#like um no ask the people you hired instead of me

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Filled with ungodly rage that the professor who didn't hire me had the audacity to email me to ask if I would be interested in coming in from 9-5 two days next week to help clean and organize because I did it last semester and was the only person who came. Like bitch if you wanted help maybe you should've paid the one person who always came in

[greg-montgomery]

the latest hotch x sunshine reader fic?

u think u ate with that?

no.

U DEVOUREDDDDDD. GRRRRRRRRRRR

part 2 now mama i love u so much

bestieee thank you omg!!!! <3 i hope you like part 2!!

part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Spencer took a deep breath staring at his desk. On any other day it would be due to the amount of paperwork waiting for him, but this time it was a cup of his favorite coffee order, a muffin, and a chocolate croissant, all sitting right on top of the report he was working on.

He wasn’t ungrateful for the treats, but he would rather enjoy them if they weren’t accompanied by three pairs of wide eyes looking at him, while searching for answers in return.

Emily threw her head back dramatically. “Come on, give us something.”

“They’re on a date right now, aren’t they? That’s why he left early. I know you know,” Penelope said. “I know you do. Rossi knows too, but he won’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “Every time we ask he says nothing and just…smirks at us.”

“Please, you’re our last hope.”

Spencer took a bite of his muffin and smirked.

“You’re even worse than him,” Emily said and pointed at him.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go hack Hotch’s phone.”

“No, wait!”

--

Was it silly to start planning your wedding on a first date?

Maybe it was; you didn’t care. Because there was no way Aaron was not your future husband.

He did everything perfectly: he picked you up from your house, got you flowers, did not let you touch a door handle, paid for your dinner date, and let you play your music during the car ride.

Aaron also smiled a lot and the sight of it made you melt into your seat. It wasn’t often that a man gave you butterflies by just one look or with the sound of his laughter.

“What are you in the mood for now?”

The last thing you wanted was for the date to end, so instead of suggesting you walk back to his car you made a different offer.

“Let’s get ice cream!”

He chuckled, but you could already tell he would not say no to you. “Okay.”

You were walking side by side and even though you were already falling in love with his warm voice it was hard to pay attention to his words. Your mind was too occupied thinking about his arm swinging next to yours and how bad you wanted to hold hands with him.

Did he want it too? Would he think it’s childish to hold hands?

What if you just…did it?

Life’s too short, you thought and grabbed his hand.

Yes, you had not been paying attention to what he'd been saying but you did notice how he stopped mid-sentence when your hands touched. Was he mad?

Your heart was jumping against your chest, afraid you did something stupid. Aaron was quick to ease your anxiety, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently your hand.

He wanted this too.

He cleared his throat. “So it’s um…a good chance to…”

With the side of your eye, you caught him turning his head to stare at you. You hadn’t wiped the grin off your face from the sudden hand holding yet, and he saw it.

His dimples made an appearance, and as your grin got bigger you noticed he blushed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you giggled.

The sound of Aaron’s phone ringing interrupted your moment.

“Sorry, I have to get this,” he said.

You, of course, didn’t mind. Even though he hadn’t said so himself, you knew he had left right on time – early in Hotch’s terms - from work just for your date. Perks of being best friends with your date’s subordinate was getting to have this kind of inside information.

“Hotchner,” he said sternly.

You stayed quiet.

“What? I didn’t authorize this.”

Oh.

“No. And I trust this won’t happen again.”

Oh…Maybe you liked this side of him a little bit more than you should.

“Thanks,” he said, and hung up. “I’m sorry about that.”

I’m not.

“No, it’s okay! It’s fascinating observing you being a boss.”

“You like observing people?”

“Why, are you interested in hiring me?” you teased.

“Oh, I would never.”

“Why not?” you asked, acting offended.

“I would not be able to focus on a case with you around.”

You took advantage of the fact you were on a sidewalk and stopped walking, turning your body to face him. “And why is that?”

Aaron moved closer and dropped your hand only to cup the side of your head. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek and his eyes on yours made you feel dizzy.

“Because you take my breath away.”

And with his next move he took yours. Maybe you’d actually faint if he didn’t pull you in and place his lips on yours.

Your hands moved to his tie with the intention of pulling him even closer to your body. His kiss was heavenly and you really wouldn’t mind if you were to stay like that forever.

Yeah…there was no way Aaron Hotchner was not your future husband.

[prettyfastcars]

owned | Mob!Lando

Summary: You took the job because the pay was extremely good. Your boss’ reputation didn’t make that much of a difference to you. After all, his kids were who you would be spending most of your time with, not the single father… right? 

Themes: nanny!reader, infidelity, sort of dark!mob!lando, smut, explicit language, possessive!lando, breeding kink (brief)

“I’d like to see you before you leave.” 

It was the same sentence every night. Every single night. And each night, those words tormented you. You felt too much at the same time. Guilt. Shame. Hunger. Lust. More guilt. Anticipation. 

The first night, on your first day many months ago, when he first said those words to you when he came home from work, you thought they were harmless. Maybe a caring father wanting to know how his kids behaved with their nanny on her first day. You’d thought that he’d ask you about your day with his kids. 

And he did ask. But that wasn’t all. When you left his study room that night to go home, something in you had changed. Nothing had happened without your consent, and yet it felt like he had invaded a part of you that you didn’t know existed. And the worst part was, you couldn’t wait for him to do it again. 

And now, that damn sentence had become part of your routine. 

After putting the kids to bed, and making sure they were asleep and snoring adorably, you made your way to those huge doors of his study room. 

You didn’t need to knock anymore, you just walked in and shut the doors behind you. 

And there he was. The man most people were scared of in this city. The man who had hired you as the nanny for his kids. Also the man whom you slept with each night before going home to your oblivious boyfriend. 

Lando stood by the large window, looking down at his front yard which was easily one of the most impressive features of his cape cod style mansion. As usual, he was sipping on his drink. Hand running through his curly hair. He had his back to you but you knew he must have the top buttons of his shirt undone. 

You cleared your throat as you approached his lean body standing by the window. Lando turned to face you then, smiling as he watched you walk over to him. Once you were close enough, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. 

Nuzzling your neck and breathing in your scent he said, “Hi baby, how was your day?” 

“Um, good.” You gasped when you felt his gentle kisses up and down your neck. 

“How were the kids?” He asked, casually kissing your skin like this was normal. 

“They were great, as always.” Your heart raced as you wrapped your arms around him, his body heat felt familiar and… good. It felt safe being here with him, no matter how wrong it was. 

“You missed me?” He asked, pulling you even closer as he playfully nibbled on your skin. “‘Cause I missed you. I thought of you all day, you know that?” He pulled away to look at you. “I saw you in this little dress this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you in it.” 

He leaned in to kiss you, like he always does, but tonight you stopped him. You turned your head just the slightest bit so he’d miss your mouth. And he didn’t like that. 

“I… I can’t stay tonight.” You whispered, looking down at the buttons on his shirt instead of into his pretty eyes. Because you could never resist them. 

Lando sighed, kissing along your jaw. You could smell a faint hint of the whiskey he’d just been drinking. “Why do you always do this? Hmm?” He whispered into your ear, “Why do you act like you don’t want this?” 

He placed his glass down on his desk and let his hands wander all over you. He ended up pushing you onto the edge of his desk, stepping in between your legs. One hand sliding under your dress and caressing your thighs, while the other ran up and down your back lovingly. 

“I have to go home.” You said, looking into his eyes and immediately regretting it because he could get you to do anything with one look of those soft eyes. 

“To him?” He asked in an accusatory tone. His expression changed from calm to annoyed. He tsked in disappointment when you remained quiet. “How many times are you gonna talk about this, baby?” 

“I can’t just break up with him.” You argued. “We’ve–,” 

He cut you off. “Oh? So you can’t break up with him but you have no issues going home to him every night with my cum still dripping from your pussy, huh?” 

You used to find his crude words shocking, but not anymore. “It’s not as easy as you think.” 

Lando scoffed, “I’ll make it easier for you if you want.” 

You knew what he insinuated. He was the man he was because of his crooked ways after all. And you immediately shook your head. “Don’t hurt him.” 

That only pissed him off more. His hand moved from your back to wrap around your neck, “We’re not gonna play this little game anymore, you hear me?” He whispered against your skin, lips moving along your jaw while his fingers toyed with the seam of your underwear. 

You struggled to find the right words. So he continued. 

“How long are you gonna keep him in the dark, hmm? How long are you gonna keep going home and sleep beside him while you’re still filled with my cum every night?” He scoffed. “He’s gonna find out someday.” He stated. “Better tell him the truth.” 

“Lando…” You were barely able to think coherently when he easily slid his fingers inside you, stroking you perfectly like he always does. You squirmed and whimpered, before whispering, “This is wrong. We should stop.” 

“So you keep saying.” He answered, arrogant and smug. “Yet you come here each and every night to get fucked.” He pulled away to look into your eyes, still finger-fucking you just hard enough to keep you wanting more but not making you come just yet. “Does this feel wrong, baby?” 

You let out a loud moan as his finger hit the right spot. “Please…” You begged, you didn’t know what for. 

He smirked. “Look at you,” He cooed, “I know he doesn’t touch you like I do. You’re wasting your time with him when you belong to me. You belong right here,” He whispered, pulling his fingers all the way out before sliding them back in, making you moan even louder, “See?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, probably about to beg him to touch you more, but he was already pushing you down onto his desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his lean waist as he bent down to kiss you. His hand still around your neck while the other slid the strap of your slip dress down your shoulder. 

He let go of your throat eventually, still kissing you passionately as his hands quickly got rid of your dress, letting it fall to the ground careless as his mouth kissed down your neck, further down your chest until he latched on to one of your nipples. He sucked on it gently as your back arched off the desk, with you whining in bliss. 

You cried out, “Lando…” 

“I know, baby.” He whispered, “I know.” 

Your fingers found their way into his soft, curly hair and you tugged on it softly, making him groan as he kissed his way up to your neck once again while he slid your underwear down your legs quickly. 

“You’re mine.” He whispered against your tender, swollen lips, “All mine.” 

His hands quickly undid his trousers and you immediately felt his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your wet folds as he slid it up and down before aligning it to your dripping hole. 

Lando held himself up with one hand, bent over you as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna break things off with him tonight.” He said in that authoritative voice of his, the one which made you tremble and clench your thighs together. “And tomorrow you’ll be all mine, and mine alone. You understand?” 

You nodded, panting in need. 

“That’s my good girl.” He whispered before slowly sliding his cock inside you. You whimpered as he filled you up perfectly, stretching you out just enough to make you lose your mind. He groaned as he began moving in and out of you, setting a pace that made your heart race even faster than before. He slowed down for a moment, thrusting into you nice and slow as he hovered above you, looking down at you with parted lips and intense eyes. “Do you know how often I think about us living here together?”

You couldn’t look away from his pretty eyes, couldn’t think about anything else as he fucked you with deep, slow strokes of his cock. He leaned in to kiss your lips, swallowing your moans as he pulled out completely and pushed back into you, making you gasp and whine in pleasure. 

“We’ll be so happy together.” He whispered, kissing along your jaw. “The kids love you,” Then he chuckled, “I love you,” He murmured into your ear. He picked up his pace then, pounding into you relentlessly, as he kissed your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and whimpers in the process. “Think about how happy we would be.” 

You whined upon hearing his words, and also the sounds your bodies made together, filling the entire study. 

“Look at me, baby.” He stared down at you, his pretty eyes seemed even prettier in the dimmed room. “Do you know how often I think about you carrying more kids for me?” He was relentless as he pounded into you like he owned you. “You’ll be such a pretty mom, all swollen, and these tits would be nice and full too,” He leaned in again, kissing you softly before whispering, dangerously. “Would that finally make you leave that piece of shit? Hmm? Is that what it’s gonna take?” 

You tried answering but it ended with a loud moan as his cock reached all the right places. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it. Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you. 

“I’ll…” You whined, “I’ll talk to him. Tonight.” You struggled to form proper sentences as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I promise.” 

“That’s good.” He whispered, wiping a tear which fell down your face. “Because I’m done being patient now, you hear me?” 

You nodded quickly, whining as he sped up again, fucking you so hard you could hear the papers and files on top of his desk falling to the ground and neither of you cared. 

“Come for me, baby.” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. “Come with me.” 

Your mind was foggy by then, and it took your brain a few seconds to register and process his words. Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls. 

“Fuck,” He came with a growl, gripping your hips and filling you up like he always does. 

You whined as you came around him as well, crying his name and moaning loudly. You felt his smirk against your neck as he kissed his way up to your lips again. 

“Tomorrow,” He whispered, reminding you of what you promised, “I’ll fuck you in my bed until the sun comes up.” 

You could only nod as you felt his cum beginning to drip down your inner thighs. 

— 

He stood by the window again, watching your car as it drove away down the long driveway and out of his property. 

This would be the last time he promised himself. From now on you wouldn’t have to go home each night. You’d just stay right here, where you belonged, under his roof and in his care. 

But just in case things didn’t go according to plan… 

Lando grabbed his phone and made a quick call. Barking his orders at his guy who listened intently on the other side. 

“She just left. Go wait by her apartment complex.” He smirked as he spoke, “I’m willing to bet they’ll have an argument, and just as always, he’ll storm out to go get some air.” 

Lando knew that because… well, he always kept an eye on you through the discrete cameras he’d had installed all around your building. How else would he sleep in peace if he didn’t have eyes on his girl at all times? 

He continued, “I’ll tell you when he leaves her apartment, and you’ll move then. Wait for him to walk past the alleyway, and remember, make it look like an accident.” He sighed, even as excitement washed over him, “Can’t have my girl blame me for killing her ex boyfriend.”

--

part 2

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special

The refueling station was on a small moon in the back end of nowhere, close to nothing but a couple of wormhole junctions. Since it had a little convenience store and everything, it really gave off “7/11 next to a desert highway” vibes. Just, y’know, in space. The moon wasn’t big enough for proper gravity or air on its own, so someone had installed a gravity generator under the dusty red ground. And turned it up just a smidge too high, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was going to buy pre-packaged alien snacks at the store while my coworkers handed the refueling. Mimi was calling the shots, tentacles waving and gravelly voice audible from here, while the Frillian twins handled the heavy lifting of connector hoses and Captain Sunlight was at the payment kiosk. The others were either staying onboard or already browsing the aisles.

I’d just picked up a pack of something colorful (doing an artful fumble-and-recovery because of the gravity) when a rowdy group of Armorlites trooped in. I didn’t pay them too much attention — just a bunch of macho dinosaurs with holstered blasters and bipedal swagger; totally normal here — but one of them said something that brought me up short.

“Hey look, another human,” said the cheerful voice. “Maybe you can get some tips on how not to be such a disappointment.” Raucous laughter followed.

I frowned in their direction and saw that they did have a human with them: a pale and unassuming guy just a bit shorter and stockier than me. He looked annoyed by the comment, but not surprised.

When he walked over to me, I asked, “What’s that about?” The Armorlites were already ignoring him.

The guy sighed. “They heard a lot of stories about humans before they hired me, and I don’t meet their expectations.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Humans doing daring things, like running for hours to get medicine to dying people, catching a diseased rat before it infected an entire space station, throwing fruit at charging fauna hard enough to make it leave…” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Exorcizing a ghost, and riding a hoversled like a skateboard fast enough to catch a bomb before it blew up. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He threw his hands in the air.

“Um,” I said, putting down the snack I was still holding. “Would it make it better or worse to know those were all the same person?”

“What?”

“The rat wasn’t actually diseased, the ghost was a howling dog, and I didn’t know the thing was explosive when I rushed to catch it,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only person throwing things at the fauna.”

“What?” he repeated, with a spread-arms gesture that smacked into the shelf. Rubbing his hand, he asked, “That was all you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Unless there are other humans doing the same things, which is possible.”

He raked fingers through his hair, setting it at odd angles. “I can’t believe this. I’d tell them, but they’d just want to hire you instead.”

I rushed to assure him, “I’ve got a job already, and I don’t want to take yours.” I glanced over at the Armorlites, who were grabbing food and accessories. One clicked a flashlight on in another’s face, prompting curses from him and laughter from the others. That tracked from what I’d seen of Armorlite culture before. Toughness was important. Kindness, not so much. “What do you do for them?”

He sighed again. “Bookkeeping, officially. They needed somebody to handle the boring stuff like money and permits while they focus on hunting the biggest animals they can sell.”

“Gotcha. That sounds … exciting.”

“It’s not. It’s like going on a trip with my cousins again, except they’re even bigger and make fun of me for not having claws.”

“You’ve got other stuff going for you, though!” I said. “We just need to figure which of your differences they’ll respect most.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a certain level of sarcasm. “Please tell me what about my fragile human physique will get me respect from the Mighty.”

Oh right, they did call themselves that. I’d almost forgotten. At least they were a straightforward species without a lot of mysterious depths.

“Well,” I said, thinking. “They like fighting. You’re more suited to stealth than they are, small enough to hide and do sneak attacks that they wouldn’t see coming. What if you introduced them to rubber band warfare, and sniped from hidden parts of the ship?”

“Nope,” he said. “That would just end with me cornered somewhere, and them showing off how even thin scales are tougher than my skin.”

“Good point. Oh! What kind of animals do they hunt? You said big ones, but do you know the specific names?” I got out my phone and brought up the database of known fauna that I’d talked Captain Sunlight into buying for me. As her own hired animal expert, it was really the kind of thing that I should have. My vet training on Earth only went so far.

“Uhhh, I think the last one was a treehorn,” he said. “Wait, they talked about going for Argoshan Dagger Birds next.”

“Right. Now what kind of noises do those make…” I typed quickly. Big creatures indeed, by the looks of it: Dagger Birds had prevented more than one colony from getting a foothold in the wilds of a nearby world, and were unlikely to stop being a threat anytime soon. I skimmed the rundown for the vocal files. “Here we go. Mating call.” Keeping the sound low enough for just us to hear, I played the croaking warble.

“Okay?” the guy said, confused.

“Can you imitate that?” I asked. “Give it a shot. Kinda like a frog. Woarrrk.”

Looking skeptical, he did. The expression on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his own efforts, but it sounded accurate enough to me.

“Great!” I said. “Give that a bit of practice, then you can go out with your crew and impress everybody by luring in some targets for them.”

“I could,” he said thoughtfully. “I usually stay on the ship while they’re hunting, but it might be worth a try. Can I have a copy of that sound for practice?”

He got out his own phone and I played it again so he could record it. The Armorlites were dumping things onto the front counter, ready to pay and leave. I caught sight of bright packaging that I recognized, and I had another idea.

“Thanks,” the guy said. “This might actually help. What was your name?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said with a belated handshake.

“Oscar Tennyson,” he replied. “Thanks for your help. Looks like I should grab my stuff and get going.”

“Before you go. See those tall cans with the purple labels?” I pointed at something the Armorlites were buying.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried that?”

“No! They get wasted on it; I’ve steered far clear.”

I grinned with all my teeth. “That’s not alcohol. That’s caffeine.”

“What?”

“Humans can process caffeine better than most species on our own planet, and just about everybody in space. It’s a poison to most. It gets them super drunk, but for you—” I pointed at him with glee. “For you, it’s just a bit of energy. Pick your moment, then walk in casually while they’re getting wasted, and slam one down. See what happens.”

He was smiling now. “You’re sure? It’s really just caffeine? How much?”

“I checked into it before. One of those huge cans is like a watered-down coffee. These guys are absolute lightweights, and they don’t even know.”

He grinned to split his face. “That is the best news.”

One of them called for him to hurry up, and he bid me a quick goodbye before scampering off. I saw him grab food cubes, water, and a six-pack of caffeine, which he bundled onto the counter as the Armorlites headed out the door.

“Be right there! Just getting some stuff!”

They didn’t look, simply telling him not to waste any time. He smiled his way through the purchase.

Peeking over the shelves, I smiled too. Then I went back to my own purchases, with thoughts of getting an energy drink or two in his honor.

~~~

These started as backstory tidbits for the main character from this book, and turned into a sprawling adventure series in their own right. The sequel book will feature a return of some familiar faces. And Patreon is coming soon — even the free tier will be a handy way to keep up with the ongoing shenanigans of this particular human in space.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So, I am begging you here, pls tell me that Ikkaku and Yumichika are still bffs on this AU. I need the violent miss- and yet perfectly matched bastards to still be forever ride-and-die with each other.

Also, all the dropped tidbits relating to Yumichika are gold and I am hoarding them like a squirrel hoards his nuts for winter.

They are actually, for real, legally married.

Ikkaku was 500% ready to fight the entire Gotei-13 when he took the 628-year old marriage certificate he and Yumichika had gotten in 72 North to the Seireitei Records Office to be honored.

Instead, the sole hiccup in the process was the young lady behind the counter asking him to spell Yumichika's surname for her as this document seems to have been... stained, at some point.

"-That's not... Blood, is it?" She asks, concerned.

"Uh. It's actually. Um. Soy Sauce." Ikkaku mumbles.

It would have been less embarrassing if it had been blood.

Turns out, Gay marriage- and indeed, divorce, or changing your name, or gender, or becoming the third, fourth or seventeenth parent/legal guardian to a kid is a nonissue in soul society, because someone complained *once* and Yamamoto declared that, one, he didn't care, and two, the rest of the military commanders were hired off death row, and *this* is what you're complaining about? Fuck off.

But here are some Yumichika Fun Facts:

Everyone in the 11th division has really, really good personal hygiene and well-cared for hands, feet and nails because Yumichika's mother was a doctor at a rural hospital and put the fear of dysentery, cholera, pneumonia, tetanus, sepsis, trench rot and necrosis into him even more than fear of the gods, and he very much continued this sanitary evangelism.

Yumichika's other mother was a drag queen at the brothel that adjoined the hospital and taught him all about hair, makeup, poisons, manners, alley fights, how to play the shamisen, how to make a knife out of anything, flower arrangement and how to curse the hell out of a motherfucker of it comes to that.

Kubo was wrong Yumichika looks out for all his sisters not just his cis-ters.

Kenpachi was friends with Yumichika before either of the ever knew Ikkaku. He met Yumichika shortly after adopting Yachiru when Yumichika saved him from drowning in the river that ran through his home village.

Kenpachi asked Yumichika what he could do in gratitude for saving his life, and Yumichika, seeing his sword, asked if Kenpachi could "give him a real fight, for once"

They had a jolly little scrap that left Yumichika in the hospital for three months, an almost insatiable lust for battle, and a permanent bald scar on the edge of his eyebrow, which is where he glues the decorative feathers he wears.

It also got him (lovingly) told to move out and make his way in the world.

Yumichika met Ikkaku some years after that, when the theater/brothel he was working at hired Ikkaku on as an Emcee and a comedy act in his own right.

Ikkaku loves making people laugh and is damn good at it.

Yumichika was already considering making a move on him when a heckler pulled a sword on Yumichika during his act and Ikkaku beat the shit out of him with a chair without a second thought, and Yumichika decided he was going to seduce and marry this bald little maniac then and there.

It still took the better part of six months, because Ikkaku was convinced that Yumichika was "Way out of his league" and "He's just being friendly to a coworker!".

Things finally became clear when, having reached a boiling point of sexual frustration, Yumichika challenged Ikkaku to a duel, beat the hell out of Ikkaku with Kujaku, and screamed his feelings directly into Ikkaku's face.

"Oh." Said Ikkaku. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I'VE BEEN SAYING THINGS AND SHOWING YOU THINGS AND SITTING IN YOUR LAP AND KISSING YOU FOR SIX MONTHS YOU FUCKING MORON."

"...I may be stupid."

"At least you're also cute. C'mere you sexy cueball."

-and they have been blissfully if dramatically wedded since.

It was many years after that that they had moved on to a different brothel as a duo floor show act, when they got to talking to some of the other working girls about their travels and Yumichika tells the story of how he got his eyebrow scar saving a real freak of a guy from drowning after he got stabbed by a river stingray, but then he challenged him to a fight because- well, he was young and cocky and a small fish, but in a tiny pond- and promptly got his ass beat.

"That's wild!" Says Ikkaku. "I also challenged a random freak with a stingray scar on his leg to a fight because I was bored and- all due respect to you and Kujaku, my beloved - but he gave me a thrashing the likes of which I'd never had before or since. He had his daughter with him was the weird part- he was a real big bastard, face like a cliff, but his girl was this adorable little pink thing."

Yumichika sits up, frowning. "-seven feet tall in socks, big vertical scar on the right side of his face?" He asked, gesturing to his own.

Ikkaku put his drink down and pointed at Yumichika "-and bells in his hair! You fought Zaraki Kenpachi too??"

"Yes! What the hell?" Yumichika laughed. "I wonder where he is now..."

"Oh Gods, he had the WORST sense of direction! He's probably managed to walk in and back out of the Soul King's palace on accident!" Ikkaku giggled

"Well, if he's the same seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and pink little girl on his shoulder as the seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and the pink little girl on his shoulder standing out in the street looking lost as hell, you can go ask him." Said their coworker Sachiko, pointing to the giant standing not a dozen feet away.

"Look Ken-chan! It's YuYu and Baldy!" Yachiru giggled.

"Yachiru!" Yumichika gasped, delighted.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" bellowed Ikkaku.

"YOU AGAIN!" Zaraki bellowed, ecstatic. " BEEN A FEW YEARS, LET'S SEE HOW MUCH YOU LEARNED!!"

Ten minutes of incredible violence, twelve minutes of evading the police and twenty-one minutes of getting lost on the way back to the brothel, a bloodied but still standing Yumichika was explaining to the Madame that the giant bastard carrying the unconscious half of her prized floor show duo behind him was, in fact, an old friend of theirs whom she should absolutely hire as a bouncer, you can see how effective he is!

Madame Tsubaki, who recognizes incredible spiritual power and fighting potential when she sees it, and who is still very petty about the divorce from her husband the Shinigami Captain-General, allows herself to be persuaded.

[sophswritingthings]

YOUR MIZU WRITING IS EVERYTHING the apothecary!wife fic where they're approaching the brothel and mizu's reaction to the man trying to get her wife hired as a s worker... we need more jealous/possessive mizu content in my mind it could go any way whether the reader is mizu's wife, significant other, or someone she has feelings for (though if it's just a crush i think it'd lean more towards jealousy than possessiveness) if you feel like writing something for that kind of idea i'd love to see it!

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing

a/n: oughhhh I love writing jealous characters!! esp when its like the "masc" one that's jealous!!! idk it just hits something with me <3

summary: mizu's definitely crushing on you. hard. she will deny the fact fifteen times over if you even think of calling her out on it; but its evident. so evident that now she's getting jealous.

word count: 733 words / 3,897 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were walking. simply walking, your kimono dragging through the snow as you gave men and women alike smiles as you walked by.

she watched you closely, as if a hawk stalking her prey. every way your hand flicked, every time that smile would rise and fall on your lips, and those rosy pink cheeks nipped by the cold wind.

she hated it. she fucking hated it.

how beautiful you were, and goddamn it how nice you were to her. she had the tendency to be cold with everyone, even people she sort of liked, and yet you pushed right through it--you would smile at her every time you caught her looking at you.

what was your fucking problem? why were you just so... nice?

instead, she opted to keep her distance while she was figuring that out.

she was walking alongside ringo, her "apprentice" that she'd gained along the way. she didn't ask for him nor actually want him; but he was rather helpful when it came to certain things--so she didn't bother sending him away. she'd tried that and it didn't work.

"master?" ringo questioned, glancing at mizu.

mizu took the glance at ringo, raising an eyebrow and meeting his eyes. she said nothing, waiting for his question.

"where has, um, (y/n) gone?"

she stopped in her tracks at that, looking ahead. and he was right. you'd disappeared off to who knows where.

she sighs, "only god knows where she's gone," she grumbled. "wait here. I'll find her."

he nods. she walked along the street ways, looking in every alleyway, every shop. deep down she was nervous, nervous that someone had kidnapped you, taken you away where she wouldn't be able to find you.

her heart was racing as she broke into something of a sprint, but she stopped in her tracks. she spotted a red kimono splotched with snow and pretty depictions of flowers and cranes.

yeah, that was you.

she walked toward you. you were standing on the inside of a dimly lit shop, fucking hell, what had you gotten yourself into that she needed to get you out of?

she unsheathed her sword, stepping into the shop. you were talking to some man, of all people. who in hell was he, and what did he want with you?

she pressed him against the counter, sword pressed to his neck.

"what the fuck are you doing with her?" she hisses. she looked him up and down. the clothes he were wearing were a man of a brothel.. "ah. I see. so, what, you see a beautiful woman and you assume she wants anything to do with you?"

"mizu--relax," you grab her arm, making her release her grip on the man. you pull her back. "he was only talking to me, maybe its time I settle down. and here is nice, I--"

an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into her side as she spoke to you.

"you are just fine with myself and ringo," she narrowed her eyes. "and you are not the kind of woman to just.. sleep with a man. a random, man."

you gaze at her, surprised by her closeness. she had never been so close to you..

"I-i suppose I am not," you whisper, glancing at the man. "t-thank you, sir.. I'll be on my way, I believe."

the two of you step outside the building.

"I was fucking worried about you, you know," she hisses, releasing her grip from your waist.

"more like jealous," you snicker. though your blush is still evident. "you were jealous I was talking to him."

"what? no," she spat. "you can talk to whoever the fuck you want, you act like I care."

you wince at the harshness to her words, "I-im only... never mind."

she saw how much her harsh tone hurt you. she sighs. you weren't wrong; even the thought of you being with another person made her blood boil.

she wanted you. she wanted you all to herself.

"maybe a little jealous," she had decided to humor you. she couldn't have you hating her, or scared of her. that was a big no-no.

"I thought so," you gently jabbed her side. you recoiled after you did so; knowing that it would very likely piss her off.

she gave a gentle laugh, "yeah, yeah, whatever. come on, can we get on with our walk, now?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: im sorry its short, and also a little more "protective" mizu than jealous.. this is the first thing Im writing when I wake up, so its probably not the best! my apologizes for that :(

[nekosounds]

Mafia!Rhea Ripley x reader

Summary: Being broke with a dead end job, you thought your life was going to stay this way. That was, until you met Rhea Ripley, the queen of the mafia.

----------

After spending most of my money on rent, I went to the one place I knew I could get a meal for cheap. The local pizza parlor sold pizza slices that were days old for a cheap price. It was always lukewarm and chewy on the best of days, but it’s better than starving.

As I enter the place, I notice a familiar sight of a woman with slick, black hair and a casual suit. Rhea Ripley, the infamous mafia queen. Usually I’d catch her glance once or twice. But for the past few weeks, she’s been staring me down. I try to avoid her, I’m already broke as is. The last thing I need is to be indebted to the mafia queen herself.

Walking up to the counter to order, my eyes widened at the price. Instead of the usual $1 per old slice, it was now $3!

“Shit.” I sigh. With only $2 to my name, there's no way I could afford to eat now. Just as I was about to walk out, an arm blocks my path. I look up to see none other than Rhea Ripley herself.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Rhea asks me. I feel my mouth go dry. What does she want with me? Can she see that I’m desperate and broke? Is she gonna make me loan myself out to her? “I’m starting to get impatient, princess. So I’ll ask again. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Um…I-I don’t have enough to pay for a meal.” I say, “Surely I’m not welcome here if I can’t pay.”

Rhea nods. But instead of letting me go like I hoped, she grabs my hand and pulls me to a table. One in the back that I usually saw her and her men sit at.

“Sit.” She commands. I do as she tells me. She smirks at this, “Good girl. I like the obedient ones.” She says, making my face flush. She sits down next to me, our thighs practically touching from how close she is. “Now, order anything you want. Food, drink, desserts. Anything. It’s on me.” She said.

“B-But I don’t want you to spend money on me.” I say, feeling like this was the start of me having to owe her something. But she just rolls her eyes.

“Sweetheart, I own this place. It won’t cost a single dime. Now order and eat.” She says before leaning in close to my face. “That’s an order.”

I nod. Feeling both scared, and aroused? Her commanding me makes me feel oddly good. And I want to do what she tells me to do. I want to make her happy. So I order a decent meal for myself. And she looks pleased.

The food arrives fast, and I don’t have a single doubt as to why that is. As I start eating, Rhea starts a conversation.

“So sweetheart, I see you around here quite often. Ordering the cheapest thing we have on the regular. Why is that?” She asks.

I start to explain everything to her. My job, my shitty boss, how he only pays me when he feels like it. And when he does, it’s always never enough. And how nowhere else is hiring, so I’m stuck at this crappy, dead end job.

She listens to me with interest. And I don’t know why, but I feel so comfortable telling her all of this. Once I finish my sob story, she smirks at me.

“How about I make you an offer?” She asks. I feel my skin turn pale. I knew this was going to happen. I’m going to be indebted to people I will never be able to pay back! Rhea notices my fear.

“Oh don’t look so scared, princess. I promise you’ll like this offer.” She says, leaning in closer to whisper in my ear. “How about you quit that shitty, no good job of yours…And you come with me?” She chuckles, her warm breath on my ear making me shiver.

“Like to be your servant or your maid?” I ask, unsure of what she meant. She chuckles again.

“No sweetheart. I don’t want you as a servant, or a maid, or anything like that. I just simply want you to be…mine.” She leans in closer with every word she speaks. Her lips are now barely touching. “I’ll treat you like royalty. You can have whatever you want, whenever you want. In return, I get to keep you all to myself…How does that sound?” She asks.

I’m at a loss for words. The deal sounds so nice, surely there must be a catch? But I can’t think of one right now. All I can think of is how beautiful she is, and how badly I want to kiss her.

“C-Can I…” Before I could finish, she leans in and kisses me. My hands clutch at her short, black hair. And her hands trail up and down my back, pulling me closer to her until I was sitting on her lap. Once we finally pull back for air, Rhea laughs.

“So, I take that as a yes?” She asks before trailing a few kisses down my neck. I nod ini response. “I want your voice, baby.” She says, “I want to hear you say it. Say that you belong to me.”

“I-I belong to you, Rhea.” I say, my voice wavering as she kisses down my neck some more. “I belong to you and only you. No one else.”

“Good girl~” Rhea chuckles and pulls back. “From now on, you’ll be treated so well. I’ll give you whatever you want, baby, just stay loyal to me, and I’ll treat you like the princess that you are.” She says before pulling me into another kiss.

As we continue to kiss, Rhea makes plans in her head. She wants what’s best for her baby, that’s for sure. And to start off, why not take care of that shitty boss of hers? The man owes her money anyways, having him six feet under means nothing to her. Besides, what her baby doesn’t know can't hurt her.

[suzukiblu]

Day fifteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon grins wider, then holds his cup out to him. Specifically, he tilts it so Tim can take a sip instead of just giving it to him. 

Bastard. Bastard-coated bastard with bastard-flavored nougat-y filling and a bastardly ganache coating and bastard sprinkles on top. 

Bastard. 

Tim thinks several more accusing things, then leans over and tries the smoothie. It does taste pretty good, though it’s a little too sweet for him to want to drink the whole cup. Blackberry is definitely more his thing. 

“Not bad,” he says anyway, because it’s not and also goddammit, Kon is still grinning at him. Because again: bastard. Absolute full and complete and entire bastard. 

“Yeah, for the East Coast, at least,” Kon replies with an easy shrug, reclaiming his cup for another sip. Tim does not think about indirect kissing or anything that ridiculously juvenile and middle-school. Not at all. Not even slightly, in fact. “I dunno, the whole thing just reminds me, um . . . like, I didn’t really do the whole ‘childhood’ thing, obviously, but you know that thing where people talk about extra-liking stuff they used to eat when they were kids? Tropical flavors kinda make me feel like that. Comfort food or whatever. I mean, it’s not Loco Moco or musubi, obviously, but . . .” 

Tim blinks, makes a few mental notes, and wonders if there’s a single actually authentic Hawaiian restaurant in Gotham. Maybe? There’s got to be at least a decent food truck or two around, if nothing else. There’s always a food truck. 

He could probably bribe one to come into the city for a day or two, if it comes to it. 

“That makes sense,” he says, since technically Kon’s childhood pretty much was in Hawaii. He refuses to count the stupid fucking cloning tube, because counting the stupid fucking cloning tube is literally too depressing a thought to even contemplate. Fuck the stupid fucking cloning tube. Fuck it sideways. 

Maybe Tim can just bribe a Hawaiian food truck to set up in Kon’s future cul-de-sac once a week or something, once he's conned him into moving into it. Just include it in their usual schedule or something, he doesn’t know. Or at least drop off a regular lunch order for him, maybe. 

Whatever, he’ll work something out. He’s going to be working a lot of things out, at this point; hooking Kon up with a regular supply of his childhood comfort foods is not even an imposition. He doesn’t even know what either Loco Moco or musubi is, but he’ll put them on the list and do his damn research. He'll go to Hawaii and hire a personal chef straight from the source if he has to, at this point. 

“Can I try yours?” Kon asks, grin going sly again. Tim’s head immediately empties out all over again, and he mutely holds his cup out. Kon’s grin widens. 

He leans in and ducks his head and Tim has to deal with how long his eyelashes are and just how pretty his stupid face is and, worse, how pretty his stupid mouth is. 

Fuck’s sake, this is just not fair at all. He knows Kon’s a flirt, obviously, but does he have to actually be good at it? Because Tim is not used to him being good at it, actually! Usually he’s being overbearing and too-eager and weird about it, in fact! 

Tim has the unfortunate thought that maybe Kon always flirts like this and he’s just not seeing it as overbearing or too-eager or weird because it’s focused on him for once, then immediately dismisses said thought as a thought he absolutely cannot allow himself to ever have again. Just–ever. Not for anything. 

Jesus, what is his fucking life right now? 

Kon leans back; licks his lips. Tim dies, kind of. Like, just a little bit. 

Alright, maybe more than a little bit. 

“I like it,” Kon says, grinning at him. Tim tries not to think about how intimately he now knows how Kon’s mouth would taste right now, sharply sweet-sour with blackberry and tropical fruit and all warm and soft and wet and–never mind.

“Want a pretzel too?” he offers in a hopefully normal voice, tipping his head towards the stand. 

“Sure,” Kon says, glancing towards it. “Sounds good, man.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, incredibly awkwardly, and they head over. He orders a regular pretzel because he doesn't know Caroline Hill's pretzel order anymore than he knows her smoothie order, but “regular” isn't going to be interesting enough for Kon to make a note of either way. Possibly he should just be ordering things Tim Drake would, but the flaw in that plan is that Tim Drake isn't thinking very clearly right now and it is currently much, much easier to be in mission-mode than anything else. 

Kon orders a cinnamon-sugar pretzel. Tim wishes the bastard would stop eating things that taste good, but also recognizes that it’s his fault that the bastard's been eating things that taste good. He’s literally the one both suggesting and buying said things for him. 

So Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now because of Tim, which is actually making the fact that Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now infinitely worse. 

Tim pays. They get the pretzels. Kon immediately tears off a bite of his and Tim wishes he had a cover identity that didn't like cinnamon, or at least was allergic to it or diabetic or gluten-intolerant or something. He could use a cover identity like that to fall back on right now. 

“Wanna bite?” Kon offers. 

“I'm good,” Tim says, because he will literally die if he takes him up on that offer right now. Or possibly go criminally insane like fifteen years ahead of schedule, which would be its own problem. He doesn't have enough kryptonite for that yet. “You like it?” 

He doesn’t know why he asked that. Apparently he’s just a glutton for punishment. 

“Yeah,” Kon says, licking sugar off his lips. “It’s good.” 

“Good,” Tim says, then desperately flails for a subject that doesn’t involve the way anything currently in Kon’s mouth tastes. “Do you have a personal phone or just a work one?” 

“Just work, technically. And then, like, I get issued communicators when I need them,” Kon replies, looking puzzled. “Why?” 

Because Cadmus could very easily track and tap and block whatever numbers they wanted on that, Tim doesn’t say. 

“I’m trying to get your number and I don’t want to call you on your work phone,” he says. “That seems weird.” 

“You a little on the shy side, pretty boy?” Kon asks teasingly, flashing him a smirk. Tim does not examine anything about that statement or his own feelings about it. He also does not think about what Kon’s mouth tastes like, though Kon makes that incredibly difficult by immediately taking another bite of pretzel. 

Has Tim mentioned what a bastard he is yet? Because he is a bastard.

“I’m buying you a phone,” he says, deciding if he just acts like it’s a foregone conclusion and some small little thing, Kon’s likelier to not reject the offer. “I cannot mentally deal with the idea of your boss seeing what I text you about on some random weekly report.” 

“You can’t, huh,” Kon says, biting his lip around a grin and shifting in a little bit closer. “Why, Tim? What are you gonna text me about?” 

Tim realizes how that might’ve sounded much too late, but by then it’s too late to rephrase or backtrack, so fuck it: time to commit. 

“Depends on what you text back, I guess,” he says. Kon laughs, then grins at him again. His face is a little red again too. Tim is resigned to having to survive the experience. 

“Well, I guess you’d have my number if you got me a phone, huh,” Kon says. 

“I would, yes,” Tim says. He’s going to have to resist asking Kon to turn on “find my phone”, probably. Or adding any trackers or bugs to it. It’s the Bat instinct, but it’d probably creep Kon out if he caught a “civilian” doing anything like that. And also definitely concern him, what with the “supervillain creep” concerns he was already having. And Tim would have a really hard time paying for Kon’s entire life if Kon decided he was a supervillain before he’s even become a supervillain, so he’d prefer to avoid that outcome. 

He guesses Caroline Hill could give it a shot if Tim Drake can’t pull it off, though. She’d still probably have better chances than him anyway, given Kon’s usual taste in people. 

They eat their pretzels on the way to the electronics store and Tim tries to plot how to convince Kon to let him get him the best possible phone but is incredibly, incredibly distracted by watching him lick cinnamon sugar off his fingers. Tim actually hasn’t seen Kon with his gloves off too many times, come to think of it. Or possibly, like . . . ever. Like, he might’ve actually never seen him with his gloves off before. 

Alright, well, that’s a thing that he hadn’t yet realized and is now going to be completely normal about. 

Definitely normal. Very, very normal. So normal. 

They toss out their empty pretzel wrappers outside the store and Kon licks a little more sugar off the pad of his thumb. Tim wonders if he has any callouses. Probably not, considering the TTK, but who knows. Maybe he trains with it down? Or maybe TTK just doesn’t protect his skin quite that thoroughly. Tim’s never actually seen him get cut or scratched or even bruised, though, so . . . maybe? 

He really has no idea, at this point. 

He supposes he could ask. Tim Drake’s already said he knew about tactile telekinesis and that he did some research, so . . . 

“Does TTK protect you from callouses?” he asks, gesturing at Kon’s hands with his smoothie and a little too curious to repress the question. Kon tilts his head and smirks at him again. 

“You tell me,” he says, then casually reaches over and catches Tim’s free hand in his own. 

Tim had thoughts in his head at some point today, he’s pretty sure, but hell if he knows what any of them were.

[moetrash]

rsv marriage candidates and whether they can drive

why? bc i'm bored... feel free to send me any other prompts if you have them!

alissa: no, but she occasionally drives her dad's truck around the orchard for chores.

anton: yes, but his car has been broken down for months now, and instead of getting it fixed, he's just been mooching rides off his siblings.

blair: nope! she just gets her mom or sean to drive her places instead~

bryle: absolutely - he's certified to drive cars, trucks, motorcycles, and armored vehicles.

corine: yep! feel free to call her if you ever need a ride, okay? :) (seriously, you can call her at like 3 am and she'll be there, no questions asked.)

daia: no, but luckily she's a master at guilting people into offering her rides - the world is her uber.

faye: got her license only recently after having hired drivers most of her life... she's the type to obliviously cut across three lanes of highway traffic to her exit with a bumper sticker that says "silly goose on board".

flor: yes, when she has to... but if anyone honks at her she *will* pull onto the shoulder to cry

ian: no - he can't pass the written test...

irene: yes, and she's also an avid collector of cute bumper stickers! this one is a strawberry with a smiley face!

jeric: well, he has his motorcycle license... why, you want a ride? ;)

jio: jio doesn't know what cars are.

june: um, no? what do you take him for, a str*ight???

kenneth: yes, but he's more interested in building motor vehicles than driving them...

kiarra: yup. she drives an old subaru outback with a zillion bumper stickers that say stuff like "support your local pollinators" and "no human being is illegal". oh, and her car's name is sally ride.

maddie: yes... but she road-rages like overworked ex-military trucker. do not ride with her unless you've made your peace with god.

paula: not only does she have her license, she's one of the best drivers you'll ever meet. (years of driving MEVs across gotoro battlefields will give you that.)

philip: yes - his dream car is the incredicar, as seen in the first movie adaptation of incrediman, "incrediman vs. the royal serpent" - but right now he drives a handicap-accessible minivan, yknow, for work...

sean: yeah, he has a truck he can use for work stuff - but don't look in the backseat. it's littered with empty gatorade bottles and fruit gummy bags.

shiro: no... but he used to...

ysabelle: nope. hashtag corine's passenger princess 4 lyfe ^^

zayne: a license? like the chauffeurs have? why would he need that??

[ricflairdrip20]

Can I request another one in which the reader is dating David and he later finds out that Ryan tried hitting on her and he is livid as he reacts by confronting Ryan about it later on?

David Protecting You (David Wallace x Reader)

You went to the table to grab a drink of water, before filling your plates with fruits and some veggies. Like Angela, you’re not a fan of meat due to your veganism. So filling up with fruit and vegetables is the ideal choice for your company Christmas party.

It has been over a year since you got an accounting job at Dunder Mifflin corporate. The previous accountant resigned due to family matters and David is quick to offer you the job. Not just by familiarity but for your work skills that is a great asset to the company.

It was also right around the time Ryan got hired to take over Jan’s old job as Vice President of Sales, which is puzzling because prior to that, he was just a temp who just happened to get Jim’s job as salesman in lieu of expiring out his contract. Despite working in a different department, you knew that sales isn’t Ryan’s strongest skill set.

“Hey, Y/N,” you were interrupted by a familiar voice while you were eating your kiwis. You looked up to see Ryan standing there with almost an egotistical smile on his face. Another thing you noticed about him since transferring to New York, his change in attitude. He went from a shy temp to someone who let the power go to his head from the job that he shouldn’t even be having due to lack of qualifications.

“Oh, hi, Ryan,” you waved to him. Despite his behavior, you were still nice and cordial, because that’s how you were raised.

“Enjoying the party?” You nodded.

“I do, actually. I just wish they had more vegan stuff instead of meat. It’s not fair to the animals,” you sighed and mentally questioned people’s “morals” at their choice of meals at the expense of the creatures.

Ryan smiled warmly at your compassion. He had a crush on you since his first day of Dunder Mifflin. Kelly noticed and since then, gave you a stink face every time she sees you—highly stemmed from her insecurity—which is something you were a little confused about. You knew Kelly likes him a lot, until one day she saw Ryan sitting next to you and talking to you at the break room. Which explains her attitude towards you. Odd girl.

“That’s really kind of you, Y/N. Um, Y/N? Can I tell you something,” he asked, almost shyly. You nodded.

“When I look in your eyes, I see a very kind soul.” That sentence made you blush, but you had to put it aside because you have your eyes on someone else.

“Thank you,” you replied, but he kept going. The next thing he said caught you off guard.

“You’re like a fine wine. The more of you I drink in, the better I feel.” You started to get a little uncomfortable as Ryan kept talking, at this point wishing he’d shut up and/or somebody showing up.

Your wish came true as you saw your boyfriend David approaching the two of you. He must’ve noticed the look of discomfort on your face while talking with Ryan, because he asked you if he was bothering you, to which you said yes.

“He’s hitting on me and saying these weird pick up lines,” you added. You were glad that the man you’ve been dating for a few months came to your rescue.

David sighed and looked at Ryan.

“Ryan, may I speak to you somewhere private?” David asked before walking to a more secluded area.

Cut to Third Person

“That woman is my girlfriend, Ryan! You know we’ve been dating yet you have no sense of respect and decency in other people’s relationships. Have you lost your mind?! Because I’ll help you find it!” David was yelling at Ryan as he stammered on his words, trying to lessen the blow.

“I’m sorry- Okay- I’ll stop…”

“…Won’t be able to help you if you don’t stop hitting on my girl!”

Cut to Ryan’s talking head

“David yelled at me tonight. That was one of the most frightening experiences of my life.”

[mighty-mepoe]

Interesting (All Might) fic finds

Cute/Slice of life fics:

Slightly Cracked by Krisington

Really sweet, a bit bitter at the start.

The more Izuku made friends at UA, the more he realized that All Might was just as friendless as he himself had always been. Despite All Might's insistence otherwise, Izuku found this to be completely unacceptable.

Secret Identity fics:

Yagi-Sensei by Swiftwidget (or also HERE)

<3

A short drabble inspired by a post by alicekaninchenbau on tumblr. An AU in which "All Might" was not hired to teach at U.A. but instead Toshinori Yagi teaches Foundational Hero Studies and no one but Principal Nedzu, Recovery Girl, and Izuku know he is All Might. Toshinori actually does come through the door like a normal person.

Mr Yagi by Swiftwidget

Amazing, makes me smile every time.

Mr. Toshinori Yagi from the Second Secretarial Office: A kind, generous man with an uncanny knowledge about the Might Tower Staff who never hesitated to make their days brighter. At least, that's how they knew him. / Inspired by the Vigilante 006 Beta chapter in which Detective Tsukauchi meets Toshinori Yagi at Might Tower for the first time.

Missing Everything by Haptronym

Izuku misses a very important reveal and ends up with a villain-filled soda bottle instead. In the ensuing chaos, he befriends someone named Toshinori Yagi. All Might misses the chance to make a snap decision and ends up mentoring a very heroic, very determined child who has no idea who he really is.

No Such Thing As a Hopeless Case by Origamidragons

I read this fic ages ago and it has lived rent-free in my brain since then. Dead since 2019, but what is written is worth reading.

The story of how Toshinori Yagi (not All Might, Toshinori Yagi) singlehandedly defeated his archenemy's League of Villains by accidentally adopting them all. Or: Toshinori's gonna redemption arc everybody, just watch him.

GOT THIS POWER THAT IS TAKING ME OUT (shall I go now? you'll like it, you'll be the hero) by canbreathe, debesys (canbreathe)

Heart-warming.

<<"You do not have any kind of teaching qualification, do you Yagi-san?" "I, um," he desperately grabs at straws, "cleaning? I've done. Cleaning.">> All Might, or rather, Yagi Toshinori, becomes a janitor at U.A. It goes much better than expected.

Badass Small Might:

to measure time by sundefeater lou (sundefeater)

Dad Might becomes feral.

Five minutes. Five goddamned minutes. He had just wanted to restock some essential supplies at the nearby konbini while Izuku got some much needed rest with the aid of the last of the cold tablets and a cool compress. Or: Izuku is sick, the villains don't care, and Toshinori has had it up to here with these assholes.

Mr. Yagi by writers_writers

Beginning of manga-Bakugou learns some practical lessons.

With Aizawa still out of commission on the Monday after the USJ attack, the question is, who is going to teach Class 1-A. All might is out recuperating as well and the rest of the teachers are already stretched thin working on the security on top of their own classes. The kids are shaken and on edge from the devastating events the week prior and need someone with a steady hand and a kind voice to get them back to a sense of normality. It's a good thing that All Might's secretary offered to come in for the day just to keep an eye on them.

Yagi-san by soulofdarkandlight

All Might finds a way to be a hero without using his quirk.

When Nedzu asks All Might to retire, he surprisingly agrees. Little does he realize, it's All Might who agreed, not Yagi.

Harmony in War by Quisanne

(Restricted to AO3 users) Dad-Might and Dad-Zawa for your enjoyment. Also some Bakugrowth towards the end. I just love Aizawa's POV.

Aizawa and All Might go on a warpath to raze Aldera Middle School to the ground. A story in which Aizawa is the one smiling at people and All Might is the one intimidating everyone.

Dadmight:

The Best Day by Nicnac

So cute! All fluff with a tiny bit of angst in the predictable place. Worth a thousand reads.

All Might saves Izuku from the slime villain when the boy is only four years old. Things proceed accordingly.

Quirkless Yagi Toshinori:

Thunder by Hayato (TheLennyBunny)

Yagi Toshinori manages to become a quirkless hero in the harsh world of his youth.

This Autor has a whole mountain of amazing fics.

In this universe, he never meets anyone. He sits as an island, isolated, standing with stacks of notebooks and muscles gained from years of self-defense. He tells his middle school counsellor he wants to be a hero, and she laughs in his face.

Angst / Harsh fics (no bad endings):

Statistic by aconstantstateofbladerunner

When victims and bystanders are gaslighted into believing it's their fault, help is difficult to come by.

In a world where All for One was defeated the first time around, new villainous groups are constantly bubbling up just under the surface of society. New crimes need new tactics, so in an effort to flush out an alleged anti-quirkless group, All Might decides to go undercover as Yagi Toshinori, quirkless middle school teacher. But Toshinori hasn't been quirkless in a long time, and he learns the hard way how much things have changed.

Toshishan and Baby 'Zuku (I Know How the World Treat Us) by 18ems_girl

Super-cute! And it has some iteresting character studies.

A de-aging quirk affects Izuku and Toshinori and, while baby Izuku is happy to meet heroes, teen Toshinori is scared because he knows people treat quirkless kids awful.

Humour:

When Monologuing To Your Nemesis Goes Wrong by Ilentari

Crack. Also SPOILERS.

Ugh, he didn’t want to be subjected to this boring monologue anymore. Perhaps this was All For One’s plan? Rant to him until his ears began to bleed? All For One cleared his throat and started back up where he left off, and All Might sighed in irritation. “Why are you like this?” he groaned, wanting the villain to shut up. All For One initially had seemed annoyed by the interruption, but quickly brightened at the question. “I’m glad you asked!” He flourished his hands dramatically. “You see, once upon a time there was a baby born as evil as one could be—” That was stupid. All Might snorted. “Babies aren’t born evil.”

Take My Place on the Witness Stand by Quisanne

Hilarious. (Restricted to AO3 users) I also recomend the rest of the Series.

[Officer] Name, age, current address, and quirk, please, if you would. [Suspect] I'm afraid I can’t tell you most of these things. [Officer] Oh? And why would that be, I wonder? Would it allow us to track you down and find your stash of other stolen IDs? [Suspect] ...It's a matter of national security. [Officer] Yeah sure, and my mother is a late descendant of the Emperor. ----- OR: Yagi Toshinori gets arrested for having All Might's possessions on him and his friends are amazingly incompetent at getting him out. Maybe they're having too much fun with this.

The Torrid Affair of All Might and Yagi Toshinori by Speedwagons_Glorious_Mane

Super-fun.

It's the perfect cover. No one will ever suspect that All Might and Yagi Toshinori are the same person if everyone thinks they're dating.

Healing (literally):

Flashback by Psyckosama

Amazingly self-indulgent. A bit spicy at times. Really well written even if at first it seems it will be a chaotic fic.

On the day Izuku Midoriya was to receive All Might's quirk, the sacred torch of One for All, a young girl glowing with a corona of power runs up to the mentor and student yelling for them to stop as she desperately contains the energy within her. After pleading with Izuku to, impossibly, take One for All from *her*, she lays the weak and crippled Toshinori Yagi's hand upon her sparking horn and All Might is reborn in his prime. But who is this mysterious girl, how did she know the fateful exchange that would be taking place on that isolated beach, and what ominous portents does her appearance that day fortell?

[umakemegiddy]

crossed path - choi jiung

sum : jiung made an urgent choice involving you.

[ note : i almost abandoned this because tumblr suddenly published before it's finished. ]

you know him. you've seen him before. growing up in a small town do that to you. despite never directly interacting with him, you would still recognize that face.

"hello, welcome," the staff greeted you with kindness. your feet bring you to the counter where you ordered few pastries and a cup of a drink. your mind is wandering with how much of a chance it has for you to run into him when you're thousands kilometer away from home.

'jiung' the nametag says. after years you finally managed to know his name. you wonder if he recognized you... maybe not. not that you care anyway.

the cafe was relatively quiet. the aroma of sweet pastries fill in the air. "here's your order," jiung greeted you with a smile. "thank you," "you're welcome!" and he went back to his job.

your study weeks has been hectic and to top it all, your part-time job has been having problem with short-staffed so you had to pick up more hours than you need. but it all still work out when your boss finally introduce you to the new hires days ago.

the tranquility broke when a group of people came in chattering amongst them. jiung who was alone behind the counter keep his professionalism on maximum.

the chatter quiet down and instead you heard three girls behind them giggling to themselves, pointing and giving shy glances to jiung. it was hard not to watch when they're literally standing in the line of your sight. you've encountered customers like this before. there's only one reason why and it looks like you're right.

but it seems like jiung is turning her down her and now she's looking down but wait. why did jiung pointed at you? why the girls keep looking in your directions? jiung gave you a small smile and get to working on their orders.

while he was finishing their drinks, two of his coworker came in and quickly helped him. by the time those girls finally left (not without throwing last glances between you and jiung), you also had finished your drink and decided to re-start your studying session.

you were cleaning up your mess when jiung came out of the back without his apron and approaching you. "i'm sorry for disturbing you but i had to use your name because the girls have been coming in frequently and keep asking for my number and they just won't take no for answer so i just had to do this," he keep on rambling while you sat there confused.

"wait, wait, slow down. what- use my name? for what?" jiung looked anxious as he took a seat across you.

apparently this is not the first time the girls came in asking for his number and their persistence is becoming more of an annoyance for everyone here so jiung had to lie that he's taken so they leave him alone but they never believed him. so when they came again today, jiung had to said that you're his girlfriend in hope them leaving him alone.

"but why me?" jiung shift his eyes, finding the potted plant in the corner more interesting. "because you're the only one i trust who wouldn't snitch on me."

"huh? wait you know me?" you asked baffled, considering how the two of you never interacted before. "um yeah. you remember taeyang?" you nodded. taeyang is your friend from hometown who you still kept in contact with. "taeyang is my cousin. he told me a lot about you," he sheepishly told you.

that makes sense how sometimes you would see taeyang hanging out where jiung used to work at. you never ask because it was not your business with who taeyang wanted to befriend with.

"oh," was all you could say, feeling awkward now. "yeah... um if you're not busy can i ask you out to dinner?" the tip of jiung's ears are now red, flustered. "you know, to get to know each other."

before you could say anything, you watched how jiung's eyes widened and suddenly he's stammering, "wait you never agreed. oh god, you probably think i'm a creep and weird. oh no taeyang is gonna kill me! i'm making you uncomfortable aren't i? i better go. i'm sorry fo-" "jiung," you cut him off.

"it's okay. i'm free tomorrow. here give me your number," wordlessly, jiung took you offered phone and keyed in his number naming himself as 'jiung'.

you smiled at the newly added contact "i'll text you to let you know what time i'm free," jiung nodded, still unable to find his voice. "goodbye jiung," and with that you stood up, gave him a wave and you're out of the cafe.

outside, you're also having shortcircuit with how brave you were being back there. your face heating up in embarrassment as you remember how flustered jiung looked when you waved him goodbye. 'he's kinda cute...' you thought to yourself.

pulling yourself together, you decided to start your study right away. after all you need to be free tomorrow night.

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only! Sexual content, blood, death, questionable morals when Max is involved. Did I mention blood?

My masterlist

Pedro Pascal

Two years, six days and 8 hours ago, you walked into your boss’s office expecting to be fired. It’d only been a few months since you started, but the changeover was hectic, and standards of working slipped through the cracks. 

The fact this was your first corporate job didn’t help. They had hired you under the referral of your old roommate. The idea was a long shot, but you got the job. The hours were long, and the pay was shit, but you didn’t have to sweat your ass off or wear a name tag. 

Overall, being employed at Acla’s Pharmaceuticals wasn’t bad. 

Didn’t mean you wouldn’t get fired for forgetting a coma in paperwork, though. 

Which led to you being called to Max Phillips’ office. Your flats were rubbing against your heel as you walked. The smell of desperation and stale coffee clogged your nose, and, for the life of you, finding his office was impossible. 

The mental math of your budget and bills ran through your head at top speeds. Thoughts of ramen packets and macaroni and cheese blended with your cat’s brand of food. You could afford to feed yourself or your cat for the next three months and, let’s be real, your cat wins. 

Knocking on the door felt wrong. It echoed. 

Your stomach twisted when Mr. Phillips shouted for you to come in. 

It twisted again when you saw blood all over his desk, covering his tie and dripping from the pen in his hand. You wouldn’t say it looked like a massacre. That’d be extreme, but a solid murder was possible. 

Was the blood his? 

Did he mean to call janitorial and got you instead? 

Was that possible? You were in claims which, yes, sucked, but wasn’t near the cleaning crew was it? 

(Not that anything’s wrong with the cleaning crew. You simply hated vacuuming and there seems to be carpet in a lot of places here.) 

Max smiled when he noticed you. 

“Ah, there you are.” The blood dripped off the pen, splattering over paperwork. 

“Um, you needed me Mr. Phillips?”

His smile tilted as he shook his head. “Please, call me Max.” 

“Sorry Mr-.” You paused, “Uh, Max.” 

He rose to his feet, the tie swinging across his white shirt. When you glanced down at it, he followed your gaze and huffed out a laugh. 

“Yes,” He dabbed the tie with his fingers, “You must be wondering why I asked for you.” 

That’s an understatement. 

Did he need an alibi? 

Could you be an alibi? How long were you at work? 

“I was talking to Janet, your office manager. She says quite a few things about you.” His smile widened. “All good things, of course. One thing she mentioned really stuck out. You were a medic, right?” 

You’re not sure if a medic could handle this. How many bandaids did he need?

“Uh,” You tried to look away from the bloody handprint he left when he stepped around the desk, “Not really. I trained in phlebotomy, but had to quit when my sister got sick.” 

Another smile, all teeth, “You worked with blood though, right?” 

“That’s the whole point of phlebotomy.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Max’s smile faded, dripping with blood. He rounded the desk to lean against it, his arms crossed, the red under his fingernails left marks on his suit. 

You were getting fired and, possibly, blamed for murdering someone. 

When Max burst into laughter, it startled you. “Ah, excellent, a sense of humor. That’s what we like around here, Sugar. People who can dish out as good as they get. Did you know Patrick Chambers in HR once did a standup routine for the Christmas party? Guy has the laughs.” 

“I bet.” Jesus, shut up. 

Max clapped his hands together. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d help me with something.” 

When he pushed away from the desk, his foot kicked out, dragging your gaze down and- “That’s a head.” 

“Yes, it is, and you, Sugar, are going to help me keep that from happening.” Once more he smiled, canines extended.

“I’m not being fired?” 

Max winked. “Promoted more like it.” 

Two years, 6 days and 9 hours ago they handed you an NDA with a contract to help Max attain blood donations without killing (sometimes) people. 

(He still killed people, you learned, but only when they didn’t meet their quarterly goals) 

Since that day, you’ve spent hours on end in the man’s office with bags of blood being loaded into a built in cooler. Max wanted to throw them in all at once, but the blood was fragile. You had to make sure they stayed hanging and didn’t congeal before you could store them. Max had a penchant for B+ which meant you had to organize the other types as backups. 

Now and then you got stuck sitting in the office's corner as he held a stranger against the desk and bit down. 

“Nothing beats the fresh stuff, Sugar.” He’d aim a finger gun at you.

“You’re going to run out of suits if you keep it up on the clock.” You’d slip his dry cleaning receipt towards him. 

He’d given you three days off a week. Those three days you lived by a schedule of importance. 

Grocery shopping (vegetarian meals don’t last long) 

Bills (Max pays you a pretty penny) 

Therapy

Therapy is important. 

You’d been worried about the mental trauma you experienced every day working for Max. What gets brought up the most is your inability to form proper boundaries. 

“Your boss expects a lot of you.” Kathryn hums, her eyes focused on yours. 

“The vacation days are wonderful.” They really are. You could take your sister and three friends to San Diego last year for a week and afford to splurge your heart’s content. 

Sometimes, when you’re sitting across from your therapist you think about walking into Max’s office and finding another dead body. You think about the blood covering his suit, coating his hair, the way the air had a copper taste to it. It’d cross your mind faster than a hamster wheel and you always had the same reaction.

Indifference. 

Which, honestly, isn’t a surprise to you. 

You say it’s amazing compartmentalization skills. Kathryn says it’s deeply rooted repression. 

Tomato, tomahto. 

All that being said, nothing would have prepared you to walk into Max’s office on this day. Your bag is heavy over your shoulder with newly bagged blood. The door opened with a squeak, reminding you to ask Hamish for some WD-40. Looking up at the hinges distracts you from the noise. 

The squelch behind your head sounding like Max draining his last baggie. 

Your mind focused intently on what needed to be refilled that it took a solid thirty seconds for you to realize what was happening. 

The flex of Max’s ass, the sharp smack of hips against hips and the muffled moans of the woman he had bent over the desk. The same tie he’d wore the day you thought he’d fire you shoved into her mouth. 

Max had his hand circling her wrist, his other hand pinning her down. 

It wasn’t the blatant and unprofessional display of sex that had your mind reeling. 

It was how good Max looked, his mouth covered in blood, trails of it following the line of his chest. He tossed his jacket and left his shirt open. His slacks pooled around his ankles and you could see the tense hold of his thighs. 

There was blood running from the woman’s neck, her chest, her legs. Max had it on his fingers, caked beneath his nails. 

The first thought that bubbled to the surface and made its way out of your mouth stunned you. “Did you finish the Carpelix file first? 

You rarely remembered the name of the new blood pressure drug. 

Unless it involved your boss’s ass, you guess. 

The woman turned her head before Max did. Her eyes half lidded, spit drowning the tie. She had a pale hue to her skin, the pallor striking next to the dark wooden desk. 

She muffled something around the tie which had Max looking over his shoulder at you. 

“You’re back early.” He fucked into her, hard, jarring the desk that held them up. 

“Traffic was light.” With that, you walked towards the cooler. 

There was only one baggie left like you expected. An O negative, his least favorite. You tried not to stock up too much on O blood types. Sometimes you didn’t get lucky enough to wrangle A or B types and Max could suck it up. Literally. 

“Did you stop for bagels?” He sounded closer. You glanced back and shook your head as he buttoned up his pants. 

The woman was squirming, her hands slipping in the blood as she lifted herself up. You raised a brow at Max who looked down at the woman and frowned. 

“Regina,” He pulled her up, “You’ve met before, right?” He waved a hand towards you, the other circling her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

The woman, Regina, squinted at you. “I don’t know.” 

You squinted yourself, looking closer as Max slid his hand up her side. He cupped her breast his thumb brushing her nipple, and she shivered.

Max tilted her chin to the side, aiming her full gaze at you. 

“Regina Mallord.” You rolled your eyes. “She rear-ended my car a few months ago.” 

He smiled, “Did she?” 

Regina was whining as Max played with her, his fingers moving across her chest, over her nipples and back. She squirmed in his hold as blood dripped down her neck. Some of it dried around her collar bone, fingerprints marking through the path. 

“If I remember correctly,” Max murmured, “Your car was in the shop for a week, right? If I also remember, you had to Uber to work.”

You rolled your eyes again, “Yes, Max. You complained about me being late for a week straight — I wasn’t late. You’re just impatient in the mornings.” 

He nips at Regina’s ear. “I really am.” There’s a moment, a single moment, where your eyes meet. 

Max winks again, slowly, his mouth stretching as his face contorts, brow scrunching. The veins along his temples darkened before he opens his mouth wide and rips Regina’s throat out. 

Both of you watch her body hit the floor with a wet crash. 

You sigh, “What was the point of that?”

Max nudges her arm with his foot, stepping over her to move closer to you. “She was in the break room when I went to clean my cup.” 

“So, you decided to fuck her then kill her?” 

He reached out, his finger tracing the line of your jaw, “I planned on only killing her, but I got a bit rowdy.” 

You swiped his hand away. “A bit?” 

Max stepped closer, leaning against the cooler, his hand coming back up to touch your necklace. “I saw her car yesterday. I recognized it from you showing me the cameras. You had to pay almost 3000 to get your car fixed.” 

“Yeah,” You didn’t swipe him away this time, let him drag a path from your neck to your jaw, “That’s what I get for forgetting to re-up my insurance.” 

Max quirked a brow. “You’re a treasure, Sugar.” 

“You say that because I don’t question,” You directed your gaze at Regina’s body, “that.” 

“Hmm, yeah.” He leaned closer, “but also because you make my day a little better.”

A spike of pleasure shot down your spine, heat curling in your belly. Max’s eyes were deep pools that crinkled when he smiled. There was an innocence to them, a puppy dog look that made it hard to tell him no. 

It’s worse when he tilts his lips into a smile and aims his attention at you. 

You’d blame it on his hypnosis abilities, but you knew the truth — Max Phillips is a gorgeous son of a bitch. People rotate between wanting to stake him in the heart or suck his dick. 

Right now, you want to do both. 

Mostly the dick part. 

The other would spill more blood and Jeffery will have a hell of a time as is. 

“Sugar,” He drew your attention back to him, “How about I take you for dinner tonight?” 

You sigh, “Max,” His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah?” Another look at your lips. His tongue darts out to lick away the blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“Tomorrow is the corporate meeting.” Max frowns. 

“That’s not until July.” 

“Max,” His mouth flattens, “It is July.” 

The kiss was tangy, his lips sliding along yours. His tongue taste of blood, coffee, and something else. Something deeper. It tastes of Max. 

“Sugar,” He whispers when he pulls back, “Let me take you to dinner. It’s the least I could do for all that you do.” 

“Max.” 

“I love hearing you say my name.” He kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, harder his arm circling your waist to press you to his chest. 

What does it say about you that this was the best kiss you’ve ever had? Having Max Phillips groaning into your mouth, his fingers digging into your hip. You can feel the shift of his legs as he turned you around to press against the wall. 

The way his body fits against yours makes your knees weak. 

Your mind reeled, making you dizzy headed as he nipped at your jaw, down your neck. It was heady, heavy, the air thick around you. 

Your eyes fell on Regina’s dead body, and the kissing stopped. 

“Max.” He buries his face in your neck, “Max.” You push at his shoulder. 

He sighs, “Yes?” 

You aim your gaze at the corpse. “She’s staining the carpet.” 

Max barks out a laugh loud enough that it startles you. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, yeah? For now, you mind calling the cleaning staff and make sure Jeffery brings more than one bag.” 

Two years, 6 days and 10 hours since you thought you were going to be fired, and you had a date with your boss and call for a body clean up. 

Yay.

I have a whole thing with Max killing people for reader 🤨

[dot-cant-write]

A Different Chord - Sammy Lawrence x Reader (Part Five)

It’s getting busy at the studio, and you can’t find Sammy Lawrence.

A/N: In honor of BatDR not being dead, I have actually written stuff. (Sorry for the wait.)

————————————————————————

It had been nearly half a year since your lessons with Sammy began, and things were busier than ever in the studio. It had been at least a week since your last banjo lesson (though admittedly, they were turning into sessions where you told Sammy gossip from around the studio). One day on your break, you headed down to the Music Department to see Sammy.

Henry had practically kicked you out of the art department anyway, complaining that you’re too young to work straight through the day. He said he was gonna have to talk to to Joey about that. Breaks were practically nonexistent in the studio, after all, especially as of late. Joey Drew’s deadlines were becoming more and more imposing and strict. Now that you thought about it, everyone seemed more on edge lately. You rolled your shoulders back and moseyed towards the music director’s office.

When you got there, you were surprised to see that his office was empty. Maybe he was still with the band? You went down the hall to check. As you rounded the corner into the practice room, you frowned. The room was empty. The band must not be meeting today. Or maybe they were taking their own break. Either way, the practice room was empty.

“Don’t know where he went, kiddo. Kicked us all out awhile ago.” A drawling voice made you jump. Turning around, you found Norman Polk on the balcony, fidgeting with a projector.

“That Sammy Lawrence is a strange one, I’ll tell ya… Once he kicked the band out, he ran all the way up here. Heard him flip the projector on, then he ran all the back down here. He played some instruments or somethin’, and he hasn’t come out for a long time. Peculiar man, dunno what you see in him,” Norman continued. That was the most you’d ever heard him speak. Your face reddened a little at his words.

“He’s just teaching me how to play the banjo, Mr. Polk! Don’t get the wrong idea,” you defended.

Norman grinned like the cheshire cat. “I think you’d better tell him that. Never seen that crazy composer as happy as he is when he’s teachin’ you.”

You shook your head hopelessly, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I’m going to go find Sammy, Mr. Polk.” With that, you exited the room and started searching around, ignoring what Norman had said.

You couldn’t find Sammy anywhere, oddly enough. You swore he never left the music department, and Norman mentioned he’d been in the band room, but there was no sign of the musician. Instead, you’d decided to settle down in his office and wait for him to return.

—————————

Sammy’s office had become a bit busier as of late. Joey Drew had pipes installed to carry ink for some weird sort of project, and the switch for the pumps was placed there. People often came in and out of the office, usually GENT workers or janitors like Wally. Sammy’s desk had also become a bit messier. It had been a lot busier in the studio and you hadn’t had as frequent lessons… Since when had it become so unorganized?

After turning Sammy’s radio on, you started to stack the sheet music scattered across his desk. There were a lot of ink stains on the music. Come to think of it, there were also a lot of ink bottles in his rubbish bin… Why was he going through so much ink?

You shrugged it off once you noticed a black notebook under the sheet music you’d sorted. Curiosity gnawed on your bones, and as you started to reach for the book—

“(Y/N), you’re in my office.” Sammy Lawrence appeared, leaning on the doorframe. He looked slightly amused.

“Um yup, sure am. It’s a disaster in here, you should hire a maid,” You joked lightly, hoping he hadn’t seen you reach for his notebook.

“How long have you been waiting here?” Sammy asked. Changing the subject.

“Only for a little while. Where have you been? Got time for a lesson?”

The composer only responded to the latter question. “Only a short one. Joey has me writing songs for three different Bendy cartoons, all due tonight.” His expression soured.

“Why not work on those then? I don’t mind.”

“You’re just a distraction, I won’t be able to write much while you’re here. Besides, I have… certain things I have to do. Alone,” he added hastily.

Odd. “Do you want me to leave? Am I too distracting?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows playfully. You tried to keep Norman’s words from creeping back into your head.

“Oh, can it. Quit being a child,” Sammy said, but you swear a smile crept up on his face.

“Make me,” you chided lightly. Sammy strode over to where you were sitting at his desk. He towered over you normally, but was even taller while you sat. Leaning down, the musician placed a hand on his desk. He stared straight into your eyes, smirking. He was so close-

The moment was over in an instant. Turning away, he chuckled. “That’s what I thought. Now please, let me work.”

You should probably tell him what Norman said…

You decided not to.

[noperopesaredope]

My F*cked Up Collector Backstory AU (Pt. 1)

So, recently I made a post mentioning that I kinda made a small AU type concept for an alternate Collector backstory. A backstory that I described as “kinda really fucked up, even for me”. It seems that a few people are interested, and I believe that it would be fun to at least just put out there for my fellow Collector angst lovers. Maybe even my general angst lovers. Possibly a few Hunter angst lovers? Who knows.

Probably just gonna call this the “Servitude Collector AU”. Might make other types of posts related to it. Might make a few OCs. It kinda relies/thrives on OCs. The OCs won’t quite be the focus of the AU, but they will be important to it.

Anyways, I didn’t quite properly write this out in the form of a proper, straightforward description. Instead, I thought of what is more of a half written one-shot in which I torment Luz and King by making them incredibly uncomfortable as Colly just kinda casually trauma-dumps on them a bit because Colly doesn’t realize how deeply disturbing the topic is.

This is the first part of that thing:

So the Collector now lives in the Owl House with the Owl Fam (might also just live with Camila, but hangs out sometimes in the Demon Realm), and is slowly becoming a functioning member of society. He’s actually relatively chill once you get to know him, just a bit bratty and way too powerful for his age. He also has a habit of saying some…questionable remarks. This is a particularly noteworthy incident.

So Luz, Colly, and King are all chilling in the house, each doing their own thing in the living room. Luz mentions that she needs to go in a few minutes.

Colly, who is eating a sandwich, pauses and asks, “wait, which friend is that one again?”

Luz: “You know, Hunter. The tall, blonde guy? Friend of mine? Doesn’t seem to like you? Used to be the Golden Guard? You probably know him.”

Then Colly casually drops this one-liner: “Oh, right, Belos’ pet.”

The other two people in the room freeze at this, and Luz slowly turns to him to make what is approximately this facial expression:

King, who knows exactly what’s going on here, quickly says: “Collector, buddy, we talked about this.”

The Collector scoffs. “Oh here we go again. I already told you, like, a bajillion times: 1) it’s a cultural thing, 2) it wasn’t that bad, and 3) it wasn’t slavery,” he says before crossing his arms.

Luz is now deeply alarmed, but King and Colly are completely lost in their own little argument at this point.

King: “Based on the way you described it before, it sounds exactly like slavery.”

Colly: “Just because we were considered property, and had little personal rights, and were domestic servants, and could face cruel and unusual punishments for disobedience, and had no property of our own, and were under the threat of execution if we tried to escape, and…okay, that does sound exactly like slavery when I say all that out loud, but I promise you that it isn’t. Besides, it wasn’t all that bad. I mean, I turned out great.”

Luz, quietly, to herself: “Ah, yes, great, well, that’s one way to say it.”

Colly: “Besides, we had some rights. We couldn’t be executed without permission from the king, we were allowed to have guards (we couldn’t really hire our own or ask for them, but we could have them), and it was illegal to punish any of us in ways that would give long lasting physical scars and/or injuries (though, in a society full of magic, that doesn’t mean much).”

King: “Besides the guards, that is less than the bare minimum.”

Colly: “Well since only the royals could have pets, we all lived with pretty well off people, and they would typically treat us pretty well if we behaved. We got nice food, comfortable living spaces, fancy clothes, all that nice stuff. We also never had to do any hard labor unless it involved magic, so I’d say we lived in luxury. Unless your person wasn’t very nice. Then it became a lot more complicated.”

Luz, finally deciding to speak up: “Um, I just have a small question to ask.”

Both turn to her, remembering that she’s present, and Colly gestures for her to continue.

Luz: “Yeah, so, what are you two…talking about? Like, what even is a ‘pet’ in this context?”

Colly gets clearly excited to explain, and immediately begins infodumping.

Colly: “Okay, so, in my species, we have your typical caste system-”

Luz: “Wait, caste system?!”

Colly, annoyed at being interrupted: “Yeah, you know, caste system. Do humans not know what that is?”

Luz: “No, we do…lemme just go grab something real quick.”

She runs out of the room really quickly and scrambles back in with a journal and pencil in hand. The journal is labeled “‘Discussion’ Topics to Have With the Collector”, which is essentially Luz/Camila’s shared journal that basically functions as Colly’s therapy folder, but in journal form. Everyone in our squad has their own “‘Discussion’ Topics” journal (“‘Discussion’ Topics to Have With Luz”, “‘Discussion’ Topics to Have With Hunter”, etc). I would just like to let that be known.

Luz sits back down and opens the journal, ready to start writing.

Luz: “Okay, I’m ready. Go!”

The next part occurs with more visual storytelling stuff.

Colly: “So, ours is, from top to bottom: Monarchs, Nobles, Potential Nobles (which are powerful families that might become nobles), Starkeepers, Planet Organizers, Grand Military, Space Jumpers, Researchers, Librarians, Scholars, Assistant Librarians, Guards, Commoners, and Servants, though nobody is really born a servant. 

If a child is born a commoner, but has unusually high magical potential, then they will typically be taken by the Royal Magic Tracking Agency and sent to the nearest Starkeeper, who will perform a few tests before announcing that a new ‘Servant’ is available. They will label how powerful the child is, therefore determining what type of servant they will be, and hold an auction of sorts overseen by the monarchs. Only nobles and the monarchs can get servants, and nobles are typically only allowed to have one of each type of servant. Monarchs can have a couple, but they are very picky, and only have a few at most, especially considering the number of assassinations some of the servants have planned on each other.

There are a few types of servants: There’s Planners, who do things like keeping track of your records and organizing your schedule and reminding you of important things you need to do and writing things down for you and stuff. There’s Bodyguards, who are your personal protectors at your side at all times. There’s Caretakers, who do things like clean the home and make food and set things out for parties and occasionally act as waiters and stuff. There’s also a few other ones that I don’t really remember. 

And then there’s Pets! Pets are basically there to entertain. You can dress them up to make them look pretty, have them stand around as decorations at parties, do entertainment stuff like singing and dancing and cool tricks, and even play games and stuff! I’d say that Pets are the best, since we don’t have as many responsibilities as the others, besides playing with kids sometimes, if the nobles have any. We’re also often some of the most powerful.

The complicated thing about us Pets is that we have a weird place in the caste system. We’re often considered more important than Commoners and even Guards, and some of us can tell them what to do (depending on the situation), but we aren’t really considered ‘people.’ We’re kind of like really expensive objects. Like, we’re important and powerful people often find us to be more important than not powerful people, and we get taken care of and treated as valuable, but if anyone said that the object should have rights, everyone would laugh. I mean, sure it’s valuable, but it’s not a person. And if someone had to choose between either saving, say, a Commoner, or saving a Pet, everyone would save the Commoner.

And that’s how Pets are viewed. We’re valued, but we don’t really have any kind of bodily autonomy…but hey! It’s better than being a caretaker! Those guys are seriously overlooked and neglected. It’s honestly kinda sad. But I can’t really say anything about that. My Lady was really mad last time…”

Colly spaces out for a second, and Luz stops writing as she and King both look at each other, concerned.

~~~~

So, this got a lot longer than initially planned. I’m just split this up into multiple posts. I’ll add their links to this once I’m done with them.

Anyways, hope ya’ll find it interesting!

[get-your-fuckin-star-bitch]

Completely forgot to write this into the draft but Michael would have just sat down at the desk, spun around in the chair a bit, then noticed one of those little plaques sitting on the desk with the words “Head Archivist” engraved on it.

Cue buffering/loading/dial-up noises, followed by the sound of his head completely exploding. /hj

Although, it would honestly be even funnier if he saw it, assumed it got mixed up in his stuff somehow, (or just got left there from when this was Gertrude’s office), and went to Jon to ask him if he could take it to Elias for him.

And Jon just gives him a weird look- “…Why. Do you want another one?” (Sarcastically)

“What? No- I- I just wanted to give this to someone so they can return it to-“ a little stab of pain upon remembering that Gertrude is no longer head archivist, as he’d just been about to say her name… “um. Wh-who’s… who… will be taking over for… Gertrude…”

And Jon is just looking at Michael like he’s just asked what color his own hair is, before apparently realizing something and sighing so VERY heavily-

“They didn’t- Tim. Tim didn’t tell you anything, did he.”

“Well they were going very well out of their way not to- hold on- wait. Wait, you don’t mean-? You don’t mean ME-“

And THAT’S when his head explodes. /j

Thoughts about this below the cut, just in case anyone wants to know why it’s Michael instead of Jon, cause I know it seems unrealistic, but I swear to you, there is thought and reasoning behind this.

So… look at this from Elias’s perspective for a moment, if you will.

Jon, obviously, was hired in the hopes of having him replace Gertrude eventually, which would get Jonah’s plan under way. But there is a problem for him with this, and it is, unfortunately, a person. And people aren’t predictable. They do not do what you want them to do, no matter how hard you try to get them to do it. No matter how many strings you tie around their necks, they will wind up finding a way to follow some other path than the one you’re guiding them along.

Michael is a problem for him.

He had thought he could get rid of him by pulling him back into the archives and setting the whole thing on fire, but somehow… he was more than aware that some power was trying to interfere. But he wouldn’t let it take control of his archive.

No. He had to stop it, somehow, and there was only one thing he could do about it.

He had to put Michael in charge.

The man was underqualified enough. And Gertrude had done the job of preventing him from having access to any of the knowledge he’d have actually needed in order to run the archives, so naturally, Jonah could control him as far as he would need to. It was all just a matter of sinking the correct links into him, tethering to whatever boulder he needed to, and letting it roll him off of a cliff.

If he proved to be useful, then all the better for him, he supposed.

[ I don’t like thinking with Elias/Jonah’s brain at ALL-

His mind legitimately feels like it’s rotten. No, not “oh he’s a bad, rotten guy”, I mean currently ROTTING or some shit. To the point where all the bits that might have contained his humanity and empathy are gone, and only the “necessary” bits are still there. A corroded, inhuman mess. Guh. I wish I could wash that shit off or something- (/lh-ish) ]