#and I’m like I’m kind of busy holding his leash my dude

[coroarchenland]

The number of strangers who give unsolicited advice about how to train my dog…

[thunder-jolt]

Every Incorrect Quote/”Based on Vine” with my Go Nagai Linkers; Sayaka, Mirai, Qiao, Rosita, and Hyeong...

Qiao: WHAT THE HELL KIND OF BULLSHIT?! EXCITEMINT MY ASS!

-------

Sayaka: Are you hungry right now?

Rosita: Not at all.

Sayaka: REALLY?! I’m SO hungry!

Rosita: Then you should probably eat. (I’m sure there’s a restaurant nearby...)

-------

*Just Dance by Lady Gaga plays, Mirai Asuka drives in, and lowers the music’s volume*

Mirai: It’s Britney, bitch.

-------

Qiao: WHAT DID YOU DO?!

Hyeong: I, shaved my eyebrows.

Qiao: WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!

Hyeong: I don’t know.

-------

Sayaka: Violets are blue, Roses are red-

Hyeong: *sees Enma-Kun’s death* YO, HOLY SHIT HE DEAD!

-------

Mirai: Photobombing is so 2014, stop it YA STUPID, FUCKING DINOSAUR!

-------

Sayaka: Story time! *introduces the Go Nagai Linkers* Only one of them can strike the mightiest of poses.

Mirai: *tries her best to pose*

Rosita: *poses like a female sports star*

Hyeong: *does a split*

Sayaka: Oh shi-

-------

Rosita: I DON’T WHAT YOU’RE ON- *Hyeong burns an evil corporation’s building, full of people inside* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! YOU BETTER STOP! STOP!

Hyeong: Woah!

Rosita: BITCH STOP! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!

-------

Sayaka: I love you!

80s Devilman chibi: I rove rou!

Sayaka: I love you!

80s Devilman chibi: I ROVE ROU!

Sayaka: I love you!

80s Devilman chibi: I ROVE ROOUUU!

-------

Hyeong: Hey, you sell crack here?

Mirai: Hm. I wish, but no.

Hyeong: Oh.

-------

Some girl: So is this gonna be a thing? Me and you?

Hyeong: Uhhhh...

Some girl:

Hyeong: Uhhhh...

Some girl:

Hyeong: MY DICK FELL OFF!

-------

Mirai: You wanna make out?

Sayaka: No. (Not right now...)

Mirai: *internally crying* Me neither, I wanna go to sleep. *snores*

-------

Rosita: Hi, welcome to Chili’s.

-------

Devilman, roasting Shadius: His hair? WACK! His jewelry? WACK! His foot stance? WACK! The way that he talks? WACK! The way that he doesn’t like to smile? WACK! Me? I’M TIGHT AS FU-

--- --- ---

Rosita: Every kiss starts with K!

Ryo Asuka: Actually, every kiss starts with consent.

Rosita: Go back to your linker, Mirai. *sprays water*

Ryo Asuka: God damn it-

--- --- ---

Hyeong: Hey girls, and Qiao! I’M HOME!

Rosita: Oh how ni- OH GOD!

Qiao: What in?

Mirai: Oh fu-

Sayaka: Eheheh... Uh, Hyeong? Who or what’s that you got there?

Hyeong: *sipping a boba while holding a leash that holds a giant-ass centipede* A boba! And I got Jo-Jo-Joey!

Rosita, Sayaka, Mirai, and Qiao: *unsure* Uh-huh...

---------

Ryo Asuka, seeing it all go down in Singapore and seeing Shadius: I’m disgusted. I revolted. I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior: Go Nagai, AND THIS IS THE STUFF WE GET?!

Qiao: I just had a burst of energy and I think it's my body's last "hooray" before it completely shuts down...

====

Rosita: They're right there.

Mirai: What the fuck is this?

Rosita: Watch your profanity...

Mirai: (replaces Mirai's voice for Ryo's dub voice from the 80s Devilman dub) I don't give a shit.

====

Rosita: *walking* *turns her head* Hazzzt!

One of Hyeong's Yokai (in this case; a Kappa): *sitting on a stack of boxes*

Qiao: Is- Is it real?

====

Hyeong: *to Mirai, in an argument* WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, MIRAI?! NO, SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE!? STEP THE FUCK UP, MIRAI!

====

Sayaka: How do I start this darned thing?

*Devilman No Uta plays*

Mirai: Man Sayaka, I've been having a bad day- Oh my god, it's our song! IT'S OUR SONG!

Sayaka: *screeches demonically*

====

Rosita: Hyeong, get out of the tank.

Hyeong: You ain't my mummy.

Rosita: Get out of the fricking tank, I am your mum. (Mum-figure I may add.)

Hyeong: You ain't my mum.

Rosita: I'm your mum, get out of the ta-

Hyeong: I'M IN A TANK, AND YOU AIN'T!

(this continues before Mirai decides to take the "ordering people out of things" business)

====

Hyeong: *narrating, as a tanuki walks in* You got this, Tanny, make him wait for it... Boom.

====

Sayaka: Mother-trucker, dude! That hurt like a buttcheek on a stick.

Qiao: Watch your profanity.

====

Qiao: Rose, they following me, Rose! THEY'RE FOLLOWING ME!

Rosita: OH, OH WHO'S FOLLOWING YOU?!

Qiao: *points to Hyeong's moth yokai* The moths!

Rosita: THE MOTHS?!

====

Hyeong: Woah- WOAH! HAHA! HURRICANE KATRINA! More like Hurricane Tortilla~

====

Mirai: *beating up a Despairus (Despairiuses is plural, right?)* HATE THIS THIS DAMN ASS BITCH DESPAIR! FUCK THEM! *continues beating it up*

====

Mirai: *opens up gift, to see it's an empty book* It's an empty book. Thanks...

====

Hyeong: *seeing Sayaka's demon form, amazed* HELL FUCKIN' YEAH!

====

Hyeong: OH MY GAAAAAAAAWD! A TORNADO IS FORMIN'! BYE!

Hyeong's Yokai: *demonic screeching* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Hyeong: But we're going shopping!

Hyeong and her Yokai: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

====

Qiao: When I say "slavery", you all say "sorry", SLAVERY!

His classmates: Sorry.

Qiao: *internally* It's okay.

====

Mirai: *slides across the ice to the reader/self-insert* Good evening.

====

Hyeong: I have an idea, imagine this but-

Rosita: WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCK!

Hyeong: OH MY GAWD! A SNAKE!

The rest of the Go Nagai Linkers: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

====

Hyeong: Back at it again at Krispy Kreme. *does a backflip, breaks sign*

====

Rosita: Who wants to get crazy for NEW YEARS!?

The Linkers: YEEAAAAAAAAAAH!

Sayaka: *breaks glass bowl full of ornaments* YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

====

Rosita: Welcome to my kitchen... We have bananas and avocadoes...

====

Hyeong: The cheese OF TRUTH! *whaps cheese on newspaper* Immigrants cause cancer...

====

Qiao: Toss me my keys.

Sayaka: *throws printer* *printer shatters*

Qiao: I said my keys.

Sayaka: I thought you said printer!

Qiao: Why the fuck would I say printer?

====

Qiao: *narrating about the 80s Devilman chibi* Even the chibis are one of the most dangerous creatures in the world, so I built this cage to keep them secure so there's no possible- *80s Devilman chibi escapes* Oh my god-

====

Mirai: This demon child is definitely on crack right now...

Hyeong: *ball bounces on her head* Yas! *ball bounces on her head again* YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

====

Sayaka: Look it. Look it! It's frickin' bats! I love Halloween.

====

Hyeong: MIRAI!

Mirai: *stares deeply into someone's soul* *dabs*

Hyeong: OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!

====

Sayaka: Wait, oh yeah, wait a minute, Mr. Postman.

Qiao: Yeeeeeee...

====

Hyeong: Heheh, what're you doing?

Sayaka: Dancing.

Hyeong: There's no music playing.

Sayaka:

====

Hyeong: *about to prank the 80s Devilman chibi* Hey, I shoved that ball down my pants.

80s Devilman chibi: *drops ball in fear*

====

Mirai: We all die, either kill yourself or get killed. *dances* Whatchu gonna do? *dances* Whatchu gonna do?

====

Sayaka: *Akira Fudo through Sayaka* Honestly, I don't remember, I was probably fucked up. Yeah, I was crazy back then... Ehehehehh...

====

Hyeong: Get to Del Taco! They got a new thing called "Fre Sha Vacado" FRE SHA VA-!

====

Meanwhile, the links...

Cutie Honey: Enma-Kun, your speech is so good!

Enma-Kun: OHIDIDN'TEVENREALYTRYTHATMUCH,IT'SJUSTALLIMPROVEAND-

Devilman: OH MY GOD, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TAKE THE FRICKING COMPLIMENT, AAAAAAAAA----

====

Kouji Kabuto: Yo, Enma! You want some? *passes an empty can*

Enma-Kun: This bitch empty! YEET! *throws can*

====

Devilman: I wanna see my lil boy!

Sayaka: *holds the 80s Devilman chibi* Here he comes!

Devilman: I wanna see my lil boy!

====

Rosita or Cutie Honey: Let me see what you have!

Hyeong or Enma-Kun: A KNIFE!

Rosita or Cutie Honey: NO!

====

80s Devilman chibi: Who-Ah... Whuah?

Devilman: What does that say, Devi-bi?

80s Devilman chibi: Whuah?

Devilman: NO!

80s Devilman chibi: Whuah?

====

Kouji and Devilman: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Kouji: That’ll be the last time-

Devilman: NO! DON’T LET GO!

Kouji: I’M DYING! I’M DYING-

Kouji and Devilman: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

====

Devilman: So bored...

Enma-Kun: I wish Kouji’s here...

Kouji: HEY GUYS!

Devilman and Enma-Kun: KOUJI!

====

Mirai or Ryo: You’re all going to hell. Good bye~

====

Sayaka: *to Devilman* You are my DAAAD~!

Chorus: You’re my dad! Boogie-woogie!

====

Hyeong: Hey, how much money do you have?

Sayaka: Oh, like 69 cents...

Hyeong: Oh! You know what that means?

Sayaka: *cries* I don’t have enough money for teriyaki chicken...

====

Rosita: Um Hyeong, would you read number 23 for the class?

Hyeong: Nah, I can not.

Hyeong: What up? I’m Hyeong, I’m 16, and I never fucking learned how to read.

====

Mirai: Psycho Jenny, Psycho Jenny... PSYCHO JENNY! Oh my fucking god, she fucking dead...

====

Mirai: *to a Despairus* GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY! *throws Despairus so hard to a wall*

====

Hyeong: All I wanted to tell you all is that school’s not important; be who you wanted to be. If you wanted to be a dog, RUFF! Y’know?

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

May make two more Linkers that aren’t Go Nagai-related, but all and all, here!

@sundove88 and @shonenlinkage

[whatsabriard]

Rewatch time. Now I can take notes.

*what the hell is that wedding cake made of. They’re using an entire sword and two of them can hardly cut it? No wonder mrs p looks so suspicious of the food.

* I’m still p salty that Cora didn’t let her hair down.

* Edith and Mary being all sisterly.

* “I think it’s an awful idea.” No shit brother. “We don’t need to talk about money.” Robert. Jesus.

* so Violet has been moved into the big house for the end, yeah?

(This is where I point out that I saw this at an Alamo drafthouse and had quite a bit of liquid by the time the movie started and I had to pee SO BAD but refused to leave the theater.)

*this silver dress is so stunning. Robert’s ears are extra sticky-outy.

* Cora’s ‘I’d love it’ at Edith wanting to come along hits different now. I’m cry.

*why was robert only worried about edith’s second child.

* MAKE SURE THEY THINK OF YOU AS A DRAGON.

* of all the names, did they have to pick Dagleish? IT TOOK ME HALF THE MOVIE TO GET PAST “dog leash”.

* everything will be odd and foreign for his lordship. There is one person in that house less capable of dealing with foreign soil than Robert and it’s Carson.

* the pacing of this movie is very peppy.

* nearly every woman in the house has a new hairstyle except Cora. Imma guess she didn’t cut her hair to the new style because Robert loves here hair.

* WHAT WERE CORA AND SYBBIE TALKING ABOUT.

* at this point I leaned over to my bestie and said “they’re gonna singing in the rain this bitch, aren’t they?”

*”Why has she asked you?” Lol she don’t want you reading her spicy letters.

*the look on Cora’s face when Isobel says that Mary will become Violet. It was glorious.

* I hope Cora teased Robert relentlessly about miss dogleash and the whole mess of a dinner.

* it’s kind of nice when there isn’t a single Bates suspected of murder the whole time.

* Cora Crawley, cruise director.

* Mr Molesley lmao.

* weird titanic vibes, tbh

*cora is tucked in so tight to Robert doing their little king of the world thing. omg why are they so cute. meanwhile, why is molesley there? Did they say and I just didn’t care?

*Sybbie inherited a bombass place tho.

* I would like mrs angry mom to do Cora’s hair though.

* Mary’s marriage the Talbot is one of the most nonsensical turns this series took. I still don’t understand it.

*Violet’s green dressing gown makes her look very mcgonagall

*the first all talking movie was a horror film? Lol

*still me taking the piss out of dog leash.

* WAIT. what happened to Spratt? Is he busy writing for Edith now?

* 😭 holding hands on the boat

* with the lawyer they’re all doing Covid seating.

* watching Robert do math in his head is hilarious.

* Cora tries to assure Edith that everything is fine. My dad, who has not seen this yet “oh lord”.

* Suppose he never steps up to the mark. He’s pretty cocky for a dude who waited as long as he did to propose is what I’m saying.

* “just a little heartburn.” Dad: uh oh. We know what happened the last time someone had that.

* did we know about Molesley’s lip reading before?

* mrs hughes - you could do it! why would that have even entered her head?

* is it actually physically impossible for Edith to keep her mouth shut at the dinner table? She’s always like oh a sensitive topic? LET’S DISCUSS.

* I’m not sure I entirely like that Brandon is now wholly ready to be the aristocracy he claimed to dislike. I think we could have found a more middle ground for him.

* Mary called Matthew perfect, a prince. Remember when he was the monster of her fairy tale? aww.

* Talbot was a stupid choice Mary. Sorry not sorry.

* “it’s not enough.” ever get tired of being such a bloody wet blanket Robert. Cora has had it UP TO HERE with his histrionics.

* it’s time! It’s time!

* am I blue. Yes.

* his hand around her neck. send help.

* my dad just told the dogs to be quiet, they’re recording. Then realized what he said. We’re invested fam.

* Daisy. Mvp. Anna’s like “did she just say that”.

* for maybe the first time in her life Mary looks abashed but being caught in the act lol.

* PLAYS IN THE ATTIC? did grow a little crop of March girls after all?

* Cora actually said dog leash. Why. Why did they.

* surgery. What did he think they might be taking out?

* “you’re welcome to ask them” lol.

* honestly at this point Mary should have married will graham over Talbot.

* “two gorgeous men fighting for my favors” lol baby. As of it would be the first time.

* not enough has been said by Cora about The Matter.

* “it must have been a shame to spoil that.” arrighty.

* “I know I can trust you to do the right thing.” shut up I’m crying. She didn’t have anyone since her mother died who she could trust to be morally right. DO NOT TOUCH ME.

* Robert comes bursting in, looking much like I imagine he looked waiting for his babies to be born.

* I don’t care how convenient it is, I adore that the downstairs group got a chance to dress up and be posh. They all look so beautiful.

* why did they give Thomas and Andy mutton chops lmao

*how does mrs h sit with that bustle holy shit.

* miss Baxter looks so pretty.

*”are you not going to kneel?” OH GIRL YES.

* “Marcus us willing” - TO. DO. WHAT?! Are they gonna live in sin?

* I’m glad Thomas finally gets his happy ending. He’s not afraid anymore.

* Tom is a good dad.

* “finished you off” really clarkson? There wasn’t a slightly better way?

* that so great a lady should go when the house is full of film people.

* “dear boy�� I cry

* *sobbing* Mary wearing Violet’s brooch.

* oh shit. Isobel sitting alone. That was the part that lanced my heart right open. I can’t. I can’t.

* Cora and George.

* Henry really did just leave Mary alone to this. HE WAS A BAD CHOICE MARY. She buries her grandmother. Alone.

* one final gut punch with that portrait.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

--

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

--

masterpost

-

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times. 

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.” 

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

--

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who’s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

--

Smitten was not the word you would use.  It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign. 

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy.  -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering.  Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

--

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter. 

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry? 

--

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

--

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” --  “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.” 

-- 

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

-- 

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. “Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story. 

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you. 

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them. 

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast. 

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically. 

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day. 

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth. 

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes. 

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully. 

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript. 

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?” 

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.” 

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind. 

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks. 

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face. 

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.” 

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head. 

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand. 

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley. 

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with. 

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates. 

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along. 

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity. 

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?” 

“Of course.” 

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.” 

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her. 

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says. 

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock? 

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.” 

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else. 

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese. 

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich. 

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way. 

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records." 

"What've you got?" 

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts." 

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long." 

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart." 

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?" 

"Times three deposits," Riley adds. 

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash." 

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?” 

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.” 

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen. 

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all. 

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?" 

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this. 

"Uh huh. Sure." 

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger. 

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy. 

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces. 

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while. 

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.” 

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good. 

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?” 

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?” 

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?” 

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door. 

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment. 

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.  

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him. 

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door. 

Ah. 

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.” 

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction. 

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated. 

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing. 

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning. 

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her. 

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter. 

Harley, it turns out, is no exception. 

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it. 

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there. 

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes. 

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.” 

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel. 

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.” 

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life. 

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.” 

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.” 

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants. 

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog. 

“This is Harley.” 

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.” 

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it. 

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife. 

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.” 

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic. 

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway. 

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch. 

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that. 

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that. 

He can’t. 

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.” 

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that. 

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.” 

Mac’s brain short-circuits. 

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing. 

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago. 

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing. 

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion. 

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.” 

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.” 

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.” 

He is not good. He is definitely not good. 

And Riley knows it. 

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously. 

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them. 

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one. 

He’s screwed.

.

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[thiswasinevitableid]

63. sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “[person] is [attractive] enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard

Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go!

It’s the rabbit that draws her eye; it’s not everyday a bunny the size of a Beagle stops outside the window of Amnesty House. She follows the leash from the harness to the hand holding it, and spots a much bigger issue.

“Miss?” She steps onto the porch, “could you not take my flowers.”

“Yeeeeep!” The other woman drops the pocket knife she’s using to saw off the stems of tulips and irises, scrambling to her feet and tearing her fishnets in the process, “shit, um, I’m sorry, didn’t think you’d notice, I’ve done it before and you never, um, nevermind.” She pulls the rabbit back from the fence, “anyway, I really needed this, they’re really pretty and I think she’d like them-”

“Ohhhhh, I get it” Dani crosses her arms, “in that case, I’ll come with you. I want to see the person who’s cute enough to warrant multiple flower thefts.”

“Um, or! You could not do that and I could promise to never do this again?”

“Nope, my mind’s made up.” She slips on her Birkenstocks and heads down the front stairs. Jake and Moira are both home, so she’s not too worried about locking up.

“Fine. Let me just-” The woman scoops the rabbit up and sprints away. Dani could just let her go, but those were her heirloom irises, damn it, and she wants to make sure the person who gets them knows just how valuable they are. So off she goes, soles slapping the pavement as they head towards the lakeside.

She won’t be surprised if the recipient is hot; god knows the thief is. The freckles and red-streaked hair is just the icing on the combat-boot, denim-vested femme cake.

Growing up in this neighborhood means she never loses sight of her target, even when she’s cutting through alleys and taking sharp turns. Then the woman goes straight through a wall of junipers and Dani is not interested in getting that scratched up by plants today. This is one of the borders of the park, so all she needs to do is find the front entrance to relocate her very distinct thief.

Ten minutes of hunting later, she spots a red and black pompadour on the other side of a low, stone wall. She’s cross-legged on the grass, which the rabbit is happily munching by her side.

“Okay, seriously, does the person you’re seeing know those...are...aw fuck.”

The other woman turns from the gravestone she’s sitting by to look at her, “Yeah. This is kinda why I didn’t want you to come with me. I mean, it was a hella weird thing to do anyway, but” she sweeps her arm at the cemetery, “this is super not a date.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dani sits on the opposite side of the rabbit, “That never even occurred to me. I…” she sneaks a glance at the dates; the death was only three years ago, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

Silence settles between them; she feels like she should say something else, that it’d be rude to just shrug and walk away, but she has no clue what words are even appropriate here. The rabbit stretches its neck, bonking it’s nose into her hand. She pets it, smiling when it nestles closer.

“Mom really liked bulbs.” The thief says softly, “when I was little we’d always go for walks in the spring just so we could see the first ones popping out of the ground. She liked ones that were unique, so when I saw the orange and black ones in your garden all I could think was how happy they’d make her. How she woulda stopped to look at them whenever she walked past. I know it’s silly but I, um, this felt like the closest I could get to giving her that.”

The breeze carries dried iris petals from the headstone into the park beyond the wall.

“You could have just asked. There’s no way I would have said no if you told me what they were for.”

“It felt too weird. Everything feels weird these days.” She sighs, reaching out to rub dust from the stone, “I thought I was ready to come back, but it’s like the whole town is haunted.”

The fresh flowers wobble, then land on the grass. Dani grabs them and puts them back, the rabbit honking indignantly when she does.

“At least Dr. Harris Bonkers is having a nice time.” The other woman rubs the rabbit’s ears, “isn’t that right, buddy?”

“What’s he a doctor of?”

A small, beautiful smile, “Psychology. He worked hard for his PhD.”

“I bet.” She gives the doctor a final rub on the nose, “I’ll, uh, I should give you two some time alone.” Dani stands, brown eyes watching her the whole time.

“Thanks for the flowers.”

She smiles, “You’re welcome.”

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

Moira’s expecting a package, so Dani doesn’t even look up when the older woman answers the front door.

“Um, hi. I, um, I was hoping to get some flowers? The blonde who lives here said I should ask this time. I’m Aubrey? Wait, I don’t think I told her that.”

“Which blonde?”

“The cute one?”

“....I meant the boy or the girl.” Moira replies, amused, just as Dani reaches the door.

Aubrey waves, “Hi again. Could I take a few Irises?”

“Sure. Oh, wait, let me get you the pruning shears; the knife isn’t great for cuttings.”

“Dani! Could I get a hand really quick?” From the accompanying clanks, Barclay needs said hand urgently.

“Coming! Here, you can just leave them on the steps when you’re done.”

One hour and a narrowly avoided soup disaster later, she’s herding the others to the table when there’s another knock on the door.

“I, um, I stuck these in my bag without thinking.” Aubrey holds out the shears. In the porchlight, her eyes are red-rimmed and there’s a slight smear in the black lipstick on her upper lip.

“It happens. Jake, my roommate, once went a whole day with six boxes of poptarts in his bag because he got distracted while unloading groceries. Uh, if you’re not busy we’re just about to have dinner. Seems only polite to invite my biggest admirer.”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows.

“My, uh, the biggest admirer of my gardening?” Her cheeks are hot, but her flustered tone seems to relax Aubrey.

“Sure. I just have to make sure I get home in time to feed Dr. Harris Bonkers.” She grins and steps into the house.

It’s common for Amnesty residents to bring home friends (or strangers), so when Barclay spots Aubrey he simply ducks back into the kitchen for an extra set of cutlery and a bonus bowl. As always happens when Barclay cooks, everyone is too busy stuffing their faces for the first ten minutes of dinner to say much.

“So, Aubrey” Mama sips her tea, “what brings you to town?”

“I grew up here but, um, I left a few years ago to try and kickstart my career.”

“What do you do?”

Literal sparks fly from her guest’s fingertips as she wiggles them, “magic.”

“Whoah, sweet!” Jake leans forward, “do you do stunts?”

“Nah” Aubrey’s smile is brightening under the excitement, “I do sleight of hand, card tricks, that kind of thing. I like the classics. Lots of other people do too, but I hit a spell where no one was interested in booking me, so I came back here to regroup.”

“Smart thinkin’. Pretty much everyone here knows that tryin to make ends meet on the road can lead to serious trouble.”

“Or grand theft auto.” Dani smirks at Barclay.

“That was an accident!”

“Wait, what?” Aubrey laughs, the room feeling ten times brighter when she does, “how does that even happen?”

Barclay recounts the story, blushing all the while, then points out that at least he never got stuck halfway up an off-limits slope because he was daydreaming, and to which Jake responds that that’s not even in his top ten wipeouts, dude.

Aubrey hangs around, helping Dani with the dishes while they chat about childhood pets (Dani had a frog that required her to drop food on his head in order for him to notice it). When she finally re-laces her boots, her new friend is smiling constantly and Dani never wants to look at anything else.

“Hey, uh, tonight was really fun. Do you want to come by on Friday? I’m, uh, I’m cooking, so it won’t be as good as what Barclay made, but I’d love for you to try my breakfast salad. Oh, and my muffin. Muffins.”

“I’d love to. And don’t sell yourself short, flowergirl” Aubrey winks, shooting finger guns her way, “I bet your dinner is gonna rule.”

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

“What do you think? Too much?” Aubrey turns from the mirror. Dr. Harris Bonkers wiggles his nose.

“You’re right, the heels are too much. Gotta leave some plausible deniability. And be able to run away if this goes bad.” She tosses the black heels back into the closet and squeezes into the tiny bathroom to start on her make-up. It has to be perfect, or as perfect as she can get it in the mirror that’s inexplicably high up on the wall.

Yeesh, is getting ready to impress a cute girl really the thing making her consider moving back in with dad? It would be easier to find the right clothes if she had a space to hang them up in, instead of stacked boxes to dig through. But walking the streets where mom used to hold her hand, eating at the places they’d go for breakfast, all those vortexes of memories are hard enough to free herself from on their own. Sitting in the chair she used to, expecting to see her at the table or in the yard, those things would be too much.

It’s been easier since she found Amnesty. Since she found Dani. It’s hard to be stuck in the shadows of the past when there’s a beautiful ray of sunshine sitting next to you. She has dinner there most days now, practices her new routine while Dani updates the inventory for her online plant store.

Relatedly, Aubrey now has several rabbit-safe houseplants that Dani always offers to come check on. Aubrey’s actually pretty good with plants, but she’s not about to miss out on an evening sandwiched next to Dani on her futon and the ghost of jasmine perfume winding around her when she sleeps.

Amnesty is lit only by the string lights on the porch and the glow from the kitchen when Aubrey bounds up the stairs.

“Dani?”

“Oh, hey, you’re early.” Dani leans in the doorway of the kitchen and Aubrey’s brain sounds like a cartoon, nothing but “boiiings” and “wowzas” for a good ten seconds.

Dani’s hair is out of it’s usual messy bun, and instead of her overalls or patched jeans, she’s in a short, heather green tank-top dress. Getting on her knees to kiss the vine tattoos weaving up her legs would be too forward, but boy does she want to.

“Took an earlier bus just to be safe. Man, it’s so weird to be here when it’s this quiet.”

“No kidding; I can’t remember the last time I was the only one here.” Dani shoos her through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The little white table usually piled with tools is cleared of everything but a green tablecloth and two wine glasses. That’s another point in the “yes, this is a date” category. The first was that Dani was careful to emphasize that everyone would be gone for the night for camping, work, or ill-advised urban skate stunts.

“Sit your cute butt down, I’ll be right back with dinner.”

That’s the first butt-based compliment she’s gotten, so score one for this red skirt. When Dani comes back, Aubrey can’t help but bounce in her seat; her crush is carrying a board covered in fruit and bread, and she absolutely sees a fondue pot on the counter inside.

“Since Cheesy Heat closed, I thought I could recreate it for us. Kinda. Barclay said he thinks they used a super fancy cheese that’s hard to get here.”

“That’s probably why they went out of business. Dang, why so many fondue pots?”

“Barclay keeps getting them for Christmas.” She sets the chocolate one down next to the cheese, and when she tugs on her dress before sitting down Aubrey’s mouth waters from more than just the meal.

The stars come out as they take turns making a mess of the table cloth, but the longer she sits here, happier than she’s been in years, the more Aubrey knows she can’t put the question off.

“Why the fancy dinner tonight?”

Dani dabs her mouth with her napkin, “I, uh, I, Cheesy Heat was my go-to, uh” her voice drops to a whisper, “date place.”

“Ohthankgod.” Aubrey flops back in her chair, “this is a date.”

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t wanna, like, assume.”

“Fireblossom” Dani stands, making a little half circle to reach her, “the first time we met you were stealing from me assuming I wouldn’t notice.”

“To be fair, getting caught in petty theft is less terrifying than making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot girl.” She grins as Dani straddles her lap.

“...okay you’re right, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you. Again.”

“A girl who can run me down in sandals is pretty hot.”

“Pfft” Dani giggles, hides her face in Aubrey’s shoulder, “not as hot as a girl who can sprint while carrying a twelve pound rabbit.”

“Seventeen.” Aubrey kisses her cheek, whispers teasingly, “you shoulda told me this was a date, I could’ve brought flowers.”

“You can bring me some next time.” Dani sits up, smiling at her.

“Sweet, I know somewhere I can get them for free.” She bounces her eyebrows, making the vision of perfection in her lap laugh.

“Nope, this time it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Dani cups her cheeks and dives down for a kiss, Aubrey clinging to her dress and sighing as she slips her tongue between her lips.

“Few of those” Dani murmurs, brushing their noses together.

“I’m happy to pay them.”

[extratragic]

duchess

pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

warning: hints at sex, swearing, Kelce being a protective brother.

word count: 2266

request: Could you do a jj x kelces! Sister 👉🏽👈🏽🤧✌🏽❤️

author: I’m not gonna lie to y’all. I kinda love kelce just bc he’s barely there (yes I am ignoring the fights at this moment) and bc I love Deion

summary: It wasn’t easy becoming friends with the Pogues considering Kelce is your older brother, but you managed to do that and wiggle your way into one boy's heart.

Your brother wasn’t really a bad guy. Sure, he was a douche bag with his friends, but he was always different with you. It was a good thing, too, because everyone knew how bad Rafe and Sarah’s relationship was, but you had a great brother. He cared about you, protected you, took care of you when your parents didn’t bother. 

Kelce had a good heart but he didn’t have good friends.

He did hate Pogues, though. John B and JJ were the two people that could get under his skin with one word. It kind of sucked when all you wanted to do was be friends with them and they hated you because of your brother. 

You got along with Kie and Pope. When Kie and Sarah became enemies, you were stuck in the middle of them. You told them both that you weren’t going to pick sides, so they dealt with that and you hung out with them separately. 

That’s how you officially met the other three boys. 

It was refreshing to be around people that didn’t care about how your hair looked or what outfit you had on. Pope warmed up to you quickly when he saw how you acted around Kie. He thought you were sweet and he was happy to let you hang out with the group. John B was iffy about you. He didn’t trust Kelce or any Kooks, really, so he kept you at arm's length and only spoke to you when Kie was around. 

JJ was an entirely different story. The only Kook he would ever trust was Kiara Carrera, not you. You were associated with the Kook royalty, and that was the worst of them all. You, Kie, and Pope all reminded him that Kie was once best friends with Sarah, but he ignored that fact. Kie wasn’t related to one of them by blood. You were. 

It took months for JJ to warm up to you. You went to different schools, so you met with the four Pogues almost every day after you did your homework. JJ hated it for the first two months, and then he acted like he hated it for the three months after that. He didn’t know what changed after that second month, but he started to enjoy having you around. 

Maybe it was the day that John B let you drive the HMS Pogue and you looked like a kid in a candy store. 

Or it could’ve been the time that you were going over Pope’s scholarship essay and he noticed how you bit the tip of your tongue when you were really concentrating.

It could’ve been the day that you and Kie had a fashion show of the clothes from your most recent shopping spree and how the majority of the things you bought were things Pogues would wear and Kooks wouldn’t be caught dead in. Or the way that your yellow sundress fell perfectly over your figure. 

Either way, JJ didn’t like that he had a crush on a girl that was siblings with a guy that enjoyed beating on him. 

But damn did he want to admit it to you the day that you showed up to a kegger in ripped shorts and a little bikini top. The feelings washed away when he saw Kelce, Rafe, and Topper behind you. 

Kelce wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you found comfort in his hold. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but being around Rafe at a party always made you uncomfortable. He only had one drink so far, but he was starting to get touchy. 

“I’m gonna go find my friends,” you told Kelce. 

“The Pogue ones?” Topper asked in disgust. 

“Yeah, Top. It’s not like it’s any of your business, though,” you snapped. 

Kelce nodded and pushed you away before you started an argument with the blonde. You found JJ and John B at the keg and smiled widely, standing in front of them. 

“Four cups, Pogues,” you told them.

“Wow, the duchess getting drinks for other people?” John B mocked. 

“Wouldn’t you rather I get the drinks for the ass holes than you seeing them?” you asked, cocking one eyebrow. 

John B laughed and nodded, filling the plastic cups.

“I’ll help you,” JJ offered. 

“Not a good idea, J. I’ll be right back, don’t worry,” you said, winking at him. 

He rolled his eyes and you managed to grab all four cups, heading towards the three boys you left behind. You handed three of the cups to Kelce and grabbed his wrist before he walked away. 

“Tell the ass holes that there will not be a fight tonight. There is no reason for a fight, and I will personally beat their asses if they make one,” you told him.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell them to do the same, then,” he grumbled. 

“I will. I love you, Kelce,” you said. 

“Love you too,” he said quietly. 

You grinned and shook your head, walking away from your brother again and towards the only Pogues willing to befriend you. They weren’t at the keg anymore, though. The two boys were now with Kie and Pope by one of the small bonfires. 

“Hello, my favorite people,” you said, putting your elbows on JJ and John B’s shoulders. 

It was actually pretty hard to do considering they’re taller, but you somehow managed. 

“Hello, my favorite Kook,” Pope responded. 

“So, I made Kelce promise to make sure the hotheads don’t start any fights. Sarah should be here to keep Topper on a leash soon. But I promised to tell you two to not start any fights. And before you argue with me, I said start, not finish. But if you do finish a fight, please don’t drown anyone,” you suggested.

Kie scrunched her nose at the mention of Sarah, but she laughed at your last sentence. 

“What are you gonna do if we start one, duchess?” JJ asked. 

You moved your elbows off of the two boys' shoulders and crossed your arms over your chest. You didn’t miss the way JJ’s eyes flickered down to your cleavage. 

“Throw you in my dungeon,” you replied smoothly. 

He raised his eyebrows at you and you smiled slyly, winking at him. 

At some point, your relationship with JJ went from avoidance and rude comments to a lot of sexual attraction on your side. You had been flirting with JJ for at least a month now, and each of the Pogues could feel the tension between you two. JJ was a natural flirt, so the two of you went back and forth until someone else forced themselves into the conversation before the two of you jumped on each other on the boat. 

None of them were gonna jump in tonight. 

“Is it a nice dungeon?” JJ asked.

“I think it’s a pretty great dungeon. You’d enjoy it,” you told him.

“How long do I have to stay?” He continued. 

“As long as you want to,” you grinned. 

He smirked and shook his head, taking a drink from his cup. You held your eye contact with him until a redhead walked up to the group and pressed her chest against JJ’s arm. 

You rolled your eyes and turned towards Kie, seeing her smirking at you. 

“What?” You asked. 

She shrugged and you sighed, chugging the gross beer in your cup. You were gonna need alcohol to get through all of the girls throwing themselves at JJ. It was sad to watch, honestly. You didn’t have a problem with girls wanting to have sex, but some of them just looked so desperate that it hurt to watch. 

There was one party where you and Kie counted twenty girls that asked JJ for sex, and fourteen of those girls were almost begging him. You applauded the girls that were subtle and kept the blonde on his toes. 

“Come on, let’s get another,” Kie said, nodding her head in the direction of the keg. 

You nodded and followed her lead, happily letting her fill your cup up again. 

“So when are you and JJ gonna fuck?” She asked. 

“Kie, what the fuck?” You asked. 

“What? I’m asking a simple question,” she shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and looked at JJ, seeing the redhead gone now. A satisfied smile fell onto your lips and you looked at Kie again. 

“Dunno. He might just get lucky tonight if he answers this question correctly,” you smirked. 

She followed you over to the blonde and stood between Pope and John B as you wrapped your hand around JJ’s bicep. He looked down at you and you smiled sweetly. 

“Getting your dick wet tonight?” You asked bluntly. 

Pope and John B choked on their drinks and Kie laughed loudly. JJ chuckled and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Only if you’re the one in bed with me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes closed and you sighed at the sound of your brother's voice. When you opened your eyes and turned around. Kelce was standing behind the two of you, fuming. 

“What the fuck did he just say?” He spat.

“It was a joke, Kelce. Not something to get mad about,” you sighed.

Your brother took a step closer to JJ and you quickly stood between them. 

“Don’t start. He didn’t do anything wrong. I brought it up. I started it. You don’t get to be a dick for no reason,” you snapped. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, y/n? He just said he’s gonna sleep with you!” He exclaimed. 

“Actually, I said I would sleep with her, you know, if she wants,” JJ said, seemingly taunting Kelce.

You were quick to turn your head and glare at him. It’s like he was asking for a fight. 

“John B, will you take him somewhere else, please?” You asked. 

John B nodded and grabbed JJ’s shoulders, making him walk away from you and your brother. Once you were sure that JJ was gone, you turned your head so you were looking at Kelce again. 

“Dude, I’m fine. JJ makes those jokes all the time. He’d never do anything to me without my consent. He’s a good guy with a really bad mouth and temper, like you,” you said, trying to calm Kelce down.

“I don’t like him,” he stated simply.

“I know, but I do. You could grow to like him,” you shrugged.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around at the group of people. You knew that he was trying to calm himself while around you. Whenever he was angry or frustrated, he had to do something with his hands and he wouldn’t look at you if you were part of the reason why he was frustrated. 

“I was coming to tell you that we’re leaving,” he told you after a few more moments. 

“Are you okay with me staying? I haven’t drunk that much and if I do, they’ll take care of me,” you asked. 

“I guess. Just please don’t sleep with JJ,” he groaned.

You laughed lightly and nodded, wrapping your arms around Kelce’s neck. 

“I’ll be sure to try, big brother. Go have fun and don’t worry about me. I’ll be home tomorrow,” you told him.

He hummed and wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you just a bit. 

“Be safe. Call me if you need me,” he said as he let go. 

“Okay, dad,” you teased. 

He started walking backward, pointing his finger at you. 

“Seriously. And put a shirt on,” he told you. 

You mock saluted him and he smiled before turning around and walking over to Rafe, Topper, and Sarah. You waved at Sarah and she blew you a kiss before leaving with the boys. 

John B took JJ to one of the bonfires around the beach and you groaned when you saw a girl draped over JJ. Pope was the first to see you making your way over to them and laughed at your reaction. He said something to JJ and the blonde turned around, smiling at you.

You raised your eyebrows and put your hand on your shoulder, acting like you were picking something up and moving it away from your body to drop it. 

His smile widened and he turned to the Touron, telling her something. She quickly stood up and walked off without an argument and you sighed happily, sitting beside JJ when you reached the group.

“What’d you tell her to make her leave so quickly?” You asked.

“That I have herpes,” he shrugged. 

You laughed lightly and laid your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, resting his hand on the side of your ass, his fingertips tapping the skin below the hem of your shorts.

“So, am I getting my dick wet tonight?” He whispered, grinning against your ear. 

You turned to face him, lips brushing his. 

“If you’re lucky,” you said quietly.

He pressed his lips against yours and you tangled your fingers in his hair, gripping his arm with your free hand. JJ’s other hand grabbed your chin, keeping your lips pressed to his as he deepened the kiss. 

Heat shot through your body and you moaned quietly, making JJ grin smugly. 

“Yeah, okay, you’re lucky,” you grinned. 

He laughed lightly and kissed you softly. 

“I knew you liked me,” he teased. 

“Maybe you’re not so lucky,” you said, pushing him away. 

JJ laughed and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You happily snuggled into his arms while your friends gagged and made fun of you two. 

[backtobackbakubabe]

I am the Alpha Now Part 2

Bakugo X Reader 

Words : 2797

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically

*****************************************************************************************************

You tossed and turned all night much to Mercy’s annoyance. He huffed every time you rolled over. He was usually a pretty heavy sleeper but it seemed even he was a little on edge. 

Before you knew it the sun was rising and there was a loud pounding at your door. There’s no way you slept through your alarm. You would have had to actually be asleep to do that. You rolled over and peaked at your phone and saw that it was 5:30 in the morning. A whole hour before you had originally planned to wake up. 

You tried to ignore the man outside your door but no matter how tight you pulled the pillow over your head you still heard his fist banging on your door. Finally, you gave up and rolled out of bed. You dragged your feet to the door and threw it open. Bakugo had been mid knock and was thrown off balance at the door being suddenly swung open. He caught himself on the door frame his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You were in an oversized t shirt, big fluffy socks, and your hair was in a messy bun with your hair hanging out in multiple places. You knew you looked rough, but you couldn’t find it in you to care before 6 am. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and leaned your sleepy head against the door, “Dude what the fuck. Iida said you’d be here at 7…” 

Bakugo’s crossed his arms over his chest, “No he said I would be here no later than 7… now get ready and for shits sake put some fucking pants on.”

You quirked an eyebrow as the tips of his ears turned a little pink, “Oh? Do my bare legs seduce you?” You tugged on the collar of your giant t-shirt exposing your bare shoulder, “How about my shoulders? Do they really drive you crazy?” 

Bakugo rolled his eyes before turning his back to you, “As if I would ever be tempted by an extra like you! Now hurry up! I run on a tight schedule. I need to get my morning workout in before class!” 

You scoffed, “That’s why we’re up this early? So you can workout? You could totally do that without me… Come on man seriously!” 

You saw the muscles in his back tense up, “Listen here idiot! I’ve been instructed to help you until you acclimate or whatever so if I’m working out, you’re working out. If I’m studying, you’re studying. Now get your ass into some gym clothes and let’s fucking move!” 

You slammed the door and stomped over to your closet. There were two gym uniforms and two regular uniforms. Your eyes lingered on the skirts… you didn’t usually wear skirts, especially skirts that short. You packed one uniform in your school bag and quickly dressed into the gym clothes. 

You threw a pillow at Mercy on your way out, “Come on bud. Time to get to work..”

He slowly stretched before walking up next to you at a snails’ pace. “Do we have to? I was finally starting to get some real sleep.”

You grabbed his collar, leash, and collapsible water bowl as you opened the door again. “Take it up with sparky out here. He’s the one who is insisting we have to go.” 

Bakugo rolled his eyes as Mercy just gave him a bored stare, “Are you guys just going to talk shit about me all day?”

You shrugged, “Yeah, probably. It’s what we do best.” You reached for Mercy and went to put his collar on. He stiffened for a bit before mumbling at you. “I know you hate it, but you have to, now quit your whining.”

Bakugo tilted his head, “He doesn’t like his collar?”

You shook your head as you finally got it clipped into place, “He hates it. I can’t really blame him though. Collars are for pets. He’s not my pet, he’s my beta. He’s a pack member. But people tend to freak out when a huge wolf-dog walks by and I feel like the collar lets them know he’s not wild or something.” 

You were following him out of the dorms now. He nodded, “That makes sense I guess. So is he going to be with you all the time? I get that he’s kind of like an extension of your quirk but even when we’re in class?” 

You started to take your messy bun down so you could braid it later, “Well usually he’s with me pretty much 24/7. He really is smart. I think he could really benefit from being in class. If nothing else it’ll help him with his social skills.” You looked over at Mercy who was busy walking ahead of you sniffing everything he possibly could. “He doesn’t really like many people. I think it’s just because people tend to treat him like a dumb dog and it bothers him. I’m hoping if I can get him around other people he can actually make friends.” 

“Tch. You act like he’s an actual person..”

You gave Bakugo’s shoulder a shove, “Just because I was born a human doesn’t mean I am not also a wolf. The same can be said Mercy. Every day his mind grows and evolves. For me it’s like having a brother.” 

You thought Bakugo would have some mean comment about treating Mercy like a human but instead he shrugged, “Well just make sure little brother keeps those massive teeth away from me. He may be evolved or whatever but he’s still an asshole.” 

You giggled, “You got that right. But that probably has a lot to do with the fact that his personality is somewhat influenced by mine.” 

Bakugo nodded as he opened the door to the training facility, “That could also be why he doesn’t get along with other people. Seems like you two are kind of codependent.” 

Your shoulders tensed. That wasn’t the first time someone had said that. You ran your fingers through you long thick (h/c) hair, pulling out the knots. “I’ll admit we do live in our own little world sometimes. But until you’ve experienced the kind of bond we have being in a pack its hard to explain.” The watch you were wearing got caught in pretty bad tangle and you winced. 

“Dumbass. Do you ever brush your hair?” Bakugo was behind you now helping you free your watch. His fingers were surprisingly gentle and if you were being honest it felt kind of good. You couldn’t let him know that though.

“Of course I brush my fucking hair. I just have a lot of fucking hair!”

Mercy was now trying to put himself in between you and Bakugo, “He is too close. Tell him to back up. I don’t like it. Too close.”

When Bakugo didn’t budge Mercy gave him a nudge.“Seriously why does he hate me so much?”

You put your hand on his shoulder, “Why do you care whether he likes you or not?”

Bakugo leaned in and put his hand over yours, “I don’t.” He shoved your hand away, “Now let’s get started.” He turned to look at Mercy, “Go take a seat over there by the wall. You’ll have plenty of time to train with her later but right now it’s my turn.”

Mercy just cocked a head at him which lead to Bakugo narrowing his eyes, “Listen y/n already told me you’re fucking smart, so I know you understand me. Go sit by the wall and take a nap or whatever…”

Mercy gave you a quick look to make sure you were okay. You nodded and he trotted off to the side. 

Bakugo started to stretch, “So was he ignoring me to be an asshole or is your whole alpha thing really that deep?”

You started to braid your hair, “Actually I think he was just taken a bit off guard. Like I said most people treat him like a dumb animal. You spoke directly to him and in a normal voice. If anything I’d say you probably earned some brownie points.”

You could see him trying to hide a smile. He may not be as rough as you thought. 

Bakugo then sent an explosion your way with absolutely zero warning. Just kidding. He’s a dick. 

You could hear him cackling, “Gotta stay on your toes if you’re ever going to catch up.” 

When the smoke cleared he was met with your wolf form. Your bright blue eyes glaring at him. “Mercy whatever happens stand down. I need to prove to this crack head that I’m not the one who needs to catch up…”

Mercy nodded, “If only I had a snack to watch the show. Kick his ass.”

You lunged for Bakugo, pinning him under your full weight, baring your teeth and letting a feral growl rumble from your chest. 

“Damn! Someone needs to go on a diet! How much do you fucking weigh?”

You pushed harder into him before he faced him palms towards the floor and set off an explosion that sent the both of you flying. 

You scrambled to regain your footing and whipped your head around. Where the fuck was he? 

“I know you said to stay out of it but he’s sneaking up from-.”

Bakugo tackled you wrapping his arms around your large neck.

 “….Behind you.” 

You had to give it to him. Bakugo was a lot stronger than he looked. He had you in a tight choke hold and no matter how hard you tried you could buck him off. 

“Just submit already!” He was all you could smell. His sweet, sweaty, burnt caramel smell. It was driving you crazy. You needed to get away from him. 

You stood up on your hind legs and threw yourself backwards. Trapping him underneath you once again, but even then he didn’t let go. “Just submit! Shit!”

You thrashed around, bringing your back feet up to kick and scratch at his arms. You could smell the blood you drew, but somehow he still didn’t let go. Who the fuck was this guy the terminator? 

You could feel your vision going blurry. If you didn’t shift soon you’d run out of air. “Come on don’t be proud!”

Right before you blacked out you shifted back. Gasping for air you were now laying on top of Bakugo. His arm now loose around your shoulders. Your back against his chest. You were sucking in breath coughing now trying to get air back into your lungs. 

Bakugo sat you both up slowly but made no attempt to move you away from him. You were leaning on him now. “Oi! Mercy, there’s a water bottle next to my gym bag. Can you grab it and bring it here?” 

To your surprise Mercy did as he asked and brought the water over. Bakugo took the cap off and immediately handed it to you. “Get some water you stubborn woman. Seriously what were you thinking? You almost passed out?”

You chugged some water before handing it back to him. It was then you noticed the deep gashes in his forearms. “You could…. Have… let go.” 

“Tch, I’m not the one to tap out of a fight.” 

You turned to face him and picked up his arm examining the gashes, “Clearly…” You snapped your fingers and pointed to his bloody arms and Mercy reluctantly started to lick them. 

Bakugo hissed, “Oi! What the fuck! Get him off!”

You thumped him on the nose again like you did last night, “Relax dude, look.”

When he looked down he saw that his wounds had started to heal. “It doesn’t work on all injuries. But it’ll help. It only stings for a bit.”

He huffed, “Yeah thanks for the warning. It stings like a bitch.”

You just shrugged, “I figured if you could let me tear into you without letting go then you could handle a little pain.” 

His eyes lit up a little, “Oh I can handle a little pain you brat. The question is can you?”

Before you could respond Mercy was behind him shoving his nose deep in his hair sniffing him. “I still don’t like him. He’s cocky. But I like him more than other people I don’t like.”

You expected Bakugo to yell and push Mercy away but instead he just sat there looking like a grumpy cat, “Is this necessary?”

You stood up and held out your arm for him, “It can be helpful later if knows your scent. He can track down a scent for miles. He usually doesn’t care enough to remember people’s scents but you seem to be slowly growing on him.” 

He pushed Mercy’s face away from his, “Alright dude, I need to get up. If you don’t mind, please refrain from sniffing my ass when I do.”

Mercy snorted a few times which made Bakugo freeze, “Did he just laugh at me?”

You pet Mercy with you right hand and Bakugo with you left, “He sure did! Look at you guys becoming friends! It’s so cute!”

“Tch, don’t pet me like one of your dogs.” He looked at Mercy, “Do you seriously like that? You don’t like a collar but you like being pet all the time?”

Mercy jumped up and down barking with excitement, “Uh yeah! It feels nice. Is he dumb? Who doesn’t like a good pet?” 

Bakugo reluctantly reached his hand out and gave an awkward pat to the top of Mercy’s head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You were still a little light-headed as you walked towards the girl’s locker room. “I’ll leave you two bros to it. I’m going to go shower and change.”

You could hear Bakugo protesting behind you but you just didn’t care. You needed a shower. You didn’t bother washing your hair. There was just too much hair and not enough time. It would be air drying the rest of the day. So your shower was pretty quick. The hang up came when it was time for that damn skirt.

You pulled it on and immediately felt so exposed. You much preferred shorts. At least with shorts you didn’t have to worry about accidentally leaning over too far and flashing everyone. 

“Hurry up in there we’re going to be late for class!” 

You blushed and grabbed your bag on your way out. You had put on a little bit of makeup to hide the fact you were running on fumes. You were exhausted. 

Bakugo turned to face you when he heard you approaching. You watched his reaction and he didn’t seem to see anything wrong with your uniform. Maybe all the girls looked like this. 

The whole time you followed him to class you were tugging on your skirt trying to make sure it wasn’t riding up. Eventually Bakugo caught on and sighed, “What’s wrong with the skirt? Does it not fit?”

You blushed, “I don’t know… does it? I don’t really wear a lot of skirts. You can’t really fight in a skirt…” 

It was Bakugo’s turn to blush, “You want me to look at your ass… on purpose… to let you know if your skirt fits.”

You threw your head in your hands, “Ugh well when you say it like that I sounds crazy!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around, “Just don’t fucking tell anybody alright.” 

He went silent for a while which did nothing good for your anxiety. He finally cleared his throat as he reached down and tugged your skirt down just slightly. “I will say it is a little short. I think they gave you one based on your height, but I don’t think they knew how… you know…” 

You turned and saw that his cheeks were almost as red as his eyes, “What? Thick I am? I may be a little on the short side, but I work out all the time and I have the ass to prove it.” You tugged a little more, “Is it bad though? Like will I get in trouble or anything?”

Bakugo could see you visibly uncomfortable, “I mean technically it’s still in dress code, I would just highly recommend not bending over, or even making eye contact with the kid with purple balls on his head.” He gave your shoulder a quick shove, “Now let’s move it before we are late. I’ll see what I can do about getting you a different skirt later.” 

You nodded and gave him a mock salute, “Yes sir! Right away sir!” before giggling and walking towards the classroom marked 1A. 

Bakugo looked down at Mercy who was still standing next to him, “She’s going to be the fucking death of me, I just know it.” 

[moneymingyu]

Like in The Movies

summary: in which hoshi watches way too many romance movies and has too many friends who like to watch him suffer.

word count: 2.7k words

pairing: nonidol!hoshi x reader

genre: fluff, comedy

a/n: not very proof read bc i’m super exhausted and my eyes are barely opened atm.

master list

Hoshi has always had this romanticized version of himself playing in the back of his mind.

The cool dude next to the jukebox with a leather jacket who flips a coin then plays the soundtrack to his life. The guy who you spill coffee all over in a Seattle coffee shop then exchange numbers as a form of an apology. The best friend you ask to fake date before realizing he’s been the one for you since day one. The enemy to lover, the boy next door, the childhood best friend you reunite with after years of separation. He partly blames it on all of the movies he watched growing up. A guilty pleasure of his has always been romance movies that he’d watch deep into the night when everything was still and calm. His favorites were the kinds that had him struggling to keep his hiccup at bay, the kinds that made him cry so hard that he’d wake up the next day with swollen eyes and a headache.

“Aren’t you tired of these movies?” Jihoon, his long time best friend and roommate, would ask.

“Never,” Hoshi would reply, unashamed.

He’s seen them all. The Notebook, More Than Blue, The Names of Love, Love Actually. Hoshi can quote them line by line with the same blocking. His friends think it’s impressive but Jihoon is tired of walking into the kitchen at 2AM just to see a Broadway musical in place.

So you’d think that somebody who is basically a book smart Romeo would have a better dating history but...Not Hoshi.

Look. It’s not Hoshi’s fault he’s so awkward. He didn’t ask for the lonely life! The lonely life chose him! So what if romance movies are the only way that he can feel butterflies in his stomach. Whose business is it other than his own?

“Hey Hosh! Remember that time freshman year your crush asked you to the spring fling and you responded by doing a tiger growl at them?”

“Oh my god, I almost forgot about that!” Jun covers his face, bursting into giggles at Jihoon’s trip down memory lane. “He got called a furry for the rest of the year!”

“Oh yeah? And who sat and ate lunch with said furry for the rest of the year?” Hoshi crosses his arms. “Till the day, you’re still eating lunch with the said furry!” A few head turn their way, giving the table an incredulous look. Hoshi sinks in his chair, silently wishing that the floor open and swallow him hole.

“Well maybe that’s because said furry is paying today,” Wonwoo smirks, swiping a fry from Hoshi’s plate.

“Aw, not you too!” Hoshi pouts. “Wonwoo, I put all my faith into you and this is what I get? Slander like a salamander?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jun (who, in Hoshi’s opinion, has said way more questionable things) asks with raised eyebrows.

“Nevermind. It sounded better in my head.” Hoshi sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples.

“C’mon Hoshi,” Wonwoo leans his head on his shoulder. “You know I was kidding. I would sit with you even if you were a real furry.”

“Can we stop talking about furries?!”

“Yo. What do you got against furries? We don’t kink shame around here.”

“Jun, if you say one more thing, I’m going to do an eagle screech right here.”

“That’s not really helping with the furry situation,” Jun mumbles under his breath.

Hoshi decides right then and there that he needs to invest in new friends for the sake of his sanity.

-

“I’m sure somebody likes you, Soon!” Seungkwan offers. “What about the dance studio? Lots of potential there,” he shimmies his shoulders while Dokyeom nudged him from the other side of the couch.

These are his people, he thinks as they watch My Sassy Girl for the tenth time this week.

“He’s right! You’re always a ball of confidence there! Why not try to pick somebody up? Oh!” Dokyeom looks like a lightbulb has gone off inside his head. “What about the receptionist? They’re cute! I heard they’re single too and with Valentine’s Day coming up-“

“Dokyeom! Don’t talk about the V word!”

“Virginity?”

“The other V-word!”

“V-vagi-“

“VALENTINES DAY!” Seungkwan smacks his hand over his mouth like the saying had seared his tongue.

“Oh my god, Valentine’s Day is coming up!” Hoshi whines, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. “I’m going to be alone again!”

“Hey! You always spend Valentine’s Day with us!” Dokyeom frowns.

“We’re going to be alone again!” he moans out.

Seungkwan scoffs. “Speak for yourself. I have a date.”

This causes Soonyoung’s head to snap up. “Huh? A date?” Seungkwan nods, crossing his arms and turning his nose up. “Ah, c’mon! Who is it! You know you wanna tell us!”

“I would tell you if I knew who it was,” Seungkwan sighs, falling back into the couch. “Vernon and Dino set me up on a blind date. Wait? Should I ask them to set you up on one too? You know, Dino’s really good at using Tinder. He made me a profile and then swiped with matches for me and now I’m going on a blind date! Wait, should me and Dokyeom make you one? Quick Dokyeom, what would be the anthem to Hoshi’s life?”

Hoshi gawks at how quick his friends are to move. Seungkwan already has the dating app open while Dokyeom searches up the Les Misérable soundtrack. “Can you guys not?” Hoshi frowns.

But it’s too late. His words are unheard as Dokyeom starts to belt out the words to “Do You Hear the People Sing?” all while Seungkwan is editing pictures of Hoshi for his profile picture.

Hoshi decides right then and there that he needs to invest in new friends for the sake of his sanity.

-

“Thanks for inviting me out, Joshua! I needed some new shoes.”

Joshua is one of the sanest people Hoshi knows. Hoshi thinks it’s because he’s from LA and the people from LA in all the movies he’s watched are super carefree and accepting.

“Don’t mention it,” Joshua smiles while shoving his feet into a pair of slides. “Jeonghan broke my slides yesterday while taking out the trash and tried to pin it on Kkuma. Seungcheol then lectured us for two hours about how we shouldn’t blame things on his daughter then made Jeonghan transfer me the money.”

“Isn’t Kkuma a dog?..” Hoshi smiles from the bench across from him.

“You know Cheol,” Joshua chuckles. “Actually, I also invited you out because I have to ask you a favor! You can object, of course, and I won’t be mad.” Hoshi nods, signaling the older to go on. “Well, actually...The three of us are going away for the weekend. And we usually ask Mingyu and Myungho to watch Kkuma when we’re gone but Myungho has this giant art exhibition and Mingyu’s working double shifts at his bakery so-“ he shrugs. “I think you know where I’m going with this. Could you dog sit Kkuma for us? I’m sure Jihoon will be fine with it. But if you have plans for the Valentine’s Day weekend-“

“No!” Hoshi sighs in relief. “Please give me Kkuma. I’m begging at this point!” Joshua laughs, nodding his head. “You really saved my ass, hyung. The guys are trying to set me up on a blind date but I checked out Seungkwan’s phone while he was in the bathroom and none of them were my type.”

“Consider it a deal,” Joshua smiles, reaching across and ruffling his hair. “Knew I could count on you, Soonie.” Hoshi smiles. He’s so glad to have a friend like Joshua. He really keeps his sanity in tact.

-

Hoshi decides right then and there that he needs to invest new friends for the sake of his sanity.

Kkuma has been barking nonstop all night, whining and crying and even peed in Hoshi’s brand new pair of shoes.

Hoshi doesn’t even know why Kkuma hates him so much but the dog’s antics are enough to have Jihoon packing up and telling him he’ll be back Monday afternoon before leaving to Jun and Wonwoo’s apartment. To make matters worse, Joshua told Hoshi that their trip was technology free so that they could “become spiritually woke.” So any hopes of calling for advice is hopeless.

Hoshi doesn’t understand why Kkuma hates him. He’s a very likeable guy, in his opinion. Bobpul (Mingyu’s dog) would never treat him like this.

“Kkuma, please!” he whines. “I’m standing up a date for this! Please spare me some mercy!” he cries out. The dog jumps up and barks repeatedly. He rubs his eyes over his face. “I don’t understand how something so tiny can make so much noise!”

He rubs his temples. “Okay. If I were Seungcheol, what would I do? Think like Seungcheol. What would Seungcheol do?” Hoshi pouts his lips, puffs out his chest and lowers his voice. “Yah! Kim Mingyu! Watch where you’re walking!” he imitates him from the thousands of times the group has hung out.

He holds the position for a couple of seconds before deflating. “I can’t even hear myself think!” he groans over the barking. “You haven’t even slept yet! Aren’t you tired?” Suddenly an idea pops into his mind.

“I know! Let’s go to the park! Maybe that’ll tire you out! Would you like that? Let’s go!” And they’re off within ten minutes.

It’s a nice day out, thankfully. Warm but not too hot. And though Kkuma is jumping with joy to be at the park, Hoshi thinks he’d rather be at home listening to the dog’s endless whining when he sees the grassy area is packed with couples having a picnic.

He can’t hate, honestly. Picnics are cliché and Hoshi is all for clichés. But it does remind him that today is Valentine’s day and he’s the only one here without somebody to hold hands with.

“Kkuma, you’ll be my Valentine. Right?” he asks as he unclips her leash. But sadly, the dog has other plans as she runs off to play with another dog.

He sighs, plopping down in the grass and picking at the blades. He can’t believe that Kkuma ditched him. After Hoshi bought a new frisbee just for them to play with! He’s deeply offended and will not let Seungcheol live it down when he comes back.

He gives up trying to braid the grass and leans back on his hands, watching the other couples and making up stories about them in their head. He guesses how they met, what their plans are for the day and almost plays it out like a movie in his head.

He’s contemplating becoming a director but then decides that’s too hard and decides maybe he should try writing fanfiction on Archive of Our Own. He’s already picking out his favorite ships from Monsta X when he suddenly hears a shriek from behind him.

“Oh no!” the person whines. “I can’t believe I stepped in dog-“

“Shit!” Hoshi pops up as he sees Kkuma standing at the sidewalk. He sees the disgruntled look on your face then looks down at Kkmua, who looks the happiest she’s been since Hoshi got her. “Hi!” he says rather worriedly. “I’m so sorry! This is my fault! I wasn’t watching Kkuma and to be honest, this dog kind of hates me but here!” He shoves a packet of tissues he had in his back pocket into your hands. “You can have these! Wait I think I have wet wipes in my bag. Just give me a second and,” he drops to his knees, fumbling with his backpack, “Kkuma is just a baby but I promise she’s not usually like this! She’s so well behaved but I think she has some kind of hidden agenda against me because her dad took me out to eat pork belly the other week. Oh! Here they are! Here, do you want me to wipe it off for you? I don’t mind! It’s my fault and plus, I’ve been picking up Kkuma’s dog poop all day. For somebody so small, she sure does poop a lot! And-“ Hoshi suddenly freezes, a heat rising up from the back of his neck onto his cheeks and into his ears.

Seriously?! he thinks. You seriously went on a rant about dog poop! Just when I thought I had some hope in you, Soonyoung, you prove me wrong again! You’re gonna die alone! You hear me? ALONE!

Hoshi slowly brings himself up from his kneeling position. “I mean...” he awkwardly laughs. And to his surprise, you laugh back. But not in a mocking way like people usually do. You seem genuinely amused by his rant.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m over it,” you giggle. “I just have to be dramatic about it first.” Hoshi nods slowly, too scared to say anything else. “My names YN.”

“Soonyoung,” he bows slightly. “But my friends call me Hoshi.”

“Oh! Like tiger gaze?” you ask, making claws at him for emphasis.

“Oh! Uh! Exactly, actually!” he grins.

You nod. “I think I’ve heard of you actually,” you explain. “My friend works at Seventeen Dance Company and he’s always talking about his funny friend Hoshi.”

“Oh? Who’s your friend? I must know them!”

“It’s Minghao,” you reply. “I was actually on my way to his art exhibition.” Hoshi nods his head, understanding. “Were you not going to go?”

“Myungho doesn’t like when our friend group goes to his art exhibitions. We got fired after Mingyu had one too many drinks and started to strip talking about some ‘life imitates art’ while standing next to a bust.” His face flushes an even deeper red. “I’m sorry! I don’t know when to shut up sometimes. I’m not good at this.”

You shrug, “I’m having fun.”

“Really?” Hoshi gasps.

You nod. “Yeah. Now c’mon, give me those wet wipes. You’re gonna come with me to Hao’s event. He told me I can bring a plus one and the venue is pet friendly!”

-

“And that’d how I met YN!” Hoshi grins at the round table of his friends.

“I can’t believe romance movie enthusiast met the person of his dreams over dog poop,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I’m taking full credit for this relationship, by the way. I call best man at the wedding.”

“What? Why do you get credit?!” Seungkwan rebuttals.

“Because the weekend get away was my idea,” he smirks.

“Yeah well Kkuma is my dog so I should be the best man!” Seungcheol argues.

“Hold up. If it weren’t for me and Seungkwan making Hoshi a tinder, who knows what would’ve happened this weekend while he was avoiding us,” Dokyeom points outs out, crossing his arms.

“But Vernon and I were the ones who taught Seungkwan how to even use tinder!” Dino retorts.

Jun scoffs, “You guys wouldn’t even know what tinder was if it weren’t for me and Wonwoo.”

“But I’m his roommate so I get automatic best man rights,” Jihoon says.

“Yeah but YN is my friend and she was heading to my exhibition so by default, I’m going to be the best man because I didn’t even kick Hoshi out when he showed up.”

“Yeah, still offended,” Mingyu rolls his eyes. “How many times do I have to say sorry until you accept my apology?!”

“Until I’m not known as the artist who had a quote unquote ‘model’ take his clothes off in the middle of my show so that I could prove that life can imitate art!”

Hoshi shakes his head and laughs as the argument wages on with you tucked under his chin.

“Are they always like that?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah but...I don’t think I’d trade them for the world,” Hoshi replies, smiling.

It’s right then and there that Hoshi decides that he has all the friends that he needs and for the sake of his sanity, he will have to keep them. They did, after all, lead them to you.

[oikaoi]

Tony didn’t often call Peter himself. If he had something important to say, he’d just wait until Peter visited the lab every other day. Sometimes, if it couldn’t wait, he’d text him. On most occasions he’d just tell happy to tell him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to Peter on the phone, they just didn’t really do that.

On this particular Thursday afternoon though, Tony decided to call. Peter was late showing up to the lab, it was almost an hour later than his usual arrival time. Calling wasn’t something they did, so it would make Peter feel awkward, which would be hilarious, Tony decided. Maybe that was uncool, but Peter made Tony wait so he didn’t feel that bad.

“FRIDAY?” He addressed his AI, gazing casually at the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yes sir?”

“Call Underoos,” he said, smiling a little despite himself. He could hear the call go out over the lab speakers and ring once, twice, three times, and then the line clicked through.

•••

He hadn’t meant to be late. He could swear up and down that he’d been on his way in time, but something came up. What was he suppose to have done? Leave a group of four electric weapon wielding bad guys to terrorize citizens? He didn’t think so. Unfortunately the battle had not been quick, and a myriad of things seemed to have gone wrong. The bad guys split up and he’d had to chase each one individually. They kept leaving these time release electric bombs everywhere that hurt like a butt cheek on a stick when they went off. The four bad guys created a surprising amount of collateral damage, meaning that Peter was constantly occupied with saving people who were caught in the crossfire, giving electric dudes a chance to escape.

Just as he’d caught up to the last dude on a bridge, the dude had used an electric repulsor to push two buses and three cars over the edge. Peter launched into action. He threw webs at all five vehicles, binding them together and holding onto a web leashing them to him. He braced his feet against the suspension supports of the bridge and pulled. He managed to stop the falling vehicles about ten feet above the water. Just as he was about to start trying to haul them back up, his body seized and he almost dropped them all together. The last guy had thrown an electric bomb only five feet away from Peter. And he was more than an hour late for lab day. This sucked.

Peter managed to take one hand off of the web he was using to hold onto the vehicles, and webbed the last bad guy to the ground as he tried to run away across the bridge. At least he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Maybe they would rename Murphy’s Law to Parker’s Law,” he mumbled to himself, “with the amount of stupid stuff that happens to me it’d be fitting. And then at least I’d have something cool named after me.” He continued to grumble as he tried to haul the web in. He had no idea what he would do once he got the group to the bridge, he sure as heck wasn’t getting the vehicles back over the edge, but he’d think of something. Before he made any significant progress, the electric bomb went off again.

“Crumble crackers and fishsticks, that hurt!” Peter exclaimed as he tried to recover from his muscles seizing. He didn’t think he’d be able to haul the web back in with that thing going off every minute or so. Hmm, he thought, what can I do instead?

“Peter,” Karen’s voice spoke clearly through his mask, “Mr. Stark is calling.”

“Aw, beans.” Peter didn’t want to have to explain that he’d gotten into another battle that was probably something Mr. Stark wouldn’t want him in. Then again, it wasn’t like he was in a place where he could avoid the call. If he didn’t answer Tony would just send the call through anyway. “Put him through Karen.”

“Hey, Pete,” Tony’s voice crackled through the line, a little face popping up in the corner of Peters mask.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! How are you?” Peter tried to keep his voice unstrained and calm sounding.

“Oh so this is what we’re doing? I’m alright, fabulous as always. How are you Pete? Are you feeling especially forgetful today?”

So he was calling about forgetting lab day? Or that Peter had forgotten to lay low and call for help in a big battle? Better to play it safe. “I’m doing okay, one of those days where things keep going sideways, but I’m still moving along.” He let out a breathless sort of laugh. “Hey listen I’m sorry about lab day, I swear I didn’t forget, but something came up and I’m just running la-“ his voice cut off with a gasp as the electric bomb went off again.

“What was that?”

“Some malfunctioning electronics. Listen I’ll be there as soon I can, I’m really sorry Mr. Stark.”

“Where are you now? You want me to send Happy to pick you up?”

Peter groaned, his abused muscles struggling to keep the vehicles full of people still. He needed help. He bit back his instinct to try and handle things alone. It’d be fine. Tony wouldn’t even be that mad. Probably. Sigh. “Yeah, um, listen, about that. If you, i’m, aren’t busy, I could kind of use some help on the Queensboro bridge.”

“The Queensboro bridge? What are you doing on the bridge?” Tony’s voice got farther away and Peter realized he had probably turned away to look at something, as he said “FRIDAY, pull up any news about the Queensboro bridge.” Peter heard him release a breath. “Shit kid. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. I’m on my way.”

Peter heard Tony continue to talk, maybe reassurances, maybe complaints about Peter’s disregard for his own safety. He couldn’t really listen. All his attention stayed on not letting go of the people hanging off the bridge. The stupid electric bomb felt like it was going off more than every minute, even though it wasn’t, and Peter wasn’t even trying not to scream anymore. Tony’s voice came crackling through his mask again, and Peter wouldn’t have listened except for the importance of the words.

“I’m here. I need you to hold on just a bit longer, and I’ll get these people out, okay Underoos?”

“Okay,” Peter panted out. The electric bomb went off one more time before Tony came up and stopped it. The iron suit flew back over the edge after that and continued lifting out people. Peter estimated another four minutes had past when he heard the only other words important enough to break through his foggy brain.

“You can let go now kid, I’m right here. You can let go.” Tony’s voice no longer came through the mask, but from right behind him. Peter let go.

He groaned in relief and pain before promptly collapsing to the ground. Looking down he could see melted parts of his suit, and electrical burns over his body. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t all the way on the ground, and that Tony was holding his weight. Not Iron Man, just Tony, the suit standing empty a few feet away.

“You did good kid. You suck at staying close to the ground, but you did good. Let’s go get you checked up on, and if you feel up to it maybe we’ll do the fun pizza and movie part of lab day anyway.”

“Pizza sounds amazing,” Peter panted, trying to get his heavy feeling muscles to cooperate.

“Pizza it is! I’m proud of you kid.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark.” Even through the exhaustion and pain, Peter felt warmth spread through him. “Thanks Tony.”

Tony smiled, ever so slightly, helping Peter over to the suit, stepping in, snd then picking him up. “Anytime, kid. We still have to have a talk about when to ask for help though.”

“Aw, beans.”

[fancykraken]

MY BOY. FOR THE HEADCANON MEME.

*cracks knuckles* OKAY HERE YA BOY.

Send a character’s name to receive four different headcanons

Headcanon A:  realistic

Joining Charlie’s gang is the best thing that could have happened to him. First off it gave him these lifelong friendships and partners in crime, but I also like to think that it kinda saved him in terms of where he could have ended up at the time struggling with poverty and a father who just wasn’t there to provide for his family. Of course before Charlie and all that he was very ambitious and strong-willed, already desperate to prove himself better than his father and to take care of his mother and family, but with Charlie and that kind of life everything kind of clicked. Of course, most of it isn’t legal, but he has a brilliant mind and way of thinking that served the world he entered fantastically. Yes, he could have gone and done things that were perfectly legal and normal, but for the times I don’t think he would have succeeded as well as he did. 

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

As a child, he was a little spitfire and would 100000% go after anyone who pissed him off. This is exactly what happened with Charlie when he was beaten up for his lunch money, but I like to think that was always the case. And when he joined Charlie’s gang whenever there was conflict Meyer would just puff up and be like “I’m gonna cut this guy’s dick off” or something that made Charlie’s eyebrows rise to the top of his hairline. Charlie then had to sit him down and talk to him like ‘dude, no, chill’ and that’s how Meyer kinda transformed into this cool as a cucumber person on the outside but was no less deadly with his rage. He just figured out how to use it to his advantage and make it work for the situation.

I also like to think that at first, Charlie made Meyer wear one of those backpacks with the leash on it so that Charlie could literally reign Meyer back in whenever he was about to pounce and do something dumb. He’d threaten whoever the people he was in opposition with of something like “don’t make me let the Little Man off the leash.” Total crack, but I find it hilarious.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Getting married and 1929 with Charlie almost dying. He’s pressured into marriage by his family to a woman he doesn’t really love. It’s doomed from the start, really, which is sad for both parties. Anna definitely deserved better. So he’s trying to navigate this whole thing with being married while also being in this world of crime and of course, Charlie, his crime husband and more. 

Then Charlie is almost murdered and his hands are tied. He can’t really visit the hospital or be there for Charlie as much as he wants to be and it guts him. When Charlie is released from the hospital every spare moment is spent at Charlie’s suite at the Waldorf where he takes care of him and also the business side of things because it could all go down like a house of cards. So here he is juggling all these stressful af things. When the time comes that Charlie is well enough for them to be intimate again it kinda triggers something in Meyer, who is always strong and stoic and keeps his shit together, and he breaks. Charlie, who knows how much Meyer is doing for him and everything else, holds him and tells Meyer that he’s there to catch him as he lets the storm roll over him.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

When Charlie gets his dogs Meyer is reluctant at first to really be involved with them + get his own. When he’s gifted a Shih-tzu (by Charlie) it’s all over. That dog is like a child to him. This dog has the most regal and expensive bow/bow-tie and hat collection in New York and has collars with precious gemstones on them. Even Charlie is a bit taken aback by all this and whenever he brings the subject up Meyer will just quietly stare at him with that well-honed and perfected death glare. 

[c4pricornc4ts]

Where are Your Parents? - Sbi Au Chapter five

Also on my ao3 

 Read the other chapters here: [1]  [2]  [3]  [4]

----------

Tommy scrunches his nose in distaste. “I wouldn’t want to leave either of you ever!”

Techno laughs softly. “Wilbur would love to hear that he won’t have you disappearing like me when you're older.”

Tommy giggles as Wilbur fusses over his clothes. Techno finishes packing a small bag for his trip to the mountains past town. Tommy didn’t like him leaving so much, but he knew it was what Techno wanted to do. He knew Techno left the orphanage to be free to go wherever in life.

He also knew neither of them planned to live in a questionably stable shed with a 10 year old boy to look after but here he was. He always tried to stay positive, but he wasn’t oblivious to how his brothers feel.

Wilbur puts a cap over his messy blonde hair and Tommy smiles at how happy Wilbur looks.

“Remember what I said, Techno.” Wilbur warns.

Techno pretends to be nonchalant and fake yawns. “Yeah, yeah, Toms passes out. I bring him back. If he seems fine, I let him run around town so you get a break” He teases the younger boy.

Wilbur sighs, and steps back from straightening Tommy’s suspenders. “Alright, I’ll see you both soon.”

Tommy grabs a basket and waits for Techno by the path while the older two talk.

Techno readjusts his travel bag and they start walking towards town. Tommy walks ahead of him slightly, excited to finally be out of the woods.

“Slow down Toms c’mon. I know you miss town but it’s not going anywhere.”

Tommy slows down. “What? I thought you were excited to leave that forest too?”

“You know I am, and I know you are, but I’m leaving for a few days so we should talk.” He swings his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, having to lean down very far to reach the ten year old’s shoulders. “I always miss you, you know.”

“If you miss me so much, why don’t you stay intown? I’m sure someone would hire you.”

Tommy watches his brother look straight ahead. “Well, you know how Wil likes staying in the forest?”

“Yeah…”

“And you know how you like to be in town?”

Tommy nods, unsure where his brother was going with this. “Yeah?”

“Well I don’t like the forest or the town. I’m not happy with anything unless I’m free.” He smiles at Tommy. “I like knowing that no matter how far I go, you two will always be there when I’m back.”

Tommy scrunches his nose in distaste. “I wouldn’t want to leave either of you ever!”

Techno laughs softly. “Wilbur would love to hear that he won’t have you disappearing like me when you're older.”

They reach the town and Tommy takes a deep breath at the sight of people other than his brothers. He missed the crowded buildings and stone streets. Before he can go and find the man who will let him sell newspapers, he has to get Techno's seal of ‘I’m not gonna pass out’ approval.

“Well…?” The blonde questions.

“Well… I think you’re going to be fine today, just take it easy for Wil’s sake. And go tell Phil thanks for saving you.” He laughs and starts walking away.

Tommy always wondered how Techno was so sure on where he was headed. He didn’t have any kind of map that the boy could see, he just seemed to know. He hopes one day he could walk into uncertainty with the confidence of his brother. He knows they aren’t really related, but he can’t help but realize he’s adopted traits from both of them over time.

Wilbur taught him about being grateful for all the little things in life, to be happy with who he was becoming and keep pushing to be better. Techno helped him understand that the world was big, bigger than any problem, bigger than him and his brothers. That you’ll never be able to face the world till you start within yourself.

One thing he hadn’t picked up from them is their general distaste for talking to people outside of their family. Though his older brothers were both very interesting people, Tommy always hoped he’d never get their attitude towards others. He’d find it very boring if he didn’t interact with new people everyday.

He turns another corner and shakes hands with the man who owns the newspaper printer. He tries to suppress a sigh when he sees some of the ink from the man's stained hands was now on his.

“Jim, Guess who’s back?”

“Your brother finally let you out of home-jail huh? Took ya almost the full week he told me you’d be out for you to convince him.” The man teases.

“He was really worried, okay? I didn’t want to be home that long either!” He huffs and holds his arms out for Jim to put a stack of newspapers into.

“You know the routine, but in case you forgot; money by tomorrow.” He ruffles Tommy’s blonde hair until it's a mess.

He cringes thinking about what Wilbur would say if he saw someone mess up his hair. “I know, it’s been a week not a year. I’m almost 11 and I can remember everything now.” He puts the newspapers in his basket and walks to the door, opening it with his unoccupied hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tommy notices the sky has been slowly getting cloudier as he continues to sell newspapers down each street. Stopping to talk with many familiar faces and answering questions about where he’s been.

He’s tapped on the shoulder and turns around while taking a deep breath, prepared to talk about the news yet another time this morning.

He’s greeted with one of Tubbo’s older brothers, Sapnap. With his familiar headband holding back his dark hair like usual. “Sapnap! How are you?” “I’m better now that I know you’re still kicking. Dude, you scared us! Maybe give us a ring next time you get grounded or whatever.”

Tommy wasn’t sure he was allowed to tell people he didn’t have a house phone… or a house. So he just laughed it off. “Yeah, sorry. I fell and hurt my head pretty badly, Wilbur didn’t want me to pass out so I stayed home for a bit.”

“Never heard of someone’s brother grounding them but hey, first time for everything right?” Sapnap laughs and hands him a dime. “For the paper. I’m glad you're better, come visit soon yeah? Eret and Tubbo have been busy with some kind of castle in the backyard. I’m sure they’d like your opinions.”

“Tell them soon, I’ve got something to do this afternoon.” Tommy was going to go thank Phil like Techno recommended. He owes the bookstore owner that at least.

“Alright, I’ll go tell them you’re alive and you know where we’ll be. Just make sure to come after school. Or you’ll be stuck talking with my mom again.”

“I like talking with May, but noted.” Sapnap waves and starts to walk away, flipping through the newspaper as he walks.

Tommy starts heading to the other side of town where (hopefully) Phil would be working in the store and not closed for the day. He sells the rest of his newspapers on the way, which wasn’t surprising since he was handed so few.

The clouds were growing closer together, Tommy walked a little faster to try and beat the oncoming shower. He hoped it would just be a quick afternoon rain.

“Mr. Phil?” Tommy pokes his head into the book store and calls.

“Tommy? How are you doing? Come in before the rain.” He sets down the box of books and sits in a chair behind the desk. Tommy sets his basket on the counter before resting his chin on top of his folded arms.

“I feel better now, I came to say thank you for saving me. Techno wanted me to say thank you for him too!”

They both turn to smile at the new customer when they hear the jingle of the door opening before Phil continues the conversation. “What about Wilbur? How’s he?”

“Well I’m sure Wil’s thankful too, he’s probably just um- embarrassed? I think he’s too busy being upset that he wasn’t there for me…” Tommy lulls his head to one side and starts fiddling with his sleeve.

“He’ll come around I’m sure. He’s just worried about you like a brother should. I hope you told him thank you too.” Phil tries to cheer him up a bit by being the second person today to mess up his hair.

“I did! Well, sort of.” He looks at the box of unsorted books and quickly changes topics. “Can I help you sort those? Please?”

“Well I’m not going to pass up free help. Come over here and I’ll teach you how.”

The pair walk over to the shelf in the back corner and Tommy picks up a soft paper book. Then looking up at Phil for an explanation.

“They’re sorted by title in this section. What’s the book name?”

Tommy freezes, he almost regrets being such a devil about school that they stopped making him try. Because right now it’d be really helpful if he could read.

“I- uh- cah? Cah-la?”

Phil steps beside him and takes the book from him gently. “Call is that first word. Do you know the next one?”

It’s two letters long and Tommy still doesn’t know. “I-I don’t know how to.”

Phil pauses for a moment, Tommy wonders if he is realizing that maybe a kid who lives in the woods doesn’t go to school, and therefore does not thrive well in a bookstore.

“Th-that’s okay Toms, it’s okay. This book is titled ‘Call it Courage’” He reads it slowly, pointing to each word.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, we can turn this into a teaching experience. We’ll read the titles together and then you can sort them.” He hands the book back to the boy and they walk over to a shelf labeled ‘Kids non-fiction A-E’

Phil makes a space and Tommy reaches up to put it on the shelf.

They continue like that for a while, Phil occasionally going to ring up someone’s books or when they both stopped to have lunch.

Tommy is about to pick up another book, when someone with a large dog walks in. He wasn’t a big fan of dogs, and has had too many encounters with mean ones on the street to be comfortable with this situation. He hides behind Phil and grabs his arm.

“The dog is on a leash Tommy, it can't get you.” Phil tries to step away from his grip so they can put away the final few books.

Tommy looks up ready to try and ignore the dog but he immediately makes eye contact with the animal and buries his face in the adult’s arm. He really wishes bookstores had a no pets policy.

Phil detaches himself from Tommy, much to his dismay. “I’ll finish up here, do you want to start heading home before the rain?”

It was only 3pm, he didn’t want to be back in the woods so soon. “Can I go to your apartment and leave after the rain?”

“Sure, but leave the door open so we can listen for customers. I’ll come up there when the store is empty.”

Tommy nods, waits for the dog to be in the opposite corner of the stairs and books it to the red apartment door. Leaving the door open behind him felt strange, Wilbur would scold him when he left their door open at the orphanage.

He’s not a big fan of Phil’s interior design choices, but their house didn’t even have furniture. So really who was he to judge?

He sits on the plaid carpet and opens one of the coffee table drawers. Looking for a game. He pushes a pack of cigarettes aside and pulls out a checkerboard and a small bag of pieces.

After he figures out how to turn on the radio, he sets the boardgame up. Checkers was the only one he really knew how to play. Techno would try to teach him chess but he never could get all the rules right.

So they stuck to checkers. Before they left, whenever one of them was hesitant to talk about what was bothering them, they’d go downstairs and pull out an old checker board and talk while they played.

It always helped Tommy figure out what he needed to say if his hands were busy. When Techno started getting upset over school he’d watch Wilbur smuggle a card game up to the older kid’s rooms.

So he uses it now, he plays a few games of checkers to distract himself from the dog downstairs. He lays on his side and moves the black and red pieces around, flipping them when they reach the end.

The rain starts to pour in sheets. Tommy gets up off the rug to go look out the window. The bookstore overlooks the street where he can see the roads begin to flood with the heavy rain. He leans on the windowsill and watches it for a while, his nose fogging the window from where he has it boredly pressed against the glass.

He gets really worried when he starts to hear thunder. It was already 5pm. Phil would be closing the store in an hour. He really didn’t want to walk home in a thunderstorm.

He especially didn’t want to sleep in the woods in a thunderstorm. The roof always leaked, and it's already so cold that he knows all that water would turn to ice very quickly.

Deciding that walking back in this was something he had to do, he thought it was better to go through a storm than have Wilbur assume the worst and never let him in town alone again.

He drags his feet over to the board game left on the floor, and starts to put each of the pieces back in the bag. He pauses when he hears the stairs creak, turning around to greet Phil once again.

“The rain’s bad Toms, I don’t think you’ll be able to get back home yet.”

“I have to or Wilbur’s gonna be worried about me. I’d rather walk home in the rain than have him out in this looking for me.” He continues to put away the pieces and folds the board.

“I can’t let you out in this, you’re a kid, it's dangerous. If it let’s up later we’ll walk back together again.” He can tell by the tone Phil actually feels bad for not letting him leave. So Tommy pushes the table drawer closed and doesn’t argue.

Besides, sleeping in an actual house during a heavy storm sounded very nice. It might be worth the lecture he’d get from Wilbur when he returned in the morning.

Both of them were sitting on the couch, with the first book Tommy had picked up earlier, ‘Call it Courage’ and they are switching off who reads each paragraph. At first it was difficult stumbling over almost every word, but when he got to sit back and listen to Phil read his paragraph, he knew that being able to read on his own would be worth it.

The boy in the story was afraid of the sea because he saw his mom fall victim to it. Tommy thinks he’d be scared of the sea too if he saw it, especially since he knows it could swallow him whole. He thinks he’ll stick to the river.

They hear more thunder roll by and Phil closes the book as Tommy watches the lightning flash through the curtains. Tommy was nervous about how loud the wind sounded.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to light a candle while you cook? What if the power goes out- and you’re trying to see the pan in the dark? What then Phil?” He’s sitting at the kitchen table now, up on his knees with both hands lifting him up so he was leaning over it precariously.

“There’s a candle in that cabinet,” Phil stops what he’s cooking to point to the drawer closest to Tommy. “If you get me one i’ll light it and well keep it in the middle of the table yeah?”

He picks out one after smelling all of them twice, and by that time Phil is already done with the food. Tommy walks it over to the stove carefully since it’s glass and the bookstore owner trades him the candle for a bowl of soup.

They eat and talk about the story they were reading and the whole time the rain doesn’t let up once. The wind is so aggressive Tommy stops mid rant to worry about Wilbur alone out there.

Phil notices and carries both their bowls to the sink. Leaving them for morning before grabbing the candle and turning to Tommy. “I have a guest room, you can sleep there and leave first thing okay? I can’t let you have a candle because that’d be a fire hazard.” He pauses to laugh at his own joke. “I’ll open the curtains so you won’t need a candle. Streetlights are enough.”

Tommy nods, the storm really wasn’t letting up and it was getting late. Maybe Wilbur will assume he went to Tubbo’s house. He pours a glass of water and follows Phil through a door in the living room.

The room is small, much like the rest of the apartment and has a double bed in between two bedside tables. The wood floor is cold beneath him so while Phil fixes the curtains and sets down his water and climbs under the covers.

“See the door to your left? That’s the bathroom and through there is my room. The storm should be over soon but if you need me that’s where I am.”

“Goodnight.” He’s sitting up in the bed, holding the blanket close to him while he watches Phil turn out the lights.

“Goodnight Toms, I hope Wil’s okay out there.”

While Tommy sleeps, Wilbur doesn’t.

[peachyteabuck]

nothing ever lasts forever ~ act iii, “if we ruled the world”

summary: a sort-of non-avengers au where everyone has their powers and absolutely no one is in a highly powerful mob (or, at least, that’s what the feds think). 

or, a commission in three parts for anonymous, who asked for a series about wanda x natasha x reader.

pairing: wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader

words: 3,501

trigger warnings: switch!nat, sub!wanda, dom!reader, strap ons, degradation, bratty wanda, brat taming 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

READ ACT I, ACT II

Wanda gets the text that night, just as you’ve fallen asleep and Wanda was about to follow suit. Your light snores fill the room, Wanda listens for them as her too-bright phone screen burns her eyes.

Office. Tomorrow morning. 10.

And then a knife emoji. Sharp. Natasha Romanoff does not tolerate a lot of things, including tardiness.

Wanda goes to bed afraid and wakes up even worse – the churning in her gut only intensifying as she walked up the concrete path that lead into Natasha’s house. She’s never been more terrified in her life. Is she about to be fired? Are you dead? Is she dead? Is Wanda a ghost? Has Natasha been convincing Wanda that she’s been alive this whole time and now it’s time to break the façade and have Wanda move onto the ghost realm?

Being called into Natasha’s office and being asked to sit in the center chair is nothing short of demoralizing, intimidating. She’s seen it happen before, clients or employees Natasha has to deliver terrible news to – they never take it well, always crying and sobbing and wailing. They always have to be carried away by the guards stationed outside Natasha’s office and into their cars.

Will that have to happen to her? Will two giant-ass dudes have to carry her outside so she can have an emotional breakdown on the impeccably well-kept grass? What if someone sees her having said emotional breakdown on the impeccably well-kept grass? What if Wanda Maximoff gets caught by the many institutions of which she is running and hiding from?

The chair has a heavy dent in it from the other shameful citizens (and non-citizens, and those not defined as people) of whom have sat in the chair before her. Natasha doesn’t meet Wanda’s gaze, keeping her eyes focused on the bare desk in front of her.

Both of them can barely breathe, each having an equally silent crisis. Neither speaks until the door has been long shut, the sounds outside the room blocked out by the heavy doors.

“I once had sex with your girlfriend,” Natasha says, so quick the words mesh into one.

Wanda shakes her head, running her hands through her hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Natasha exhales deeply, clenching her eyes shut before speaking again. “I had sex with your girlfriend.”

Wanda eyes go wide with sadness – worried her worst nightmare is true. “She…you…she chea-“

Natasha holds out her hands, only now realizing her mistake in phrasing. “NO! No! Absolutely not. No, that’s not what happened. That’s not…No, Wanda, she didn’t cheat on you with me, that’s not what I’m saying.”

Wanda – still wringing her hands – breathes deeply. “Then what…what…”

Natasha sighs, trying to find the right words. “Do you remember when Bucky got hurt? Like, when his arm got,” she wiggles the same arm Bucky lost in the accident – the one Natasha inadvertently caused.

Wanda looks confused but answers anyway. “Yeah, like a year ago.”

“I got, I got super drunk that night. And it was, uh, the woman is now your girlfriend, she uh…she helped me that night – she uh, she got me back to her apartment. Made sure I slept and didn’t die choking on my own vomit. And took care of me the next morning…” Natasha sighs, worried about what she’s going to say. “The next morning, we had sex.” Natasha whispers the last sentence sadly, wringing her hands. “We haven’t talked since.”

Wanda, stunned, says nothing. Each time she believes she’s found the words they fail to capture the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts flashing in front of her eyes. Blood pounds in her ears and her hands shake and her heart pounds – nevertheless, the two of them continue to converse even as Wanda’s eyes water. Everything’s a blur – the only clarity when Wanda thumps her way up the several flight of stairs that lead into her, your apartment.

She opens the door hastily, hands shaking near-violently as she finds the right key and turns it in the lock. If this were any other day, she’d step in as quietly as possible – try to be a voyeur in her own home to try and catch even a second of you cooking peacefully. You’re in one of her shirts, a large one that hits your thighs and rides up when you bent down or stand on your tip-toes or bend forward over a pot.

Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious, enough to distract from the matter at hand – to stop Wanda in her tracks as thick spices and hearty herbs fills her nostrils.

Still, it only allows her a few seconds of peace before she’s stepping into the kitchen, fists clenched at her sides and breathing quick and shallow. The wrath, the dread, it blinds and deafens her – the only thing Wanda hears being the only words she could hope would leave your lips.  

“I mean, I know what you did, what you do. You’ve told me enough I just…” you sigh. “I had no idea. I like, sort of knew what Nat did. I just didn’t have any idea that you two knew each other. Or that she, uh, was your boss.”

Wanda looks as if she’s about to cry, her chest heaving. “Are you sure?”

You nod, moving toward her but not touching her. “Wanda, I’d tell you if I fucked your boss the second I would’ve found out – but, babe,” you try to calm your beating heart by digging your nails into your palms. It doesn’t work. “Even if I knew, you have to understand. This was over a year ago, I haven’t seen her since, and I love you. We’ve built a home together. Me having sex with her doesn’t change that.”

There’s silence, then, the thick kind that comes from a fight without resolve. You’re worried she’ll storm out, only to return when she decides – or, worse, tell you to pack your things and leave. Wanda does neither of those things, though, instead silently moving to the stir the pot before tasting at the wooden spoon.

You know everything will be fine when she makes a comment about needing more salt – the special kind you bought a long while ago from the farmer’s market that somehow hadn’t run out. Your mother once told you that the kitchen could end all disagreements, all squabbles and verbal throwdowns. You never really believed you until now, as you both silently cook, and then eat, and then clean up together.

Not a word is exchanged until you’re both in bed, you curled around her on your side as she lays flat on her back. It’s then, after the sun has long set and the last scents of food had gone up though the vents, that one of you speaks.

Wanda swallows, mumbling something that, whether or not is her intention, only she can hear. “Natasha says she wants to see you.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowed as you pick up your head to look at her. “What?”

Wanda doesn’t meet your gaze as she speaks. “I talked to Natasha this morning about it. About you. That’s why, uh. I came home like that. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just…wanted to talk about it…”

You nudge closer to her as she trails off, trying to reassure her. “It’s okay, babe, you don’t have…I trust you. It’s okay.”

Wanda nods before continuing. “She and I were talking, and she asked to see you after. Wanted my permission, though. Wanted to make sure I was okay with it.”

“Are you?” you whisper as your heart rate picks back up – though, this time, for a much different reason.urus

She nods. “I mean, I’m not some overprotective Dad on prom night – I’m never gonna stop you from seeing someone. Told her it was up to you.”

You exhale deeply, still silent. It takes a long while for you to say anything, and even then it doesn’t do much to dissolve the thick tension in the room. “I do want to see her again,” Wanda clears her throat but you continue speaking before she can begin. “But I want you there, too.”

That’s how, two weeks later, you find yourself intoxicated in a way you can’t describe, standing next to your bed as both women kneel before you.

You’re not drunk. Drunk is too extreme. Drunk makes you seem rash, impulsive – like you don’t know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it. Makes it seems like you don’t want to remember this, want to be able to blame all

You’re not drunk, you’re bold. You’re two sips into some old-as-balls bourbon you got when you graduated college – gifted to you by a professor who thought it meant he’d let you get into his pants. Fool. You’re a woman with fire resting on your skin and the world teetering at your fingertips.  You control everything. And today, “everything” is defined as two of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen on their knees in front you.

It’s natural, wonderful – the feeling of looking down at them with their big eyes and hair pulled back into French braids and dark collars on their milky skin. Neither of them has leashes – yet…but judging by the glint in Natasha’s eyes and the smirk playing at her lips that you’ll need to get it from its resting place on her desk very soon.

“I think this is the stuff dreams are made of,” you say to no one and both of them. “Two sluts at my feet for me to use. Two perfect little toys at my disposable. I wonder what I should have you do first…”

At the foot of the best is a loveseat, draped upon the loveseat is a towel covered in sex toys – placed carefully with even amounts of space between them. A few empty spots mark where toys used to be – most notably the collars and the baby pink butt plug Wanda’s wearing.

It’s the double-ended dildo that ends up catching your eye. It’s half baby blue and half black, mixing in the middle; thick, long, girthy. Wanda bought it for you awhile back – a gift after she had to leave for a last-minute business trip with little explanation but a lot of apology. You didn’t mind, her explanation for her job had been quite believable and you did not worry. Still, you didn’t refuse the gifts she showered you with when she got back eight days later.

You smile at the memory, but also from the anticipation. You turn back to the two women on the floor, snapping in each of their faces before pointing to opposite walls. Despite this, they wait for your verbal command before moving a muscle.

Such good girls, the both of them.

“Now,” you tell them calmly. Obediently and without hesitation, they do as they’re told. It’s then that you can admire their matching lingerie sets. They were expensive (you hesitate to spend that much on rent, let alone four pieces of skimpy, see-through fabric), you can’t deny it. But the crotchless panties, framing each of their wet pussies perfectly? The matching bras are just as frilly as the panties and the deep maroon contrasts both of their pale skin tones.  Intricate lace is almost, almost distracting from their pert nipples and skin you want to bite and bruise and mark. “Face opposite walls so I can watch you fuck yourself properly.”

They’re both so beautiful, so desperate. Through the chorus of their moans and whimpers you can hear their wet cunts fucking back on the thick double-ended dildo.

Wanda, as usual, is already making those noises that mean she’s about to come – her hips making tighter movements and wide eyes screwed shut.

“Aw, does my baby wanna come?” you coo, moving the sweaty hair away from her reddened face.

Wanda whines high in her throat, fucking back on the dildo with vigor. “Yes, yes yes please lemme come I wanna come Mommy please!”

Natasha, the quieter of the two, nods furiously as her face scrunches up in concentration. Her moans are low and breathy, hips driving backwards in target hits against Wanda.

Part of you wants to deny them, watch them with cry and choke on their own tears as they focus on following orders, on being good, on not coming. Another part of you wants to watch them fall apart, watch their thighs shake and legs give out and blissful faces find their way long their faces and listen to them moan and cry and thank you with hushed, raspy voices.

It doesn’t take much deliberating for the latter side of you to win out – to give them permission and instruct them to rub their clits as you take another sip of alcohol. Small sparks dance along Wanda’s fingers as they move over her pussy, control over her powers ceding to that over her pleasure. Some of the small swirls of red-orange-yellow-blue seem to dance between their bodies, affecting Natasha as well, who cries out an especially pained noise as each spark touches and subsequently dissipates against her skin. The thrusts of their hips become even more erratic as the waves of their orgasms come crashing down on them, their breathing only steadying as you began to speak once more.

“Natasha,” you snap once in her direction, waiting for her body to jerk as a signal she’s paying attention. “Get atop Wanda…” you pause, then laugh. “I mean, straddle her to keep her hips pined to the ground.”

Wanda, normally incredibly mousy, seems to be drinking from the same fire-filled cup you’ve been sipping.

“Yeah, as if Natasha could top anybody,” she snorts. You and Natasha both snap your heads towards her, yours crooking to the side.

“You want to say that again?” you more command than ask.

Wanda, voice back to usual smallness, swallows loudly. “Uh, I, uh. I said. I said Natasha,” she coughs, tries to save herself. It doesn’t work. “I said, ‘as if Natasha could dom anybody,’ Mommy.”

Silence – a heavy one – falls over the room. You turn around, slowly, meeting Wanda’s eyes first and then Natasha’s. The latter woman looks to you for permission.

With one, small nod, she stands and looms over the other woman.

“You’re going to regret that,” you say – mostly to yourself. The wicked smile, though, is for the both of them.

“Do you want to test me?” Natasha hisses. She loops her forefinger in the stainless-steel O-ring and jerks Wanda forward so their lips are barely touching. Wanda takes it as an invitation, but pouts as Natasha pulls away. “You think you’re getting anything but a punishment after what you pulled?”

Wanda’s large eyes drain of mischief with every passing second that she studies the woman in front of her – realizing her mistake. It’s not long until she’s looking at her for assistance from you, her pleading eyes and cat-like features so cute you almost give in to her silent prayers.

Keyword: almost.

“Answer your Daddy,” you say plainly. You press your thighs together, desperate for friction but not wanting to give in just yet.

“N-no,” Wanda stutters. “No, Daddy.”

Natasha pulls at Wanda’s collar once more, hissing through her teeth. “I’ll give you one more chance to correct yourself.”

You can practically hear Wanda’s petrified gulp and you relish the fear in her wide eyes. “No, Daddy. I understand I deserve a punishment.”

“Good,” she says, letting the collar go. “now go lay on the bed.”

Wanda does as she’s told – resting her head in your lap. It gives you the perfect view of her face as she prepares to get fucked out of her mind.

Natasha grabs the fake cock and harness from the toy collection and pulls it on easily, the jingling of the individual straps like music to her hears. You pet at her hair, cupping her chin and cooing down at her.

“You gonna be a good girl for Daddy?” you ask.

She nods, lip pulled between her teeth. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Are you gonna be a dirty slut for Daddy while Mommy watches?”

“Yes Mommy.”

Natasha’s ready, then, and announces it by backing up against a wall with the fake cock bobbing against her stomach. “Good girl, now come prep Daddy’s cock.”

Wanda moves to stand, but immediately drops to her knees when Natasha glares at her and hisses, “Don’t you dare.”

She crawls across the room, head hung in shame and pussy soaked with anticipation. Wanda only looks up to wrap her lips around the silicon head, one of Natasha’s hands cradling the back of her neck with the other tangled in her hair. “I’m going to have so much fun with you,” you hear Natasha mumble as Wanda gags for the first time. “Can’t wait to make you come over and over, watch you not know whether to beg me to stop or keeping going. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Wanda nods, never breaking eye contact with Natasha.  

“You better not be touching yourself, you needy little thing,” you tsk from across the room as your fingers rub at your own clit. “Dirty sluts don’t get to come, do they.”

Wanda does her best to shake her head as Natasha continues to fuck her throat.

Sloppy, wet sounds punctuate Natasha’s words. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl? You like taking this big cock down your throat like this?”

Before Wanda can nod, Natasha’s pulling her head away suddenly, the woman on the floor gasping for air. She barely has time to catch her breath before Natasha’s picking her up and slamming her back against the wall, Wanda’s legs instinctively wrapping around Natasha’s waist.

Wanda moans, loud and unabashed, as Natasha fucks into her. You grab an unused vibrator from the end of the bed and begin to fuck yourself with it, the thrusts of the toy timed with Natasha’s. It’s good – it’s all so good – and your vision begins to cloud around the edges as you and Wanda both come together one, two times.

You’re breathing heavy when Natasha decides Wanda’s had enough, laughing as Wanda’s eyes remain unfocused and her breath comes out in pants.

“Pathetic,” Natasha mumbles just loud enough for you to hear. She lets go of Wanda’s hips, the woman collapsing onto the floor with weak knees. Still, that harsh exterior melts away as Wanda lays there, motionless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Natasha crouches down, then sits next to her, face softening. “Aw,” she coos, pulling Wanda into her so that she’s sitting on Natasha’s lap on the floor. “Such a good little girl for me. For us.”

Natasha rocks Wanda back and forth, giving her the occasional kiss to her temple or cheek or wherever else she can reach. You watch them for a minute or two, watch your two favorite people in the whole world mold themselves to each other, oblivious to whatever happened to go on around them. Eventually you go to the bathroom to dampen a cloth with warm water and get a glass of water (or, in this case, a mug you’d been meaning to take back to the kitchen for about a week. It only held water before, anyway, so you don’t feel that bad when you give it to Natasha to hold for your exhausted girlfriend to drink out of).

Wanda whimpers when you wipe down her pussy, flinching away and trapping your hand between her thighs. Before you can comfort her, though, Natasha does.

“Shh libchen,” she coos into her sweaty hairline. “Let Daddy care for you alright?”

Wanda makes a noise high in her throat to signal how much she really doesn’t want the terry cloth against her center, but nonetheless allows Natasha to hold her thighs open as you clean her up. It’s awhile before Wanda full returns to reality – awhile before her breathing goes back to normal, her pupils becoming smaller, her legs not shaking.

“You wanna go to bed or get something to eat?” you ask.

Wanda doesn’t respond, but her droopy eyes and limp body answer the question for you.

“Let’s put her to bed and order food in few hours,” you tell Natasha. “The diner down the street is 24-hour, menu’s on the fridge. One of us can call later.”

Natasha whispers an “okay,” careful not to wake Wanda. She lifts the sleeping woman into the bed you share with her, watching her for a moment before beckoning you over. You oblige, because of course you do. Noiselessly, you and Natasha lay on either side of Wanda, your hands touching ever so lightly as fatigue acts as a fire blanket – putting the previous actions of the night to rest.

You all fall asleep like that, sweaty limbs tangled and chests heaving in sync. In truth, you never could’ve asked for anything better – this, being with the both of them, is bliss. Hopefully, you never have to be without either of them ever again.

[thisentertaining]

As the Blue Spirit Howls - Chapter 3

STORY SUMMARY:

Zuko was not a good shifter.

Azula could switch between her wolf and human skins between steps. Not Zuko, he needed several minutes before he even started the shift, and that was on a good day. If it had been Azula who Animal Control found in that alley, they would have walked away convinced that their eyes had played a trick on them. There had never been a dog there.

But Zuko’s long transformation would have only revealed his kind to the world. Father may think he has no honor, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as that. Even if that meant being dumped in animal shelter, trapped as much by the 24/7 security cameras as by the cage bars.

He had the worst luck. -

“Come on guys!” Aang said as he lead his friends through the clamoring barks of the shelter. “I want to show you my favorite dog! He’s a sweetheart.”

Aang lead the pair to where a monstrous beast of a dog was growling with raspy barks loud enough to drown out the rest of the shelter. His bright white teeth contrasted against golden eyes and a bright red scar that stretched over the side of his face as he lunged against the cage door.

Sokka laughed nervously. “Did the word ‘sweetheart’ change meaning when I wasn’t looking?”

Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Read on Ao3 

“He’s actually being a pretty good dog.” Katara said as Zuko paused to sniff on a bush right outside the door. Her leash was lightly looped around her wrist, as was Aang’s. The other boy had a death grip on the ugly nylon.

“Maybe hold that judgement after we’ve been walking him more than five seconds, sis.”

The girl scowled at her brother. “You know what I mean! When we say him going crazy in there, I didn’t think he would ever calm down. Especially not this quickly.”

“He’s really a good boy!” Aang said. “Once he calms down at least. He’s just kinda... spirited at first, but look how happy he is to be outside! Now he’s all wags, no growls.”

Zuko flicked an ear and took a longer sniff at the bush. As the first plant directly outside the shelter, it was covered in… messages from other dogs. Fairly typical. Mostly healthy, some fear or aggression but not much. It was a pretty good shelter. You know, assuming you were actually a dog. He wasn’t enjoying his time.

The good thing was, he now had plenty of examples of 'good-dog' behavior to copy. He thought back on what made a 'good dog' that would convince them to take him home. First of all, he couldn’t actually escape. Not pulling on the leash at all would be suspicious (not to mention a test of self-restraint that Zuko knew he could never pass) but he had to make sure not to pull so far that he was actually at risk of escaping.

Second, he had to put away any lingering pride he’d managed to retain. Dogs were… silly. Foolish. They played games and begged for attention and touch and made messes. He hadn’t acted like that since he was a child with his mother. If he’d even done it then. He doubted it though, Father would have disapproved.

He eyed one of the other dogs as they were bundled into the car of a little girl with large, poofy pigtails. The English Bull Terrier pup wiggled happily in her lap as he went on to his forever home, licking the giggling child’s face. Zuko sighed impatiently as the children holding onto his multiple leashes continued to talk instead of actually walk him anywhere. He couldn't act like that. This was going to be impossible.

A new car pulled up as the girl with the bull terrier left. This one was fancy, new, and streamlined. It was the kind of money that almost never darkened the halls of a shelter. Despite himself, Zuko watched with interest, curious at who it was. When the door opened and a familiar scent wafted out, he felt a growl start rumbling at the base of his throat, going steady at the sight of the familiar girl exiting the luxury car.

The teen’s behind him stopped their chatter, Aang kneeling beside him hesitantly and running a soothing hand down his back. “Hey bud, you okay?” He pet Zuko with steady, careful strokes that would have calmed any actual dog quickly, but the beast’s steady growl didn’t falter. “It’s okay boy, you’re okay. You’re okay. Guys do you-“

“What are you doing with Snarly?” A young, feminine voice demanded.

Aang looked up, seeing a short unfamiliar girl in green overalls and a matching headband standing over them. Despite being several inches shorter than the rest of them, she seemed to tower as she crossed her arms and scowled.

“Snarly? Do you mean Blue Spirit?”

The girl scoffed. “That’s a stupid name. Naming a dog after a bar? Can you say ‘lacking imagination’?”

Behind Zuko, Sokka hummed. “Snarly does kinda fit him better.” The boy mused, ruffling the top of his head. The dog snapped at the hand. Nowhere close, but enough that the teen jerked his hand back.

Well. Being a good dog was going great.

“Exactly.” The girl said with a grin as she reached out and pet his head just as Sokka had. The boy made a noise in warning, but for her Zuko simply turned to that his unscarred side was by her searching fingers. “That’s why he’s my favorite. I can always tell where he is.”

The Avatar and his friends shared a confused glance at that comment before realizing as one that the girl hadn’t looked at them once through the whole conversation. Filmy-white eyes stared over their heads as the girl tucked the previously-unnoticed cane under her arm and knelt to pet Zuko with both hands. “Don’t tell him though.” The girl continued with a wicked grin. “Don’t want him getting a big head.”

Zuko barked in protest, never once halting his continuous rumbling growl.

Aang perked. “Does that mean you’re here to adopt him?”

The girl, Zuko had never gotten her name, frowned with a heavy sign. “No. My parents won’t let me. They’re worried that getting another dog would distract Badger-Mole.”

“Right, right.” Sokka said, “And that is a…”

“He’s my seeing eye dog. And it’s stupid because tons of people with guide dogs have pets too. I even asked the trainers, and they said it’s perfectly fine. He’s trained to work with distractions. But no.” She drug out the word sarcastically. “My parents know better than the professionals.”

“That stinks.” Katara said genuinely.

“Yeah. But whatever. Apparently, he was adopted anyway. Sorry I yelled at you, I know they said that it would be hard to find him an owner so I overreacted. Probably not a great way to convince people to keep a dog.”

“Probably not.” The Avatar laughed. “But it’s okay. We aren’t adopting him though, just fostering so that he can be in a home until someone does come to adopt.”

“We are talking about foster- you know what, I give up.” The eldest boy sighed. “I know we’re getting the dog.”  

The girl scrunched her nose before eventually shrugging. “Fine, as long as he’s out of Long Feng’s grubby hands. That dude gives me the creeps.”

Zuko barked in soft agreement as the other kids laughed.

“Name’s Toph.” The girl introduced herself, sticking a hand out nowhere near the other three.

Katara moved to take and shake the hand. “My name is Sapphire.” She lied. Zuko’s ears perked, recognizing that the name was very different from the one that the others had used for her earlier. If he was to complete his mission, learning their false names could only help.

“Wang,” Sokka added with a useless wave. Zuko committed the false name to memory.  

Aang jumped to his feet to shake her hand. “I’m Kuzon. It’s great to meet you. We’re going to take Spirit-“

“Snarly.”

“For a walk if you want to come with.”

The girl’s head cocked to the side, as though listening to something. After a moment, she simply shrugged. “Why not?”

From behind them, a loud clearing of the throat sounded from the front of the car, where a driver glared at them from behind a window. Toph sighed explosively. “Give me a second, I have to go check in before my busy body parents call the shelter.”

She stomped her way into the building, cane swinging wildly as she grumbled.

The group watched her, Aang’s hands still running down Zuko’s back as the growling petered out. “Awww,” Aang cooed. “Such a good boy.”

“That’s really impressive though.” Katara cut in. “He realized that she was blind and made sure that she could hear him. He must be really smart.”

Sokka made a disagreeing noise. “He probably just realized that she was happy when he was growling, gave him extra treats or pats or whatever and accidentally trained him to growl. Dogs can be taught to do anything these days.”

Zuko was offended. As he wasn't an actual dog, he wasn’t sure he should be.

“It’s still smart.” Katara argued with the passion of a sibling arguing against another. “He’s only been here a week or so and already trained himself to do that? That’s really smart for a dog.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. He’s a dog, he was trained to do a trick. Congratulations, you and Pavlov can compare notes.”

Aang glanced between the pair nervously. “Calm down, we don’t-“

Katara wasn’t listening. Zuko was just hoping that she wouldn’t have the same resources his sister had when angry to sit on. “You are such a-“

“Fight! Fight! Fight Fight! “ Toph chanted as she made her way to the group. She had a leash coiled in her hands, and when Zuko started growling again she managed to find his collar and attach it with little fumbling.

The other teens scrambled to explain their argument, but Zuko was getting tired of waiting. With a loud bark, the wolf started towards one of the walking trails, dragging Sokka, who had somehow wrapped the leash around his wrist enough that his was significantly shorter than the others. The boy yelped.

“Well, guess we’re going.”

“Sorry buddy.” Aang laughed. Zuko flicked an ear towards him but otherwise ignored the apology. He stuck to the cement path running through an open field rather than the wooded paths that called to his wolf blood. It wasn’t because that would be easiest for Toph. Really. He’d barely even noticed that. Really. He just thought that if the path was easier they would talk more and he would get more information out of them.

Really.

That was it.

“So, if you can’t get another dog, why are you at the shelter?” Sokka asked the stranger.

“Volunteering.” The girl answered, “Duh. I’m homeschooled and I was going absolutely insane sitting at home every day. I was sneaking out but,” She shrugged. “I knew eventually that they would realize that those pillows under my blankets weren’t breathing. I threatened to run away for real if they didn’t find a way to let me out of the house sometimes, and so.” She shrugged. “A compromise. For now.”

“That’s cool.” Aang said sunnily. “This is a great shelter, I come here every Tuesday and Thursday to volunteer too! I’m kinda surprised that we hadn’t seen each other before, but I’m usually here a lot earlier.”

That was good information. Wait. Was it though? If Zuko revealed himself or ‘ran away’, he probably wouldn’t come back. But it did mean it was a time that he was alone and out of their house fairly consistently. If Zuko could arrange for someone to go after him at the right time…

He really wished he had anyone he could trust to do that without taking the glory for themselves and leaving him out to dry.

Okay, so that wouldn’t work. But it still would be a good thing to know. This wasn’t going well. He wasn’t getting any good information on his actual targets and- rabbit!

Zuko stood stock still, nostrils flaring as he followed them to see a fluffy furry brown ball chewing at a clump of clover in the corner of the path. He ceased the low rumbling he’s been admitting since Toph joined, going stock still as he crouched into a predatory stance. Ear’s up, head close to the ground, feet carefully placed, Zuko slowly stalked forward towards the entirely unaware prey creature.

A predatory wolf’s blood was running through his veins, begging for the chase and hunt that he had been denied for the weeks he’d spent in a form born in it. He licked his chops, ignoring the babbling distractions behind him as the predator centered on prey.

“Hey!” Aang suddenly yelled behind him with a laugh. “Run Bunny, Run!”

Startled, the rabbit took off. With a growl, Zuko lunged after it, jumping forward on strong, muscular legs. There were a myriad of cried behind him as the group was sent sprawling by the force of his leap, but as the shelter administer had said, he couldn’t exactly drag four people across the yard. Well, he could. He was strong enough. He just wouldn’t be fast enough to catch the rabbit so what was the point?

He stopped after a few steps and whined as the rabbit disappeared into the woods.

Toph, miraculously the only one to keep her footing, laughed uproariously. “Why did you think it was a good idea to make the rabbit run, idiot?”

“Oops.” Aang mumbled from his place on the ground.

Sokka spit out a mouthful of grass. “Well. Are you ready to sign some papers? This seems like a great idea.”

[animemeg27]

I feel like I complain a lot about work on twitter so I’ma rant here for a change so I’m not so negative in one space, but honestly depending on how my work’s new owners deal with this situation, I’m genuinely considering looking for a new job next month..

I was just on the phone with one of the new owners and I actually broke down crying a bit...

lemme explain the situation

It’s a friday, it’s lunch time, it’s hot out, that morning a fight broke out between dogs because dog A wants to fence fight with dog B whenever he walks by, dog B is chill but will defend himself so he fence fights back. Dog C is in the same yard as Dog A and because dog A is reacting aggressively, dog C wants to join in and the only dog he can get to is dog A. All 3 dogs are of large strong breeds so obviously sometimes they can be a handful if they get out of control. Asshole coworker is in the yard with the fighting dogs and luckily had them on leash so he had them both at arms length and dragged them away from the fence. Doggy Day Kamp manager in my yard with dog B goes over to Asshole’s yard to help keep them two apart as the Asshole’s hand got bit and is bleeding. The dogs are never put away, but are kept on leash until they’re calm enough the Asshole finally goes to wash his hand. The Manager keeps the leash on the instigator, dog A, and soon the dogs in that yard are moved away into the backyard so they don’t see dog B and start another fight.

I personally don’t know why the hell dogs A and B were in yards next to each other when I’m pretty sure it was established awhile ago that dog A hates dog B. But the Asshole has a superiority/dog trainer complex when he is neither of those things so I wouldn’t put it past him if it was his idea.

Couple hours later Assistant manager comes in for her shift and hears about the fight. She tells the Asshole “hey next time put the dogs away when they fight so they can calm down” cuz ya know, that’s standard protocol. It’s dangerous to have em still out because the aggressive energy can build up again with other reactive dogs still in the yard that could still be anxious from the fight that just happened. A fight broke out literally a week prior and SHE had her hand bitten and that same dog C was involved and he was put away. That time all dogs were going after one in the yard and many of the dogs were ok in doing so because dog C was in on it and riling everyone up. Ya know what the asshole says? “that’s not gonna do anything they’re not children putting them in time out won’t teach them anything” completely ignoring her who’s been here at least as long as I have aka 7 years while he’s hardly been here more than half a year. Like um they ain’t human either they’re dogs aka animals so they can be kind of unpredictable when they are in such a reactive state. The assistant manager is just as sick of him as I am and scoffs but doesn’t have the energy to argue. The asshole had really been pissing her off lately by kind of bossing her around out of nowhere when the manager had been on vacation earlier in the month.

few hours later it’s lunch time, and this is where shit goes down... kinda literally. Asshole leaves for lunch. Or so I thought. We were in the same yard and he left through one of the side pens, but he found a missed pile of dog poop in there so he decides to pick it up himself. Ok whatever. He leaves the gate open a bit and a little dog slips through. he picks him up and puts him back in the main yard, I come over and close the gate over so he can hurry and pick up the poop and head to lunch. He tells me to leave it open because the dogs won’t learn anything if I close it. like dude it’s just poop, so I kept the gate shut. granted I didn’t say anything, but my logic was who the hell wants to spend and extra 5-10 minutes dealing with dogs trying to slip through a gate depending on which dogs come over just to pick up poop instead of wanting to head to lunch as soon as possible. So he says something along the lines of “what is wrong with you” or “what is your problem” to which I simply responded with “Just go to lunch, I’ll take care of it.” My patience with him was thin already but at this point it was just gone. This asshole is so obsessed with teaching dogs in general but also not to slip through gates that he always get so angry, or at least really annoyed and pissed off at me whenever I try to help holding dogs back, like I was taught to do, especially ones that are more difficult - ones that are strong or speedy and don’t sit still and take every opportunity to slip through the gate. like it’s understandable to try and teach them, but it can be a long process, especially with the more difficult ones. No one really has time for that when we’re busy or need to be someplace. In the end he just picked up the poop while I had the gate shut. When he left for lunch for real he said “I’d suggest you don’t get on my bad side” to which all I had to say to him was “really?????” like he hadn’t been on my bad side for at least the past 6 months. I can’t remember if he mumbled something under his breath but my last words to him as he left were “you’re not the manager”

now up until this point, I didn’t realize my heart was racing. like  “I’d suggest you don’t get on my bad side” like what the fuck is that supposed to mean???? Honestly he’s got such a shit personality I wouldn’t put it past him to actually do something threatening. So I put in a request from July onward to never work with him ever again. I never mentioned anything that happened because I had actually grown nervous of having him confronted and I wanted to wait for things to theoretically cool down before I said anything. I wrote a solid list of 10 reasons why I can’t stand him anymore if I was ever asked about my request in preparation.

Unknown to me at the time, the Assistant manager who had been in the next yard over had heard the threat he said to me and confronted him with one of the new owners about it and he actually got a serious scolding. So a couple days later when my request was received and the Kennel manager wanted to talk to me, I was surprised to learn they already knew the story and wanted to confirm that that was why I had made such a request as the kennel manager knew I’d never do something like that unless it was serious. We talked a bit and the owner that had scolded the ass was there and was reassuring me that they were on my side and even THEY didn’t really like him and there was talk of potentially firing him and the owner asked if I wanted an apology and I said “sure” but I doubt it would ever be serious or genuine and it’s not like I’d forgive him or be ok working with him again.

I was hoping he’d be fired, but unfortunately we’re only hiring teenagers with no work experience atm instead of people who know what they’re doing in the kennels or around dogs so if he were to be let go it’d be a while before he can be officially replaced. And the owners have made it clear as much as they don’t like him or his methods, there is a sense of a little more control in the day kamp yards. Anyway, because people’s shifts are all over the place it’s difficult to properly set aside a time to really discuss things. They’re trying their best to “knock him down a peg or two” to get him to better respect his coworkers and what not. I dunno how that’s going cuz I do my best to not engage with him and be in a separate yard as much as possible.

Anyway, it’s been like a week, it’s the last week of the scheduled month, next months schedule will be coming out in a day or so, and the other new owner called me to talk about how we’re gonna deal with next month. On monday we briefly talked... while the asshole was still in the other yard?? about the situation and whether or not I was comfortable talking with him to work things out so there’s no miscommunication because the assistant manager and the ass were I guess able to work something out. Whether or not he actually listens to her from now on would be interesting to see, but I’m standing my ground on the fact that I’m putting up with him for the last assigned week of the month, then I want nothing to do with him ever again. I gave a quick “no” to talking with him. The new owner said we can continue the talk about the situation the next day. Yesterday rolls around and obviously we’re busy and there’s no time for that.

So today the new owner called. Reiterating how much of an asset I am up in day kamp, and how much they still need the asshole, and if there’s any chance I might still work up there and talk it out with him. This is were I start tearing up and choking up. I told her “it’s just been slowly building up over the past several months and that was the last straw” and “sorry, no”. She reassured me she didn’t want to make me uncomfortable or upset or force me to do something I didn’t feel comfortable doing, and understood the ass was, well, an ass to me and had no respect for me or my other coworkers. She revealed that apparently the ass interpreted me holding the gate closed was an “act of disrespect” towards him when she understood that was ridiculous as she knew closing a gate so dogs don’t escape is what you’re supposed to do. as if and “act of disrespect” gives him the right to casually threaten someone. Like I don’t even care if he was having a bad day getting his hand bitten, you’re bringing that bs on yourself. She said he wants to apologize and I dunno how true that actually is or if he’s just been guilted into it, but again I said an apology would be nice but it won’t change the way I feel about him. Anyway she said she’d like to talk to me again tomorrow when I’m in work cuz I forgot to mention I had off today and that’s why I received a call, cuz by that time I’ve got tears and snot running down my face like a fool lol I’m glad it wasn’t in person.

But also I never told my parents about this and my work doesn’t have my cell number only my home number so it was my dad who answered and handed me the phone and I talked to the owner in my room so no one would hear. But with my face as it was it was clear I’d been crying, but I hadn’t scrubbed my face or gotten dressed yet so I took that as the perfect excuse to hide my red eyes before returning the phone downstairs and taking my own dog for a walk.

But yeah they really want me in day kamp. And I really don’t wanna work with the ass. and the ass only works in day kamp. There was a time where I actually almost prefered day kamp to kennel work, but since the ass was hired that’s quickly reversed. I want to be in the kennel. I’ll do the annoying chores I don’t care. I cannot be anywhere near him. I refuse. The tension and awkwardness is too great, I’ll be too stressed out in day kamp. If they put me in day kamp most of the month, or more than twice a week which even that is a bit of a stretch, I need to look for another job because I cannot do that any more. I really don’t want to leave because I more or less have job security here, they need me, but I cannot come to work and deal with this shit anymore.

we’ll just have to see how next month’s schedule turns out.. :/