#so now people are gonna stand up against you

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 9 - Smackdown

Warnings: Physical abuse

You wake up to a painfully bright light. Opening your eyes you notice you're in a hospital.

So, like any poor person who can't afford a trip to the hospital, you panic. You sit up straight and try to ignore the slightly discomfort in your body. A hand rests itself on your shoulder and you jump slightly, your spider sense were muddled up currently due to the cafe incident.

When you turn to see who placed the hand on your shoulder you almost scream.

Duke Thomas. Duke fucking Thomas.

This is officially the worst day of your life. How could it not be?

Duke seems to be saying something but you can't find the motivation to listen, he looks worried. People could say Duke was the kindest, most normal person in the Wayne family but you could see right through him.

Something was wrong with him. He's dangerous. He has to be, why else would your senses go into hyperdrive whenever he's around. Sure, he's the most tolerable out of them all but that doesn't make him instantly better.

-

Duke stops talking once he notices your dazed look. You look scared.

He furrows his brows and removes the hand from your shoulder, he slowly grabs your hand - so gentle he may as well think it was cracked glass.

"Y/N..?" He mutters, cursing himself silently due to how awkward it sounded coming out of his mouth. Your name was rarely uttered in the family, all talks being through messages and when talking in real life it was always 'that girl' or 'Aranea's hater'.

Never Y/N.

Duke had mixed feelings about you. He doesn't know what to think.

If only you'd just speak with Aranea, things would be so much easier. You wouldn't be so tormented. That look in your eyes - apprehension, fear, and something else he can't decipher - makes him pity you, you have opinions, they just happen to be the wrong ones.

Before Duke can speak up once more to try and snap you out of your dazed state the hospital door slams open.

Both your heads whip to the door a disheveled looking Dick Grayson is leaning against, heaving for breath.

It certainly snapped you out of it. Great. Just your luck. What is he even doing here? Gonna dump more water on you? Ruin more of your belongings? Rub in the fact you ended up in hospital?

To your surprise - and, honestly, horror - Dick rushes to your side and looks you over...

As if afraid of losing you..? What? Are you hallucinating?

You manage to hear his mutterings, his breathless whispers. It immediately enrages you.

"Thank fuck you aren't dead... I would feel so guilty.."

He would feel guilty? Him?

What about you. Not everything revolves around him.

You're the one that was 'pranked'.

You're the one that had the allergic reaction.

You're the one who now has to deal with her parent's wrath once they see the hospital bill.

With all the strength you have you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. None of them reach out to try and stable you when you stumble slightly.

You take a deep breath before glaring at Dick, you hope your hatred can override your exhaustion so you can actually look threatening.

"What are you doing here." You ask, though it wasn't phrased as a question - moreso a demand. You watch as Dick fiddles with something behind his back before sighing and handing it to you.

"I.. I wanted to apologize for the stunt I pulled. It was shitty of me to do. I bought you a new phone to make up for it though!"

You can do nothing but stare down at the phone in it's box. It was one of the expensive ones your parents always talk about wanting. You know for sure that if you arrived home they'd snatch it from you and hand one of their beat up phones in exchange.

So generous.

"Thanks, Dick..."

What else was there to do but sigh and thank him? He seems proud at your gratitude before turning and heading for the door. He stops before leaving and looks over his shoulder.

"No wonder you're a shitty person, you're room is super shitty." With a chuckle he then, finally, leaves. You hunch over in agitation. You are so done with the Wayne family - and you still need to deal with Duke.

Speaking of, his voice finally reaches your ears.

"Y/N..? Sorry for Dick's comments. That was super underhanded." You side eye him while he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly - what is he? an anime protagonist?

"And, uh, about the whole hospital thing, I can pay if need be!" He looks like he's ready to argue with you about it, as if you were going to reject his offer.

And at first you were, before you realized being indebted to the Waynes is infinitely better than being beaten so hard you see Bruce's parent's stupid faces by your dad.

"Okay." Is all you say, shooting him a thumbs up before looking to see if you had your bag - nope! You just gotta hope Sherri or Tia have it.

Duke looks flabbergasted for a minute before composing himself. "R-Right, yeah, sorry, I expected more.. Fight?" You watch as he visibly cringes and you can't help but deadpan.

You're from an impoverish family, one that wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. You are NOT risking anything.

"Hm. Well, you offered. I'm not going to decline such a wonderful and generous offer!" You try to hide your sneer but it seeps through your words no matter how hard you try.

With that you walk out of the room and to the receptionist at the front of the hospital. You explain how Duke is paying and leave.

The only good thing in Gotham is that the Hospitals are so out of line you could claim Bruce Wayne is paying and they'd just put him down.

Obviously no one is bold enough to do so in fear of Bruce noticing.

Walking home seemed quicker than normal, maybe you were just too eager to go home and collapse on your bed.

You quietly open the door to the apartment, it was already getting dark so you had to be careful.

But, once more, this is most definitely not your day.

Both your parents are up, you can hear your mom muttering to your dad about having a visitor. You walk into the kitchen, hungry, tired, and so done with everything you don't care if your parents hurt you.

Your mother shoots a glare to you while your father busies himself with his food - eating like a greedy pig.

"Where have you been?! We had a HIGHLY important guest here for you and you never arrived!" Her shrill voice grates on your ears and you turn to the pantry, hoping there would be something to eat.

"I was busy... School work and stuff.." You mutter, if you told your mom about the hospital visit she'd lose her head and you'd be on the streets in the blink of an eye.

That would mean your begging with Tim would be for nothing - you'd look like a fool for nothing.

"Stop muttering, child! That's not excusable! Now- What's that..?" You're mother cuts herself off once her eyes catch onto the new and expensive-looking box in your hand.

You hesitate before holding it out, she would've taken it from you anyway, best not to put up a fight.

"... Mr Grayson got me a new phone after accidentally breaking mine" You speak up, louder than before. You mom hated when you spoke under your breath, made her feel like she is the only one who can speak in the house.

She yanks it out of your hands and looks over it, your dad also seems to draw his attention to it. His eyes narrowing as he takes in the fancy thing in your mother's hands.

Your mother turns it around in her hands "Hm... You know, you don't need such a nice phone... You're only in high school. I'll take this and you can have my one!" She grins cockily.

Your dad slams his hands on the table and glares at you and your mom.

"Where is my one" he signs angrily. You gulp, you're in serious danger now..

"I.. Dick didn't get a second.. The phone was meant for me is all!" Your words falling out of your mouth like vomit.

To say your dad isn't happy would be an understatement. Your mom, noticing his demeanor, hums and says something about taking a shower as she leaves the kitchen.

Your dad stands up, fists clenched, he walks around the bench and stalks up to you. You take a step back, you can see your hands shaking in front of you as you brace for impact.

One punch across your jaw, a kick to the knee, a pull to your hair that brings you to the floor with a cry.

if it was a criminal and you were Aranea you would fight back, defend yourself. But, this is your dad, you can't bring yourself to fight back - you hate him, god you hate him.

A kick directs itself into your stomach, then your lips, then back down to your ribcage. You swear your gums are bleeding, you feel blood drip from your busted lip.

You do what you usually do when confronted with this situation.

You zone out, pretend you're in a better world, a better life.

Eventually you go unconscious, unaware of when or how. When you wake up you're on the kitchen floor and the morning light casts in your eyes like a lamp that's too bright.

You groan and sit up, blood on your tongue, your clothes, and your skin. You'll need to have a quick shower because school starts in an hour.

~

Taglist

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[jjscrybaby]

thinking about “who did this to you?” and frat!boy rafe 🤭 his girl is always at his frat house and one night at a party, he’s looking for her and can’t find her. He eventually finds her crying and maybe with light bruises on her wrists or something? protective frat!rafe 🥰

rafe cameron x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (creepy guy, wrist grabbing, bruising, protective!rafe, mentions of anxiety, sort of shy!reader,)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The lights were giving you a headache. Topper thought it was funny to repetitively switch the main light on and off, to try and give the room a rave vibe. Most people inside were too fucked up to be annoyed by it, but you weren’t. You’d only had two vodka cranberries, and honestly all you wanted to do was crawl into Rafe’s bed and go to sleep.

During the majority of these parties you’d be glued to your boyfriend’s side, hanging off his arm like a trophy, but tonight was different. You were trying to branch out more, stop being so anxious at these things. Rafe loves a party, and being his girlfriend you should as well. So, for the last hour you’ve been roaming around; making minimal contact with him.

You left the main room with a huff, rubbing your temple as you walked out into the hall. There was no-one in sight, and you let out a sigh of relief that you had a moment alone. You sat down on the floor, leaning your head back against the wall. The door to the bathroom opened and a boy, one you hadn’t seen before, walked out.

“You alright?” He asked, looking down at you in amusement.

“I’m fine, just takin’ a break,” you explained. You didn’t want to speak to him, but it would be rude to send him away; especially with the mission you were on tonight.

“Mind if I join you?” He questioned. You didn’t even get to respond, he was already sitting down next to you. “I’m Parker, by the way.” You introduced yourself, shaking his outstretched hand. “Ah, you’re Cameron’s girl?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, just the mention of him had your mood lifting. Maybe you should just give up with the outgoing thing, maybe you should just go and find—

“You don’t seem like his type.” The statement caught you off guard, all thoughts leaving your head as you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“What does that mean?” You wondered, trying to sound calm.

He let out a hum, as if deep in thought, before shrugging his shoulders and giving you a smirk. “Rafe’s, like, into all this shit, y’know? Parties, drinking, drugs. You’re sat in the hallway alone.”

“Opposites attract,” you shrugged back, picking at the pink nail polish on your nails.

“That is the saying,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I just think maybe, a pretty girl like you, deserves someone that’s more like her. Someone that would sit with her in the hallway, for example.”

You thought he was degrading you, like the rest of Rafe’s fanboys usually did. But, you realised now that wasn’t the case. He was your fanboy. You let out an awkward chuckle, looking to the door that hadn’t opened since you stepped out. You prayed for someone, anyone, to need the bathroom.

“I’m gonna head back in—” you decided to screw the anxiety, and just do what was necessary.

“Why?” He interrupted. He didn’t sound quite so friendly anymore. “We’re hangin’ out, don’t go in yet.”

“I need to find Rafe.” You tried to stand, but his fingers gripped onto your wrist to stop you. You winced in pain, his hold only tightened. “Get off.”

“No—” your prayers were answered as the door opened, a drunken couple came stumbling through. The sudden interruption had him letting go of you, and you swiftly rushed away.

You ran upstairs, through the corridor of boy’s bedrooms, until you reached Rafe’s. With tears in your eyes, you pushed open the door and laid down in his bed.

It only took ten minutes for the door to open again, you flinched; thinking that maybe Parker had followed you up here, but you let out a shaky sigh of relief at the sight of Rafe.

“Hey, baby. There you are, been lookin’ all over— are you crying?” He interrupted himself, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No,” you blatantly lied through your tears, voice coming out muffled.

He wrapped his arms around you, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Hey, what happened? It get a bit overwhelmin’? You could have told me, you know I’d much rather sit up here with you.”

“Not exactly…” you reached up to move your hair from your eye-line, you realised your mistake the moment that gentle look in his eyes dropped.

“What is that?” He grabbed your arm, not harshly but forcefully. Your wrist had turned a bright red colour, bruises would be forming soon enough.

“Nothing!” You squeaked out, trying to pull your arm away from him.

“Don’t bullshit me. That wasn’t there earlier. What happened?” He demanded to know. You knew he was serious, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice.

You gave in, tears rolling down your cheeks as you explained to him what happened with the boy. He stroked over your wrist, a moment of silent going over the two of you before he leant forward and kissed your temple.

“Get changed, put on a movie. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” He murmured softly.

“Where’re you going?” You asked nervously, you were pretty sure you already knew the answer.

“To sort out that fuckin’ kid. No one puts their hands on you, get it?” He stated, pecking your lips before getting off the bed.

You didn’t argue, there was no point. Rafe was too in love with you, if someone hurt you he’d do just about anything to get payback.

[musings-of-a-mermaidd]

Sevika Drabble MDNI 18+

This is my first post so ofc it had to be my bby sevika. 

At no point did I know what was doing, and I lost the plot several times. Enjoy! 

Warnings ) kinda bad writing, literally no plot, fem!reader ,  dry humping ( but It gets wet iykwim ), oral r!receiving , 20 something reader x late 30’s - mid 40’s sevika

Being the infamous woman she is you were always aware of her existence. You’ve even passed her in the street once or twice. 

But this time was different. 

As cliche as it might sound a bolt of lighting ran through you as your eyes met.

The chaotic chattering of the market disappeared leaving only silence, and her. 

Sevika visibly halted, her stoic expression shifting into a knowing smirk.

You had hardly taken a full breath before she was standing a foot away, her eyes lit up, uncharacteristically inviting. Was this really Slico’s dangerous and ruthless right-hand (wo)man you had heard people mention so fearfully? 

That day she flirted with her entire being, calling you “a pretty little thing” as she paid for your groceries and carried them to your apartment. Making a mental note to lecture you later on your stupidly trusting nature.  

You both paused awkwardly outside your apartment complex,

“ Could I take you out someti-“ 

You cut her off inviting her up for a glass of water something about “ standing out in the sun so long  .” You both knew it was a lie, heavy grey clouds hanging above your heads. She didn’t look up.

That day she toyed with you for hours.

High-pitched moans rang out through your living room.

Sevika roughly pulled your hips back and forth against her upper thigh. Your prior orgasm soaked through your jeans onto hers, leaving a dark grey splotch in its wake. 

“ Ohh fuck” you were practically squealing, the stitching of your jeans catching your clit perfectly.

The slightly uncomfortable feeling of wet denim only added to the eroticism.

“ You sound so pretty, baby.”

Sevika canted her hips up shamelessly grinding against your knee. 

“ Fuck that’s good, mmmh “Her groans became whiney as she stopped moving your hips, squeezing them in her hold, focused on taking her pleasure. 

Her body shuddered as she came, hips never stopping while she chased the tail end of her climax. 

Your cunt clenched at her blissed-out face and heavy moans. 

You subconsciously began to swivel your hips and quickly you could feel the approach of your orgasm. 

“Fuck baby uh-hhh you gonna come for me?” Her flesh hand slid up to your ass grabbing a harsh handful and effectively pushing you into her. 

She leaned up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was loud and messy, spit gathering between your lips.

You were babbling into her mouth. 

“Vika pleaseee ohhh please”  

“ You do not have to beg pretty baby, come for me “ 

She held eye contact while she flexed the muscles in her leg effectively bringing you to orgasm. 

In that moment the world disappeared no thoughts of anything but here and now, fully present with the beautiful woman under you. 

Finally, she sagged onto the couch resting her head along the wall behind it (she tall asf ) 

Heavy-lidded grey eyes staring so intensely and that fucking smirk. 

Once she caught her breath she scooped you in her arms effortlessly. ( no matter your weight bc she is BEEFY) 

Stopping along the way to the bedroom to put both pairs of pants soaked in your essence in the wash. 

While your clothes were washing she cleaned up her mess, with you sitting on top of the dryer 

She licked, sucked, and slurped your throbbing clit. Looking up at you the entire time 

“ Fuck baby this little cunt might be sweeter than you” 

Thick fingers breached your walls with little to no resistance, your previous orgasms left you sopping. 

She relentlessly pounded your g-spot, fingers bending in a rapid come hither movement. 

By the time the spin cycle began, you had completely lost count of how many times you had cum. 

She gave you a break of course. 

The 5-ish seconds it took her to finish her journey to your bedroom.

You bounced as she tossed you onto the bed carelessly. 

“ Strip “ an order 

Not a question nor a request 

You should’ve been embarrassed at how obediently you listened but as she began taking off the rest of her clothes, not a single thought appeared in your mind. 

Her sculpted figure somehow made you wetter than you were 

Thick muscular thighs that could crush you and oh how you wish they would. 

Her Meech arm rested by her side limply, it was obvious she was being very careful with it, you couldn’t have cared less. 

She flexed subtly, rolling her eyes at the way your thighs fell open. 

She practically pounced on the bed, uncaring of the way her weight rested along your body. 

The pressure was borderline euphoric, your body sunk into the mattress as you floated further away from reality. 

Sevike pressed the base of her strap into your cunt. ( idk where the strap came from bear with me )  

Bending down to look at the way the tip almost reached your belly button. 

Your legs hung heavily over her shoulders as you made out, Vika sawing her heavy cock back and forth over your cunt 

Her flesh hand around your neck, not squeezing just holding. 

“ Vika pl - please fuck me uhh I need it pleassee” 

She could’ve laughed at how pitifully you whined when she declined. 

“ Baby what kind of a lady do you take me for, I need to be wined and dined before I give it up.” She said teasingly, quickly squeezing  your neck to emphasize her words  

She made you cum two more times while her pants dried. 

She wiped you down, put your groceries away,  changed your sheets, and scheduled your date for that weekend before she left. 

However, she came back two days later after a particularly hard night cleaning up after jinx. 

She fucked you within an Inch of your life. You entered the restaurant hand in hand, both covered in hickeys and bruises. 

Thank you soo much for reading, please excuse the slightly rushed ending lol. 

I hope you liked It!  

Also please feel free to send some asks! 

[sweetdispatch]

Who's a loser now - J. Hughes

Purple Chemistry | Previous Chapter

summary: Everything looked normal between you and Jack until the first game between Rangers and Devils

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), dom!Jack, spanking, orgasm denial, swearing

words: 1.2k

note: sorry for the wait🧸

---

In the middle of October, Jack showed up at your place. The first time since the fight you had. You were delighted to see him again. Straight to the point, he kissed you and you ended up in your bed. This time, he hadn’t left you and stayed for the night. You were happy that he didn’t run away. You woke up to an empty spot in your bed and thought that he left. You went to the kitchen to start your day with breakfast when you saw him sitting on the couch. 

“I need a favour from you” He started.

“I’m listening” You started to prepare yourself a cup of coffee.

“I have a halloween party and I need a pair. Can you go with me?” He asked you with hope in his voice.

“You want me to go to Devils halloween party? You’re funny” You laughed at the thought. 

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” 

“Nothing but” You took a deep breath. “Don’t you think it’s gonna be weird for me to show up at your party while I’m standing on the opposite side?” 

“No one needs to know you're a Rangers fan. I promise, I’ll keep that to myself. Please” He begged you.

“Fine but you owe me Jack” 

“Anything” He stood up and kissed your cheek. “I’ll send you all the informations later” 

As promised, you went with Jack to the halloween party. You two decided to dress up as Spongebob and Patrick. It summed you two perfectly as friends. Everything was going smoothly until you met Jack’ brother, Luke. You were chatting with him and learnt a lot of things about Jack which you never heard before. It was great until he pointed out your hockey team.

“You know, it’s brave to show up to our party while being a fan of the rival team” He joked but you froze on the spot. 

“How did you know?” You whispered, not wanting others to hear it. 

“Jack told me that when you had a huge argument. He got back and started talking about how you were mad at him because we won against Rangers” 

“First of all, that’s not true. I just had a bad day and took it out on him. Ugh, I know it was a bad idea to be here. How many people know about it?” You started biting your own nails.

“No one. Jack told me to keep my mouth shut about it” You sighed.

You decided not to confront Jack about it. You knew that he wouldn’t lie to you. Actually he kept his promise because he told his brother about it before he asked you to be his plus one at a party. You understood that Luke is his brother and he tells him everything that’s why you held your tongue. You had a great night with Jack which ended up in your bed. It felt incredible to be close again with him but the tension was still there.

It was time for the first game of the season between the New Jersey Devils and New York Rangers. It was held in Prudential Center so it meant more for Jack because he played at home. After two promising preseason games against Rangers, Devils lost. Jack got two points in this game but he was pissed over the loss. 

You smiled when you saw the result. It felt incredible to win the derby in New Jersey. You couldn’t attempt this game but watched it at home. Remembering how cocky Jack was after the two wins in preseason, you decided to play his game. You sent him a cheeky message. 

“That’s why no one cares about the preseason games, enjoy the lost x”

It was a simple message and after you hit the send button, you didn’t really think about it. After Jack got ready to return to his apartment, he grabbed his phone and saw the message from you. He was furious. He didn’t reply to it but decided to drive to your apartment instead and take his anger out on you. 

After two hours, you heard loud pounding at your door. You went to open the door and you saw Jack who looked mad. Before you could say anything, he pinched you to the wall and grabbed your throat. You widen your eyes at his action.

“You think you’re funny huh? That it nice to read messages like this?” He asked you a question but you couldn’t answer. “I think you need a reminder who’s a loser here”

Jack pulled you by your arm and bent you over the kitchen island. In a quick move he took your sweatpants and underwear. The next thing you felt was his hand on your bare ass. He repeated this couple more times. With each spank, he was using more power. Tears were floating from your eyes but you enjoyed this change in him. When you thought Jack’ done with you, you tried to move but he kept you in the same spot.

“Don’t you fucking dare to move” He said through his teeth. “You won’t get so easily from this” 

Jack unbuckled his belt and got rid of his pants and underwear. He took off his suit jacket and pulled the wallet from pocket. He grabbed a condom and tossed the wallet on the ground. He pushed his whole length into you and started moving. He was thrusting hard into you and you tried to grab something. With each move your whole body was moving on the kitchen island. You were a moaning mess under him and it was turning him even more.

“Please Jack, don’t stop. I’m so close” You breathed out and heard Jack’ laugh.

“Funny that you think I’ll let you cum. You need to earn it and today, you didn’t do it” He said and spanked you again. 

You were surprised to hear this. Jack always let you cum no matter how mad he was. This was new to you and deep down you hoped that he'll give you an orgasm. There’s no way he leaves you undone - you thought to yourself. You felt his dick stretching your pussy and any minute you would cum. He could feel that too. He knows your body like the back of his hand. With one final thrust, he cum into the condom and pulled out of you before you could cum. 

“Why would you do that?” You cried feeling empty without him and unsatisfied. 

“I told you, you need to earn it and with this bitchy comment you’re far from that” He answered while putting his pants back on. “Be lucky that I didn’t edge you five times like I planned at first”

You put back your sweatpants and looked at him. Jack could tell that you’re mad at him. He caressed your cheek and pecked your forehead. Just like that, he left your apartment and you stood in the kitchen trying to process what just happened. You couldn’t understand why he was pissed at you after the text message but you couldn’t when he was mocking you about the preseason games.

Couple days later, Jack sent you flowers with an apology note. You laughed when you got them at work because that was cheesy from him. You wanted to stay mad at him but you couldn’t. He meant too much for you but you still felt like you’re his sex doll. No matter how hard you tried, he still wasn’t trusting you.

---

Next Chapter

[noxusstrap]

"I'll Get It Right This Time" An Ekko Time-Travel Fix It Fic

Ok so Hi! This is my first time ever dipping my toes into Tumblr posting besides just coming on here and reading some godly one-shots.

Im posting my fic here, as well as AO3, just in case!

Hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTER I : THE BOY WHO SHATTERED TIME

Ekko felt like he was gonna hurl.

 Heimerdinger wasn't supposed to- he wasn't supposed to sacrifice himself like that, Powder wasn't supposed to come in during the process, wasn't supposed to see the real him, and he was so sure he wasn't supposed to see the expression she made at him so full of Love and Affection; but it all happened and he didn't know what to do now. He always thought himself to be the most sensible and sane of his former friends; but, now? Now he just wants to go back to his Jinx and save his people.

But the Universe had other plans.

He felt the hairs on his neck begin to stand up and he instinctively knew. The Hex Core was acting up, and he didn't know what to do. All it took was a single glance at the Z-Drive before everything went white.

_____

The first thing he could feel was the paved road beneath him, followed by the sounds of a bustling street and that distinct smell of Home.

It worked. 

Ekko sat up and silently cheered.

He was back! Only-

He paused and looked around, and everything was bigger than what he remembers, and that's when he noticed it; his hands were tiny. His child-like hands were just barely hanging onto the Z-Drive, or rather, what remained of it. The Hexcore glowed softly within the now shattered confinements of the Z-drive. The monkeys seemingly rusted like they've been used for decades rather than just a handful of times and all he could do was stare.

Oh Janna.

The device worked alright, but it worked too well, now; he's stuck in the past with no way back to the future.

It was supposed to only be four seconds…HOW COULD IT HAVE THROWN HIM OVER A DECADE TO THE PAST?!

“Fuck,” he sighed, just barely stopping himself from banging his head against the alley wall; he wasnt going to look a gifted horse in the mouth; he had gotten a once-in-a-lifetime chance and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. First things first, he had to figure out what day he was sent back to, and more importantly, what can he prevent from happening this time around to benefit the future?

Just as he was about to take a step out of the alley, he paused. He took a small glance at the Z-Drive; it was too big to disguise it as anything, and it would look suspicious if a small little child was carrying a device that looked like it could be worth millions even though it was severely damaged. He looked around, ducking between the dumpsters in the alley before finding a satchel, it was big enough to hold the broken Z-Drive but not big enough to arouse suspicion.

Ekko hummed, put the machine in the satchel and made his way out of the alley.

_____

His body instinctively carried him to Benzo’s Pawn Shop though his mind was absent, stirring with thoughts and possibilities of a different future, one where Jinx, Vi, Vander, and everyone else are still alive and well; it was dangerous to hope for that future. (he wanted to hope so so so badly-)

His thoughts come to a halt when they reach Jayce and his dear friend and partner, Viktor. He knew there was a universe out there where Hextech was never invented and it was an almost perfect world; of course he would know, he lived through it.

He paused right at the entrance of the shop, everything he could hear around him quieted to a light hum.

Just because Hextech went bad in one future doesn't mean we can't have good Hextech ideas and innovations. We just have to stop whatever the fuck Viktor did with the Hexcore; whatever it was. And- maybe bring Heimerdinger into this mess he made.

Ekko smirked and pushed open the doors. The ding of the bell rang resolutely throughout the small shop, and his false bravado fades as quickly as it appeared.

What if Benzo’s already Dead?

What if I arrived so much later than I predicted?

Was Powder still Powder?

Is Vander still Alive?

What if-

“Hey little man, where have you been all day, ey?” 

Ekko slowly looked towards the back of the shop, where the noise originated from. He knew that voice; he knew it better than anyone, but he couldn't just let himself hope before seeing him for himself.

He clutched the straps of the satchel holding the Z-Drive and took a single step towards the back room, before he could take another, a hand emerged from the back. He KNEW that hand.

And then he saw him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to the shop, you just ran off and it’s dan-” Benzo gets cut off by Ekko slamming into his stomach at nearly sub-human speeds for a hug. He stumbles slightly, taken aback at the sheer strength Ekko showed, and lightly chuckled. “Woah there! Almost made me fall there, when did you get so strong Little Man!” He teases. 

Ekko let out an inaudible whimper, tightened his hold just a little more before releasing Benzo.

“Always been this strong Benzo.” Ekko’s voice miraculously kept an even tone despite everything in him wanting to cry and bury his face into the arms of his pseudo-father.

Benzo knew something was bothering Ekko, and he knew it had something to do with whatever he was carrying in that satchel of his, but chose not to pry, he could tell me what's going on if he really wanted me to know, he reasoned. Instead, he nuzzled Ekko’s hair and hummed, nodding to himself before slowly making his way to the back of the store.

“Listen kid-” Benzo stops in his tracks and calls over his shoulder, “Whatever you do, just be safe.” He smiles, and with that, he leaves. Ekko tries to get his body to move, to do anything, but it refused to listen. All he could do was watch the man he admired so much go back to his work.

Calm down, you need to calm down,Ekko chided himself, trying to psych himself up.

Everything’s okay, Benzo being here means Vander hasn't died yet, that means Claggor and Mylo are still alive and Power is still Powder. Ekko looked around the various shelves of knick knacks and useful items, his eyes gliding through them before stopping on a particular piece of hardware. It looked familiar, but where had he seen it before?

He narrowed his eyes, his mind fixated on this one piece; he knew this was before the deaths of everyone he loved but why was this specific piece of scrap ringing some sort of bell in his brai-

It was the last piece Jayce bought from them to complete his work.

Ekko felt bells frantically go off in his head; this means he was sucked back two months before Jayce’s apartment got blown up, two months before Ekko told anyone about the young scholar he scammed over the last couple of mechanisms needed to complete a project, two months was all he got to work with.

He cursed silently, his mind scrambling to make a cohesive plan with the amount of time he had at his disposal. If he could fix the Z-Drive, it would make his life so much easier, but as he took a single glance into the satchel, he decided it was best to leave that particular project on the back burner for now. He wouldn't even know where to begin with the Z-Drive without Heimerdinger's help, and even then, this wasn't his Heimerdinger anymore, this wasn't the brilliant Professor casted out of the Council; this isn't the Professor who found solace and companionship within the Firelights; this isn't the professor who sacrificed everything for him to be here right now.

Speaking of the Firelights, would they even be able to form now that he’s trying to fix everything? Would he be willing to establish the Firelights again for the sake of providing a sanctuary for the people of the Lanes? Oh without a doubt. But, he muses, it would be a couple of years from now that it would happen; for now, he needed to think of what to do, and he needed to write it down fast.

He scrambled to his little hideout on top of the shop, his fingers gliding through the first piece of paper he could find at lightning speeds, his mind running a hundred miles a minute, trying to formulate a plan that's feasible in two months, or 8 weeks, or if you really want to get technical, 1,460 hours. When he stopped writing, his hand was cramping, seemingly bruised from all the back and forth on the paper, but his mind was clear and his heart was finally beginning to hope for a better future this time around.

EKKO’S PLAN FOR ABSOLUTE WORLD DOMINATION (SAVING EVERYONES ASSES)

Stop Silco from mass producing Shimmer (Stop Silco in general by ANY means necessary) ((I want whatever they had in the Other world to happen here))

DON'T LET POWDER BECOME JINX! (maybe recruit her in his plans?) ((who is this ‘Isha’ girl I keep seeing in my dreams of my reality? Was she real? Why was she with Jinx?))

Prevent Jayce from fucking things up this time around (maybe help out with his experiments? Perhaps give him a reason to not fuck up the trade with Zaun with the Hexgates?)

Never let Claggor and Mylo die this time around. (They deserve a better future than what they got)

Get Heimerdinger to help turn Zaun into a Utopia (he mentioned doing so much in such little time? Was he the one who made Zaun a better place?)

Re-Establish the Firelights in case things go awry.

Fix the Z-Drive whenever possible (I don't want it to malfunction and bring more problems with it)

He looked at the now hung plan on his wall. He had two months to do everything on his list, and if they tried to stop him, he would make it EVERYONE'S problem. He knew the first thing on his agenda was regrettably the most time-consuming; but he couldn't afford to waste more time. He had to find a way to stop Silco even if it meant killing the guy, (he knew he had some good in him; he saw it in the alternate timeline, if he could just figure out what cause him to turn good in that timeline, it would make his life so much eas-). He had everything on the line, and he wasn't going to LOSE this time.

Let the games begin. Ekko smirked.

Am I gonna go insane writing this? Oh ABSOLUTELY!

Do I Care? FUCKKKKKK NOOOOOO!!!!!

Let me know what yall think; its my first time posting kinda nervy..

[em1989ts]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭

five hargreeves x reader

part one.

word count: 2.2k

summary: you wake up in the apocalypse, with no memory of what life was like before. five years later, you meet another survivor. what happens when the two of you reluctantly decide to work together?

author's note: sorry i took a little break lol, now that school is starting again i have motivation to write so i'm continuing this story that i forgot about. part two is gonna have all the good stuff: enemies, tension, smut, so hopefully i can finish that this week ;) enjoy!

not proofread!

You were on fire. 

The skin on your arm felt as if it were melting off as you sat up quickly, patting your opposite hand against the flame to put it out. A large hole was fringed into the sleeve of your shirt, framing the bubbling pink flesh of the burn on the outside of your arm. You grimaced as you stared at it, the pain remarkable and all you could think of before you fully registered where you were. 

The sky was a dimming blue, telling you the sun had set not long ago. You would soon be in pitch darkness if it weren’t for the hundreds of glowing fires surrounding you. 

Looking around, you couldn’t find anything familiar. Nothing to recognize. Nothing that would give you a hint as to where you were or how you got there. 

You racked through your brain for anything that would tell you what caused this.

Climbing off the pile of rubble, you carefully walked through the bricks and glass to find flat ground, gagging as you saw the state of the main road. 

There were bodies. People were burnt. People were in pieces. 

Turning around, you noticed limbs sticking out from the piles and piles of concrete. People were crushed. 

You yelled and screamed, running around pleading for someone to hear you, to call out to you. 

You wished there was another survivor but there wasn’t. 

Something bad had happened here. 

And you were the last one standing. 

~~ 

It had been five years since that night. The first night of your new life in the apocalypse.

As an eighteen year old, you have become adjusted to living on your own, surviving however you can, even if it means eating cockroaches for dinner. You still couldn’t remember what caused the end of the world, or how you even survived, but after years of searching, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the sole survivor. 

The only reason you could come up with to explain your survival was a glitch in the matrix. After years of brainstorming through the little memories you had, only bits and pieces made sense. Of course you knew your name, you knew you lived in New York City because that’s where you woke up, you knew you were thirteen when it all started, but that was pretty much it. A newspaper you found during one of your first few days in the apocalypse told you the date of which it happened: April 1st, 2019. This never made sense to you, due to the fact that you were born in 1989. How could you have possibly woken up in the future?

At first, you were extremely cautious. Examining bodies that lay in the street, making sure there were no bites taken out of them, in fear of the possibility that zombies were somehow the end of the world. But no, no zombies. Not even killer robots. The most logical explanation you could think of was a natural disaster. Possibly an asteroid impact that shattered the globe and scorched its people, but who knows. 

The apocalypse was hard to adjust to, having to teach yourself a lot in order to survive, but soon enough you knew how to live a stable life on your own. 

You learned to wield weapons, always having a loaded gun or sharpened knife with you, just in case you ever found someone alive who would try to fight you for your supplies, yet no one ever did. 

Until today.

You had been walking down the highway for a few days now, heading south for the winter to escape the cold. Dragging your wagon behind you, which carried all your necessities, you noticed a gas station on the side of the road in the distance. Your food rations had been running low, so you were thrilled to be able to stock up before continuing your travels. 

Swerving through the abandoned cars that were left on the road, full of bones, you quickly walked to the rest stop. You would’ve opted for running but you did your best to preserve your energy for when it was needed most. 

Like always, there were no footprints indicating there were others present. No signs of survivors, just the occasional pile of bones. 

Before you brought the entirety of your belongings inside, you went through your backpack for a small pistol and quickly loaded it before shoving it in your pocket. A knife was snug in your sock for easy access as well. Your wagon was left just outside the door for a moment as you went up to the glass and scanned the interior of the gas station. Nothing looked suspicious so you grabbed your wagon and made your way inside. It was difficult to maneuver the metal cart through the door but once it passed through, you hurried over to the closest aisle and started examining its contents. 

You were thrilled to find pads that hadn’t been entirely burned up, stuffing a good amount of those into your backpack. There was a good amount of medicine and health supplies still intact but you didn’t entirely trust the expired medication. The wall was lined with shelves of unrefrigerated drinks which you were about to stand up and look through when you heard something. It almost sounded like a shoe squeaking against the smooth floor. 

You froze. You mustn’t have heard that correctly. 

There were often times where you hallucinated people. Just simple people, families living their normal lives in a normal world like it hadn’t burned to the ground. Noises that you knew weren’t real played in your head. But this made every alarm ring in your brain 

Survival kicked in as you remained low, your shoes were scuffed up and you were careful and light on your feet. It couldn’t have been you that made that sound. 

You slowly crawled to the edge of the aisle, lifting each foot as quietly as possible until you made it to the corner. 

Instead of sticking your head out of the aisle to look, in fear of a headshot, you looked for a reflection that could tell you if anything or anyone else was in the store. 

In the corner above your head, there was a circle reflective mirror that allowed you to see the entire store, but as you noticed it, you weren’t fast enough to dodge the figure around the corner that lunged at you as soon as your eyes saw its reflection. 

The figure covered most of their face with a cloth mask and a hat with goggles that covered their eyes. They pinned you down onto the hard floor by your shoulders and it knocked the breath out of you initially but you quickly stabilized and kicked your knees up into them to shove them off. Neither of you had gotten up onto your feet yet, both brawling, almost forgetting how to fight after only imagining it for so long. The two of you quickly stood up to continue the fight and before they could lunge at you once again, you drew the pistol from your pocket and aimed it straight for their head. You didn’t want to shoot the only other living person in the world, yet you would if you had to. 

You couldn’t make out their eyes through the goggles but you could see them freeze at the sight of the barrel pointing at them. 

The gun was as steady as your stance. They slowly raised their hands as they reached for the hat. You cocked the gun, warning them not to dare to reach for anything. They raised one hand in reassurance as they pulled off the hat, the goggles coming off with it. 

A boy. 

His hair was shaggy, dark brown and awkwardly grown out. His eyes were a piercing green, brightly contrasting from the dust and dirt on his forehead. 

As he pulled his bandana from the bridge of his nose, he revealed the rest of his face to you. 

Damn. 

You cursed your initial thoughts, yet they only made sense.

Stuck in the end of the world with a boy your age, what was the universe trying to insinuate? 

He could tell you were caught off guard as your eyes were caught on his face. Noticing your faltering hands, he quickly twisted the pistol out of your hands, kicking it away as it fell to your feet, and twisted you around until your back was firmly pressed against his chest. He had your arms pressed down to your side as his wrapped around you and held you down. You tried to shake him off but his voice in your ear made you freeze. The warm breath on your cheek soothed you, even with his threatening demeanor. 

“How are you alive?” 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to stabilize your breathing in his hold. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

How was it possible that there was another survivor, coincidently your age, who you just happened to avoid for the past five years? It made you question how many others were out there, or if it was only the two of you left on the planet.

He squeezed you harder in his hold, an uncomfortable tightness in your sides, as he demanded into your ear, “Answer the question.”

There was no point in struggling further, “I don’t know, okay? I woke up one day and the world was destroyed,” you gasped. 

He loosed his hold and turned you around, eyes frantically searching over you, searching for a sign you might continue to fight him. 

You stood still, staring at him in return, not sure what to do. He seemed deep in contemplation, but that’s what happens when you’ve spent years living in your own head. 

“I don’t remember anything from before,” you elaborated, “I just remember waking up in a pile of rubble, surrounded by fire and bodies.” 

You analyzed his face as he took in your story, imaging if the same thing happened to him. Does he remember anything from before? Could he tell you what happened? 

When he made no move to verbalize his thoughts, you said one last thing on your mind. 

“I didn’t think anyone else survived.” 

With this, he looked up at you with a furrow in his brow. 

“Well great, as if there weren't enough resources to begin with.”

He bumped your shoulder as he made his way back to the aisle he was originally in, kneeling next to a backpack as he resumed filling it with whatever he found necessary. 

You were shocked to say the least. How could he be so indifferent to find out someone else survived? Did he want the whole fucking world to himself? 

As he paid no further attention to you, you decided to grab your own bag and continue filling it with as much goods as possible, concerned he would selfishly take everything good. 

You hopped over the counter to grab the entire supply of lighters, lighter fluid, and batteries. When you looked up, the boy was standing in front of the counter with a pissed off look on his face. 

“Did you take everything?” 

You shrugged, “Maybe.” 

This time, you actually walked around the counter instead of hopping over, and as you were doing so, you noticed a case of water bottles. Clean drinking water was unfortunately hard to come by, so this was a good score. You picked up the case with a smug grin and walked by him out the door. 

He followed right behind you, “Oh come on, you have to share that,” he pleaded. 

“Oh I have to? I don’t think so, I don’t owe you anything,” you said as you plopped the case onto your wagon. 

As you walked off, you could tell he was in a bit of a mental dilemma, yet you were also in the same boat. 

Should you turn around and work together with him? Combine resources and stop the other from going mad in isolation? Or should you go your separate ways? Stay on your own, only focusing on keeping one person alive. 

You came to a stop, deciding it might be better to stick with him. If he threatened you or if he was too much of an asshole, you could just kill him. 

When you turned around you jumped, not realizing he had walked up to you. 

“I have a base, not too far down the road,” he said to you, “We could work together.” 

You signed, contemplating one last time. You only made a base once, but it didn’t hold up well and you ran out of supplies quickly. It was easier to be on the road and travel for food and make temporary stops. However, something told you to go with him. Call it instinct if you will, but you stuck your hand out. He immediately took your palm in his and gave it a firm shake. 

If only you knew what you were getting into.

~~~

[aristocratic-otter]

Hi all! It's so lovely to see so many people motivated by the fresh feeling of a new year. Thank you for sharing your work with me, @artsyunderstudy, @nausikaaa, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire,

@whatevertheweather, @bookish-bogwitch, @martsonmars, @bookishbroadwayandblind, and @prettygoododds.

One thing I learned from reading everyone's year-end retrospectives: if I want to be more involved, I need to stop being such a perfectionist! I could have been posting every week, but I'd be kicking myself over not having finished a piece of every single WIP...and so I wouldn't post. I'm gonna challenge myself to just post, even if I only wrote one thing the previous week. So that said, it was a vacation week for me, so along with posting my gift fic for @facewithoutheart, A Very Zombie Christmas, I did actually do work on a lot of my WIPs, and you can expect updates on at least two of them this week.

So, here we go. As always, I absolutely did not bother to count six sentences:

From my 2023 COTTA, Snow Fox:

It took some convincing to get Penny and Mitali out the window and up onto the roof. Well, more Mitali than Penny. Neither woman much liked the fact that their petticoats and whatever other underthings women wear would be clearly visible from underneath the whole time they were climbing. 

Penny accepted it as a necessity with a grumble and an embarrassed flush, but Mitali truly balked at the idea. Finally, Pen suggested that I lower a loop of rope rather than an end of rope, and the women could sit in the loop and be hauled up. That resolved the whole ridiculous issue, and we had both women out of the house and onto the roof in short order. 

From my COBB with @cutestkilla: The Rat and the River

I’ve always wanted to be part of one of Snow’s famous ‘lunch meetings’.  Penelope’s told me about them. Simon thinks better with food, so all  information is shared and ideas are circulated over meals in Simon’s team. I used to wish to be British myself so I could join his team and take part in these comfortable meetings of minds. I love food and I love talk, especially talk about disease. What could be more enticing than spending time over sandwiches with the famous Snow’s angels? 

Especially one particular angel. 

From Tiktok Dancer:

Penny, Shep, Agatha and I are all staring at him, jaws hanging loose in our surprise at his unexpected eloquence and passion. Baz just sips on his fruity cocktail and smiles back at us demurely.

I suddenly realize how little I know about this man I’ve fallen head over heels for. And not knowing makes me itch—I can’t stand it.

“What dream are you pursuing?”  I blurt. 

Baz looks at me steadily, and I can almost see him revising his first answer in his head.

From my Visitor Baz AU: 

Baz is dead.

Baz is dead. 

I can’t understand it. The idea that Baz, my terrible roommate, will never snark at me from his desk across the room from mine again…that he’ll never use up all the hot water with his endless showers or wear his uniform in such a way that makes it look designer while all the rest of us look boring. He’ll never suck down a rat in the catacombs or earn the highest score on a Magic Words exam. 

Baz is dead. 

From Saving Simon Snow (I’ve got to reread this one to get my mojo back on it, I think. But here’s six new shortish sentences):

In all our years of cohabitation, I’ve never seen Simon truly lose his temper with Bunce. With me, certainly. Hundreds of times. In the Catacombs, he was irritable and defiant. But now? The moment Bunce grabs hold of his arm, Simon goes off. 

 From CORB #1, Baby Mine with @argumentativeantitheticalg

His voice takes on that haughty, lecturing tone I used to hate so much. Or at least that I used to think that I hated. It made me want to slam him against the wall and get in his face. 

I think I maybe just wanted to get my face on his face. Why was I so fucking stupid?

I’m lost in rumination on my own failings when the rise in volume from the crib and the pointed clearing of Baz’s throat both bring me back.

From CORB #2: The Stoves Come On At Night, with @ebbpettier

I wake up.

For several seconds, I blink groggily into the early morning light. I try to catch at the wisps of the dream I was having, but they’re fading. 

I can’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Like I’d planned, I’d slept a few hours last night and then got up at three a.m. Three hours later, after I’d finished a sketchy patrol, I headed back to bed as the first rays of the sun were just breaking over the horizon. 

It can’t be more than 8 am now. What on earth woke me up? Even if I can’t really remember it, I’d been having such a pleasant dream…

Suddenly, I realize that the annoying buzzing sound I hear is an alarm–the fire alarm!

Tags and howdies to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @fatalfangirl,

@melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist,  @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean,

@raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz,

@krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost, @mooncello,

@shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,  @theearlgreymage, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife,

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @skeedelvee, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

@messofthejess, @best--dress, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii,  @hushed-chorus, 

@rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla, @letraspal, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @emeryhall, @larkral, @youarenevertooold,

@j-nipper-95, @ebbpettier, and @argumentativeantitheticalg

[paniniani]

teasing bakugo drabble

"you really hate celery that fuckin much??" bakugo yelled, a look of horror on his face as he stomped into the kitchen. he just wanted to make a cup of tea in peace, but when he saw you mutilating these poor vegetables, he had to step in.

rolling your eyes, you spit out a response: "can you be a little more annoying? since everyone's been getting sick, i'm making soup. i'm doing a nice thing. do you know what a nice thing is? it's when people-"

"SHUT UP." he interrupted, scowling at you as he braced his elbows on the kitchen counter, leaning over to inspect your poor cutting job. you certainly didn't mind the view as you continued chopping, eyes raking over his muscular forear-

"SHIT" you cried, as the knife nicked your pointer finger, leaving a tiny yet slightly painful scratch. great. first you're terrible at cooking, then you cut your finger because you're thirsting over the class' biggest asshole. for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crossed his face, quickly replaced by his trademark smug smirk.

"need a bandaid or somethin? didn't take you as someone to be so.. easily distracted.." turning your attention away from your finger, you raised your chin to meet his gaze, sparking with pride and... something you couldn't quite pin down.

"what's your problem anyway? can't you just leave me alone?" you replied, trying not to flush at the eye contact.

"i'll leave you alone when you stop fucking butchering these vegetables!" as his eyebrows drew together, you saw the same unfamiliar expression flash across his face before he closed his eyes and sighed with annoyance. picking up the knife again, you began chopping. you were focusing so hard on the celery that you didn't notice his strangely quiet steps, moving closer and closer until his large hand settled over yours on the knife, standing behind you to watch your movements.

your breath hitched at the uncharacteristically gentle contact, causing your mind to race as you suddenly felt hot, burning hot, all over your body.

"somethin the matter? what happened to all that shit you were talkin? soup's not gonna make itself.." you could practically hear the smirk in his face as you stood stone-still, his thumb having the nerve to draw tiny, delicate circles over your own. reaching his other arm around you, he grabbed a new piece of celery and began to chop, still keeping your hand underneath his.

his skilled hands made quick work of the vegetables, finishing the task in just a few seconds. you would never forgive your brain for the nasty thoughts you were having of what else he could do with those han-

"aw come on, don't go all shy on me now..." he quietly spoke into your ear, flustering you further if it were possible. this wasn't fair. you didn't know what the fuck had come over him, but two could play at this game, no matter how incredibly turned on you were.

"you gonna help me with some more or just stand there? still gotta chop up these carrots.." you looked back at him with heavy lids, letting your head tilt to the side, almost grazing his shoulder. internally, you giggled as it was his turn to flush deep red. his face was painted with that same odd expression, finally realizing that it was-

"don't give a fuck about these damn carrots" he murmured, staring down at you. he was whipped, and he knew it. grabbing the knife and your hand again, he grabbed a few carrots, leaning his strong chest against your back. "gotta see better" he spat out, but you knew he was about to give in. in a moment of desperation, you arched your back, pressing your ass against him. looking up at him again through lust-covered eyes, you choked out a few words:

"need.. your help.. bakugo.."

screwing his eyes shut, he knew he was done for- shit. he was hard as a fucking rock. you could definitely tell too. grinding against you, he bit back a groan. you felt so fucking good.. fuck, he needed you so bad. suddenly, you felt strong hands grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face him.

shit. this was much easier when you weren't having to look at him. crimson eyes staring at your lips, you gulped and looked up at him with wide pleading eyes. knowing this would push him over the edge, you leaned in, your lips magnetic towards his own. at the last instant, you moved, pressing gentle kisses across his jawline, watching his throat struggle to keep his pretty sounds in. kissing and gently sucking down his neck, he finally gave in. opening his mouth, he managed a few mumbled words between quiet groans.

"itskatsuki..please."

his voice cracked with desire, begging, pleading you to continue. kneeling down, you trailed kisses across his rapidly rising and falling chest, watching his abs twitch as you continued downward to his v-line. slipping a finger in his waistband, causing a whine, you knew you had him. why not make this a little more fun? you looked up at him with a sweet smile, speaking in a low, sultry tone.

"okay..katsuki..." you drew his name out with a long groan, watching him look at you pleadingly. "we still gotta chop the carrots"..

[tarareindeer]

"Til Death Do Us Part"

{Rich Claggor x Snarky reader}

{enemies to lovers??}

Growing up on the grimiest street this side of nowhere, you and Claggor had beef so thick, it could’ve been grilled and served at a BBQ. Claggor, the chubby loudmouth with more attitude than sense, had a knack for pushing all your buttons. You weren’t a pushover, but you weren’t exactly Hulk material either. Every fight between you two ended in mutual destruction—scraped knees, bloody noses, and a guarantee that someone’s mom was gonna yell about laundry later.

Claggor would say something stupid like, “Move it, twig legs,” and next thing you knew, you’d be throwing hands. Or at least trying to. He was strong enough to crush a can with one hand (which he did to flex), but his coordination? Zero stars. Your wild swings weren’t much better, though, so it was less of a fight and more of a sloppy slap-fest. By the end, both of you looked like you’d survived a minor tornado.

Things changed when Claggor’s dad hit the money jackpot. His family packed up their busted little house and traded it for a McMansion across town. Meanwhile, you stayed behind, dealing with the same old neighborhood drama. No more Claggor. No more insults. No more wrestling matches that left you limping for days.

Fast forward a decade, and life had been... well, life. You weren’t doing terrible, but the grind was real. You’d grown into your looks—rugged but pretty, with curves that turned heads. Sure, you were a little rough around the edges, but it suited you. People knew better than to mess with you, even if you weren’t the scrappiest fighter on the block anymore.

Then came the bombshell: your parents sat you down and hit you with the most absurd news of your life.

“You’re getting married.”

You laughed. Like, full-on cackled. Until you realized they weren’t joking.

“To who?” you asked, already regretting the answer.

“Claggor.”

Cue record scratch.

Apparently, Claggor’s dad’s business had hit a snag, and he needed your family’s connections to smooth things over. Your family wasn’t exactly swimming in cash, so the arrangement made sense... for them. For you? It was like the universe had decided to dunk on you for laughs.

When you saw Claggor again, it was like staring at a glitch in the Matrix. The chubby kid you used to scrap with? Gone. In his place was a gym rat with biceps bigger than your head and a jawline that could cut glass. His smug grin was still intact, though, so at least some things hadn’t changed.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite punching bag,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he was posing for a cologne ad.

You rolled your eyes so hard, you practically saw your brain. “Still can’t believe they’re making me marry you. What’d you do, bribe my parents?”

“Please,” he said, smirking. “You think I’m thrilled about this? I remember those punches. You hit like a toddler.”

“At least I landed some,” you shot back.

Despite the mutual roasting, the Claggor standing in front of you wasn’t the same kid who used to piss you off for fun. He’d grown up—sort of. He still had that cocky attitude, but now there was something... different. He wasn’t just annoying anymore. He was annoying and ridiculously attractive, which was honestly offensive.

The first few days of this forced engagement were a nightmare. Every conversation turned into a verbal sparring match. He’d poke fun at you, you’d throw it right back, and somehow, it always ended with both of you glaring at each other while trying not to laugh.

But then, something weird started happening. Somewhere between the snarky comments and awkward moments, you caught glimpses of the Claggor he’d become. He wasn’t just the arrogant kid you remembered. He was thoughtful in ways that threw you off—like making sure you ate when you were too busy to cook or helping your little brother with his homework.

One night, after another round of bickering, he looked at you and said, “You know, you’re not as terrible as I remember.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, a compliment? Should I frame that?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just saying... you’ve got guts. Always have. I kinda respect that.”

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. So, naturally, you deflected. “Don’t get soft on me, Claggor. I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He smirked. “And what if I do?”

That shut you up real quick.

You weren’t sure what the future held for you and Claggor, but one thing was certain: this was going to be anything but boring. For now, though, you were focused on surviving the insanity of being engaged to your childhood rival.

And if he thought he was gonna get the last word in this relationship? He had another thing coming.

Title: "Til Death (or Mutual Sabotage) Do Us Part - The Sequel"

The day of the marriage ceremony was... something. The tension in the air was so thick, you could slice it with a butter knife. You and Claggor were standing at the altar, and let’s just say, none of this felt romantic. It felt more like a hostage situation—but with fancier clothes and a suspiciously nice buffet.

Claggor, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that showed off his ridiculous muscles (seriously, what kind of sick joke was this?), stood beside you, looking like a walking “before” and “after” transformation ad. The audacity of it all.

He flashed a smirk in your direction, the same one he’d been giving you since childhood. The one that made your blood boil, but also... damn—he was hot. You couldn’t even be mad about it. You just rolled your eyes and crossed your arms like you weren’t one bad comment away from smacking him upside the head.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice a little too smooth for your liking.

“Wow, thanks,” you shot back sarcastically. “I did try to look like I wasn’t being forced into this.”

"Well, you’re pulling it off." His eyes lingered just a little too long on you, and you had to fight the urge to flick him in the ear.

The officiant went on about love, commitment, and all that bullshit, and you and Claggor exchanged the most awkward vows ever.

“I vow to not punch you in the face every time you annoy me,” you said, deadpan.

“I vow to make your life interesting—whether you like it or not,” Claggor replied with that same devil-may-care grin.

Somewhere in between your chaotic vows, the crowd seemed a little too eager for you two to seal the deal. Like they were betting on how long this would last. But when the officiant finally announced, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” you both exchanged a look that said everything: This is a joke, and we’re both trapped in it.

The Honeymoon

You weren’t even sure how the honeymoon became a thing, but here you were, stuck in a fancy resort in some tropical place. You had zero intention of acting like a newlywed. You barely wanted to look at Claggor in his ridiculous sunglasses, sipping his cocktail like he was an Instagram influencer.

“So,” Claggor said, lounging on a beach chair like he owned the place, “you planning on actually talking to me, or are we just doing this whole ‘strangers’ thing for the week?”

You side-eyed him. “I think the ‘stranger’ thing works. Less chance of me kicking you into the pool.”

“Try it,” he teased, his smirk still perfectly in place. “I think I could take you now.”

“Please. You’re lucky I don’t just push you in and let the ocean deal with you.”

He chuckled, but you both knew deep down: this was probably going to end in some kind of ridiculous competition where you’d both end up drenched, covered in sand, and arguing over whose fault it was.

The New House

The house you’d inherited as part of this absurd marriage arrangement was fancy. Too fancy for your liking. The marble floors practically shined with privilege, and the walls looked like they belonged in a museum, not someone’s home. You had a whole wing to yourself (because who doesn’t get a wing in these things, right?) and it was like living in a Pinterest board gone wrong.

Claggor, meanwhile, was already unpacking his gym gear, turning the master bedroom into a personal fitness center. Of course he was. Because there was no way he’d let the mansion feel like a home; it was all about the aesthetic.

“So, what, this is your side of the house now?” you called out from the other room, rolling your eyes as you unpacked your much smaller suitcase.

“Pretty much,” he said, flexing as he put a set of weights on the floor. “What, you didn’t think I’d be using the gym for its intended purpose?”

You peeked in, leaning against the doorframe. “Did I get married to a bodybuilder or a walking testosterone ad?”

He shot you a grin, picking up a dumbbell. “Well, you did sign up for this.”

You smirked. “You’ve got the body of a Greek god and the personality of a soggy towel. What a combo.”

“Careful, love,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You keep throwing shade like that, and I might just have to show you how I handle ‘soggy towels.’”

You froze. He couldn’t be serious. “If you so much as touch me—”

“Relax,” he cut in, his grin widening. “I know how to be gentle. I’ve been trained.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a wink. “But don’t worry, I’m taking it slow. I’m just letting you adjust to being married to the hottest guy on the block.”

You couldn’t even argue with that logic. Damn it.

Family Drama

Just when you thought things couldn’t get more ridiculous, Claggor’s parents decided to show up unannounced at your new mansion. They barged in with that condescending “we’re rich, so deal with it” attitude, making themselves at home faster than you could say “awkward.”

“So, how’s the happy couple?” Claggor’s dad asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Living the dream,” you said, sipping your drink. “We’ve already started the bickering, so, progress, right?”

Claggor’s mom gave you a tight smile. “I’m sure you’ll both settle in. You have to, after all.” She looked at you like she was trying to figure out if you were an upgrade or downgrade from Claggor’s usual type. Spoiler: you were neither.

Claggor, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the whole interaction, shot you a look. “I’ll make sure to call you both when we get bored.”

His parents didn’t like that very much. But you didn’t care. You’d be damned if you let them walk all over you, especially now that you were married to their son.

The rest of the visit was a mix of awkward silences, passive-aggressive comments, and Claggor being shockingly sweet to you in front of his parents. You had to admit, there was something about his “I’ll protect you from the real-world, babe” vibe that was oddly charming.

But mostly, you just sat there, thinking, If this is what married life is like, we’re definitely going to need therapy—or at least more drinks.

And They Lived (And Fought) Happily Ever After... Maybe?

The honeymoon was over, the house was still a weird mix of posh and terrible, and your in-laws were already scheming something behind your back. But through it all, one thing remained crystal clear: your relationship with Claggor was a battle, but it was yours. Whether it was arguing over who gets control of the TV remote or throwing snarky comments at each other, you were in it together... for better or for worse.

And you had no idea where this rollercoaster of a marriage would take you, but at least you knew one thing: It was going to be a hell of a ride.

[nerd-space]

imagine seeing chris with bloody knuckles, maybe a busted lip after a little fight..

i don't think he's the type to get into fights normally, but after a few drinks.. that mf is throwing hands ESPECIALLY if he overhears people talking abt you

kissing at his red knuckles while he drunkenly babbles away and doesn't understand why you're so worried so he decides to fuck the worry outta you 🤗

Bloodied men.

"He called you a slut! for wearing a perfectly fine fitted shirt! so what if you can one-hundred percent see your very-might i add- nice tits in it!? it's a plus!"

"Chris- you're so drunk oh my god"

laughing as you clean up his knuckles... noticing how big and strong they look in your significantly smaller hands

"Just 'cus im a bit tipsy doesnt mean i cant recognize an absolute babe."

"Good lord- if you keep talking like that i might just have to shut you up, Doofus."

"Oh yeah? Shut me up how hmmm?"

"Uh!- Gross! you freak!"

"I can show you how much of a freak i can be."

His tone gets dangerously serious as he leans his head up, standing between his spread legs as he sits on the toilet lid. i roll my eyes and humor him- knowing he's never gonna actually make a move...

"Mm? Really now...if only you weren't completely bluffing maybe i'd take you up on the offer.."

Chris's bandaged hand sliding up your thigh and stopping before he reached your ass- gripping and rubbing the back of your thigh.

"Say the word. I'll prove i'm not all talk anymore."

"i-i think.. you're.. ti-tipsy and won't remember this.. that makes me feel.. weird.."

"I can stop. i can. i don't want you to feel pressured just because a bit of alcohol finally gave me the courage to not be a total dimwit.."

"I mean- that response in general makes me think you're more sobered up than i thought-"

"I am, rocking that guy's shit sobered me up real fast"

you two laugh for a minute- his hand not moving from your thigh- now an almost soft and intimate gesture.

"You said you could show me how freaky you can get?"

you say with a soft laugh- your faces and bodies much closer now, staring at his blue eyes under the soft lit bathroom.

"Mhm.. give you anything you want.."

"Show me..."

"L-last chance to back out.. seriously.."

"C'mon mister confident-"

And that's how you end up bent over the bathroom sink while Chris has your jaw locked in his hand- making you look at him through the mirror- one hand over your mouth with a hot grip and his other hand holding himself up against the sink edge.

"M-mm!-fuck..ohhmygod..you feel so good sweetness.."

He watches as your eyes practically roll back and your body goes a little limp- buckling under his weight at the soft name

"Mm? Yeah? Sweetness? y'like that, baby?"

And when you nod he's fucks you harder than he's ever imagined fucking you.

Lets just say Sweetness was a title that stuck from then on out.

[iamnmbr3]

why do you think harry got obsessed of draco so much and so fast in the sixth book?

until now it's always been up to draco to start the interaction, and the rare times harry acted first was to protect against/stop malfoy (es. third book, malfoy and co wanted to beat up ron at hogsmade, when he was "alone") so always as an answer to something draco did first.

the only exception i can think of is when the golden trio thought he was the slytherin's heir, but even then he stopped being suspicious after he was told by draco that he wasn't responsable of the attacks to the muggleborns (and he belived immediatley).

but in the HbP harry stalks draco without ANY reason, and ok- he just exchanged insults with him and narcissa, but they were just buying robes, they weren't that shady;

so what does it matter he slipped away from his mom? and looked behind is shoulders once or twice?

every other time draco was plotting something harry just got a bad feeling and waited to see how it played out.

and i don't buy the "he was still grieving for sirius and threw himself into a new project", because there are all the signs that he grew up a bit since the first murder he witnessed aka cedric;

like he doesn't want to talk about it still, but at least he doesn't want to forget it, and he recived emotional support of the weasleys and ron and hermione much sooner, and without the anxiety of being expelled and being cut out from the magical world.

like canonically draco was shitty to him (like always), was being a bit shady (like always), and harry really said "ah yes, i'm finally gonna lose my shit to follow that guy i hate day and night" like what

Puberty happened.

I think a couple of things were going on.

First of all, Harry has always paid extremely close attention to Draco. I mean, he literally dreams about him his first night in Hogwarts. This isn't new. Draco has lived rent free in Harry's head from day 1. That's why we, the readers, know so much about him despite almost the entire story being told from Harry's limited 3rd-person pov.

Harry and Draco know and understand each other extremely well. It's why Harry is able to immediately notice very subtle changes in Draco's behavior and affect and intuit what's going on with him. He doesn't just think Draco is a Death Eater. He KNOWS. Just like Draco knows that Harry is watching him from under the cloak just because he heard him take a loud breath and saw a flash of his shoe and also knows that if he turns his back on Harry while they're alone, Harry won't attack. Or just like later Harry can tell just with a quick glance that Draco's mission from Voldemort isn't going well.

Thus, we can see that 1) Harry's fascination with Draco isn't new and 2) because he knows Draco so well he almost immediately figures out Draco is up to something dangerous and therefore wants to stop him.

Also, suddenly for the first time Harry is not Draco's priority. Draco's not trying to get his attention or interact with him anymore. And perhaps on some deep, unacknowledged level that doesn't feel right to Harry.

Then on top of that we've got the effects of Sirius's death to factor in. And the fact that as they get older, Harry's fascination with Draco is only going to get stronger and we've got a perfect storm of unacknowledged drarry feels mixing with a long standing rivalry that has now become higher stakes than ever as they both take up their roles on opposite sides of the war mixing with a need to cope with Sirius's death and prevent any more people he cares about from dying plus a good dose of stubborness because no one will listen and presto Draco obcession.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Anon Ask: Wait wait so we have Bella’s mini me, the yan!romantic!Lestrange!OC x Twin!Weasley or criminal!Weasley

But

What about Yan!Malfoy!OC that’s Narcissa’s mini me just without the intense blood supremacy shit

Definitely magic supremacy, she’d wholeheartedly believe wizards and witches are better then muggles but having nothing against muggleborns/half bloods unless it’s personal beef

———

Pt.2 Draco makes a comment to Twin!Reader about never being able to “afford” a girl like Malfoy!OC when they’re on the Hogwarts Express for the first time and he catches them sharing a smile

He doesn’t understand what Draco means until Fred pats his shoulder and tells him that “girls like expect to be showered in champagne and diamonds and pretty flowers” and advises him to steer clear of her and Draco going forward

His inferiority complex thank you, Molly spirals to the point where Twin!Reader is doing dangerous and most likely illegal shit the more and more he develops feelings because maybe it’ll make Malfoy!OC and his mother really love him

If you wanna make it dramatic then Lestrange!OC is standing beside him almost every day wanting to pull out her hair because she’s right there and her cousin is just toying with his feelings knowing that she’ll never really sacrifice the Malfoy Fortune unless Twin!Reader proves he can provide

He does increasingly stupid shit as the years pass on like pursuing bounties the MoM put on dark wizards while holding a part time job during the summer months and finding a work around to participate in the Triwizard Tournament while selling/trading illegal materials at school

He knows that whatever chances existed are gone the moment Lucius Malfoy sits across from him at a poker table in some back room at a sketchy goblin run establishment and he smokes the table

————

I like to think that Yan!Malfoy!OC and Yan!Lestrange!OC are the same age and with that these two just have this deep seeded rivalry. They just always have. So when Lestrange!OC becomes obsessed with Weasley!Reader, Malfoy!OC sees this as another way to get at her cousin. I can imagine Malfoy!OC being someone who really craves and thrives off attention, just someone who prefers all eyes on her and when Weasley!Reader is doing the most to try and prove himself worthy of her (at least that’s what it looks like) she basks in it, wanting for even more constant attention. But she would never say that she liked Weasley!Reader or anything like that, this is strictly an ego boost for her and a way to get under her cousin’s skin.

I would really like to believe that Weasley!Reader isn’t going out of his way so much as to prove himself to the Malfoy’s or Malfoy!OC but instead he’s doing so to prove to himself that he is capable of so much more than what people think of him. Especially his mother and now the Malfoy’s. He’s not trying to earn Malfoy!OC’s affections like she and everyone else is under the impression of, no what he’s actually doing is finally putting his foot down. Weasley!Reader has put up with a lot, he’s already treated like shit at home by his own mother, he’s not just gonna let someone else treat him the same all over again in the only place he feels even remotely safe and comfortable. And I like to think that this only lasts for a bit, not too long, until Weasley!Reader just has enough of feeling like he needs to do anything to prove himself at all anymore and he just stops completely. Stops giving anything of himself to Malfoy!OC especially cause it’s one thing to have to deal with his mother but he can just walk away from Malfoy!OC and ignore her. The poor boy is just tired. So tired.

But in being ignored, Malfoy!OC instead finds herself at a loss. No one has just up and ignored her before, save for Lestrange!OC, so this is a completely foreign concept to her. At first, she tries to brush it off and act like it’s whatever, if anything this is better cause then she won’t be having to waste her own time on measly Weasley!Reader and his shenanigans. But the longer Weasley!Reader doesn’t even so much as spare her a glance, Malfoy!OC is left feeling empty. She doesn’t want to admit how much she actually looked forward to Weasley!Reader’s attention, how warm she felt inside whenever he came back proud of himself after accomplishing some new endeavor or when he ended up bringing something new from one of his many ventures to prove himself capable. Like, the time he gifted her a Basilisk fang after killing the one in the Chamber of Secrets. (He didn’t gift her shit, he tossed it on the table in the Slytherin common room after coming back from saving Ginny and fighting for their lives. Malfoy!OC just took it as a gift meant for her.) I guess you could say Malfoy!OC is experiencing withdrawals. She’s so out of sorts not having Weasley!Reader seeking her out anymore that she almost doesn’t know what to do with herself. More often than not she’s left just to watch as Weasley!Reader gives the attention he use to put towards her towards Lestrange!OC now. Not like he wasn’t giving her cousin attention before but now that’s all Malfoy!OC sees. And she hates it. She wants his eyes back on her, she wants to be the only thing he looks at. What started off as Weasley!Reader proving himself ends with Malfoy!OC now trying to prove herself more deserving of his attention than her cousin ever could be.

Malfoy!OC would turn into a complete stalker after being ignored and basically abandoned by Weasley!Reader. She is everywhere he goes, she sees and hears everything that goes on with and around him. When the Zabini’s take Weasley!Reader in and under their wings, Malfoy!OC is now making more appearances at the Zabini home when he’s over. And whenever the chance, she’s interrogating Blaise for as much more information as she can get her hands on. Like, Malfoy!OC gets so bad to the point where even Dobby is warning Weasley!Reader, and that’s before he ever started working for him. Or Dobby is reaching out to Lestrange!OC in hopes of her being able to do something, whether it’s to get Malfoy!OC to back off altogether or to just be there for Weasley!Reader. Either way, Malfoy!OC just does a whole downward spiral into obsession. Don’t even get me started on when she demands her parents arrange a marriage between her and Weasley!Reader. After all he’s pureblood so it’s fine and he’s obviously nothing like the rest of his family, so why can’t she have him at the end of the day? All just cause Daddy Lucius is a sore loser? Whatever, he can get over it. Otherwise, Malfoy!OC is going to throw the biggest bitch fit ever seen in Malfoy history.

The rivalry between Lestrange!OC and Malfoy!OC will only become all the more intense after Malfoy!OC’s own obsession kick starts. These two will be at each other’s throats even more than they already were. The only time they can even be considered as remotely ‘working’ together is when it comes to someone else trying to swoop in on Weasley!Reader. Only then is it not “my darling”, but rather “our darling”. Could the two possibly ever come to the capability of sharing, maybe but it’ll never truly be peaceful. There will always be competition but hey at least they both get the same thing at the end of the day, right?

[deathbirby]

Raxy is slowly turning himself into the MsScribe of the Fire Emblem fandom.

Does that mean he's gonna get exposed and called out by the entire fandom? Fuck yeah I'm all for that!

[bitchy-peachy]

I really wish that antis stopped using real life sa victims in their shit especially since they tell real life sa victims that we deserved our assaults cos we all handle our trauma differently.

[raine-world]

Autocorrect stop changing "Quirrel" to "Squirrel" challenge: Impossible.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.