#answering this with Huge Man was surprisingly difficult

[monochromatictoad]

Dr Jekyll and King Kong for whichever F/O!

I'll answer this with HUGE MAN.

Dr Jekyll- Does your F/O have any big aspirations?

Other than appearing on camera and taking out the security man? Not really. There isn't a lot of canon info about the Intruders in IoOD, but considering he's a rare intruder, I would say that he'd rather just be left alone. Maybe getting more muscular, if that was at all possible.

King Kong- Describe a time your F/O acted selflessly for you.

I can't even begin to explain how many times he's saved me from one of the more aggressive anomalies. The Bureau is ok with him, as long as I keep him contained. But for a specific time, it would probably be... The time I accidentally set off the Skinny Prince, and got chased through the school, before Huge Man saved me.

[soxcreg]

Cold Secrets

Part one

Modern!Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Summery: You're in love with the captain of the King's Landing University hockey team. You've kept it a closely guarded secret , but something goes wrong.

Disclaimer: Enflish isn't my first language!

Word count: 1.3k

Part two, part three

After the bell rang, I left the classroom as quickly as possible and headed for the school exit. The bus would arrive at the stop in ten minutes, if I didn't make it, I'd have to walk home in the cold. The devil made me wear a skirt with nylon tights in November.

Surprisingly, I made it to the stop, but when I saw the bus, I was distracted by the ringing phone and didn't have time to wave my hand.

"Damn hell," I made a face and started whining.

I looked down at my phone and answered it, turning towards my apartament.

"Hello?" I adjusted my backpack and looked up at the brightly colored signs of cafes, hotels and pubs. "Hey, Y/N, are busy tonight? Jace and Baela are having a get-together," Helaena's voice came from the other end of the line. "And since you're family, do you have to be there?" I shivered slightly as the wind blew.

"Yeah, but they said I could invite someone. You'll come, right?" I sighed heavily. "You think this is a good idea? Last time wasn't much fun".

By last time, I meant Jace's previous get-together, which was mostly college kids. I went because Helaena asked me to, but her family distracted her from my coming , and we never saw each other that night. But I was surrounded by drunk fooball players, and I barely managed to get rid of them.

"I'll meet you this time. And I had a serious talk with my cousins about those idiots. It'll just be a few girls from the University, my brothers, cousins and the hockey team. Jace and Aegon play there, remember?" I walked down the main street and turned toward the University. My apartament was two blocks away, too bad it wasn't that close to the school. "Okay, I'll come".

I'm ready and waiting for Helaena's call. I put on a black dress, a sweatshirt on top to cover my bare arms. I put on makeup and styled my hair. It was quite difficult, my hair was frizzy and curly. I put on warm boots, a jacket and a scarf on my head. The doorbell rang. I grabbed my bag, answered the call on the phone and left the apartament.

"Hello," I locked the door and went to the elevator. "Y/N, Cregan is waiting for you in the car outside the house. He was just on his way, I asked him to give you a ride, okay?" My hand froze over the elevator button. What do her mean? I'm going with Cregan? My cheecks turned pink, my heart started beating faster. "Yeah, okay. I'll be right out".

As the elevator descended, my brain quickly processed the information. I met Cregan a year ago, when my family moved to King's Landing. Helaena invited me to meet her family, and he was visiting Jace.

Thise strange Targaryen-Hightower-Velaryon family lived in one huge house, theire family estate. We didn't talk much with Stark, but I liked him very much then. Since then, I secretly glance at him and sigh quetly. And now we are going to the party together in his car.

I tried to catch my breath and look calm. When I left the house, I saw a big black car, next to which stood the man of my dreams.

I walked up to the tall guy. "Hi," He looked at me, "Hi. Get in the car, it's cold". I nodded silently and walked to the front passenger seat. I got in, Cregan got in after me. We pulled away. I felt a little awkward. "So... Will everyone from the team be there?"

"Everyone axcept Blackwood. He's sick". We fell silent again. After a while, he suddenly broke the silence. "You're not from the University, are you?" I looked at him. His nose was slightly hooked, from past observations I could tell it was also broken. "Yeah, I'm from high school".

"How did you meet Helaena?" Cregan glanced at me, but quickly looked back at the road. "Online. We corresponded for a while, and met after my family moved here".

He smiled slightly. "Sounds like her".

"What do you mean?" I looked at him, confused. "Jace told me that she doesn't really like public places. And she only started coming to our get-together after she introduced us to you"

We talked a little more, and then drove up to the Targaryen estate. We go out of the car, Helaena was standing near the entrance. She quickly took me away from Cregan. I was a little upset, but then I got back into the conversation, this time with my best friend.

An hour and a half later, we were sitting in the living room, drunk, talking and laughing. Helaena and I were mostly silent, sometimes laughing at jokes and drinking. Someone suggested playing spin the bottle. How trite. Someone voiced my thoughts, so they suggested playing something more original. I don't think pass the card sounds better. But Aegon talked Helaena into it, and she talked me into it.

"Please, come on. Aegon won't leave you alone," Her brother chuckled from behind, "Oh, yes, beautiful, agree. We're just missing you".

And so I sit between Jace and Cregan, a little embarrassed, watching as they start passing a playing card to each other with their lips.We agreed that if the card falls, we should kiss.That's why I nervously finger the rings on my fingers.

At first everithing was decent, but then the guys got hot and drank too much. The jokers deliberately blew the cards away and kissed those to whom they were supposed to pass them. For several laps I managed to hold on to the card and not let awkward moments happen, but on the next lap Cregan lost his hold on the card. We exchanged glances.

As we hesisted, the crowd began to egg us on. They giggled quietly, began to whisper, and then pushed me and Cregan closer to each other. Then Cregan grabbed my shoulders so that I wouldn't fall and brought his face close to mine.

"Is this okay?" I looked into his eyes, they were so beauiful, mesmerizing. I blushed from the close contact with him. And there were a lot of people here. But they were all playing the same game as us. It wouldn't be weird if we kissed. "Yeah, it's okay".

He nodded, our lips touched. The kiss way slow, reeking of the alcohol he was drinking. I always had something light in my glass to avoid any mishaps. Cregan smelled something tart. Or was it his cologne? He deepened the kiss, interwining his tongue with mine. I moved stiffly, a little crumpled. I had never kissed before, so why was I doing it now. Horrible thoughts filled my head.

I pulled away from Cregan, my cheeks were burning. We looked at each other, but i quickly looked away. It was so awkward. I quickly took the card, put it to my lips and handed it to Jace. The circle started again. Everyone was already tired, so they finished the game. Helaena asked to stay the night with them, because it was already late, and I couldn't call an Uber because of the crowed. So I agreed. I went to the bathroom, my friend gave me her things. When I came out of the bathroom, Stark was there. He was also staying the night. I wished him goodnight and quickly ran to the room that was given to me for the night. Already lying in bed, I thought a lot about the kiss, but thank the Seven, I drank so much that I quickly fell asleep.

There will be a second part!

[immortalityforthegoddess]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐚.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!

𝐌𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 😶

𝙁𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨!

𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥:

-Jaegyeon is a lot more quite and reserved around you. It's because he trusts you.

-Jaegyeon isn't a fan of PDA, holding hands is as far as he'll go. At home it's a completely different story.

-Jaegyeon likes dying his hair different colors and often asks you for your opinion.

-Jaegyeon is surprisingly a good cook but hates the after math of aka, the dishes. So to compromise, he cooks and you clean.

-Jaegyeon spends most of his time working on his car or on his phone doing god knows what.

-Not to say he doesn't spend time with you, because whenever ever he has a free moment or day, it's gonna be with you.

-He likes buying you expensive jewelry and clothes.

-Jaegyeon is a dog person any day of the week.

-like I said man isn't big on PDA but if he notices someone checking you out, he'll put his hand around your waist. Glaring at the dude.

-No surprise, Jaegyeon is a good looking man, a very good looking man, so it's no surprise when different women come up and ask for his number with or without you right there and his answer is the same every time. "Am taken."

-Jaegyeon likes it when you sit on his lap. It's nice to be chilling and have you on his lap kissing his neck and playing with his hair.

-You trust each other completely. Both have to passwords to each other's phones and computer's, etc. He randomly will come up to you and ask to use it. Or if it's just sitting somewhere random, he'll still just use it.

-Jaegyeon LOVES to cuddle. Laying in bed after a difficult day with you in his arms, is like heaven to this man.

-He absolutely loves it when you wear his clothes, especially when it's just one of his T-shirts and panties.

-Jaegyeon will send random dog memes through out the day.

-It's his life's mission to at the very least make you laugh twice a day no matter what.

-There really is no arguing with him. If he's wrong he's wrong and let's it go. But if he's right, he makes that very clear and doesn't just let it go.

-He's very chill, all your friends like him, funny, calm, sweet, handsome...rich AF.

-Will drive you where ever you need to go, no matter how far. Will cancel his own plans to make sure you get somewhere.

-Is very supportive, of anything you do as long as it's safe.

-he's at least a foot or two taller than you.

-Doesn't really do good with emotion, so when you have a hard day, he'll just sit there and let you cry, scream, talk, sob anything to make you feel batter.

-Will NEVER admit this but he loves you more than his car.

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 (𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚):

-Jaegyeon is Huge to put it simply. 13 inches, maybe even 14.

-Jaegyeon loves bathing with you. He'll touch you a lot, mainly your boobs.

-incase you didn't get the hint, is a boobies type man, 100%.

-will fuck you front or back, doesn't matter to him.

-you will randomly just wear a large oversized shirt and panties, he takes the chance to bend you over something and slip his dick inside your velvet walls.

-He loves to randomly come up to you and have a quicky or straight up puts his finger inside you.

-100% has a daddy kink without a doubt.

-He loves breeding you, he wants to be a dad someday.

-let's you bounce on him as much as you need or want. Loves seeing your titties bounce up and down when you do.

-Will only do toys just to tease the fucking hell out of you.

-When he's behind or in front, he will spread your ass cheeks or pussy folds to see where you and him connect.

-Is very rough, dirty talks a lot. Also teases a lot.

-Loves watching you touch yourself, weather it's playing with your own boobs or fingering yourself, he loves it all.

-has videos of your playing with yourself or him fucking you. He'll play the video to hear your moans as he touches himself when he is away.

-has hundreds of nudes of you, naked or some type of sexy clothing.

-Will randomly when your napping or sleeping, take off all your clothes, including panties and bras and take pitchers of your naked exposed sleeping body. He'll also touch you or himself. You know of this and are okay with it. You do the same, you also have quite a few dick pics.

-has video cameras in the restroom, you know this. So when you take a bath you'll touch yourself and maon, he'll will either be on the other side watching, or playing with himself or just go into the restroom and hump you.

-Will randomly slap your ass through out the day.

-when ever you fight and he's just done, he'll pull up a video of your touching yourself to fluster the hell out of you and it works everytime.

-will respect your boundaries if you say no, but at times he might not.

-Will randomly, when he's mad or just having a bad day, come up to you and grab your hair pulling you down, he'll undo his belt and take his dick out, slipping it into your mouth.

[chocsra]

"Looks like You Do Need my Help."

15! Chuuya x implied fem! mafia! reader

A/N: I WILL BE DOING A PART TWO TO THIS, thank you @sstarshroom for the request!! 🫶

Content: being protected by the cocky nakahara chuuya, fluff, oneshot, comedy, violence, swearing, slowburn, teen romance, enemies to lovers?, no mentions of dazai this time 😔

based off the song despair & riko in jjk!

"What the hell, man?!"

You jump off the fenced rooftop onto a smaller abandoned one, your legs shaking as you get up to face the huge monster hovering above you. It's been 6 hours since you woke up, and in those 6 hours, just going out was a difficult task without getting ambushed or attacked. Inside the rusty machine with several chainsaws and drills attached to it lay a middle-aged man with wrinkles and a scruffy, old brown trenchcoat. He had been relentlessly attacking you; it seemed that his weapons never tired out. Damn bastard.

The man launches various spikes and blades at you, unhinging the loose screws of the tiny rooftop. You fearlessly jump into the air, grabbing onto a loose piece of rust on another beat-up building. Behind the steel machine, he only laughs maniacally, seeing your face contort into a death glare. You activate your ability and send a collateral attack onto him, destroying the machine's arms. As some sort of last resort, the machine drops an explosion onto the building. You let go instinctively, about to hit your head against a metal pipe.

That's when a hand gently protects your head from the impact, arm sliding around the nape of your neck as their other arm hooks under your thighs, hand cradling your knees. A gravitional pressure sends you up into the air, despite feeling a heat holding you close to them; your mind feels fuzzy as the person spins several times in the air, feeling them kick and fly as they hold you in their arms. It felt like a roller coaster, except the only support was their half-assed grip on you. The turbulence in the air doesn't allow you to see your saviour's face, but the firmness of his chest and rasp in his voice only led you to the idea of a guy.

"Hahahaha!!"

He laughed devilishly as you clung onto his shoulders for support. It was a boy about the same age as you, with smooth, wavy orange hair that framed his face and piercing blue eyes. His lips were curled into a lopsided smirk, pale skin shining under the bright sun. The redhead wore a raven fedora adorned by a silver chain, which surprisingly didn't move or fall off considering the amount of flying in the air. A red aura gleamed off both of you as you looked back at the now-massacred machine.

"Are these the organisations that oppose the Port Mafia? I can't say I'm impressed." He smirked, setting himself down atop the dead machine where the heavily beaten and bruised man lay, choking out blood as shards of rust cut into his temples. The boy, still using his ability to hoist you up, sent a crushing stomp on the beaten man's throat, causing a loud shudder to erupt from his diaphragm. 'Stop comin' after kids, yea? Fuckin' bastard." He spat, twisting his heel directly over his windpipe. You heard a seering crack as the man's green eyes shot wide before going blank.

A few moments later, the boy softly sets you down atop another brick rooftop. "Easy now." He eases, seeing as you stumble on the ground from all the spinning. "Wha- are you with the Port Mafia?" You rub your head soothingly, feeling dizzy. "The Port Mafia? Nah. Never heard of them." The ginger grins, chuckling sarcastically as he puts his hands in his pockets. He wore black slacks and a grey suit vest with a maroon neck tie secured under his white button-up. A raven blazer worn over his forearms, the sleeves cut to just down his elbows, along with tight black gloves that were secured in his pockets. He wasn't all that tall, despite having long, defined legs. You tilt your head in confusion, hoping for an answer. "How come so many people are after me today?" You question, causing the boy to soften his gaze on your clouded state.

"You really don't know? Your ability is pretty good; it was just leaked on the black market." He answers before taking his hands out of his pockets and adjusting the gloves wrapped around his wrists with a nonchalant gaze. "What?" You ask with concern in your eyes, slowly getting up from the ground. "Are you after me too?! Back the fuck up!!" You glare defensively, and the boy only scoffs in response. "Relax. You're not that spectacular." You only frown in response, spinning around on your heels to turn away from him. "Whatever. Thanks, I guess." You mutter, walking away from him on the rooftop, only for him to appear in front of you with raised brows as his hands rested in his blazer's pockets.

"Where are you goin'? The Port Mafia sent me here for a reason, y'know." The boy feigns a sigh, his eyes darting to your clenched fists. "Why? At least tell me your name or something." You suggest, stopping yourself from leaving. He taps his boot on the ground with a heavy sigh. "Chuuya. Chuuya Nakahara. And I'm sent to babysit you since you're kind of a commodity right now." You furrow your brows at his statement. "Babysit? And 'Chuuya'? Isn't that the Sheep King's name?" For the first time, the redhead scowls in annoyance. "I was never their king.." He mutters, gritting his teeth. "And how do you know that?!" Chuuya shouts, pink tinting his ears lightly. "Gossip is prominent in the Port Mafia!!" You yell back, causing him to back down.

"I guess, yeah.." He mumbles, looking down. "So you work in the Port Mafia now?" You ask with a straight face, watching him as he leans back against a wall. "So you know about that too?" Chuuya asks, sighing. "Yeah, why else would you save me?" You smile proudly, resting a hand on your hip. "Don't flatter yourself." He answered frowning, causing you to frown. "Well, you did well. But I don't need your help; I'm just fine by myself." You grin arrogantly, fanning your face with closed eyes. "Really now?" The redhead asks cockily, stepping in front of you with a challenging gaze.

"Yes, you dare doubt m-" You continued with your nose pointed upwards until you opened your eyes to reveal a large man hovering above you two with a fancy machine gun, with only Chuuya standing in between you. "Looks like you do need my help." He turns to you with a proud smirk before turning back and activating his ability, launching a tornado kick towards the man.

"What?! No I don't- Fuck you!!"

You sigh deeply as he leaps up to decimate the battlefield effortlessly, laughing about how 'pathetic' the opponents are.

Today was going to be a long day.

[nkn0va]

Wagner, Tsubaki, and Kaguya with a s/o who grew up very poor? I mean ghetto type of poor, like Cali and vegas.

Straight Outta Compton lookin' ass S/O lmao

-Wagner...has no idea how the hell she ever managed to fall for such a "commoner" like you. No matter how much time passes she will never really have an answer.

-Her family is absolutely not going to approve of you if they found out about you now, she knows that, but she can't help but stay with you anyway. She finds such an act of rebellion exciting, though she'll never say that to anyone.

-That said though, if she really wishes to stay with you in the long term, she'll have to teach you proper rich person etiquette. She low key makes a date out of teaching you how to best behave in front of her family for when the day inevitably comes.

-She grew up pampered and in luxury, so getting to know you on a more intimate level was like learning about an entirely new world. As primitive and beneath her as she felt it to be, learning about growing up the way you did was...intriguing, if nothing else.

-It definitely took Wagner a while to warm up to the thought of dating you. She needed to truly test if you were really in love with her, not just her money considering your background. She made you do some...really obscure things, and leave it at that. Especially if you're a guy.

-That said once she did finally convince herself her growing attraction was mutual, she found a surprisingly down to earth, albeit maybe vulgar S/O that could match her hot-headedness and determination. That was something she never knew she needed before.

-Tsubaki is much more open to the idea of an S/O from a rural area. Likely you managed to get into the Torifune Academy through sheer talent in one area or another, so she immediately had some respect for you getting into such a prestigious academy without a rich family name backing you.

-You were...among her more assertive acquaintances, but she understood to an extent. You had to be strong-willed to survive in the lower levels of a Hierarchical City. She was about to stand up for you when you were facing bullying from other students from noble families, but you quickly showed you were having none of that, verbally destroying them much worse than Tsubaki was about to.

-That was the first huge boost of admiration she had for you, which would eventually become attraction the more she got to know you. You were...skeptical at first, but her sincerity and earnestness was unlike anyone else there and she started winning you over before you knew it.

-There was a palpable romantic tension throughout your years at the academy that everyone could sense, however it took an accidental slip-up on Tsubaki's part for her feelings to come out, resulting in a very prominent blush and a reluctant, nervous confession, which you were more than happy to return.

-The two of you make a surprisingly good pair in battle. Her methodical, graceful fighting style combined with your streetwise, relentless ways of fighting. You made it extremely difficult for any opponent to learn how to adapt to both of you at once, and together were almost undefeated in sparring both at the academy and in the NOL itself.

-No matter what her old man may think of you, she will do everything in her power to defend you regardless of your Ars Magus aptitude. You're the best partner she could've possibly asked for, and she'll fight to keep you by her side no matter what it takes.

-Kaguya definitely understands your attitude the most. She used to be much the same during her childhood, as embarrassed as she is about it. She won't ever be telling you about it, though.

-She actually sees quite a bit of her old self in you, finding it rather amusing. This went doubly so for when she eventually started catching feelings for you. She didn't really know what to make of it.

-There was no denying her feelings however, and when she gets feelings, she conveys them by teasing. She will stop if you ask her to but that won't stop her from doing it again eventually, it's just too much fun, especially if your reaction is to get angry or flustered.

-She might try to fix your manners like Wagner will, but she's much less strict on it. If you don't want to, it's not a deal breaker for her, though she will ask you to maybe tone down the cursing if you do it a bit too much. You're too good looking to have a such a dirty mouth, at least if you ask her.

-If you're an In-Birth she is more than willing to follow you in and will probably end up provoking someone to fight you if you don't do it first, purely to see you in action, all with a smug smile on her face. Of course she'll jump in and help if they prove to be too much for you but that doesn't really make it better.

-She's going to protect you of course, even if you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but she just wants to see her big strong S/O do their thing. It rolls off her tongue as if it's totally normal to put your partner in dangerous situations for your own amusement. She really kills you sometimes...

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

[spuukinightmares]

Mondo Owada Headcanons

Because I need more of these . I need more of these so badly and if no one will give them to me I’ll DO IT MYSELF DAMMIT!

These are all romantic btw . sooo it’s x reader . If that’s not what u want thennnn sorrayyy !!

I feel like I’m gonna end up regretting this later and cringing at myself … but oh well !

Let’s just get this over with so I can gaslight myself into believing that I never wrote this nuh uh no way

Just in case you’re unaware, Mondo falls into the “tough guy delinquent who’s actually a big softie” trope of character.

Which basically means, though he acts all tough and looks all scary in front of everyone else, with his S/O? It’s almost a complete 180.

Whenever you’re alone together, he’s a huge teddy bear.

At the beginning of the relationship, it may take a while for him to actually be comfortable with cuddling and stuff like that.

He may not look it, but he’s actually kinda shy!

He doesn’t wanna mess things up, he doesn’t wanna hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

Plus, his whole life he’s had to keep together his strong, tough guy image in front of everyone.

He’s never really had anyone that he could just be vulnerable with until you. It was a big change.

Once he comes out of his shell though? HUGE cuddler.

He loves to hold you in his arms, to hold your hand, kiss you…

I think that physical touch would be one of his main love languages.

But he still values his image, so when you’re in public together, he isn’t gonna be super affectionate with you.

That’s not to say he won’t be affectionate at all, though!

It’s kind of silly how he does pda, he’s too embarrassed to hold your hand but he’ll still wrap his arm around you when you walk together.

Probably because it still makes him feel strong in a sense that it feels like he’s protecting you.

As well as signalling to other people that they need to back off.

He can get jealous quite easily. There’s a part of him that believes that he doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

That maybe you’d be better off dating someone else.

It makes him feel afraid. Afraid that he’s going to lose you.

I think once you can convince him that you wouldn’t do something like that, and that you don’t want anyone other than him,

He’ll start to hold your hand. :]

Here’s an uncommon headcanon for you:

I’m so sorry, but he would not let you wear the jacket.

Cute as the idea may be, I imagine that his coat is quite sacred to him, sort of like his hair.

So unless you’re a part of the Crazy Diamonds, he’s not gonna let you wear it.

On the topic of his hair though, he almost always has it in his signature pompadour.

And no, he won’t let you touch the pompadour either.

You’ve asked him before if he’s ever let his hair be unstyled, and if he’d ever show you what that would look like.

Immediate answer is “hell no.”

With a bit of convincing, he says that maybe he’ll show you one day, but only if you don’t acknowledge it when it happens.

You agree, of course, but MAN is that a difficult promise to keep.

Because when it actually happens you wanna say something so badly because he looks ??? So gorgeous ?????

But you keep quiet.

Eventually he’ll end up letting you play with it at some point, but only when it’s down.

He finds it very soothing when you run your hands through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

It’s so soothing in fact, that it causes him to fall asleep. Everytime.

Very adorable, just make sure to use this power wisely.

Surprisingly, he’s a quiet sleeper. Though he does drool.

If you sleep in the same bed, he’ll always be cuddling with you in some way.

Whether it be just having an arm around you, or hugging you close to him.

He is VERY warm. Great for when it’s cold, but pretty annoying during the summer.

So maybe try not to be under the covers with him in hot weather.

Good luck getting out of bed in the morning btw because he is NOT letting you go.

He’s usually out with his gang at night so he has a habit of going to bed late and not getting up until like . 12pm or something.

Which kinda works out if your sleep schedule is just as bad as his (coughs me coughs).

You help patch him up after fights !!

He gets into a lot of them, and sometimes he doesn’t even notice where he got hurt.

He’s a bit careless when it comes to that sort of thing, so you’re always the one thoroughly checking him over and bandaging him.

It would be oh so cute if you kissed some of his wounds before putting on bandages.

He begins to sort of look forward to you patching him up, so much so that he even allows himself to be hit a few times just so that you can.

He’d NEVER admit to this though. Never.

This isn’t to say that he wouldn’t try to avoid getting seriously injured, however.

He knows you care about him and he doesn’t wanna worry you, so he’s started trying extra hard to not get super roughed up.

Plus he tries to avoid fights all together when you’re with him.

Did I mention that he lets you ride behind him on his motorcycle? Because he does.

If you’re sensitive to loud noises, he’ll keep the muffler on. Or get you some earplugs.

If you’re nervous about it for the first time, he’ll promise to be careful.

Expect to be riding behind him a lot.

He’s never quite sure what to do for dates, so he usually just drives you around the city and makes a bunch of stops at places that he thinks you’d like.

He might also buy you some little trinkets if he has the money.

He’ll be especially nervous with giving gifts to you, he really wants you to like them.

Will probably end up shouting and cursing at nothing, assuming the worst if you don’t respond right away.

He’ll feel REALLY BAD if you flinch, apologizing profusely. And swearing at himself some more as he tries to quiet down.

Eventually you’ll be able to spot the signs when he’s nervous.

You’ll attempt to calm him by holding his hand or putting your hand on his arm or chest, reassuring him that it’s okay and he doesn’t have to feel so nervous.

He’s been working on his volume, for your sake.

Overall he is a very loving and gentle boyfriend, if not a little awkward.

You just need to show him a bit of patience :]

omfg this took SO LONGG and ended up BEING so long too . Oopsie . But anyways I hope that anyone who read this got some sort of enjoyment out of it because I will never be writing again goodbye forever I shall now retreat into my little hole of shame. /hj

WHY IS TUMBLR SO HARD TO USE WHY DOES IT KEEP DELETING TEXT ?? AND IT ADDS TEXT IVE ALR DELETED .. HELP?

I think I need to go to sleep .

[brawltogethernow]

Who is your least favorite spider-man writer and artist and your most favorite artist and writer of spider-man?

Picking favorites feels surprisingly tricky, not because I can't but because Buscema edges out Romita on art but Conway edges out DeMatteis on writing (by dint of spending thirty straight years + 20 more off and on kicking my ass and how when he falls on his ass it remains fun for me), and these names next to each other are nothing. This is a stupid combination. Really highlights how superhero comics are made by teams and a single dude cannot guarantee quality if they're not vibing with the rest of the carpool. But if I'm picking a team the seventies beats the nineties, and it's sooo disingenuous to try to narrow down one pair of names when that era was Lee/Romita bleeding into Lee/Conway/Romita into Conway/Romita/Kane, also every few issues Mooney dips in to push the Peter having pretty eyelashes agenda and then leaves. Like some of the best art in this era had Kane doing pencils and Romita inking, and I like their combined style more than Romita penciling his own work if we're talking the period where he was still a full time illustrator, but I midkey dislike Kane's pencils inked by everybody else. I looked up who was illustrating 90's Web with Conway on scripts and it turns out the art I like best is a penciler and inker team and the quality takes a dive whenever either of them takes a month off and leaves the other one in a substitute's hands. You know! Team efforts! Anyway here are some iconic combinations in no order cherry picked to cut out overlap and sneak more people in.

Yes Please:

DeMatteis/Buscema

SSM #180

There's a rhythm to this team's work I've full stop never seen anywhere else.

Lee/Romita

ASM #83

The Vibe.

Conway/Andru

ASM #145

The number of times Gerry Conway has kicked my ass. u_u With Romita Sr. and Andru the most distinctive art trait is the faces - Andru's were never as doll-perfect as Romita's, and that's kind of the best thing about them?

Now guys I hate on the other hand. Way less complex. Debated whether to answer this because I try not to go on about who in the industry sucks at their job but this is not because I couldn't.

Please No:

Spencer/Otley

ASM (2018) #30

It should have been difficult to outdo the preceding run, but writing that was simultaneously nonsensical and insulting, deflated pacing where each issue achieved about as much as a single newspaper strip, a teeth-first art style where every face sports a pained grimace and the meandering composition always scores a D-, and the finishing touch of colors that I can only describe as Averaging Out to Oatmeal...combined to create some of the worst comics I've ever seen. Spencer and I appreciate so many of the same comics and his understanding of what makes them good is so poor that it's almost like receiving a personalized hate letter.

Slott/anybody

ASM #546

He can write well which just makes it worse. I don't even know where to start enumerating his crimes. Like do I just pick one anecdote? When there are so many?

Land (the porn trace guy)

Symbiote Spider-Man: Alien Reality #2 but I could have opened anything and found a bad traced yelling face

You know. The guy. Who traces from porn. That guy. He remains gainfully employed despite being known for this. Does he have dirt on an important executive?

Campbell (yes he watermarked the one on the left two separate times AFTER signing it)

ASM (2018) #2 variant, Renew Your Vows #11 variant

If you're distant from the recent comics scene it's hard to convey how omnipresent this guy is. He's like the comic sans of artists. After having the way he draws women ripped to shreds by social media over a decade ago, Campbell doubled down and has since then drawn hundreds of pinups of identical women in invisible high heels making the exact same face. Singlehandedly a huge factor in how people visualize MJ becoming "skinny carrot top with a pointy chin and freckles". He's proud of this.

[jamieedlund]

What's ur favorite hc for Aaravos?

This is a surprisingly hard question to unpack for a lot of reasons- but I'll do my best to articulate myself (ง •_•)ง

I think this spoke for itself but just in case, here is a short elaboration: if I had to pick a favorite, it would have to be this.

He is someone who - despite all of the odds, despite how the world treated to him, despite being ridiculed, subjected to the worst torture known to man(yes solitary confinement is considered one of the most inhumane methods of torture) for over 300 years and had his name dragged through the mud for literal centuries-

-could still smile so brightly and sincerely like that, affirming that he does, with all of his heart, still very much love this world. However twisted that love might be, however difficult it was for him to learn how to use and express that love in a healthy way, it still speaks volume about who he is as a person.

Now if you have the time, allow me to explain bellow. If not, stop here, the question is basically answered 🙏💗 Thank you for reading!

Hello, if you're reading this that means you are willing to listen/read more about my thoughts and therefore I expect you to have a leveled head and a polite attitude to what I'm about to say.

If not then why are you here there was LITERALLY A STOP BUTTON. Please click off this post, what are you doing with your life wasting it hate watching me? 

With that being said, hello! fellow polite person who is reading this - - - Spoiler there is no illust down here because I'm running low on time on my thesis I'm so sorry ;;A;; Here is the elaboration to why this is my default favorite headcanon!

While I am aware of the amount of WILDLY different headcanons that exist out there for him, which are very popular within the fandom and even taken as gospel, I strongly feel that mine isn't really aligned with some, if not most of the hc out there at all.

Personally, I don't even agree with the canon version of in him ss4.

I'm assuming that you are asking me about my- personal favorite headcanon for him so for now, my answer will be: Ignoring the terrible characterization of him in season 4, my absolute favorite thing about him has to be: Despite everything, despite what everyone says about him, despite how the world perceives him

He is

without a doubt

Someone who loves this world very much.

Again this all ties in with what I'm going to present in my thesis, so I can't elaborate on it too much without giving any spoilers to the case I'm going to present for him. But for now, and especially right now at the time of writing this, they just released another vaguely worded and filled to the brim with plot holes short story regarding his past ... I-- hm I sincerely have no intention to keep up with the series... Therefore my hc will definitely contradict vastly with the horrendous plot holes ridden pre-established canon

-which then made the act of answering to this question exceedingly difficult due to the way I personally perceive him.

To wrap it up, all I want to say is, we could have had it all, a character who would make us cry, laugh and want to root for, had they written him with love and care, rather than trying to stuff him into the shoes a villain, which just felt forced and unnatural. Villains who are terrible only to be stopped have been overdone, and for tdp to be another generic show is a huge waste of potential

Wouldn't most of us have killed for, finally, an antagonist who isn't actually the antagonist but rather the very system that these people are experiencing is the actual villain ? ? ?

Best of all, they could have contrasted this with Callum, our protagonist. In Callum's case, despite being portrayed as one of "the good guys" or "heroes", he has all the reason to hate the world. This in turn create a complex narrative about the nature of people - Or in this case, the hero acting morally righteous despite hating the world vs the guy who was deemed evil and terrible by the world and yet still loves it with all of his heart. It could have been a heart-warming story about how two individuals find their way in this messed up world-- but nope~ non of this is canon :DDD

When in the history of television has any shows have a twist with the "hero" and "villain" ditching their role immediately to become a neutral party to reflect all the flaws in the world they live in? ? ? TDP had the perfect setup, but then proceeded to drop all of the balls spectacularly in ss4...

I always try my best to not touch ss4 but it feels almost impossible to talk about Aaravos w/out addressing the disservice that it did to his character. And that is all, I have to say for now~

Sincerely, thank you for reading.

[i-can-sabotage-me-bi-myself]

How'd We End Up Like This?

AO3

Wattpad

Chapters: 1/?

Word Count: 1.3K

Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, slight nsfw, RE4 Remake spoilers

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy/female!reader

Summary: The reader is struck by some mysterious aching in her back during her and Leon's mission to save the President's daughter. The pain is revealed to be something far greater than she anticipated. Will this jeopardize her relationship with Leon?

Chapter 1: The Village

It happened on one of your missions. Of course it did. 

You were slower with your reflexes to attacks. As an agent in STRATCOM, this was highly unusual. Your partner and lover, Leon, had noticed, while the two of you were on your mission in Spain. 

You first took notice to the slow reactions when doing, or trying, a roundhouse kick on a Ganado at the lakeside settlement. Your body decided nope, you're not doing that, and surprisingly, you agreed. The act of even attempting it sent a rigid feeling, or perhaps a pretty nasty sting, to your back.

When you stopped to catch your breath, one Ganado lunged for your throat. You repeatedly punched the bastard to death, with little to no trouble. However, unbeknownst to you, there were two others behind you. One Ganado kicked the back of your knees, and before you could even react, you were pinned to the ground, and they kicked you. In the back. Repeatedly. 

They were possessed but that didn't make them stupid, you supposed. They must have noticed your reaction to the pain in your back, which was now being beaten like a fucking punching bag. 

Despite it hurting like a bitch, you're able to unsheathe your combat knife, and roll over to swipe at their legs. Before you can whip out your handgun, two shots ring out, and the two Ganados promptly drop dead. Leon helps you up, grasping your arms ever so delicately. 

"You alright?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." You answer, slightly out of breath. Leon only nods, looking back ahead on the path, but you don't miss the concerned look that grazes his features. 

This has never happened before. What the fuck is going on with me? 

* 

Despite the occasional flash of pain that inflicted your back, you carried on with the mission. You and Leon had gotten split up at the lakeside settlement shortly after your beating.  

You knew Leon could handle himself, but at one point, he was radio silent for hours. You'd shared your concerns with Hunnigan, and she agreed it was unusual. Eventually, he came to, to your relief. 

"Leon, are you alright? You haven't made contact with me for hours." You couldn't mask the fear that surfaced in your voice.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Was busy making sushi. It won't happen again." He must have been referencing that giant fucking creature in the lake that you saw villagers getting eaten by earlier. Well, at least you got someplace to start looking for Leon. 

"Okay. Don't do that again, love." 

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." 

* 

Eventually you both reunited and retrieved the pieces to obtain the church key. Fucking finally. 

The two of you rescued Ashley and were headed to the extraction point. It was fairly easy to get to the Villa, but an unfamiliar face ushered the three of you inside, away from the Ganados on your tail. 

Leon, to say the least, was pissed at this dude and pushed him against the wall. You couldn't help the slight arousal that shot to your core seeing him like this, wishing it was you in this unknown man's position. But there was no time for that now. Ashley needed to be taken to safety and there was a huge fight approaching you guys and the rest of the village. 

Once introducing yourselves to one Luis Sera, save for Leon, Ashley went into hiding and the three of you started blocking the windows and readying your weapons. 

As if this mission couldn't get any more difficult, the Villa was quickly swarmed by villagers and eventually, a fucking Brute out of all things busts in. 

"Fuck my life!" you curse out in frustration, reloading your pistol. 

"Language, señorita!" Luis shouts at you, jokingly. Somehow through all the chaos, he was able to hear you. 

"Shut it, you." you snap back. That was weird. I don't tend to be that snippy. Probably just stress from the mission. 

"Yikes, sorry." he responded immediately. You felt a slight pang of guilt, but that was quickly replaced by the renewed determination to get out of this hellhole. Noticing Leon slowly getting cornered by the brute, and the second floor being crowded with Plaga Guadañas, you pull out two flash grenades from your belt. 

"Flash grenades coming!" you shout, pulling pins on both grenades, and throw one to the brute, and one to the Guadañas. The Plaga Guadañas promptly die, and the brute is temporarily incapacitated. Given the opportunity, Leon blasts four shotgun shells into it, and finally, fucking finally, it drops dead. 

The Ganados kept coming in waves, and there seemed to be no end to it. 

"Hey! This way! Hurry!" Ashley opens a door leading to an escape. 

The four of you get the bat out of hell, but only for a moment. You all reach the end of a bridge, still having Ganados chasing you. You notice chains keeping up a gate, and promptly shoot it, causing the gate to drop on an unfortunate villager. 

You all take a moment to catch your breath, and then Ashley starts coughing. Coughing up blood. 

"Ashley?!" You hear Leon voicing your same concern. 

"Wh-What's happening to me?" she trembles. 

Luis quickly approaches her, looking like he knows what's up. 

"Ashley, is this the first time you've coughed up blood like this?" she only nods, and before you can even ask, Leon beats you to the punch. 

"You wanna start explaining?" 

Luis reveals that Ashley is infected with a plaga, and she could end up like those villagers, but there is a cure. You notice Leon's reaction to this; him clenching his fist, looking down at his arm. What's that about? You wonder, sorta worried, but maybe that's just you being a doting partner. Yeah, that's probably it.

Hopefully, the three of you can find that cure in time. 

Luis leaves shortly after this revelation, claiming that the reason for his assistance is that it "makes him feel better." About what exactly? This mission is leaving you with more questions than answers. You knew this wasn't gonna be a simple mission, but you wish it was. 

After a briefing with Hunnigan, which left some more bad news, you all start moving again. You didn't get very far, as that pain in your back came back, which oddly enough, afflicted your lower abdomen as well. 

Leon and Ashley turn to you when they hear your sharp gasp, to see you clutching your lower back and your other hand resting on your abdomen. The two swiftly approach you, Leon especially. 

"You okay?" Ashley asks, concerned. 

"Yeah, it's just my back hurting from earlier." 

"Earlier?" Ashley presses further. 

"Two Ganados got the jump on me and kicked the shit out of my back." 

"...Jesus. Are you okay to move?" 

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Let's keep going." 

"Hold on. Ashley, could you give me a minute with her?" Leon directs his gaze to you, failing to mask any concern from his features. 

"O-Of course." 

Checking to see the two of you are at a safe distance from Ashley, Leon begins his questioning. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" He gently caresses your left arm, the two of you in closer proximity to each other. You sigh. 

"I'm okay, Leon. Let's just worry about her." You nod your head in her direction, maintaining eye contact with him. You bring his hand to you, gripping it firmly in your hands. "I'll tell you if something is wrong." You gently kiss his knuckles, and trace along his forearm. You sneak a glance at it to see what he was looking at moments earlier, only to find nothing unusual. 

"It's just-" 

"I'll be okay, mon cœur.” 

Sighing, Leon brings his hand to your face, letting it linger, with his eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie, only to find none. He lets his hand drop, and he starts walking along the path, with you and Ashley following suit. 

***

I hope y'all liked this! Stay tuned for more :P

Taglist (Lemme know if any of y'all would like to be tagged!):

@so-mordor-itis

[ladylooch]

Can we see Mack's phone call to Lucie once she wakes up? Xx

The comfort she feels waking up wrapped around her man, her stomach drops when he says her sister dropped by, the teasing from Lucie once she's on the phone. Connor's reaction to hearing David was found snuggled up to his bad ass sister in law

Gonna focus on Lucie's phone call with Mack for this one... but you can read Mack's reaction to Lucie's visit here.

Mack waits to call Lucie until David heads out to grab some additional groceries to keep nursing Mack back to health. She is feeling a lot better after the soup and continuing to drink fluids, but she is still weak and having water coming out certain ends it shouldn’t. David suggested charcoal as another remedy. His mom used to give it to him and his siblings when they were really sick with a stomach bug. Mack figures it can’t hurt. 

The phone call barely rings before her older sister’s voice comes over the phone.

“Hey, hi, how are you?”

“I’m okay. Alive.” Mack shrugs, nestling in under her blanket. She pauses. 

“Did David tell you I came over?” Lucie cuts right to the chase as is her way.

“He did. You know that key is for emergencies?”

“I hadn’t heard from you! I was worried when you didn’t answer your phone or the door. Daddy would never forgive me if I had let you die on your bathroom floor.” Mack chuckles. She supposes Lucie has a point.

“Mmm, well, you’re lucky David was dressed. He usually sleeps naked.”

“How do you know that?” 

“Because I sleep with him regularly.” Lucie squeals at the admission.

“Tell me everything! When did this start! What are you!? Are you just hooking up? Or is it serious?” Questions flow out of Lucie’s mouth excitedly to her sister. Mack sighs.

“He is my boyfriend.” The word sounds strange coming out of her mouth, very new too, but her grin is huge despite how shitty and tired she still feels. “And no it didn’t start out that way.”

“When?” Lucie demands. “I was still firmly under the impression that you hated each other?”

“Were you?” Mack wonders. “Or did you just stop paying attention?” Lucie contemplates. 

“Wait, the pizza night?” She asks.

“Yeah, I mean.. I would consider that the beginning.” 

“Mack! That was so long ago! Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Lucie sounds annoyed but also a little hurt that Mack hadn’t shared something this big with her for months.

“Because it wasn’t supposed to become what it was.” Mack picks at a pill on the blanket across her lap. “It was just supposed to be fun. I didn’t feel the need to tell you because I wasn’t planning on us becoming something.”

“Is it love now?” Mack widens her eyes, a choking sound coming from her throat.

“No. God.” 

“Oh? I saw the way you were this morning. I’ve never seen you like that with someone before.”

“Okay? It doesn’t mean I am in love with him. We want to keep it light.”

“You know he is usually well gone from New York by this time of year? I’m assuming he stuck around for you.” Mack knows he did. “His farm is important to him. You are important to him too, clearly.” Another thing Mack knows. She swallows hard. 

“Luc, I am really not feeling well. Can we talk later?” Mack burrows deeper into the couch, hiding her mouth behind her blanket as she prays her sister takes the excuse so she can get off the phone. 

“Okay, hint taken. Just… be good to each other.” Mack can tell Lucie wants to say more, but she doesn’t allow her to. 

“Will do.”

“Feel better. David seemed to have it handled, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay.” Mack says. “Thanks for the soup. It really helped.”

“Good! I’m glad. Bye.”

Mack clicks off the phone, tossing it onto the end table and burrowing deeper under her blanket. Surprisingly, she feels relieved that Lucie finally knows. It was getting weird and difficult to not tell her sister, but she also wouldn’t have been sure what to call them before this morning either. 

“I’m back.” David calls as he walks into the apartment. Mack looks over at him, smiling limply. “You’re looking pale again.” He frowns. “I’ll get you some Pedialyte.”

“Thank you.” She murmurs. 

David pours the blue raspberry flavor into a tumbler with ice and a straw so Mack can easily drink it. He sets it on the table by her head, then ghosts his hand over her hair. 

“Need anything else?” He asks after a brief kiss on her forehead.

“You to sit down on the couch with me.” 

“Okay.” He smiles. He goes to take off his jacket and grab himself his cup of coffee he got when he was out. Then, he lifts her feet, settling them into his lap and begins to massage them while watching Somebody Feed Phil re-runs.

As she watches the TV, her sister’s words replay in her head, “Just… be good to each other.”

She knows that is what David deserves. And what she does too.

Mack reaches for David’s hand on her hip, gripping his fingers in her hand. She rubs her thumb over the top of his hand, feeling the tendons and callouses there. She glances over at David who meets her gaze. One corner of his mouth lifts. Mack returns his smile with a small one of hers, then focuses back on Phil in Finland.

They stay this way until Mack falls asleep, then David lays down on the couch behind her to join her in his own, comfortable slumber.

[sabrondabrainrot]

Share us your fics ideas please!!

I have sooooooooo many! (Also sorry it took me so long to answer this I didn't see my inbox)

I'm in so many fandoms and my brain is always thinking of found family or hurt comfort or fluff so it tends to all ruminate in my brain.

1-A Wildcards - a Persona x MHA crossover fic. I've started writing this one and it's in the works but the basic idea is, "what if ever persona protag is under one roof and all siblings and all are in school at the mha world." I have chapters and plans but it's hard to get fic motivation on this one at the moment. One of my theories also turned out right for MHA lore and I can't explain why but having my own theory proven right really took the wind out of my sails. XD

2. ff7 what if au - basically there's a theory me and a bunch of ppl online share where president Shinra has a bunch of bastard children and basically my fic idea is, "what if the bastards all grow up under one roof." So I'm currently doing research on characterizations for it. It's difficult for me to nail down Cloud's, Rufus', Evan's, and Lazard's personalities. I love Au's where ppl are brothers or grow up together. I don't have any plans for this other then the kids somehow help Genesis, Angeal, and Sephiroth not go insane but I can't figure out how I want to do that.

3. Simon Petrikov: Fionna and Cake Adventure Time drabbles - basically wanted to continue where Fionna and Cake leaves off and put Simon in the trauma cube where he gets to heal from his past. I also am a sucker when Trauma is blasted in 4k for everyone to see so the entire crew that cares for Simon also gets the trauma beam. I also realized Simon and Betty were never married so I decided that must be changed and wrote them a wedding. :)

4. Gohan's Wheel of Emotions - Another fic idea I've had for a few years now. I want to do a series where basically some kind of xyz machine goes wrong and Gohan gets split into a bunch of pieces and it becomes a race against time to put him back together. I was planning for his emotions to be wondering around. I want this to be teen era Gohan too because I'm a huge sucker for the Saiyaman ark. It's again just hard to find time to write it! I just want to write a cheezy little light hearted kind of self healing story.

5. TMNT turtle tot au - just a fun multicrossover baby adoption event. I'm currently writing this and have almost 2 chapters done! I love the idea of the 2003 turtles having a bunch of different aged turtles showing up at their doorstep. So they have to juggle sending everyone home while doing their best not to adopt anyone (spoiler alert the kids adopt THEM)

6. TMNT a KH/Tsubasa inspired story - I don't want to share too much on this plot but if you know about Kingdom Heart and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles then you can get the idea of what if might be about. :)

7. TMNT brainrot drabble - currently working on this one but it's an 87 drabble fic that was inspired by season 5's finale. but now that I'm writing it (it's almost to 10k now) I REALLY want to have it go past the show finale too because MAN the last seasons of 87 are GREAT angst potential. I'm a huge sucker for hurt comfort and this entire fic is kind of like hurt comfort lite.

8. Hetalia - I have so much brain rot for Hetalia but I find it surprisingly hard to write for. I want to do a bunch of silly Hetalia fics about America and his super strength. I love that little idiot because he's MY adorable little idiot. The show is also just so cute and funny it is a big guilty pleasure of mine.

9. Lout of Count Family / LCF stupid idea - basically what if Cale Henituse can sing but he only sings the silliest dumbest songs ever in the history of Rowoon. That's it that's the fic.

10. I have a silly idea for a big multicrossover between all the korean light novels i've read and various manhwa and danmei novels. Like, "What if all systems have a chat function and it connects you to other system users." So it would just be a casual chatfic comedy.

That's most the of the ones I could think of! :P

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

ive tried to write women so many times but have failed to the point theres barely any female characters in my stories. and im very aware this is a flaw in my writing because i dont hang around women often and the only long term contact with a female i have is with my family members i dont know how to write female characters on a personal level because i can never relate to them. this sucks ass but correct me if im wrong i think its better to not write female characters at all than write a shitty possibly offensive one even if i dont realize it

Hi.

Okay, here's my take on what you're saying. I know for a fact that the most difficult things to write are things/situations/environments we know so little about. And it's even harder to get it right when it's a more sensitive thing, if yk what I mean. A huge perspective shift like this is definitely a challenge because men and women are quite different.

Here's the thing. I'm not trying to pressure you into writing them, but I'm telling you that even if you have problems with them now, doesn't mean you have to give up on writing them completely. If not writing them at all is your final decision, then that's still okay, still your call in the end, but if you do want to write them, it's very possible.

I know I write both male and female characters, but the first time I ever officially wrote smth that wasn't for school, it was with a female protag because ultimately, I see the world from the eyes of a woman. When I decided to write a male character for a more serious project, I realised I needed to research it. And lemme tell you that again, not every piece of advice in a writing help article is always applicable. It's largely based on the author's own personal experiences. They're more like tips than rules you must adhere to.

Please note that I've spent considerable time around men I'm close to in my family, I had male classmates and currently have a friend who's a guy, so that definitely helps. And it's completely understandable that you haven't spent enough time around women to grasp more about them Ig. My male characters are not exactly copy-paste of these men/boys either, but some of their traits and mannerisms may be connected.

And you not relating to them is completely okay. I'm not very likely to relate to parts of my male character's life that come with him being a man, but what I can relate to is what makes him human. There is definitely an overlap in several traits between men and women. For example, the way I would feel angry abt smth would be different from how a guy Ik would feel angry about the same thing. The key is simply to avoid bad cliches.

Again, I'm not trying to get you to write them if you really don't want to. Forcing yourself to write smth you don't want to definitely won't help, and won't create good pieces of writing. But just in case you wish to in the future, you can practice and research and test it out, and fun fact, part of it involves a little bit of winging it. I've done this for like genres/ideas I haven't tried before, and surprisingly it actually works. But, tbf, it's a lot more difficult when the issue at hand is the opposite gender.

And answering your last question, while it doesn't mean you must give up completely and you will never be able to do it, I can agree that no representation is better than a poorly represented character. Though, there is a chance you might be too harsh on yourself, since Idk exactly what any female characters you've written are like.

And about my reblog on that post abt writing women, Ig it was more aimed at people who've never tried or misrepresent women by applying a crap ton of harmful stereotypes to them. You seem to have made a genuine effort, so that's a pretty good thing.

Sorry for the long post, and thank you for the ask.

[diznam]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

Oh! Thank you for such a great and difficult question!

A looong text awaits heh (and I could certainly write even more!!)

I think I'll limit myself to only one character per fictional universe, and I'll only choose from internationally famous works to make it easier. I will surely forget someone and I will never be able to choose if I think it over for too long... So, without contemplating too much, and in no particular order (except for the first one), i'll go with this:

1. Dustfinger from Inkheart -- This man was probs my first fictional crush ever and my forever nostalgic number one. He's a morally gray character, deeply troubled, kind, selfish, painfully human, but also gorgeously magical. Oh, and fire loves him. Can’t beat it. Even though for children, Cornelia Funke writes and illustrates beautifully. If you haven’t read any books of hers, you should try one!

2. Fred and George Weasley (yes i'm sorry but I will write them as one unit) from Harry Potter -- Need I say more than that they make everyone laugh in times of darkness? As the youngest, and only daughter among numerous siblings, I relate a lot to Ginny, and really love these two - the ultimate big brothers.

3. Monkey D. Luffy from One Piece -- The perfect paradoxical mix of incredibly selfish but with a huge heart. Luffy just lifts everyones spirits, and he's so stupid, ambitious, and wholesome that you can’t not love him. As someone who has a hard time being impulsive and living in the now, I find him so terrific and almost inspiring.

4. Sokka from Avatar the Last Airbender -- Underrated character. I would've never claimed him as my favourite when I was little (especially since i was mad for Katara), but as an adult I’ve come to see just how fuckin awesome he really is. Like, he's funny, kind, relatable, smart, strong, brave and just an all around realistic character. Love. Also, I think I just automatically love all the kind big brothers that remind me of my own ones (♡)

5. Jace Herondale from The Mortal Instruments -- Could have just as well written Will Herondale here, but I’m not going to write two Herondales on the list (especially since they are VERY similar. Will is a book nerd tho, which is like the ultimate perk). Anyways, so, after Dustfinger, my second fictional love was Jace I think. Attractive, strong, sarcastic, troubled, kind, LOVING, and with such character development and ambition. Ya. Just so so good. I think I mostly focused on his hotness as a 13 y.o tho -.-

6. Peeta Mellark from The Hunger Games -- Honestly, I just love him because he shows how truly important and helpful kindness is. Loyalty, kindness and bravery - this man has them all. Plus he's a friggin baker and an artist. Like, come on, how lovely can you get??

7. John Watson from BBC's Sherlock -- Another example of a profoundly realistic character. I thought first about writing Sherlock's name, but I think I might actually love John more. He’s just so complex, but at the same time real simple. And surprisingly funny. Much, I attribute to Martin Freeman's amazing acting skills, but yeah, John's awesome.

8. Katsuki Bakugou from Boku no hero academia -- Honestly, I'm questioning myself putting him on this list, but I think he deserves a spot simply for the fact that his character development is So. Fucking. Good. Almost as good as Zuko's from atla. And he deserves a spot purely because surely the amount of fanfics I've read starring him must be telling me something.

9. Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood -- Ah, okay, so once again an older sibling who is funny, strong, kind, brave, energetic, troubled, and who loves so painstakingly strongly (I'm starting to see a pattern here...). Idk, but I just really like him. And I felt like I had to include someone from Fmab because the show slaps.

10. Victoria Spring from Solitaire (and the Osemanverse in general) -- Honestly, Tori is just such a great character, because in all her melancholy, depression and numbness, you can still find so much to love about her when reading from her perspective. Also, shes an older sibling who adores and takes great care of her little siblings. I've struggled a lot with mental illness, and I can teally relate to both Tori and Charlie's problems. So finding that I can love these two characters so much despite all their issues, makes me realise that maybe I can like myself a little bit more too

THAT WAS TEN! I could easily write more, but I’m gonna stop myself now. Sorry if this was a lot longer than you expected, but I really liked this question.

Thank you for asking it! Hope you got what you wanted. Have a great day/night wherever you are :) <3

[seitmai]

There was no way in hell you could put up with this for much longer. You wanted to leave, it was escaping that was the problem. The other night acts felt pity for you, but they also had to make ends meet. Assistance came with a risk, whether it was losing a huge chunk of their income or worse, facing his wrath. Same with the bartenders, the bottle girls. Looking the other way was much safer. Besides, you weren’t the first they’ve seen in this situation. Won’t be the last either. 

This is heartbreaking but a difficult situation... i get the position of the other girls too, you have to keep yourself safe before helping someone else

The thought of the blue eyed man brought a sense of warmth to your body. How such a kind man ended up working as the bodyguard of a gang was a mystery, how he kept that kindness even moreso. His boss Maverick had been a repeat customer for several months now. Where they went, Bob followed. He always made sure to comment on how well you did up on stage, even sneaking you a tip. Bob had the sweetest smile you ever saw; pink lips forming into a thin, slightly lopsided grin, the corners of his eyes subtly creasing. He didn't smile during his shifts, just with you. 

That sweet, sweet man 🥹

Jake, always eager to please Maverick (and annoy Bradley) was more than happy to take him, Javy, Mickey, and Natasha over. They were a well oiled machine; Bob would find and corner him, Jake would ask the questions directly to the traitor, Javy and Mickey were there for muscle while Nat was getting the real answers from others and looking into their systems if need be. 

I love that Nat is the absolute brain of their team 🤭

Bob couldn't lie, it felt good to slam him against the wall. Make him feel a tenth of the pain he caused you. It would never be enough, not unless he saw Simpson six feet under. 

Well, I won't argue with that 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bob knelt down, his hands near yours, but not quite touching. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. Normally his special nickname would bring a smile to your face, but you were too ashamed of how he found you. What a fucking pathetic site. 

🥺🥺🥺

"Dove," he repeated, his voice now soft, barely above a whisper, "Who did this to you?" He knows the answer and has for months now. It's the confirmation he needs. But it's also the hope that maybe with your confirmation, he could help you begin to heal.

Him asking even though he knows it, does something for me 🫣🤭

 It was easy for your mind to think of Bob when you were with your partner. It was easy to think of those surprisingly soft blue eyes. In bed, you did your best to pretend it was his hands touching your body. It was an escape. A fantasy you indulged in as a desperate  attempt to not think about your current situation. 

💔💔💔

When you still didn't move, Bob’s hands trailed down your face, landing on your shoulders. He kneeled down, looking into your eyes, “Can I help you? Please?”

Not the please 🥹🫠

 “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” He confessed, the tops of his cheeks turning a dusty pink. The admission made your heart flutter. Despite his job requiring a cold, hardened demeanor, a kindness shone through. 

🥹🥹🥹

Choices. You had multiple choices to choose from. When was the last time that had happened? 

This says so much ❤️‍🩹

Bob’s heart sank. If you wanted to walk out of this place, he'd burned your contract in a heartbeat. He couldn't blame you for desiring it either. But selfishly, he wanted you to stay. He wanted to hear your voice, see your smile, and speak without having to walk on eggshells in case a certain someone was listening. 

He is in love, without knowing it probably

“I think he will. He’ll probably give the place to either Jake or Bradley, either one of them will do a good job just to piss off the other,”

Lol that sounds about right 😅

When Bob Floyd laughs, the corners of his eyes creased and he threw his head back. It was the sweetest discovery. It was also the first time you truly laughed, full belly, that day. Probably the first time in weeks. Lightness flooded your body, despite the bruises and cuts that currently marked it. 

Belly laughing Bob Floyd is a sight to be seen 🥰

“No,” your voice shook like a leaf in the wind, “Please- don't leave me!” His fingers stroked your cheeks in an attempt to bring comfort, “I’ll be back, okay? But I gotta go in order to protect you. I don’t want him or one of those goons to find ya.”

This ending stresses me tf out 🥴

Excited to read more of these two!🤗

Drowning in the Light Part 1

Summary: Once excited about your job as a lounge singer, now you can barely get through it, thanks to your less than charming boyfriend. Can a blue eyed bodyguard pull you out of a horrible situation? Or are you both doomed by the life you chose?

Warning: extensive talk to domestic abuse (not by Bob), language, guns, mob bodyguard Bob AU

Sharp pain seared throughout your body, starting at your legs, bruised from kicks, up to your shoulders, sore from being shoved against a wall. Then your head, God, your head. You must have hit something when you got knocked down. 

The throbbing pain surrounding your right eye was familiar. From past experience, you knew it would be bruised, no need to look in the mirror. But the sharp, stinging pain near your scalp was new. Gently, you placed your fingers on the area, feeling something wet. 

Blood. 

You should get up, take care of yourself, try to leave before the man responsible for it all comes back. But instead, all you could do was curl into a ball. 

It wasn't always like this. 

For as long as you could remember, you wanted to sing. Selling out Madison Square Garden wasn't your end goal. No, you were content to land a job where you could sing at the same place every night. No more wedding gigs that took up your entire weekend. No more supplementing your income with that lousy waitressing job. Plus, the owner was sweet on you. 

At first. 

Slowly, you sat yourself up, thankful the pain in your arms from a few days ago has subsided. It wasn't fun wearing long sleeves in late spring, but you didn't have the time to cover it up with makeup. No, you were now far too busy helping run the club, despite making almost no money from it. After all, who was going to restock the bar? Clearly not the owner. Nor would he clean up the room he just destroyed.  Chairs had been knocked over. A now broken bottle of Bourbon had clearly been smashed against the wall, the scent burning your nostrils. 

But no sign of the man who was the cause of all this. 

Looking back, the red flags were obvious, but at the time, they were easy to ignore. You were living your dream and had found someone who supported it. That was all you wanted since moving away from your family to pursue your ambitions. 

So what if he got a little jealous when you spoke to male patrons? It was easy to calm him down and besides, you quickly learned to be on the lookout for him. When he suggested you stop interacting with your family, it seemed to come with good intentions. They had never supported your dreams and their phone calls always ended with an offer to pay for graduate school, scoffing at the possibility you were truly happy. 

In retrospect, it’s possible they saw the red flags you were blind to. 

Moving in together was a no brainer. It meant you could quit your temp office job that you did only to make ends meet. It also made sense why you were giving part of your paycheck to him, to help cover household expenses. 

You were now lucky if you could stash away a few dollars from your nightly tips before he got to it. 

Running a club was stressful, especially one where clients did seedy business. They never harmed you or other patrons, unless provoked (by someone who had too much liquid courage and not enough wits about them). He started off just yelling, which then turned into shoving, which had now turned into you lying on the floor of your dressing room, surrounded by destruction. 

So you didn't get up right away. Your eyes remained closed as you attempted to block out the sounds of an argument on the first floor. Your so-called "boyfriend" was probably giving some bullshit excuse as to why he was unable to pay someone on time. 

Again. 

Tonight, you had interrupted to offer a much better reason as to why he couldn't pay a vendor on time. You even got an extension, something the club desperately needed. Can’t run a place like this without alcohol, after all. 

But that wasn't good enough. You made him look incompetent, stupid. Like he couldn't manage his own lounge. It was the truth, one that everyone could see, but making it known was a sin. You knew it would be bad with the way he grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you back to your dressing room, ignoring the stares of onlookers. 

This was a new low for him. Funny how he kept surprising you, even a year later. 

Sounds of men talking downstairs were muffled, probably one of the many seedy customers who stayed past closing to discuss less than legal matters. They were loud tonight and you'd probably have to clean up whatever mess they were making. After all, your boyfriend was far too busy to help. 

But first you had to clean up yourself. Standing up was painful, your knees throbbing from being pushed onto the hard wooden floor earlier. If things kept the way they were going, you would need a walking cane before you turned forty. 

There was no way in hell you could put up with this for much longer. You wanted to leave, it was escaping that was the problem. The other night acts felt pity for you, but they also had to make ends meet. Assistance came with a risk, whether it was losing a huge chunk of their income or worse, facing his wrath. Same with the bartenders, the bottle girls. Looking the other way was much safer. Besides, you weren’t the first they’ve seen in this situation. Won’t be the last either. 

The broken mirror encapsulated the damage done to your body. Your tights were now torn, a sleeve ripped, revealing the constellation of healing bruises on your arm. The skin around your right eye was swollen, no doubt turning into a blackened bruise by tomorrow. Some of the blood near your scalp had begun to dry. That would be a pain to hide. Applying makeup would run the risk of infection. Perhaps you could come up with a believable excuse, should Bob ask. 

Bobby. 

The thought of the blue eyed man brought a sense of warmth to your body. How such a kind man ended up working as the bodyguard of a gang was a mystery, how he kept that kindness even moreso. His boss Maverick had been a repeat customer for several months now. Where they went, Bob followed. He always made sure to comment on how well you did up on stage, even sneaking you a tip. Bob had the sweetest smile you ever saw; pink lips forming into a thin, slightly lopsided grin, the corners of his eyes subtly creasing. He didn't smile during his shifts, just with you. 

His beautiful smile entered your mind quite often. It was the nicest thing you’d see all day. Yes, you were in a relationship, but it’s not like you were in love with the guy. No, if you had a choice, it would be Bob, the man who always spoke respectfully to you, always asked how you were doing, always genuine. 

But you didn’t deserve a guy like Bob Floyd. Before, you hoped for luck. That you’d finally win this time and be happy. Be loved. 

What a fucking joke. 

Wetness began to form around your eyes. Looking up, your reflection revealed eyes brimming with tears. A year ago, you rarely cried. Now it happens almost every day. You had become numb to it, barely registering as you grabbed a tissue, trying not to physically wince as you blotted the open wound. 

It was time to fix yourself. Stuff it all down and go out and sing. Just like you did every other night. 

**

Bob Floyd had always been quiet. Truth was, he preferred to mind his own business and not get in anyone’s way. Ironic, considering his job. 

He didn’t want to do this. But when his father died and left Bob, his mother, and his four other penniless, his sixteen year old self knew something needed to change. Temporary, he had told himself, it would be temporary. Enough to get his family back on their feet. Besides, it was more de-escalating situations rather than causing them. Usually his stern voice and presence was enough to deter folks, meaning the amount of times he had to resort to violence was rare. 

It was supposed to be a temporary job. 

But he was good at it. He got promotions, more money, more stability for his family. He was able to send his mother back to school, giving his family a better life. When Iceman retired, Bob was kept on for the new generation due to his valuable knowledge and established connections. 

Jake called him a stealth pilot. Quietly lurking, observing. Taking mental notes to share later, keeping track of every detail. It was how Bob realized what was going on with the lounge singer. 

Bob had been going to the club with Jake and the rest of the crew for almost a year now. Maverick wanted to keep a low profile, so he sent the latest recruits who had proven themselves. The first sign was how the light had steadily left your eyes, even when you were singing. When Bob first met you, you were like a ray of sunshine, eyes bright, smile radiant. 

Then came the tense arguments with the owner. Bob could never hear them but he could tell from your face afterwards it wasn't a two way street. 

Bob didn't hate most people. But he fucking hated Beau Simpson. 

It was obvious he didn't treat you well. Bob noticed how prevalent bruises had become on your arms, how often you ‘bumped into something' to explain a black eye. No person could be that clumsy. 

So when Simpson had come up short on payment again, Bob didn't show mercy. 

“Isn't this the fifth time he's been late? Why don’t we go down and talk to him?” Bob suggested to Jake. 

Jake, always eager to please Maverick (and annoy Bradley) was more than happy to take him, Javy, Mickey, and Natasha over. They were a well oiled machine; Bob would find and corner him, Jake would ask the questions directly to the traitor, Javy and Mickey were there for muscle while Nat was getting the real answers from others and looking into their systems if need be. 

The coward made eye contact with Bob and then swiftly turned around, no doubt attempting to avoid him. What a fucking joke. Bob hated this was the guy you were tangled up with. 

So yeah, maybe he should have used his voice before putting his hands on Simpson. A saying his mother always told him and his siblings, her school teacher career showing. 

She also still thought Bob worked in construction. 

Bob couldn't lie, it felt good to slam him against the wall. Make him feel a tenth of the pain he caused you. It would never be enough, not unless he saw Simpson six feet under. 

But when he came into the doorway of your dressing room, the rage disappeared. It was gone the moment he saw you hunched over the vanity, applying makeup despite the steam of tears on your face. 

"Dove?"  

As soon as you turned your head, he made way to the vanity, carefully stepping over broken glass and knocked down chairs.  

Bob knelt down, his hands near yours, but not quite touching. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. Normally his special nickname would bring a smile to your face, but you were too ashamed of how he found you. 

What a fucking pathetic site. 

"Dove," he repeated, his voice now soft, barely above a whisper, "Who did this to you?" 

He knows the answer and has for months now. It's the confirmation he needs. But it's also the hope that maybe with your confirmation, he could help you begin to heal. 

The name was on the tip of your tongue. But that would mean admitting it. Not just that he hurt you. But the fact that you had become some pathetic singer who was stuck with an obvious piece of shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. When you first started working here, it was full of excitement. 

It was easy for your mind to think of Bob when you were with your partner. It was easy to think of those surprisingly soft blue eyes. In bed, you did your best to pretend it was his hands touching your body. It was an escape. A fantasy you indulged in as a desperate  attempt to not think about your current situation. 

Like he would want to be with you! You were a liability. You didn't deserve him. 

That didn't stop your heart from fluttering when you felt his fingers gently cup your face, tilting your head up to look at him. His fingers were calloused. You knew what his hands were capable of, having witnessed him sling punches, like they were nothing. 

But Bob Floyd’s touch was soft. You could feel them on your face, but he refrained from adding pressure. And gentle, oh so gentle. He avoided the bruise that was forming near your right eye. The way his thumb gently stroked your mascara stained cheek was comforting. 

Soft. Gentle. Comforting. 

When was the last time you felt any of that from someone touching you? It was a foreign concept, one you so desperately chased that you were willing to ignore the bright, beaming red flags and run head first into danger. 

By all means, he should be seen as a danger. A huge scarlet flag. His 'job' required him to oversee and commit violent, illegal acts. He didn't hide it. And with those expensive suits, rings, and those dark eyes, he looked almost like the Devil, ready to trick you into signing your soul away. 

But he wasn't like that. At least, not to you. A sweet smile, reserved only for a selective few. Eyes that pierced through your soul. His presence brought an ease to you. 

He leaned in, his forehead almost touching yours. A battle of emotions was going through his eyes. Rage. Anger. Concern. It felt nice for someone to be concerned about you. 

"Did Simpson do this to you?” He asked, voice barely above a  whisper. 

When you nodded, it felt like a weight being lifted off your chest. Finally, someone else knew. 

Bob’s jaw tensed as he nodded his head in understanding, "And was he responsible for all the other injuries you've had?" 

He did notice. Why he was paying attention to you, some lowly singer, was beyond your comprehension. 

You nodded your head, tears filling your eyes, "It's…..it's all been him, Bobby." 

He nodded, the tension in his jaw remaining. He wanted to say so much, but knew what was most important: you. Your safety. 

"Let's get you cleaned up Dove," He said softly, standing up. He stuck out his hand, clearly gesturing for you to take it. 

It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. His large hand felt like a peace offering, a shining lighthouse in the midst of the dark, bleary night. But taking it meant Bob would now be involved. You didn't want that, couldn't have that. If he found out….sure, Bob could take care of himself. But you would feel guilty if anything were to happen to him. Besides, what would happen to you? What if Simpson found out? The beating would probably send you to the emergency room. Even worse, it probably meant you wouldn't get to see Bob anymore. 

You needed that lopsided smile and kind eyes to get through the nights. The thought of not seeing them scared the shit out of you. 

"You need a first aid kit, not concealer," Bob explained, sensing your hesitation. 

So sensible. But you didn't have time for any of that. Shaking your head, you turned back to the vanity, “I have to go on soon.” 

“We shut down the place. Need Simpson to explain why he's gone two months without paying us.” 

When you still didn't move, Bob’s hands trailed down your face, landing on your shoulders. He kneeled down, looking into your eyes, “Can I help you? Please?” 

"Bob, it's not worth it. I don't…if he finds out…” The very thought of what could happen made your eyes brim with tears.  

You were right to be hesitant. Bob wished he could scoop you up into his arms and take you far away from this place. For now, first aid would have to be done and he needed you to see that. 

“Dove, I can make sure he never touches you again, if that's what you want.” God, he hoped you wanted that, “But getting cleaned up is the bare minimum of what you need. And the least I can do after not saying anything earlier.”

So he had noticed all the bruises you tried to cover up. How the light in your eyes only came back when you were up on stage singing or talking to him. He noticed how quickly that light drained from your eyes, how fear replaced it at the sight of Simpson. Bob should have said something earlier, instead of waiting so long.

Never again. 

You didn’t know this at the time. But something, deep in the back of your mind- call it hope or wishful thinking-told you he meant it. 

So you took his hand. He could see you limping and placed an arm around your waist, allowing you to put your weight on him. Sage flooded your nostrils, his scent comforting. Bob led you to  the couch in the Manager's office, walking away to find the first aid kit. It was quiet, but not in an awkward way. You enjoyed it, to be truthful. So much of your life was loud, violent, chaotic. To sit in peace was refreshing. Though you couldn't help but look at the door, the thought of anyone being able to come in at the back of your mind. 

“He's not going to come up. Mickey and Javy are currently holding him down while he answers Jake,” Bob commented, not even bothering to look up from the first aid kit. 

How did he know? The question was soon replaced by another one, “Why aren't you down there with them?” 

Bob made his way to the couch, gently laying the kit on the coffee table, rummaging as he picked up sanitation wipes. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” He confessed, the tops of his cheeks turning a dusty pink. The admission made your heart flutter. Despite his job requiring a cold, hardened demeanor, a kindness shone through. 

You witnessed it the first time Bob met you. Oh, you had seen him beforehand. It was hard not to miss the tall handsome man with the piercing blue eyes, clad in a well fitted suit. The top of his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver chain that reflected against the lights. 

God, he was so attractive. Still is. It was your first day on the job and the last thing you wanted to do was ruffle one of the patrons. Beau had warned you that they would leave you alone as long as you did the same. 

Looking back, you wondered if his advice had other intentions, more self serving ones that out of kindness. You tried to follow his advice, situating yourself near the bathroom while waiting for your cue. Once the previous act waves goodbye, you knew it was time to move. But God, you were so nervous that day! So nervous that you were too busy inspecting your dress for any possible wrinkles instead of looking up. 

Your head ran into a firm chest, large hands quickly stabilized your body. When you looked up, you found yourself face to face with Bob Floyd. 

Instead of a scowl, there was a small smile on his face as he asked, “You alright ma'am?” 

You had been smitten ever since. Keeping a distance made sense, he didn’t deserve you. Which is why you brushed it off as just a silly crush and looked elsewhere for affection. 

“Whatcha thinking about Dove?” Bob asked before gingerly applying the sanitizing wipes to your forehead. 

“The day we met. You were so sweet, making sure that I was okay and wishing me good luck,” you spoke fondly of the memory, sharing a smile with him, “I think about that day often.” 

“I do too,” he confessed, making your heart flutter once again. It made you want to explain, want to tell him everything that had happened. 

“I....it's all been going on for a year. It wasn't bad at first. Like yeah, he would yell at me, but he'd apologize afterwards. At first he’d just grip my shoulders real hard. Then he'd shove me out of the way. But he would still apologize to me afterwards. Sometimes he'd even get me flowers. I knew business was rough, so I convinced myself it wasn't personal,” you paused, “I must sound so fucking dumb.” 

“No. There's nothing wrong with wanting to see the best in someone,” Bob mumbled as he shifted through the first aid kit, finding the right size gauze, "Doesn't make you dumb."

“That's what I kept telling myself when it got worse. Over time, he’d stopped apologizing. Made me feel bad, like it was my fault. And I knew it wasn't, but I didn't want to set him off again. By the time I realized it wasn't going to get better, it was too late. Did you know you need ID to enter those shelters? Can't get in if you don't have it. I've been trying to save up what I can to get a ride back to my hometown, but it's been six months and I don't even have half of what I need,” your cheeks felt wet, no doubt being stained by tears. 

“He takes your earnings too?” Bob asked, trying to contain his anger by clutching a rag in his hand. 

You nodded, “I can only take a little here and there, so he won't notice. I didn't want him to find out and…..” 

A sob escaped your chest. Once it was released, you couldn't stop. Given how often you cried, it shouldn't feel any different. 

But then a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, gently pulling you into a broad chest. Resting your head in the crook of Bob’s neck, you felt a sense of safety for the first time in who knows how long. A soft pair of lips gently pressed against your temple, a thumb caressing your cheek. 

“We can make sure he never touches you again. And we will,” Bob murmured against your skin. 

“How?” you sniffled, “I have a contract and it’s legally binding, I can’t leave.”

He shook his head, “We can take care of that.” Your hands found his, fingers skimming over his long digits, tracing over each ring, every crevice and line. It was comforting, helping you slow down your breathing. 

Bob continued, “Natasha found out he's been running this place dry on purpose to commit  fraud. He doesn't have enough to pay us back, so Jake is gonna make him sign over the place to Maverick.” 

You had heard whispers about Bob’s boss. Apparently he wasn't a fan of Simpson anyways. Not a shocker, the man didn't even try to be pleasant. 

Looking up at Bob, your faces were now inches apart. You could see flecks of gray in his stubble and at his temples. Faded freckles were scattered across his face, like stars in the night. Sandy brown hair that curled at the ends. A button nose that accentuated his pink lips. Did he have freckles else along his body?

“Whatcha looking at Dove?" He asked, a small smile creeping across his face. 

“Just admiring how handsome you are, Bobby." The words left your mouth before your brain could process them. 

You expected him to push you away, to shrug it off.  Instead, his cheeks turned a bright red as he ducked his head into the crook of your neck. You figured that Bob heard it all the time. Besides, he was just being nice, done because he felt bad for you. 

You certainly didn't expect him to become flustered, unable to form a coherent response. His soft lips pressed a kiss against your collarbone. You could feel his smile burn into your skin, like sunshine. When you grabbed his hand, Bob intertwined his fingers with yours.  

Perhaps you weren't the only one who craved affection, for gentle touches.

“You're too sweet for me, Dove.” His breath was hot on your skin, sending a spark of electricity up your spine. 

There was always an unspoken tension between you two. So many maybes. Maybe he should have spoken out sooner. Maybe you should have tried going for Bob rather than settling like always. 

“I feel the same way about you,” it felt good to finally admit it, like a weight leaving your shoulders. For a brief moment, you forgot the circumstances of the situation. For once, it felt normal, as if you two were simply friends who met through work. 

Bob gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before sitting up straight. He studied your face, taking in every mark and line, everything that made you you. Bob also took in the bruise forming around your right eye. 

“We need to ice that eye. I'll be right back okay?” After receiving a nod, he untangled himself from your body, much to his dismay and yours. But he wasn't doing it because you repulsed him, no. Rather, he wanted to take care of you. 

"So will Maverick be the new owner of this place?" You asked, eyes glued to Bob as he moved about in the room. 

"More or less. Though he's still looking for a partner. Someone who can be at the club and help run things," He looked back at you, "Someone who has been working here for a while and was already unofficially running the place." 

You knew damn well who he was referring to. Your lips tightened as a pang of panic peaked through your brain at Bob Floyd’s proposal. Was that why he was doing all this? So he makes a business deal? 

He must have sensed this, as he quickly came back to the couch, bag of ice in hand, "If you want to. If you want to keep on singing here, you can. I also don't blame ya if you want to get the hell outta here." 

Choices. You had multiple choices to choose from. When was the last time that had happened? 

"What are you going to do to him?" It was haunting your mind. Was it worth staying here if you would always have to look over your shoulder? 

Bob leaned in, his hand gently touching your knee, avoiding the bruises, "Whatever you want us to do." 

Whatever? 

"If you want me to put him six feet under, I'll do it," He elaborated, "If you want me to scare him off, make sure he never comes within twenty feet of ya, I can do that too." 

More choices. It was your problem, you should have a say in how it was solved. 

"It's up to you Dove," He said, his thumb softly stroking your knee. 

You liked his touch. You wanted more of it. He was so gentle. 

"I want…..I want him gone Bobby. I want to never worry about whether he'll show his face again," You revealed. The idea of it being a threat, always looming in the shadows, was terrifying. How could one expect you to sleep soundly at night? 

Bob nodded his head. He leaned in and gingerly pressed the bag of ice to the corner of your eye. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he saw you wince, “It's going to hurt a little, but the cooling will help with the bruising.” 

“It would be nice to sing again and actually enjoy it. You think Maverick can actually turn this place around?” You placed your hand on his wrist. Bob wanted nothing more than to take yours and kiss your soft skin. 

That would be taking it too far. Yes, ironic, considering he already kissed your temple and collarbone. Was a collarbone kiss more intimate than a wrist kiss? Or was it the other way around? 

“Bobby?” A soft, sweet giggle fell from your lips upon seeing how his brows knitted together when he was in deep concentration. 

“Sorry Dove, what did you say?” Bob asked sheepishly. He didn't know what was worse, confessing he was distracted by your beauty or that he was thinking about kissing your body. 

“Do you think Maverick will turn this place around? Not trying to doubt your boss, but if it's just seen as a way to get back at Simpson….I don't know if I'd want to stay.” 

Bob’s heart sank. If you wanted to walk out of this place, he'd burned your contract in a heartbeat. He couldn't blame you for desiring it either. But selfishly, he wanted you to stay. He wanted to hear your voice, see your smile, and speak without having to walk on eggshells in case a certain someone was listening. 

“I think he will. He’ll probably give the place to either Jake or Bradley, either one of them will do a good job just to piss off the other,” Bob chuckled, “Besides, he doesn't want the transfer to be a big deal, so I don't see him firing folks, other than those that are loyal to Simpson. Which isn't that many. Maybe three?” Bob scratched his head, trying to think of the actual number. 

You snorted, “Three's a pretty generous number.” 

When Bob Floyd laughs, the corners of his eyes creased and he threw his head back. It was the sweetest discovery. It was also the first time you truly laughed, full belly, that day. Probably the first time in weeks. Lightness flooded your body, despite the bruises and cuts that currently marked it. 

“And if Maverick owns it, I'll be here more. I can make sure you're safe. If that's what you want!” Bob added the last part quickly. You had just gotten out of a relationship from hell, one that involved controlling behavior. The last thing he wanted was for you to think similarly of him. 

Your lips stretched into a smile, “I'd like that…to see you more. Whenever you came to visit, it was always the highlight of my day.” 

Bob couldn't help but beam, his heart fluttering at a pace that should be medically concerning, “I felt the same about you Dove.” 

Upon receiving a bright smile from you,  Bob removed the bag of ice from your face, fingers delicately skimming over the bruised skin. It was as good as it was going to get. He would be happy to help you ice it later, if that's what you wanted. Bob would give you the world if he could. 

Gathering all the courage he had (ironic considering he's killed people before), he leaned in, allowing his lips to press against your cheek. This time, it wasn't stained with tears or smudged makeup. A refreshing change that Bob hoped he could help keep. 

You leaned into his touch, fingers finding purchase in the lapels of his black jacket. Looking up, your noses brushed, his lips inches away from yours, if that. 

You could stay like this forever. In his arms, you felt safe. You felt like you could joke and laugh and be yourself. 

Knowing how soft his lips were made you wonder how they’d feel against your own. It wasn't the first time this thought flashed through your brain. But it was the first time you were close enough to find out. 

Simpson will be gone, Bob would make sure of that. There wasn’t anyone to fear, you could just lean in and-

A loud knock interrupted the sweet moment. Fear swept through your body as you buried your face into Bob’s chest. 

He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before telling you to get in the corner, right behind the mini fridge.  You did as you were told, crouching down to make yourself invisible to whoever walked through the door. 

In your position you could see Bob, pulling out the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants. He quickly cocked it as he moved swiftly towards the door. It was locked but that didn’t deter people here. 

“Floyd, you in there?” A familiar voice rang out on the other side. Relief flooded your body at the sound of Natasha’s voice. She was a rare sight, working more behind the scenes. It must be pretty bad if they brought her in. 

But Bob remained silent, back pressed to the wall, gun in hand. He couldn’t take any risks. Not when it came to your safety. The way he effortlessly demonstrated his care made you wish that Natasha had waited twenty seconds before knocking. 

“The rodeo is all cleared,” Nat said. At the sound of their code word, Bob let out a sigh of relief. With his gun still in one hand (just in case), he opened the door, revealing the dark haired woman, who also had a matching gun in hand. 

“We finally got him to sign over the place. Now we’re figuring out what to do with him. Got any ideas?” She asked with a smirk. 

Bob turned to your direction, as you were now standing by the couch, “I think that’s her decision. She had to bear the brunt of him after all.”

Natasha peered over, taking in your bruises and cuts. She nodded, to silently show her understanding, “What would you like?”

You had a choice. What even was the right thing in this scenario? Was it letting someone live, despite all their wrongdoings? Or was it preventing him from hurting anyone else? The blood wouldn’t be on your hands, literally. But you still played a part. 

“I….I want him gone. To not be able to come back to this place and hurt people. You guys know how to do that better than I do.” 

You saw them nodding to each other. They had probably made a decision. It was obvious what was going to happen, but you didn't say it out loud. Does that relieve you of some responsibility? 

Maybe. Probably not. But it made you feel better inside. 

“You wanna come atch?” Natasha asked, motioning to you and Bob. 

Seeing you shake your head, Bob mimicked, “I'll stay up here with her. Make sure she's all cleaned up.” 

You sat down on the couch, waiting for Natasha to leave. It warmed your heart that Bob chose to stay with you. Maybe he also felt it too, that spark of kismet that circuited back and forth. 

Bob kneeled down in front of you, eyes and hands inspecting your arms and your legs. His gentle touch left goosebumps along your skin. You shifted to the edge of the couch, clearly to help him inspect the rest of your wounds. 

No other reason. 

“I gotta clean up this scrape, don't want it to get infected.” A lovely gesture, considering you didn't make enough money to qualify for health insurance. 

You nodded your head. His large hand placed itself on the back of your leg, the other gently pressing a wipe against the cut. 

“You'll hear a gunshot pretty soon,” he warned, not wanting you to be alarmed. You nodded, bracing yourself for the imminent noise. 

Except you didn't hear a gunshot. You heard several voices arguing. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” 

“Get him!” 

“Get the gun!” 

Then, you heard a gunshot. 

“God dammit,” Bob cursed under his breath. His eyes darted to the door that Natasha left a hair open. 

He moved quickly, not even waiting for you to stand up. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, the other underneath your thighs and picked you up. He carried you to the closest, gently sitting you down in the dark space. 

“I’ll be right back, Dove. But I need you to stay here. I'm going to lock the other door, but don't open it to anyone. Even if you hear my voice, don't open it unless I use the rodeo, okay?” His voice was hushed, his ocean eyes piercing your soul. 

He was leaving. A fight had broken out when they tried to off Cyclone. Started by either him or his two loyal goons. Bob was going to leave you. 

He might not come back. 

“No,” your voice shook like a leaf in the wind, “Please- don't leave me!” 

His fingers stroked your cheeks in an attempt to bring comfort, “I’ll be back, okay? But I gotta go in order to protect you. I don’t want him or one of those goons to find ya.”

In the distance, a familiar voice yelled out your name. A voice that made your blood turn to ice. 

Bob was operating off of adrenaline, off of the primal need to protect you. Desire was coursing through him as well. Your tears were for him, not because he brought you pain but rather you cared so much for him that the thought of him not returning tugged on your heart strings. He wanted to wait, to make sure you were ready and then take you out on a nice date. 

The nice Italian place that was secretly a front for Slider’s real business. Despite being a front, it made some of the best penne alla vodka in town. 

But a nice date wasn't at the forefront of Bob’s mind currently. Rather, it was your lips and how they were quivering, how soft they looked. 

His mama would smack him upside the head if she could see him now, kissing a girl he hadn’t taken out on a date yet. 

She would also smack the shit out of him for lying about his job all these years. 

Bob was too lost in the softness of your lips. Your hands found their way into his soft hair, gripping the strands to deepen the kiss. His lips were so soft, his hands gentle as they cupped your jawline, as though he didn’t want to apply additional pressure, as though he didn’t want to cause you any harm. 

You truly believed that was his intent. 

The kiss seemed to go on forever, but simultaneously not long enough. Sounds of heavy footsteps and yelling in the hallway caused him to break away. Your hands remained on the lapels of his jacket, silently begging him. 

Please. Don't go. Stay with me. Please. 

“I'll be back, okay Dove?” he whispered before pressing a quick kiss to your lips once more. He removed your hands from the lapels, silently standing up. Bob paused for a brief moment, for what you hoped (in vain) was him considering staying. Instead, he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders. 

You wanted to shout, but that would be deadly. All you could do was watch Bob close the door, listen to the sound of his gun cocking and then a second door closing. 

Left in the dark. Alone. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you tried rocking yourself back and forth, silently willing the tears building up to go away. 

They still fell. 

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Moving Forward - Chapter 15

*Warning Adult Content*

Mates

They'd fallen asleep on the porch,but Max woke up in his bed with a heavy arm over his waist and a warm presence claiming his back.

He hummed, turning over in the covers and then nuzzling into the crook of Kyle's neck, over the scarred imprint of his teeth.

There was still a little bit of bruising but that would fade over the day with the assistance of Kyle's werewolf healing.

It took a moment for Max to suppress the urge the poke the faint yellowish-green blemish and he moved to press his face into Kyle's chest.

This was what Max wanted.

For the rest of the week, month, year, for as long as it would last because there couldn't be anything better, apart from shifting.

But that was in a different category and couldn't really compare to moments like this.

Moments when it was still early morning and the sun was just beginning to banish the cold from the night before and the heat of the man next to him was radiating throughout the bed.

When he was awake before the man who'd claimed him as his mate and could spend as long as he wanted examining those strong, handsome features.

It was surprisingly difficult not to touch Kyle's face, to not trace those high cheekbones and strong jawline and heavy brow with the lightest touch he could.

It took a moment for Max to realise Kyle's smothering dark eyes were open.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice clogged and husky with sleep.

"Just looking," Max murmured.

In the quiet moment, neither man moved, Kyle apparently content to let Max stare with his feline yellowish-green eyes.

The moment probably would've lasted longer if there hadn't been a howl.

Kyle sat up with just enough urgency to dislodge Max from his arms.

"One of yours?" Max asked, voice low and cautious, despite not moving from where he fell.

It took a moment for Kyle to answer, his eyes flickering as he examined the howl and then he shook his head.

"Not one of mine."

Nothing was said between the pair, even as they left the bed with their hands entwined and stepped out into the open air.

Kyle changed first.

Max waited, keeping watch and then followed River's lead.

Kyle's ears were pushed flat as he went and it was interesting to see how he ran with his head lowered.

Max tended to lower his head anyway but Kyle was close enough now for Max to see him move with more caution and urgency than usual.

They ran quickly, heading in a different direction than what Max was used to.

His claws hadn't marked the trees here, his scent hadn't been left here.

Even as they went, Max couldn't help allowing the scent glands on his paws to leave their mark.

It didn't take long for Max to take to the trees, bounding through the denser branches to conserve the energy he was sure he'd need in the following events.

The trees began to space out a bit.

Not enough to prevent Max from running through them but just enough to make him a little more wary about where he trod and then they stopped.

In front of him was a clearing larger than that of his own home and in the middle of it was basically a mansion.

A huge, mostly clean, white mansion.

Max wasn't sure what he was supposed to do and hesitated to come down.

A few seconds passed before Kyle noticed that Max had stopped and turned around, loping right back.

Pawing at the tree Max was in, Kyle seemed to think Max was stuck up there.

He wasn't but the encouragement was just enough to make Max leap off of the two story high branch he was perched on.

The pair didn't even have to wait to be allowed entry and Max was thoroughly surprised to not be reprimanded for walking on a clean white marble floor with muddy paws.

Kyle didn't waste time changing back.

He was back on two legs within a minute but Max couldn't confidently say he could do the same.

Besides, this wasn't Max's territory.

He didn't know who lived here and staying in jaguar form was a lot safer than trying to get his body to turn back within five minutes.

Striding with those long, strong legs, Kyle looked, well gorgeous, obviously but also wore a serious expression that no doubt meant he knew something was up, grabbing a pair of trousers somewhere along the way and only stopping for seconds to pull them on.

It was a cue that Max didn't miss whilst walking through the unfamiliar hallways, his lithe body keeping up with Kyle's ridiculous speed without a problem.

With barely any time to look around and examine his surroundings, Max only barely noticed the portraits and landscapes that adorned the walls.

The masterpieces of wolves, howling or running, hung up with pride or the ornate green and gold panelled walls.

The only thing he could really take note of was the constant marble floor that he took extreme caution not to damage with his claws, hence why they were retracted for now.

Then Kyle disappeared through a door, Max close behind, only to find a room filled with wolves, well werewolves, most of them were in human form but there were two or three that still had their fur suit on.

They were staring, Max could feel them staring at him as he followed behind Kyle and Max couldn't help it.

His head sunk low between his shoulders and his ears flicked back.

Universal animal language for 'if you come near me, I will bite'.

One of the wolves began a low growl.

It was quiet but audible and was echoed by another.

It was then that Kyle stepped in and from the expression on his face, he clearly felt that it was not something he should've had to do.

He stood directly in front of Max, blocking him the view of the wolves.

"Mine," Kyle growled, voice little more than a snarl but it was enough for them to back down.

"If any of you have a problem with him, you come to me and I'll give you a reason to back the fuck down."

Those in wolf form whined, the majority in human formed mostly appeared uncomfortable but Max was a little confused.

Where were the wolves that came and found them when they were napping on the porch?

This couldn't have been them.

Max's confusion was dismissed with a hand passing through the fur on his neck, signalling to go.

Once again, he followed Kyle's lead into a bigger hall, one with much more wolves to stare at him, plus Kyle's parents and Carter.

The human to wolf ratio in this room was more even and some, Max noticed from his peripheral, even recognised him.

There were a lot of people here though, managing to make Max feel even more threatened, only reigned in by the sensation of Kyle's hand in his fur.

It looked like a ballroom, with a high ceiling and a dais at one end where the Rivers family were seated in full view of the rest of the pack.

It was like being in the presence of royalty.

As they approached, Amelia gave a bright smile, forcing Max to wonder if she recognised him or his scent.

The question was quickly dismissed.

"Hello Max," she greeted warmly.

That was it, that was all Max needed so that he could ignore the other wolves crowded around the ballroom and give that pleased rolling chuff.

He greeted her with the most gentle headbutt to her leg he could and then sat himself down next to Kyle, prepared to be there for longer than he'd prefer.

River's mother handed her son a shirt and then sat in one of the large chairs on the dais.

Her voice rang through the room as she spoke.

"That howl was not one of ours."