#them pausing to explain the atmosphere change is. so so good

[touchstone-telephone]

TM59 cargo scene......

[loveyjelly]

Raw Roulette

CW // MDNI, SMUT, foursome, handjobs, blowjobs, piv, creampie, slight mentions of exhibitionism

(I changed the title because i love alliteration)

"Regretting inviting all of us over for dinner?" Rafayel teased, crawling over to you and trailing kisses from your collarbone to your neck. As much as you want to maintain your composure, you give in and let out a whine.

"Doesn't sound like it to me." Zayne smirked, as he kept your back pressed to his chest, both of you sitting up on your bed.

"Are you enjoying this?" Xavier's hand rested on your thigh, sitting on the edge of the bed and occupying the across Rafayel. He pushed the hem of your dress up to move his hands to your inner thigh.

The overwhelming sensation is starting a fire in your lower abdomen. "This wasn't supposed to happen." You sharply inhale, trying so hard to contain yourself. What would they think of you when they find out that you're enjoying being aroused by three men at the same time?

You didn't think that the night would end up with you being surrounded by barely clothed men vying for your attention, vying for you to make them feel good.

"Do you want us to stop?" Zayne's hot breath tickling your ear is getting you more worked up. Your breath hitched and you involuntarily squeezed your legs together, accidentally trapping Xavier's hands between your thighs. He gently moved one of your legs to separate them.

"Yes or no, Love. We need to hear it from you." Xavier's eyes still shined of innocence even in the dark lighting that matched the soon-to-be carnal atmosphere.

"Don't stop" You mumbled, unable to properly get your words out.

"Speak up, Princess." Rafayel took one of your hands and kissed the back of it.

"Please don't stop."

As if their brains synced together, they resumed with what they were doing except now there was nothing holding them back from having their way with you.

Rafayel started licking and sucking on your neck, marking you as if that was the only way he could make it obvious to the other two that he needs you more than they do.

Xavier's hands roamed across your thighs. He couldn't get enough of how they feel against his palm and how you shiver and gasp whenever his fingers would brush over your panties.

Zayne enjoyed when you arch your back from the pleasure since your ass pressed against his bulge every time you did. "Would you even be able to take all of us at the same time?"

"We can't make her too tired, she's going on a date with me tomorrow." Rafayel smirked as he watched the other two pause.

"Wait you said you were going to help me with a mission tomorrow." The grip Xavier had on your thigh tightened as he looked at you with a slight pout.

"And you promised me that we'd have lunch together at the restaurant near the hospital." Zayne's arm starts to snake around your waist, every inch of your back covering his chest.

"I didn't realize I had those plans all at the same date." Trying to explain yourself was a lot harder with the three of them looking at you, expecting you to either choose between them or come up with a compromise.

"I have an idea," Rafayel said. The grin on his face tells them that it was going to be something so outrageous. "Why don't we play Russian roulette with her pussy?"

"Elaborate" Zayne's interest was piqued. He's been waiting for your shared lunch for a few days now, no way was he going to let anyone else have your time but him.

"We take turns fucking her and the last man she cums on gets to have her precious time tomorrow."

"That sounds good to me, I'm surprised you were the one that came up with that idea." Xavier's soft but nonchalant tone made the comment sound more condescending.

"Are you okay with that?" Zayne looked for your approval. He didn't want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.

"Mhmm" You're already at your limit from the anticipation.

"Use your words, Miss" Rafayel coaxed.

"I'm okay with it" You obeyed, barely getting the words out without whimpering.

"You just don't want us to stop touching you, do you?" Xavier moved his hands to the soaked fabric of your panties. "Mmm already so wet for us, maybe we should let you cool down first."

"Yeah, if we keep going then you might cum as soon as you get one of our cocks inside you." Rafayel rubbed one of your arms as his lips tickled your neck while he spoke.

"I won't" You were just being delusional at this point. Having this many hands touching you and the filthy words being thrown around the room was enough to make you spill out.

"We're gonna hold you to that. Now, how do we pick which one goes first." Zayne's hands traveled from your waist up to your tits, earning a gasp from you.

"The last one that got here, should go first" Rafayel grinned at Xavier.

"For just 20 minutes!" He protested. "But I'm fine with that, I know she'll be a good girl and hold it in for me, won't you?" He gently grabbed your face to make you stare at his eyes as if it was to serve as an unspoken promise.

Xavier swiftly removed your underwear and immediately glided his fingers through your folds. Looking up at you again, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked off your slick like it was nectar.

"I can't take it anymore, please just let me have it." Your whole body shivered as Zayne started unzipping your dress, Rafayel helping him raise it above your head.

"Let you have what?" Xavier hasn't taken his eyes off you.

"I haven't heard her be this needy ever, I think I might get addicted to how you sound right now." You couldn't handle how Rafayel kept speaking while his lips are just a hair away from your neck.

Zayne remained quiet. He felt conflicted, you look so divine when your eyes are glazed with pure lust and ecstasy but he hated sharing you with the other two. He hated how they made you feel good too. Hearing you beg for Xavier just made him want to fuck you rough and raw in front of them and let them know that if you ever needed a good fuck, he'll be the one you'd call. Just him and no one else.

"Are you sure you want to skip that part?" Xavier asked. He loves eating you out but if you want him inside already then he can't deny you that. To him, your words are gospels that need to be fulfilled. If you want him to fuck you how you want it, then he's more than glad to do that as long as you don't cum.

Rafayel finally peeled himself off your side and reached something from your nightstand drawer. "I knew you'd have it here, maybe you were expecting this to happen." He handed you the bottle of lube and was stuck at your side again. "Go on, if you want him inside then you're going to have to help him out a little bit." 

Xavier was surprised Rafayel was helping you out when it came to him. He always saw him as a self serving diva or maybe he's doing it just for you.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, revealing his cock already so hard for you. "It's all yours, Princess. Come here." He pulled you away from the other men and positioned you on top of him, your hips hovered over his thighs to give you space for what you needed to do.

Xavier heard Zayne click his tongue and Rafayel sighs. He shifted his focus back to you, watching your hands as they shake while pouring the lube onto your hands.

"Relax, it's just me." His hand enveloped your wrist to stop it from shaking so much.

"We're here too" Rafayel grumbled and Zayne let out a soft chuckle at the comment. You turned your head to face him but Xavier used his free hand to cup your cheek and guide your sight back to him.

"He'll have his turn later. But for now, your attention is all mine." He leaned in and brought his lips to yours to give you a quick kiss for encouragement.

You heard Xavier's sharp inhale once his cock was in your palm. 

"Move your hand." He gently instructed, trying to focus on you despite the coldness of the lube and the warmth of your hand mixing.

The rustling of the sheets brought Xavier's attention to Zayne who is now getting closer to you again. "What? I can't let you two have all the fun" He places his hand flat on your shoulder blade, making you flinch from the sudden change in temperature.

"Don't overheat, Angel. You have a whole night to get through." He snuck up behind and planted a light kiss behind your ear.

"Don't leave me out!" Rafayel was right behind you but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he was pouting. "They might make the whole night all about them if we didn't interfere." He rested his head on your shoulder.

"Don't look at us like that, Xavier. We're just here to offer some...support." Something mischievous flashed in Zayne's eye. "No one said the others should stay back while it's someone's turn."

"Fuck" He muttered, the whole time your hand your hand stayed stroking his cock.

The banter between the three of them helped ease the tension that previously built up in your chest.

"Less nervous now, Love?" Zayne noticed that you weren't as shaky as before, stroking your hair and giving you a small smile.

"I can't wait any longer, can I put it inside?" Xavier got harder the more you stroked him. He felt like he couldn't breathe until you said yes to his plea.

You took your hand off his dick and nodded, preparing for what position he'd fuck you in. It was like you were their personalized and shared fuck doll. 

"I'm so sorry, Princess. I'm gonna have to be a little rough." Xavier was so worked up he couldn't even bother to ask anymore but he knew you'd tell him to stop if you weren't fine with it.

He flipped you over on your hands and knees. The view was a little embarrassing if you were going to be honest. The other two looked at you and you couldn't help but feel small.

"Didn't know you had that in you, Xavier" Rafayel mused. "Aw, little miss has watery eyes. Are you that needy for a good fucking?" He reached for your face and caressed your cheeks using his thumb.

"She deserves one." Xavier's tip was teasing your entrance.

"Xavier, please." You squeaked out.

"Oh, I can't wait until she's begging for me." Zayne grabbed one of your hands and placed your palm on top of his erection. "I'll have to settle with this for now."

Xavier slowly pushed his cock inside you, his movements got more urgent and firm but he still observed your reaction to know if he should continue.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he pushes himself in, making you take it up to the base. He started thrusting in a quick steady rhythm that made you grip the sheets. It had completely slipped your mind that your other hand was holding Zayne's dick.

"Easy there, Angel. Come on, you can please one more man, right?" He slowly guided your hand in an up and down rhythm that intentionally matched Xavier's thrust. He closed his eyes and pretended that he was fucking you already.

"Mind if I use this one?" Rafayel hooked his thumb inside your mouth prompting you to open it wider. "I know you'll take it so well." He scooted closer so you don't have to move, placing your free arm on his thighs for support.

"Ah, that's it. Take it at your own pace, Baby." Rafayel put his hand on the back of your head and enjoyed the sight of you swallowing his whole length. "Fucking impressive, you're so good at this." He praised your skills.

"You're clenching around me already." Xavier huffed.

"My turn." Zayne interrupted and put his hand on top of yours, stopping you from jerking him off. "I need to have this pretty little thing now." 

The three rotated positions. Like clockwork, you immediately had your hands on Rafayel's dick, stroking him at the same pace that Zayne had you do. Xavier had you in the same position as Rafayel but this time he's holding your hand.

"Mmm your mouth feels just as good, Princess." Xavier threw his head back from the immense pleasure. He never felt this good using his own hands. Maybe he can call you for help whenever he needs to masturbate.

You can hear Zayne's groans as he drilled your pussy like his life depended on it. "You're getting wetter. Don't tell me you're getting close."

Your moans are muffled by Xavier's cock, making it harder to tell Zayne that you're seconds away from cuming. You feel Zayne slow down. "Does my Angel want to cum?"

You couldn't answer back, you were too preoccupied. "Look at me" His voice was stern but still had a hint of gentleness behind it.

You took Xavier's dick out of your mouth and turned your head to look back at Zayne. He wished he could pause time right now. You looked so brilliant in your current pose. Your eyes are all watery, lips swollen, a mix drool and precum trickling from the side of your mouth, and two other men panting from the pleasure you gave them.

"I'll let you cum right now if you promise that you'll reschedule our lunch to a date that doesn't include other plans. Do I make myself clear, Angel?" His cock stayed buried deep inside you, it made it so hard to focus on what he was saying.

"I promise" You mumbled.

"Louder"

"I promise, Zayne. Please let me cum" You begged.

"Good girl. Now get ready to be fucked the way you deserve to be fucked." He starts thrusting again, his body remembering the tempo it was following earlier.

"Letting yourself lose just for her, how noble." Rafayel just had to poke fun at Zayne. Too bad he almost couldn't get the words out since he was panting like a dog that just played fetch for an hour.

"My Princess cuming on someone else's cock? I should've just forfeited earlier." Xavier tried to give you a cute pout but failed. Your mouth felt too good to joke around at the moment.

Zayne's cock was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. You can feel your orgasm building up, coming in waves in your lower abdomen.

"Just let it all out, Angel. I'm close too." He kept the beat of his thrust the same to help you get to your peak.

"Zayne!" You exclaimed as you arch your back from the satisfaction, sending shivers all over your body. Your limbs twitched and you had Xavier and Rafayel help you hold yourself up. He continued going in and out until you felt him grip your hips tight, his warm cum covering every existing inch of your walls.

"Did that feel too good, Baby?" Rafayel grabbed your face and lifted it up to meet his gaze. You nodded. "I can tell, you couldn't even focus on us anymore."

"It's okay, Princess. But now we'll have to be a little selfish." Xavier kissed your shoulder and pinned you down on your back, your head barely on the mattress.

"You ready?" He positioned himself on top of you, slapping his dick against your pussy.

"Ready" You whispered.

He slid his cock inside, pushing out Zayne's cum. "Feels good to be back."

"Don't forget about me" Rafayel's fingers grazed your throat. He gets out of the bed and stands near the top of your head.

Xavier figured out what Rafayel wanted to do. He grabbed your waist and pushed you out of the bed by a few inches.

"Perfect." Rafayel wrapped his hand on your throat and slowly let your mouth and tongue do their thing. He had to get you used to that position first.

Zayne laid down and reached for your hand. "You did so well, Angel." Taking the back of your hand and tenderly kissing it.

Meanwhile, Xavier was barely hanging on by a thread. The sweet sound your moans make alone could've made him cum but fucking you was an option so he took it.

The original game plan has been derailed but none of the boys could complain. The sound of your gasps, whimpers, and moans echoing off the walls were like music to their ears.

You didn't have to move as Rafayel moved his hips and used your throat as a pussy. "No matter what you do you always feel so good." He pushed his cock down the back of your throat and held it there for a few seconds just to hear you gag and gargle spit.

"Oh, does that turn you on more? I felt you clench." Xavier thrusted faster, ready to give you another orgasm.

Zayne loved this lewd side of you. It was like you were their personal fuck toy just for this night. He can't deny that he had fun fucking you in front of other people. You really do bring sides of him he didn't think he had.

You couldn't tell Xavier that you were about to cum. The next best way was to put your hand on his forearm and squeeze it.

"I'm about to cum too, Princess." He said, it's like he read your mind.

"Fuck, me too." Rafayel moaned. "Squeeze his arm if you want all of us to cum with you, Baby."

You squeeze Xavier's hand until your nails dig into his skin.

"She says yes." Xavier and Rafayel shared a smirk.

In just a few seconds, you let go and experience another round of ecstasy. Your senses were almost non-existent after being pounded and choked by multiple cocks.

Xavier and Rafayel let out several loud moans as they slow down their thrust after reaching their peak. Both of them slowly pull out and immediately reach out to you to make sure you're okay.

The content look in your eyes and smile was a good enough answer to their question.

Rafayel scooped you into his arms and placed you in the middle of your bed. "Take all the time you need to rest, okay? You did such an amazing job." He reassured you, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

Despite the guys being breathless and tired too, they still went out of their way to make sure you were well taken care of after. They'll also have to figure out how they'll fit into your schedule next week since the game didn't go as planned.

The thoughtful gestures, sweet words of affirmation, and future plans will have to wait because their favorite girl just fell asleep.

(Alexa, play Love Talk by WayV on loop)

(Technicallyyyy Rafayel won)

@queenashen

buy me coffee

[sometimesanalice]

Oh Christmas Tree

Summary: Bradley’s never been one to look forward to the holidays, that is until he met you. He’s excited to do everything, including getting his very first real Christmas tree.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, allusions to smut. Minors DNI.

Length: 7.2K 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(What was supposed to be a quick fluffy Christmas fic, somehow turned into this, enjoy!)

The atmosphere at the Hard Deck was livelier than usual, the music seemed more upbeat and the voices a little louder. It was the first time in a while that the entire Dagger Squad was together in one place. News of the success of the Uranium Mission traveled fast and had been keeping them busy in the months that had followed.

Things seemed to settle down a bit as the holidays rolled around, some has dispersed home for Thanksgiving while a few others had been given last minute orders to ship out for a short mission. You’d been dying to take Bradley Bradshaw home to meet your parents in person, but he had been one of the few sent away only set to return the day after Thanksgiving.

You’re sitting across from Natasha at a high top near the pool tables in the back of the bar listening to Jake talk about his visit home, while your boyfriend next to you talks animatedly about something related to his latest mission with Bob.

“I shaved off an extra 5 minutes from the last Trot. Turns out I’m in even better shape than I was the last time I was home for Thanksgiving,” Jake brags smugly taking a swig of his beer from his nearly empty bottle.

“Wait, you come from a Turkey Trot family? That explains so much. Please tell me, you guys wear matching Seresin family shirts for it too,” you tease without remorse. “Oh! Or maybe those turkey leg bobble headbands?” 

You hear Bradley snort into his beer as he drops a well-defined arm across your shoulders. He’s wearing one of your favorite Hawaiian shirts from his collection, and you’ve been having a hard time keeping your eyes and hands to yourself.

“Bradshaw! Are you going to let your girl trash talk me like that?” You turn to Bradley to see him smirk with a shrug at Jake’s indignation.

“I mean, if the headband fits,” he replies lifting his bottle up in cheers.

“Darlin’, you wound me. And for the record they don’t match, since we all get to decorate our own with those paints in the little squeeze bottles,” he says pointing his empty bottle at you before turning to Bradley, “And see if I ever save your smug ass again.” He walks away making his way to the bar for another beer.

“Formal petition to change his callsign to Turkey now. Him and Rooster could be the Bird Bros,” Natasha jokes after he’s out of earshot. “What about you, how was your trip home?”

“It was pretty good,” you feel Bradley start playing with the ends of your hair, while he picks his conversation with Bob back up. “Since my sister had the baby, my parents have been leaning into the new grandparent thing pretty hard. So I set to establishing myself as the fun wine aunt, and basically drank cranberry mimosas all day.” You pause to take a sip of your drink, “Which I regretted immediately the next day when my parents decided it was imperative that we all go to their favorite Christmas tree farm as soon as it opened to cut one down together. Baby’s first Christmas all.” You unlock your phone to pull up the folder you made of pictures from the visit, handing over your phone to let her scroll.

“Since they’re flying out to spend Christmas with my sister and her in-laws in Philly, I tried to talk them into an artificial tree. Which is blasphemy where I’m from, I’m pretty sure the state tree is the Douglas Fir. My family takes the tree hunt very seriously, there’s a science to it and everything,” you lean over to swipe past some of the selfies you took to show her the completed tree in your parents sitting room. 

“However, as you can see, my attempt to talk them into the lower maintenance, yet slightly ostentatious, fluffy pink tree of my dreams was met with a hard pass,” you say laughing to yourself.

She swipes backwards a couple times on the pictures. “This one is cute, why didn’t you post this photo?” she asks holding your phone up showing a selfie of you at the tree farm.

“Which one? Let me see,” Bradley requests, his conversation with Bob now abandoned. He’s already leaning into you and reaching across the high top with his large hands to take the phone from Nat.

It was a photo of you that Bradley hadn’t seen before. You were pink nosed wrapped up in cozy looking scarf, surrounded by pine trees and grinning into the camera. And his heart swells at the sight of the image before him. It’s just so you.

“You really look pretty,” he states sincerely. He glances at you briefly to see a hint of a blush spread across your cheeks before turning his gaze back to the picture of you.

He’d known you had been just as eager as he was for to him come home with you to meet your parents in person. You had even concocted a plan that involved him to try and help you get your hands on your Aunt Christine’s corn soufflé recipe.

“My mom has tried to get it for years, and she refuses to share it with anyone!” you’d lamented to him one evening after a couple large glasses of wine. “She always says she’ll email it, but she never does!” You gesture wildly. He loved getting to know all sides of you, but two-drink you was a particular favorite of his.

“Mmm. Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep,” he nodded along in solidarity.

“Exactly, Bradley! You get it!” You take another long, deep sip of your Merlot, your feet tucked under you on his couch. “Me with my wiles and you with your Rooster charisma, I think this might be the year! I’ll set the groundwork and you can lay the ruggedly-handsome-impossibly-sexy-American-hero-thing on thick,” he loved how animated you were getting and he was having a hard time keeping the indulgent smile off of his face. “And she’ll fall right into our trap and release the goods all while thinking she’s staring in her own Hallmark movie.” He knew he would do anything for you, what his girl wants she gets. If that involves some light to heavy flirting with your aunt, so be it. He was getting soufflé recipe for you one way or another.

However, those plans were quickly dashed when he got the mission orders at the last minute. His stomach was in knots when it came time to tell you, but you were quick to put him at ease by reminding him there was always next year. “Plus” you’d said, “it gives us a whole year to craft our Stealthy Soufflé Scheme. Although, maybe we can pop up in May or June? I want to show you all the sights, we can even go hiking! And I’m definitely planning on taking you on a beer tour.”

“That sounds like the perfect trip, Sweetheart. I’d love that. I’ll see about getting a request submitted first thing in the morning,” he was already setting a reminder in his phone so he wouldn’t get too distracted at work and forget. He wasn’t going to let you down again.

“Oh. That’s probably one I snapped really quick and forgot to send to Bradley. I was probably already spamming him too much as it was,” you answer in response to Natasha’s question. Even though you knew exactly why that one never made it his inbox.

Since you’d be spending the holiday apart, Bradley had requested that you send him pictures throughout your visit so that he didn’t feel like he was missing anything. You had sent him ones of you at the grocery store with your mom, of you holding your niece, a few silly ones fueled by too many champagne heavy mimosas, and some less family friendly shots of you in bed wearing the deep wine-colored lacy lingerie set you had planned to surprise him with. And then a few without the lingerie set too.

You had known he wouldn’t have the best reception, so you sent them as things happened knowing that he’d respond whenever he could. You just wanted them there waiting for him. However, a few days in was getting hard to know what was too much when all you could see were all your outgoing messages to him.

You had felt yourself getting a little self-conscious and started second guessing the things you sent, like the picture from the tree farm. You didn’t want to go overboard and scare him off or make it seem like you were rubbing his face in all the things he was missing while he was on assignment. You had just wanted him to know that you were thinking about him- which was pretty much all the time.

Turning your head to take him in next to you. He’s sitting there with a soft smile on his face while he is tapping away on your phone. When his phone lights up mere moments later, you realize he’d just sent the image to himself and was now paging through the folder looking for others.

“For being a Communications Specialist, you’re really bad about updating your own social media. That one was definitely worthy of making it to the grid,” Nat announces as she slides off the barstool taking Bob with her to go dominate on one of the pool tables.

Bradley hands you your phone back. “You know, I’ve never been to a Christmas tree farm. Or even had a real tree for that matter,” he murmurs a bit ruefully when it’s just the two of you, picking at the label of the bottle Natasha had left behind.

“When I was younger we only ever had a fake tree. And then after my mom passed, everything with Mav, and moving around so much I just kind of didn’t ever want to think about it. I never thought to get anything for myself.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I’m really happy you’re sticking around to show me the ropes this year,” he says earnestly, sounding much lighter than before.

The thought of him fending for himself for so long makes your heart hurt. You lean into him pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy you want to spend the day with me,” you tell him brushing your nose against his as you pull away. 

“I did my good daughter duties, but flying home during the one of busiest days of the year was enough for me. And I wouldn’t want to subject you to the Richardson’s by going to Philly, my parents call them the Dickardson’s for a reason,” making a face that causes him to laugh.

“We’re going to have the best Christmas together, I wouldn’t want to spend the day with anyone else.” This time when you pull him in for another kiss your lips are eager to meet his. The slide of his mouth against yours never fails to make your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You could spend days kissing Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and never want to break for air. It’s only at the sound of someone’s loud wolf whistle that you break apart as you’re brought back the moment.

“You know, I’m still not over the fact that my girlfriend withheld such ‘compelling content’ from me,” he teases, using air quotes the buzzwords he’s heard you say from listening to one too many of your late night zoom meetings.

“It was the last day! You were getting in before me, and I thought you’d want the real deal instead. And to tell the truth, I didn’t know if I was overdoing it. I didn’t want to make you feel left out,” you explain honestly. You’ve always been the type to keep those insecurities to yourself, but you’ve been trying to do better. He makes you feel safe enough to open up without holding back.

“Sweetheart.” He picks up your hand his mustache brushing the back of it as he places a kiss there. “You could never overdo it. Spam away, send me everything. I love getting those pictures, it makes me feel closer to you. But, I do know how you could make it up to me.” As he sends a mischievous wink your way.

You’re hit with a brief vision of you on your knees before him in that wine-colored set he still has yet to see in person. 

“Oh, do you?” You ease off your stool to stand in front of him, his legs automatically widening for you to step in between them.

“Wanna come help me pick out a tree this weekend?” he asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your jeans to tug you in even closer. “I hear you know a thing or two about picking out the best one,” his eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles broadly at you.

You don’t bother fighting back the grin that takes over your face. “Stick with me, kid,” you say taking his sunglasses from where they rest against his chest and sliding them on, “I won’t lead you astray.” 

Bradley had the best afternoon learning the ins and outs of selecting the perfect tree at the tree lot with you. 

He had found a tree place with a festive name that was about 30 minutes away, it was probably a bit different than what you were used to, but he hoped you’d be happy with the options there. He had even called in advance to make sure they had the specific variety your parents usually got after texting with your dad to find out what he should be looking for.

He had wanted to pick you up from your apartment, but you had insisted on meeting him at his place since you had an early work meeting scheduled in the morning. And had greeted you with a coffee in hand from your favorite shop when you arrived.

He’d even worn the plaid flannel shirt you had bought for him when you were visiting home for the occasion. When he parked the Bronco in the lot, you had giddily exclaimed, “Bradley, look at all the trees! There’s way more than I thought there’d be. It smells like home!” 

Once you were both out of the car you had grabbed his hand threading your fingers between his, and set off like a woman on a mission. He’d felt rather pleased with himself. 

The outdoor speakers were playing the local Christmas radio station and there were rows and rows of trees under a few large white topped tents. He loved how seriously you were taking this, and if he wasn’t already totally enamored with you this would have sealed the deal.

You’d taught him how to determine its freshness, “You have to pull a needle off and see if it bends or snaps. If it snaps then it’s already way too dried out and you’re just purchasing a giant match stick.” 

From there the came the scent test, “Now sniff the tree, you have to get your face in there. The stronger the tree scent the longer it will last.” 

And finally, the aesthetics. 

“I like mine a little girthy and on the fuller side, but that’s all a matter of personal preference. You want some gaps, so that the heavier ornaments can hang better, but not too many. And the top has to be straight, no one wants a lopsided tree topper.”

“That’s not the only thing you like full and girthy,” he couldn’t help but let slip out.

“Bradley, there are children here!” you admonished while looking around wide eyed, but that didn’t stop you from grazing the front of his jeans every chance you got.

So, when he managed to find what you excitedly deemed to be the “absolute most perfect tree!”, he couldn’t help but preen his face feeling a bit warm from the attention and praise you showered him with.

He’d hauled the tree up to the check out where it was bundled while he paid, and then carried it over his shoulder out to the Bronco. You’d trailed behind him carrying the wreath you’d picked out humming along with the music.

“Is there such a thing as a competence kink? Because this,” you had mused gesturing to him tying the tree down in the back, his hands tingling, “is definitely doing it for me.” He had just grinned and shaken his head at you, his face heating up a bit. However, he couldn’t help but flex a bit more for your benefit as he finished up.

And when you made him pull off the road less than 10 minutes later, to indulge in that new self-discovery with your mouth around his cock, well that was very much for his benefit.

Now you’re with him at his place.  You guys had wrangled the perfect tree into the house and had gotten it set up in front of his windows in the living room near the upright piano he had tucked in the corner. He loved the smell that was filling the room and the way you’d lit up once it was in place. If he had his way, you’d be around all the time.

Bradley could hear you singing along to the Christmas album he had picked up that was playing on his Dad’s old record player as you worked on putting together some hot toddies in the kitchen. You had put him on light duty, and he was determined to make it the best-looking thing you’ve ever seen.

He worked going round and round the Christmas tree, the lights all shining merrily. He took his time making sure to wrap and tuck the lights around the branches, the cozy glow filling his chest with warmth.

But the longer he worked the more he was starting to get worried that he was coming down with a bug or something, his face starting to feel slightly feverish. His throat getting thick and uncomfortable.

He’d noticed it earlier at the tree lot, but didn’t want to give it too much thought. The Navy had ruined his Thanksgiving plans with you and he didn’t want to let you down again. He worked to string lights on a few more branches adamant to push through for you. 

“Sweetheart,” he reluctantly called out to you, “I think I might be coming down with something. I’m not feeling too hot, and my throat is kinda scratchy.” The guilt was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach, maybe if he rested now he could keep it from getting too bad.

He turns to see you coming out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs in your hand, your eyes going wide.

He turns back to the tree looking to see if he accidentally fucked something up. It was his first time with a real tree, maybe the lights needed to be strung differently.

“Bradley. Oh my god.”

You had just put the finishing touches on the hot toddies and were already walking out of the kitchen when Bradley had called out to you. Those beverages were quickly abandoned on his coffee table as you propelled yourself towards him.

His face was brightly flushed and his eyes were shade of red that made your own itch in sympathy. You reach up to tug at the collar of the flannel he was wearing to get a better look at the skin of his neck and chest. The scars on his neck were standing out in contrast to his reddened skin.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Even his voice was sounding a bit scratchy. You ignore him in favor for undoing the buttons at the cuff and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to not let yourself get too anxious. “You tryin’ to get me to put these lights up topless like some kind of sexy Santa?”

You shush him as you finally get the sleeve rolled up when your suspicions are confirmed, his thick forearm is absolutely covered in angry looking raised red welts. 

“Oh no. Roos, baby. You’re breaking out.” Already pulling him away from the 7-foot issue occupying the living room and heading towards the kitchen, “I think you have pine tree allergy.” 

He finally looks away from your face and down to his arm, a deep furrow settling over his features, “Oh fuck.” You get him seated at his oval oak dining table grabbing your phone to figure out what to do next.

“Yeah, ‘Oh fuck’,” you repeat back to him eyes skimming the information on the page you clicked into.  You’ve always been the type to take charge in a crisis, this would be no different. You’d make sure he’s taken care of the way he needs to be. The way he deserves to be.

“How’s your breathing feel? Is your throat feeling tight or like it’s closing up?” you ask looking up at him.

His red-rimmed honey eyes seem to shift focus like he’s lost in thought for a brief moment.

“Rooster.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, baby,” he says a bit bashfully. “I’m used to being the one levelheaded in stressful situations, but you should see the intensity on your face. I think you coulda been a pilot.”

“Bradley, I’m flattered. Truly,” you’ve learned that he isn’t the type to say things he doesn’t mean and you respect the hell out of what he does. “Although I’m sure there are a few more qualifications I’d have to pass than that,” you reply lightly, petting the back of his hand resting on the table. “But I need you stick with me here. I just need to figure out if we need to get you to the ER or not.”

He nods. “It’s a little thick, but not like it’s going to close up. And really scratchy, ‘s all.”

“Ok, that’s good. That’s good,” you repeat again more to yourself than him. 

You love this man so much, and he deserves the world. This is the last thing you would have wanted for him and his very first, and last, real tree.

You can still hear the record playing in the background as you try not to gnaw on the inside of your cheek working to put your game plan together.

After firing off a quick text to Jake, you quickly pop upstairs to Bradley’s medicine cupboard, hoping that he has some antihistamines tucked away in there. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see the pink box, grabbing it you tear off a couple squares from the silver lined sheet to bring back to him.

He’s still sitting where you left him at the dining table. He’s slumped down in the chair his mouth pulled down at the corners, and you think it’s probably because he’s not feeling the greatest right now. You hand him the meds and a fetch him a glass of water, watching as the tendons of his throat flex as they work to swallow the pills down. The red welts have finally made an appearance there too, and are an angry contrast to his usually golden skin.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, hmm?” You bend down to catch his eyes with your and holding out our hands to him. He nods once taking your smaller hands in his as he lets you pull him up. 

You help him to unbutton and remove the flannel shirt trying to avoid further contact with the hives on his body, not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort. Once his wide chest and arms are uncovered, you work his jeans down his thick thighs leaving him in his tight black boxer briefs. There’s nothing more than you love than being up close with Rooster’s body, but right now you’re on a mission and can’t be distracted by all the skin before you.

While you’re still feeling concerned for him, you can feel your anxiety starting to settle a bit from where it was at earlier. You’ve got a plan, you’ve already checked off a few things, and you’ll be able to take a breath once Bradley is taken care of.

He’s ruining everything with you. First Thanksgiving and now Christmas. 

How the fuck did he not know he was allergic to pine trees? He’s 35, he should known those kinds of things by now. Shouldn’t he?

He is frustrated as fuck laying on top of the king-sized bed in his darkened bedroom, the stinging of the hives on his arms and upper body were driving him crazy. God, his eyes itched and burned. Although, he couldn’t tell if it as from the reaction to the tree or from fighting the sudden urge to cry for the first time in a very long time.

The afternoon was not going as he had envisioned it. He wanted to sing some carols loudly while getting tipsy off hot toddies with you. Dance with you in between hanging ornaments on the tree. Maybe fuck you under the tree if he played his cards right, he wanted to be the one to get your tinsel in a tangle. 

All he had wanted was to make you happy. You weren’t spending Christmas with your family, and he didn’t want you to miss out on anything being in California with him instead. He was really excited about the holiday for the first time in what felt like forever, and it had everything to do with you.

“Do you have any oatmeal here?” You had asked him not too long ago, and it was all he could do to point you in the right direction as the guilt was eating away at him. Once you had found it, you had sent him away to go upstairs to get him further away from the tree. His strong, capable, and pretty girlfriend was left to deal with the mess downstairs without him. 

He could hear the whir of the blender and wondered what you were up to. Sulking at the fact that all he could do is wait for the antihistamines to kick in, and hope that he’d be feeling better soon so that he could help you take care of things.

“Bradley? Baby, are you awake?” You entered the dimly lit room cautiously, approaching him gingerly on the bed and holding a large bowl with something fluffy and powdery looking in it. He hadn’t heard you come up the stairs.

He loved the sound of your voice. He loved it in the morning when it was thick with sleep, how excited you got when you were talking about something you were passionate about, and he especially loved the breathy whispers and words of encouragement from you in his ear late at night when he was moving so deep within you. What he didn’t love was being the reason you were so anxious, that he was at fault for why your tone was so laced with concerned. 

“Yeah,” although he was starting to feel sluggish, “’m still awake.” He felt your cool hands on his face and leaned into your soothing touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I’m going to make you an oatmeal bath,” you informed him gesturing to the bowl in your hand. “From what I’ve been reading online that should help calm down the hives, hopefully stop them from spreading anymore.’

“Okay, Sweetheart,” he sighed. He can hear how pitiful he sounds, but right now his girl is the only thing that is making him feel good, and he will do anything you ask of him.

You set about turning the taps on for the large tub in the bathroom, twisting the handles to get the water to come out at the right temperature. Once you were satisfied, you swirled in the oat powder you had made watching as the water turned cloudy, then headed back into the bedroom to get Bradley.

“Let’s get you in the tub so you can soak for a bit, yeah?” He looks so miserable alone stretched out on the bed. “It’s not too hot, and it should help you feel better,” you help him to sit up placing a kiss to the lines of the scars on his cheek trying to comfort him.

Ever the soldier, he dutifully follows you into the bathroom. Once he is stripped of his briefs and comfortably situated in the milky mixture, his eyes flutter closed as he reclines back, leaning his head against the ledge of the tub. You move kneel on the floor next to him running your fingers through his sun-streaked waves.

Your little pocket of peace is disturbed a few minutes later by the ding of your phone.

“Jake just got here,” you announce filling him in on the next part of your plan, “He’s going to help me with the tree.” 

“’posed to be my job,” Bradley sulks making a petulant sound in his throat. You can’t help but let out a gentle tsk while fighting back a small smile at his response.  

“I just want you to relax here and let the oatmeal do its thing. I’m going to get things wrapped up downstairs it shouldn’t take too long, and then I’ll come back to check on you.”

“Mmhm, fine,” he sighs as you press a kiss to his forehead.

You let Jake in and he is quick to jump in taking over by unwinding the lights off from the partially lit tree. He’s even quicker to haul the massive thing out of the house and into the back of his truck, as the new owner of the 7-foot Noble Fir. After the tree is deposited, he heads back in and helps you coil the lights back up so they’re not in a tangled mess on the floor making some light small talk because he can tell your mind is elsewhere. 

On his way out the door he shoots you a cocky salute, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face.  “You can thank my new Trot PR for how quickly I was able to run back to my place after I got your SOS text to get here as quickly as I did, Darlin’,” he drawls. 

You flip him off, but tell him to text you what meals he’d like you to make and bring over later in the week as thanks for his help. And with a quick kiss to his cheek, you shoo him out the door wanting to get back to your boyfriend.

After he leaves, you break out the vacuum and work on getting the needles off the ground before moving on to the laundry. You grab the pile of Bradley’s clothes from the floor in the kitchen where you had left them before stripping down to your underwear, throwing everything in the washer and turning it on to get rid of any potential lingering irritants.

You make you way back upstairs, stopping to slip on one of Bradley’s old UVA t-shirts and grabbing him a loose pair of navy sweatpants, before going in to check on him. He is still there soaking his head tilted back and eyes closed, just as you had left him. Thankfully the hives have seemed to stop their spread leaving his face untouched. His neck, chest, and arms still bearing the brunt of his allergic reaction.

You gently knock on the door to announce your presence, not wanting to startle him. “You ready to come out now, baby?” Before him you had never been a pet name person, but now all you wanted to be a source of comfort in his life. A soft place for him to land.

“Yeah,” he turns his head towards the sound of your voice, “I think I might be getting a bit prune-y, but that felt really good. Thank you, Sweetheart.” He has finally opened his eyes and looking right at you, with a smile small and soft, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You’re trying not to read into it too much, not wanting to let your anxiety get the best of you. You help him up from bath and use the handheld to first shower him off, grabbing a fluffy towel to help gingerly pat him dry. As he bends to pull on the sweatpants you had brought in you turn to rinse out the remaining oatmeal residue from the tub. He presses a kiss to the back of your head as he passes by you to make his way back to the bedroom.

By the time you’re done he has already climbed into bed, the comforter on your side already pulled back as he reaches out for you to get in with him. The white percale sheets you had helped him pick out were cool and luxuriously soft to the touch, and you feel yourself release the breath it felt like you’d been holding since you entered the living room holding those long forgotten hot toddies.

Bradley is quick to lace your fingers together and tuck his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his mustache ticking the soft skin of your throat there. For all of his golden retriever energy, he is soaking up your affection and attention like a lap cat as you slowly rub your free hand up and down his broad back.

However, he’s still entirely too quiet. Your lips press tightly together on their own accord as you begin to think that there’s something more on his mind that he’s not sharing with you than just the effects of the hives and double dose of Benadryl.

You’re about to speak up when he beats you to it, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I just wanted you to feel at home and now I’ve ruined Christmas.” You’ve never heard his voice sound so small.

Oh. Oh no.

“Bradley, please look at me.” 

You lean back a bit as he removes his face from the spot it was tucked into and study his beautiful yet troubled looking eyes. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet? Please tell me you haven’t been spiraling thinking you’ve ruined anything.” He looks away, and you feel your brows scrunch together.

You cup his cheek in your hand, running your thumb down the cleft of his chin, “I love you so much and we’re going to have such a wonderful Christmas together, a tree is a nonissue here, baby. You matter more to me. I hope you know that.” His gaze finally meets yours and you continue on, “I need you to hear me. You’ve got absolutely nothing to apologize for. Nothing is ruined and nothing that happened today is your fault. Ok?” Nodding your head, needing for him to understand and let go of his misplaced guilt. 

You see the exact moment he absorbs and believes everything you’re saying to him, his shoulders releasing the tension that had gathered there. “Ok, I hear you.” You lean into him to place a tender kiss on his lips. “I love you so much,” he breaths against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you say pressing one more lingering kiss to his lips before encouraging him to settle his head back down again. He reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair, prompting you to comb your fingers through his curls. 

“Now that we’ve settled that, how are you feeling? What else can I do to help?” 

“You’ve done so much for me,” he murmurs kissing your neck gently. “’M just tired now and want to hold you for a bit. The Benadryl is starting to kick my ass.” He pauses for a moment, “But maybe we can order some pizza, Sweetheart? And put on one of those Christmas movies you like? Y’know the ones where the people live in a town is named something like Tinselville and their dogs fall in love?” He asks his voice sounding a bit boyish and hopeful. 

You can’t help but let out a giggle because, really, his description is not too far off. You can feel his smile against the side of your neck as you turn the tv on.

“You can have whatever you like, handsome boy. Pizza and Oscar quality Christmas content, it is.” You grab your phone unlocking it and opening up to the delivery app, when Bradley plucks it from your hand tossing it to the side and placing his in yours instead.

“Order from mine instead, it’s my turn to take care of you,” he states slinging his arm low over your hip.

You click the button on the side to wake his phone up only to see your face smiling back at you on his lockscreen. Nose bright from the cold, surrounded by trees, and wrapped up in a scarf your mom had loaned to you since you hadn’t brought any practical winter-wear home with you.

It’s the picture that Bradley has sent himself the other night at the bar, and you’re flooded with a rush of affection for the man nestled against you. You notice his wallpaper is still the picture of you and him from this Halloween when you’d surprised everyone by dressing up as him, he’s kissing you squarely on the mouth while grabbing a handful of your ass. It was one of your favorites too.

You’d just finished submitting the order, when a text from Jake comes through, and you roll your eyes.

Those 5th Gens didn’t get you, but you’re taken out by a fucking a Christmas Tree. Would hate to see what one of those tree shaped car fresheners would do to you.

You’re not going to let him come for your boyfriend, even in playful roasting, when you just managed to picked his spirits up. Not tonight, Hangman. And you set to typing your response with your one free hand, the other still carding through Bradley’s curls. 

Listen up, Lieutenant Turkey Trot. I was planning on surprising you with a bottle of that Texas bourbon you like when I swing by with the food later this week, but now that’s up to you. Do with that what you will... xx

Not bothering to wait for a response you hand Bradley back his phone only to see it light up again. “Lieutenant Turkey Trot,” he snorts, “Damn. Hangman apologized. And he says he wants a lasagna and your chicken and dumpling casserole.”

Southern men are too easy. Nothing is as important to them as food and their mamas. You smile smugly to yourself, making a mental note to go to remember to stop by that speciality liquor store by your place.

The food is delivered not too much later, you and Bradley eat in bed the box sitting between you while making fun of the plot of the movie you had turned on. You can tell the Benadryl is staring to win when Bradley’s running commentary tapers and his breathing begins to even out.

“It’s ok to go to sleep, baby.”

“Just resting my eyes, wanna see if they figure out why the poinsettias aren’t blooming.”  

“You should get your rest,” you gently press, “I’ll set record it and you can find out tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna stay the night, right?” He asks sleepily as he concedes and begins to burrow down into his bed.

“Of course. If you want me here, I’ll stay.” Truth be told, you liked his bed better than yours. You’d even went back to the shop where you’d helped Bradley pick out his sheets from and bought the same percale set for your place in an attempt to help you sleep better.

You set an alarm for earlier than you’d like, remembering you have a meeting first thing in the morning. “I might have to leave a bit earlier than usual though,” you mention softly, “Since I’ll need to go to my place before I have to head in to the office.” You hadn’t originally planned on staying over due to your early morning and now you were kicking yourself for not grabbing a few things to keep in your car just in case.

“Yes. Stay,” he murmurs and reaches out to you, wrapping his arm around your midsection and pulling you to his chest. You let your fingers trace lightly down his forearm, feeling the hills and valleys caused by the welts that litter his arm. He lets out a hum of contentment in response, you’re pressed so close to him you can feel the vibrations of the sound from his chest against your back.

You think you’ve finally lost him to sleep when he mumbles already half gone, “Why don’t you keep more things here?” You can feel his warm breath against the back of your neck.

“How much were you thinking? You saying you want to share a drawer with me?” you lightly tease.

“Bring it all,” he sighs, “Want you here.”

The sound of his soft snores filling your ear only a couple minutes later.

You don’t bring up Bradley’s half-asleep musings, you won’t hold him to anything said under the influence of the antihistamines. While the thoughts of moving in and living with Bradley made your heart beat a bit faster, you kept those hopes tucked away just for yourself.

It was now a week after the pine tree debacle, Bradley’s hives were quick to clear up after a couple days and a few oatmeal baths later. Your skin was still reaping the benefits of the oatmeal too after he managed to coax you in with him one evening. 

He had texted you earlier in the day asking for you to swing by his place after work. You knew the door would be unlocked for you, and you let yourself in.

“That you, Sweetheart?” He called out from nearby, you can hear the sounds of some crooner singing in the background.

“Yeah, it’s me." You set your purse and work tote down before bending to undo your heels at the door. “Hey, I was thinking on my way over here, I bet lots of places still have artificial trees left in stock that we could get. I feel like we need a Christmas redo.” You get one off and begin working on the other, “I was planning on getting one to liven up my place too, maybe I can find one of those ostentatious pink ones I tried to talk my parents into getting and fulfill a lifelong dream.” You say that last part with a little laugh.

You finally win the battle against the top buckle of your cute shoe finally kicking it off and wiggling your toes out, “Ooh! Maybe we can go to that cute cocktail bar off 17th afterwards? One of my coworkers was talking about their new seasonal drinks today and it seems festive.”

You fish your phone out of your purse and make your way to the living room, “That is if you didn’t have anything planned.”

Your voice trails off at the end because when you round the corner you find Bradley in his living room looking very proud with a self-satisfied smile on his face already standing next to a Christmas tree.

A very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas tree.

You stand there entirely stunned. The juxtaposition of your tall, handsome naval aviator next to this truly over the top frosted tree has your brain working overtime. The entire room is cast in a dreamy glow from many strands of white lights he had already spun around it.

“I still feel bad that about what happened the other weekend, and I wanted to make it up to you. At the bar, I heard you telling Phoenix that you always wanted a pink tree, so I hope this is similar to what you hand in mind.” He seems to be getting a bit nervous now, since all it seems you can do is just blink at him. He reaches around into his back pocket pulling out a small tube, “I even got some of those scent stick things to tuck in if you-” 

He doesn’t get to finish since you’ve launch yourself at him.

“Bradley!” He catches you easily with one arm as you begin peppering his face with kisses.

His laugher fills the room and his grin lights up his face at your reaction, “Are you happy, Sweetheart?”  

“I’m the happiest! Oh my god! Are you for real?” you exclaim in between kisses. You stop the assault on his face to take it in your hands, “Seriously though, there is nothing to feel bad about. You’re what matters most to me. I mean, yes, I absolutely love this. But you should have what you like too.”

He takes a step back, with you still in his arms and propped up on his hip. He thoughtfully studies the tree in front of you both. “Yep. This is definitely the perfect tree,” he declares proudly, “It’s full and girthy. Has some good gaps, and look at that top. Straight as an arrow. Although we might need to get some more decorations for it, but I got it started.”

You look from him back to the tree puzzled, since you don’t see anything on it aside from the lights. He walks you both closer, and pulls off what looks to be a strand of curling ribbon with a shiny silver object dangling from it from a branch on the tree. 

A key.

He sets you down back on your own two feet, holding you close against his body bringing his forehead to yours. “I meant it, Sweetheart. Bring it all. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here. All the time. With me. You’re the only thing on my list this year, you’re all I want. Will you let me give you more than a drawer?” His honey brown eyes gazing at you hopefully.

You already knew what your response would be even before he pulled that key from off the tree, and the answer must be all over your face because Bradley’s face breaks into a beam as he picks you up and spins you around.

The choice has always been easy with him, it’ll always be a yes.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Causally hyper-fixating over all things TGM at bradshawburner

You can find the prequel to this story here!

Find out what happens during their second Christmas together here!

You can read more of my stories here!

[mssorceressupreme]

hiii i felt like ive read every single minho fic in existence & ive been dying from the lack of it so im hoping u can write ts 🙏🏼

fem!reader works for wicked and betrays the gladers w teresa (or not doesn’t matter). & instead of teresa talking to minho in that one scene, its reader. reader tries to explain that its for a good cause by being slightly stern n rude about it but breaks down for the first time and softens up when she realizes that it isn't right. reader then tries to make up with it by being a lil freaky…..,, (can be spice or smut idc)

HAHAHAH girl mans was literally in pain during that scene but ur so real 😩🤌🏼 literally tho I feel like the fandom is slowly dying and it hurts 😭😭 anyway, l hope I satisfied your prompt but I do apologise as I got slightly carried away at the end and added more to the plot 😭🫶🏼

——

Change | Minho x Reader

Summary: after betraying the gladers, you come face to face with one of them again. the one who captured your heart a long time ago, and you discover that feelings don’t go astray.

Warnings: spicy content, mild violence, mentions of blood and gunshots

——

You stood in the sterile lab, the cold, fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare in the white walls. The sound of machines humming filled the room, a constant reminder of the work you were doing here.

You paused from working on your lab report, glancing over at Teresa, who was intently focused on a computer screen, analysing data. “Do you regret it, Teresa?” You asked, “Betraying them?”

Teresa didn’t look up from the screen. “No,” she replied firmly, “We’re in the right, Y/N.”

You stared at her blankly, did she really not care about them?

“Don’t think too much about it, this is our job now. We’re here and not with them. They’re out there and it doesn’t matter anymore.” She continued, with a slightly gentler tone.

“Not all of them…” you mumbled.

Teresa looked up from her computer screen, she knew how much he meant to you back in the glade, about your secret infatuation with him. “The tests on Minho are looking good, he’s delivering promising results Y/N. If we continue testing, we’ll be closer to finding a cure.”

You nodded, but felt heavy with doubt. You had always believed in the cause, the need to find a cure and save humanity.

But seeing Minho captured and brought to the facility, subjected to tests and experiments, had stirred something inside you. Was this truly the way?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were crossing the line but you chose to ignore that for the sake of finding the cure.

It was still early in the day and you were due for a check in session with Minho in a few minutes. The first session, and the first time seeing him since he was held captive.

You couldn’t bring yourself to visit him previously, well, not until now, since it was mandatory for you to check in with your subject as a scientist.

“Well I’m off, got a meeting.” You began packing up your items.

“Good luck. See you for a coffee later?” Teresa smiled softly, and you nodded, showing a small smile before leaving the room.

——

In no time, you found yourself sitting in the cold, clinical meeting room, waiting for Minho to be brought in.

You fiddled with a pen, your mind racing. When the door finally opened, and Minho was escorted in, your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked worn, his usual fierce determination dulled by exhaustion and pain.

You sat at opposite ends of the table, the distance between you feeling both emotional and physical.

“Minho,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady.

Minho didn’t respond, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“You have to understand where Teresa and I are coming from…” You continued, “This is for a good cause. We’re trying to save the world.”

Again, he didn’t move a muscle nor did he respond. But you could feel the tension between the two of you, the atmosphere was uneasy. The guilt of bringing him here, away from the other gladers weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You felt your resolve wavering but you forced yourself to remain stern, “You know how much we need to find a cure. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

You sighed and continued. “There’s a girl here, her name is Cheyenne. You can help her Minho, we’re so close to finding a cure. You can help hundreds of infected people, think about it. It just takes a bit of sacrifice…”

Minho’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them. “By torturing and experimenting on people? How can you justify that.”

“There is no other way.” You sneered, “We’re doing the best we can.”

“Your best looks a lot like your worst.” He spat, clenching his fists through his handcuffs.

“At least we’re doing something about it! Unlike some people!” You slammed your pen on the table, frustrated with the amount of confusion running through your head.

Your head was thinking differently than your heart. You had certain thoughts, but out came opposing ones.

“You’re no better than WCKD,” He was spiteful, “You’re just like them.”

Your gaze softened, you shook your head slightly.

“The Y/N I know wouldn’t have done this.” He added, scoffing.

The weight of his accusation hit hard. You had always prided yourself on being different, empathetic, wanting to help people. But now, you felt the full force of your actions crashing down in you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I just wanted to help…I thought I was doing the right thing, but now, I don’t know anymore.” There had to be another way to cure humanity, this was straight up torture.

Minho’s expression softened slightly, seeing you break down for the first time. “If you really want to help, you need to stop this.”

You took a deep breath, the decision forming in your mind. You stood up and walked around the table, closing the distance between you. “I never wanted to hurt you, Minho.” You confessed, “I’ve always…loved you.”

He scanned your face, eyes darting from your eyes to lips, as you leaned in. Your lips brushing against his, before forcefully attaching.

Little did you know, that Minho too, shared your feelings. You had always admired him, his leadership, fearlessness, and the way he cared for other gladers, especially you.

Those moments where he paid extra close attention to you, wasn’t just because he cared for you like everyone else, but because he had feelings for you. You were always his first priority.

“Shuck, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long.” Minho mumbled into the kiss, as he pulled you onto his lap despite having his hands cuffed.

“Please forgive me Minho, I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I want to stop this, stop WCKD and find the others.” You were straddling him, and pulled away from the kiss.

His response was leaning in for another kiss. The kiss was filled with desperation and regret, a silent plea for forgiveness.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair lightly, while he pulled you closer to him, fully closing the gap between you.

He bit your lip slightly, you left out a soft moan in response. Your lips moved in sync, they became sloppy, desperate and hungry kisses. You craved more, you missed him badly, and this proximity was exactly what the both of you needed.

The fact that his was growing harder beneath you, and how wet you already were, made it evident that the both of you were touch deprived, and all your feelings had burst out in this session.

“Minho…” you moaned, as he began kissing your neck, finding your sweet spot and sucking on it until he left a mark.

“Looks like we’re both tagged now.” He smirked, his eyes still tired and weak, but a tinge of something else was shown, forgiveness.

You now couldn’t imagine how much the betrayal must’ve hurt him especially. But the past is in the past, you wanted to move forward and truly make up for your heinous actions.

You planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’m never going to let you get hurt, ever again.” You looked down at his handcuffs, and grazed your thumb above them, “I don’t have the keys to this on me…they should be in the lab somewhere.”

You got off his lap, “As much as I’d like to continue, we need to get you out of here,” determination hardening your voice, “I’m going to help you escape.”

Minho looked at her, taken aback by your sudden change of heart, “Why would you do that? Never-mind me…what will WCKD do to you if they find out?”

“I don’t care about WCKD anymore. I realise now that I can’t justify what we’ve done,” You replied, “And I’m not letting them hurt you again, I care about you Minho.”

He nodded firmly, “What can I do to help?”

——

You grabbed the handcuff keys from your lab, un-cuffing Minho swiftly. He shook his wrists and cupped your cheeks, giving you a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you.”

As you made your way through the compound, you led the way. Using your clearance to bypass security systems and unlock doors.

It was all havoc. Alarms sounding, people rushing to flee something, gunshots erupting. There had been a sudden attack on WCKD and the Last City, and you mentally thanked yourself for switching to the right side on time.

When you encountered guards, you fought together, defending Minho. Your movements synchronised and steady.

You grabbed a fallen guard’s weapon, tossing another to Minho. You defended each other fiercely, a silent understanding between you. The both of you weren’t just fighting for survival, you were fighting for each other.

As Minho rounded a corner, he bumped into Thomas and Newt, who were searching for him in the compound.

Minho reunited with the two of them, the three of them sharing a relieving hug. “Minho!” Thomas beamed.

You followed soon behind, seeing Minho embraced in a hug.

Thomas saw you and raised his weapon instinctively, and in the chaos, a shot rang out. Pain seared through your leg, and you crumpled to the ground.

“Y/N!” Minho shouted, dropping to his knees beside you. He turned to Thomas, “She’s with us again! She helped me escape.”

Thomas lowered his weapon, guilt washing over his face. “Sorry Y/N,” he stammered, his eyes regretful, “I didn’t know…it’s good, good to have you back with us.” He affirmed.

Minho carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you into his chest. “We’ve got to get out of here. She’s hurt.”

They moved quickly, Minho carrying you bridal style as you navigated through the compound. You clung to him, breaths shallowed and pained. The warmth of his body was comforting and reassuring against you.

“Hang on,” he whispered, “We’re almost there.”

When the four of you finally burst out the building, the cool night air hit you like a wave. You stumbled into the open, the dark sky stretching above you lot.

“You did it,” you murmured, a weak smile tugging at your lips, you had lost a lot of blood in your leg. “We did it.”

Minho held you tighter, his face close to yours. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, “We’re going to be okay.”

Thomas and Newt followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. They had all made it out, but your injury weighed heavily on them.

“We need to get her to safety,” Thomas said, his voice urgent, “I’ll get Brenda and the others to come to us.”

Minho nodded, his grip on you unwavering. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He promised.

As you moved away from the compound, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty of your future, you knew you were where you needed to be—by Minho’s side, fighting for a better tomorrow. Together, you would face whatever came next, your hearts united in your quests for freedom and redemption.

[saturnville]

40 days n 40 nights.

pairing; shuri udaku x black!fem!reader (kalila)

warning; toxicity. language. emotional manipulation. allusions to smut. descriptions of smut 18+ content.

reference; 40 days n 40 nights — mariah the scientist, vory

overview; in which two exes reunite briefly after ending their toxic relationship.

tags (people who recently interacted with my shuri fics): @neeville @pocketsizedpanther @l-o-v-e-galore @cosmic-parker

Toxicity used to be as foreign concept. At one point, healthy was all she knew. Open, honest, respectful communication and treatment from her partner to herself. It was easily acceptable. It was what she needed to thrive; it was what she required.

Kalila felt like a fool when she lowered the walls that guarded her soft heart. The sweet nothings and gentle kisses that the lips of the Queen shared, altered her brain chemistry in a way she couldn’t explain.

No longer was she headstrong and adamant about what she deserved. She didn’t stand on business. No, she was weak in the knees for the Queen, the Panther, for her. Whatever to keep her majesty satisfied, she was prepared to give it all.

Naivety was her downfall.

What she failed to understand, was that the deep desire to please her at any cause, stripped her of her dignity, honor, and self-respect. Subject to mistreatment as a result, Kalila’s eyes began to open. The rose-colored glasses fell and reality sunk in. Her loyalty was taken advantage of. Her kindness was laughed at. The love she gave was not enough. She was not enough. She came to be nothing but a body to keep the bed warm while the Queen did what a Queen had the pleasure of doing; whatever she wanted.

It took months to build the courage to end the relationship. How easy could it be to remove oneself from the most intense union they’d found themselves in? The one where while the pros were numerous, the cons extended themselves past the acceptable limit.

The worst part was; she didn’t care. She had no interest in fighting to keep her, working to change. Kalila’s world crumbled. Her heart tore in two, her lungs constricted, and her mind fogged. Suddenly, substances were her lover and they fucked her good; to the point where she’d be in an orgasmic haze from the strategic stroking of her brain.

She mentally smacked herself each time she thought or her. The Queen, the Panther, Shuri. The best and worst thing to ever happen to her. Kalila wondered what she was up to. Probably living her life; on a flight to a new country where she’d serenade a woman into being her lover for the night before retreating the following morning, intrigued when the women followed her like a lost child. Kalila knew it all too well—it was once her.

The room spun. Substances and lack of sleep were a deadly combination. Kalila shook her head. 40 days and 40 nights of endless bullshit. All she had to do was let go. Could it be so hard?

Her music paused briefly at the indication of a text.

S. Udaku. Open the door.

Apparently so.

Kalila’s knees were weak as she stood in front of her. Her knees were weak, her heart pounding, and her most intimate parts jolted at the sight of her. She looked much different than she had a year ago. Her curls were much shorter—she’d cut them—now small tendrils on her head. She retired her tracksuit for a black suit with accompanying loafers. Kalila glanced at the wall clock. It was 9:41pm. Where’d she come from?

Shuri stepped into the apartment with an indescribable dominance that shifted the atmosphere. She was taller in stature, so her neck was lowered to glare into the eyes of Kalila. Both sets of brown eyes were deep and rich, but told different stories.

“What are you doing here?” Kalila’s voice was slow. The door closed behind her and and Kalila’s eyes followed Shuri as she stood in the middle of her apartment. Her long arms were crossed just underneath her belt, and her rings shone under the dim lights.

“Why’d you let me in?” Was the Queen’s response.

Because I missed you. Kalila’s eyes told it all before her mouth did. Shuri gave a humored chuckle, but the stoic look on her face didn’t change. Tight-lipped and unamused.

“Why are you here?” Kalila pressed once more. Shuri was now on the couch. Her long fingers flipped through the magazine on the coffee table. Essence. Then, they ghosted over the lit candle aside it. She didn’t flinch when the flame kissed her fingertips. Slowly, she leaned back against the couch, arm thrown over the back.

Shuri shrugged. “Was in the area. Wanted to say hello. Sit.” As if she was trained, Kalila sat beside her. This was what she wanted; to be next to her, in her presence once again. Why act shy now?

“I see you’re doing well. Business flourishing and all.”Kalila’s eyes snapped up. She started a marketing and consulting agency shortly after her college graduation. It was a rocky start, and Shuri had been there to connect her to the best in the business to assist in its development. Little did Kalila know, her efforts never ceased even once they split.

Kalila, however, was confused as to how she knew the way she was flourishing. At least on the outside. Then she had to remember, Shuri had every resource at her fingertips. Hell, she probably had someone keeping tabs on her at one point. She chose not to think about it further.

“Yeah, things are well.” Her answer was short. “Can you just…why are you here, Udaku? We are--there is no us anymore. You made it clear what you wanted five months ago, and it wasn't me. So, why are you here?" Her voice shook as she spoke, but she spoke with intention.

Shuri's chin raised and her eyebrow quipped. "I had a revelation. You didn't deserve what I put you through, and I'm aware of that. So, simply here to take accountability. That's it."

It was Kalila's turn to raise her eyebrow. It seemed too good to be true. Shuri sighed deeply and turned to face Kalila, whose distrust was written on her face.

"Do you trust me?" Shuri asked. Kalila's response was delayed. Did she? To protect her life, sure. But to protect and honor her emotions, her mental wellbeing, her heart? No, no she didn't.

"In some ways, yes. In others, no. And that's not my fault. It's yours/"

Ouch. Shuri nodded once. "Okay. Let me make it up to you." Those words were dangerous. They were the entryway back into the world of Shuri Udaku, and she wondered if she'd be able to take it.

Kalila spent time contemplating, and it did not go unseen by Shuri. So, the Queen asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

"How I don't want to be hurt by you again."

"I love you too much to hurt you again."

"That's what you said last time."

Silence.

"Let me prove it to you, yeah?" Her slender fingers danced across the roundness of Kalila's face. Fingertips grazed her lips until they fell down her neck. She gave it a soft squeeze. Kalila's eyes fluttered and she leaned into Shrui's body. Shuri took it as an opportunity to graze her lips over Kalila's, whose fell slack and a quiet whimper fell from them. Exactly where she wanted her.

Soon, clothes decorated the floor and their songs of pleasure were on repeat. High and low shifts in pitch and octave. Whistle register with voice cracks when it became too much. Sweaty bodies slipped and slid against one another. A glorious event.

"I love you," the Queen whispered breathlessly in Kalila's ear as she brought her to the edge. "I love you, I love you...it's just us. Always."

If only she stayed true to her word. Kalila woke up by herself. Every remainder of Shuri was eradicated. The only trace of her was the scent of her perfume; strong and dominant, just like her.

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table.

S. Udaku. I'll see you soon.

She knew what that meant. She'd return when she felt like it. That could be days or weeks. Kalila's eyes welled with tears. Another 40 days and 40 nights were wasted, just to start the process all over again.

[goodlucktai]

the way things change

tmnt 2007 word count: 2k post-movie / canon compliant b team & leo-centric

this was my main piece for the @turtlestogetherzine ! it was such a fun project that so many talented people came together on and if you haven’t already you should definitely check out everyone else’s AMAZING contributions !

title borrowed from rivers and roads by the head and the heart

read on ao3

x

Donnie and Mikey have always been something of a matching set. 

During their early years, they went everywhere together. Even when Mikey was at his most irritating and Donnie seemed two seconds away from disposing of him in brutal fashion—even though the two of them could be like night and day at the best of times—they were always on each other’s team first. 

Raph used to call them ‘the twins’ because they were both his younger brothers and they were both, in his own words, tag-teaming little twerps. The twin moniker caught on and even Splinter would use it occasionally. In the back of his mind, Leo still does.

Three weeks after the dust had settled over the remains of Winter Corp, he found himself thinking, Guess some things never change. 

“Donnie, a tablet at the breakfast table?” Leo asks dryly. “Really?” 

Blatant disregard like this for one of sensei’s longest-standing rules was usually much more Raph’s speed. 

Don pauses mid-scroll and thinks for a moment. 

“Mikey, what day is it?” he says eventually.

“It’s the eleventh, dude, you’re good,” is Mikey’s distracted reply. 

He’s making a game out of pouring as much cereal into his bowl as it will physically hold, which has amounted to a sizable mound of off-brand Lucky Charms. Leo is reluctantly curious to see what he’s going to do when he remembers he still needs to add milk. 

Donnie, for his part, immediately goes back to ignoring the rest of them as a whole. 

Raph puts his spoon down. “Explain what just happened.”

“It’s a prime number day,” Mikey says blithely, without looking up from the careful, exacting process of shaking another couple of marshmallow pieces out of the box. “Prime means primo screen-time.” 

Splinter is sipping his tea without refuting Mikey’s explanation, so that must be a thing now. Leo blinks, processing this. He can’t help remembering how it was before he went away, the strict ‘no electronics at the table’ policy, because mealtimes were family times. 

Raph directs his confusion down a different route. “Mike knows what prime numbers are? Since when?”

Donnie looks up from his tablet to angle a narrow look Raph’s way. His warm brown eyes are markedly cooler than before. He clearly didn’t appreciate the joke. 

He’s never been one to pick fights with his siblings. The Donatello Leo knows is a gentle soul, every bit as deadly as the rest of his family, but more inclined to mediate disputes than start one himself. 

So the last thing Leonardo expects is for him to take a page out of Raph’s book at eight in the morning. 

When Mikey starts tapping and humming, Leo can't help smiling a little. It’s a sound he missed in the jungle. 

“God, I can’t even hear myself think around here,” Raph grumbles. 

To Leo’s ears, it’s not unkind. Teasing, but good-natured. Leo knows what Raphael sounds like when he’s ticked off beyond all reason—when he’s angling for a fight and determined to get one, when he’ll say anything to get Leo to punch back—and this is very much not that. 

But something darts through Mikey’s expression that makes the big brother half of Leo’s brain sit up and pay attention. Donnie notices, too. 

“He has ADHD, asshole,” he snaps. “If it bothers you that much, put on some headphones or go away.”

The atmosphere changes on a dime. Splinter’s ears go up, whiskers slicked back. Raph looks as surprised as Leo feels.

“Donnie!” Leo says, more stunned than scolding. 

Donnie puts his tablet down, not quite hard enough to constitute a slam. “Are we really going to pretend that Mikey’s stimming is more annoying than listening to Raph when he’s in one of his moods?”

“Er, no.” Leo briefly looks to Splinter for guidance before he catches himself. “I mean—it’s just the way you said it.”

“The way I said it?” Donnie demands. 

“Dee, knock it off,” Mikey interjects unhappily. “You know I hate it when you guys put me in the middle.”

It pulls Donatello up short. He visibly grits his teeth, then bites out, “Can I be excused?” 

Splinter knows when to pick his battles. It’s a lesson all of his sons could stand to learn. 

“Take your plate, please,” the rat says. 

To Donnie’s credit, he doesn’t storm down the tunnel to the lab, even though it looks like he’d like to. The reinforced door shuts behind him with a decisive clang that rings through the lair. 

Leo feels wrong-footed by the entire exchange. Somehow, in the last three minutes, a comfortable family breakfast went entirely off the rails. 

Mikey isn’t humming anymore. The kitchen feels quieter than it should. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean—” Raph starts uncertainly. 

“Don’t be dumb, I know that,” Mikey says, not looking at anyone. He tips his dry cereal back into the box and then picks at his toast until he’s moved enough of it around that his plate appears halfway finished and he’s allowed to leave the table. 

He does so at a run, booking it to the lab. The door opens right up for him. It was locked the last time Leo tried it. 

And it’s locked the next time he tries it, too, half an hour later. 

“It’s me,” Leo calls, feeling a little foolish standing out in the hall. “Can I come in?”

Donnie’s voice answers immediately. “List the first ten prime numbers and I’ll think about it.”

Okay, this is Donnie with a grudge. Leo remembers enough of what that looks like to tread carefully. 

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Is Mikey okay?”

The door unlocks and Donnie rolls it open. He gives Leo an inscrutable look before he stands back to let him in. 

Mikey is parked in a huge bean bag chair in the corner, headphones on, drawing tablet propped against his knees. His ninja senses must have pinged when Leo walked in; he glances up right on cue and offers a hang-loose sign. Leo mirrors it, entirely because he knows it’ll make Mikey snicker. 

“He’s fine,” Donnie says unnecessarily, sitting down at his desk. “We look out for each other.” 

If that’s a jab, it’s a well-aimed one. 

“Yeah, I see that,” Leo says. “Look, I’m sorry if it sounded like I took Raph’s side back there. But you know that Raph doesn’t think Mikey’s stupid. He would be the first to break somebody’s jaw for implying that.”

“So that makes it okay to say whatever he wants to a neurodivergent teenager?” Don presses, eyes flashing. “But when I say something to Raph—”

Leo can feel himself losing his patience. “Donnie, come on. All I meant was that you shouldn’t pick fights when you know better.”

As soon as he says it he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Donnie spins his chair around to face the computer monitors, neatly severing his half of the conversation.

“Close the door behind you when you leave,” he says in a clipped tone. 

Across the room, Mikey is watching them with round eyes. He’s a few seconds from tossing his art aside and getting up to diffuse the fight. As much as he hates when his brothers put him in the middle, he has no problem putting himself there. 

It almost seems like Mikey isn’t sure if it’s safe to leave Donnie alone with this strange newcomer who looks a lot like the big brother who left them all behind. 

Leo breathes through the sharp pain that brings him and thinks, Fix this. 

He draws another chair over and sits down. Donnie’s shoulders go stiff but he doesn’t react otherwise. 

“Sorry,” Leo says quietly. 

It takes a minute but eventually Donnie nods, brown eyes full and troubled. 

“Me too,” he replies. “I know I’m being difficult. I’m just—I feel so angry all the time.”

Donnie isn’t Raph. He never had any problem with Leo’s authority. He had his own parts to play on the team, parts he took pride in—doctor, scientist, engineer. He was relieved to hand back that mantle of leadership, to step back into his curated role, but that doesn’t mean everything just returns to the way it was.

Donatello still resents his big brothers for abandoning him, each in their own way. He’s still bitter about all the extra weight he had to carry, without thanks or credit. He’s been stuck in place for the last two years, no outlet, no time for himself, and nobody on his team but Mikey, the one person Donnie has always been directly responsible for and could never bring himself to burden. He picked up an I.T. job he hated and stuck with it for longer than he should have, because he wouldn’t know how to quit something halfway if his life depended on it. His typically strong relationship with Raph—one that Leo’s secretly envied since they were kids—soured and left him without their hothead’s support. He had to figure out how to be a grown-up at the tender age of sixteen. 

Then Leo came back, expecting everything to be exactly how he left it. 

Of course Donnie’s angry. It’s no wonder he’s picking fights left and right. 

“You’re not being difficult, Don,” Leo says immediately, wishing, not for the first time, that Splinter had never sent him away. “If you want to scream and throw things at me, I think that would probably be more than fair.”

“I don’t want to do any of that,” Donnie replies wryly. He swivels his chair slightly, facing Leo again. There’s something grudgingly hopeful about him now—Leo’s little brother, trying to remember how to put his faith in Leo’s hands. 

It’s such a precious thing to hold. Leo can’t screw this up again. 

“You’ve worked out a pretty solid system while I was gone,” he says, bumping Donnie’s shoulder with his fist. “Can you show me the ropes?”

Give Donnie a chance to teach and he shines. Sure enough, he brightens a little. 

“We help April with acquisitions for her antique store on Thursdays. Do you want to come?” 

Leo heard about that from April. Apparently it’s more of a game than a chore, a city-wide scavenger hunt. He was hoping for an invitation but he wasn’t expecting one. He feels himself smile. 

Mikey, who has clearly been listening in, lowers his headphones and asks, “All four of us?”

That brings Donnie up short. Leo jumps in. 

“I told Raph I wanted us to do a team-building exercise sometime soon, and he said he’d be down for anything, as long as you two promised to go easy on him.” 

That’s exactly what he said, too—only he’d added, gruffly affectionate, ‘those tag-teaming little twerps.’ 

“Sound good?” Leo asks them warmly. 

Mikey beams. Donnie’s disagreeable outer shell begins to soften. By some miracle, Leo still knows how to do this. Two years wasn’t enough to overshadow a lifetime. 

It’s a privilege to sit in the lab, watching Donnie bring up files on his latest project, listening attentively to engineering and mechanics that go clean over his head. Mikey joins them at the desk and shows Leo the digital painting he’s been working on, chattering energetically about watercolor and composition and the new brush he’s obsessed with. 

Raph wanders in some time later with an apology in hand—drinks from the twins’ favorite coffee shop. He probably left right after breakfast to be back already. 

Donnie smiles after the first sip. Raph must have got it exactly right.

Leo lets his tea warm his hands and soaks up their company the way regular turtles bask in sunlight. 

Donnie and Mikey built a house in the empty space their brothers left behind. The door isn’t always open, but Leo and Raph can always knock. Maybe they could even live there together someday, once they remember how to be on each other’s team. 

Until then, Leo is willing to put in the work. It’s what he’s always done. 

He’ll do whatever it takes to get back home. 

[yuki2sksksk]

Saw a YouTube video of someone doing a 'What If Tanjirou meets another Hashira in the first episode' so here are my speculation;

Giyuu: Already in canon, Tanjirou and Nezuko are spared

Shinobu: Same as Giyuu with attacking Nezuko first but becomes immensely curious and bewildered when Nezuko protects Tanjirou. Thinks about Kanae and decides to let her curiosity wins her over. She probably make a deal with Tanjirou like "I'll recommend you a teacher for you to become a slayer in exchange for me to take your sister with me." Probably does experimenting on Nezuko because of her opposite demonic characteristics 💀 (a complicated situation, both sides trying to find the solution for a mutual agreement with Tanjirou refusing to leave Nezuko while Shinobu wants to poke her around with needles and stuff)

Kyojuro: Attacks without hesitation, stating bluntly to Tanjirou why Nezuko should be decapitated (unintentionally harsh) and does a double take when Nezuko protects Tanjirou. He might still stands on his ground but questions the whole situation. I can either see him still trying to slay Nezuko or spare her and takes Tanjirou as his student.

Mitsuri: Despite her soft and cheerful attitude, she shows little mercy when it comes to swinging her blades. She apologies first before diving into an attack. Very shock at seeing how Nezuko protects Tanjirou and starts complicating on what she should do next, to continue her mission or spare the siblings. She might needs to sit down and thinks for a moment. The outcome probably with her sparing them.

Muichiro: So honest with his words, insults Tanjirou at hoping for Nezuko to be good. Attacks but pauses when Nezuko is protecting Tanjirou. Maybe tilts his head and stares, asking Nezuko if she has ulterior motives. The most possible outcome of this situation is him to continue his mission and slays Nezuko, reminding himself that his responsibility as a slayer outweigh everything else.

Uzui: Doesn't filter his words when it comes to explaining to Tanjirou on why the boy is stupid enough to protect his demon sister. His eyes get wide when Nezuko protects Tanjirou and questions swimming around his mind. Either he decides to grasp onto the tiny possiblity that Nezuko can be good, or that he goes ahead to behead her. I see Uzui as a hopeful man clinging on to exciting possiblity of impossible situations, so he might takes Tanjirou as his student but keeps Nezuko lock or isolated away 💀

Gyomei: He thinks the situation is pitiful and hopeless, that Tanjirou is in too much despair to hope his sister still has the humanity in her. Even with blind eyes, Gyomei senses the change of the atmosphere when Nezuko stands over Tanjirou like a protection barrier between him and Tanjirou. He keeps wondering how such thing is possible, how a child like Nezuko decides to risk her life for her human brother that she probably never has memory of. He thinks of the chance that maybe she's being defensive over her food. Either he goes for a killing strike, or to have Tanjirou learning under his guidance while keeping close watch on Nezuko.

Obanai: Very harsh insults, thinks Nezuko has ulterior motive for protecting Tanjirou and beheads her 💀

Sanemi: We all know where this is going 💀 Kill first ask later.

[topgun-imagines]

An angst prompt?! Don’t tempt me with a good time

I would really love to see something with the line:

“i loved you, you used me.”

Calm filled the atmosphere. The first few days after Valentine’s Day were usually slow. After all, most people in relationships blew their flower budget before the 14th. This led to the shop being empty for most of the day. Your regulars still stopped by, men who would bring their partners flowers weekly and widowers bringing flowers to their passed-on loved ones.

These were the ones that gave you hope that love still existed. After the past few weeks, you weren’t so sure.

It was then that the small bell chimed above the door. You shovelled the last spoonful of leftover pasta into your mouth before you rushed out to the front to greet the customer. Distractedly, you fiddled with your apron as you walked around the corner. Oh, how you wished you would have been looking up.

When you lifted your head, there was a large, beaming smile on your face. It was gone within seconds.

Standing in front of you was Jake Seresin, the man who ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped all over it.

Your face hardened into stone in a matter of seconds. The pilot looked like a kicked puppy, but that didn’t stop the vicious words flowing from your mouth before you could stop them.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, damn near spitting on him. “Honestly, Seresin, what the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just walk in here like this after what you’ve done?”

Jake was standing in front of you, mouth gapping like a fish. During your rant, the pilot had no chance to explain himself, not that you would give him one anyway. You finally paused. At this point, steam was nearly pouring from your ears.

When he didn’t say anything, you raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, something that had changed since the break-up. That prompted him to speak. Your name was whispered quietly as he took a step forward.

With a scoff, you retreated behind your desk and began focusing once more on your pile of flower orders. It was then that he began speaking. From across your shop.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” That elicited a harsher scoff from you. Where did this man get the nerve?

“Hangman,” You never called him by his call-sign. That was enough for Jake to know that his chances were less than slim. “You do not get to do this. You do not get to come into my place of business to try and hash out your personal issues.” The only reason you paused was to suck in some air before you continued.

Ever so slowly, you set your pen down and walked around the counter. Once you were close enough, you jabbed your finger into his chest. “I loved you.” Your voice cracked and tears welled in your eyes.

Memories from the past came rushing back. Memories filled with nothing but laughter. Memories surrounding that one, fateful night. The night that you had come home, a week before Valentine’s Day, only for Jake to drop the bomb that he wanted a break. That he was no longer in love with you. As hard of a pill as it was to swallow, you had come to terms with the reality that Jake was never the man you thought he was. You had realized that everything, all the whispered ‘I love you’s’ and promises made meant nothing to him.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop your finger from shaking. Regardless of that, your voice was firm.

Jake wasn’t one for crying. Hell, he hardly ever showed emotion. But as he stood in front of you, watching the consequences of his actions play out, he couldn’t stop the single tear from rolling down his cheek at your next words.

“And you used me.”

Thank you for the request anon! Send in some angst from this list :)

[chroniclesofbts]

Call Me Home Part 6

Idol hybrid BTS x hybrid foreigner reader

Warnings: implied sexual themes, smut, angst, fluff, polyamorous relationship, name calling, night terrors, drug use to cause shifting, auctions

If you’re not 18+ please, do not interact.

As always, my works do not represent BTS in any way, this is purely a work of fiction.

Rushed down the hall and into the den, I am handed a green turtleneck to change into. I can hear Hoseok in the other room talking to the Therapist. My hands are shaking so much that I struggle to take off my current shirt. Jungkook takes the turtleneck out of my hands and gives it to Jimin. He grabs the bottom of the shirt I am wearing and waits for permission to help me. I nod, giving a small yes, before he pulls it off quickly. Jimin instantly puts the turtleneck on me, both of their eyes being respectful and not wandering. Jungkook grabs my hand softly and leads me to the living room where Hoseok is with the laptop. He glances up at me as we enter, smiling softly at my shaking form. He reaches his hand out for me to take, pulling me softly into his side.

"We can stay, if you want, or one of us can. Whatever you need, we are here for." Hoseok speaks to me, his face showing worry.

"Stay, please, I don't want to explain everything all over again. Wanted everyone here, but I guess I will have to explain again anyway." I whisper, feeling Taehyungs emotions weighing me down.

Footsteps coming down the stairs cause me to glance up, seeing the rest of the pack entering, eyes still showing their animals are present. They are dressed and holding Taehyung tightly, who is looking at his feet. He isn't hurt like I expected, just showing freshly bitten mating marks.

"We wouldn't make you go through it more than you needed to, Doe" Yoongi says, letting go of Taehyung and joining my other side.

"Let's begin our first session, now that everyone is present." The woman says through the computer.

"We met in the hospital, I was one of the ones who spoke to you before you left. Do you remember me?" She continues

I nod, feeling a squeeze to my thigh, "I do" I verbalize, earning a small chuff from Yoongi.

"It's good to see you again, how are you feeling?" She begins, asking all of the typical questions to start our session.

The session is going well, mostly a routine check in, until she asks about my home.

"Tell me a little bit about where you are from, where you grew up."

"I don't remember much about my family, I moved when I was young into the ranch." I spoke quietly, feeling the atmosphere changing. Yoongi and Hoseok tensing on either side of me, Taehyung's feeling distracting me as I meet his eyes.

"How old were you?" She pushes, refocusing me.

"8, I think?" I pause, "Maybe 7, the memories all blur together"

"Why did you move so young?" She continues without missing a beat.

"I am rare, small, worth good money" I shrugged, bumping shoulders with Hoseok. "My parents are both deer, so I am a purebreed, and I had the rare trait, it made sense I was the one to leave. We needed the money, my mom was getting older, so I took her place. My siblings had too many mixed genes from the ranch, I wasn't born there, was an accident" I mumbled, leaning into Hoseok's arms.

"And how long did you stay at the ranch"

"Until I was sold permanently" I replied, distantly, feeling my chest start to tighten.

"Tae, switch with me" Hoseok whispered while I was talking. Taehyung moved quick, pulling me into his lap, so softly that I was barely jostled.

"And how old were you then?" She pushed, taking not of the interactions between me and the pack.

"I was at the ranch for 6 years, I fought each client there and they got tired of me. My owner purchased me for cheap, I think, complained how I wasn't even worth what little he gave them for me"

And how long were you with him?"

"Until I ran away, after biting the client and being beaten, i stayed on the streets for a couple of years, trying to remain out of sight."

"And then you entered the program" She concluded

"I did, not really given a choice or much information, just caged and sedated. Shipped off to another country" I confirmed, causing Taehyung to squeeze me tighter and bury his head into my shoulder.

"And your heats?"

"I've never had one, was on medicine, the strong ones so I didn't get pregnant in the ranch or with a client. The took me off a few weeks before I left, hoping it would cause me to accept the clients easier. I just never got it after"

"That could be because your animal was protecting you, or the stress in the situation before you were given suppressants in the program. Would also explain why you were thrown into a false heat" She explained, writing more down.

"How are the nightmares?" She said, causing me to freeze and be thrown back into the memory from last nigh, my breath quickening. I can vaguely feel my name being said, the memory feeling all too real. My face is shoved into Taehyung's neck, the scent and memory mixing into reality. I can feel hands pulling me out of Taehyung's grasp, snarls and growls, before I am laying on my back on the couch, a weight over me. My scent gland exposed, a mouth latching and nipping. A hand hovering my mark from Taehyung, before slowly rubbing over it. My body falls slack, vision returning and finding Yoongi pressing me down, a comforting weight, and lapping at my unmarked gland. I turn slightly, eyes finding Namjoon, who is rubbing over the mark, sending jolts down my body.

"You're safe, here with us" Yoongi murmurs, lifting his head to find my eyes.

"I think it's best for the rest of you to mark her, so her animal feels completed in the den, but nothing else for now. It's too dangerous to trigger a heat, marking her will comfort her animal and help her to be pulled from her nightmares quicker. Slow the episodes down too. She should have been comforted by her first mate, being marked usually soothes my clients. But I have never seen a pack this size with a client. Start slowly, one mark a day until her animal calms down. You'll know when she is ready for more. I would like to see you 3 times a week, and talk about your dreams. Once you are comfortable, until then we can talk about your feeling with your pack." She concludes her session with Jin and Hoseok, while I continue to calm down, sagging in Yoongi's hold. Once the call ends, Taehyung pushes his way on top of me and latches down on my mark, his animal upset they couldn't comfort me. His mouth soothing the sting, his body molding against mine as he tends to the fresh wound. My eyes flutter at the sensations, the calm of the room and the stress from the call pulling me under. The last thing I remember is being lifted and carried, the smell of the den lulling me fully to sleep.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, I am currently back to work at both jobs and didn't realize how little time I would have, on top of how tiring it is after being on leave for so long

Taglist (open):

@dachshunddame @minjianhyung @minhanbyeol @m00njinnie @famousdelusionobservation @danielle143 @dragons-flare @kimsaerom @butterymin

[bubble-popping]

day 57 last bit I have of dragon Dream and wolf Punz :]

By the time the tray was empty, Punz felt more full than he had in years. Dream placed it back on the cart then slid off the bed to stretch his back, wings reaching high above his head and tail going rigid as audible pops were heard. He went to sit at his vanity table and reached over to pull at a strip of tapestry to his right a few times. Though curious, Punz remained quiet, much preferring to gather the thick blanket around his form and nuzzle the warmth. It was odd, Dream's scent. Sweet like honey with a distinct undertone of roses. Not what they expected for dragon hybrid royalty, but very pleasant nonetheless. In fact, Dream's entire room didn't seem to fit his title.

With the light of the sun shining through the open window, they could better make out all the details. Pictures of friends and family lined the walls, the dirty laundry from last night strewn across the floor, a cluttered mess of papers and books on his work desk. It all looked... painfully normal. Like Dream was the same as any other young man his age.

Not that Punz knew what that meant. His life had been anything but normal.

"How was your sleep? I hope I didn't smother you. Should've warned you I'm a cuddler." Dream glanced back at them in the midst of brushing his long hair.

"Huh? Oh, it wasn't a big deal. I slept okay." He didn't need to know it was the most restful sleep Punz had gotten in a long time.

"That's good to hear. Your room will be made up by the end of the day, so either way you'll get your own space soon."

Not too long since the last one, another knock came at the door.

"Come in, Calla!" Dream answered. A deer hybrid entered the room only to pause upon seeing Punz. He blinked, head tilting in question.

As if sensing his confusion, Dream piped up, "That's Punz, my personal guard. Punz, this is Callahan, a dear friend and excellent tailor. He's here to take your measurements so we can get a proper wardrobe started."

"Ah, that makes sense." They reluctantly unraveled their self from the cocoon of blankets and got to their feet. Callahan promptly began taking his measurements, wrapping a measuring tape around his limbs and torso in several different places.

"Make sure to send the measurements to Sapnap when you're done, Calla. He'll need ceremonial armor as soon as possible."

"Ceremonial armor?" They absent-mindedly asked aloud. That wasn't good. This atmosphere was too calm, too casual; they were losing their training.

"For my coronation. All guards will have special armor, but personal guards in particular must be dressed their very best," Dream explained as he collected his golden hair into a neat braid.

Soon enough, Callahan finished taking measurements and bowed to them before leaving the room. Afterwards, Dream stood from his vanity, braid tied off with a juniper-colored ribbon at his lower back, to open his closet.

"You'll have to wear my clothes again today. I'll see if there's anything you can wear."

Eventually, Dream emerged from his closet once more already dressed for the day in a poofy dark green top trimmed with gold and light tan pants, and an outfit in hand for Punz. Just like last night, they went into the bathroom to change. He'd given them a white blouse with bees and flowers embroidered on the hems and buttons in the back. The pants were black slacks that reached higher in the front than the back, giving their tail ample room to lay naturally.

[bootleg-parable]

Guilty Tango ; A Parable Progression

It was another Tuesday.

Somehow, this book had yet to grow old, and here User sat, reading it for the seventh time since his arrival to the office. Something about the writing always reeled him in. Something about the atmosphere, the characters, the irony. It was a good book to get lost in. With ease, it always took his mind off of everything else when he needed it, and it kept him from constantly bothering–

“User?”

. . .Teller.

Two hands settled gently upon User’s shoulders and spun him 180 to be facing away from the desk at which he was sitting. User closed the book and rested it in his lap as he looked up to meet an expecting smile. He stared into the glowing opacity of Teller’s glasses as blankly as he could manage. He often wondered what the older man’s eyes looked like beneath the shining glass shields, but alas, there was no way around them, and User wasn’t one to pry.

“Did you need something?” He asked quietly, and briefly he turned his chair’s swivel to put the book on the desk. He had the feeling he’d be leaving it soon.

Teller took hold of User’s arms. “I am officially–” He paused to hoist the other to his feet. User did not protest. “Off the clock.”

“And only one hour later than yesterday. You must be so proud."

“Ahem. I. . .I apologise. Sometimes things get a little too busy around here.”

And yet User has never seen another person in this office building aside from Teller and-

...

He didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m here, now.” Teller’s glove brushing up against the unwrapped side of User’s face made him bristle. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

User squinted. “I was kidding, Teller.” He swatted the eldest’s hand away. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“The way that you looked at me said otherwise.”

User’s facial expressions didn’t typically change. He didn’t think it had then, either. But perhaps Teller saw something that User didn't feel or care enough to realise. Even so, nothing came to mind, and he knew that Teller was insistent, almost to a charmingly annoying degree.

He only shrugged. Teller frowned with nothing more to say, and User, admittedly, was growing cold under that empty stare of his. Another reason why he wished that Teller would take those glasses off at least once. It was uncanny to look at his face and see nothing but two strips of beaming white glass where eyes should be. Glasses didn’t come like that. . .But he supposed he wouldn’t really know. He couldn’t remember anything before the office, and any memory that sprung to life in his mind always died and vanished soon after. Nothing was left for him. Not while he was here.

Is this even the real world? Surely it couldn't be. Not if Teller was capable of "respawning" in every instance after death. But maybe all of these people weren't actually Teller. Perhaps it was a title. Perhaps User never met the man he thinks he has.

In his spiral of thought, User didn’t even notice that Teller had gotten alarmingly close to him, with a grasp on his arms again, and was humming a tune to the both of them as he swayed in place. User stumbled, startled, and once his mind kicked back into functionality, it only got worse. Teller was trying to dance with him. User didn’t fancy the idea all too much.

“No–” He stuttered, leaning back to put distance between them. His voice got closer and closer to a whisper the more that he spoke. “Teller, I can’t– I don’t know how to dance.”

Teller only grinned. “How painfully stereotypical of you.”

User had seen this before. Every reset followed the same set of events, no matter how much time it took to reach certain ones. They couldn’t do this. User was trying to stop the loop, not entertain it. Oh, but how was he going to explain this to Teller without just hurting his feelings? Or without spilling the truth of this reality to him? Was there any way around this without looking like the bad guy? Maybe that’s something he’d just have to live with.

“Shit.”

He was so bad at it, too. You’d think with how many times he’d repeated this exact moment that he might’ve been better at dancing. But he kept tripping up. He stepped on Teller more than once now, but as always, the other’s patience was endless. Maybe User could just step away. Maybe Teller wouldn’t be bothered.

But what if he would?

“Sorry–”

He stepped on his friend again. Damn it, why couldn't he get this down?

“You are a terrible dancer, dear boy.” Teller insulted, but he laughed, and in that, User knew he was only teasing.

He tried to hide his embarrassed smile in Teller’s coat. He didn’t need to be seen grinning like that. He didn’t want to get close to this version of this man. It would make his death a lot easier to take if User couldn’t prevent it- to know that they were never as close as his previous selves were.

Hm.

Teller was so warm. It never occurred to User that he’s never actually hugged Teller until it was too late. Every embrace was never returned. Instead he always spent his final moments in a loop hanging on to something dead. Someone dead. This might not have been a hug, per say, but it was a welcome change of pace. To be this close to Teller while he was still alive.

While he was. . .

“Let go.” He pulled himself free. Teller might have blinked with surprise, but User couldn’t tell. He tried to think of something to cover up his abruptness. “I told you, I can’t dance.”

“I can tell,” Teller shot back. User couldn’t read it as playful or not anymore. That made him ache. “I stopped counting your fumbles after the tenth one, snrk–”

Teller didn’t usually take things personally.

That was a relief, and User sighed to acknowledge that. Teller rubbed the other’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m only poking fun at you, User.” He reassured, having taken the sigh as despondency. “You were doing fine.”

User gave him a look. There were far more troubling things to get twisted up about. Teller’s silly little insult was far from being one of them. And speaking of which, he had plans to write out. He couldn’t stand around humouring this game anymore. Lucky for him, Teller picked up on User’s wanting to be left alone.

“If you need me, simply shout for me,” He announced his departure as he started off down the hall. “I will be in the library, reorganising.”

User nodded once and watched him disappear around a corner. He didn’t like being alone very much, even less so knowing that Teller was alone. Anything could happen. He didn’t know if that damned 8-Ball would wait for everything to play out as it typically did. Maybe it had fun watching User scramble around for solutions with the time provided. Maybe it would catch him off guard and take Teller away from him while he wasn’t looking. There wouldn't be any light steps taken about this subject. Even if the end never truly was the end, User didn't want it to happen.

There were so many ways that this could all go wrong.

There were so many loops that all came to the same conclusion, no matter how hard he tried.

There were so many memories that only he retained and couldn't share.

User didn’t like being alone very much. . .

. . . There was a sound from the library. A loud, devastating sound. Something in User’s stomach dropped, and before he could even process the situation or his feelings, he was already mindlessly running down the hall. His heart was racing.

He was right.

The worst had come ages before the suspected deadline.

Teller.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Erik being affectionate….you’ve officially gotten me hooked <3 I’m also currently pretty sick so the last Erik ask was SO GOOD- I don’t wanna rush you since I see you already have some rqs but could you maybe do more affectionate Erik 👀 ❤️

Hope you’re feeling a lil better Moodie💕💕 Seems like a lot of sicknesses and allergies are going around lately :(

Erik’s heart pounded as the orchestra’s sound crescendoed, then quieted to silence with his guidance as the conductor. This was the closest to a perfect performance he had ever reached— every student had played their part beautifully, and the atmosphere in the room was filled with breathless wonder, broken by rounds of applause. Most importantly of all, you were there.

Erik turned, catching your eye in the audience, and bowed. The students behind him also stood and bowed, and he lead them off the stage. The audience slowly dispersed, the students’ loved ones waiting in the lobby to congratulate them on the performance. You waited too, excited to talk to Erik.

It didn’t take long for him and some of his students to leave the back room and come into the lobby. The students were glowing with happiness, and Erik looked so proud, complimenting them on the performance. Once he saw you, though, Erik grinned— grinned!— and walked over to you immediately, taking your hands in theirs.

Your heart caught in your throat at his expression; it was rare to see him so happy, so full of life. Your own smile only grew as they leaned close and nuzzled his nose against yours, thanking you for coming to the performance.

“It was absolutely beautiful! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” You assured him.

He looked deep into your eyes, voice serious, “Still, it would have been nothing without you here.”

Before you could respond, a few students began giggling and making kissy noises at the two of you. Erik pulled back, embarrassed at the public display of emotion, and glared at them. The students dispersed quickly to avoid a scolding, still giggling amongst themselves.

You snorted and linked your arm with Erik’s. “Come on, handsome, let’s go home. Unless you’d like to go out to eat first?”

“Home,” he decides, cheeks still pink and lips pressed in a thin line.

“Okay,” you lean in and kiss his cheek, smiling fondly at the way their flush spreads to the tips of his ears.

The two of you make your way home, and finally get to change from stuffy formal clothes to more comfortable loungewear and pajamas. Erik smiles, seeing you curled up on the couch and curls up next to you, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

You hum happily, leaning into his touch. He’s usually not so cuddly.

“Thank you again, for… for coming with me, to see the performance,” he pauses, and thinks perhaps he was being a bit too vulnerable. How could he possibly explain the way your presence changed the music? Changed his conducting? The way music had never made his heart soar like that before, the way you made his heart soar. His angel, his muse. “…It means a lot to the students, you know.”

“Your students don’t even know me that well!” You protest, giggling.

He just wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. It just makes you squirm and giggle more. Even if he can’t figure out how to say what he means, he hopes you’ll still understand.

[doberbutts]

Hi! Very sorry about the vague bitesports ask - I wasn’t actually aware that there were multiple types!

Could you start by explaining a bit more about what you and Fenris do for mondioring?

Oh, sure, but I think first you should acquaint yourself with the rulebook: https://www.fci.be/medias/UTI-REG-MON-en-4624.pdf

(This is a PDF file, it will download, that is intentional and not a virus I promise, I have literally this exact file from this exact link saved on both my phone and my laptop)

Your original questions were:

What is the overall goal of the sport/what is the dog specifically being trained to do? Are there competitions, and if so, how are they judged?

In regards to mondioring, mondioring is a competitive protection dog sport based off of french ring, which was based off of belgian ring, which was based off of the belgian border patrol program. However mondioring itself was always intended to be a sport, not a military or police program or something to determine breed-worthiness. It was developed as a fun handler's challenge instead of anything else.

As a side note, I think this is why mondio tends to have the most relaxed atmosphere as well as tends to draw the least amount of really intensely bigoted people of all the bitesports. I'm not saying they don't exist in mondio, in fact I can name a few names right now that are rather notorious for it. But it's very unlike IGP (the most popular bitesport within the US) where you can't go a week without tripping over a nazi, a sexual predator, or a domestic abuser... occasionally all of them in the same person... being outed and then immediately defended by the wider sport-going population. I also find it tends to be more friendly to women, racial minorities, disability, and marginalized genders and sexualities- which was reflected in a recent poll done by the USMRA that stated that while it's mostly half and half, it's technically women-led in the US with 51.6% of competitors identifying as women and the rest identifying as men.

(Which either means there was no nonbinary option on the poll or what nonbinary people took the poll were not comfortable identifying as such, which tbh is fair, bc as said bitesports tend to be a hellscape for anyone who's not cishet white and abled- I know I have two nb ppl in my club but they also id as nb women so that may also skew results if not polled correctly)

The goal of mondio is, put simply, good and correct work in increasingly challenging and ever-changing environments. Mondio differs from other sports because each trial is different. They are themed and each theme can completely change the picture. Unlike in sports like agility, or even sports like IGP and french ring, where the jumps always look roughly the same and the retrieves are always dumbbells and there's always a pause table and it's a specific pattern that maybe the individual method of going about the pattern changes from field to field, the total picture always looks roughly the same to the dog... in mondio, the exercises are always the same in the vaguest sense but the means of going about them are different.

For instance, we just had USMRA nationals, which was a pirates theme. That means that the jumps looked like pieces of ships sticking out of "water" (grass), the distractions to see if the dog would break its stay included the decoys having a sword fight, cannons and splashes of water went off constantly, the retrieves were things like toy treasure chests, glass bottles with paper inside, swords, and gold coins... The work that the dog has to do remains the same- you must stay, you must retrieve, you must jump, you must bite- but this becomes more a test of how well your dog has generalized these behaviors and how strong your dog's nerve are environmentally than of precision or perfection.

That is also why you can still place on the winner's podium even if you don't qualify on a passing score. This is recognized to be difficult, so those who don't DQ are still praised for trying. Failure has the attitude of "you gave it your best! now you know what to work on for your next try!"

It also means the judge is looking more for overall correctness rather than dinging you for every possible infraction (usually)

Finally, having done both IGP (with Creed) and mondio (with Creed and with Fenris), I'd say that mondio is less mentally stressful on the dog when it comes to protection itself. There is less focus on defense and aggression and more focus on prey and play. While some exists (face attack, defense of handler), the best way I've ever heard it put is that mondio is much more of a conversation between the decoy and the dog where they are sparring partners instead of mortal enemies.

Creed genuinely wanted to hurt the decoys who worked him, and got angry at the thought of being held back from doing so, and technically that is very correct for a doberman to displace such defensiveness and anger in their protection. Fenris does want to keep biting the decoy, but it is more because he finds this to be a very fun and deeply pleasurable thing to do rather than any feelings of actually wanting to cause harm. I also have been very careful not to work him on decoys that will bring this out of him, even though I do think it is correct for the breed to be like that, because his breeder assures me that when the time is right he will with the defense he needs. I have no need for a civil dog, and what little protection in my day-to-day I've required he's more than satisfied, so to me as long as he passes his temperament tests as an adult and is competitive in sport, I don't really need him to be another Creed.

[friendlyneighborhoodsynthezoid]

Pirate Batch! Echo- Part 3

Coruscant didn’t sound so bad to Echo. He’d been there several times, and he had fond memories of shore leave with his squad before…

Before.

But clearly things had changed. Echo guessed that Coruscant was not a popular place to go if you wanted to stay under the radar. At least, that was the impression he was left with as he watched the reactions of the Havoc Marauder’s crew.

In the wake of Hunter’s announcement, the entire group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Eyes darted around to one another’s faces; many throats were cleared. After several long, strained seconds, the tense atmosphere was broken, surprisingly by Crosshair. He snorted and stood up from the table abruptly. The hissing sound he made could have been considered a laugh, but not one with any sort of mirth. “We’re all going to die,” Crosshair said, before stalking out of the room. The others simply watched him go.

Then the spell broke. Wrecker stood and slapped Echo on the back- nearly sending his nose through the wooden tabletop- and began clearing dishes. In no time, he stacked everything up and disappeared towards the galley.

Next to go was Hunter, who had a perturbed look on his face as he muttered, “I’d better go make sure Cross doesn’t kill anything,” he gave them all a nod and an apologetic smile and left to follow the wayward crewman.

Last to leave were Tech and Phee. They had spent the last few dragging moments talking quietly about something Echo didn’t bother to overhear. Before he left, Tech paused his conversation and turned back to Echo.

“I imagine this reaction is not what you would anticipate, Echo,” Tech said. He did look mildly regretful, which Echo was starting to realize was about as much as could be expected from Tech. “I assure you we have good reason. I promise I will explain everything to you shortly. For now, I must simply implore you to trust us. You may claim a hammock, if you like, or return to my office if you prefer. I will be along to check on you shortly, once a few matters have been settled.” With that, he and Phee left.

 Echo didn’t appreciate being sent to his room like a misbehaving child, much less being ‘checked on,’ but he supposed that there was something he was missing. Tech certainly seemed to think so. Out of uncertainty- or perhaps spite- Echo didn’t move from the table. Everyone had jobs to do or important conversations or something of some importance at least. Meanwhile he was simply here. Because there was no where else he could be.

He didn’t know how long he sat there at the deserted table, enjoying his impromptu pity party- he seemed to have a lot of those these days- when a motion caught his attention from the corner or his eye. He turned to see the scraggly tooka, Gonky, wobbling up to him. Echo stared at the tooka. The tooka stared back. It meowed. At least, Echo thought it was a meow. It could have been hacking up a hairball or wailing like a sea spirit for all Echo could tell. Clearly there was something very wrong with this tooka. The tooka butted its head against Echo’s metal shin and then took couple steps back and leapt up to land on his lap. Gonky settled himself on the astonished Echo’s legs and purred. Echo was torn between pulling the thing off him or letting himself enjoy the sensation of a living thing being near him. Even if it was a horrible orange tooka that seemed to be missing an ear, some fur, and most of its braincells.

Well, Echo mused, bitterly running his hand across his own hairless scalp, we might have some of that in common. Echo hooked his metal arm underneath the creature and heaved it up to lay across his shoulders the way he’d seen Wrecker do earlier that day. Finally finding the motivation to overcome his odd inertia, he stood up and clomped his way back towards Tech’s ‘office.’ The man had offered, after all and Echo did not fancy encountering a wild Crosshair in the crew quarters at some ungodly hour of the night.

Echo settled himself in the office hammock. It was a nice one. He wondered how frequently Tech left this room when there wasn’t a weird stray Echo inhabiting it. From the general state of the place, he guessed not often.

Echo tried not to feel to discouraged that his mind started to blur with fatigue the moment he lay down, transferring Gonky to lie on his stomach. After all, what did it matter if he was useless now? He could only hope that the crew of the Havoc Marauder would manage to get to Rex, and that maybe – just maybe- that would somehow make everything better. Rex had to know something, didn’t he? If he were honest with himself, it was a faint hope. So, he simply lay and petted Gonky’s scraggly head while he waited for things to make sense again.

__

He must have dozed off. When he woke up, he was staring directly into a pair of sharp and angry eyes. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out in alarm. Crosshair was perched on the edge of Tech’s desk, face alarmingly close to Echo’s and glaring as if he planned to set Echo’s skull ablaze by sheer will. Gonky awoke and hissed at the man. Crosshair tore his eyes from Echo’s just long enough to switch targets and hiss back at the cat. Gonky mewled and cowered beneath Echo’s metal knees.

Suddenly, the door opened with a bang and Wrecker tromped in. The giant man wasted no time in coming right up to them and hauling Crosshair off the desk by the back of his coat.

“Hunter said he wasn’t a security risk Cross. You can lay off the stalking now,” Wrecker set Crosshair down in the doorway, carefully positioning himself between Crosshair and Echo. Crosshair held Wreckers gaze defiantly, before taking a reluctant step away. Before he was out of sight, he cast one more glare straight into Echo’s soul. I’m watching you, was the clear message in his eyes, I do not trust you. Then he was gone.

“Be a person!” Wrecker shouted after him.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Wrecker said, turning back to where Echo was extricating himself from the hammock, “he’s just jumpy around new people. Eventually he’ll get over it. Or not. We’ll see.” Wrecker snorted.

Echo tried to match the man’s humor, but he was pretty sure his smile was more a pained grimace than anything else. He forced a weak chuckle. “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much in the way of respectable company if even the captain has a skull tattoo over half his karking face.” Maker, please let him have judged Wrecker right…

He had. Wrecker burst out laughing, startling Gonky out of the hammock and sending the tooka bolting from the room.

“HA!” Wrecker boomed. “I told him it was a dumb tattoo!” he calmed somewhat and grinned widely at Echo, “Yer not wrong, mate. But word to the wise,” he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially- though Echo noticed that his whisper was still not much quieter than his regular voice.

“I learned its best just to encourage him. He’ll get real defensive about it if you mention it. Goes on and on about his ‘image’. Fun to watch Cross bug him ‘bout it, not that he has much of a leg to stand on,” Wrecker held his hand up on top of his head like tooka ears and gave a small hiss, “not exactly approachable either, is he?”

Echo laughed truly this time, and it felt… good. He breathed a bit easier for it, as if something heavy had been lifted from his chest. “Then it’s a good thing they’ve got you, isn’t it?” he tried.

Wrecker nodded happily. “That’s right! I’m here for-” he screwed up his brow in deep concentration- “Die-plo-ma-cy, I am! At least, when I’m not busy cracking skulls.”

Wrecker led Echo out of the office as they chatted, his presence alleviating some of Echo’s anxiety about wandering around on the ship. Echo decided he liked Wrecker, even if he was loud. He reminded him vaguely of someone he may have known once, before…

Before.

That reminded him. “Tech said he’d talk to me about Coruscant.”

Wrecker stopped walking, and Echo halted as well. The giant had led them among more hammocks to a corner of the compartment that must have been his bunk. Echo’s cursory inspection deduced that the place was a health hazard, an armory, and a child’s bedroom all rolled up into one. He thought he spotted something made of red and black fabric nestled among blankets and cannonballs. Something with a face?

Wrecker sat down on the floor and Echo copied him, electing to ignore their strange surroundings for the moment.

“Tech said I could fill ya in,” Wrecker started, “he’s either arguing with Hunter or snogging Phee, and either way I’d rather not bug him.”

“Tech and Phee?” Echo interrupted before he could stop himself.

Wrecker only laughed. “That’s what we said too!” he half-shouted. “And to be honest its more likely he’s off telling her about some fascinating new frog species or something. I dunno. Whatever works for them. We don’t pry. But he did send me to tell ya the game plan.”

“Coruscant’s not so friendly to folks like us these days. The Empire likes it there, and it likes us dead. We find it best to stick to the outer islands when we can. But we think your buddy Rex is there with his little Underground,” Echo’s ears perked up, and Wrecker continued, “apparently the best way to fight the Empire is from under its nose. I generally prefer a good explosion, but we help out where we can.”

“Phee said she’d take care of the Marauder for us while we slip in to check on things. If all goes to plan, we’ll either find Rex or we’ll find someone to get message to him. On that note,” Wrecker gave him a curious look, “what is it you want us to tell him ‘bout you?”

Echo hadn’t thought this far ahead. He had no idea what he wanted to say to Rex, especially if Rex thought he was dead for who knows how long. Wrecker seemed to sense his uncertainty.

“Don’t worry about it yet,” Wrecker said kindly, “we can’t be giving him too many details till we’re face to face anyway. How about a code or something’? Something he’ll recognize as from you?”

A tough question. Did he even remember enough to make a good code? As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. The words came spilling from him before his conscious mind could interfere.

“Tell him… not all Dominoes fall.”

[rikitachiquita]

come back... be here | ni-ki

✧ synopsis: working at a cafe can be really fun: the customers being nice, cracking jokes with your coworkers, singing while brewing coffee and so on. but it's even more fun when two members of the staff bicker and fight all day and keep everyone entertained. that's what  hybe cafe is like, thanks to ni-ki and y/n.

⋆10 my little chai tea sugar cookie (written 0.7k)

after a long day at work, y/n finally got to her house. she knew that everyone would already be there, and by everyone she meant her brother, yeonjun and beomgyu.

as she entered the door, as expected, she was welcomed by a bunch of screams, but the only one she could clearly distinguish was yeonjun's. the bly had some strong vocal cords.

beomgyu came running to her, using her body as a shield

"he is trying to put an end to my life y/n!" he screamed

that's when yeonjun came into the picture, armed with a pillow that was swinging around

"you stole my last strawberry gum!" the oldest screamed back while trying to get to beomgyu who was still hiding behind y/n

as y/n was about to tell the two menaces to calm down, soobin stumbled into the entry-way, with a dirty cloth draped on his shoulder and a pot in his hand

"THAT'S IT YOU GUYS ARE PAYING FOR MY MAC AND CHEESE"

the three boys started running one after the other, trying to get revenge in any way.

during these caos, soobin with his dirty pot, bumped into y/n, who still hadn't said a single word since she entered the house. and in that moment, the guys stopped and all that could be heard was silence

"if you don't give me mac and cheese right now and SHUT THE FUCK UP i'm going to kill every one of you" she said in a calm threatening tone.

and the three man did just that: they quickly and diligently stopped acting like little kids and prepared her food. they ate all together, the atmosphere now calm.

after dinner they decided to play just dance for a while. as expected y/n and yeonjun won, both only getting "mega star" level. y/n wasn't called the "mega star queen" for nothing.

after a pause, beogyu told y/n to follow him and they got to her room

"so" said the boy "do you have something to say"

"not really" she responded

"do you like ni-ki" he asked. he was very straightforward, fortunally for y/n who always would beat around the bush, to scared to say what was on her mind"

"i mean, he is funny sometimes and he is very beatuiful but i wouldn't say i like him, not in that way at least"

"and your tweet?"

"he was cute"

"sure"

"it's true! beside i think he hates me, kinda? i know that bickering is our thing and i really enjoy it cause it's fun but sometimes i feel like there's some truth to what he says"

"i don't think so, you should see his smile when he turns around after talking to you"

"nah, he hates me"

"whatever, i know i can't change your mind when you overthink, even if you are wrong" the boy said "and kai?"

"i don't actually like him, he is just a pretty person i would like to know" she explained " it's kind of a bit to myself and myself only"

"i knew it! he isn't really your type"

"who is my type then?" the girl asked, wanting to know how much her best friend knew her

"ni-ki"

in y/n's mind a big yellow sign with an exclamation point showed up.

"shut up, i'm going to sleep" she said

"good night my little chai tea sugar cookie with red sprinkles on top" beomgyu said

"taylor'a cookies?"

"exactly, we will make them tomorrow"

"good night to you too my little chai tea sugar cookie with red sprinkles on top"

soobin, having heard the last bits of their convo whispered "they are so weird"

and yeonjun to that reponded "you are just jealous that you are no one's little chai sugar cookie with sprinkles on top"

"sure"

"but you are my little french toast with maple syrup and a cappuccino in the side" the oldest said, giving a squeeze to the younger's cheek

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✧ note: sorry for the long wait but i got sick two times in two weeks again

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[pasdasin]

Entanglement ch 2

levi x reader

summary: walking home is crazy 😭

cw: cussing, violence, bad grammar, didn't proofread

a/n: i forgot to mention that I aged down Levi to 26 so the story made more sense 💀

previous -- next

read under the cut

The walk home after your shift felt more heavy than usual. Someone was targeting you and the man you thought was dead. How naive to believe that Levi could truly die. The more you pondered his existence, the possibility of his life, the cruelty he bestowed upon you, the rage in your heart grew. How dare he forget all about you, about the life he left behind. Levi Ackerman was a cruel man but the man you had once loved. The man you had mourned for years. The only one for you. You clenched your fists as you approached your house, the house you had shared with your closest friends. Looking up at your window you noticed movement inside. Your eyes widened and panic filled your bones. You carefully creeped up the stairs as you slid the knife you kept on your garter into your hand. You listened to the commotion inside, they all seemed distracted now was your moment. 

Without hesitation you kicked the door and grabbed the nearest person, holding the knife dangerously close to their jugular. 

“I don’t care who you are if you make one more move I will slit this person’s throat and kill all of you,” You growled out, pushing the knife further into them. 

“Yeah guys please don’t move,” your captive said quickly, fear lacing their voice. Time seemed at a stand still until you heard him exit your once shared room. Levi?

Losing your focus for a second, the person in your grasp quickly overpowered you and pinned you to the ground. You gasped for air and looked up to see that your eyes didn’t deceive you. In front of you stood Levi Ackerman, the man who left you for dead.

----

A couple days before

Levi stood in front of his squad trying to find the right words to say. How could he explain what was going on without him giving up all of his personal life. Levi had always valued his privacy. The idea of oversharing made him feel sick to his stomach. He finally looked up to meet the gazes of his squad and cleared his throat.

“Someone is targeting the Survey Corps, and more specifically the people I care about,” he paused, biting his tongue. The whole speech felt so gut wretching to make. “I received a box in the mail with a now confirmed human heart inside it and a note. In short terms we are all in danger. I have already been ordered by Erwin to fall back and hide out while we figure out a new plan. We will be staying in my… old home. We leave in a few hours. Only pack the necessities.” Levi dismissed the group of teens before turning to look out the window. Guilt was eating him alive. How could he return home after all that he worked for on the surface. After everything he had to leave behind. 

As the squad started their journey to the underground entrance, they all grew excited to see where Levi had lived. Jean had assumed it must be a place near nobility, Sasha hoped the food would be so good that she could die happy. But when they entered the capital, instead of seeing the beautiful homes of the nobles, the squad approached the entrance to the underground. 

“Listen closely brats,don’t interact with anyone first, if you are in trouble and I’m not there, fight to kill. I told you before we are fighting humans now. Don’t drop your guard for a second.” Levi looked at everyone before starting the descent into the underground city. 

The familiar atmosphere of his childhood seemed forgein to him now. The walk to his house, however, felt like second nature. It had only been a little less that seven years since he ran these streets and since his life changed forever. What must’ve felt like forever to the rest of his squad, felt like a second to him. Looking up at his old home, he felt cemented into the ground. The thought of you being alive made his heart skipped a beat. Subconsciously he walked towards the door and turned the handle to find it unlocked. 

Holding his breath, he opened the door and felt everything rush back to him. The rest of his team filled the room and started to settle down while he just stood. Everything was exactly the same as the day he left, expect for a few new pictures that hung on the walls. On one of the shelves stood only four pictures, a result from some weird device they had stolen from some mega rich pig. Pictures of his friends stared him down and in that moment he felt helpless. 

“Um Captain?” Levi broke out of his trance and looked to Armin. “Where should we settle our stuff?” 

“Let me check the house first before we get comfortable, we don’t want to be caught here.” Levi the walked towards the back rooms of the house. With newfound privacy, Levi felt tears threaten to fall down his cheeks as he ventured into the bedrooms. The way they managed to find a three bedroom and afford it was beyond him. The two rooms that once belonged to his closest companions only had cots and a rack for clothes, the master bedroom actually had a bed, a nicer one than he remembered and looked lived in. He entered the room and saw the only confirmation he needed to see that the letter was true. The necklace he had stolen from some noble’s wife sat on the bedside table. The necklace he gave to you. 

He was pulled out of this thoughts when a commotion happened in the living room. Levi quickly rushed to see what happened only to see you go down and meet his gaze. 

“y/n…”