bath. "Price", his voice was more of a roar that made even you jerk your head up. "Get out", you breathed, trying to put distance between you two. "Like fuck, I will", Simon grunted, reaching towards you, his palm pressing into your shoulder. You cried out, your nails digging into his wrists, but the pressure didn't ease. "Fucking hell", the captain called from behind, "Get her downstairs".

"No", you hissed as Ghost lifted you, "Get away". But you knew that it was over now that they'd seen you. Simon tried to lower you down, but you whizzed in pain. "From the back", you say through gritted teeth. "What?", His eyes searched yours; you knew he was struggling to understand you. "The bullet", your breath, "from the back". Simon's eyes darted up to John, who slowly nodded his head, "Keep her up, then", and you could feel him pulling the rest of your shirt off.

"Liquid courage", a bottle was dangled right in front of you, and you could just about make out Soap's shaky hands. "I don't need it", you muttered, feeling the way Simon's chest rumbled with a disapproving growl. "Don't fight it, kid", Price called out from behind you, "You know how it's done". He was looking through the medical bag, no doubt making sure that he had everything he needed on hand. You open your mouth, and Soap quickly takes the hint, tilting the bottle upwards.

"Bite this and hold onto Simon's shoulders for me", the captain delivered his words like an order, but you still shook your head. "Jesus women, do you have a death wish or something?", Ghost muttered, hands moving from your legs that were still wrapped around his torso to your hands, pulling one of them over his shoulder and the other, the injured one, across his torso, so Price could work on it easier. But your palms stay pushed away from his skin. So does your chest. He was too close. You couldn't. Simon doesn't like his personal space being occupied by anyone.

"Deep breath for me", was the only last warning John gives you before you feel a pain like no other ripping through your back. And that was all it took. All it too, for your hands to clamp around Simon. Nails were in his skin as you yelled out, trying to pull away from whatever Price was doing. Simon's big palm cupped the back of your head, guiding you down onto his shoulder. "You got this, love", he muttered against your ear. The grip he had on you did not falter, not even for a second. "Almost there, Sug, just a bit more", Price said through gritted teeth. You could feel him digging through your back. The burning icy cold now.

Your body was working on its own accord. Hand reaching for the side of Ghost's face as another wave of pain ripped through you, making you holler out. Simon didn't pull away. And maybe you were high on pain, but you could swear you felt his lips against your palm. Kissing your skin through the material of his mask. Your breathing got shallow. You wanted to pull back to look up at him. Into his eyes. At least one more time. But your body felt heavy. Your fingers gently caressed the side of his face. The smell of him calmed you. You pressed a weak kiss against his neck, feeling a shiver running down his back.

"Keep her talking, Simon,", Price grumbled in frustration. Something probably wasn't going how it was supposed to. But it was okay. You had made your peace with it. "Come on, look at me", Simon pulled your limp head away from his shoulder, tapping your cheek a couple of times. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Or I'll leave my wet towels all over our room for the rest of the month", there was a tinge of something new in his voice. Some kind of light worry. Frustration. You blinked a couple of times, the corners of your lips turning upwards. "You wouldn't dare", you rasped out, your mouth feeling way too dry all of a sudden. "Why is that?", Simon asked straight away, his eyes not leaving yours. You let yourself breathe for a bit; you didn't have enough strength to answer right away. "I'll get you pink sheets and...", a cough made your body seize, and Ghost's grip on you tightened instantly. And there. There it was. A flash of worry caught his eye. "A fuzzy rug", you finished finally. Simon's palm ran over your sweaty forehead. "I'd like to see you try, darling", he breathed out, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"She's too fucking pale, Price", you heard Soap's voice from the side, or at least it sounded like it. "Shut up, Johnny,", the captain grumbled. "Don't close your eyes, Sugar", you felt another nudge from Ghost, making you blink up at him once more. "It's cold", you muttered, feeling your hand slip down his torso, falling limp by your leg. "John", Ghost said in a warning tone. He was trying to make you hold back on him, but your hand slipped away every time.

It was the way your hand limped against Simon's face that sent the last wave of panic through him. Your clammy skin pressed against him. And he was back there, back in the house where his family was killed. No, he couldn't lose you. Not now that he had found you. Not without you knowing that he also cared, just like everyone else. "Y/N", he called out softly. He had never called you by your real name. Never had a chance to see if your eyes would shimmer when he did. "Don't do this", he breathed again your not injured shoulder, "Don't you dare fucking die on me". But he was met with nothing. Only then did he realize that he would have to live with nothing but regret and your blood on his hands. All because he couldn't find a way to let your light shine through his cold demeanor. All because he was afraid of the fact that he had found himself caring again.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost cod image #ghost cod x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader #simon riley x reader

[grandlinedreams]

|| uhh i forgot the mating bond is just kind of a feelings/vibe pathway rather than talking so just assume reader is Daemati or smthing idk i'm too lazy to fix it and it's part of the fic

|| warnings: enemies(ish?) To lovers, mating bond fic, angst, some pining, cursing, nsfw ㅡ oral (f & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, piv unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), breeding kink

You'd always been a sucker for fairytales.

You'd grown up on a healthy dose of them, tales repeated over and over with the weary affection of your mother as you clamored for them again. 

And what young child wouldn't enjoy stories of knights and dragons and damsels in towers? Where the villain was always clear cut, good and bad measured in black and white.

Too bad the real world never dealt with such things. No, there was no prince to kiss you from a death-like slumber, no knight to rescue you from a tower.

But there is a Cauldron, the Mother ㅡ and whatever gods exist to laugh at the hand that they've dealt you.

That's the only reason you can think of as to why you, part of Rhysand's Inner Circle, can only stare in mute disbelief at Eris Vanserra as the mating bond, mocking you with the idea of shimmering gold, snaps into place. 

“Are you done moping yet?” 

“For the last time, Mor,” you huff as you turn the page of your book, “I'm not moping. I'm busy.” 

“Busy,” Mor mocks. “Looks like moping to me. You need to stop hanging out with Az so much.” 

She waits all of two minutes before she's moving towards you, knocking the book out of your hands to drape herself across you like a contented housecat. “Come on, you need to live a little.”

“I'm four hundred and fifty years old,” you counter, hating the way a smile twitches at the corners of your lips. “I think I've lived quite a lot so far.”

“Being a bore with books and training isn't living,” Mor protests with a huff. “You've been acting weird for the last two decades, don't deny it.” 

You freeze. “I have not.”

Honey brown eyes meet yours. “Have too. You've been acting weird ever since that run in withㅡ” 

You slap a hand over her mouth. “Don't,” you hiss, then recoil. “Did you just lick my hand?” 

Mor grins as you wipe your hand on the couch before she eyes you, brow furrowing.

“Seriously,” she says, her expression sobering. “Did he do something? Because you know Rhys would want to knowㅡ” 

“No, Mor.” You push her off of you and stand. “He didn't do anything.” 

Left, right, dodgeㅡ

“Somebody's in a mood,” Cassian pants as he narrowly avoids your fist to his jaw, his eyes gleaming as he studies you. “Normally I have to drag you out here to train.”

“You don't have to drag me anywhere,” you fire back, pushing hair out of your eyes. “Just felt like it was time for a tune up of hand to hand.”

“And I get to be the lucky punching bag? I'm honored.” Cassian straightens, and you hate the way he studies you ㅡ the way Mor did, equal parts concern and curiosity. “Are you okaㅡ”

“Cauldron boil me, I said I'm fine!” You know it isn't fair to snap at Cassian, but you've felt off kilter all morning ㅡ since Rhysand had told you of the impending arrival of Eris ㅡ presumably to discuss the ever shifting agreements in the tentative allyship with him. 

Just hearing his name had put you off of your breakfast ㅡ not out of indignant disgust, though you wished it were. Anything but the traitorous lurch of the bond you'd hoped would bury itself and remain forgotten. 

Mate, it whispers, an adder coiled in the back of your mind. Your mate. 

Only if it snapped in place for him too, you remind yourself viciously. Only if you accepted it. 

And you won't. Not now, not ever.

“There you are.”

You force yourself not to freeze, turning slowly to lock eyes with the one person you'd been doing your best to pretend wasn't staying in your home. 

Eris eyes you, and the lazy trace over your legs and back up makes you want to slug him and preen in equal measure, the latter only adding to your mounting irritation. “What do you want, Eris?” 

He huffs, eyes gleaming. “Now, is that any way to talk to a guest?”

Pretentious asshole. Your teeth clench hard enough you think something might pop as you exhale. “My apologies,” you grit out, “how can I help you?” 

Eris’ eyes gleam, and you get the distinct impression that he's laughing at you. Not just at you, but at the shimmering coil in your head that sings in his proximity. 

He approaches and you take one wary step back after the other until your back meets smooth wall ㅡ and Eris is in front of you. He's devastatingly handsome, staring at you with an intensity that makes you want to punch him.

It also makes you want to ㅡ no. No. 

“Back off,” you hiss. 

“Or what?” He's taunting you. “If i were a lesser male, I'd think you'd been avoiding me.” His eyes glitter as he leans in. To anyone who could stumble upon the scene, it'd look…intimate. “But that can't possibly be what you're doing, right?” 

You should hit him. Tell him to fuck off, to get away from you ㅡ to leave entirely. You hate how he eyes you, the simmering song that your veins respond with in kind.

“Come on, little rabbit,” he exhales, voice low and almost a purr. “Where are those teeth you showed me last time?” 

You snarl, hand fisting into his shirt ㅡ and you yank him to meet your lips. It's an aggressive kiss across the board, teeth and tongue as he shoves you further against the wall, and you hate how something in you purrs at the pressure. 

This, at the very least, is horribly familiar. His touch is not unknown on your body, the snake of warm fingers against your sides so eerily similar to the handful of rendezvous so many years ago, a lifetime ago, before ㅡ 

Mate. A bond untethered, unanswered ㅡ and icy water douses the ignition of flame in your lower belly, sours the warm lips against your neck. 

“Get off me,” you rasp, ripping yourself free. “The next time you touch me, I'll cut your hands off.” 

“I want to get drunk.” 

“Hello to you too,” Mor blinks up at you, studying the tension in your shoulders. “Any special occasion or…? I feel like I should intervene if this is going to be a bad idea.” 

“Since when have you turned down a reason to go to Rita's?” 

Mor only frowns at you, then gentles her tone as she sets a hand on your shoulder with a call of your name. “Tell me what's going on,” she murmurs. “You've got us all worried, babe. Talk to me.” 

You debate telling her to forget it, to take it out in the training ring or to simply take a good, long walk along the Sidra ㅡ and then Mor presses gently, “Is it Eris?” 

You tense further, and she looses a curse. “I knew it was a bad idea to have him stay here. If he put his hands on youㅡ” 

“Mor,” you cut in. “It's not…not like that. Not anymore.” One eyebrow raises at the anymore, curious as she watches you. You exhale slowly. “My mating bond snapped into place.” 

Her eyes widen, and you can't stand the sympathy in her eyes ㅡ the idea that you're a star-crossed lover, helplessly in love with someone you aren't Cauldron-bound to. If only ㅡ perhaps you could handle that a little better than being bound to the person you are in love with. 

Who's never shown a hint that the bond has snapped into place for him. Never wanted you for more than the intervals of hands and teeth, murmured filth and promises that'd made your toes curl ㅡ and been all too happy to pretend you didn't exist except for those moments. 

“Oh,” Mor says, and your chest aches. She, of all people, knows how Eris is ㅡ and the way she stares at you makes it worse. “Oh, honey.”

She doesn't coddle you, because there are no tears to shed ㅡ you buried those along with your end of the bond, thrown a shield around it, tried to forget. You had no Prince, no Knight. 

(You'd never been good at being a damsel, anyways.)

You don't know what Mor says to the others, but you don't really care when it lands you at Rita's, snug between Cassian and Azriel and all too happy to drown your woes in the sharp tang of alcohol. 

You don't need coddling or pampering ㅡ you know what you need, and it drives you from the safety of your brothers, joining Mor to chase the pounding thrum of music. 

You're not sure when you end up with an unfamiliar Fae male's hands on you, only that you simply grin and welcome the advance, the simmering promise in his eyes to give you what you need to forget the ache in your chest ㅡ at least for tonight. 

And maybe tomorrow. And perhaps the next ㅡ whatever and however long it took for Eris to leave, to let you bury that bond back down where it belongs. 

It's as his lips are brushing over your neck that he's wrenched away from you and you blink, admonishment on your lips ㅡ and it dies a quiet, quick death at the absolute fury blazing in Eris Vanserra's eyes. Not at you, no ㅡ at the male who'd been touching you.

“Get your rutting hands off of what isn't yours,” he all but snarls, and you watch as the male disappears back into the crowd before Eris is focusing on you. “And you. Come with me. Now.” 

Some of the drowsy edge of alcohol is beginning to wear off, and you blink before your eyes narrow. “No.” 

A muscle in Eris’ jaw jumps. “We need to talk.” 

Defiance ignites in your veins, fueled by alcohol, the ruined distraction (from the very male before you), and the irritation that he won't just leave you alone. 

But maybe this is what you need ㅡ that final nail in the coffin, the claws to finally dig the bond out by the roots and get rid of it once and for all. 

So you grit your teeth, shoving hard against the ache of your chest as you bite out a flat, “Fine.” 

The trip back to the House of Wind is silent, tension rolling off both of you in waves. Eris doesn't so much as look at you, but the set of his jaw says he's still pissed. About what, you don't know ㅡ he's the one who came to crash your little party, acting as though he has a right to you.

He doesn't. The only claim he can say he has is the times he's made you cum on his fingers. You refuse to look at him, to entertain whatever self-righteous game he thinks he deserves to play. 

This is your home, not his. Regardless of how tonight ends, you will not be the one leaving. 

Somehow, be it for better or worse, you end up in your room. Eris surveys it, taking in all the little pieces that make this yours, then turns towards you.

Arms crossed over your chest, you raise an eyebrow. “Well? Talk, or get out. I don't appreciate you ruining my night.”

Anger flares, smoldering as Eris offers a terse, “I don't appreciate you letting other males touch you like that.” 

You scoff. “You don't get to boss me around, Eris,” you hiss. Your voice is sharp. “You make it sound as if you're my mate.” 

Eris’ eyes blaze, the flicker of flame at his fingertips as he snaps back, “Because I am, damn it!” 

You freeze. 

Eris, so much like the wildfire he embodies, keeps going. “I'm trying not to act like some feral animal, but you make it so hard not to when you parade around like that, it makes me want toㅡ” He cuts himself off. 

The silence between you is brittle, cracking under the strain of things unsaid ㅡ and then you break the silence.

“Makes you want to do what, Eris?” A gentle, tentative tug at that bond ㅡ reeling at the presence on the other side, an answer after decades of silence. 

His eyes lock with yours as he steps towards you. This time, you don't take a step back. “It almost makes me want to apologize to everyone who's about to hear you scream my name.”

You don't respond, but you don't have to. The shiver ripples through the bond, the blown quality of Eris’ pupils before he pounces. 

His mouth is hot against yours, demanding in ways both familiar and not as you moan, fingers digging at your hip before you're backed against the wall next to your dresser. Something clatters to the floor, but you can't bring yourself to care about anything but the wedge of Eris’ leg between your own. 

He licks into your mouth, muffling the choked sound as he grinds his thigh up against your core. You shudder at the spark of pleasure that ignites, a reflexive jerk of your hips to chase it as Eris nips at your jaw. 

“Tell me how many others have seen you like this,” he murmurs darkly against your skin, “so I know how many times to make you come so you'll forget anyone but me.”

You want to answer, you truly do ㅡ but he takes your beat of silence as a prompt to tense his thigh, and it wipes your mind blissfully clear of anything but the molten warmth pooling between your legs. 

It should be embarrassing, rutting against his thigh like some desperate animal in heat, but Eris meets every tiny noise that leaves your lips with approving nips of teeth in your skin and the wander of his hands to pull at your clothing until he meets bare skin. 

His fingers work from your hips to your navel, then to your ribs ㅡ and then he's pinching at your nipples, turning them to achingly stiff peaks as you groan and rock your hips harder against his thigh. 

And then he's slipping it away, leaving you to tremble and pant as you watch him. He could leave you like this, desperate and aching ㅡ and his eyes darken in answer before he's backing you against the dresser. More things clatter to the floor, but Eris doesn't give you time to care with the way he lifts you onto the now empty surface.

His mouth is hot against your neck, drifting to your collarbone, then to your chest ㅡ nipping and sucking marks you're sure will bruise ㅡ and then your abdomen, your core clenching around nothing when you realize his intent.

Lacquered wood creaks in protest beneath the hard curl of your hands on the dresser, fighting the urge to dig your hand into Eris’ hair as he takes his sweet time sucking marks into your thighs. “Eris,” you huff, head spinning with heady arousal and the remnants of alcohol, “please.” 

That deceptively soft mouth pauses as he looks up at you, eyes wildfire-bright. “Oh,” he murmurs, “say that again.” 

You blink before there's the barest drag of his tongue against your folds, prompting a sharp gasp and a whine when he doesn't repeat it.

“Come on,” he coaxes, watching you in a way that makes you want to smack him. Your frustration must echo down the bond, because all he does is laugh. “Manners, darling. Manners.” 

You squirm as he nips just shy of where you want him, and you groan. “Please,” you exhale, and Eris smirks.

“Much better.” 

And then his tongue is on you before you can curse at him, lips parting around a moan as he begins to work at your aching core. Your hand finds his hair at the same time that he flicks his tongue over your clit, and the answering groan that you get makes your eyes roll. 

Despite never having had his mouth on you like this before (not for lack of want, truly), Eris seems to know how to get the loudest sounds from you. Your head thumps against the mirror behind you, fingers curled tight in his hair as he works you steadily towards orgasm. 

His eyes don't miss anything, locked on your face and the way it contorts in pleasure, lips parted as you writhe and pant. It feeds his own pleasure, the steady ache of his cock in his pants as he renews his efforts. 

Your orgasm builds like a storm cloud, the ever tightening knot in your lower belly that has you at the mercy of the male between your legs. Eris knows how close you are ㅡ how can he not, with the way your thighs tremble, the steady leak of arousal against his tongue ㅡ and there's no small amount of pride to have you this desperate with just his mouth. 

The knot snaps when Eris digs the tip of his tongue against your swollen bundle of nerves and you arch with a sharp cry. He follows the shudder and jerk of your hips as you come, tongue rolling over your hot, pulsing core to swallow everything you have to offer. 

You whine as he works you through your orgasm until you're pulling him away, panting as he presses damp kisses to your thigh. “I certainly hope I haven't worn you out already,” he murmurs, and your breath hitches as warmth simmers between your legs again. 

Part of you wants to tell him that this is nowhere near the kind of talking the two of you need to do, to discuss the bond, to decide if you accept it or not. But you're shoving at him, single minded intent in the way you back him against the wall and sink to your knees.

If Eris is surprised at the way you shove at him, he hides it well, dark eyes tracking as you as you thumb at his hip bones, popping the button of his pants and tugging ㅡ leaving him bare before you. And then your mouth is on him, and it's hard to think about anything at all. 

There's pride to be had in watching his face contort with pleasure as you lick precum from his tip, sliding your tongue against the underside and feeling him throb in answer before you take him into your mouth. 

Eris groans as you envelop him in the wet warmth of your mouth, the deliberate press of your tongue against the underside of his shaft as you suck. 

“Fuck,” Eris swears, voice rough and hips jerking with a hiss when you hum around him. You can feel him throbbing, the steady leak of precum that slides down your throat as you swallow. 

His hand finds your hair, an echo of your own just moments ago and you let him guide you along his length. His chest rises and falls unsteadily, the glisten of sweat at his neck and chest, the soft grunt that leaves his throat when you suck harder. 

You watch his head hit the wall with a muffled thump as you curl your tongue against his underside, hips jerking once, twice ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a groan that borders on obscene. 

You swallow before you pull back, and Eris pants as you bring a hand up to wipe at your lips. He watches you, tracking the way you slide your finger into your mouth to clean it ㅡ and then he's yanking you up, pinning you against the wall once more to kiss you.

It's an all encompassing kiss, sounds muffled as he presses into you hard enough that you can feel the stir of his cock against the apex of your thigh.  

“Eris,” you gasp against his mouth. “Eris, stop.”

He pulls away, eyes on yours ㅡ and the flicker of genuine concern makes your chest ache. “We need to talk,” you say, as if you aren't both in varied states of undress ㅡ or your mouth wasn't around his cock just a moment ago. “Actually talk.” 

You almost expect him to ignore you, to press for this ㅡ but his expression sobers, and it almost hurts to watch that desire for you snuff out like candlelight. “Okay.” 

Part of you wonders if Mor and the others are home yet, or if they'd heard the two of you ㅡ and wisely decided to make themselves scarce, because the house is as quiet as it's ever been.

Eris still looks far more composed than you feel, and you take a steadying breath as you wrap your fingers around the comforting warmth of the mug of tea before you. “...How long have you known?” 

You don't have to clarify, the gentle tug on the bond that's answered in kind on the other. “A while,” Eris answers, and it hurts that he seems focused on anything but you as he exhales. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you to stay last time you were in Autumn Court.” 

Something dangerously soft unfurls in your chest, renders you mute as you study the curl of steam from your mug. You could have.

Eris’ eyes flick to you, then away. We both know that isn't true.

He's right. You never would have, and he would never have asked ㅡ you love Velaris, you love your family too much to ever stray too far. Perhaps that was also why you'd spent so long shoving the mating bond down, pretending it didn't exist ㅡ so that if it did snap in place for Eris, you wouldn't have to confront what you are now.

All you can feel is the ache, echoed in tandem, the way you almost wish that it wasn't there at all ㅡ and you recoil from the hurt on his end. He exhales. “Do you really…”

You curl in on yourself. “No,” you mumble, “I just ㅡ I'm terrified, Eris. We both know what we won't give up, and I don't…I don't know how we're expecting this to work.”

Eris is silent for several long moments before he moves, and there's the press of warm fingers against your jaw, coaxing you to look up ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

It's sweet, gentle ㅡ and it only makes you hurt worse as he pulls away to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your forehead. “We'll figure it out.” 

ㅡ

When I said we'd figure it out, this is not what I thought we'd be doing. 

You can feel his annoyance, the flare of it at your answering amusement. It's what's working right now. 

So you say. He falls silent, and you resume tying your leathers. What exactly are you up to, anyways? 

Training. You finish, making sure that they're in place properly before you exit your room. 

Such a shame I'm not there to admire you. 

Your heart, the stupid thing, gives a soft flutter that you know Eris is undoubtedly aware of. More like distract me.

Would that be so bad? You roll your eyes, shaking your head. You're the one who's holding out on me, love. Don't think I've forgotten.

That you haven't technically accepted the bond, that you'd instead offered what the two of you have been doing for the last few weeks since Eris returned to Autumn Court. Which was, in truth, perhaps, a coward's way out. 

Because for all your jabs and steady ebb and flow through the bond, you're still terrified. That though the Cauldron had given you him, he could still be taken away. 

There's the distinct feeling of warm fingers against your mind, stroking ㅡ trying to settle you. I've waited this long for you, you know.

Sunlight warms your skin. I bet I have you beat in terms of waiting. 

We'll see about that.

“There you are,” Cassian calls as you approach. “Thought I was going to have to drag your lazy ass out of bed.”

“As if,” you snap back, but you're grinning as you stretch. Cassian smirks, eyes gleaming ㅡ relieved that you're back to normal, if not perhaps a little cheerier than you have been in a while. 

No doubt in large part to me, right? You almost drop your practice dagger, rolling your eyes as you square off in front of Cassian. 

Not everything has to involve you, you answer, knowing that the barb isn't anywhere near as vicious as it could be. 

But it could, Eris answers. As I said, such a shame I'm not there to admire you. He pauses. Shall I tell you? Or let you imagine on your own?

Your movement stutters for a second as you swing too wide, rolling backwards to avoid Cassian's own lunge at you. I'm busy. 

So you're not imagining my head between your legs again? He sounds all too pleased with himself, with the way you fall silent ㅡ abruptly thinking of that exact thing, much to his amusement. Because I am. You're so cruel, not allowing me the pleasure of fucking you with my tongue again.

You block a blow meant for your middle, swinging your leg out. Sweat drips down your temple, the familiar ache of your body that sparring always gives you ㅡ and more, the curl of warmth at Eris’ words. 

Or maybe I should have let you finish on my thigh first. You certainly were eager. Your breath stutters. Or perhaps my fingers next? I wonder how many you can take. Last time it was two, yes? Should we try for a third? He pauses, ever the satisfied fox for how your end of the bond goes silent still. Or perhaps you'd prefer my coㅡ 

Eris. He's laughing at you now, amusement echoing even as you throw up the barrier, blocking him out. 

Across from you, Cassian eyes you. He's aware of that far-away look, the snap to clarity once more before your eyes narrow on him. “Don't,” you intone in warning, and he grins.

“What? I didn't say anything.” He straightens, dusting off one of his bracers, the gleam of the siphons in mid-day sun before he approaches to clap you on the shoulder. “I'd pay to watch you shut him up in person, though.” 

“That,” you murmur, “could probably be arranged.”

ㅡ

To be fair, you don't bake a lot. And it'd taken an inordinate amount of courage to ask Elain to help you, the soft, knowing look she'd shot you that'd made your cheeks color. 

But she'd helped you knead dough, rolling it out and crimping it into place so that now you had a pie. 

A pie that mocks you with the simplicity of it, the last minute effort of adding coarse sugar to the top so that it glitters like the frozen crests of the mountains. Simple ㅡ perhaps too simple. 

Nothing like the elaborate things you've seen in windows of bakeries, in glossy magazines ㅡ you've never been good at that. Decent yes, but never so to recreate anything so elaborate.

You groan, pillowing your head into your arms ㅡ only to lift it a moment later at the crisp, Autumnal scent that invades your senses. As if you'd need even that ㅡ there's the familiar tug at the bond that has you watching as Eris strolls through the door. 

You don't leap into his arms. You don't even tackle him ㅡ but there is a swiftness to your gait that has you against him in a heartbeat, face tucked into his neck. 

“Well,” he murmurs, “was my presence missed that badly?”

“Shut up,” you huff, but there's no venom ㅡ not when the knotted tension in your chest is easing, made quicker for the arms that wind around you, tucking you tighter against him. 

“Here I thought you'd be so glad to have me back,” Eris sighs in mock-lament. “Your beloved mate had to find a believable enough excuse as to why I had to come here. Don't you think that deserves a kiss?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, even as the little bit of truth to your situation sinks home. Autumn Court is beautiful ㅡ but there's good reasons as to why Eris doesn't want you there more than absolutely necessary. Reasons that you forcefully shut out, instead studying his face ㅡ just as he spots the pie.

“What,” he murmurs, “is that?”

Your cheeks warm, even as you scoff. “A pie.” 

“Obviously,” Eris says, arm still slung around your waist. “But where did it come from?”

You study the wood paneling, the carefully detailed artwork from Feyre when she'd stayed here. The cabin isn't often used ㅡ and when you'd asked for usage of it, Rhysand had the audacity to smirk at you. Eris prompts you with a call of your name, and you almost contemplate winnowing and trying again later. 

“Me,” you answer finally. “I made it. For you.” 

Eris freezes against you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you before there are warm fingers on your chin, coaxing you to look at him ㅡ the only warning that you get before he's kissing you. 

You can feel the grip he has at your waist as he backs you until you meet the counter, your noise of surprise muffled by his mouth. “Eris,” you manage when he pulls away for a moment, “I worked hard on that pieㅡ” 

“And I'll happily eat it,” he huffs against your neck, voice low and rough as he lifts you onto the counter, slotting himself between your legs. “I'm busy right now.” 

You want to protest, but his teeth are bruising over your pulse, making you shudder and lean away, giving him more room to work. It earns you a low growl of approval as he busies himself with sucking marks into the column of your throat. 

One hand curls against his shoulder as the other slides into his hair, earning a groan when your nails curl against his scalp. Warm fingers slide up beneath your shirt to yank it upwards, contact of his mouth broken long enough to toss your shirt somewhere else ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your chest, tongue sliding over one achingly stiff nipple and then the other.

“Eris,” you exhale, “godㅡ” 

He nips sharply at the underside of your breast. “There are no gods here, love. Only me, and I don't share.” 

It's spoken in the tone you know is that primal edge of the bond, the innate need to take you ㅡ that'll have him near feral for days if another male so much as looks at you. It thrums in your veins, feeding your need to answer in kind as he grinds down against you, hard pressure against your core making your eyes flutter. 

And then he's pulling away to tug at your pants, kissing his way down one leg and then the other ㅡ and then that sinful mouth is on your core, just as he'd promised. The roll of his tongue has you moaning, hand in his hair to keep him from pulling away ㅡ even though you know he won't. 

You have no doubts that you're absolutely soaking as he presses into you like a man starved, keeping your legs parted as he fucks you with his tongue. Your back arches as he sucks at your clit, the sharp, broken cry that makes him smirk against your aching core. 

Your orgasm is looming, brought ever closer by every curl and roll of Eris’ tongue as you pant and writhe, fingers of the hand not occupied in his hair scrabbles for purchase against the counter beneath you.

As he'd done weeks ago, Eris works you through your orgasm as it washes over you like a thunderclap, letting up only once your noises have been reduced to whimpers and you're tugging at his hair.

Warm, damp kisses trail up your abdomen to your chest before Eris kisses you, and you moan at both the taste of yourself on his tongue and the fingers that he slides into you. 

You're slick enough that the slip of them is easy, and Eris groans at the way you tighten around him as he works you open. The stretch of his fingers has you keening and arching into him as his thumb finds your clit. 

“I told you,” he murmurs, “how I intended to admire you. But you making all of these infernal noisesㅡ” He curls his fingers and you keen, hips jerking against his hand. “And it makes it hard to stay focused.” 

You wish you could answer, you really do ㅡ but the way he's working you towards a second orgasm has robbed you of any eloquence beyond shuddering gasps and hiccuped moans. 

“My pretty mate,” Eris groans into your neck. He can feel the way you tighten as your orgasm nears, the lewd sound of his fingers as they thrust in and out of you. His cock throbs in his pants, and it's self-control alone that keeps him from spilling into his pants as you soak his hand as you come for the second time, making such pretty noises that Eris swears it's all he wants to hear for the rest of his immortal life.

He finally has the courtesy to lift you off of the counter, a slick mess left behind that he entertains the idea of making you clean up later with a hand in your hair and his cock in you as he takes you from behind ㅡ and the answering flare of arousal from you almost makes him want to do it now. 

But it's the soft plush of a bed that meets your bare back, legs parted to welcome the settle of Eris between them ㅡ deliciously bare, erection just shy of where you want him.

And despite the two orgasms he's coaxed from you, you have no qualms in telling him as you rock your hips up, head tipping back against the bed. “Fuck me properly, Eris.”

He raises an eyebrow, a Cauldron-sent menace as he tongues at the marks he's left on you, strawberry blossoms he's made sure will get the point across. “Ask nicely, love.”

You huff, then knock your leg against his hip, rolling so that you're straddling him now, hands planted against his chest. “You need to put that mouth to better use than pissing me off.”

“I already did,” Eris answers, cocky gleam to his eyes that makes you roll your own before he's hissing as you take him into your hand, guiding him to your slick entrance before you sink down.

“Being my mate doesn't excuse you annoying me,” you say, tone shaky for the way pleasure spiderwebs at the stretch of him inside you, the golden whisper of finally, finally, finally.

Eris’ expression is also taut as you clench around him before he offers a rough, “Say it again.” 

You stare down at him, aware of the way his pupils have blown so far you can't tell the color of his eyes anymore, the steady throb of his cock inside you. You don't have to ask what he wants you to say.

 You stretch over him, the slow roll of your hips that has him gripping at you even as your lips meet the delicate arch of his ear and you offer a breathy sigh. “My mate.” 

Eris snaps. You can't even yelp as you're flipped back into the sheets, moan leaving your hips as he bucks into you. The pace is aggressive enough that the bed creaks in protest beneath you, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

Nothing matters beyond the hard thrust of him inside you, tip knocking against that spot inside you that has you making sounds that'd put a pleasure-hall to shame. Your fingers curl against his back, rewarded with a groan that makes you tighten around him further as his hips roll steadily against yours. 

“Mine,” Eris huffs against your hair, then your temple, then your neck, the graze of his teeth making you shudder and arch into him. “Mine.”

Yours,” you gasp, choked cry ripped from you at the sink of his teeth against your skin.

One hand anchors him over you as the other skims over your breasts and down your abdomen to rub tight circles into your swollen clit. The contact makes you keen, and Eris huffs a rough laugh as you clench around him.

“Gonna come already, love?” You offer something that might be words, garbled and incoherent for the way pleasure is overloading your brain. It amuses Eris further as he watches your expression contort, the part of those pretty, kiss-swollen lips of yours as you mewl and moan.

“Two orgasms and still so needy…” He offers a playful click of his tongue. “Insatiable.”

As if he's faring better given that he's opted to simply grind his pelvis against yours now, intent on staving off his own orgasm for as long as he can in order to continue tormenting you with the pleasurable sink of his cock inside you. 

“Want you to come in me,” you rasp, a moment of clarity that makes Eris freeze above you for all of ten seconds ㅡ and then he's moving again, groaning as he fucks into you with renewed vigor.

“My pretty mate wants me to fill her up, huh?” He goads, slick fingers pinching at your nipple and tugging until you're crying out. “Want me to fuck you full of my seed? Go ahead and put a baby in you so everyone knows who you belong to?”

You don't get to respond because you're cumming hard, clamped hard around him as he manages one, two, three unsteady thrusts before Eris is pushing as deep into you as he can and groaning your name into your neck as he spills into you. The warmth of it makes you almost squeal, arching into him before he's settling over you, sweat slick-skin and a heartbeat to match yours. 

The next several moments are silent save for heavy breathing and the soft noise Eris makes as you drift your hand up and down his back. 

“Worth the wait?” Eris asks at last, and you pretend to think long enough that Eris pinches at your side in protest. “If you don't answer me, I'll just have to keep outdoing myself until you say otherwise.” 

“Is that so bad?” You challenge, and you can feel the twitch of him inside you, the way he's stiffening as his eyes flash.

“No,” he growls, “not at all.”

#ㅡmine. #acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #acotar smut

[andrastepls]

UNTIL DAWN.

synop: reader (callsign lark) and ghost chat over comms one rainy evening. maybe in the same universe as A/SMR ?

warnings: noooone ?

i have once again not proofread shit

The sound of rain pelting down on her makeshift tent was all encompassing, loud — and cold.

Under other circumstances, she would’ve loved the sound. The pitter patter of the droplets may well have lulled her to sleep, but not tonight. Camped out atop a roof adjacent to enemy territory, huddled up underneath a pair of wooden pallets and garbage bags that she’d propped up against the side of the wall, a thermal blanket held up to her nose in an attempt to retain some warmth — this was anything but comforting.

Maybe that was why her eyes kept flicking to her comm. Knowing a familiar voice was just on the other end of a radio wave. He, Ghost, never turned his off. Especially not while she was out on her own, “Manners,” was his response when asked why.

“Lt?” she begins, her voice a breadth above a whisper, “You awake? Over.”

There’s a lull of silence. Not even the static there to keep her company when she lifted her finger from the button.

“Copy, Lark. How you holdin’ up? Over.” came the slight grogginess of his voice, a telltale sign that he had been nearly asleep, if not outright unconscious.

She pauses before answering; namely, what was she going to say? She woke him, it had to be a better reason than being cold and lonely. He was probably cold and lonely too. If he even got lonely. He didn’t seem the type for it. In the two years she had known him, if there was anything she could figure, it was that Lieutenant Riley was someone who enjoyed his alone time.

“Lark?” his voice sounds again with a crackle of static, sounding more awake.

“Here, sir.” she replies, “Just . . . needed to hear a familiar voice. Sorry to wake you. Over.” and she expects that to be the end of it. It was silly of her to bother him over something so mundane. It was weak, and overstepping and —-

“Cold as hell tonight.” he says, dropping formalities. Her chest feels tight. Guilty.

“. . yeah.”

“Y’ got enough thermals up there?”

“For tonight, if it doesn’t flood up here.”

And she swears, she swears, she hears the end of a snorted-laugh when he answers, “The roof innit gonna flood, kid.”

Fighting a smile, she hides herself further into the silver blanket, ducking her head inside and curling her legs up closer, “You’re gonna feel real silly saying that when you need a boat to evac me in the morning.”

"Sure we got a little floaty around here somewhere, if it comes to that." he replies, taking on the tone of a man who thought himself to be hilarious -- having been on the receiving end of his jokes in the past, well . . .

"One with duckies on it, I hope."

"Mm. Nah. Little fish." the Lt. says, his smirk evident in his voice. A smirk she had never seen, but had grown quite accustomed to hearing.

"Nemo?" Lark grins, pulling her sleeves further up to cover her hands in the interim between their comments.

"High standards there, huh?"

"You have no idea, Lt. Nemo or bust."

"I'll see what I can do." he chuckles a bit, and she tries to picture him being up there with her. He was intimidating, no doubt about that, but he brought a certain comfort with him. A sense of safety, even. Must have come with the territory of doing what they did.

You either had each others back, or you all died. That, or get hunted down. Bleak, unless you sucked it up and worked together.

"Fallin' asleep, kid?" Simon's voice comes through again in a crackle of static.

"Nah -- don't think I'm gonna get much sleep tonight." still, she fights back a yawn. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to sleep, because she wanted to. Badly. Getting back to base couldn't come soon enough.

There’s a moment of silence, and she wonders if he had fallen asleep himself. She couldn’t even blame him. Freezing rain, creeping up on 3 A.M. Dawn isn’t all that far off, she told herself, just power through a few more hours.

“Can stay on with ya,” he suddenly says, clearing his throat a little, “Should at least try to get a few winks.”

“That your way of telling me to shut up, Lt?” Lark asks, not bothering to try and hide the sleepy smile evident in her reply.

“Maybe.”

“Brutal.”

“Do I gotta make it an order?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs. Laughs. It makes her chest tighten so unfairly; worse, when she realizes she would do damn near anything to hear that again.

“Get some shuteye, Lark. That’s an order.”

“Mm.” She hums, pulling her thermal over her head, listening to the rain continue to pitter-patter on her makeshift shelter, “See you in the morning, Lt.”

“Jus’ a couple hours.”

“ . . just a couple hours.” she mutters back, tucking her walkie underneath her chin as she settled back in. Forcing her eyes shut as he says a muffled ‘Goodnight’ into the comm.

A/N: i’ve had an idea like this for months, and when i read this, i couldn’t stop myself B) . . . might continue this ? idk

#cod imagine #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley x oc #call of duty #drabble #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod fic

[dreadsuitsamus]

Jitters | Kakashi Hatake x Reader |

author's note: i'm back with more papashi, babes! this is set in the same au verse as the others, though can be read standalone! if you'd like to read the others and get caught up on some certain background info, you can find the other works in my masterlist!

pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader

warnings: naruto and sasuke are the adopted sons of reader and kakashi, modern au, fluff

The dreaded day has come, though it's you that's calm and collected about it. The boys are old enough to ride the bus to school, they want to ride the bus to school, and after one last summer vacation of your boys being your little babies, they've grown up just a little bit.

"We're gonna be firs' graders, Mama!" Naruto argued with you and his father, Sasuke nodding beside him with a determined frown.

"It's time to let them be men already?" Kakashi mutters into the pillow as you shut off the noisy alarm clock.

An ungraceful snort leaves you. "Men that require Mommy's kisses for their boo-boos are hardly men."

"To be fair to them," Kakashi flips over onto his back, gazing at you with a little curve of his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye. "Your kisses have healing properties."

Laughing gently at your husband's silliness, your palm finds his chest just as your lips press to the scar over his left eye. Humming in disappointment, you don't pull away far. "Strange, it didn't heal that."

"It's an old scar; that'll take a lot more kisses." Those big hands find your body, one attaching to your hip while the other cups your face and guides you down for a kiss.

It's warm under these covers, your legs tangled during your soft kiss. Mornings like these have only just started coming back now that Naruto doesn't wake up so early and Sasuke doesn't sneak into your bed in the middle of the night nearly as often as he used to. Kakashi's lengthy fingers dig into the fabric of your nightgown, twisting it tightly as he wills the kiss to last.

As soon as you part, you'll be off to wake the boys up for their first day of first grade. And he's just not quite ready for that step.

Your lips vibrate with a soft laugh, privy to his intentions but unable to humor him long. "Darling…"

Kakashi flips your positions, slotting himself above you and pinning your hands over your head delicately, his forefingers and thumbs massaging at your wrists. "Hmm?"

"You don't want the boys to be late on their first day, do you?"

"That's certainly fine by me." Your husband murmurs, his nose finding a lovely spot on your shoulder to rub against. "My boys are safe here, home with Momma and Papa…"

"My love, they need to go to school." You coo up at Kakashi, watching as he pouts at just how reasonable you are.

"I don't want them to." He mumbles, the pitiful thing. Letting those boys grow up is killing him! They tie their own shoes, wipe their own faces, they're better than him at video games now! Before he knows it, they'll start asking for advice on girls! As if he knows how the hell he landed such a perfect wife??

"Relax." You wiggle your wrists from his weak hold, cupping his face gently. "They're not leaving for college. You're still going to have to wrestle Naruto into the bathtub tonight, and Sasuke is definitely going to want to snuggle after school to calm his nerves after such an extensive amount of time around people. Our boys aren't babies anymore, but they're still our babies. They're not going anywhere."

"I hate when you talk sense into me." Kakashi sighs and rolls off of you, laying forlornly as you take the opportunity to get out of bed and head down the hall.

Peeking inside the boys' bedroom, you smile at the sleepy kids. Naruto's comforter hangs off his bed, mimicking the boy himself as more than half of himself hangs precariously off the side. And the boy wonders why you and Kakashi would never let them have a bunk bed! Sasuke's curled into a tight ball, blankets secured around him in a cocoon of warmth, his old baby blankie featuring a baby Bugs Bunny and friends no doubt held tightly to his chest underneath the pile.

"Boys…" Your voice is gentle, neither boy moving just yet. It's been a long summer vacation, and kindergarten was hardly the true school experience. This is the first year of twelve and they've got a long way to go and many early days ahead of them— and if Kakashi were to have his way, they'd get to sleep in for a whole extra hour.

But if there were certainly any time for you to put your foot down, it's now.

"Time for school!" Your cheerful smile is genuine as you saunter in, watching Naruto wake with a dramatic startle and finish falling off of his bed. There's not even a chance for concern to blossom in your chest, though, as the little blond ball of sunshine is up and jumping around.

"Firs' day o' school!"

Your raven-haired sweetheart, however, isn't quite as excitable as his brother.

"Shut up!" He grumbles, throwing his favorite Squishmallow at Naruto. It lands perfectly in Naruto's face, and before you've even opened your mouth to defuse things, Naruto jumps right onto Sasuke with a hearty yell and a swing of the stuffed animal right back where it came from.

"Hey!" Sasuke growls and just like that, the boys are wrestling around, Sasuke's blankets getting twisted as his legs fight for an opening to better kick his brother with.

You sigh to yourself and begin the process of intervention, the task not undoable but your hips are certainly getting too old for this. "Stop it, boys! This is not how we get ready for school!"

"HE STARTED IT!" They yell back, defending themselves whilst simultaneously pushing at one another.

"Naruto! Sasuke!"

The boys freeze while a satisfied shiver follows the curve of your spine. Oh, how you love Kakashi's Dad Voice™! Your husband stands at the doorway, hands in the pockets of his sweats as his sharp eyes narrow. "Start getting ready for school, boys. Do you want to miss the bus?"

Your precious boys gasp, as if they'd forgotten what they've been so excited for! Feeling safe in the decision to start cooking breakfast, your husband walks hand in hand with you down the stairs. Finding one specific spot on his bicep to be too kissless, you can't help planting a soft smooch just before you enter the kitchen. "You've sure turned that frown upside down."

"You know I don't like it when they give you trouble."

"Tch, they hardly know any other way to act." You smile to yourself though, knowing that it's not their intention to be little pains in the butt.

Kakashi pulls out a carton of eggs, quickly getting to work on scrambling them as you slice up fresh fruits. You work around one another beautifully, occasionally sharing a small kiss as you pass on by, and before you know it the boys are down and sitting at the dining room table, bellies hungry and bouncing with nervousness. Your husband plates the table while you give the boys a glass of their preferred juices, orange for Naruto and apple for Sasuke, and he pressed quick kisses onto each boy's head.

"Eat up, boys. You've got a big day ahead of you." You hum softly, sitting across from your husband at the small, squared mahogany table. It's always been enough to accommodate your small family, but as you watch the boys mow down their omelets and trade between their pineapples and cantaloupe, your heart cracks at the idea that the table isn't as big as it used to be. Certainly by the end of the school year, you'll have to get a bigger one.

And watching as your husband plucks a strawberry from each boy's plate, you smile warmly at the potential of maybe even having an extra place setting at the table by the beginning of the next school year.

"Alright," Kakashi claps his hands once breakfast is mere crumbs on Naruto's shirt. "Go brush your teeth and get your backpacks."

The boys scurry off, making a contest out of everything they do and racing to be the first to the sink. You keep still, listening with a little smile as Kakashi comes to stand behind you and work those large, magical hands on your shoulders. "What's on your mind?" He hums at the shell of your ear, squeezing at a particularly sore spot that you weren't even aware was aching.

"They're really growing up so fast."

"They are." He murmurs, his warm palms sliding along your shoulders. "It's not too late to keep 'em home."

Snorting rather ungracefully, you shake your head and listen to the sound of the footsteps upstairs. "Wouldn't you rather… Never mind." You shake your head at the thought— two boys are already hard enough to raise.

Your husband almost knows your mind better than you do, though. And he certainly picks up what you've left off, humming thoughtfully as he ponders the idea. "I'm not against it. It could be fun."

"I need a little more than 'fun' to go for it." You laugh and accept your husband's kiss to your cheek, officially tabling the discussion as the race back downstairs continues.

"I win!" Naruto's breathless, toothpaste staining his shirt and you pinch the bridge of your nose at the sight. His teacher is going to think the absolute worst of you and your husband.

"Good job." Kakashi spares a hand to high five the boy, softly pinching Sasuke's pouty cheek after. "Get your shoes on and then we'll go to the bus stop."

Masters at the art of shoe-tying, their laces are quickly knotted and Naruto slips his little hand into yours once you've walked out of the house. The bus stop is just at the corner, not even three houses down from home, but you can't help the relief that relaxes your bones at the way both of the boys reach for a parent's hand. They're getting bigger, but definitely still far from grown.

The neighborhood kids are gathered at the bus stop and the boys join their friends, leaving you and the other parents to socialize while waiting for the bus. Kakashi, not much of a social butterfly but not wanting to be rude, slips his arm around your waist and keeps a watchful eye out for the bus with an occasional witty comment that makes the other parents laugh. Perhaps it's his paranoia from his time in the military, but he just won't be able to truly relax until the very moment the boys are safely back home.

The long-awaited, certainly dreaded day has come. The bus rolls up, some kids hardly even offering their parents a goodbye before sprinting to the bus, and in fairness, this isn't the first rodeo for some of them. But your boys both come up for quick hugs, their eyes bright as they pull away and run to the doors together, hopping on and quickly finding themselves a seat before the bus pulls away.

"Yeah." Kakashi murmurs into your ear as you both wave at the kids, the bus pulling off and heading towards the school. "Let's have another one."

#kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto #naruto shippuden x reader #x reader #reader insert #kakashi imagine #papashi #fic #papashi au

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link

@babydollbaron I need you to know your tags basically changed the trajectory of this fic

In the mornings, Steve dropped Shawn off at the before care offered by the school and then went to work. Afterwards, Shawn took the school bus home and went over to a neighbor's house, Miss Robin, until his dad got home from work.

Because of this, Steve knew he would hardly have a reason to see Eddie outside school functions and conferences. Which was fine. It was totally fine. He absolutely was not spending nights thinking about those curls under his fingers. Whenever Shawn had a story from school to tell, he hung on every word. And it was only because these were the formative years of Shawn's life.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Munson asked about our practice and I got to tell him all about it", Shawn said.

Steve paused in his current task, which was the dishes while Shawn did his homework at the kitchen table. He knew exactly what his son was talking about.

"Oh? How'd that come up?"

"I told him about it before but I didn't get to tell him about it before Yasmin started crying. He asked me and I told him."

Steve currently taught middle school, but he'd had a little experience with the younger ones. When it got close to Shawn starting school, he did his best to make sure he was prepared. And to make things a little easier on whoever was teaching him. Steve tried to be subtle with his next words.

"Tell me more about Mr. Munson."

And then the floodgates opened. Mostly because it seemed Mr. Munson was very open about his personal life. Apparently, anytime the students had a question, he answered it. Just in this five minutes between drying the dishes and plating up dinner, Steve learned that Mr. Munson played guitar, loved the color red, played a game about dragons, and was single.

"Wait, how do you know he's not married?", Steve asked.

"Because Briana asked him and he said he's not married", Shawn answered easily.

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

Steve tried not to think too hard about it. Mr. Munson being single didn't change anything. Not a single thing. But a really hot alpha who was unattached and also happened to be really good with kids who his kid loved was kind of the ultimate wet dream.

For Halloween, the students were allowed to come in costume and before the day was over, Steve's email was blessed with a collection of pictures of the class, including one where several superheroes, princesses, and even a kid dressed as Chucky defeated the mighty Munson dragon.

It was so cute that Steve had half a mind to send a reply that said so but second guessed it. He didn't need to tell Shawn's teacher it was a cute picture that was the whole reason he sent it. He had to keep all correspondence professional. But it was a picture of Shawn so he was well within his rights to save all of them to his phone.

"You ha~ve a cru~ush~", Robin sang on the phone. She was pulling some dino nuggets from the oven in preparation for Shawn coming over.

"Shut up, I don't!", Steve hissed on the other end. School had just ended but there would be a staff meeting in about five minutes. "I didn't tell you so you could make fun of me-"

"Come on, you knew it was coming-"

"I told you because I just had to tell someone." Steve sighed and took of his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's not creepy if he's Shawn's former teacher, right?"

"Steve, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think it's creepy now." Robin picked up one of the nuggets and chomped on it. "It's kind of crazy how we have dino nuggets and animal crackers but not the other way around."

"Please save that for Shawn when he gets there. What do you mean? Wouldn't it be weird?"

"You're both two grown adults. I don't see the harm in asking him out", Robin said.

Steve slouched in his chair behind his desk. "That's not the only fact here. There's the fact that he's teaching my son. If any of the other parents find out, they'll think I'm sleeping my son's way to the top."

"....In first grade? That would be pathetic."

"Most suburban gossip is, but you already know this. It's not me I'm worried about really, it's Shawn. Kids talk too and what if they make fun of him?"

"Oh no! My awesome dad is dating my awesome teacher! Whatever will I do?!", Robin wailed.

"He thinks we're awesome separately. There's no telling what he'll think of us together. And I...I don't want to give him false hope."

"Steve...when was the last time you went on a date?"

Steve let out a puff of air. "Does that one guy who ogled me a few years ago count?"

"Gross! Steve! No! Do you mean the guy who was just staring at you breast feeding?"

"Serves me right for doing it in public. And in shorts."

"Hey, no, there will be no slut-shaming in this household." Robin paused when she heard the door open and the bounding of feet. "Your gremlin is here."

"I think you mean my precious miracle from above. And you will treat him as such. My only gremlins are my sixth graders."

"Whatever. Just get your shipwreck together and decide what you want to do."

Turns out, Steve didn't have to wait long for an opportunity. Shawn had come home that day with a flyer for a Thanksgiving performance and was asking for parent volunteers.

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

Eddie wasn't like, actively hoping that he would see Shawn's dad again. But when the fliers went home asking for volunteers, as well as an email, there was something going up. But it wasn't hope. It definitely wasn't hope. It couldn't possibly be hope. That way nothing could be dashed when nothing came of it.

So when he came into the auditorium after school, he was simply pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Harrington there. Not elated. Not ecstatic. Just appropriately pleased.

He greeted all the parents of his students, of which he only saw two others before coming to Mr. Harrington.

"Nice to see you again", he said with a handshake.

"And you as well", Mr. Harrington replied.

Eddie was sure he was imagining the electricity passing through their touch.

"Well, welcome to elementary theatre. Where we're gonna nurture any and all blossoming passions in the arts."

"Can't wait to see it. Um, so what exactly will they be doing?", Steve asked.

"The first grade class as the honor of doing a little song on what they're thankful for. Mrs. Clifford usually accompanies them by piano, but this year I'm hoping to get some more instrumentation for it."

"Oh, Shawn told me you play guitar."

Eddie's first instinct was to twirl his hair to hide his smile but it was still up in a bun, so he tried to fix his face to not be too obvious but he was sure it came out as a weird grimace.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Been playing for years. What about you, any instrumental skills?"

"None", Mr. Harrington shook his head. "My parents tried piano lessons, but I never took them for long. Just long enough to learn 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."

"Everybody's got their talents. And no better place to showcase them", Eddie thrust his arms out around them.

"Well for now, I'm volunteering my time being a watchful eye and working on backgrounds and costumes. Plus snacks."

"Wait, did you bring the chips and sliders?", Eddie jutted a thumb toward the table near the stage.

Mr. Harrington shrugged. "It's just turkey and ham. And I know how ravenous kids can get."

"Are you guys talking about me?", Shawn asked, coming up to them.

Eddie watched the odd look on Mr. Harrington's face and was sure his must've looked similar. This was probably the longest he'd been talking to a parent without talking about their kid.

"I was just about to bow to your dad's culinary prowess", Eddie said. "Apparently, he made the snacks for this evening."

"I asked him to make his stuffing because, you know, Thanksgiving, but he said it was too early", Shawn said.

"I'm sure his stuffing is delicious", Eddie smiled down at him.

"You should come to our house and try it", Shawn beamed, leaning his head against his dad's hip.

Eddie looked back up at Mr. Harrington. "I'd love it if I could do that."

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

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Steve was thankfully saved from replying to that by rehearsal starting and so Mr. Munson's attention was drawn away but seriously. What the fuck was that? Was that man inviting himself over to his house? Was it simple small talk? What was it all supposed to mean?

He was put on costume duty while the children practiced which kept his hands busy but not his brain, so he spent the next hour over thinking about that one line, which led to him overanalyzing the entire conversation. When practice ended, the teachers stood by the front entrance to wait for any parents that weren't already there or hadn't shown up toward the end to get their kids.

Mr. Munson waved off the last of his students just as Shawn finished in the bathroom and Steve helped him get his coat on. He looked hesitant before speaking up.

"Looks like you're my last one. I can walk you to your car if you want. It's pretty dark out."

Pretty dark was an understatement. It was near pitch black and the parking lot had bare minimum lighting. Steve definitely would've felt better about it if he had someone on the other side of Shawn.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

And without being told so, Mr. Munson put Shawn between them as they left the school and walked out into the parking lot. He gave a whistle once they got to Steve's BMW.

"Nice car."

"Thanks. She's been pretty faithful to me all these years." Steve unlocked the car and let Shawn into the backseat first. When he closed the door, he smiled at the alpha before him. "Thanks for walking us out.

"Consider it a routine then. At least until this place can afford to fully light up the lot."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." There must have been the tiniest bit of a lull in the conversation because suddenly Shawn piped up from inside the car.

"Dad, can we get tacos for dinner?"

Steve snapped out of whatever staring contest he was having with Mr. Munson and looked down affectionately at his son. "What? My casserole not good enough all of a sudden?" He opened the driver side door and got in, turning the ignition on.

With them safely in the car, Eddie went over to his van and got in, waiting until he saw Mr. Harrington pull out before going his own way.

Later that night, after putting Shawn to bed, Steve was left alone with his thoughts again as he graded papers using an answer key at the kitchen table. It was easy to let his mind drift into just how...how wonderful Mr. Munson seemed.

He bit his lip and squeezed his legs together. Mr. Munson was handsome, and charismatic, and so safe, so much the perfect alpha that he'd been led to believe didn't exist. He could protect him and his pup... and Steve could give him more pups...

Steve's hand drifted down between his legs and he let it stroke a few times before freezing and closing his grade book. Time for something more mentally stimulating.

"Guess I'm lesson planning tonight."

Part 3

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

[botanybulbasaur]

Schneider's family ; The significance of Marian

REVERSE 1999 SPOILERS AHEAD : FOR CHAPTERS 1 AND 2 ! Please tread carefully and make sure you only read about what you're willing to know.

I know we're all still completely in shambles from Chap. 2, but I wanted to make a speculation about Schneider-- and a comment about how well she's written !

Let me start with this: In many pieces of media, viewers, listeners and readers alike are told that a character has people they care for. They're told a character has a lover, a wife, kids, a family, a sister. We're told the same about Schneider: that she has 11 older siblings, and that she works in the mafia to support them.

However, it's very rarely that we're given a name and a face for these supposed loved ones. And even rarer is it that they're written well, not just as a ploy for empathy, but as their own character: Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed guests: I present to you, Marian.

Marian is one of my favorite characters just as a stand-alone: she's realistic, she's anxious, she clings to Schneider like a lifeline-- but she's brave, too. I'd love to do an in-depth analysis on her another time, but we're here for another reason.

Marian, first of all, shows us what Schneider's family is like. How they were raised, what they believe in, who they depend on. Soft topic, I know, but as someone of Italian lineage, it's very important to me that I point this out: Marian is extremely religious.

Immigrants of every kind tend to be religious. It gives them much more faith than they ever could have: a new lifeline. They managed to make it across such a winding sea? Oh, thank the lord. They haven't been kicked out of the Americas for emigration? Thank you, holy one. There's so many more reasons for this than "they need something they don't have"- maybe the fact that the rendition of god in every religion is said to love everybody, not just those who were born into wealthy families with the bluest eyes and the blondest hair.

When in a moment with no reason, and all different kinds of desperate measures being needed.. Schneider does what her family coaxes her to. She prays.

(I can't find a screenshot, but please refer to the iconic "I didn't know you prayed" scene, and the screenshot directly below this sentence.)

I also want to point out a large difference between Schneider and her family: Schneider's perspective on a 'god' differs so, so much from her family's.

She looks to whoever may be above, in her world, scornfully-- at least, in the present day. In her past, there is a particularly impactful line I want to debunk.

"The god there ... loves the world." Schnider's family seems to believe that god was the one guiding them, the one who will forgive them-- Schneider believed that it was a whole different entity. This kid believes that the god in Sicily, whoever they may be, does not love the world-- and mio dio, if that's not fucked up, I don't know what is.

And, when Schneider comes to America and sees that shit isn't as it's cut off to be, she's resentful of whoever this god may be. She gives a pray as her last bet-- what her family wants.

And it's not that she doesn't believe in this god-- no. She just doesn't believe they love her.

"Finally forgive me" -- Finally being the key word here. She's lived all her life never being treated to mercy or being 'forgiven for her sins' -- and at her most fragile, exposed moment, she relents to what her family has taught her. To what she truly believes-- to Sicily, to Marian, her sorella. Maybe even all 11 sorelle and her parents.

And, again, they're different at face value. Marian is calm, kind. She dresses modest and has her hair grown out: she's timid, too, not befitting of a mafia boss. She's different from her younger sister.. but she's still important. She shows us another side of Schneider: and, more importantly, she shows us what-- no, who Schneider is fighting for.

Marian provides us with extremely beneficial background context of where Schneider comes from-- and, in that process, gives many of us someone to empathize with. Yes, I too know somebody at least a little like her. You do too, likely.

Maybe, you're even like Schneider-- maybe she's someone you'd aim to protect.

,,aaand that's the little lore rant. Whew! Now to study for my math finals. I hope you have a good day :)

#reverse 1999 #schneider greco #schneider reverse 1999 #schneider #lore #hello internet #welcome to #game theory #hahaha this is so stupid #never let me talk about schneiders family ever again or im dumping the italian bloodline lore #certified pasta muncher schneider speculation #yelena my beloved #yelena greco #yea that's her real name #god reverse 1999 makes me sick #/pos? maybe?? #also i love ms z so so so so so so much #my skurnrkly doo #the silly #thats it #CLASSIC BLUNDER SCHNEIDER #CLASSIC BLUNDER

[luveline]

Hi! Could you please write an Eddie and Roan were Eddie and Reader need to do something, and they can't have Roan with them, and for some reason, Steve and Robin end up taking care of her?

thank u for ur request sorry this is a bit rubbish!! eddie and roan —you and eddie have to manage a potential disaster, so steve and robin babysit

You're first to come through the door, arms wide open and smiling bashfully. "Hey! Thanks for doing this." 

Robin hugs you back, startled.

"We wanted to. We like you even if your boyfriend looks funny," Steve says. 

Eddie walks up the path to Steve's house, Roan's hand in one hand, her backpack in the other. "Because we don't know if we'll be back tonight I put your pyjamas in there, okay?" he says to her. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, hugging Steve in greeting too. He's less awkward than Robin, rubbing your shoulder. 

"Don't worry about it. Rumour has it I kinda like Eddie's tiny spawn," Steve jokes. 

You laugh and pull away from him. "Are you gonna yell at me if I offer you pizza money? Eddie told me not to but I don't think that's very polite–"

"We'll definitely yell," Steve says. He never would, but he doesn't want your money.

You smile at them both with way too much love. Which isn't to say it isn't reciprocated, they really do like you, but you surprised everyone when you started dating Eddie. You're the most earnest person Steve's ever met, heart on your sleeve. He supposes you'd have to have that kind of heart, to love someone's kid like they're your own as young as you are. 

"Okay, well, you obviously can't call us, but I wrote the shop number down in case you didn't have it. Wayne's working until the morning but if there's an emergency he will definitely answer. But please don't let there be an emergency." You rub your lips together. "I'd feel so bad if something happened while we're gone 'cos it's my fault we have to go and–"

"Everything will be fine!" Steve cuts you off. Eddie and Roan walk into the house behind you, and Steve gives her a loving smile. "She's, like, our favourite niece." 

"She's your only niece," Eddie says. 

"We only need the one, she's perfect," Robin says, holding out her arms and leaning down for a hug. Roan runs into her chest, beaming. "Hey! You had a haircut, it looks so nice!" 

"Thank you! I wanted it to be long like dad's but it's too hot." 

"Did she offer you money?" Eddie asks over you as you bend down to say goodbye. 

"Yeah, what's that about? You telling her we're hurting for it?" Steve says, glaring. 

It's an act. He can't last, and he laughs when Eddie laughs, shoving hands into his denim jacket. 

"Everything's okay, right?" Steve adds. 

"I mean, probably? We'll find out. Thank you for taking her. Don't worry, I told her to make as much mess as possible." 

"Fantastic." 

Eddie leans down to give Roan a kiss. "Please be good." 

"I'm always good." 

"You're a liar," Eddie says, stroking her hair behind her ears. "I love you." 

"I love you! Are you still buying me a Barbie on Saturday?" 

"Only if you're good," he says, kissing her forehead. "Okay, bye, baby." He winks at Robin. "I'm coming back for you, Buckley." 

"Ew!" Robin cheers happily. 

You all exchange another heap of goodbyes. Steve, Robin and Roan stand in the doorway and wave you off as you get back into your car and drive away, and when your car turns the corner down the end of the street and disappears, Steve offers his arms for his own hug. Roan takes them. He picks her up. 

"Hey, favourite Munson. It's been a really long time since you came over. Like, months and months. You don't love us anymore?" he asks. 

"Shut up, I do love you," Roan says, laughing. She has a great laugh, as high-pitched as her voice but never grating. "I've been busy." 

That sets Robin off. "You're talking like such a grown up! You need to stop getting bigger." 

"I tried." 

"I bet you did," Steve says. 

"Is Mr. Stinky here?" Roan asks as Steve sets her down again. 

She takes off her shoes, putting them neatly under the stairs, and Steve can't decide if that shows how Eddie's doing a great job or if Roan really is getting bigger. Robin helps her out of her coat, saying, "He's here somewhere. He doesn't like when I move him around, so I think he's hiding under one of the beds. We should wait until he's ready to come out, okay?" 

"Sure! Is his teeth better?" 

Not completely grown up. 

"They are, we went to the cat dentist." 

"The ventist," Steve says.

Roan giggles. "The ventist." 

Taking care of Roan is easier now she's getting older. She can communicate everything she wants without fuss, and she's never shy about wanting. She wants drinks and chips and TV, but she says please after every ask, and Robin and Steve have no reason to deny her. 

The three of them sit on the couch sipping juice boxes and blinking dozily at the screen. "Wait, Princess Polly has a sister?" Robin asks. 

"She's a mermaid," Roan says. 

"Oh. Where's her tail?" 

"It comes out when she goes in the water." 

Roan passes her hand to Steve and Steve holds it without question.

"Steve?" 

"What, bub?" he asks, face on the back of the couch. Roan smiles shyly. 

"Can we do karaoke?" 

Steve is a grown man, mid-twenties, full time job and (just about) paying a mortgage every month, but that doesn't stop him from putting on the tiara, finding new batteries for the karaoke microphone, and singing Princess Polly songs with his best girls. Robin sits on the arm of the couch, Roan stands on the coffee table cheering him on, and Steve rocks the damn house. Every birthday or Christmas gift Steve has bought Roan for the last three years has been Princess Polly themed —he is an expert, and he knows every lyric.

It definitely feels embarrassing, but the girls don't judge. Robin's his best friend in the entire world, and over the years she's seen the absolute worst and the  rare but sweet best of him. And Roan thinks he's a rockstar, she loves it, and that's why he does it, but he knows deep down that if anyone else saw him singing like this he'd have to move cities. 

Roan jumps at him from the coffee table and he catches her deftly, letting her take the microphone to sing her favourite song before it starts, the song where the Prince tells the Princess how strong she is. 

Robin sings the wrong words with them, and after the grand crescendo she turns the TV volume down to call for pizza. 

"What do you want?" she asks Roan, receiver clamped between her ear and her shoulder as she turns the dial. "What toppings? Do you still like sausage?" 

"I want sausage and extra cheese, please," she says, looking back at Steve. "Is that okay?" 

Steve holds up his hands. "You can have whatever you want." 

"Sausage and cheese and pepperoni," she says cautiously. 

"Sausage and cheese and pepperoni," Robin parrots. She doesn't have to ask Steve what he wants. They've been sharing double pepperoni pizzas for nearly seven years. "Do you like chicken wings or no?" 

"Yes!" 

They spend time before the food arrives coaxing Mr. Stinky out from under Steve's bed, baiting him with crunchy treats. Robin squeezes cat yoghurt onto Roan's fingers and Mr. Stinky licks then clean, prompting a roaring, ecstatic laughter from her. She gets her pets in while he's happy. 

There's a knock at the door not long after. 

Steve rushes downstairs to grab his wallet, and is actually agitated when he opens the door to find Eddie at the threshold, you at the bottom of the lane, paying the unsuspecting pizza guy. 

"I tried to stop her," Eddie says. 

"Everything worked out?" Steve asks worriedly. 

"Oh, for sure. What's life without a dumb work emergency? We got there and they basically told her it was a false alarm. I thought she was gonna cry from relief." 

Steve's happy to hear it but disappointed that Roan won't stay. She really does feel like his niece, he loves having her around, and whenever she stays over he and Robin are forced to spend time together doing things they might not think about doing otherwise. He'd been excited to dig out the Monopoly board after pizza. 

Eddie grins as you approach, pizza boxes in hand. "Nice going, sweetheart." 

"These are so hot!" You give Steve a nervous smile. "Could we stay for dinner?" 

"Are you kidding?" Steve asks.

Eddie claps him on the shoulder. You come inside, and Roan is glad you're back but unhappy to have her day cut so short, like Steve. "I wanted to stay over," she whines, "Aunt Robin said Mr. Stinky might sleep with me." 

"She could still stay," Robin says. 

"She definitely could," Steve agrees. 

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks. 

"You could all stay, if you want. I have the air mattress," Steve says. 

You swing Roan around in your arms happily. "Oh my gosh, I haven't had a sleepover in years." 

"It's a slumber party!" Roan says. 

"That'll be a really great one to tell the guys on Monday," Eddie says, opening one of the pizza boxes to cut Roan's slices in half. He waves the pizza cutter around as he talks. "What did you do on Monday, kid? Not much, just a slumber party with my friends." 

"Miss out the slumber in slumber party," Robin suggests, tipping bottled lemonade into glasses, a bag of ice melting slowly on the counter next to her. 

Steve grins and gets to work plating up for him and Robin. "That would be lying." 

"Can we paint our nails?" Roan asks. 

"I don't have any nail polish," Steve says regretfully. 

"I might have a black one in my bag," Robin says. 

"Oh, good. We can do dad's nails, too," you say to Roan. 

Eddie wiggles his fingers enticingly. "Embracing my femininity. What do you say, Harrington? Gonna let me paint yours?" 

Steve ends up letting Roan paint his nails, and they look great. He also lets her do his blush and eyeshadow too, but that's only because she asks really nicely. 

#eddie and roan

[findafight]

Ohhh fic where Steve and Robin and Dustin and Erica all casually make funny little haha jokes with each other about getting tortured/almost caught by the Russians under Starcourt because they all have that shared trauma and had many a long late night calls reassuring each other they're alive and playing dnd together and fulfilling lifetime supply of icecream obligations.

They do this because sure the rest of the party knew there were Russians under Starcourt but everything they went through in that basement was sorta...forgotten in the aftermath of literal flesh monster. And with Hopper dead and the Byers moving, there's so much happening that whatever happened to Steve's face (lost another fight...) and why he and Robin went from mildly antagonistic co-workers to codependent goobers who couldn't go literally a day without seeing the other or what made Dustin always ask if Erica was going to come for party hang outs are all sort of brushed under the rug. Not a big deal, really. Bigger things happening after everything.

And they cope together and scoops troop is a weird little section of the party no one but them really understands. Robin and Steve are attached at the hip and to a lesser extent so are Erica and Dustin (but they'll never admit it), and they all have mini gatherings together.

So, the casual mentioning of starcourt and specifically what went down with the Russians is commonplace for them. (Erica is quick to remind them she saved their asses, and are they so lame they need her help again? but she smiles and Steve and Robin just laugh and give her a big hug.) And somehow, they forget that not everyone really knows what went down before July 4th 1985.

And I want them to do it in front of everyone. I want them to have their stupid "this was so fucked up but we're alive and we got through it so now we have to laugh or we may never stop crying about it" banter at a big "we saved the world again!" Barbecue. I want the rest of the folks there to go silent and them not to notice.

I want someone to mention Steve not getting a black eye this time, congrats! and Robin going "the only reason why I didn't get one last time was because the Russians said-"

And Steve, who is lying with his head in her lap, reaches up to gently cup her cheek and says in a terrible Russian accent "don't worry, we will not ruin your pretty face!" (everyone is quiet around them, they do not notice)

She laughs. "And punched me in the gut a few more times. I peed blood for like, three days."

Steve goes "ewwww" only to be pinched by robin.

"you peed blood too, dingus. You got it worse than me and my pretty face."

He giggles and opens his hand up for a high five "pissing blood buddies, hell yeah!" And shifts in her lap. "But they bruised my pretty face. Rude."

"aww. It's okay, Stevie, your face is still so pretty. Prettiest boy in Hawkins."

"thanks Robin."

"at least Dustin and Erica got us out before they started ripping out fingernails." She shudders.

"or used the bonesaw"

"mmm. Unfortunately not before we got funky truth serum drugs though."

He leans up, looking at the two "y'all couldn't have been a bit faster?" But he's smiling, teasing. A well worn joke.

Dustin and Erica respond simultaneously with "I'm missing bones, Steve, what do you want from me?" And "I was ten and my legs were short as shit. Beggars can't be choosers." Respectively.

It is at this point an Actual Grown Up butts in.

"what. What do you mean ripping out fingernails?"

Robin and Steve look towards Joyce, who asked.

"like. To interrogate us? Because we just kept saying we worked for scoops even with the truth serum."

"because they thought we had to be superspies to get into their creepy lair and not a bunch of kids."

"mmhmm"

Hopper jumps in "wait. You were tortured by them?"

Robin and Steve give him eerily similar looks that express how obvious the answer to that is.

"yeah, duh."

"I don't go looking to get brain damage every year, you know."

Hoppers eye twitches. "Why didn't you say anything?"

#steve Harrington #robin Buckley #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #scoops troop #the party #stranger things #platonic stobin #stobin #i want eddie to be the only one who knows bc they were assigned to fill him in on the upsidedown so obvs it came up #and he is like that is so fucked up but i guess it works for you? hopefully? #steddie #mayhaps....if i ever write more of this lmao #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles

[uia-uia]

A Delightful Enconter

PJO

Pairings: Luke Castellan & Thalia Grace & Annabeth Chase x Platonic! Not Clearsighted Mortal! GN! Reader

Summary: Annabeth, Thalia and Luke are wandering after they're secret place is destroyed, then they meet you. Warnings: Platonic relationship of course. And it's (of course too) when they were younger. English is not my 1st language. Notes: Thank you for all your love! I never expected for my works to blow up. 😘

'Weird.' You thought. 'Why were such young kids alone at night? With no grown ups.'

You are seeing them trought your window, they are just sitting in the bus stop, but it doesn't look like they are taking a bus. For various reasons..it's 1 am; the oldest of them is at best 15, maybe younger..so they couldn't come from a party or something like that.

You feel symphaty for them, maybe they runned away? But they didn't look like they were siblings...

You get out of the window and start making tea and see at the drawer if you have any cookies, bad for them (and for you) you didn't have cookies, they can content themselvs with tea.

As the tea is ready you take three cups and put the tea in them. 'I hope they like lemon tea.' You think.

As you get out of the house, still in your pajama (you cross your fingers for the neighboors to be sleeping), you get close to the kids.

You see that all of them became alert, you see the girl with black hair clicking on her watch (and it came out a umbrella??), the little girl carrying a knife (what were the kids these days into??) and the older boy had a baseball bat. 'More efective than the umbrella.' You thought

"I don't want to make you bad. I just thought that children your age shouldn't be away from home this late." You say trying to calm them down.

"What am I holding?" The girl with black hair asks.

"An umbrella??" You look confused as hell.

But as you say that the kids take they're things away and look more calm.

"It's that tea?" The little girl asks smiling.

"Yeah, but it's a lemon one." You say. "If you don't like it I'm sorry."

"It's more than fine. Thank you." The boy says. 'It's the first time he is talking.' You think and give the three the tea.

"Thank you." The little girl says and the other girl whispers it.

"I don't want to be rude, but why are you outside this late?" You ask. The three look at eachother, with expressions like 'should we tell?'.

"We ran away from home." The boy says.

"What really?" You ask suprised. "Were your parents bad? Or.." After you can continue the black haired girl says:

"You have no idea how bad." The boy looks at her with a alarming look but she just shrugs.

"I see, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have a place to go?" You are really worried about these kids, they look like they ran away ages ago.

"No." The little girl says and you feel really bad, 'Should I say that they can saty the night at my house?' And you make a decision.

"If you want, you can stay the night with me. I insist."

They look at eachother again, 'They look like they are discussing with they're eyes.' You think.

"That would be wonderful thank you." You smile as the boy says that.

"Well, then.." You go to tour door and open it. "Make yourself comfortable." The three enter the house.

"You can sleep at the living room. I am at my room if you need something." You say. "And you can use the bathroom of course."

After you say that the boy gets up and goes to the bathroom, the black haired girl sits at the sofa and the little girl watches the books at the shelf. "You can take one if you want." You say to her. "Really?" She aks smiling. "Yeah, go ahead."

She takes one of the books, 'Ulisses', 'Weird taste but okay.' You think.

The boy gets out of the bathroom and after him the other girls go.

The boy helps you change the sofa to a bed and you discover that his name is 'Luke', the little girl's is 'Annabeth' and the blue eyed girl is 'Thalia'.

When they allare again at the living room they rest in the now bed.

"You can watch TV before sleeping if you want." You give them the remote.

"Thank you...?" Annabeth says.

"Y/N." You tell her and you put some chips and sandwichs at they're bags. "For your next journey."

Annabeth smiles at you again and Thalia nods.

"Thank you, for everything." Luke says.

"It's nothing, don't worry about that." You smile at them and go to your room, in the middle of the night you go see how they are, they are all sleeping, you smile and you turn off the TV.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♠︎୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

In the morning you go to your living room and see that they are not there. They even made the bed.

"Nice kids." You say to yourself.

And then you see a note at the book shelf.

'Thank you for everything Y/N.'

You smile again. "Really nice kids..."

#gn reader #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackson x platonic reader #platonic pjo please!! #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #luke castellan #annabeth chase #thalia grace #percy jackson x reader #Mortal reader #Spotify

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Propaganda:

For Orufrey: "They're tragic wlw who have devoted their lives to each other since they were kids. They live together, they cook together, they're raising four girls together and they're doing the best they can. Olruggio would do anything for Qifrey if Qifrey would just Let Him 😭 but Qifrey is dead-set on protecting Olruggio and keeping him safe and in the dark no matter what it costs... i cant 😭..."

"Man I don't know they just have the vibes. They have toxic yuri energy but they are two grown men. They've known each other since their apprentice days and have stuck together ever since. Qifrey's main magic type was something he took up because Olruggio proposed that he learned to control the water he feared. They live together away from most of society with Qifrey's four apprentices, living the sapphic cottagecore (ateliercore???) dream. Qifrey, due to the fact that his eyesight is very much failing, something which is very problematic when it comes to witches, who need their eyesight more than most, is getting very desperate to get all he lost to the Brimhats, the witches who took one of his eyes and his memories, and Olruggio ends up noticing this pursuit and is implied to have done this more than once. Qifrey does not want Olruggio to know about both his failing eyesight and his goals, so he ends up completely wiping Olruggio's memory of those things, and laments that Olruggio is a kind person, and one who would most likely forgive him again, but also one who would try to save him, even when he didn't want to be saved. He also apologized right up until the moment Olruggio's memories of his secret were gone. In general I think chapter 40 is the somewhat toxic guy yuri chapter ever. I'm very tired so I do not know how to explain any of this, I just thought "wow Orufrey reminds me of this one poll I saw on Tumblr" and then spent three days straight hunting for your blog before completely forgetting my reasoning for Orufrey being yuri right before I submitted this."

For Joongdok: "Well first of all Yoo Joonghyuk has a whole arc that is transfem coded as hell (has a power/technique that can technically only be used by women but somehow he can also use it, for a time he even turns into a woman to wield it and it's. Actually just let me get the quote "The ines of the face had changed but it was clearly Yoo Joonghyuk. No, it was even more than before.") that just kinda happens,, and doesn't get brought up again but anyway. Second of all just look at them. You see the vision. Also a bonus observation is that these two often get shipped in a poly ship with Han Sooyoung and whenever I see people make a "regular couple, yaoi couple, yuri couple, I see no difference love is love" meme with them the combination of which pair among these three is which of the categories is always different"

Note: This submission also mentions Han Sooyoung, but I decided to count this polyship submission as guy yuri as well.

"They love each other, they pretend they don't care for each other but all their actions prove they care too much, if you remove someone from the trio then the resulting duo is extremely dysfunctional, as evidenced by more than a million words of canon. Is it technically guy yuri? Well, Han Sooyoung is a woman, but in a way she's one of the guys. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are men, but the text heavily hints that Yoo Joonghyuk is a trans woman who's just too busy and stressed out to transition yet, and Kim Dokja has just never thought about his own gender a single day in his life. They made the world for each other, they went back in time countless times and waged countless wars for each other, they wrote and read and lived a story, their story, for each other and that's what saved them all. The way Han Sooyoung writes Yoo Joonghyuk's story to save Kim Dokja and loses herself in the process, the way Yoo Joonghyuk voluntarily lives the story to the point of losing himself too and even forgetting why he originally decided to do it, the way Kim Dokja read Han Sooyoung's story which was Yoo Joonghyuk's life and that's how he found himself, they all took so much from each other and gave so much of themselves to each other, this is all very yuri."

"they're so yuri you have no idea. they have every staple of a yuri ship. unwavering devotion. waiting dozens or thousands of years for each other. dooming themselves and the world for each other. so much yearning. i also see them genderbent a lot (including inn canon in the case of yjh) and they're right both of these people are women. i genuinely can't even see them strictly as men at this point they're just yjh and kdj and they are yuri do you understand."

"they're so yuri. the abscense of yuri is the presence of yuri etc etc. these two guys are all ABOUT abscenses. also one of them is a part time woman. the other guy is a guy but like in the same way a square is a rectangle. anyway they're so guyyuri to me. bonus points also because they have a mutual girlfriend and when she's present they're girlyaoi but that's not relevant to this specifically"

#guy yuri round 2 #orufrey #joongdok #witch hat atelier #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #wha #olruggio #qifrey #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja