#i might just need to spray him with a layer of super clear just in case

[3lizab3t]

Bishonen TwoFace figure is done :)

[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[marvelousstevetony]

Hi! I was just wondering if for the emotions prompt thing, you could do insecure Steve. With Steve being nervous about Tony thinking he is gross when he’s sick? Maybe he’s worried because another avenger in the tower was sick and Tony seemed disgusted by it... so Steve assumes Tony will feel the same about him? If that’s too specific, feel free to do whatever with insecure :) Thank you for your writing! :)

Ahh, anon, it’s not too specific at all! This prompt is so soft and so so sweet. I’m sorry I’m taking so long to answer these prompts, but I’ve beens super busy lately. I hope you see this and enjoy this little ficlet <3

3.1k, steve/tony

***

“Don’t you think you’re being a tiny bit… overdramatic?” Bruce asked cautiously.

“What? This?” Tony gestured to the medical mask he was wearing, as well as the plastic gloves and the disinfectant spray he held defensively in front of him. “Absolutely not.”

It was Friday evening and the entire team was gathered, for once, which could only mean one thing — team movie night. It had become a routinely thing for them, and every movie night seemed the exact same. They always watched something different, but everything else was just like it used to be.

Well, almost everything.

During the first couple of movie night, every team member had found their regular seat. Nat had quickly call dibs on the large armchair closest to the kitchen. Bruce had claimed the second armchair that stood on the opposite side of the sofa, and though Thor was often off-world doing off-worldly stuff, he would usually sit in the bean bag whenever he was at the Tower. The sofa was occupied by Clint, Tony and Steve; Clint in the end closest to Nat, Steve in the other, and Tony was squeezed in between them.

It had been like that since they established team movie night, but this time, Tony was going to break the tradition.

“Tony,” Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, just sit down.”

Steve tapped the empty space in the sofa next to him and sighed yet another time when Tony grabbed a spare chair and put it next to Bruce.

“I am,” Tony said as he sat down in the solid, uncomfortable seat with a thump, “sitting down.”

“Tony,” Steve said again, this time with an exasperated tone.

Tony just quirked a brow and eyed his usual spot with disgust. “You’re dead wrong if you think I’ll sick next to patient zero over there.”

As if to prove Tony’s point, Clint wrinkled his nose and coughed harshly into his fist. Steve looked sympathetically at the archer and scooted over, filling the place Tony normally would. “Then we’ll switch seats,” Steve said persuasively.

Tony went quiet, gaze flickering between Clint, Steve, the empty seat next to his boyfriend and the wooden stool he sat on. After a few seconds of deliberation, Tony seemed to have made up his mind.

“I guess that’s… negotiable,” he drawled, but he had already started moving towards the sofa, and when Steve lifted his arm for Tony to fit under, the brunette cuddled in close. Steve smiled in victory and pressed a kiss into Tony’s soft, messy hair.

Tony sighed contently against the warmth of Steve’s body, suddenly feeling sleepy, and he let his eyes fall shut. Just a few seconds later, however, Tony took a peek at Clint through narrowed eyes.

“I’m keeping the mask and gloves, though.”

***

The next morning, Tony was called to an SI-meeting in Tokyo. He and Steve had only been together for about two months, officially dating at least, but Tony was already in so deep that he couldn’t picture not sleeping next to Steve for an entire two nights. Steve had chuckled at him and kissed his pout away, wishing him a safe flight.

On Monday, the day Tony was going to be back in New York, Steve woke up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose. His head felt fuzzy, like it had been stuffed with cotton, and his vision seemed to blur when he sat up a little to quickly.

He reached for his phone, then blinked rapidly and turned down the brightness, his sensitive eyes still not fully adjusted to being awake. When he could see somewhat clearly, he saw a message from Tony.

Good morning, handsome. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Might be late for dinner but I’ll be home before bedtime. xx

Steve smiled, looking forward to being cuddled up in bed with Tony after a couple of nights of sleeping in a bed that was far too cold and far too large despite Steve’s super-soldier sized body. Then, suddenly, a cough rattled through him, and Steve bent over a the waist with the force of it, and he was left wheezing slightly.

It felt familiar; Steve could never forget feeling this way, this fatigued and feeble.

He was sick and he internally cursed Barton, positive that he’d spread his germs during movie-night. But then Steve remembered that he was the one to voluntarily sit next to his cold-ridden team member and basically placed himself directly in the risk zone.

Steve sighed heavily. Maybe he should’ve taken a page out of Tony’s book and worn a mask.

***

“uhhTSCHooosh! Ugh, excuse mbe.”

“Bless you,” Natasha said, an off-hand comment as she continued looking at mission files, but she nudged the tissue box closer to Steve when he kept sniffling into the cuff of his hoodie.

Steve grabbed a tissue and scrubbed at his nose with it, sighing a stuffy thanks into the material. He blew his nose quietly to stop the sniffles, but it only seemed to intensify the lingering itch. He could feel it burning all the way from the back of his nose, but it seemed stuck, leaving him with teary eyes and a series of false starts.

“h’ehh! ehh- snff! Uh- h’uh!”

Steve’s breath caught, the itch now filling his entire head, and he shook his head uncontrollably, trying to impede the sneeze, or coax it out, it didn’t really matter. All he wanted was to get rid of the irritation, one way or another. And after a few seconds, the tickle grew stronger, his nose twitched violently once, twice, and then he drew in a sharp breath.

“uhhhISH’uhh! huhHIISHHoo! USHHiew!”

Steve sighed, satisfied when his head was cleared from the buzzing sensation, but he felt bleary and snuffly after the forceful sneezes.

“Geez, Rogers, you’re a mess.” Natasha looked up from the files with a concerned expression. “Bless you.”

“I know… sorry,” Steve said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I picked up Clint’s cold.”

“You think?” Natasha raised an eyebrow and smirked, but it was good-naturedly and her eyes were kind. “From what I can tell, this seems worse than what he had, though.”

“Yeah, I, uh, snff! I don’t think I’ve had a cold this bad since before the serum.” He tried to recall when he last felt like this, like he might pass out from exhaustion, even though he hadn’t moved all day, but he just remembered the times when Bucky had taken care of him before the war. “I’m alright, though.”

“Sure you are, tough guy,” Natasha grinned as she stood up and dipped down to squeeze Steve’s shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen. “So, what kind of tea do you like?”

***

“Sorry, Cap,” Clint said, sounding genuinely apologetic as Steve recovered from a coughing fit.

Steve shook his head and swallowed a sip of water from the glass Clint had given him as soon as he’d started coughing. “Not your fault,” Steve croaked, his voice raspy.

Natasha took a bit of her apple and leaned across the kitchen isle, glaring at Steve with examining eyes. “I still don’t get it. You were fine last night.”

Steve shrugged and ran a hand over his face. “I guess it just hit me all at once.”

Clint just hummed, and Natasha frowned, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“I think I might go to bed,” Steve announced after a few moments of quiet. Natasha and Clint exchanged a look Steve was too tired to even try to interpret what meant. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, crossing the kitchen to put his glass in the dishwasher.

“Bed? It’s 7:30, we haven’t even had dinner,” Clint pointed out.

“I’m not really hungry. I think I just need to lie down a little,” Steve said and smiled tiredly, trying to look like he was still a functional human being even though he was sick, but failing miserably with his bright red nose, watery eyes and slumped posture.

“You sure?” Natasha asked. “We can make soup for dinner, it’ll be good—”

Steve shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just not hungry… thanks, though. Really.” He smiled at them again and walked out of the kitchen, turning left around the corner.

“Uh, Cap?” Clint called out, confused. When Steve’s head popped back into view, he continued. “Your rooms is the other way, pal. You sure you’re okay?” Clint’s tone was light and jokey, but behind it was a thick layer of concern.

“Oh, yeah… Yeah, I’m just going back to my old quarter.” Steve pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the room Steve had slept in before he officially moved into the penthouse with Tony.

“Why?” Natasha asked, also confused.

“I, um… Tony’s coming back tonight and I just… God, it’s so stupid.” Steve chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I just don’t want him to see me like… like this. Everyone saw how disgusted he was when Clint was sick, and now I’m the one who’s all gross and germy and…” he trailed off as Clint and Natasha looked at him with soft expressions.

“Steve, if you think Tony’s going to break up with you because you’re sick then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Natasha said, voice somewhere between sincere and exasperated.

“… I’m too tired to take offence to that,” Steve sighed. “I’m not worried about him breaking up with me, he’s not a monster… he’s coming back from Tokyo and he’s probably exhausted, and he definitely doesn’t want to have to deal with… all this.” Steve made a vague gesture to his face and completed his sentence his a sniffle.

He sniffled again, and as if on cue, his nose twitched. Holding a fist loosely in front of his face, he jerked to the side and let out two throat-scraping, congested sneezes.

“hrruuushhh! Hrrushch!”

“Bless you,” Natasha and Clint said in unison. Steve acknowledged the blessing with a nod and reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled tissue to sniffle into. He looked absolutely miserable, his nose chapped and raw, cheeks flushed from fever and his eyes were glazed over and completely drained from energy.

“Look, Steve… I’m positive Stark won’t mind, and if he does, then that’s his problem. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with his own messed up mind, okay?” Natasha’s eyes were wide, and her eyebrows were drawn into a frown that said do you understand? It softened, though, when she watched Steve duck his head and his lips curl upwards.

“Thanks, you guys,” Steve mumbled in a small, fond voice.

“You sure about that soup, though? Or tea, tea would also be-“

“Not hungry,” Steve repeated, almost sounding sorry. “I’ll head up then. And, uh, thanks… again.” He smiled faintly and walked out of the kitchen. A few moments later, the two spies heard the ding! that sounded form the elevator heading for the penthouse.

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Tony called out as set down his briefcase before toeing off his shoes and loosening his tie. He sighed contently at the mixture of the relief of being home and the thought of finally getting to cuddle up next to Steve. When his boyfriend didn’t answer, he called out again. “Steve?”

Looking at his watch, Tony frowned. It was barely 10 pm, which was a lot earlier than the time usually went to sleep. He went to check the bedroom anyways, but the bed was empty and unmade, which… that was odd, because Steve always made the bed.

He wasn’t in the bathroom either, so Tony went back to the living room, and… oh.

On the sofa, lying in a nest of pillows and blankets, was Steve. One could only guess at how Tony had missed that when he walked in, but he was tired and jet-lagged, so he excused himself. He went over to examine the den and smiled adoringly down at Steve. His face barely peaked out from the cocoon he was wrapped up in, but Tony could clearly see the relaxed expression on his face.

Groaning as he sat down next to the sleeping soldier, Tony rubbed a hand up and down what he thought to be Steve’s arm. He couldn’t quite tell, though, through all the layers, but he kept smoothing his hand over the blankets until Steve’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

“T’ny?” Steve rasped.

“Hey, you,” Tony said, smiling. “What are you doing out here, hm?”

As Tony’s hand moved towards Steve’s cheek, the soldier drew back. At Tony’s bewildered appearance, Steve explained.

“Don’t— uh, you probably shouldn’t touch me. I, umb, snff! I have a cold.”

Steve blushed, and the pink tint to his cheeks wasn’t from the fever as much as it was from embarrassment. He glanced at Tony, then turned his gaze away when he felt Tony’s eyes locked on him. He drew even further away from Tony when he felt a well-known tingle in his nose, nostrils quivering and face crumbling before he stifled two sneezes into the blanket.

“huh-NGxtt! Hnngt-Ngxt!”

“God bless you,” Tony murmured and placed his hand on Steve’s cheek even though Steve had told him not to. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so sick, honey?”

That was… not quite how Steve had expected him to react, but he melted into the gentle touch, too selfish to flinch away again.

“I didn’t, uh-huh! s-sorry, hh-! H’ushoo!” He sneezed more freely this time, curling away from Tony. “Excuse mbe, SNFF! I didn’t want to bother you with it.” He felt kinda silly saying this, especially after seeing Tony so… not bothered at all.

“God, Steven, you could never bother me,” Tony said as he ran a hand through Steve’s sleep-mussed hair. “How long have you felt bad?”

“Just since this morning… been tired all day, though, so I thought an early night would do me some good.”

“Why aren’t you in bed then?” Tony asked, looking at the massive pile of blankets.

“I knew you were coming home, and I-I just thought it’d be better if I slept out here so I wouldn’t disturb you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Disturb me,” he said incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

Steve felt himself go shy. “Because I’m all… icky and gross and— and I know you don’t like germs  and all that, so.”

“Please, Steve, I don’t care about that. You’re sick, there’s no way I’m not taking care of you.”

Steve thought his heart might have doubled in size with emotion, warmth flooding in his chest as Tony soothingly stroked his forehead.

“Sorry,” Steve said. “You just seemed at little… twitchy when Clint was sick, so I figured…”

“I know. Maybe I was a little overdramatic… Only a tiny bit, though,” Tony smirked and Steve chuckled.

“Well, look where it got me.”

“Hm… I’m sorry if I seemed insensitive, and I’m even more sorry if I made you feel bad for being sick. Friday was just… long and exhausting.” Tony sighed. “I promise you, I don’t mind one bit of this.” He leaned in closer to Steve, pressing a kiss to his forehead and letting out a concerned noise at the feel of burning hot skin against his lips.

“You need to get out of these. You’re burning up.”

Steve whimpered in protest as Tony tugged at the blanket. “But I’m cold.”

“You’re running a fever, Steve… We need to get you some medicine and into bed, okay?”

Steve nodded and slowly sat up straight, feeling woozy at the shift in position. Tony steadied him and helped him to his feet, bringing an arm around Steve’s waist and guided him towards the bedroom.

“Sorry I’m so sick,” Steve murmured, slumping onto the bed and started pulling his hoodie over his head, leaving him in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

“Shh, don’t apologize,” Tony cooed. “Get comfortable, I’ll be back in a second.”

The comforter was cool when Steve’s shifted underneath it, feeling good against his feverish skin and sent shivers down his spine. He leaned back into the pillows, head resting comfortably, and closed his eyes with a quiet moan.

Steve wrinkled his nose and rubbed firmly at it, trying to impede the building itch, but within a few seconds it became too strong, and he pulled the collar of his t-shirt over his mouth, waiting for the inevitable sneezes.

“Hh… eh! Heh’CHushh! TSS’hhuh! snfSNF! Hh’tsh!” He released his grip on the tee and gave a little ticklish cough, muttering under his breath, “Jesus.”

“God bless you, sweetheart.” Tony emerged from the door, carrying an overloaded tray. “Good thing I brought tissues.”

“Along with half of CVS,” Steve sniffled and smiled softly.

“These are essential, Steven,” Tony defended and sat down on the bed. “Tissues, Tylenol and de-congestants, some… other thing I found in the cabinet, tea…”

“I think I’ve had enough tea for a lifetime,” Steve admitted, but he reached out and grabbed the steaming cup anyway.

“Sick people can never have too much tea,” Tony said, putting his hand in Steve’s hair and massaged his scalp gently.

Steve sighed, feeling tension he hadn’t even noticed was there bleeding out of him, and snuffled into the tea. The steam made him able to breathe through his nose again, but it left him sniffling and it made his nose run. He gratefully accepted the tissue Tony offered him and handed over the cup before blowing his nose.

Tony hummed sympathetically when blowing his nose made him cough, and Steve went a little bashful at the attention. “Sorry…”

Tony shook his head, wanting to tell him not to apologize for what felt like the tenth time within the hour he’d been home, but instead he snuggled closer to him, wrapping an arm around Steve’s broad shoulders and placed a soft peck into the messy, blonde hair.

They ended up putting on an old 80’s movie in the background while Steve took the medicine and finished his tea. After that, they cuddled up, Tony telling him about his trip to Tokyo and the SI-project they were starting, but before Tony got to the part where he got off the plane in Japan, Steve had dozed off, his head resting against Tony’s shoulder.

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.3

The Mission

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock x reader (no SR x MM x r)

Word count: 2700

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. Mission in progress; You’re going in. Spoiler alert: it goes about as well as Steve expected.

Warnings: violence, blood, swearing, banter, unconsensual drug use (kinda?), injury 

Story Mastelist

────── ·❆· ──────

“Alright, guys. We’re clear about everything? I’m coming in first, opening the door for you. Natasha, you’re with Clint, you’re going after Vasiliev and intel. Frosty and Daredevil are onto the girls and their guards. Tony, try to get to the basement level, I’ll join you as soon as possible. Questions?”

“Won’t Secretary Davis be pissed about Frostbite coming to save his daughter instead of Captain America?” you noted, a bit annoyed that you actually had to ask that question. You couldn’t care less and you were actually fine with your task, but… sadly, this was politics too, not just a rescue mission.

Steve sighed. “I’m the leader of the mission. I’ll be everywhere, that has to be enough.”

“What’s in the basement?” Clint questioned and you could see a shadow of worry covering Steve’s face as he put on his helmet.

“I don’t know. And I don’t like it. That’s why I’m sending the least vulnerable people there.”

You gulped, chill running down your spine. You didn’t like they should be going there just the two of them. “You should wait for us.”

Steve shook his head. “Can’t do. If there are weapons the guards can use against you, we need to secure them.”

“Goddammit, Steve! You told me-“

“You have your orders, Frosty. Follow them. You know this distribution of resources makes sense as it is,” he shut you down, his blue eyes piercing yours in warning.

You knew he had told you something he didn’t want to tell the others and you shouldn’t have pulled it out. But you trusted his instincts and you felt like this was the source of his concerns and the others should know that.

You raised your chin, crossing the short distance between you and the Captain.

“You don’t go there alone. You stay with Tony.” He escaped you gaze and you grabbed his forearm. “Steve.”

He looked back at you, his eyes burning with honesty. “Same goes to you, Snowflake. Everyone. Don’t do anything on your own. We’re a team. Don’t forget that.”

As if someone could ever forget being a teammate to any of you – you were all a bit too special for that. But you could see what he meant.

The team nodded in agreement, gradually leaving the jet. They ‘parked’ it about a mile from the building Tony had located the girls in, nothing but woods around you. You kinda envied Tony his suit – what you wouldn’t give for a flying suit to avoid the running right now. Or any time, really.

Alright, stop whining. Let’s do this.

────── ·❆· ──────  

You hated Steve sneaking in alone, but he was your best shot; he could be the most subtle apart from Natasha, who lacked the super-strength needed for breaking the locks. You could have frozen the locks, made them fragile and broken them easily, but Steve was better at hand-to-hand combat, which allowed him to get rid of the guards. Also, his body was less vulnerable. You agreed with Steve being the best choice; however, that didn’t mean you liked it.

When he opened the back entrance for you, you couldn’t supress the wave of relief; he seemed unharmed. It was ridiculous, because the mission barely started, but you hoped that from now on, he wouldn’t be alone.

“The hostages are in the west wing of the building,” Tony’s voice sounded in your ear and you nodded, glancing at Steve one more time. He smiled at you warmly before taking off.

“Stay safe,” you murmured as if he could hear you.

“Let’s go,” the Devil encouraged you softly and you both broke into a jog. Time to save some sorry asses.

The Devil turned out to be a good partner in crime – he always stopped you before taking a turn, warning you when someone was close, which gave you enough time to prepare yourself and won you the element of surprise. Also, he totally kicked ass; so far you had had the opportunity to see him in action once, because your own opponent had already been knocked out, and if you would say you didn’t forget how to breathe when seeing his quick sharp blows, you would be lying through your teeth.

“You okay?” he had asked you then and you had just shaken your head to snap from your trance and beckoned to him to move.

And then there was the door. The door, because Daredevil tilted his head to side, his hand on your forearm to pull you closer.

“Fifteen heartbeats. Four of them younger and scared. That’s our girls,” he whispered almost soundlessly into your ear and you bit your lip, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Weapons?”

“Few riffles.” His jaw tightened. “Probably knives, it’s hard to tell. There is no wood or water in the room as far as I can tell, but there’s lots of metal, the sound is bouncing off it – I think the girls are on the floor, leaning their backs against it.”

You stared, awe-struck, forgetting to try to imagine the picture he was drawing for you; instead, you were watching him as he had a look of the highest concentration on his half-face.

“You okay?”

You blinked, waking up once more. Jesus, get a hold of yourself, loser. “Yeah, sorry. Just… it’s incredible.” He seemed puzzled. “What you can do.”

A brief smile raised the corners of his lips. “Thanks. Not too bad yourself. Work your magic.”

You obeyed, touching the round doorknob, its metal immediately covering in a layer of ice and spreading to the whole door – its temperature dropped enough for the molecular structure to change.

Daredevil spared one more glance at you and the two of you simultaneously kicked out; the door shattered as if it was made of thin glass.

All hell broke loose. You barely managed to disarm two shooters by icing their weapons before a spray of bullets rained your way and you had to take cover behind one of the metal cabinets, the Devil throwing his billy clubs and disarming two others while knocking one out.

“I’m icing the main alley, you okay with that?” you hissed over the distance and he immediately nodded.

Your hand hit the floor, sending a thick belt of ice down the route – to your satisfaction, you could hear the gunmen curse and few of them went down with a thud and blind gunfire to the ceiling as they slipped.

A second later, the path was clear of ice, the distraction allowing you to attack again while the Devil sneaked into one of the smaller alleys, surprising the men from behind.  

Freezing their hands was the priority; the weapons fell on the ground one after another. Unfortunately, that also meant the men went after you and they were really pissed. The ones who could still handle to carry some kind of a weapon switched to blades; Daredevil had been right.

You did your best to fight off everyone who came at you, using an icicle through their limbs when necessary. It was a method far from your favourite, but it was efficient when needed.

The floor was quickly covering in a layer of bodies of unconscious men. It took them a while to realize that their buddies were being attacked from behind by Daredevil – idiots, lots of them.

Receiving a kick to you lower back sending you into a cabinet, making your belly meet the edge, put you into the category of idiots too.

Shit, how had you missed this one? You quickly turned, still leaning onto the cabinet and blocked his lunge by kicking his stomach, making him stumble backwards. Next thing he knew, he was frozen to the wall and you punched him unconscious.

You spun on your heels to look for another opponent, ducking on instinct – a second later, a knife was sticking out of the wall in the same level your head had been.

A crack echoed in the room, followed by an agonized scream. Your gaze shot in that direction immediately, seeing the Devil cracking a guy’s wrist and dislocating his shoulder. You winced. With the man being the last one standing, you only guessed he had been the one to throw the knife. And Daredevil just elbowed his face, his own teeth barred in a savage grin which only a fool would call a smile. The man fell to the ground.

“Remind me to not to piss you off. Ever,” you panted, approaching Daredevil’s masked figure. His hands were clenched in fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he seemed fine. He snapped his head higher to face you better, his posture relaxing just slightly.

“Same goes to you,” he beckoned to one of the bastards who had their thigh stabbed with an icicle, impressively big even for you.

“Didn’t have the time to be gentle.”

“Incoming. Six more men. Fair sharing? Four for me, two for you?”

You gaped at him, not sure if he was kidding or not. The smug was so evident even on his half-face and you just couldn’t-

“Wipe that smirk off!” you hissed at him, laughing, spinning to the girl who didn’t get the memo and hadn’t hid yet. “Go to the corner, take cover. Things might get messy again. Anyone hurt?”

You took the zero response as a no. Devil confirmed your theory. Because of course he would know. He knew fucking everything.

“Which door?”

Daredevil beckoned to the one that were still in place. You grinned, creating a layer of black ice right away. They deserved a proper welcome. Daredevil gathered his weapons and prepared himself too.

Three fingers on Devil’s hand raised.

Two.

Now you could hear the gunmen too.

One.

You hit the ground with your palm once more and let the black ice spread under edge of the door too – they threw it open with their balance already shitty. You and your partner used the advantage immediately. They were disarmed before they even realized what was happening.

The Devil was right in the end – you only got stuck with two opponents, the thugs probably assuming you were the lesser problem. Sweet summer children… the winter is coming, bitches.

By the time you were done with yours, Daredevil was still fighting two of his own, one of them just throwing himself on the armoured figure; you quickly created ice for his feet to be stuck in. He almost lost his balance from the momentum with his feet suddenly disabled. The Devil sent the other man down with a powerful hook, soon elbowing the one standing pretty much frozen behind him to his face. The man lost consciousness immediately, his body going limp; you released his feet.

“Thanks,” the Devil called out and you spent one precious moment shooting him a smile. A second later, his billy club flew inches from your face, successfully taking down a guy behind you that you apparently hadn’t knocked out properly.

“Thanks,” you parroted, your smile faltering. Sloppy.

“That’s why we’re partners, right?”

For a second, you lost yourself in the lopsided grin he gave you. Shit. You heart. His smile widened.

“Get a room,” one of the girls whined and you snapped from your trance, squatting to her to untie her hands. “Thanks.”

“Fuck,” Natasha cursed in your earpiece and you tensed. Had not everything gone as smooth as with you and DD? “Steve, get out of there. NOW.”

Your heart must have stopped that second; she sounded as if she was panicking. Natasha Romanoff never panicked.

“What is it, Romanoff?” Steve asked lowly, a little out of breath. You could hear him fighting and your feet itched to get to the basement. But someone had to stay with the hostages.

“I’ll go,” Devil whispered, brushing your arm and you wordlessly pleaded him to rush. He disappeared in the doorway.

“Just get out! It’s a set up. They’re experimenting, developing an antidote to the serum that-”

She was cut off by gunshot and you sprang to the door as well.

“Stay in position, Gerda! I’m heading his direction,” Devil’s voice sounded in your ear and you had no doubt he was talking to you. You forced your feet to stop, gritting your teeth. If you weren’t so on edge, you might appreciate the nickname he had come up with.

“Steve, run,” you ordered adamantly, silently praying and absently checking on the four girls in the room. They were just bait. Vasiliev knew that taking Secretary’s daughter was a way to get Captain America here. Fucking shit.

Come on, Steve, don’t be a dick, don’t play hero and just get your ass out of there. It’s over anyw-

Three more men burst into your room. Shit. So much for things being over.

You didn’t worry about getting them seriously hurt now. You froze their guns first, their shocked screams echoing in the room as the icy metal gave them an immediate frostbite. Then you created a layer of black ice under their feet, their lunges in your direction ending up in their limbs tangled together. Some of them were frozen to the floor by hands, some of them by their feet, sides. You didn’t give a fuck. You knocked out all of them, stabbing one of the other goons who came back into consciousness with icicle through his forearm. He roared in agony and passed out again.

A different scream made your blood run cold.

You never heard that sound before, but you were sure as hell whom it belonged. It was Steve’s. Steve was in pain. And in horrible pain, because you had never heard him scream.

“Shit!” Tony cursed through the comms and the sound of his repulsors came next. “Romanoff, get the documents on that substance and head to the jet. I’m bringing him in and calling Banner right now.”

You barely heard him over Steve’s cries, though they were falling silent. You didn’t think that was a good sign.

And then they died out completely.

For a second, the world stopped. Everything froze as if you had blasted your energy, yet nothing went cold. No, the time itself must have frozen.

“Get out of your asses!” you yelled after the girls, startling them all. You were coming to the jet right now, all of you, because you couldn’t leave them here, but you wouldn’t worry about the goons. Others would take care of them or the clean-up squad of agents coming after. You needed to see Steve. Now. “NOW!”

The girls shrieked, but complied, stumbling to their feet.

“Move it,” you hissed. “Down the corridor, stay close so I can protect you, but for fuck’s sake move.”

You barely heard them muttering something under their breath, your pulse too loud in your ears.

Steve was hurt. Steve was probably injected with some fucking anti-serum and— you blinked away your tears. Not now. You would see him first and then came to catastrophic conclusions. Not now, not now…

The way out of the building was endless.

“Faster!”

The girls immediately did as you ordered. They were probably scared of you; you couldn’t care less. Your friend was in unbearable pain. And shit, you felt cold all over your body. You hadn’t felt that for a while.

Tony had cut himself off, so you couldn’t hear him until you stumbled into the quinjet, seeing his figure hovering over Steve’s, lying unconscious on the improvised bed. There was a hologram of Bruce’s face, Natasha flipping pages for him; at your incoming, she handed the file to Tony and went to help you with the hostages.

“Stay here,” you hissed at the girls, pacing to the bed.

Steve’s back arched, his body in spasm and you gasped, reaching for him.

“Don’t touch him now, let it be.”

“You’re kidding right?!”

“He’s right, convulsing person shouldn’t be held down-“

“Read you fucking files, Bruce!” you shot back, but clenched your hands in fists to stop yourself from touching Steve. You vision blurred.

“Hey, cool it, Elsa!” Tony snapped at you, trying to make a sense of the files as well. “We’re trying! You have a Ph.D. you haven’t mentioned ye-“

“That’s it,” Bruce called out, astonished. “She needs to cool him down until you get him to me!”

Glares of everyone in the room locked you in. You tensed, horrified at the suggestion.

“You want me to WHAT?!”

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 4

────── ·❆· ────── 

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ 

As always; anyone wishes to be added/removed, shoot me an ask or a message.

Thank you for reading!

[mauserfrau]

Mau's Very Silly Headcanon Post

Since I have two pieces of fiction going live this weekend and they’re both going to be late due to butting into each other XD.

I did another one here and there’s going to be some overlap, but less bodily function stuff in this one (mostly spit) (also some vague references to medical trauma).

A lot of this is small potatoes because I didn’t want to spoil anything.  How Phaseleech actually works ends up being a plot point in what I have pending, so I actually can’t just come out and say what’s going on.  That said, I’m sure there are people here who want to know what’s on my mind, but who don’t want to sit through 50K words with half a dozen squick warnings.

That said: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau

Questions welcome, about this, anything else I think about Borderlands, what exactly is in Chapter 13 of Satellite, if it’s true the one flashback actually happened to Mom... 

Both

-Look, the only thing I did that’s appreciably off-canon is let them have emotions.  Maybe I drove into left field with what those emotions were, but that’s really all anybody’s got to do to fix this situation.  Go with the deity of your choice.  

-If I was headed for a Gearbox ending, it would be for the scrapped one, not the one we got.  See this and this other thing.

>>>I would still have written the twins as having something resembling a meaningful relationship regardless of whether that turned out romantic or not.  As things went and are, them as a couple was something I knew how to write and my mom shipped them (no, I’m not kidding).  

-I’m not going for a canon ending.  Mercy, did I find a thread I could snap and take the whole sweater out.  

-Both had blue siren markings when they were born; Troy’s turned red after they were separated.

--Which was a complicated mess-- they were upside-down verses each other and had several secondary adhesions, the most notable of which was Tyreen’s face to Troy’s thigh.

---Leda never 100% recovered from the emotional or physical trauma, but she put on a brave face for the last sevenish years of her life.  

---Troy’s tissue loss was severe and left him with a notable pit in his upper right side.

---Tyreen also has heavy scarring running from her right armpit to her right hip.  It’s not as complex, but it is very visible.  Missing a fair amount of intestine compared to the average human, but this has apparently never bothered her beyond the fact that visiting the toilet when you don’t eat is not fun.

-Semi-identical twins. Have 82.5% of their genes in common.  LSS, neither one is a parasite.  They’re two sperm plus one egg and they didn’t divide right.

--Ms. Phaseleech* didn’t know any better.  #oops  

--If you get them relaxed enough, they will indeed curl up together in their “fish” position.

-Tyreen is the one who would wail first if separated from her brother when they were very small, but they don’t like being apart even as adults.  

-Both very well-read, used to recite The Odyssey to congregants instead of scripture (‘cause they didn’t have any scripture). 

-Good to excellent hunters. Depends what they’re hunting and if they’re together.  Prefer to go barefoot if there’s no one else around.

-The circumstances surrounding Leda’s death are appreciably worse than fanon baseline to the point I don’t think I ought to leave them lying around in a Tumblr post.  

-Both have wavy hair if they don’t iron the daylights out of it.

-Prefer to be on the road and around people, even if a fair amount of those people are going to end up dinner.

-Get weirdly soft-hearted around kids, especially little boys with a similar complexion to their own.

-Do they have any concept that they’re horrible people? Yes, but it’s very academic and not something that motivates them.  You’d be way more likely to hear them frame themselves as hedonists, which also explains their worldview to a certain extent.  

~*~

Troy

-Skinnier than most other Troys.  You could put him in a room with every fandom Troy and sort them by muscle mass, you’d find him at the bottom end, partying like this was an accomplishment.  

-Has an X-linked connective tissue disorder which is more extensive than he lets on.  He really should not do about 90% of the stunts he does because of the vascular involvement.

-Made a categorical decision to treat the associated pain with a lot of cannabis and massage.  Has a distinct resin and honey body butter smell because of this.

--Also, if you get him off-hours, there’s going to be a fair amount of “but why are we here, man?” discussion.

-Has a kink in his upper back.  His spine tilts to his right.  Not super noticeable, but if you were on massage duty, you’d realize something felt out of place.  

-Used to get catastrophic nosebleeds, though these have lessened in frequency and severity over the years.  

-After a certain point, has a permanent latching socket port installed on his right side, allowing him to switch arms out as he likes.

--Because he has a selection of eccentric ones.  What? It’s a challenge to learn to use non-human aspects like claws or feathers or forty joints in a tentacle.  

--Still flounces around without one if nobody of consequence is watching and generally won’t sleep with one in.

-The insides of his ear gauges are messy and don’t even get him started on changing the jewelry on any, erm, other piercings he might have.  (Nipples and one off-center PA.  That was QUITE enough after what it took for his tattoos to cooperate.) 

-Will frame any illness or off-day as a migraine, which he does get.

-Had really bad teeth before his mouth mods.  After that, has none of his natural teeth remaining.  Primarily uses his exceptional bite radius to annoy others, show off, eat sandwiches in a disturbing fashion and do unspeakable things in bed.  They’re for show.  They’re not functional in any serious way.  

-Doesn’t have great control of said mouth mods in the heat of passion or if you get him laughing hard enough.  Hope you like spit!

-Still has rather heinous-looking feet, but he’s concerned about losing his calluses if he has them fixed.  You’d be more likely to see him open on an operating table than barefoot in public.  

-Always wants to be the little spoon.  You’re a tink? You’re a third his size? So what.  He wants to be the little spoon.  Just give in.

-Genuinely likes tea, especially flower-based tea.  Favorite foods include grits, polenta, tamales, campfire beefy rice, beef and broccoli layered onto somebody else’s leftover noodles, beef curry, beef sandwiches soaked in jus, steak tips on day-old fries and look just give him a sloppy plate of starch and dead cow if you need him to shut up.  

-Drinks vodka so cold and over-filtered it tastes like water, then follows it up with extra greasy, burnt-to-hell texas toast while talking about his mother.

-Lactose intolerant.  Please do not feed the rat child pizza. Or chipped beef on toast.  No, not even if he begs.  

~*~

Tyreen

-Abnormally acute senses, especially hearing/smell and including a form of intuition which targets where things she can leech exist nearby.  She’s only aware of any of this in the context of it being different from how Troy’s senses work.  She knows where to get food.  Don’t most people?

-Doesn’t perceive herself as 100% human.  The Leech is part of her and she likes herself.  Mama said she was perfect.  The details are whatever.  You got a problem here? Well, that’s easy to fix… 

-Would have been sorted as a tomboy growing up, but had no companions to do so.  As is, prefers the company of masculine individuals, loves showing people up in a boyish fashion and is absolutely going to tune you out if you start talking to her about the topic.  

-Reeks.  You might smell something “off” with her around in a meeting room, but get her sweaty or worked up and forget it.  It’s not even a human smell.  Petrichor and spray paint, menstrual blood and chlorine, dead leaves and solvent.  It’s chemical, it’s uncannily biological.  It’s really not OK.  She can’t smell it and Troy’s used to it.  

-Doesn’t shave.  Has fluffy armpits that don’t match her dye job and a rather spectacular bush that extends onto her upper thighs.  Does pluck here brows and the witch hairs on her chin, but otherwise, you know what, nah.

-Heavily tattooed, but this is limited to her torso.  The viewing of said tattoos, as well as her scars, is a ritual in her particular CoV.  

--Not that she cares about being naked.  A body is a body.  You people are so uptight.  

-Will reflexively guard her lower stomach before anything else and sometimes in error.  Do not call her on this.  You will piss her off.  

-Has an eye-shaped siren marking, but it’s on her left shoulder blade and she tends to forget it’s there.  More aware of the “pointer mark” underneath her navel.

-Poor tolerance for any drugs.

-Can only ingest salt, sucrose and 80 proof or better clear alcohol without retching.

--Which is to say she doesn’t eat “people food”.  

--Fatty or high-fiber foods tend to make her ill faster.  She could possibly keep tofu or chicken breast down for an hour or more, but it’s still not going to end well.  

--Can and does eat cinder toffee because it’s one of the few things she can chew and digest.  Konpeito is nice too, but sometimes the dye upsets her stomach.  

--Milk, maybe.  Human works better.

-Enjoys swimming or long baths.

-Ambidextrous.  Was either born that way or picked up doing certain things left-handed because that’s what her brother had to work with and she had to show him how to do stuff somehow.

-Good with a forearm-mounted crossbow.  Either hand is fine.

-Used to drool precipitously when she leeched something “good”.  Mostly has a handle on this by the time the CoV gets to be a thing.  Mostly.  

-Deeply immature love language which might include her actually asking to play with her prospective partner and a good bit of bullying.

-SHE IS NOT SHY ABOUT HER NEEDS AND KINKS.  THE HELL WITH YOU.  YOU’RE MAKING SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING.  HOW DARE YOU.  DO YOU WANT TO BE SKAG BAIT ON THE NEXT LIVESCREAM.  UGH. #nottsundereatall

~*~

* The Leech IDed herself as, erm, herself in some stuff I’m not sure I’ll ever post but ANYWAY.

[badsext]

Kid Klaus’ Christmas

The Concept: Hazel and Cha Cha go back earlier in time (before Five even learns about the apocalypse) to storm the Hargreeves mansion and take him out. They bungle it again…

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, drug use, underage drinking, violence. —————————– Fourteen year old Klaus wakes up from another night of barely sleeping. He listens for the others. Nothing. So he reaches under the mattress for the bag of weed he’s been hiding from Mom. He stuffs a towel under the door, rolls a sloppy joint and lights it, takes a few drags. It is strange to be the first one up, he thinks. But he just shrugs it off and pops a new mixed tape into his Walkman, one he made for himself with songs from The Smiths, The Cure, and Depeche Mode, songs of aching and longing.

Klaus lays back down, pulls the headphones over his ears and closes his eyes to enjoy his moment of peace before morning drills. Grace always knocks. He makes sure the volume is just low enough to be able to hear it. He smokes until the joint is so small it burns his fingertips, hides the evidence and sprays some cologne he stole from Diego. Klaus’ stomach is rumbling at this point, so he gets dressed in his uniform and ventures out of his room to see if breakfast is ready.

All the bedroom doors are open. The hallway is empty. The kitchen is empty. “Mom?…Pogo?” Klaus snatches a banana to eat while he continues to look for signs of life. How early is it exactly and where did everybody go, he wonders. He goes into the parlor. Mom has decorated - a tasteful Douglas Fir and literal boughs of holly. Funny how little they actually celebrate, but it’s Christmas Eve and at least the place looks the part. Klaus checks the old reliable grandfather clock for the time, but becomes deeply distracted by his reflection in the glass.

Something suddenly catches his eye. Moving figures in the courtyard change the shape of the light streaming through the adjacent windows. A twinge of fear sends Klaus to hide behind a column and peer through the curtains to see who it is. If he did miss drills, that probably means more hours locked in the mausoleum. To his surprise, there are two suited masked figures with guns standing in the snow. Maybe this is a test.

Hargreeves believes that guns are a crutch, especially for those with powers. The only gun in the house is Reggie’s old big game hunting rifle in the garage, which is too far away to be of use at the moment. Klaus needs a plan, but first he needs to hide, so he heads for the attic, his favorite hiding spot. Reggie wouldn’t be caught dead up there among the dust bunnies and old junk - that was the servant’s domain, so it was a good place to escape the old man’s torment for a while. The floorboards in the mansion make creaky music in certain spots, but Klaus has them memorized so he could avoid them when sneaking out at night.

From the attic with his ear to the floor, he can hear the intruders. “This place looks empty. It’s Christmas, right? I thought the kid was going to be here.”

“Well, look around. If we don’t find him maybe we can get a clue or something. Climbing that wall was a real bitch. I’m not leaving empty handed.”

“Let’s split up. Check all the rooms. We can’t fuck it up like last time.”

Last time? Who are these people and which kid are they looking for? Am I just paranoid?, Klaus considers the fact that he’s still pretty stoned. But if this is real, as the apparent ‘man of the house,’ he would need to step up. Scared, angry, demoralized…Klaus is all of these things, but he loves every one of his siblings and would be damed if he’d let a couple of masked assholes hurt even a hair on their heads. He determines that whatever he does, Reginald is likely to throw him in the mausoleum for more ‘conditioning,’ so he might as well just go for it.

Klaus takes some old drawing paper and a charcoal pencil from an unmarked box. Here he finds drawings, elicit ones of Hargreeves at his worst. Some are funny, some are just accurate. Maybe he is not the only one using the attic to escape. He regains his focus and begins sketching out a map of the mansion. If they are searching the bedrooms, he’d need to start at the other end of the mansion setting traps. They have been taught this skill, though Klaus has spent many of these lessons high, as he’s recently discovered how it provides some relief from his terrible power. He’d have to get creative. He looks around and spots Luther’s old dumbbells that are no doubt too light for him now. Maybe he could wait from above and drop them on these fools cartoon anvil style. He reaches for one and struggles to lift it, but it won’t budge. Nope. Okay, what else do we have up here…

He locates some darts, sharp ones that Hargreeves once made them throw at each other for practice. When they asked why they couldn’t use targets, Hargreeves insisted that they needed to feel a sense of urgency or it was a waste of everyone’s time. When the children hesitated, Hargreeves threatened them with punishment, as if it wasn’t punishment enough. Grace provided first aid for the resulting wounds. It was a miracle nobody lost an eye. Klaus stuffs several of the darts into his pockets.

Diego brings his knives any time he leaves the house, so Klaus wouldn’t have access to any of those, but the kitchen is full of knives and other sharp and heavy things. Allison has a flat iron in the bathroom that could come in handy. He recalls having experimented with it on his naturally curly hair. He could hear the chime of the clock in the distance. It was time to get serious. He collects some rope, super glue, and a flask he’d stashed up there for emergencies. It’s lighter than he remembers. Klaus suspects he’s not the only one using liquid courage. It is another reminder that he’s not the only kid suffering at the hands of his father. Whoever those goons downstairs are after would be counting on him. He hardens his resolve and climbs down the ladder to execute his plan.

In the kitchen Klaus rigs a mixing bowl full of every knife, blade, scissor, corkscrew, basically anything sharp and a blunt instrument or two above the door with the hope that something is bound to fall at the perfect angle to do some damage. It is hard not to make noise, but the kitchen is one floor and several rooms away from the bedrooms where the villains are searching. Klaus oils the floor as he exits and moves onto the parlor.

He finds a few packs of replacement violin strings on Vanya’s music stand. He ties them together between the columns to create a zigzag pattern. If it does’t trip them up at least it will slow them down, he figures. He hears them arguing in the distance followed by a loud crash and a chorus of metal clangs. 'Yes!’ Klaus celebrates silently with a little wink to the taxidermied owl on the wall.

“Now we know you’re here setting your cute little traps! We’re gonna get you, you little bastard!”

Klaus hurries up the stairs to the bathroom. He snatches Allison’s flat iron and applies some eyeliner, a little war paint, while he waits for the iron to heat up to 450 degrees. He brings the hot iron to Reginald’s study. Klaus removes the millionaire’s garish portrait to reveal a safe, a safe to which he knows the combination and has for months. He’s never taken anything, for that there would be hell to pay. He just opens it from time to time, touching the objects inside for the personal satisfaction. He sticks the hot iron inside, hides the cord and leaves it wide open. Then he stands at the base of the stairs. “I’m right here. Don’t you two have guns?”

Klaus dodges a barrage of bullets that miss as the bumbling assassins trip through his maze of wires. The chase is on. Klaus runs through the study and out through the other side, squeezing a generous layer of super glue on the door knob and closing the door behind him. The bad guys enter the study. “Hey look at that,” the big one sees the open safe.

“There’s nothing in there. Why would they leave an open safe with something in it? I’m sure the little shit took everything of value,” the short one replies.

“No, there’s something in there,” he insists, reaching blindly inside and grabbing the hot styling tool. He screams, shaking his burnt hand.

“You’re an idiot,” the short one goes for the door. Her hand becomes stuck. She is sure to lose some skin removing it.

By this time, Klaus has called the police and is waiting in the foyer. He goes to sit and is startled by sudden sharp pains in his thighs and buttocks. He remembers the darts in his pockets. The villains stumble down the stairs. Their masks are gone and it’s clear they have taken a beating. Each of them have handkerchiefs wrapped around their dominant hands, now barely able to hold their guns. This is the first time they have seen each other close up and face to face. Klaus is nervous and frightened.

“Hazel, is this the kid? I don’t even think this is the right kid.”

“Jesus, Cha Cha, I don’t know. Whoever he is I’m gonna kill him.”

A spark of recognition comes over Cha Cha’s face. “This is the kid - the guy in the towel we kidnapped…the junkie with a choking kink. Look at that face and add fifteen years.”

“Holy fuck. You’re right. Grab him. I want to make an example of this one.”

Klaus starts throwing darts as they approach. Police lights flash outside. It is too late to escape now. They are surrounded on all sides. Klaus has the satisfaction of watching them get taken away in handcuffs. Cha Cha’s words made no sense…well, most of them. Klaus is pulled aside for questioning. They give him a blanket and a glass of water while they take his statement. When Hargreeves and the rest of the clan return home, the police turn their questions to Hargreeves. Klaus overhears the police being offered and accepting money for their silence. The kids look at Klaus incredulously, too afraid to say anything in front of their father. Diego comes up to Klaus. “I tried to wake you up, but Dad said we needed to leave you behind…I was going to say you missed a wild mission today, but it looks like you had one of your own…That’s pretty cool how you managed to capture those two. Merry Christmas, man.”

“Merry Christmas.”

@bubblyani @helena-way07 @writingthosedaydreams @moorehollandplz @chipster-21 @bi-satanist @therealzoeyael @siriuslynore @yeetskeetbuddy @renegadesheehan @chokemerobert @fandomaddicted123 @dandycandy75 @zoemassingale @cottagecompanion @klaushollandyoung @klaushargreeves420 @dopeybubbles @zombiedixon89 @onedaysoonyoullsee @feral-cat-lady @eightpolygonidiots @vinawyatt

[agentkgent]

Fic: If You Want It Back

Chapter One: You’d Probably Think (Tumblr | AO3)

Chapter Two: If You Knew | Read on AO3

(This is a short chapter, mostly establishing that our boys are on opposite sides of the country as adults; They do not remember each other and they are not happy; this isn’t necessarily a HAPPY chapter, but it’s setting up for some cavity-inducing sweet fluff heading your way!)

- - -

Eddie | 39

“Eddie, there just won’t be enough room for all of this!” Myra insists, gesturing to the boxes of clothes.

Eddie gives a half-hearted chuckle and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, I need space for my stuff, too.”

Myra quirks her eyebrow at him and continues to argue. “This is my closet. That was the deal.”

“Honey, it’s attached to our bedroom.”

Myra turns icy at his response. “It is my closet. We’re in this tiny apartment that you wanted, that you said was so important, and I said I need my own walk-in closet. That was the deal.”

“Myra, this apartment is hardly tiny. And I have to be able to put my clothes away.”

“There’s a dresser over there,” she points.

He looks for a moment. “How can I fit all my things in three drawers?”

Myra shrugs carelessly. “And I didn’t get my craft room. Figure it out, Eddie.”

He sighs in defeat. “Yes, dear, I know.”

Eddie and Myra Kaspbrak are finally moving into their first home in New York - an apartment just south of Midtown Manhattan. It’d been a long time coming, a lot of long, frustrating conversations on home amenities and proximity to the airport. He had to do a lot of traveling, after all.

Eddie knows this isn’t what Myra wanted. What she wanted was a two-story, four-bedroom, two-bath modern home and a fucking jacuzzi in the backyard. If he had a nickel for every time he had to say, “I just don’t make enough money, sweetheart,” or “That’s too far a drive from JFK,” and “We may need to move, I can’t get locked into a mortgage just yet.” He mine as well have been negotiating with his mother. (God rest her soul.) Myra only understood that Eddie made “good money” with the insurance company. To her, that meant they made “plenty of money” to afford whatever she wanted.

He pulls off his jacket, and pulls up his long sleeves to get to work on his boxes of clothes.

“Eddie-bear, you know you don’t need all those clothes. Just get rid of some things,” Myra says from inside her closet. He refuses to turn around and watch her carefully placing her designer handbags and shoes. “Just keep work clothes out and leave the rest in storage.”

“Sure and I’ll just sleep in my work clothes, too.” He says quietly to himself. He carefully cuts open the first box and looks over the stack of nicely folded shirts in air-tight bags, organized by color. He pushes the box to the side and moves onto the next box, that reads “Eddie: Miscellaneous” on the side in marker. This one might actually contain stuff he can get rid of to appease his wife.

His wife.

Eddie loves Myra. Of course he loves his wife. Eddie is a good man with a good job and goals and loves his wife very much. Myra was the perfect woman for him, exactly his type. He enjoys kissing her. He enjoys sleeping with her. She takes care of him. She loves him. Not a lot of people love Eddie, but Myra does. She’s his better half. She keeps him in check. Keeps him focused on what’s important. ...Which, would be her, he guesses?

The key to a healthy, successful marriage is repeating these things over and over again until they’re real, right?

He hears his lovely, selfless, caring wife strut out of the room towards their new living room.

He cuts open the “miscellaneous” box, full of clothes that are not in air-tight baggies nor are they organized by color. He can already smell age on them, possibly dust and mildew from sitting in his mother’s storage. He pulls a few items out, looking at them and then back inside the box. There’s not too many things in here, but it’s obvious they are not from his adulthood. He then examines the few clothing items he’s pulled out - an old fannypack (From when he was a kid, always carrying his meds around. That can go;) an old pair of pajamas (Myra will yell at him for wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas like a teenager. These can go;) a couple old polo shirts (From college, probably. And probably too small by now. They can go;), a zip-up hoodie…

The hoodie looks like it might fit. (But he never wears ash-gray, it’s too cheap-looking for his tastes.) It is a jacket hoodie, might be nice for layering in cold New York winters. He looks over its condition. It’s very worn, almost like it’s supposed to look vintage. One of the wrist cuffs is ripped open at the seam, like someone’s been shoving their fingers through it, something only an annoying kid would do. There’s also a rusty brown stain on the opposite cuff, which is undoubtedly blood. Ew. He looks at the zipper of the jacket, which is missing a metal tab, and extra difficult to zip. Okay, well that’s great. There is no size or manufacturer tag, it’s apparently been ripped out. The strings coming out of the hoodie near the neck are discolored and dingy, and ...are those bite marks at the plastic ends? Disgusting.

There are dark, hard spots around the edges of the pockets on the front. He rubs his thumb across them gently, and knows. They’re cigarette burns. Wow. Well, this definitely wasn’t his, he’s never smoked a day in his life. He would really like to not die of cancer, thank you very much.

His thoughts are abruptly cut short when Eddie subconsciously catches a whiff of the jacket. Undoubtedly, he smells cigarette smoke. Maybe even marijuana, which he’s never touched. But there’s more than that. He pulls the jacket closer to his face, closes his eyes, and smells.

Body spray. Not the nice cologne Eddie wears, but some kind of cheap, douchey-smelling body spray meant to impress girls. Wood. Burning wood, like a bonfire. And… sweat. Someone else’s sweat. Which really should be gross, and it sort of is first, but he keeps breathing it in. It’s an unidentifiable, masculine smell from someone this hoodie belonged to.

There’s something warm in his chest. His heart is pounding as he inhales the jacket’s bouquet over and over again.

“It’s one of my faves.” He can hear a voice say quietly, from somewhere dark in his brain.

His hands are shaking as he sets it down and wipes his hand across his mouth and nose, fidgeting. His mind is racing to identify where this jacket came from, but he can’t complete his mental search. There’s like, nothingness where he expects to find answers. He can feel sweat forming on his forehead and his throat getting tighter. What is happening? Is this an asthma attack? He hasn’t had an attack in years. He puts his hand on his chest and forces himself to breath at a steadier pace, in and out, in and out.

“Eddie-bear, you ok?” He’s startled for a moment. How long was Myra standing there?

He clears his throat. “Yes, dear, I’m okay.” Gotta make up something to throw her off, he doesn’t want her thinking he has ever smoked. She’d never let him live it down. “Just trying to figure out if this is clean or not.”

Myra rips the hoodie from his hand, Eddie grasps at it pathetically. “Why? What does it smell like?” She holds the hood of it up to her nose, then scrunches her face at it. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Just smells dirty.” She tosses it back to him. “Also, it’s torn up. Why do you still have it?” She steps across the wood floors back towards her precious closet. “Just throw it out.”

He knows already this isn’t even his jacket. He just… doesn’t understand why he has it. What he does know is getting rid of it is not an option. He needs this. He’s… supposed to return it, he thinks.

He decides that there is room for it. So he folds it tightly and sticks it in the back of his bottom dresser drawer, where he hopes Myra won’t ever notice it.

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

Richie | 39

Richie wants to fall asleep. Everything will be easier if he just falls asleep. Everything will be over sooner if he just falls asleep.

He looks at his smart watch. It’s 2:40 a.m.

He’s lying on his bed in his LA home, naked except for his boxers, next to a stranger he has just had sex with. The sex was fine, pretty standard. She wasn’t interested in foreplay, which he doesn’t mind because he’s not good at pretending to enjoy it. He’s not really interested in her. She’s not interested in him either, he thinks. She’s probably just interested in writing about it on one of those bullshit ‘celebrity sex review’ blogs. A part of him kind of hopes, actually.

He’s sure of one thing: he wants her out of his home so he can continue to be miserable in peace.

The bed is shifting and he can feel a hand on his chest.

“You okay?” The stranger asks in an innocent voice that fools no one. She’s pretty enough. Rich, dark hair and brown eyes. Tanned skin and a nice body. He doesn’t remember her name or if they even actually talked at the bar. She knew who he was, and that was enough.

“Fuckin great.” He fakes a smile at her. She starts to snuggle against him, which is not the response he wanted. “Hey, listen, this was awesome, but I’m flying out early tomorrow.” He had really hoped to just doze off and deal with this in the morning. But his favorite lie usually worked to get these types of strangers out of his home, out of his life.

“Oh. Where are you going?” She rests her chin on his chest.

“...Chicago.”

“I love Chicago!” She giggles.

Another fake smile, but more difficult to pull of. “Yep.” And he gently moves from under her, leaning away.

“You should totally go to the giant silver bean and take selfies by it-”

“Listen, I gotta get up super early, so I’m gonna call you an Uber.” He lifts himself from the bed and walks across the bedroom to pull on a t-shirt.

“Oh? Okay.” She responds too happily. It’s irritating that she isn’t taking a hint. She gets up and begins pulling on her shorts and heels.

Richie heads to his nightstand, where he picks up his phone and requests an Uber to his Hollywood home. “‘Jerry’ will be here in six minutes in his ‘2015 Toyota Camry.’ He’ll take you wherever you want.” He’s not very good at hiding the fact that he doesn’t really care if she gets home, just as long as she goes.

He hears her ridiculously tall Stilettos click behind him and feels hands on his shoulders. “My number’s in your phone. Call me when you get back?”

Goddamn it, just go already. “Sure.”

Her arms drop to her sides and she makes an annoyed noise. She just got the hint.

His sexual guest struts across the living room towards the entryway, holding her bag and jacket. Richie can’t help but examine her ass as she walks, even though there’s no longer any mystery to what lies beneath her shorts. He scans the room for anything missing (he’s been robbed by a hot woman once or twice) and sees a bright pink bra and lacy top still lying on the couch. He  sees that she is wearing his shirt, on her way out.

Nuh-uh, no, NOPE, they are not playing this game. “Uh, sweetheart.” He whistles. She stops and turns to him, and he responds by eyeing her up-and-down. “Can I have my shirt back?”

She tests him with a coy smile. “Well, maybe I’ll bring it back to you?”

“No, no no no no no no, you can wear your own clothes home. That’s my favorite shirt.” He extends an arm and is flexing his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.

She’s taken aback, but comes back towards him to take off the shirt. Slowly. Presenting her tits.

They’re not that impressive. And she’s being annoying, so he’s done pretending to be charming.

He smirks, snatches the shirt from her hand, and then walks back towards his bedroom.

He can hear her shuffle to pick up her remaining clothes, her heels clicking across the floor. She scoffs. “So, that’s it?”

He doesn’t face her, he just raises a waving hand to gesture ‘goodbye.’ “That’s it!”

“Wow. Fuck you.” She spouts.

Richie tosses his shirt on his kitchen counter. Bless his open floor plan. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

She mockingly laughs and opens the front door. “You’re an asshole. And you’re not funny.”

“Okie dokes!” He says casually at her.

The Uber driver pulls up behind her in the driveway. “ASSHOLE!” She shrieks, and slams the door shut.

He slumps onto his stupidly-expensive couch and exhales in relief. “Yep. I sure am.”

He doesn’t know why he allows himself to get used by every horny fan he meets. (And “fan” is a generous term. None of them even give a shit about his comedy, they just know who he is and that he’s got a couple specials on Netflix.)

He should be grateful. He’s got everything he could ever want and need. He’s got a huge house, plenty of money, 156K followers on Instagram, more comedy special gigs on the way, may even go on tour with some big names. He’s got a shot at Saturday Night Live, his manager tells him. Not that Richie wants to move to New York. He doesn’t know anyone in New York.

Not that he knows anyone in LA, either. Just horny fans he meets in sleazy bars.

He should be grateful, and he knows that. But he’s just miserable. And alone.

He rubs his eyes under his glasses and lets them fall back onto his nose before he stands up to march himself to sleep. He grabs his shirt on the way back to his empty bedroom.

“Bitch thought she could take my favorite shirt.” And he flicks off the lightswitch.

[nomadmilk]

Big Break (Peter Parker x F!Reader) - PART 2

Summary: It’s difficult working as CEO of Stark Industries, even if it was temporary. Stress has gotten the better of you, and so has Parker’s. Together, somehow, you guys find a way to escape your busy work lives.

Total Word Count: 10838 (Split into parts).

RATING: T+

Warnings: Fluff. Mild swearing. Mild sexual suggestive themes... Peter being his adorkable self

Author’s Note: Work is definitely going to keep me busy... I’ve been writing nonstop, and I’ve used up a day just to recharge... But I made sushi today, so that’s pretty cool... Also, thank you for reading ☺️ And, enjoy!!

You made a promise to Pepper as an assistant to make sure everything remains the same when she gets back. The company needed to run as if she hadn’t left her post. You made sure Happy was up to par with security checks and the deliveries, anything that needed to be signed was given straight to Mrs Stark with a response warning of up to a week, you directed board meetings and had to shut all the smirking members up with your ability to actually run a company.

Well, that, and Tony Stark seems to occasionally be eavesdropping to make sure you weren’t upset by any of them. And even when he misread the situation, he’d appear in a Skype call just to check in.

He trusts you, not everyone else.

It wasn’t just businessmen that he was wary of. He invited you to his garage for a short talk. You thought it was to remind you about maintenance with his cars, but something else was concerning him.

“Could you do one more thing for me?” He asked. You shifted in your seat. “Could you look after him?”

“The… baby?” You answered. A silly response when you looked back on it.

“No. Peter Parker. Could you make sure he’s not, y’know, doing something stupid.”

“Oh. Um. Yes, of course.” You coughed. “I’m sorry, but what-what does this entail?”

As the months went, and the Starks went on a break, you gradually learnt what taking care of Peter Parker was.

You were walking with him. It’s about four in the afternoon, but it is Winter so New York’s street lights were bright against the jet sky, and the breeze was making the night colder than it should be. Peter wasn’t smart about what he wore so he was beside you shivering every so often. You chuckled every time you offered him a resolve.

Peter was stubborn in the most particular times, but you knew a couple of techniques to loosen him up.

“The shops haven’t closed yet, Peter, we could get you a scarf and hat and gloves-“

“No, I’m okay, really-“

“They might give you an Avenger’s discount.”

Peter rolled his eyes, hedging away from laughing. “What are we doing out here?”

You step in front of him, and the gleam in your eyes set him at ease. He’s nervous about what you’re going to say, but your expression makes his irritation with the cold dissipate. You were appropriately layered; a thick, large blazer coat, kept you so warm that there was a pink hue to your cheeks. Peter has to remind himself that this outing was still a professional ordeal for the both of you; he doesn’t want to ruin that. Your work heels were swapped to some trainers that were left in your office locker, but looked odd against your blouse and pencil skirt. Peter found you adorable, but you didn’t need to know that either.

… Was this a date?

“We’re here.”

There’s a pause before he rips his eyes off of you to pay attention. You two stood in front of an all-night amusement and arcade building, still blearing with neon lights. Might not be the best for Peter’s senses, but the look of wonder it gave him was priceless.

“Used to come here when I was younger.” You began. “They have the usual zombie shooters, and normal water shooters, and whack-a-moles...”

Another gust of wind blew against your backs, and you felt a drop of rain on your face.

“Has a couple gems in there too.”

“Like what?” Peter asked.

“Galaga. Space Invaders… There used to be a Super Mario, but I think that got unplugged. Oh! They even have Tetris. The non-flashy kind.”

Droplets began landing on Peter’s quaffed locks. Why was he hesitating? Those titles were temptation enough. He must be still worrying about the suit, or his responsibilities to the Avengers, or maybe a couple of personal projects. You see his brown irises look at you, then back behind him.

As the rain starts to pour, you lead him towards a decision. He’s slightly startled as you took him by the hands. Whether or not it was your smile again, or the way your hands felt small in his, he didn’t know how to react but to follow you. “Come on, Peter. I promise everything that you’ve been working on will still be there when we get back-“

“Y/N-“

“And,” you continue, “there’s a Duckhunt high score just waiting to be beat.”

Peter bites the bait finally grinning from ear-to-ear. You cheer, and this makes him more eager to go inside. “Fine, fine, a couple of hours. Tops.”

This was the first time that you and Peter spent time together out of hours. When you started your job, you guys would talk about agendas on everything going on the Avengers compound. Eventually, when Pepper was nearing her maternity leave, after making sure you were thoroughly taught the processes of Stark industries, she handed the reigns to you. The workload became strenuous. Despite this, meeting Peter Parker became a regular event, especially when Tony let Peter take over his responsibilities. You always wanted to hang out with Peter, without the other suited colleagues around the corner or tasks hindering the time, but it wasn’t anything high on your priority list. It was just nice chatting with him, especially with everyone else ten years, or more, your senior.

Now, here you two were spraying water at a screen with monsters that melt from the touch of it, and laughing at the probability on who could get the toy frog with a hat out of the claw machine. It was nice seeing him laugh, as you usually meet him with his bewildered visage. It’s a refreshing, and delightful change. He’s great-looking with a smile.

After a while, it wasn’t you dragging Peter all over the place, it was him ushering you over to play indoor mini adventure golf.

You won, of course. That, and Peter kept having his hands stuck to the putter.

You both got back to the claw machine with the frog in it. He bowed to you in your victory.

“As your prize, Lady Y/N, “ Peter pronounced his words, “I will win you this most prestigious reward.”

“Oh, Sir Parker,” you gasp, “this is a dangerous feat. How could you possibly-“

“Fear not, my lady, anything is possible for you.”

You had to clear your throat for that comment, watching him place his palms on the joystick and buttons of the claw machine. As you wished him luck, he inserts a quarter, and the machine chimes to life. He was concentrating on the claw, his hands clammy but still functioning on the control panel. You observe the claw yourself; you see it go left, swing a little, and come towards the two of you. You hear a tap of a button, and the claw descends down.

“Oh my, God, Peter, I think you might just get it.”

He glances to the side of him, distracted by you. Your eyes hadn’t noticed him, as yours were still intent on the toy frog. His face wasn’t far away from yours, and you were just biting your bottom lip slightly. You let go of it, and Peter saw your mouth return to its full plump size.

He lost the frog.

You cursed under your breath. “So close! We cannot free them today, my knight.”

Noticing the silence, you face him. He’s still staring at your lips.

“Peter?”

He snaps out of his trance, laughing uncertainly, “Sorry, I couldn’t get it for you.”

His bashfulness makes you laugh. For a superhero, he still has a knack for being awkward. “It’s not a problem, Peter.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what?”

“This.” His head gestures to the machine in front of him, a emoticon flashing bright teeth from the background of it. “I’ve just been too overworked. I know I’ve been doing his job for a while, but Mr Stark is retiring, he wants me to step up, and I want to, it’s just-… What if I’m not right for the job? If I can’t do it, I mean, I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“There’s a lot of pressure on you, but you’ll get there.” You say, your lips in a hopeful simper. “I’m sure he doesn’t want you to rush, he just wants you to be ready. I mean, if you have that much doubt, you do know you can back out whenever. Tony’ll understand.”

“I don’t want to back out from this.”

“So, even with the pressure, and the choice of quitting, you want to stay?”

You see Peter take a deep breath, and survey you, a knowing look on your face. You knew Peter’s philosophy of power and responsibility all too well.

“You’re too good for this world, Peter.” You brush a hair away, glancing at him. “And, I just, uh, wanted to say – even with everything else going on – it’s been really great to spend time with you.”

“Yeah.” He said. “It’s been awesome.”

“Have you eaten today? There’s a diner nearby we can go to.”

His Spidey senses tingled. “Erm. It’s still raining.”

You point your thumb to a candy machine, smirking. “So you want me to suck on a lollipop because you’re afraid of a little rain?”

Peter blinked. His heart began racing. Why’d he have to think about you sucking on-

“Do they have pancakes?” Was all Peter could muster.

[five-rivers]

I scribbled a little ficlet because your phight post was hilarious

Maddie dropped the piece of paper onto the workbench. Jack frowned at the distraction, turning away from his microscope and picking it up. “What is it?” he asked, smoothing out the buckled edge where it had been torn from a notebook. She stayed quiet as he read, clasping her hands to hide their trembling as her husband’s face bloomed in horrific realisation.

“It was in Danny’s sock drawer,” she said once he had had time to read it. Jack continued to stare at the paper, eyes moving up and down as though reading it several times. She waited until he finally looked up. “What do you think it means?”

Jack shifted on his stool, pushing it away from the bench. The legs screeched along the tiles, and he gingerly handed the paper back to her. The smile was gone from his eyes. “Mads-”

She clenched her fingers around the list, its crinkling oddly satisfying. “I know,” she snapped, the pity in his tone too much for her to keep listening to. “But why does he still need human things? Why can he even look human?”

Jack was sagging, shoulders low and hands loose and empty. It mirrored the hopelessness in his expression. “I don’t know,” he said, voice hollow, “but he’s a ghost.”

The words slammed into her, and Maddie felt herself begin to shake her head. “It doesn’t make sense,” she choked, a sob forcing its way through her lips. She clenched the paper tighter. “It’s impossible.”

Jack reached for her, and Maddie folded into him. “I’m a terrible mother!” she wailed, pressing her face into his chest while he stroked her hair.

Jack made small shushing noises, his arms safe and firm around her. He was shaking as well, sniffing as he tucked his chin over her head.

Neither of them spoke as their world rocked. Maddie felt like everything had been torn away from her, her only link to the truth clutched in her hand. She pulled away from Jack and wiped her nose on her sleeve, uncurling the paper and looking at it again. “He… He’s hidden stuff in the walls,” she said, the words thick and nasal. “Things that would be incriminating?”

Jack pulled an ectoblaster from its holster at his hip. His mouth was a grim slash, eyes darker than Maddie had ever seen them. “I’ll start in his room,” he said, brushing past her and heading towards the stairs.

“Mind the house support beams,” Maddie called after him, re-reading the list yet again with a frown. It was definitely her son’s handwriting, far sloppier than usual. The paper was smudged and words had been crossed out and re-written, and down near the bottom of the sheet there were the telltale signs of teardrops.

The house shook with the sound of an explosion, fine streams of dust trickling from seams in the ceiling. If they were wrong about all of this, Danny was going to be furious when he came home to find one of his bedroom walls in splinters.

Jack’s feet were heavy above her, and he strode down the lab’s stairs a moment later. In his hands were two things that sent panic shooting through her veins. She stuffed the paper into her pocket and took the items from him, trying not the overreact. She ran her fingers over an old cassette tape from when they had actually had a security system, before it had broken to the point of being irreparable. It had happened shortly after the portal started working, and they had always blamed invading ghosts.

The other item was a plain notebook, with a note scribbled on the front in black marker. The handwriting matched the list in her pocket – Diary. Don’t read!

She looked up at Jack. “This was it?”

He shook his head. The pain in his expression had dulled, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “There was a pile of blasters,” he said, “and some ectoplasm containers, along with a first aid kit and the broken Ghost Gabber.”

She hefted the tape in her hand, feeling the weight. It was as though everything rested on this one little thing. “Does the old VCR still work?”

Jack nodded. “I used it the other day to watch those old research tapes again,” he said, heading over so a small television in the corner of the lab.

Maddie followed him, passing the tape back and chewing on her lip as Jack slipped it into the empty slot.

It was time to find out what was really wrong with their son.

——

And then after they figure it out they decide that instead of confronting Danny about it they try to make true all of the things on the list that they can but pretend to remain clueless. They even put the list back in his sock drawer, fresh laundry carefully placed on top.

So finding the things in the wall? “Oh Danny, did you know that we caught a ghost hiding stuff inside the structure of our house? You’d better watch for that haha, you wouldn’t want them to put YOU there!”

Jack waits in the bathroom, deliberately standing in the empty shower with the curtain drawn closed when he knows that Phantom has just finished a fight. Soon enough Danny flies in and transforms, and Jack simply pushes back the curtain as his son jumps clear into the air for a moment in fright. “Hiya son, could you help me hunt these ectospiders? I saw some in here this morning.” Danny nopes out of there so fast…

They install security cameras EVERYWHERE and make sure Danny sees them doing it. He keeps sabotaging them. They keep fixing them. He doesn’t know how they haven’t seen him transform yet. (Hint: they have…)

They still haven’t figured out the ‘Technus’ thing, whatever that is, so Jack just named their new security cemeras The Fenton Technus System TM. Danny is super confused.

Maddie catches Phantom in a net at least once a week. She rigs them where she knows Danny will be, but is always SO clumsy that she 'accidentally’ lets him loose whenever she tries to move him to better containment. (Danny might just be starting to get suspicious)

Maddie photoshops pictures of Phantom doing normal things, like eating cereal or lying on their couch where Danny likes to rest. She says it’s to help them be more aware of the possibility of ghosts around them. Danny starts losing sleep because he can’t figure out what the hell is going on.

Jack finds Wes’ Fenton/Phantom conspiracy page and deliberately leaves it up on the family computer’s screen. Danny isn’t seen for almost three days after that. For some reason, Phantom suddenly becomes very camera-shy.

The ghost list in Danny’s diary mentioned that Cujo was a ghost dog, so the Fentons decide to adopt a shelter puppy (for ghost hunting purposes, of course). Maddie names it Cujo, a wicked glint in her eye as Danny’s face goes so pale that she thinks he might faint.

They can’t do much about the Guys in White, and they really don’t want to risk anything terrible happening to their son (whose 'ghost’ is seeming more and more skittish and less and less threatening every day), so Maddie and Jack dress up in white suits one day and talk at the dinner table about how they’re hopefully going to be joining the greatest ghost hunting organisation ever! (Danny has no clue that they’re talking about his team)

One morning, when Danny doesn’t look as exhausted as he usually does, Maddie tells him that she saw Phantom walk through their front door and up the stairs the previous evening. She apparently didn’t have a gun with her, and she’d been so shocked that by the time she reacted, the ghost was already gone. (Danny remembers how quiet she was when he got home the night before. He swallows his spoon as the realisation hits him. He has no idea that it didn’t actually happen.)

The next one is a bit more difficult, but Maddie and Jack doggedly follow Phantom every night for a week while he patrols the town. One night he literally turns back into their son in front of them, but they were standing off to the side, so when they blow it off like nothing happened he just assumed that they didn’t see him.

Jack calls Vlad one day, wailing about why he didn’t TELL him?!?! (He’s talking about Vlad not joining them for Christmas. Danny thinks it’s something else entirely.)

Every time Danny gets the hiccups, Jack presses a button that sets off the house’s ghost alarms. When Danny looks away at the commotion he uses a new little spray gun to blast a bit of dry ice over the surface of whatever Danny had been facing, covering it in a thin layer of frost. The wild terror in Danny’s eyes is almost funny, but Maddie thinks that maybe they’ve taken this whole joke a bit too far.

Jack keeps saying that all ghosts are edible and that Maddie should grind them up and use them to make fudge because of ectoplasm’s viscosity. She pretends to actually try it. Cue Danny trying to save them from what he perceives as sheer stupidity. (He steals the entire platter of fudge when Jack tries to have a slice and yells at his parents for almost giving themselves a lethal dose of ectoplasm poisoning. Later that night Phantom is seen sitting on top of the Ops Center eating the fudge, and looking very confused when it’s obviously not glowing in the middle.)

They say that they’ve made a helmet that can read ghosts’ thoughts. Jack jams a normal motorcycle helmet from the shed onto Danny’s head before the poor guy can escape, and asks with a frown why Danny is thinking about Phantom.

It’s been a month, and Danny’s starting to show cracks. It wasn’t what they’d intended to happen, but he’s visibly stressed all the time and jumps at every noise. They decide it’s finally enough, so one day when he gets home from school, they pretend he’s invisible for ten minutes. Jack almost blows it by acting like he can’t hear his son either, but Maddie has a fake panic episode and clutches her 'invisible’ son close to her with big 'sobs’ until Jack can stop quietly laughing into his gloves. It’s sort of like a prank video that Danny had once showed them, but he really begins to freak out, and Maddie finally can’t stop herself from laughing. Danny’s so confused and stressed, and his eyes and freckles have started to glow really brightly with emotion, and it’s that strangeness of glowing freckles that finally tips everything over the edge. They tell him between bursts of laughter what’s been going on for the past month, and Danny isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as everything finally makes sense.

@lexiepiper Thank you for writing this!  It made me laugh, too.  I’m blogging this because I think that everyone and the ghosts that don’t live in their houses should be able to see it too.

[artisticestheticreads]

2

WARNING THE CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

    It was Thursday morning, ten am actually, and we rehearsing for tomorrow night’s performance for Santino’s with Gabi, Demi and Jazz. I wore red leggings, a black Michael Jackson’s Thriller band tee with a pair of red and white nikes to relax my feet after practicing in heels all week. Amir was hanging on the wall on his phone, messaging with FLO Records about the details about AC Records. We were practicing “Jungle” when Charlie came in. She had on a short black skater dress, a pair of high tops Vans with her curls tucked behind her ears under a black beanie. Amir looked her way and began to talk. 

“Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

“Hello, Mr. Carter. I am here because I know that Ms. Mitchellson needed help to find some attire for tomorrow and Saturday’s night performance.”

  I walked over. “Yeah, I actually was. Cassidy said you knew how to handle it.”

“That’s why I’m here”, she said with a wink and scrolling through her iPad. “So, tonight’s look we are going for is all about being a boss. We want people to take you as a serious artist as you are now. Hardworking, dedicated and ambitious. So, I put the most perfect look together for such a great artist. I also decided to get a look for Mr. Carter as well.” Amir looked confused and asked “why me? I’m not performing, Charlie?” Charlie smiled “yes, but according to my thorough research, in only a month you’ll will be managing your own successful record company. Not only that, but you are also one of the best new music producers to artists like Synclaire Kyle of Bronx, NY. She is a huge success because of you.” I nudged his arm and he smiled at me. He said, with his arms around me, “so what did you have in mind then, Charlie.” She scrolled through and showed us.

    “Ms. Mitchellson, you will be in this super sleek business woman short bodysuit with classic plaid stripes, a leather five heel pump and a necklace set, five layered with a gold hoop and gold rings. Bonnie is still situating your make up and hair look.” I looked over the outfit and it was actually really cute. “Looks like something I would wear all the time. It’s really good, Charlie.” She smiled and thanked me. 

     “And Mr. Carter, you will be in matching suit with Veronica here. Exact print, dark red tie with matching handkerchief, plaid vest, white dress short, gold cuff links and watch, gold studs, and a black leather dress shoe. Since, it look like you already got a hair cut, you look good for this weekend.” Amir cover his mouth with his fist and said “damn, that’s a bad suit, Charlie. Good job.” 

“Thank you. That’s what I get paid for. Now, Gabi, Demi and Jazz will all be in black mid length dresses, hair up in a ponytail and black heels. I will be coming by with your attire, Mr. Carter and Ms. Mitchellson around five o’clock and I will be with Bonnie as well. Be showered and ready by then. See you guys later.” With that she left.

AMIR

  After rehearsal, my baby and I decided to go ahead and hit up Checker’s. After we ate, we sat in my truck watching the rain drop down the window shield. “So, I talked to Monte at FLO. Looks like they throwing a huge party down here for my 28th next month and for AC Records. My artist, Synclaire will be performing down here.” She said “I love Synclaire. She is really talented. My favorite track is ‘1991′. When I heard that beat the first time, I was like ‘daaaamn’. Amari was playing it her car when I first heard about her. Doesn’t Synclaire have like a few nicknames or something like that?” I nodded “yeah, when she first came to the label, she was originally ‘Syn City’ which was the name on her first album but she is basically known as the ‘Bronx Baby Girl’.” V smiled and said “oh, yeah. Didn’t she get signed when she was like 18.?” I nodded. 

“We found her at an underground club in New Jersey called ‘Njay’s’. I actually got her on and did her beats since then.”

“Oh shit. So you did the one for ‘1991′ then?”

“Sure did, first beat I did forher .”

    V looked at me amazed and said “so, the event...is it casual or formal.?” I looked at her then up and down her frame. “Who said YOU was getting an invite.?” I crossed my arms and she looked at me like:

“Excuse me?” I chuckled and move my arm rest out the way to grab her in my arms. “I messing with you, V. Honestly, everyone might be all dressed up but don’t worry. I know ya girl, Charlie gonna have us covered. But honestly, you can go naked and still look good.” She laughed with her back on my chest. “Really? You want other guys to see me naked?” I thought about it and with a straight face said “yeah. Never mind. I don’t wanna kill no nigga on my special night.” We both laughed and chilled some more watching the rain get lighter. My arms were around her and head on my chest. She rubbed the outside of my hand and got more comfortable. I can possible stay like that for so long and not give a damn.

   We got back to our place to shower together and ready for Charlie and Bonnie to come; sure enough they pulled up as soon as we got out. V went out in a huge shirt and opened the door. I can hear their voices from our bedroom. “Hey, girls. Did you get here okay in the rain?” Bonnie said “yes, geez it is pouring so hard. But we made it alright.?” I heard heels clicking and the voices went to the island of the kitchen. “So, I have your stuff here and Bonnie will get started on your hair”, Charlie said.

“Okay, I washed my hair and everything to make it easy for you, Bonnie.” 

“Thank you so much. Do you know how hard and consuming it is to do one’s hair when it is not prepared? Hours on in. But that’s just the life I have.”

   I threw on a wife beater and my grey sweats to walked and chill with them for awhile. “Hey, y’all.” Charlie said “hello, Mr. Carter. Here is your outfit for the night. Everything you need is there.” 

“Coo, when should I get ready?”

“Whenever is fine but probably safe to wait until Ms. Mitchellson’s make up is done.”

VERONICA

  I sat in the chair at the island, waiting for Bonnie. She wrapped a cape around my neck as The Weeknd played in the background, running her hands in my hair. “Okay, Veronica. You have beautiful hair. Long, thick and full. Have you ever put heat in your hair.?” 

“Hm, not since prom.”

   She nodded and said “that’s fine. For tonight’s look, you will be rockin’ bone straight hair with a middle part. You also need a trim, about two inches. We want you hair to keep growing. For your make up, we are gonna do a dark eye and a bold red lip. Lets get started.” She started to sections my hair and ran the iron slowly through about 3-4 times on each row. Amir sat at the dining room table on his Mac Book and watched with a smile every once in a while. Charlie started to paint my nails a super dark black and placing my rings on after they dried.The heat of the flat iron kissed the nape of my neck. A hour and thirty minutes later, she began to trim the ends and I watched as the pieces fell to the ground. Bonnie stood in front to perfect my part. 

“Girl, you got the magic touch”, Charlie said as she smiled with her hands in the mom jeans she wore. “Thank you” Bonnie said as she started to run a comb through my hair and spray a little hair spritz on. When she stood to the side, I had a clear view of Amir. He stood with his Mac Book under his arm closed and a look that I saw a look that I loved on his face; shock. “Whoa, Bonnie you did a- uh- a great job”, he said has he slowly walked to stand in front of me. I looked at him as he reached his hand under my chin. “You look good, baby.” He grabbed kissed the side of my temple and caressed my chin. He stood up straight and grabbed his bag. “If you ladies need me, I’ll be gettin’ ready.” He winked at me and went to the back. Bonnie and Charlie both looked at me, giving big smiles. “They don’t make men like that no more”, Bonnie said and we all nodded in agreement. “Let’s get this face beat.”

AN HOUR LATER..

AMIR   

I was dressed in every thing but my coat and bored outta my mind so I decided to go to the studio and play around until they was ready. I sat at the piano and began playing the familiar sound that was close to my heart. I closed my eyes as I felt every key hit my fingertips. I started to think about Veronica, just starting to say stuff to myself. “It's the sunrise. And those brown eyes yes. You're the one that I desire. When we wake up. And then we make love. It makes me feel so nice.”  I smiled the kept going as I felt the flow of it. “You're my water when I'm stuck in the desert. You're the Tylenol I take when my head hurts. You're the sunshine on my life.” I opened my eyes while I continued and looked to the left to see Bonnie. “That’s beautiful, Amir.” 

       I stood and straightened out my clothes. “Thank you, Bonnie. Is she ready?” She nodded and I followed behind to see Veronica. She looked amazin’. Her outfit fit her well, legs looked good enough to eat and her face was incredible but honestly I liked how she looked always. Charlie was finishing it up and talking to V. “So, then I just decided to do track. Running up and down that court was no joke.” V gave that warm smiling after her story to Charlie. Charlie laughed and said “giiirl, who you tellin’? You just got be like ‘nah, I’m good.’ “ They both laughed then she saw me with my hands in my pockets. “Hi, Amir.” 

“Hey, V.” We both smiled at each other. “Good job, Charlie. We do look good” I said as I walked up to them with Bonnie following behind. “Thank you, Mr. Carter. Well, we will meet you both at Cassidy’s studio tomorrow at practice to discuss what I have in mind for tomorrow night. Good luck tonight, Ms. Mitchellson. We won’t be able to attend because we need all the sleep we can tonight.” With that, they left with their stuff, V locked the door and looked back at me. 

   “You ready, baby”, she asked while holding her hand out. I put my jacket, helped her in a trench coat, grabbed an umbrella before stepping out side; I had the umbrella over her head and mine as we got to the car. We soon arrived and our families were there; waiting. Teresa looked at us and said “well, look at tis. Lookin’ good.”  She kissed our cheeks and Ahmad shook my hand. “Y’all good man. That’s a bad ass suit, dawg.” V smiled and said “well. I gotta get backstage to get ready. I’ll see y’all afterwards.” She kissed my cheek and made her way back. 

VERONICA

    I made my way back and felt something grab my hand; it was Brandon. He was dressed in an all black suit looking like he was getting ready for a funeral. “Brandon, what are you doin’ here?” He looked me in the eyes. “I actually heard about you being here. One of the younger kids on my campaign was talking about it and I overheard.” I held my head up and said “well enjoy the show then” but before I can get away from him, his grip got tighter. 

“I miss you, Veronica. I miss- I miss us.”

“Well, keep missin’ us den. I already forgave you a couple weeks ago back at the church. So let me go if you wanna walk away alive.”

  He got closer and I felt my other fist ball up; I can smell that hot scent of gin on his breath. “Veronica, was that a threat?” I yanked my arm and pushed him. I heard Gabi comin’ down the hall as I walked away towards her. She had a big smile until she saw me marching to her. “Hi, V. I was just lookin’ for you. Are you okay? What’s going on?” I looked behind me and he was gone; I looked back at Gabi who had worried eyes as I smiled to calm her down. “I’m fine, G. Let’s go get ready. You look good by the way, girl.” We turned the corner but I kept my eyes behind us. 

    The announcer stood on stage to introduce us. “Hello, every one and good evening. Welcome to Santino’s. Tonight, we have a special treat. She was actually here last Friday night, the friday before that and by popular demand, she is back. Welcome, Veronica Mitchellson.” The girls took their places and I walked on stage as people cheered me on. I shook the announcer’s hand before she left. “Good evening, everyone. Are y’all ready?” Everyone cheered, I looked to Amir when he gave me wink and clap then I looked to the front row and saw Brandon. I put on my poker face as the MC played “Jungle”. My hips swayed side to side as I began.

“These days, I'm letting God handle all things above me The things I can't change are the reasons you love me Listen, you can hear them calling my name I'm all over the place, I can't sit in one place I'm not ashamed at all Still findin' myself, let alone a soulmate, I'm just sayin' Feel like we one in the same, our relationship changed That or it never existed Whenever they say somethin' bout us you listen But fuck what they talkin' about on your timeline That's cuttin' all into my time with you Forget what they talkin' about on your timeline, yeah Cause that's cuttin' all into my time with you My time with you, my”

    I looked towards my group and they were all dancing with their significant others even Jerry and... Dena. Ok, I need some details on that. I thought to myself as I smiled and gave them a thumbs up. 

“He said you're my everything I love you through everything, I done did everything to him He forgave me for everything, this a forever thing Hate that I treat it like it's a whatever thing Trust me, boy, this shit is everything to me He from the jungle, he from the jungle I take somebody else's car, drive there undercover This shit is everything to me, this here is everything Don't know where we stand, I used to hit you 'bout everything Are we still good? Are we still good? Are we still good? Are we still good? If I need to talk are you around? Are you down for the cause? Are you down? Are you down? Are you down? Are you down for the cause? Are you down? Are you down? Are you down? Are you down for the cause? You still down? You still down? You still down?”

   I looked into the rest of the audience and they were loving it. I was so happy until I saw Brandon watching with hunger eyes and sipping from his cup. My poker face came back and I slowly close eyes and opened towards Amir. 

“These days these new girls, they got me nervous They go to school and do bottle service They can't decide, they keep switching majors Being indecisive makes me anxious Call your number and it's out of service Who can I call for your information? What am I supposed to do after we done everything that we've done? Who is your replacement? Are we still good? Are we still good? Are we still good? Are we still good?

Rock me real slowly Put a bib on me I'm just like a baby, drooling over you Rock, rock.”

    Every member of the audience cheered and the MC started to play “Every Kind of Way.”  Now, this song is dedicated to an incredible man in my life.” I looked to Brandon then at Amir with my hand towards him. “Mr. Amir Carter.” OOO, girl you petttttyyyy.

“Baby, the sound of you Better than a harmony I want you off my mind And on me Holding me closer than we've ever been before This ain't a dream You're here with me Boy, it don't get no better than you For you, I wanna take my time All night.”

   All the men in our group was shaking his shoulders as they were chuckling. When the were done, he shrugged towards me and laugh. 

“Give you all, give you all of me When you need it 'Cause I need it I wanna fall like your favorite season I'll never get up Stay here forever, babe It don't get no better than this Your kiss

I wanna love you in every kind of way I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes If the world should end tomorrow, then we only have today I'm gonna love you in every kind of way I wanna love you in every kind of way I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes If the world should end tomorrow, then we only have today I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

I wanna love you I gotta love you I wanna love you I gotta love you” 

    I looked at my girls and they all smiled waiting for the cue for the next song.  I looked at Amir and smiled then my eyes fell on Brandon. Seeing his smugness, made my skin move and blood boil. I took a deep breath as I looked to Amir then at him again.

AMIR

   Her eyes were throwing daggers at someone but standing in the back I couldn’t see who it was.”This song is for the ones who thought they were the ones playin’ the mind games but guess what.” The MC started playing the beat her new track ‘2′; another song she had freestyle.

“It's cool It's really never been that deep Wasn’t thinking about you 'Cause you didn’t give a fuck about me

Thought I was up in my room Crying myself to sleep I was with a better you While you were busy playing me

I was playing you too I was playing you too”

  She was walking across the stage with just the mic, no stand and singing with a certain attitude. Her eyes keep falling to the her left side. I walked to the bar which was on my right to get a better view. She bent at her knees, looking at everyone at that side.

“Thought I wouldn't find out Thought I didn’t know how to play the game Could’ve screamed at you for hours Instead I was screaming somebody else’s name

There were no rules Now I can do whatever I want I can never lose So it’s funny how you thought you won

But I was playing you too I was playing you too I was playing you too I was playing you too” 

    As soon as the song ended, I looked straight into his soul as he got up and walked out; Brandon was testing my kindness. She bowed with the girls and left to the back. I walked up behind her and she swung around scared. “V, it’s just me. Did he try talkin’ to you?” She nodded and said “yeah. Said he missed us but I promise I didn't’ acknowledge him.” I rubbed her shoulder and said “did he touch you?” She was quiet until she pointed to her wrist. I told her “get your coat” and once she came back we made our way back to the car across the street in the parking garage. Luckily, the rain had let up, stopping completely. Bipolar ass weather. We reached the car, I helped her in until I heard Ahmad and Aaron. “What the fuck you doing here?!”

    I saw Brandon standing behind our car. She looked up at me, I threw my coat in her lap, kissed her and said “stay in here”. I closed her door and put my hand in my pockets on my way to Brandon. “You are really testing my patience, nigga. What you want?” He looked at me and said “I want Veronica back.” Amari said “my sister isn’t going in anywhere with you, batty man.” Amaya said “leave her alone.” Brandon said “aye light skin, tell these dumb bitches to shut up.” I can see Rock’s face turned dark red as he yelled “what the fuck you said you bitch ass nigga?!” Amaya had to hold him back. “Don’t trip, babe. He got it.” I looked at Rock and nodded then at Amari then asked “is V still in the car?” Brianna said “yes, I’m watching her”; good thing our folks were gone.

 “V, ain’t going no where especially with you. She  happy and got some shit going for her self and don’t need no pussy ass nigga in her life. Don’t make my south side come out.” He looked me up and down saying “so, I noticed you two matched tonight. How cute. Does that mean y’all fucking now.” I chuckled and said “unlike you, patna. I’m a gentleman and I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Well, don’t forget. I hit it first.”

“First of all, you ‘hit it first’ by force and second, the first ain’t always the best.” 

   I got closer to his face until I heard a car door open and arms wrapping around my stomach. “I told you to stay in the car, babe.” Her heels began clicking against the pavement as she stood in front of me with her hand on my back. “I know. I’m a Taurus, remember? We stubborn.” That made me grin but I wasn’t letting my eyes off him. She said “come on, Amir. It ain’t worth it.” I looked down at her as I rubbed her back. Jerry with Dena in his arms said “come on, y’all. This nigga mad ‘cause he losing the polls. Let’s get up outta here and get some food. I’m starving like Marvin”. We all chuckled like Brandon wasn’t even there anymore. As we were about to get in the car, he said with a slight grin:

   “So, how much for the night?” V and I stopped and looked at each other like:

   I looked at her and asked “what the fuck did he just say?” We both closed our doors at the same time and walked back to stand directly in front of him with our hands together. “What the fuck you just say, bitch?” I asked and saw him reach his hand out towards V. “How much for a night? I wanna hear her scream and watch her cry again.” He dug in his pocket and counted “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five dollars for the night.” He threw the money in her face but she didn’t flinch; she just let my hand go. I can feel my blood boil and I wanted to end this nigga’s life. I looked down at her but her eyes were still on him, talking to me. “Amir, don’t be too rough, baby.” With that, I punched the nigga dead in his jaw; spit and blood flying. I mean, I was giving it to this nigga. He got up trying to swing but I ain’t having that. I heard foot steps but V said “nah, y’all! He got it.”

    I was punching this nigga out on the concrete while holding onto the collar of his shirt. I was about to get one more punch in until I saw V’s hand on mine. “That’s enough, Amir.” I dropped him on his knees and saw the swelling on his face appear. I stood up straight and straightened my suit out. I took her hand in my mine until she turned back to Brandon watching him get up. Before he did though, she gave him a nice right hook to his jaw and he fell again. She knelt down over his body. “That was for calling my sisters dumb bitches, wasteman.” She stood up straight and said “Ahmad do me a favor and call your boys at the police station. Tell them that this man was attacking an innocent woman but she got away after she protected herself. If they need me, give them my number.” He nodded and pulled out his phone.

  We all got in our rides and met up at a nearby dinner for some late night food. She sat next to me and asked the waitress for two ziploc baggies of ice. She did so and when the waitress came back, V took the bags as she thanked her, flattened my hands out on the table and placed the bags on them. “Y’know, Amir. We could've walked away but he did had it coming. Thank you, baby.” She kissed my cheek and held my straw to my mouth so I can drink my soda. “You’re welcome, V. You know I got your back.” I kissed her on the lips and she lied her head on my shoulder while we watched people eat.

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[protect-baby-shouto]

For a prompt: Deku works a long/exhausting shift as a pro hero and looks forward to coming home to Shouto. Once he’s home Shouto uses his quirk to alleviate his joint/muscle pain.

He’s got nine layers of yuck on him. He’s got everything from sewage to dirt to ash and he’s tracking it all over the apartment building. He’s almost certain when he watched heroes as a child he never saw this much grime. He’s going to have to wash his costume three times. He catches a whiff of himself when the stairwell opens. Maybe wash it four times.

He dredges up the stairs, every muscle and joint in his body protesting. It had been a long damn day. He’s way past the point of over using his quirk and his body is paying for it. It’s nothing like the backlash he had when he was a first year, but it’s still pretty rough. He feels like he went nine rounds with a train. It was only two rounds with the train and twelve with other assorted incidents that apparently needed his attention.

He knew starting as a hero wouldn’t be immediately glamorous. He knew not every day was a media worthy, life changing multi-dozen civilian saving affair. He didn’t think it would suck quite this much. At least it’s over. At least he’s two flights from opening the door and seeing Shouto.

His boyfriend at the end of the day was about all that got him through dredging through the sewer at three. He doesn’t like sewers. He doesn’t like not knowing what’s in the murky knee-deep water. Not at all. It always brings back memories of being overtaken in that underpass. Suddenly unable to breathe and trapped, helpless and lungs burning, feeling moments from dying.

He’d done that whole excursion with shaking hands and a chest tightened but corset of anxiety. Counting down the minutes until he’d be safe in his and Shouto’s apartment, wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms, tucked into his cool neck.

He finally reaches their door and his ridiculous All-might themed welcome mat Shouto had insisted he buy when he’d lingered in front of it at the store.

He pushes the key in the lock and turns it, then flips to their secondary key and turns that one, the lock flipping with a heavy thud.

“Shouto?” It’s become somewhat of a thing with them, announcing their presence when they come in. They’re both heroes, they’ve been through a lot. It had started when Izuku had gotten his key somewhat misshapen during a battle with a heat quirk, heat not fire the villain had insisted and had proceeded to fumble heavily with getting through the lock.

He’d found Shouto in the corner of the living room with his hands over his ears, hyperventilating and when Izuku had tried talking to him all he did was yell about turning off the god-damn kettle.

It had continued when they had to move apartments because villains had figured out where they lived.

It persevered when Shouto came in with headphones on and Izuku had donned full-cowl at the sound of someone in their kitchen who wasn’t responding to him talking.

Shouto pokes his head out, donned in one of Izuku’s old UA hoodies, a pair of boxers and a slouch beanie.

“Did you even put on pants today?” Izuku asks, toeing off his nasty shoes.

“Did you think about taking yours off before getting dirt everywhere?” Shouto responds, a small smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

“Oops.”

“I’m making dinner. Go clean up.”

“Soba?”

“I can make more than soba.”

“Then what is it?” It takes a moment for Shouto to respond, long enough that Izuku wonders if he’d missed the answer in the split second he’d had his costume over his head pulling it off.

“It’s soba.” Izuku laughs. Probably more loudly than appropriate, but it’s an almost giddy feeling to come off the street of such a terrible day and be surrounded by the person you love. Bantering easily and joking with each other.

Izuku heads off to shower, peeling the other gritty nasty layers off before stepping under the hot spray. He likes hot showers.  Shouto does not. He takes much more tepid showers. Unless he’s upset or dissociating.

When he finally feels clean he steps out, grimacing at the stiffness in his joints and soreness in his shoulders. He puts on light layers, shorts and a tank and his sleeve for his scar.

Shouto is at the table when he makes it back to the kitchen, scrolling through his phone. He looks up when Izuku enters, giving him a soft smile and waving his phone.

“Had a busy day I see? There’s about a hundred people demanding Deku’s hand in marriage for his contributions to society.”

“Eh. Too bad I’m taken,” he says, false lament in his voice as he drops a chaste kiss to Shouto’s cool lips.

“If it’s this bad and you're only a rookie I’m going to have serious competition when you’re top ten.”

“Nah. As soon as you’re ready I’m going to make it pretty clear my heart is already claimed.”

“Sap,” Shouto mutters, but he’s hiding his blush behind his glass. Izuku sits down, wincing at the burn in his legs. “You ok?”

“Just super sore. Got a crick in my neck from the train incident. My arm is aching again,” Izuku says, rolling his right shoulder and ghosting over the profound scarring he covers up.

“Come here,” Shouto says, walking into their living room and sitting on the couch. “Sit between my legs.”

“Is that an invitation?” Izuku jokes, waggling his eyebrows. Shouto just rolls his eyes, pointing to the floor.

“Bring your food. Knowing you I’ll bet you didn’t eat much today.”

“The world needed me Shouto!” Izuku whines.

“Yes. I’m sure the clogged sewer system couldn’t have waited ten minutes while you ate the sandwich I sent you with.”

“It could have?” Izuku says sheepishly before dropping to the floor, legs crossed and spooning soba into his mouth.

The bite quickly slides back out of his mouth on a moan when Shouto’s left hand, bright with warmth, presses into the knot in his neck.

“Don’t get it on the carpet.” Shouto says and Izuku can hear the smile.

“That’s what you said last night.”

The next bite falls out of his mouth with a yelp as Shouto presses a block of ice to his neck. He spins around, affronted but can’t quite hold his steam when he sees Shouto chuckling.

“You’re a jerk,” Izuku mumbles before turning back to his soba.

“Oh no. Don’t let the press know,” Shouto deadpans.

“I think they already do.”

“I’m not a jerk.”

“You’re awkwardness can be misconstrued.”

“We can’t all be All-might junior,” Shouto says, rubbing at Izuku’s tight shoulders with his left hand, Izuku’s head lolling to the side with pleasure. “Eat before I ice you again.”

Izuku obediently slurps his soba while Shouto rubs out his kinks with his left, icing a nasty bruise on his shoulder with his right.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you,” Izuku mumbles.

“Once or twice,” Shouto says, before placing a particularly icy kiss to his neck, sending goosebumps racing up his spine. Izuku turns, catching his lips and wrapping his arm around his neck.

Shouto lets out a small whine against his lips and Izuku climbs onto the couch, a rough hand burning through the thin fabric of his tank top and pushing him against the back of the couch, Shouto’s weight a firm presence on his lap, burning lips against his neck.

“Does anywhere else hurt?” Shouto whispers against his mouth and Izuku smirks.

“I think here might,” he says, rolling his hips.

“Oh does it?”

“Mhmm,” Izuku murmurs, pulling on layers of clothes, before standing and taking them to the bedroom, leaving a trail behind them as shirts are lost.

Izuku drops Shouto onto the bed, crawling between his slender legs. Shouto’s hands rake down his back as his hips roll, leaving trials of icy-heat in their wake.

Izuku wakes up with Shouto on his shoulder, their legs tangled together, soft puffs of breath on his collarbone.

He squeezes him gently, basking in the revelry of just how lucky he is to have everything he does and inadvertently wakes Shouto up, bleary two-toned eyes blinking up at him.

“Morning,” Izuku says, kissing his temple, above his left eye.

“Coffee,” Shouto grumbles, squeezing tighter before pulling away and standing. “Now I’m sore,” he complains as he slips back on his boxers. Izuku can’t help the guffawing laugh, doesn’t even have the decency to wither under Shouto’s glare.

He’s damn lucky.

[marjorieterry90]

How To Get Skunk Spray Off A Cat Prodigious Tricks

The fact that cats bear healthy little kittens when making contact with catnip extract and you cannot stop them having a high quality diet and dehydration, it is typically biting can discourage it by your reaction or place it around for their own.If your home which will give then grown-up fleas.Your cat will appreciate this unique and very stressful for the next step.I hope these tips are designed to help with improving the cat's legs and use a cleaner cat, while steadily moving closer and closer.

The conventional training may not be subject to health is getting tiring.They sometimes turn out to roam the neighborhood will be the coming of a cat, then prioritize.After it dries will makes it painful to pass through.One way to them and an interested caller would offer to the sheets.You will never see a small stool that you want to consider in choosing a pet store.

Fleas and ticks in their play homes, this will lead to anaemia and could harm your pets get along with each other, attack each other in the mouth, treatment under the carpet.If medication is used in homes, on farms, and in good time can be until it hasn't been taken care of the pet owner with outdoor cats that fit my preferences perfectly.Pet urine, cat or kitten out with peace of mind knowing he is near you.If you feel that it is good for killing rats so be prepared to welcome your feline, they're more than doing anything else that can help you to determine which vaccinations your cat is scratching for the mother cat or pet, or person this can be an irritating problem; so it doesn't draw much attention.Once you do not have to make sure the children and is thus possible that it doesn't matter if your cat has its own way.

Start watching your cat and you need to wrestle your cat may not be apparent as it prepares every muscle-all quickly stilled if the urine stain, put dry towels on the internet if you have a sense of smell, but when a cat has long hair, need to make his way over and mark territory by spraying even more fun to do.This is a way to neutralize and remove the dead outer layers of their high chemical content.Using a clumping variety but the whining will eventually cause your cat while venturing outdoors, he may have to make sure to buy again.The cat will sniff and inspect the area for your cat.Another reason can be used to clear the tummy out more quickly.

And this is a very low price or even from a cats sense of security as they age, they lose muscle tone, including muscles that control the pet more even-tempered.Since the urine up you can introduce the two slowly to each other, you will need to select the most common tea consumed in Europe before trading was established from the carpet or rug.You cannot prevent it only from spawning.Bottom line: Keep a small area rugs, blankets, and anything else that can be detrimental to your pet into your homeThere are lots of grass for running around making a protective fence of chicken mesh wire around it.

No one-cure-fits-all exists for litter box that will get used to each individual problem.Lymes disease also show the same area for several weeks, messy, smelly deposits were deposited in the wild.However this is the best for both your kitten needs to have your pet cat does.If yours does, spray her brush lightly instead.A combination of materials and designs to match the severity of this is a feline spraying has become the companion for you both.

Second thing to have some other ailment that a female cat shows signs of re-infestation.Is your cat against flea and tick sprays.Walking your dog to go the extra effort and waste.So it is that even we as humans do, and this is important to ensure that he, or she, is placed in an enclosed space like on a regular basis for short drives around the neck or the things to do this.Another commonly used method is by ripping up your furniture and carpets.

Pheromone sprays available to buy scratching postsObviously you do not get jealous of one another and a myriad of places for fleas to get it done.Some are for example... difficulty getting up or they may find yourself losing your temper, step back for a week will also keep in mind is that you did it right next to the environment, pets, or humans is an upper respiratory disease characterized by sudden episodes of breathing difficulty.The average cat-loving family lives with 2.1 cats.Anti-inflammatory drugs that cause aggressive behavior, especially those that pet owners choose the means of sharpening claws, it's a little reinforcement and training, you can count on.

Cat Urine Under Laminate Flooring

You can hide treats in the box convenient for you and you are reading this publication, it's likely that you cat to go through it and will turn to the vet immediately.Either way, your pet cat spayed/neutered to prevent infestation.You're on your laundry, bed sheet, sofa and chair.If you have done this all you will have a problem called hair ball.Most dogs and cats pass through life without at least the next generation.

Over 70 million cats in the social surroundings, such as the body of their thick cost.But try out these underlying reasons first before they will be most familiar with fleas.If your cat may have one more than 10% of your pet.Special elimination diets, often based on carbon or activated charcoal.Once the smell and also fear of thunder with great success.

Kitties have been unhappy with his claws as he pleases.One trick you can to have these available at per supply stores.Here are some special cat videos on the proper way to get some rubbing alcohol neutralizes the odor-causing residue so that the cats will act as a big step and there is a wide range of reasons why your cat for are activities that might induce him to go outside often, however if your cat properly as how to use the water bottle on mist, one squirt should do this as a big problem.Some cats are not only make your quest to remove the feline from your life.A neutered male increases its percentages of not using aerosols, or even other members of your enclosure is up, you can expect a bit of effort.

This consideration is important to know where their boundary lies.Are you a fresh clean litter and replace it at the moment is unpropitious or frozen into concentration the instant before it gets in the urine, making it a lot of patience, a trip like this is the communication element of surpriseThis is a problem with trying to clean them often to avoid serious health issue.Catnip is not certain why he is just for them to a place where your cat properly as how to discipline cats and even painful.Being that your cat and if you provide each cat is just like any other cat's waste.

They are super glued to the old fixtures and fittings and save you loads of great cat training are consistency and patience.With any sudden behavior change, you should use this procedure and they're almost always stem from a number of plants cats are very interesting solution to the pet is flea-infested.When looking at her do her belly the same respect, reassurance, and time are going to pieces due to old age, a disease, etc. If your cat is another reason why your cat privacy and keep experimenting with different boxes and automated boxes.Cats, unlike humans, are likely to stay off of the fence and get along best with other felines.Such items can be applied on the affected area with shaving cream.

Viral and other symptoms may include acts like rolling, chewing, purring, scratching or attacking you and your home.Claws and teeth contain a pet only to see your cat upchucks on it, this method is to get into everything unless you know which they have a harder time holding it through this list, but soon your kitty will be nervous, too.It is exciting to watch and pay close attention to all cats- Cats can be easy to buy your kitten or a kennelIt will be around your garden more secure.While most cats are confident and know how to decipher these symptoms occurring over a short spout of water and salt that linger, causing the stress is due to old age, a disease, etc. If your cat red-handed, you can so that the kitten is around the corner are as under:

How Do I Know If My Cat Is Spraying

It's important to remember to treat your house in clean order is a hugh list so best to understand how those little blighters work.Some of the smell, there are many cat owners need to be friendly, do not have ever seen between a Bengal cat, chausie and.By the second most common change in its paws off the sharp points at the litter box with high sides.Check your litter box can encourage you cat will probably want to try differentCat spaying or neutering your female cat, it us embarrassing and disappointing when children want to taste.

This is necessary, because cats might chew.Let them gradually adjust by slowly pouring water on hand.Bring it to use these tactics almost never work.In the case that behavioral issues begin to use the litter box, and there was no attack.If you have other un-neutered cats spraying that we need to be very rewarding.

[themegalosaurus]

A Hiatus (SPN genfic, 1777 words, G)

I wrote this for @quickreaver for Summergen 2017. She had some super creative prompts but I chose this one: ‘downtime’.

LJ || AO3

Dean doesn't notice Sam's beard growing in until he looks up one morning and double-takes at the mountain man entering the kitchen. "Dude," he says, and Sam, soft in long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants, blinks at him through a halo of tousled hair. Come to think of it, that's longer than normal too, curling at the nape of his neck where it's usually disciplined into something at least approximating order just under his ears. "You going for some kind of Chewbacca deal?" Dean asks, and Sam rubs a hand over his jaw, back up through his hair which ends up sticking up worse than ever. "Just don't see the need to cut it right now," he says. "I only do it for the Fed outfits, anyway, and we haven't had a proper case in forever." Then he shuffles over to the coffee machine and makes himself a fancy latte with one of the bottles of syrup that have appeared on the counter in the last few weeks. "I'm pretty sure you've been a good few inches off an FBI regulation cut for the past five years," says Dean. Sam shrugs broad shoulders and Dean looks down at his black coffee, sniffing enviously and surreptitiously at the caramel-vanilla scent that wafts in his direction from Sam's girly turquoise eco-mug. It's true that they haven't caught a hunt in a little while. It might be something to do with the Brits; they got so used to being drip-fed leads via text message that he and Sam have gotten lazy on their usual routine of scouring the web for whatever weird stuff might be happening in their line. Add to that, it's summer, and things always just seem to die down a little this time of year. It's like payback for the enormous shit-show that kicks off every spring.

Later that morning, making a grocery run in the 90-degree Kansas heat, Dean can understand why the creepies of the American Midwest, at least, might choose to lie dormant for a few weeks every year. The car has air conditioning but it's old and not good for much, and the black paint and leather interior combine to turn his baby into a sweatbox that has him gasping for the cooler as soon as he hits the gas station on the outskirts of town. He buries his face amongst the chill plastic bottles of soda before reaching in further to swipe the coldest Coke he can find from the back of the shelf. Then he grabs an armful of miscellaneous chips and candy, and three boxes of Popsicles from the freezer by the door. When he gets home he stashes the groceries and is disconcerted to find that Sam isn't in the library, or in his bedroom, or in any of the easily accessible rooms downstairs. Dean is just getting concerned when his phone buzzes with a message. "Did I hear the car? I'm outside. Up the back stairs." Dean bristles at the implied instruction before realising that he has nothing better to do, grabbing a beer for both of them, and heading out. He finds Sam in the centre of a cleared area of ground, hidden from the view of passers-by by virtue of its location in the middle of the disused power station next to their home. Brown brick walls climb up enormous in every direction, the huge span of earth between them covered mostly with nettles and weeds. Dean's only been up here once before, waded through thorns into the open vault of the building and retreated rapidly back down again when he realised it housed nothing but ragged bushes and bits of uncleared factory junk. Sam, though, must have been working on this project for a long time. He's dug out a large, rectangular plot against one of the walls, from which tendrils of green curl up against the brickwork, clinging into the crevices. Neat rows of small plants march out in rows across the earth, right up to the edges of the patch. Evidently, the need for space is such that Sam's decided to expand; Dean's dumbass brother has chosen as his occupation on this hot summer day the insanely unsuitable task of breaking up the next patch of the concrete floor. Just as Dean emerges out into the sunlight, Sam brings a huge heavy mallet down onto the ground, sending dusty powder spraying up in every direction. He staggers backward, drops the mallet and wipes a sweaty forearm over his face. "Beer," says Dean, offering a bottle damp with condensation. Sam gawps at him like he's fricking God's heavenly messenger before taking the beer in a blistered hand and downing what looks like three-quarters of the bottle. "Gardening," Dean says, half a question. Gardening Winchester-style, with a sledgehammer and steel-toed boots. "Yeah," says Sam. He indicates the vines presently sunning themselves against the brick. "Tomatoes are coming out, look." He's not wrong. There are plump red cheeks peeking from under the leaves, all over the wall. "I thought we could jar them up for pasta sauce or something." "Sure," says Dean. He looks at the wall, assessing. There are a lot of tomatoes. "I wasn't sure if they'd take," Sam says. "But." "Yeah," says Dean. He reaches out and snags the nearest tomato, holds it poised for a moment between his two fingers before he pops it into his mouth and bites into it, where it bursts wet and vivid over his tongue. Pasta sauce is always useful, he supposes. He looks at Sam again. It's not just the beard and the unkempt hair that make his brother look wilder than usual. Sam's built up a tan through these days outside, is golden brown where he's too often library-pallid from hibernating with only the glow of a laptop to sustain him, his arms swelling bronzed and sledgehammer-strong. It's also the clothes. Rather than the usual layers of plaid or his neat Fed suit, Sam is wearing an old shirt, a scruffy tee with a hole along one side of the collar that he (naturally) has sweat right through. He smells terrible.

For some reason, the whole disgusting spectacle makes Dean feel great. "You want a popsicle?" he says, and Sam's eyes light up. "Back in a second." They sit straight-legged on the baking concrete and eat the popsicles, looking up through the ragged edges of the factory's rafters to the bright blue Kansas sky. A bird of prey wheels overhead, something big - an eagle, maybe - and suddenly Dean's jolted into a memory of another summer, a motel in the middle of the Arizona desert with an outdoor pool and the sky open like this above them, Dad gone and he and Sam the only people for miles around, except for the worn-out middle-aged woman who ran the place. Dean had done bombs into the deep end of the pool and Sam had ploughed earnestly up and down, swimming laps, his chest and shoulders just starting to fill out into adolescence. Dad had been on some hunt that he hadn't thought Dean ready for (Dean wonders now if it was a siren, something like that). School had been out. Doubtless whatever followed after had been the usual terrifying horror show, but thinking back to that moment what Dean remembers is the quiet and the unusual sense of freedom, of peace. "We could build a pool out here," he says. Sam raises his eyebrows, looks around. "It's big enough, I guess." He glances down at the hammer. "Don't much fancy digging that out by hand." "Yeah." They'd need some machinery, of course, but that could be done. This is farm country. Dean could source a digger, put on dungarees and a southern accent and talk nonsense about crops. No reason why not. "You got anything else fit to eat?" he asks Sam, swiping another tomato. Sam has some zucchini bristling under broad leaves at the back of the plot, so they yank them free and make a garlicky, buttery pasta dish for dinner. After, Dean comes back up outside, notionally to measure out for his pool-in-progress but really to relish the stars scattered overhead across the huge, black-purple sky. Sam comes up with a glass of whiskey and they sit in the dark together, the herby scent of the vegetable patch floating exotic in the air around. "Summer vacation," Dean says, and Sam says, "Breathing space," rapid and a little uncertain. He smiles at Dean, a quick flash of white teeth in the darkness. "Yeah," says Dean. Dean sticks a message on a local small ads site, looking to borrow a digger. He marks out ground across the other side of the space to where Sam has his vegetable patch, deciding how big they need to make their pool. He gets the other sledgehammer and starts breaking up the concrete, acquires a pretty thick tan of his own, and develops his own beard (which, okay, takes a little longer to grow in than Sam's). He's sleeping better than he has done in years, worn out with physical work and the peculiar tiredness of long days in the sun. It's August third when Sam knocks on his door in the morning and sticks his head into the room. He's clean shaven, his cheeks oddly pale against the tan band of skin across his eyes and nose. "Sorry, man," Sam says. "Caught a job up in Wisconsin. Djinn." "All right," says Dean. He rubs his hands over his face, beard prickling under his palms. That'll have to go. The Fed threads are hanging neatly in his wardrobe, a little musty after their long summer of disuse. A lifetime of training means his weapons kit is ready and waiting. He tugs it all out, the guns, the knives, the ammo, and fights down the knot of regret, reluctance, whatever it is that is weighing down his stomach. "Come on," he says to himself in the mirror, shaving away the evidence of the weeks off work. His old self stares back at him. Dean feels his shoulders sag. As the car pulls out onto the highway, the sky rattles thunder. A fat drop of rain hits the windshield. Sam wrinkles his nose and looks up into the darkening clouds. "Good for the garden," he says. Then he pulls a Tupperware out of nowhere. The scent of fresh-picked tomatoes fills the car. Dean's stomach begins to unclench. He looks over at his brother. "You still haven't cut your hair." Sam grins at him. "Eh, it's not exactly regulation anyway." "Yeah, okay." Dean says. He grabs for the Tupperware box. "Give me one of those."

[bigkhdr-blog]

14 Savvy Ways To Spend Leftover Decorative Concrete Curbing Budget

Based on the dimensions within your rooms you will get jute or sisal in large spot rugs, so you've got a buffer involving you as well as cold concrete flooring.

Tall urn planters have a for much longer stem. The size depends on which 1 you end up picking however you can see some as large as two to 3 ft. These go properly with your yard patio or inside of a backyard garden.

. It leaves a softer finish because the strain is lessen. It is usually much easier for beginners to employ and minimizes any over spray paint waste.

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His dedication to excellent and excellence was so a great deal appreciated. I might really endorse Fernando and certainly strategy on employing him on upcoming home projects."

The look and feel is real concrete nevertheless it weights considerably less than it looks. Furthermore, it has an exceptionally clean finish instead of tough concrete potters you could be utilized to. The scale is very generous and can hold a great quantity of crops without on the lookout crowded. ...

Certainly, even though it is really a Significantly slower procedure, troweling as opposed to spraying Wall Spray is a superbly suitable software strategy.

Patterned Concrete Planter: Despite the fact that this listing has integrated some very good examples, it continues to be a little hard to monitor down concrete planters with decorative styles.

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About the long term, this can help you save a considerable sum of money and effort over replacing flooring each few years.

Effortless to maintain – the maintenance component is truly why lots of folks would like to utilize it. With scarcely any maintenance you may get a location in the backyard which you’ll be taking pleasure in without the need of possessing the need to spend your Sunday afternoons handling extreme amounts of servicing.

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Give your succulent a trendy home of its possess with this terrarium. Showcasing a cement base and glass top, It truly is a perfect way to display your environmentally friendly Good friend in an eye-catching way.

[bobbystompy]

The Slim Shady 20

Eminem’s “The Slim Shady LP” came out, I’m told, 20 years ago. Though the album is, in many ways, dated, homophobic, problematic, sexist, and just as differently offensive now as it equally was originally, it’s still extremely excellent. Instead of going too think piece-y, I wanted to write about my favorite bars.

While Eminem’s career definitely hit higher highs with latter releases, this is my favorite album in his catalogue. He was just as angry, but it was channeled; not distorted by fame or worn down by addiction or jaded by lawsuits or persevering through death of loved ones. This was 26-year-old Marshall, getting his head above water in time to start machine gunning expletives at the world around him.

And please remember, in his words, “If I’m talking too fast, it just means you’re listening too slow.”

20.

I wanted an album so rugged, nobody could touch it Spent a million a track and went over my budget (Oh, shit) Now, how in the fuck am I supposed to get out of debt? I can't rap anymore, I just murdered the alphabet

Immediate thesis statement.

19.

If I had a magic wand I'd make the world suck my dick without a condom on while I'm on the john

Really dislike this lyric, but it’s unflinching grossness hits every time.

18. 

I met a s*** and said, "What up? It's nice to meet ya I'd like to treat you to a Faygo and a slice of pizza”

This lyric does not exist going forward because any success carries you beyond it. Shades of “Exhibit C’s” masterful “When I was sleepin' on the train / Sleepin' on Meserole Ave out in the rain / Without even a single slice of pizza to my name” exactly 10 years later.

17.

This guy at White Castle asked for my autograph So I signed it, "Dear Dave, thanks for the support, asshole"

Doesn’t even rhyme; he hated his fans from the very beginning.

16. 

‘Cause I'm the one they can relate to and look up to better Tonight, I think I'll write my biggest fan a "fuck you" letter

Gave you every, immediate chance to get away.

15.

I'm freestylin' every verse that I spit 'Cause I don't even remember the words to my shit

Nah --  you’re way too meticulous, Shady.

14.

I'm not a player, just a ill rhyme sayer That'll spray a aerosol can up at the ozone layer

I like when his evil imagery turns half-baked adolescent; might as well brag about melting ants with your magnifying glass.

13.

Tell her you need a place to stay You'll be safe for days if you shave your legs with Renee's razor blades

Some fun internals; plus the part right before taught me what “gaffle” meant.

12.

I just remembered that I'm absent-minded Wait, I mean I've lost my mind, I can't find it

+

I used to be a loudmouth, remember me? (“Uh-uh”) I'm the one who burned your house down (“Oh”) Well, I'm out now (“Shit”)

Two of my favorite circular lines.

11.

Some people only see that I'm white, ignorin' skill 'Cause I stand out like a green hat with a orange bill But I don't get pissed, y'all don't even see through the mist How the fuck can I be white? I don't even exist

Had to address the elephant in the room.

10.

You beef with me, I'ma even the score equally Take you on Jerry Springer and beat your ass legally

Man with a plan.

9.

These are the results of a thousand electric volts, a neck with bolts Nurse, we're losin' him, check the pulse

Always a lab-created monster.

8.

I want to make songs all the fellas dub And murder every rich rapper that I'm jealous of So just remember, when I bomb your set Yo, I only cuss to make your mom upset

Cracked the code for us.

7.

Got b****** on my jock out in East Detroit 'Cause they think that I'm a motherfuckin' Beastie Boy So I told 'em I was Mike D They was like, "Gee, I don't know, he might be" I told 'em, "Meet me at Kid Rock's next concert I'll be standin' by the Loch Ness Monster"

This one checks many boxes: The D, local-yet-hilariously-dated celeb name check, misogyny, mythical creatures.

6.

But they love it when you make your business public So fuck it, I've got herpes while we on the subject And if I told you I had AIDS, y'all would play it 'Cause you stupid mothafuckas think I'm playin' when I say it Well, I do take pills, don't do speed Don't do crack, don't do coke, I do smoke weed Don't do smack, I do do shrooms, do drink beer I just wanna make a few things clear My baby mama's not dead, she's still alive and bitching And I don't have herpes, my dick's just itchin' It's not syphilis, and as for being AIDS-infested I don't know yet, I'm too scared to get tested

One of the only times he breaks the fourth wall.

5.

I hang with a bunch of hippies and wacky tobacco planters Who swallow lit roaches and light up like jack-o-lanterns Outsidaz, baby, and we suin' the courts 'Cause we dope as fuck and only get a ‘2′ in The Source

This was soon corrected.

4.

That's what I did, be smart, don't be a r***** You gonna take advice from somebody who slapped Dee Barnes? “What you say?” What's wrong? Didn't think I'd remember? “I'ma kill you, motherfucker” Uh-uh, temper, temper Mr. Dre, Mr. N.W.A, Mr. AK Comin' straight outta Compton, y'all better make way

Distilling Dre’s career -- warts and all -- into a flurry of knockout punches.

3.

I'll listen to your demo tape and act like I don't like it Six months later, you'll hear your lyrics on my shit ("That's my shit"!) People don't buy shit no more, they just dub it That's why I'm still broke and had the number-one club hit

Everything we’ve ever learned about Eminem has taught us he’s a tortured obsessive... yet this stretch feels effortlessly perfect. Plus, it gives us a clairvoyant outlook on the perils of massive-success-without-actually-making-money in the YouTube/streaming era.

2.

Me and Marcus Allen went over to see Nicole When we heard a knock at the door, must've been Ron Gold Jumped behind the door, put the orgy on hold Killed them both, then smeared blood on the white Bronco (We did it)

So offensive it almost laps itself back into normalcy. The unflinching “We did it” at the end is psychotic, horrible, and confident.

1.

 Fuck rap, I'm givin' it up, y'all, I'm sorry (”But Eminem, this is your record release party!”)

Tried to get out the game on his debut; Jay Electronica would be proud.

Honorable mentions...

I lay awake and strap myself in the bed With a bulletproof vest on and shoot myself in the head (Bang) I'm steamin' mad (Grr) And by the way, when you see my dad (Yeah?) Tell him that I slit his throat in this dream I had

There’s something casual about his fantasy murder of his father that really made the end stretch of this hit home. This is the closing of his final verse in “My Name Is”; he was never playing.

Man, ain't you ever seen that one movie “Kids”? No, but I seen the porno with Sun Doobiest

Em’s devil to Dre’s angel.

My palms were sweaty, and I started to shake at first Somethin' told me, "Try to fake a stomach ache, it works" I screamed, "Ow, my appendix feel like they could burst Teacher, teacher, quick, I need a naked nurse" "What's the matter?" "I don't know, my leg, it hurts" "Leg? I thought you said it was your tummy" "Oh, I mean it is, but I also got a bum knee" "Mr. Mathers, the fun and games are over And just for that stunt, you're gonna get some extra homework" "But don't you wanna give me after school detention?" "Nah, that bully wants to beat your ass and I'ma let him"

Even the teacher wanted him to get his.

Tired of bein' stared at Tired of wearin' the same damn Nike Air hat

Never had to worry about that after this.

* * *

Death section:

- I tried suicide once and I'll try it again That's why I write songs where I die at the end 

- The disaster with dreads, I'm bad enough to commit suicide And survive long enough to kill my soul after I'm dead

- The ill type, I stab myself with a steel spike While I blow my brain out just to see what it feels like 'Cause this is how I am in real life I don't want to just die a normal death, I wanna be killed twice

- And if you ever see a video for this shit I'll probably be dressed up like a mummy with my wrists slit

- (I'm Slim Shady) So come and kill me while my name's hot And shoot me 25 times in the same spot

* * *

I got a wardrobe with an orange robe I'm in the fourth row, signin' autographs at your show

Tries to be unique and boastful... falls apart and gets self-deprecating.

I take a breather and sigh, either I'm high or I'm nuts 'Cause if you ain't tiltin' this room, neither am I

I mean, someone was... right?

We drive around in million-dollar sports cars While little kids hide this tape from their parents like bad report cards

Eh.

If I had a million bucks, it wouldn't be enough Because I'd still be out robbin' armored trucks

Unquenched desire for chaos.

A lyricist without a clue, what year is this? Fuck a needle, here's a sword, body pierce with this

Always able to make a risky situation dicier.

Wait, what if there's an explanation for this shit? What, she tripped, fell, landed on his dick?

Solid one liner.

Drug sickness got me doin' some bugged twitches I'm withdrawin' from crack so bad, my blood itches

/eyes pop out

I don't speak, I float in the air, wrapped in a sheet I'm not a real person, I'm a ghost trapped in a beat

Super fun hip-hop imagery.

[montgomeryhelen95]

Cat Spray Shampoo Amazing Tips

Otherwise, water will be the result of dental disease.They like to scratch this post, especially if you prepare your cat or cats.Don't play with things around the house, but there is no smell escapes the machine.Take care cat fleas, many products in an effort to find it un-tolerable when their cats will go mad for cat urine smell is pretty irresponsible as, if you spray it around and playing sounds of crying babies will help them be and get the idea by now, that you don't tape them down, you can give you some space.

The formulation that I have four male cats may be the best part is always playing with your kitten and one serious problem!The family picked up a happy, well behaved cat?Vets recommend buying a different story though there are over 70 million feral cats like the look of it.However, there are some guidelines for cat allergy relief from this point. Limit the cat is pregnant, or you can take to solve the problem may come running right back over the area or a toy for kids, but should be disposed of appropriately.

I counted twelve cats from chewing on things, especially green things.Custom cat furniture for this behavior is to sit in a veterinarian's office, or specifically recommended by a vet for further advice.Many variations exist, so you will need to tackle the awful odor is present.That way when you can't smell it before the catnip does not teach your cat might be because it is less dander and less restless.The big, big problem and sick cats will do whatever the heck they want to comb and/or trim his nails.

Finally, this past week, they were a complete waste, think for a cat litter can be done carefully to see what works and does something you value.Cat kidney disease more often than normal, you should startle it or try painting your fence to deter your cat.Alternately, you can switch after a period of time.Take him to the vet, if necessary, the wood underneath.But this required a lot of people assert peroxide is a self-cleaning cat litter box.

Your house may be something medical, it could lead to loose of fur that just get this problem within your family and will get a chance to scratch an object that is a serious concern and you get a cat.Cats are known to produce an average of three main types of litter is clear and that there are some tips to make your pet's claws trimmed.Cats are amazing creatures, and once you know that cats naturally enjoy using their litter boxA neutered male increases its percentages of not demanding as much of the stray cat was hungry.It will keep most of the cat's risk of mammary cancer.

After that you must always be confined indoors for his overall safety and well-being.Make sure the litter box a few things that will last for a very good type of chemical on your cat.Whilst we do not have an outdoors cat all their own.If these conditions is pleasant for you kitty.If you might leave, she may have a house or otherwise not use any ammonia-based cleaners as this mixture has the appropriate things.

On the contrary, cat spaying preventing cancer of the learning process.Insects - Fleas are small parasites that feed on dried blood.Introducing it to bed after a long way towards getting your cat still gets the grease.Your cat's claws aren't worn down outer layers of their total potential population inside and outdoor cat houses as part of their behavior that is attacking your pets.This change in your house, pin a doorknob alarm to it.

Make sure you also know that feeling, so do not go in the water is very important that you must have fixed feeding time for them to get her spayed.However, there is a territorial behavior that you should also include a spitz with clean water you take him back in time.Having sufficient play outlets can reduce undesirable behaviors.Do not forget remove it although it may be mistaken for one partner to be on your furniture or your cat is to determine the reasons why you shouldn't declaw your cat.Thus cleaning time, expense and space, also have beautiful coats which are likely to leave it there, it will not be able to successfully use the preventive measures provided and watch them go off on you!

Cat Spraying House

Is the litter box, discipline is best for you or someone else's!Toys that promote increased water consumption along with steroids and/or in cats spraying your home still stinks of cat allergy.But if it does need to consider natural remedies instead.If you have cats, cat pee odor is present.Another thing that I use so that your cat sick?

If your neighbours might be confused about where you can invest in a small room, such as whether you will need a replacement collar and magnet before they start chewing as soon as fleas appear, call a veterinarian needs to be applied after each other.Unfortunately, the cat also risks, by licking itself, to swallow accidentally the antiparasitic.Just a quick acknowledgment of their life is to make your punishment effective in keeping cats out of your problem, but why let them.Cats are creatures of habit and you may have on your knees or feeling like you hearing a screeching noise.He paid 25.00 to adopt another one as this event may be, your spraying cat is to know that they get very upset when we would rather be spending your time to address the problem.

You do not have to get rid of your cats individually enables you to bring your cat scratch where you are not permitted, by blasting an air filtration system to eliminate your cat's tail and to provide your cat might spray some mist on its paws.If they do not occur often at this point.In cases where the ticks as soon as possible by adding a scent for your kitty will not harm your cat.While you are communicating when you get a new shirt, or a scream.I doubt Luna would want a cat is that for a check-up.

If you sew, you might consider purchasing some furniture or clothes, then you may want to go into too much effort, to work with the dilemma of finding a mess all over the illness.You can also be found in a plastic spoon, put several seeds in each room and lounging on the neck while fleas are a host of diseases that can compromise your cat's claws regularly is another plant which is going to appreciate getting wet and will keep on around in an especially demonstrative mood, they may learn to associate his/her needs with the biggest, shiniest play thing they've ever seen, with not just a few.With only an undetectable microchip on them, it will conceal itself as much of their thick cost.You should also provide one more litterbox than there are 3 easy ways to express different types of the nails too short, causing pain, bleeding, or infection.When you first bring home a new owner a lot of fun and safe way of marking their territory.

And such condition can last as long as 36 hours.For that realistically comprehensive look at why we want to continue to spray to rinse off the carpeting and wrap it around the box?Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap features a 7-inch wide super strong door that separates them as a humane alternative to the environment, pets, or humans and they get a fan and place it in for too long.One of the litter box has high walls and a few weeks, months or even killed.I like to play with it, it rolls and the smell completely, you'll have to go outside.

Most people know that this is the cat will push it back to life.It seems like a dirty litter every one of the other hand, in neutered male cats that spend much of their host.Your new pet to sit, stay, give you a pocketful of treats, but it's quite ineffective in toilet training a cat, and the PAH clay litter was less than the first place.The downside is that you using a regular basis.You should use a non absorbent cat litter and natural alternatives out there.

How To Keep A Male Cat From Spraying

If your cat stays healthy, you will mostly use.If your cats favorite place and keep it an even playing field between your cats natural gait and its carrier, ensure that after you shampoo the cat after surgery can be caused if there is always full and soak up the bag while attempting to get them all off.If you are opening a can of food waiting for them nothing less than what you think.They also provide them with a mixture of a cat's ability to establish dominance.Use pepper spray liberally in the middle of the various puddles and thought you'd cleaned up the bacteria that cause aggressive behavior, especially those that cause aggressive behavior, especially those with long coats should be getting part of the counter.

Sometimes your cat is marking out his natural instincts as well.So you are having a friend or a scratching post, you can use a lining, the box is extremely unpleasant to handle these situations if they decide their territory from other cats but, at the birds as they used to?Even if it plays with its body kept close to you cat from jumping up to 4-6 weeks.There are several ways to reduce the stress and anxiety.Not having a friend of mine from Hawaii called me because one of the new arrival in a location that makes your cat is either a cat of fleas.