#i was giving myself a headache over who should be who

[skullfragments]

when you’re a group of two where one is captain of the basketball team and the other is the weird genius student but you’ve finally embraced your true love for singing (and each other) and audition in the call-backs for the school winter musical after winning the basketball championships and the science decathlon, respectively.

here’s a close up or two:

[horrorwebs]

i hate my best friend earlier i was like "im scared that this guy likes me bc he said something that i would only say to people who i like, but i recognize thats its a normal ass thing to say anyway and i rationally know he does not like me, but still, my brain decided to play with that concept and made me have a terrible nightmare the other night about it and now im subconsciously scared that he will like me ( with the underlying concept of "i am scared of men")" and shell go ohohioo what if youre projecting and its actually YOU that likes him. ????? bitch did you not hear the part about having a dream where he abused me or ...?sometimes being asexual is a nightmare nobody gets it

[ariisheresstuff]

The Hormones

Pairings: Carmy x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: You decided to go with Carmy to work, Carmy hesitated with bringing you along with you. You been dealing with pregnancy hormones recently. With the hormones hitting you, Richie had enough and lashes out on you making you upset.

Genre: Angst to comfort

Warnings: Cursing, Crying, mentions of being pregnant, Richie being mean, Yelling.

MasterList

A/N: My requests are open! 💜

“Alright baby, I’m off to work.” Carmen announces as walks over to you in the kitchen. He places a hand on your bump rubbing it gently before kissing your forehead.

“Actually, Carmy?” You said making him go back to face you.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked as he softly cupped your face worriedly. You smiled at him being so protective of you.

“Can I come with you today? I’m tired of being home by myself.” You said with pleading eyes.

Carmen sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure babe? I don’t want you getting tired of being bored at the place. Plus, you should be resting.” Carmen loves when you come along with him to work, but with your hormones being more stronger and you being more sensitive, he hesitated. You literally started to cry over tying your shoe because your stomach was in the way.

You pouted, “Please Carmy? I promise I won’t cause trouble I just wanna be with you, I get sad when I’m alone here.” Your eyes were already watering making Carmen panic.

“Okay, okay baby, don’t get upset. I hate when you get upset, it hurts me. Of course you can come, but if things to start to overwhelm you, you tell me okay?” You nodded making him smile and peck your lips. He grabbed your hand as the two you of walked out of the apartment.

“Look who finally showed up!” Richie announced as Carmen walked in with you, Carmen rolled his eyes.

“Shut the fuck Richie, get to work.” Carmen shook his head as he led you through the kitchen.

“What brings you here sweets?” Richie asked you as he gave you a hug, you smiled.

“Didn’t feel like staying home, I need to get out and enjoy life before the little one comes.” Richie nodded as he continued to work.

Tina smiled as she walked up to you giving you a hug and a kiss before rubbing your bump. “How are you doing mama? Baby doing good?”

You smiled at Tina’s comfort, “Healthy baby, but it’s killing me.” You whined making Tina frown.

“Aye, poor thing. You need anything?”

“Not right now, I’m okay thank you.” Carmen yelled something at the others, as you walked towards his office.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” You quickly turned to see Sydney waving, you quickly smiled at you and gave her a hug.

“Hey Syd! How you doing?”

“Good, good, and you?”

“Ugh, it’s hard dealing with a fetus in your stomach.” You joked as you rubbed your bump.

“Well hey, almost time y’know?”

You nodded with a smile, “I can’t wait.” You quickly said goodbye as Carmen led you to sit in his office chair.

“You hungry or anything?” He asked you as he ran a hand over your back, you shook your head.

“Not at the moment.” You shrugged

“Alright, let me know if anything.” He quickly gave you a kiss to your lips making you sigh.

“Love you.” You said with a smile making him smile back.

“Love you more.”

It’s been over two hours already and you starting to get cranky. You were whining as you had your head down. Your back was killing you and you felt a headache coming on from the heat from the kitchen. You whined as you slowly got up before wincing as your back started to hurt. You rubbed your bump as you opened the office door entering the kitchen.

“Guys, I fucking told you a million times! Get your shit together, I’m not fucking playing!” Carmen yelled as everyone yelled “Yes Chef!” In unison. Carmen sighed before he spotted you with a frown on your face.

“Hey baby, you okay? What’s wrong?” He cupped your face as he examined your features.

“I’m getting hungry carm, it’s hot I’m dying! And my back is hurting!” You said a little too loud, Carmen cursed in his mind knowing you were getting cranky.

“I’m sorry babe, you wanna sit by the booths? You might cool off better there. And you want something to eat?” He led you to the entrance of the diner, before you stopped him.

“No Carmen, nothing is helping me. I’m tired and hungry and it’s making me upset!” You could feel tears forming making Carmen cringe.

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax, I know baby. I’m sorry that you’re going through this. Just take a deep breath and I’ll make you something to eat, what do you feel like having, hm?” He said softly not wanting to make you more upset, he quickly rubbed your back making you whimper as small tears fell down your face.

“I-I I don’t know what I want to eat! Basically anything I eat makes me puke! I can’t take it anymore!” You were starting to get more loud making everyone in the kitchen look at you and Richie finally blew it.

“Jesus Christ! Why did you even come if you’re gonna act like a bitch?” Richie yelled from the other side, everyone turned to look at Richie who had a frown on his face.

“Richie!” Carmen yelled back at his cousin making Richie shake his head.

“Nah! Because why the fuck is she here if she’s gonna be bitchy about everything? Make that make sense to me!”

“Richie, you better shut the fuck up! She’s pregnant, I don’t care if she’s here or not! Don’t make me fucking hurt you cousin!”

“Let me see you try, jagoff.” Richie said with a sarcastic chuckle. Carmen’s eyes twitched.

“Don’t even start with me Richie! You’re the fucking jagoff, don’t start with that bullshit I-

Carmen stopped his yelling when he heard a sniffle and a whimper. Everyone turned to look at you, tears fell down your face as you hiccuped.

“I-I’m sorry.” You said through broken sobs, everyone just froze as they watched you cry.

“Baby.” Carmen said softly as he quickly walked over to you. “Hey, look at me.” You pushed his hands away as you shook your head. You then turned around and walked over to the back door, you opened the door as you went outside to the cool breeze.

Everyone just stood there in silence, then looked at Richie.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Richie! How dare you do such a thing to that poor girl! She’s pregnant for god sake!” Tina yelled at Richie as she slapped his arm with a frown.

“Not cool Richie, seriously.” Marcus said with a shook of his head as he followed Tina outside.

“Do better Richie, honestly.” Sydney said as she followed the rest outside to console you.

Richie just stood there frozen with his mouth slightly opened.

“What the fuck is your problem!?!” Carmen roared as he shoved Richie into a wall nearby, making Richie stumble.

“Chill Carmen!”

“No, you chill! How are you gonna say that to her huh?!?! Don’t you have a kid?!?! Didn’t you deal with this too?!? How dare you come at Y/N like that! She didn’t deserve that shit! She’s seven fucking months pregnant! Of course she’s gonna feel like shit!” All Carmen saw was red as his shoulders rose up and down from his yelling rant. His heart was pounding as his hand shook under Richie’s shirt he had a grip on.

“Chill the fuck out Carmen! I’m sorry, that just came over me! I mean it! I didn’t mean for that happen, I just let my inner thoughts get to me! I know she didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry alright?” Richie said in a calming voice to get Carmen to calm down.

Carmen gave him a glare as he let go his shirt, “You better fucking apologize to her, not me. Understand?” Richie nodded with hands in surrender, Carmen huffed as he first walked outside, Richie behind him.

You had your head buried in your hands as Tina comforted you, your head rested on her shoulder as she rubbed your back in comfort , your shoulders shook with each sob.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for-for that to-to happen.” You whimpered, making Tina shake her head.

“Nonsense mija, you are carrying a child. You have every right to feel this way. Richie is being an asshole, don’t let him get to you mama.”

You removed your hand away from your face before looking up to see Carmen and Richie. Tina moved away but not before giving your head a peck as she told everyone to go back inside, leaving you, Carmen, and Richie alone.

You looked down at your feet, not making eye contact with either of the men. Carmen didn’t say anything as he walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you.

You couldn’t help but feel more tears fall down as you softly cried into his chest. Carmen softly shushed you as he rubbed your back knowing it was hurting you. He whispered sweet nothing in your ear as he kissed your head and forehead repeatedly.

“I-I I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean for this to happen.” You said through hiccups, Carmen shook his head.

“Hey, no, stop that. This wasn’t your fault baby. You’re pregnant, you have every right to be mad, upset, and sad. This is a hard time for you. But you should’ve stayed home baby. It’s always chaotic here, and I don’t want that to overwhelm you. I want you to be okay and feel comfortable. I know it’s hard for you, but I’m here always for you okay?”

He cupped your face making you look up at him, your lip trembled as tears fell down your cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, before kissing your lips a few times. He gave you a hug making you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying his touch.

“I love you, y’know that?” He said softly in your ear making you nod in his chest. He swayed you back and forth before facing Richie, who had a frown on his face.

“I think Richie has something to say to you too.” Carmen said softly making you open your eyes to see Richie with a sad frown. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you Y/N, I really am. I admit I was being a jagoff and all that shit I said was wrong and that you don’t deserve that. But, I hope you can forgive me because you’re my family and I don’t want to hurt you like that again.”

You actually felt another set of tears coming at Richie’s apology, you loved Richie as family. You hated what he said to you, but how can you not forgive him.

“Oh Richie, of course I forgive you. I’m sorry that I triggered you to go off on me. I’m sorry, you’re a sweet man and I know you didn’t mean it.” You hiccuped as you walked over to Richie before wrapping your arms around his waist bringing him into a hug. Richie’s eyes went wide, not expecting you to forgive him so easily. He tensed up as you hugged him, but quickly relaxed and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry kid, really. I was an asshole for that.” He said softly as he rubbed your back in comfort making you look up at him with a smile. You stood on your tippy toes before pecking his cheek with a smile making him smile back at you. You turned to face Carmen who walked over to you and Richie.

“Don’t pull that shit again cousin or I swear I will beat your ass.” Richie rolled his eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah cousin, I got it. Jesus.” He shook his head making you chuckle a bit at the two men.

“You still hungry baby?” Carmen asked you as the three of you walked back into the kitchen. You nodded your head at that.

“I’m having those cravings again actually.” You said as you held onto Carmen’s hand. He led you to the booths in the front, Carmy smiled.

“What’s the craving today?” Carmen said as the two of you sat down at a booth.

“Pickles and ice cream.” You said with a smile making Carmen give you a disgusting look. You smacked his arm before laughing.

“How the fuck do you enjoy that?” He said as he got up, you laughed.

“It’s not me, it’s the baby!” You put your hands up in surrender.

“Sure it is baby.” He said with a smile before leaning down to kiss you before entering the kitchen.

“Marcus! Get me a cup of the ice cream you made and Tina! Get me some pickles! Y/N is having her weird ass cravings again!”

“Carmen! Don’t announce it to everyone!

Tag-List: @otomefan @chunnies @slasherstories123 @avengersfan25 @th3h0nkz

[rosequarzo]

that boy is mine.

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! alhaitham + reader reader is female established relationship modern + college au ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 1064— catalogue

note. listening to that boy is mine gave me an idea so, here you go. this is so messy i hate this... i might delete but we'll see... tagging @rninies

There is no doubt that Alhaitham is popular. Incredibly popular, in fact but not that you could blame them. Who wouldn’t fall victim to his handsome, stoic and quiet personality? It goes without saying that he has gathered a concerning figure of fans. Heck, there was even a fanclub made just for him. Dating the famous guy on campus proved to be a difficult task for you, since you have to restrain yourself from jumping on them whenever they looked at your boyfriend with a dreamy expression. 

No one knew that you were dating, no one other than your circle of friends of course. It was thanks to Kaveh barging into his roommate’s room without knocking the door, only to stumble upon the sight of Alhaitham hovering over you on the bed and the rest was history. Although, you were glad that your peers have known about your relationship, as it proves to be a difficult task trying to keep it low. 

“Hey, look. She’s trying again,” Cyno nudges you with his elbow, pointing ahead of him and you follow his direction with your eyes. 

The sight before you greets you with distaste and faint jealousy. It was none other than the newly-transferred student, approaching your boyfriend and attempting to engage him in a conversation. Keyword: attempting. Everyone knew how Alhaitham was; ignoring the public but when it comes to you, his focus was entirely on you; like you were the only one that matters to him. Kaveh sniggered; amused with how Alhaitham was ignoring the student, focused on reading his book. 

“Don’t you get tired of people chasing after your boyfriend?” Kaveh asked, reaching out to steal your fries, only to flinch when you slapped his hand away. 

“No, not really. In fact, I found it funny and chose to watch for my entertainment,” you shrugged your shoulders, focused on observing the scene unfold itself from the sidelines. 

None of you could hear what the student was saying, due to the distance between the two of you but you could tell she was starting to become irritated, judging from the way she furrowed her eyebrows and her lips curling downwards. The next thing you knew, she had the audacity to pull him back when Alhaitham was about to leave. The mere sight of their hands touching made you see red. You shot up from your seat, startling your friends and they watched, dumbfounded as you stormed your way towards them. 

“Uh, do you think we should stop (Name)?” Kaveh asked, getting worried about what’s about to happen. 

“Nah, this is going to be good,” Cyno shook his head, pulling out his phone and getting ready to record the chaos. Tighnari merely lets out an exasperated sigh, feeling a headache forming. 

“...think you are doing? Let me go,” Alhaitham’s annoyed voice rung through your ears as you got closer to them. 

The student huffs, standing her ground and meets his eyes with a defiant gaze in them. “Look, why are you not interested in me? I can be anything you want and besides, there’s no harm in giving us a try.” 

Alhaitham scowls, eyes narrowing. “I’m afraid you’re misunderstanding something. There is no us.” 

“But-” 

“Hey, do you mind letting him go?” You interrupted, standing behind the girl and flashed her a closed-eye smile; a smile that was anything but friendly. 

You saw how your boyfriend’s eyes widened slightly, surprised to see you but you ignored him, focused on getting rid of the unwanted presence standing between the two of you. The student fully turned, eyeing you up and down with disgust written all over her face. 

“And who are you supposed to be? We’re having a conversation here,” she asked. 

You arched an eyebrow. “I’m his girlfriend, you dumb bitch. Don’t make me repeat myself: let him go.” 

It seems like she was more stubborn than you thought, for she didn't believe your words and laughed. “You’re his girlfriend? Yeah right, like I believe that.” 

Humming, you walked around her to stand beside Alhaitham. You could see how your friends were looking at you from the corner of your eyes. At this point, everyone nearby was looking at you and why not put on a little show for them? Without warning, you grabbed your boyfriend by the collar of his shirt, harshly tugging him down and kissed him fully on the lips. Your abrupt action elicited a high-pitched scream from Kaveh and a round of startled sounds from the public. If you listened closely, you could make out the faint cheering sound from Cyno. 

The kiss ended as fast as it happened, much to Alhaitham’s disappointment. When you pulled away, you were greeted with the satisfying sight of the student staring at you, rendered speechless. Her eyes were wide open to the point they might have popped out from its sockets. You smiled and shot her an arrogant grin.

“Well? Does that answer your question?” You taunt. 

Utterly humiliated in front of everyone, she had no choice but to flee the scene. The nearby people soon went back to minding their business once the drama had ended, and the two of you returned to where your friends were. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you had that in you. Not bad,” Kaveh gave you a thumbs-up before turning to his roommate who sat down beside you. 

“So Alhaitham, how does it feel now that your relationship is exposed?” He asked. 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” he retorted, his hand moving to rest on your thigh underneath the table; hidden from everyone’s eyes. 

“Tch, you and that shitty personality of yours,” the blond grumbled, making you laugh. 

“All’s well that ends well. Hopefully no one will dare to confess to you anymore,” you pointed out and your words made a faint smirk form on Alhaitham’s handsome face. 

“Don’t tell me you were jealous,” he taunts, faint mischief glimmered in his eyes. 

“I was not,” you defended yourself, hating how he had turned the tables on you. 

“Uh huh, whatever you say love,” he nods his head, obviously not buying your lie. 

The sudden pet name used made your cheeks flushed red followed by Kaveh making disgusted sounds in front of the two of you. “Ew, you two should get a room.” 

“We did but due to a certain someone, our time-”

“Alhaitham!” 

[villainousauthor]

The hero wrinkles their nose at smell of antiseptic wipes, at the cold feel against their skin, as the villain prepares to draw more blood. They've lost count how many vials Villain has taken at this point.

Hero winces, trying to flinch away at the inevitable sharp pinch, and Villain digs their fingers into their arm some more. They press hard, cold hands keeping them still. "If I mess up, I'll have to stick you again." They warn, voice level. Paper crinkles under where Hero sits, the soft sound filling the silence.

Hero keeps their gaze downward, the bright florescent lights over head giving them a headache. You think with how long they've been here, they would have gotten used to the ugly, artificial glare, but they miss the sun.

They look up at Villain through their lashes, who's currently too focused on their current task to notice, eyebrows pinched together as they seem deep in thought.

"I doubt you're even certified to be drawing blood in the first place." Hero ribs, voice quiet, the words light but the humor just quite not there.

Villain snorts, as they finish and pull the IV out gently. "I've seemed to be able to do it fine all these weeks." They apply the cotton bandage to the area, securing it in place, though it's honestly not necessary, the small wound already likely healed.

Hero knows they shouldn't be trying to make Villain laugh, or trying to lighten the tense air that surrounds their every interaction. They should be attempting to escape, should be fighting tooth and nail against the strange experiments their arch nemesis insists on trying, but so many failed escapes and so many weeks without the presence of any other person has them weak for any human contact they can get.

They've almost begun to mistake the way Villain grabs their arm when taking blood, the way Villain's cold hand holds their face still when swabbing their mouth, the way they stand close when checking their vitals, as misplaced forms of affection.

It's pure delusion, Hero knows this, but they crave another persons touch so much they can almost believe it. Thinking about it too much makes their head hurt more than even the obnoxious overhead lights do.

Villain takes their silence as a sign to continue speaking. "Soon enough, I'll find the secret behind how your regenerative abilities work and then I'll be unstoppable." They say cleaning up, and placing the three tubes of blood they took on the tray to their left. Hero's head swirls as they watch the swishing of the dark red liquid.

Facing them again, still standing close, Villain's eyes finally meet Hero's and their voice softens slightly when they say this next part. "I won't have to poke and prod you so much when I do." Their voice is gentle enough that Hero wants to believe them, to trust them.

Hero licks their dry lips, voice cracking slightly. "Will...will you finally let me go once you do?" The question Hero has been avoiding asking this whole time.

The question gives Villain pause, as they seem to consider it for a moment. They step closer, placing their hands on either side of where Hero sits, bracketing them in. "I could...I probably should.." Villain's voice is whisper quiet as they stand inches away, breath fanning over Hero's ear.

"But I think prefer keeping you for myself."

[dreadsuitsamus]

i'm waiting for my state inspection and this mom is here with her baby and the baby is so cuuuuuuute, the noisy lil thing. and now i'm imagining single parent nanami in a similar scenario with baby yuji, and reader being the only other person in the waiting lounge.

kento gently shushes the boy in his arms, the little thing quickly growing into a ball of energy, even at only six months old. "yuji." he murmurs softly, fruitlessly pressing the baby's pacifier into his mouth. "please settle down."

yuji spits out his favorite binkie, waving his hands around as he babbles to his adopted father his woes. kento nods along with a sigh, glancing over at the only other person in the lounge. "i apologize in advance for any headaches." babies deserve their space in public, no doubt, but yuji is so loud that kento feels the need to at least warn you.

smiling warmly, you wave a hand. "don't worry. i raised a child myself for a time— i assure you, i'm used to it."

for a time? perhaps you're a foster parent; kento initially only planned to be as such for yuji himself, but the bond he formed with the pink-haired cutie quickly became too strong for kento to even entertain the idea of giving him up. "thank you for understanding."

"besides, who could possibly ever be mad at that face?" you coo, waving at an enamored baby yuji. his cheeks blush, the now bashful baby hiding his face in his father's broad chest.

"you only act shy around women." kento murmurs, brow perked as he looks down at his boy.

chuckling, you settle back into the nice armchair and open your magazine again. kento glances over at you as he swipes a comforting hand over yuji's back. feeling eyes your way, you look up to catch his gaze. he's handsome. and a good father, from the looks of it. "how old is he?"

"twenty-seven weeks."

nodding, you pick up the toy yuji carelessly throws to the ground that rolled to your feet. standing and coming to hand it over, your fingers brush kento's. "i take it he resembles his mother?"

kento wipes the toy on his shirt before giving it back to the baby. "i'm not sure. i took yuji in when he was just born; he was left in the cold with a note attached to him." all the note said was the boy's name, and that this was what was best for him. a little digging for further information only provided that the boy's two older siblings have been lost to the system, but kento is determined to eventually bring them all together again as brothers should be.

gasping softly, you take the seat beside kento. "he's been through so much, hasn't he?" you murmur softly, eyes soft as the baby stares at you with big, warm eyes.

"he has." kento mumbles, squeezing his son just a bit. "his spirits are high, despite that."

"no doubt because of you."

kento's cheeks warm. "... thank you."

silence falls, or as silent as it can be with a rambunctious baby in the room. yuji begins to whine after a point, likely hungry! kento swears lowly; he hadn't anticipated it would take this long for his car to be serviced, and that's where the baby's snacks are!

the usual routine of bouncing, tickling and kisses isn't working, and you bite your lip as you watch the struggle. a handful of years ago, you fostered a baby too and are more than familiar with this struggle. "... may i?"

kento considers it, eventually handing the boy over. perhaps you'll be able to settle him just long enough for kento to make a dash into the shop—

yuji stops crying the second he's settled in your arms, that little smile bright. returning his grin, you gently rub his tummy. "now, now... giving your papa such grief isn't very nice!"

the baby is putty in your hands, quiet and giggly and bashful as a conversation stirs between you and kento. an hour passes and yuji's fast asleep by the time kento's name is called, and you stand to walk with him to the car and carefully settle yuji in the car seat. kento straps him in, triple-checking each buckle and strap before he's satisfied enough to close the door.

"thank you for your help." kento murmurs, staring down at you and your sweet face. it's been some time since he's encountered a stranger as lovely as you.

"of course... and, if you'd like..." it's your turn to be bashful now, your eyes flicking from kento's to anywhere else. "um... i'd love to see you and yuji again sometime."

glancing at the soundly sleeping baby through the window, kento gazes back at you. "i— we would like that." his cheeks flush, and your giggle pulls the tiniest of smiles to his lips.

[dante-mightdie]

Jumping aboard the 141 dog train bc woof. No need to make anything of this if you don't feel like it, just sharing my thoughts :)

Imagine reader being a show dog. I myself am picturing a Beauceron or a Red Belgian Tervuren, purely because they're just so gorgeous and striking, but feel free to imagine whatever breed you please. — Laswell finds you traipsing along the side of the road late at night, trembling from the cold and trotting in an oddly rigid manner—your head held high away from the ground and tail pointed skyward. That's weird. A high tail means confidence, but what could you possibly be confident about? And shouldn't a dog keep their head low, sniffing out their path?

She pulls over and you bound up to the car, which is another red flag for her. A lone dog out in the backroads should be a lot more cautious about random vehicles stopping right beside you, but you're only disinterested when the door opens and you see that it's only her inside.

It's then that she sees the thick, jewel-encrusted white leather collar buckled around your throat. There isn't a name or a number on it anywhere. It's purely for decoration. It's then that she also notices just how shiny your coat is, proudly wearing your healthy layer of silky fur like it was an expensive accessory.

Without the shadow of a doubt, you are a pampered little thing who is far, far away from home.

It comes as a shock to her that you're actually a hybrid, and not just some stray mutt. She only manages to get you in the car with gentle persuasion and the promise of a warm interior and some water.

Once inside, she shoots a message to Price and starts asking you questions.

"Am I correct in assuming that you're a... show dog?"

The haughtiness in your voice as you respond has Kate silently reminding herself that she was no better than whoever deserted you on the side of the road if she kicked you out.

"Tsk. Show dog. Ugh, please. I'm a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon champion of the World of Canines pageant. I'm a legend."

That reply is more than enough to convince Kate that silence would be much better suited for the duration of the ride. You don't agree.

"Where are we going?" You asked snappily once you realized you hadn't told her where you were going, "Why haven't you contacted my owners?"

"Sweetie—" Kate began patiently with a wry laugh, starting off with an endearment the way her wife would when she wanted to deescalate a situation "—you have zero contact information on you. I don't know who your owners are."

The incredulous look you gave her would've been funny if you hadn't been dead serious.

"What?" You all but yipped, "How on earth do you not know my owners? Actually— how on earth do you not know me?"

The thought of dumping you back into the snow for the wolves to ravage was a tempting one, but the image of Price and his boys putting you in your place was an even more satisfying one. At least, she hoped they would be able to manage you. There was also the chance that you would be so insufferable that you drove the boys to insanity, but she had seen her mutts stomach worse. She likes to think you'd make a nice little gift for them. They always loved a challenge.

She didn't bother answering you.

When you arrived at the top of a twisting path up a hillside—complaining every bit of the way about how the gravelly roads were giving you a headache and that you'd be getting eyebags soon if you didn't get your beauty rest—your nose crinkled in disgust. There were too many clashing scents that assaulted your powdered nose, having been far too accustomed to the poignant fragrances of the perfumes and potpourris you were bestowed in your vanity back at home.

"A cabin?" You sneered distastefully, huffing, "This is where you stay?"

"Nope." Laswell exited the driver's side and yanked the passenger door open, not bothering to hid her amusement when you almost fell out of the vehicle with a startled yelp. "It's where you'll be staying."

It was hard to miss the harrowed expression of dread that befell your features as those words met your perky ears.

"So until I can manage to get ahold of your owners, I suggest you behave, alright?"

She stepped back and pulled you out of the SUV—a birdlike screech of abhorrence exiting your lungs as she did.

"But in the meantime, boys, I've got you something to sharpen your teeth on."

You turned your head to locate who she was talking to, and felt your heart drop to your stomach when your gaze landed on a barrel-chested man standing proudly with a Rottweiler, Doberman, and a Rough Collie at his sides.

Your hackles stood on their ends. — I've got more to follow that's in a more sequential bullet-point style, but I'll cut it here for now bc I don't want it to get too long!

So, this post is just going to be me posting this ask. It arrived in 3 parts so i'll paste the second two parts under the 'keep reading'

@sugar-n-sweets said they'll post an edited version on their blog so please check it out :)

"This what you texted me about, Laswell?" The man asked, gesturing a finger towards you.

"Yeah, found her taking a late-night solo walk just a bit ago." Laswell readied herself to hop back into the car. "Figured you're more suited to house strays than myself."

The panic running rampant in your veins increased tenfold as you watched her slide in behind the wheel.

"No, you— you can't do this! You can't leave me here with— with them!"

Kate rubbed her temples and turned to you.

"Kid, you've got nowhere else to go. This is the only occupied property for miles, and I certainly can't take you back home to my wife. She's allergic to dogs."

A bold-faced lie. But you didn't need to know that.

You paled, looking back at the man and his dogs with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

"This can't be happening," you muttered aloud to no one in particular but yourself.

"Sure it can," the man sang out to you as he trotted down the stoop of the porch. You didn't miss the glint in his eyes at your cowering as he approached.

"Now come on inside, love. We wouldn't want you to get sick out here."

You entered the cabin, but only to avoid that man's hand grabbing your collar when he reached out for you. You shuddered at how close he had been to grazing your precious coat. In a place like this with a mangy scent like that... only God knew where those hands had been.

You watched the man stalk off to a room down the hall, a manila folder tucked underneath his arm.

You just about shrieked when a cold, wet nose was pressed into your hip. You jumped back with your teeth bared.

"Look at tha' gait. Never seen anythin' more unnatural." The brogue was thick with the signature of Scots, rumbling from the chest of the Rough Collie as he spoke. "Y'got a name?"

Your shoulders tensed in apprehension when the question arose.

"Got a n— yes, I have a name!" You snapped irritably, "Just look at me!"

"Oh, I'm looking, alright." The Rottweiler chuffed from a distance, "Not much of a sight, if you ask me."

You could've given everyone else whiplash with how quickly you swiveled your neck to face the bemused dog.

"Excuse me?" You growled, hackles stiff and raised to their limit. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The Scot rolled his eyes.

"If we did, ah wouldnae be askin' fer yer name." His eyes seemed to rake over your form, as if sizing you up. "What makes you so special, huh? What makes you so different from all the other mutts?"

Your eye twitched.

"Mutt?" Your voice began low, calculated and simmering in the rage that was about to boil over the edge and scald anyone standing too close. "Mutt?! I am no mutt! I am a purebred specimen of a luxury breed—"

"So you're stuck up," the Doberman snorted, sneering at you down the length of his snout. "Purebreds are only good for looking pretty. An aesthetic commodity."

The fury you felt with trying to get a word in with these dogs had your fur bristling with a type of rage that you had never before been acquainted with. "I am not stuck up! I am a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon ch—"

"Oh, so we've got a spoiled little whelp here, eh? Hope you don't expect us to pamper ye."

The frustrated squawk you let out hardly resembled anything that of a dog's cry. — Adjusting was not an easy feature to achieve.

As a show dog, you had no proper "domestic" life. You were a means of income—prize money. The only interaction you had with other hybrids, let alone animals, was with your competitions. So it was safe to say that things hadn't been going in your favor.

You struggled to keep up with them on their daily hikes around their property, as well as the only one who wore a leash. Even if there was no way you stood a chance at outrunning them, they found it amusing to tether you to a lead of rope and tug when you were falling behind—which was always. In order to keep a slim, show-ready figure, your owners never allotted you any more than ten minutes of a casual walk per day. If you even tried to speed it up to a slight trot, your time was cut in half. You did not have the muscle you needed to survive out here and it showed.

You were more humiliated than anything when Price had shoved you off the couch and sprayed you with a bottle, which especially irritated you because you weren't a cat! You were a dog! But fighting back was the last thing on your mind when you were struggling to find comfort on the hardwood floors while all three dogs were curled up with their Captain on his bed.

But over the past two weeks, you had more things to worry about than sore legs and a bruised ego. Since day one, these dogs had been cruel. They found joy in putting you through absolute misery time and time again, like a joke that never gets old.

Gaz made it his personal mission to inconvenience you at any available opportunity. He ate from your bowl, stepped on your tail, kicked you awake when you thought you were safe enough to take a nap—little things to just irk you in the worst way possible.

Ghost pissed you off by acting like you didn't exist half the time. He figured that since you were so accustomed to being recognized for your quote-unquote "achievements", being ignored was the equivalent of a swift kick to the gut. He was wrong. It was more like a sledgehammer to the kidneys in your case.

Soap was much more forward with his advances. He just wanted to piss you off and that was that. He would tackle you to the ground when you were outside, almost like a puppy trying to initiate playtime. He'd send you rolling into dirt, rocks, and snow—showing no interest in assisting you when you had to spend the next few hours picking dead bugs and bits of twigs from your hair. You couldn't be looking like some indecent pup when your owners came looking for you. You were raised better than that. You had a reputation and an image to uphold, and you were never one to disappoint.

And Price didn't do anything except watch with amusement as you were tormented left and right. Some handler he is.

It wasn't until the fourth week that things did began to take a turn.

There was still no word from Laswell about your owners. You'd almost thought that she'd forgotten about you, what with the radio silence regarding your situation and all.

It was a daily routine for you to wait at the front door—nose just inches away from the cold, dark wood in anticipation. It was as if you expected it to fly off the hinges and reveal your owners who you practically worshipped, arms open wide and ready to bring you back home.

You knew you'd be lucky to even get a reassuring head-pat if they found you, but the idea of their excitement at finally finding you was the one thing that kept putting you in front of that door every single morning.

Everyone noticed your behavior, but Ghost was the first to let it fully clock that even if you were in insufferable little hellion—you acted the way you did because that's what you were raised to recognize as the norm. You didn't act like this because you wanted to, you acted like this because it was expected of you, and any disconnection from these mannerisms likely resulted in punishment when you were younger.

He didn't really know what to do with that information, so he didn't do anything. — Laswell's visit the next weekend was unwarranted, but most certainly not unwelcomed.

"You still got that show dog with you, or did you leave the back door unlocked during bear season?" She asked, her stalwart tonality clashing with the joke she made.

"Rest assured, the lil' priss is alive and well, Kate," Price coolly responded as he swung his ax down onto an upright log—splitting it in half.

"Good."

"Any reason for the sudden concern, or are you just feelin' sweet today?" Price set up another log and lined up his ax.

"I found her owners."

The hatchet met the cutting stump with a deep 'thunk', the edge of the blade burying itself much further than it was intended to go.

"Really?"

Kate nodded.

"Hm. Well..." Price paused, giving the handle of the tool a harsh tug and dislodging it from the wood. "...That's good."

"I wouldn't speak so soon."

"Why's that?"

Kate extended her phone to him, where a gallery of photos was displayed on the screen. There were two people—a man and a woman—smiling brightly with a pampered pooch sitting in front of them, donning a blue ribbon, and a leather collar identical to yours.

Except, it wasn't you.

"This was from the pageant last week. The one she was supposed to compete in."

"So why isn't she?" Price inquired, scrolling through the photos and finding similar images from different angles.

"She didn't win first place in her last show." Kate took her phone back from Price. "They never told her that she lost. They just took a 'detour' on their way to the next pageant, and picked up their next dog after dropping her off on the shoulder a month ago."

"So they just..."

"Left her, yeah." Kate nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. "So, her position here may be a little more permanent than we thought."

You were raised by your owners to be the embodiment of elegance. That meant no barking, no scratching, no bouts of energy—none of it. You were so used to this way of life, ignoring your instincts, that you never had the desire to do any of those things.

But when you found out about what your owners had done—

Oh, how you wanted to raise hell.

You weren't even meant to know yet. You were simply inside as you practically always were, sitting on the rug of the living room because Price still wouldn't let you sit on the couches. You had the remote in hand, volume turned down low and closed captioning on as not to alert Soap, who was just a couple rooms down the hall.

You technically weren't supposed to be messing with the television, but today was the date of the pageant you were supposed to be competing in—the one you were supposed to win—and like hell were you going to miss it. You had memorized the listing and channel of every broadcasting service that would be airing it ages ago.

So there you were, kneeling inches away from the TV with an anxious grasp on the remote and your tail nervously stiffened behind you.

You were checking out the competition, rolling your eyes at snooty faces you recognized, mumbling about how you would've presented that strut so much better had you been there. One could only imagine your confusion when you saw a new dog. A spry, sleek-coated Irish setter with a shockingly familiar handler guiding her along.

Your jaw dropped.

That was your handler.

"No!"

You didn't care about keeping the noise down anymore. You rose to your feet in a flash. That was Sergei. Handling another dog. But that didn't make any sense. Sergei only worked for your owners, and only presented you at pageants. Had your owners fired him? Surely not—you loved him! So then why was he handling this new dog?

And why was there a new dog at all? The participation slots were full. You should know, because you took the last one, and pageants didn't take understudies in the event that a dog didn't show up. If a dog wasn't there, then they weren't there. It just counted as a forfeit.

Still in shock, you raised your hand to clutch your proverbial pearls—but when your fingers met your neck, you became acutely aware of the similarities between what you felt, and what you were seeing on the screen.

Ruffles. Jewels. Lace. Leather.

She was wearing your fucking collar.

You didn't need to see Sergei walk the Setter up to your owners after the circuit to connect the dots—nor did you need to see them slip the blue ribbon over her head, hear your owners fabricate a tale about how you were so ashamed after winning silver that you couldn't bear to compete again, and selected Dolores to take your place, or even recall how they oh-so graciously let you out of the RV to let you "stretch your legs" only hours before Laswell found you on the road. It was clear as day.

There were so many urges bubbling within you. It was confusing and pissing you off. You wanted to yell. You wanted to break things. You wanted to unleash yourself.

And because your owners weren't here to drop a phonebook on your tail as a punishment—you did.

"You fucking bitch!"

The clasp of your collar flew off and landed somewhere in the room as you ripped it from your throat. Doing so fucking hurt, but you weren't going to bother being gentle with the accessory that keyed you as property of your traitorous owners.

Soap tumbled into the room, footfalls heavy and uncoordinated from having just been crudely awoken from a midday nap. He only caught a glimpse of you storming out the back door.

He rushed to follow, ready to pounce and bury his teeth into your neck and subdue you like he had in the past, because you weren't allowed to go outside without permission, nor without the Captain.

But he froze in his tracks when he saw you in the snow, having taken on your full canine physique and tearing into your collar—or what was left of it—with reckless abandon. Pearls and gems flew every which way as you bit down on the leather hard enough to make you gag, shaking it like it was small prey with the most vicious snarl he'd ever heard come out of you.

"Lass, what's—"

The collar went flying into the air, and landed a ways into the distance, among the trees that surrounded the clearing of the cabin. You were panting as if you had just run a marathon, body trembling as you stool still. Whether it was from the cold, adrenaline, or fury—he couldn't tell.

"They lied to me!" He heard you scream.

"Who lied t'ye, lassie?"

"They never entered me into the competition— they nev—" you cut yourself off with an enraged shriek. "They already had a replacement!"

Soap couldn't tell if you were talking to him or yourself.

You were out there for a while, howling with rage while Soap apprehensively stood a few paces behind you. Your animalistic war-cries were enough for Gaz to come bounding up the hill from the cabin's lay of snowy plains below, fully alert and looking around frantically to locate the source of distress—only to discover that you were the cause of your distress. Well, somewhat.

He wanted to feel satisfied and amused when Soap filled him in on what had happened, but he just couldn't. You, a sheltered cash cow from birth, had been thrown away and replaced for some trivial mistake that you had made in you last pageant—the only thing you were good at and good for just not being enough, when you lived to appease them.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for you.

You weren't having it, though.

"No! No, you shut up!" You clambered onto your feet, pointing a finger into his chest. He was about to snap back at you, but you spoke to quick for him to overlap.

"I don't need your damn pity. I need to be a dog."

He blinked, expression faltering.

"What?"

"My entire life—" you inhaled deeply through your mouth as you roughly wiped away streaks of tears "—I have been nothing but a pretty bitch that pays the bills, and if they won't even let me have that—then it ends now."

They both stand silently, waiting for you to continue.

"Teach me how to be a dog."

—

The 141 were made up of honest men—a rare commodity in this day and age. No matter how you felt about something, you always knew the truth, and none of them hid anything about themselves unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for you, that mostly just entailed them openly voicing how annoying they thought you were, or how you wouldn't last a day in the wild—but they stood by their word in the following weeks, re-training you to embrace your canine urges.

It started with a bath, oddly enough. You figured the first thing they'd have you do was dive headfirst into a pile of mud, but instead you sat calmly in the tub as Price rinsed out the shampoo with the handheld showerhead.

"Have to say, you take to bathin' much better than any of my boys."

You huffed with an indifferent grumble. As a human, Price couldn't understand you in your canine form, but he'd been around hybrids long enough to get a general idea of what they try to get across. Grooming days were part of your routine. Of course you loved baths.

Sure, this tub wasn't as luxurious as the small pools your personal groomer used to lather you up in, nor did it have the elaborate tools to ensure that your coat absorbed all the nurturing properties of your expensive shampoos—but those fancy trinkets could be bought by anyone lucrative enough. Not everybody could say they had John Price's large, calloused hands scrubbing dog shampoo into their fur.

"I'm sure this isn't the salon-quality product you're used to," he mentioned as the soap foamed and bubbled up under his touch, "but it does the job. 'Fraid you won't be seein' much of name brands anymore, though."

You were apprehensive when he approached you with shears after towel-drying you off, never having anyone but Sergei trim the ends of your coat before. Your past owners liked to keep your fur long and shiny, but even you knew that such a high-maintenance coat wouldn't survive out here, so to the scissors it went.

"Don't you worry, dove," he coaxed. "Just a little off the top, yeah?"

It was odd, seeing yourself in the mirror after the chop. Price clearly knew what he was doing. You should've known from the start that he was practiced with shears, if Soap's well-tapered coat was anything to go by. He had kept some of the original length around your legs and tail, but did away with the longer areas at your neck, chest, cheeks, and underbelly.

You stared at your reflection, head tilting this way and that as you inspected your new appearance. You were still plenty fluffy with rich fur—but you didn't have those mane-like tresses that required extensive combing and conditioning to keep healthy. Less of you was hidden by your fur, and you came to notice just how lacking in muscle you really were. You'd work on that with the 141 another time, you were sure.

You didn't look like a pampered show dog anymore. You were just… a dog.

It didn't bother you as much as you thought it would.

"How'd I do?" Price smiled down at you, letting a big hand ruffle your head—ears flopping from side to side with the action. You chuffed shortly through your throat, an unsure vocalization before barking at the mirror with your tail wagging.

He laughed in that deep, rumbling fashion, "Make sure to leave five stars."

—

Next was going to be getting you to give chase and sink your teeth into something with a beating heart, but when Soap watched you stiffly trot up to the back door with your neck and ears vertical, and your snout parallel to the ground—he realized that there was much more work to be done here before he sent you off into the neck of the woods. He could leave hunting up for someone else to take care of later.

"Bonnie… what in God's name are ye dooin'?"

"I—" You cut yourself off to turn and glare at him. "I'm walking, jackass. What else?"

Soap wouldn't be caught dead admitting it aloud, but he loved the new attitude you gave him. It was still pretty much the same you would give him before, but it came off in different waves. Your voice wasn't as high-pitched, your vocabulary was less prestigious and haughty, and your responses weren't so long-winded (they always included you rambling about how your "elite" mannerisms were the result of a proper, exquisite lifestyle that Soap was too roguish and brash to ever qualify for). Your mouthy habits now consisted of sass and snark he was used to from the military, and was quite fond of with his pack.

"Ye call tha' walkin'?" He practically gawked at you, half-joking. "Nah, lass. Change of plans. Gonna teach ye how t' strut proper."

So that's how you found yourself trudging through icy mud, body trembling as you braved the chilly winds that flew over the marsh Soap had dragged you down to. You yapped in disgust as a fish swam over your paw.

"Och, haud yer weesht, hen." Soap crowed from a grassy patch of the wetlands. "Keep yer head on snug. 'S no more than a wee minnow. Willnae bite ye, ah swear."

You turned to sneer at him, ears laid flat against your head as you squinted. It turned into an eyeroll when he split his mouth into a cheeky grin.

You were trying your best not to complain. You really were. You wanted to be a dog, and if this is what it took, then so be it. Even if it meant your fur was wet up to your knees and elbows.

"Price isn't gonna be happy, you know," you barked over the howling wind.

Soap leapt from one patch to the neighboring one. "On the contrary, I think he'll be right chuffed t' see ye gettin' yer paws dirty."

"After he just washed me?"

"Especially after he just washed ya. Shows 'im that ye aren't afraid of keepin' an image anymore."

Your tongue darted out to wet your nose as you contemplated his words. The breeze was drying.

"Okay, but… why are we out here specifically?"

Soap smiled and wordlessly leapt into the marsh with you—no care for his white coat at all—making you rear your head back as the murky water splashed too close to your face for comfort.

"Glad y' asked," he boomed, the volume unnecessary with how much closer he was to you now. "Y' ever seen a dog walk normally with slippers on?"

The question caught you off guard.

"I—" you blinked at him "…no?"

"Exactly. The water has the same effect. Weighs ye down, forces you to do what's comfortable." He demonstrated what he meant as he spoke by marching through the water, bringing each paw above the surface to avoid the resistance of the liquid when he stretched it forward to take a step. He stopped to face you.

"Go on, then," he urged, "give it a try."

The sensation was awkward and disorienting when you tried to walk. Your body was moving faster than the water would allow, and your feet couldn't match the pace you demanded of them—resulting in you tripping over nothing but sheer inertia, and falling into the foggy marsh.

Soap laughed above you as you stood up—water dripping from every part of you but your head and back.

"See what I mean? You cannae be marchin' tha' fancy canter o' yours when yer up to yer knees. 'S no' a parade, lassie. Here—just follow my lead. You'll be canterin' in no time."

—

It took near to a week's worth of treading the marsh for Soap to see genuine improvement in your gait, and a couple days more of sprinting across acres of land for him to be satisfied enough with his work. Price, as you expected, wasn't super jovial to see your freshly-washed coat dripping with mud the first time around, but it wasn't anything that a a hose-down outside the cabin couldn't take care of.

You learned how to avoid getting caught on your own feet as you got better at running, and as a result, had significantly less incidents that left you wet and huffy—but today, Soap decided he was in the mood to play, and tackled you into the wetlands like the overgrown teenager he was. It ended with both of you sopping wet and out of breath.

Ghost had hauled you off of him with his maw latched onto your scruff as you rolled around in the mud with Soap's ear between your teeth. He was huffily growling that Gaz needed you back at the cabin, and snapping his jaws at Soap when the Rough Collie felt ballsy enough to playfully nip at his haunches like the sheepdog he was—speeding off before Ghost could get the bright idea of pursuing him.

You found Gaz perched on top of the cellar doors on the side of the cabin—a dark, warm spot that got direct sunlight for every waking hour of the day. You could always count on him being there.

His eyes snapped open when he heard your noisy footsteps crunching through the snow.

"There you are," he huffed impatiently. "It's about time."

You returned his attitude with equal lackluster vigor, "You could've let me know you were looking for me."

"Sent Ghost to fetch you."

"Too proud to do it yourself?"

The Doberman slid off the wooden basement doors, paws landing on the snow with an imperceptible crunch. "If I switch focus, I'll loose the trail," he bluntly stated before starting into the mouth of the forest.

These men and their need to answer in riddles. "What?" You asked in exasperated confusion.

"You hungry?"

You sighed. And so the puzzle continues.

"What are you yapping about?"

He once again ignored your question and continued talking, "Hungry or not, I'm locked on to a scent right now and you need to practice hunting."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

"I thought Ghost would be the one to teach me to hunt."

"You want him out here instead?"

"No."

Gaz scoffed out a laugh at your snark, "Don't complain, then."

"I'm not," you defended, "I just… figured he was more suited for this."

"Yeah?" Gaz hopped onto a fallen tree that blocked his path and jumped down just as quickly. "And somehow I'm not?"

You opted to crawl under the log. "No, that not what I—"

"Ah, hush. Just taking the piss." His trotting gait slowed to a strut as you caught up to his side. "I get what you mean. Simon's a big dog, and an even bigger lad. Can't really picture him doing much else, can you?"

You gave it a moment of thought before agreeing, "Yeah… no, I really can't."

"I don't blame you, but don't doubt me, either. I was a guard dog back in my service days. Hunting comes naturally."

You applied what Soap taught you as Gaz's speed picked up again, trying to match his pace. "Well, it doesn't for me," you reminded caustically, "so what am I gonna do here?"

Gaz's docked tail twitched as he nosed you in a new direction. The top of his snout came into contact with the right side of your skull and he jutted his head forward, nudging your orientation westwards. You grumbled in discontent as the gesture caught you off guard, and threatened to knock you over. You stumbled to the side—in a lowered stance as your legs splayed out more to catch yourself—and sneered up at Gaz before trying to nip at his side. He easily shifted out of your reach, which made you more irritated than you already were.

"Stop that," he gruffed. "Just come here."

You wanted to ignore him and pettily plop yourself onto the snow you stood over, but you noticed that Gaz had stopped right in front of a large bush decorated with berries a few yards ahead.

"What's this?" You asked, regaining your balance.

"Huckleberry, originally, but there's mistletoe in there. Parasitic plant… don't eat it," he warned, as if you were actually planning on doing that. He urged you forward with another nudge. "Take a sniff. Really try to pay attention to what sets it apart from other smells."

Dubiously, you did as instructed; extending your neck to brush your nose with the flora. It took a moment for your nose to recognize and separate the fragrances, but as soon as you could clearly pinpoint the sweetness of the huckleberry and the bitter poison of the mistletoe—and hone in on the scent to lead you to other plants with the same arrangements—Gaz introduced you to various other scents and repeated the process.

By the the time that the next twenty minutes had passed, you were also able to identify buttercups, pine needles, shedded fur, a quail corpse, and Ghost's territorial markers. You were satisfied enough to call it a day, but Gaz apparently had other plans.

"Stop," he suddenly commanded, his voice hushed and tentative. The suddenness of it was enough to make you obey. He crouched down low until he laid on the bank, and you followed suit. "Look."

Curious, you lifted your head to see what had demanded such stealth from him, and felt your ears perk up upon seeing a white hare just a little ways off.

"Hungry yet?"

Instinctively, your tongue laved over your chops at the prospect of a meal. Soap's energetic roughhousing was a taxing endeavor to participate in.

"Yeah."

Gaz scooted back a bit to let you take the lead. "Then it's yours. You know what to do?"

You were half-listening. "Mhm. Yeah, of course."

"Show me."

Rising from the ground slightly, you paid mind to your pose as you kept your nose low enough to the ground to pick up on its most recent scent trail—just like Gaz taught you. You missed the way he spared a quick side-eye glance to you before doing a double-take.

"You keep that stance, and a lot of critters around here are gonna get the wrong idea," he remarked warningly—but his quieted voice had a faint distinction of amusement to it.

You didn't understand what he meant until you felt a pair of hands reaching to grab your hips and lower them to the proper crouching stance, bringing your ass down so you weren't presenting your doggish cunt to the world.

"The mud does good to hide your scent, but that'll only do so much if you give yourself away like that."

You could hear the double-entendre in the way he spoke, clearly not trying to be subtle, but you opted to ignore it plus—the heat crawling up your neck—regardless. He left a firm pat to your haunches before moving back and giving you the green light to strike.

"Impress me."

—

You had improved plenty over the past few weeks with the guidance of both Soap and Gaz—regularly having races and hunting sessions until your needs were sated. Price was a little more approving of you returning caked in mud, but only when you had dried blood crusting around your mouth on that first successful hunting session with Gaz. He especially loved it when you brought something back for him, whether it be a poor squirrel or the body of a rabbit. No matter what it was, he was there to praise your success and drag his nails through your fur appreciatively. He congratulated Gaz frequently for doing so well with teaching you.

The brunt of winter was quickly approaching, and with it came flurries and changes. Changes that occupied every edge and valley of your mind, turning your morals on their heads and skewing every coherent thought you managed to procure.

You had yet to know if Ghost planned to teach you something, but if you were being honest, you couldn't care less about what you were supposed to learn now. Not when you were hiding in a corner of the old, worn down sheep stable not too far from the marsh where Soap taught you how to run, staring at the phallic-shaped icicle hanging from the windowsill and contemplating whether or not frostbite was worth a sense of relief.

You see, here—you don't sterilize hybrids. It's unethical and outlawed in most countries. So, naturally, you weren't spayed, and naturally—

You went into heat.

Now, you knew it was inevitable. Your heat was completely unavoidable, just a thing of nature—but that didn't mean you dreaded it any less.

So that's why you buried yourself in clumps of aging straw in the hayloft, internal temperature far too high to be bothered by the biting winds that nipped at your exposure.

In the past, your heats were managed with toys, medications, hormone-balancing supplements, and being locked in your room for days on end.

This was your first heat away from your owners. This was your first heat without anything to ease or shorten the experience, and being so scared about what you could potentially do during the blindness of your desperation—you ran for the hills at the first sign of an episode.

You were still well within tracking distance, not wanting to get lost and become unrecoverable, but you hoped it was far away enough for the men to get the hint that you needed to be alone.

Now, was there any actual plan? Absolutely not. You had no provisions, no protection against the elements, and you were fully aware that a heat without any external aids could last over a week. In the moment you fled, the only thing on your mind was being a safe distance away from any opportunity to make a mistake.

And as you were now, hands trembling far too much to get a proper focus on your clit and whining embarrassingly loud—your body was cursing you for doing such a thing, but your dignity was gratefully intact.

"Bonnie!"

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

You couldn't bite back your whimpering keens, but rolled over onto your stomach to bury your noises into the scratchy hay.

"Bonnie," Soap called once more, "you in here?"

You couldn't reply through your breathless pants.

"Price is askin' fer ye, lassie," his voice echoed around the open space of the barn. "Didn't like ye pullin' tha' stunt n' takin' off, y'ken."

When there was still no reply, Soap took the liberty of trailing your scent with his nose—clambering his way up the ladder when your fragrance grew stronger. The heady weight of your overpowering scent punched him in the face once he reached the hayloft.

"Where'd y— fuckin' Criosd, thoir dhomh neart."

His hips bucked forward at the smell of you, popping a stiffie in mere seconds and greedily grinding the tent in his trousers against the rung of the ladder that was level with his groin.

"Oh, bonnie— 's this why y' scampered off?"

He found himself crawling over to your prone form, beginning to shake with the restraint he was exercising. Your following whine was enough to jut his pelvis forward again—the urge so demanding that his clothed manhood sought out a tight warmth that wasn't even there, and thrust down onto the wooden planks. He paused for a moment as his body worked on its own volition, rutting against the floor a for a bit until he could reign himself in again.

"You should've just told us, baby," he cooed. "We'd be happy to help ye."

Your body registered him as not your semi-friendly acquaintance-somewhat-past rival-packmate, but as someone capable of providing you with a knot, and your back involuntarily arched at the sound of his voice approaching from behind—exposing your pink, sobbing pussy to him, and her slick tears that coated the entirety of your inner thighs and ass.

Soap couldn't even think to stop himself before he dove headfirst into your slippery cunt, his sloppy tongue immediately reaching into your channel and ladling your bittersweet grool into his mouth—swallowing you in mouthfuls and slurping you up like a thick smoothie.

Your pleading moans pierced the air, and you drove your hips back into Soap's face—to which he pressed forward even firmer and gripped the sides of your upper thighs with a painfully horny grip, using his thumbs to split you apart further and rub harshly at your red, neglected, and engorged clit.

"Hidin' out here," he began after pulling away to catch his breath, seamlessly replacing his tongue with his middle and ring finger, "ain't th' way t' handle this, bonnie."

He grinned down at you as he humped the back of your thigh, fingers pumping into you with intensity and speed as he honed in on your g-spot.

"Y' gotta embrace every instinct, hen." — Dogs were animals. By dictionary definition, they were just another subspecies occupying the Animalia kingdom. And animals, in their barest form, were just a representation of the most basic needs that presented themselves in every breathing individual.

So with learning to be a dog—you had to learn to submit to your body's every whim.

Now was as good a time as any for Ghost to pitch in on training sessions.

After Soap had ripped an orgasm from you with deft fingers, he took you from the hayloft and left a squirt-soaked pile of hay in your wake. Now back at the cabin with the Scot laying back on Price's bed after he graciously pumped his semen into you three times over, he held you full-nelson style for his best bud while Gaz relentlessly hammered his hips into yours in the same manner he had been for the past ten minutes. You came time after time again—once achieving several climaxes in the span of a minute—but even with the amount of orgasms you had been given, your body only cried out for another knot, so you were far from finished.

Your head rolled back as his girthy cock pummeled your sensitive walls, but the Doberman forced your head back up with a grip on your jaw—patting your cheek twice before he and Soap simultaneously dived down to your neck and attacked the sides of your throat.

Even as Gaz tossed his head back with a throaty groan and emptied himself inside you, he didn't stop pulsing into you with the shallow thrusts that he was able to manage with the expansion of his knot.

The entire time, he and Soap fed praises and croons into your ears, remarking how perfect you were for them, how gorgeous you looked while so cockdrunk and needing.

It was only after two more generous helpings of Gaz's sperm did his knot deflate enough for him to slip out and roll next to Soap—but you still only had enough clarity to recognize Price's large, steady hands wiping your hair from your face. Being laid down on your stomach near the foot of the bed by your prior partner, you were eye-level with his bulge, and immediately took advantage of the angle.

"Hey— woah, there!" Price grunted when you shot forward to bury your nose into his loins, tongue darting out to simply mouth at whatever was available to you. He fisted your hair and pulled you away from his pants, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss onto your forehead. "I'm flattered, but I'm just a man. I can't give you what you need right now. Maybe another time, okay? Just be a good girl for my boys right now, love."

You could only whine desperately in response—mind still too scrambled to come up with words yet. Price pulled away, and called back to another, unseen individual in the room.

"Ghost. Come n' eat."

Everything between Ghost getting on the bed and tilting your hips up to mount you from behind was a blur, but you could really only focus on how this was the first time that Ghost was touching you properly. It turned you on more than it should've.

"So you wanna be a real dog, 's that right?"

His gravelly, rumbling rasp caught you off guard, but you managed to scrawl out a whimper that resembled "yes" as his brutish cockhead grazed over the folds of your weeping pussy.

"Well, real dogs don't go hidin' away from their pack when their cunt's cryin' out for a knot."

His tone turned condescending as he wound a fist in your hair, tip nudging your slick, used entrance.

"They come crawlin' to 'em on all fours, put that tight little pussy on display, and beg to be stuffed."

He punctuated his accusation with the full sheathing of his breathtakingly dense cock into your tight snatch—the wind being punched from your lungs as you practically felt his tip emerging from your throat.

"You say you're not a mutt, but look at you now; a victim to your instincts, just like any other bitch." — The room is filled with soft moans in the early morning, a lazy Sunday never being lazier as Price sweetly pumps his thick cock into the welcoming heat of your cunt in a spooning position.

The boys have long-since departed for their routine dawn patrol, but the soft-hearted Captain provided a comforting presence as he brought you gentle pleasure—his hand smoothing over the plump swell of your gorgeously rotund stomach; brimming with the promise of a healthy, capable litter of pups in the near future.

"Y'know," you spoke, voice light and airy as John's hand traveled further south to gingerly swipe at your clitoris, "if I'd known it'd take getting knocked up to be allowed in your bed—I'd have bent over for you lot much sooner."

He languidly laughed with you, pressing his lips to the space of skin beneath your ear in tender adoration.

"Every bed in this cabin will be forever available to you. I don't care which you choose in the night—so long as you're here with us, there's nowhere else I'd rather you be."

"Can't think of anywhere better, Captain."

[fillinforlater]

Phone Part 10: Return of the Angel +3

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Yeh Shuhua, Jung Eunbi (Eunha), Hwang Eunbi (SinB)

Length: 1550 words

Tags: strap-ons, lesbian sex, spitroasting, double penetration, overstimulation, loveless sex, voyeurism, watching, fingering thigh riding

TW: messy crazy bs

(A/N: this series randomly returns because I just needed to get this idea out of my system for good. This might be the conclusion to it, but probably not... well, maybe you send me some ideas to where this could lead up to.)

"I'll get going."

Bomi kisses your cheek, that sore cheek, sore like every patch of your skin, every bone in your body and every damn muscle, some of them you didn't even know could hurt before today. Hell, you don't even have the strength to give Bomi a proper goodbye, a weak wave is all you can muster up.

She'll not be mad at you. For what might have been either 15 or 150 minutes, you have taken turns on her and Shuhua's pussy—licking, fingering, fucking them until those tight caverns each got a big load in them. In the meantime, Minju has been their plaything. Especially Shuhua has this cruelty towards her "friend", edging her with fingers, reddening her thighs with extremely hard slaps and always promising that she'll get your cock—just to claim you with her pussy again.

You turn around when Bomi closes the door. Shuhua and Minju wrestle on the couch, the latter clearly outmatched when Shuhua puts her in a headlock with her thunder thighs. Minju tries to escape with licks on Shuhua's clit but can't find it—the nightmare of so many guys.

"Cut it out, you two," you groan, fingers on your temple. 

"N-no," Minju whines. "Minju still needs cock, wants cum in her tummy!"

"I can't." Point at your limp dick, absolutely spent. "And I have a headache. At this point, I’ll start to hate sex. Fucking hell, I'll make myself tea."

"Oh, I have an idea," Shuhua smirks and reaches for her phone while you leave for the kitchen. Whatever it is, you don’t want to deal with it. You need something relaxing, something herbal, to heal all the soreness in your body. It’s incredible to think that there is something like too much sex. You’re really close to giving up on it, even though two nymphomaniacs have turned your house into sex hub.

“No, no, stay down. You’ll get cock soon,” you hear Shuhua belittle Minju, who just whines in her usual tone. She seems to not be a bit tired after all this.

“Well, it won’t be mine,” you shout back, watching the hot water fill your cup and turn the leaves into something magical.

“Yeah, I know, you’re basically useless at this point.” Ouch, that stings. “That’s why I called back up.”

“You what?!”

“They should be here any minute now.”

Shuhua is spot on. Before your tea is finished steeping, your door bursts open. But instead of a hung man, two rather petite women enter your house. Both have a bored look on their face and immediately get to undressing. Overcoats seem to be the shit right now, and no matter who comes through your front door, they always drop it on the floor. 

“Uhm, hello?” you carefully greet them before remembering that this is your home, your kingdom! You can’t let strangers just walk in like they own the place. “This is kinda rude, you know?”

“Don’t care,” says the taller one with long, raven hair, dressed only in jeans. “We have business to do. Also, it’s rude to just stand there, naked, while two ladies walk in.” You blush and hide your crotch with the tea cup.

“We aren’t ladies, stop kidding yourself,” the other snarks back, while climbing out of her skirt. “I bet he is a good fuck, you shouldn’t kill your chances already.”

“Eh, I’ll think about it, but first—” Both girls suddenly pull out two strap-ons from God-knows-where and put them on with the casualness one would wear a fricking hat. The taller one hasn’t even removed her jeans, wearing the harness over it, while the other is fully naked and flaunts her butt at you.

“Yeah, I know, we got shit to do.” The short haired girl slaps her butt and you almost drop the cup when she walks past you with a wink. “Shuhua, where is this needy bitch? Or are you the needy bitch?”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Eunbi and Eunbi,” Shuhua greets them and points at Minju, still trapped in between her fat thighs. “Look who I found.”

“She is insatiable. Incredible that he can still stand,” the shorter Eunbi says.

“Hm, maybe he is a good fuck. Anyways, we’ll try our best to keep her down,” the taller Eunbi says. The three conspirators try to agree on a strategy on how to fuck the angelic girl. You’ve become invisible in your own house, your entry to the living room goes largely unnoticed. Except for Minju who pouts at you when the two Eunbis lift her up and put her in a doggy position. The shorter one is below her, the other is ready to press the plastic cock into Minju’s puckered hole.

"Should we do it at the—nevermind, you're already in." The small Eunbi groans in annoyance, the other looks unapologetic and starts to rut slowly against Minju's butt. The long shaft forcing open Minju’s hole, paired with the denim on her sore, pink buttocks, must feel incredible and incredibly painful at the same time. Who knows which of the two makes Minju wail and moan more.

"Come on, Eunha, shove it in her sex," Shuhua urges on the Eunbi below as she excitedly stares at the unholy sight of fake cocks on ready holes. Her eyes mimic the camera lens for a porn shoot, while you're the director, watching the scene play out. Either way, it's good content.

"Minju's pussy, Minju's ass, so full!" Minju is loud, louder than before. Shuhua is having none of it.

"Shut up. SinB, make her stay quiet. And don't let her cum."

Two hands move to cover Minju's mouth, two cocks move in and out at a rapid pace, two sets of eyes watch on in awe. Satisfied with what crazy madness she has come up with, Shuhua sits down next to you and lazily jerks your cock with two fingers. Oh, that victorious smile, glassy, lewd eyes, you'd love to wipe it off her face.

"You like what you see? Now you don't have to do anything anymore."

"What was that about me being useless?" Grab her by the throat and spit in her face. She looks pissed, you love it. "I came in you, even when Minju was willing to do anything to get my load and now you're still cruel to her? Seems mildly unfair."

"And what are you gonna do about it? Fuck her, if you can."

Shuhua is bratty, but just as much as she is bratty, she is also light. You easily place her nude frame on your thigh, her still dripping, creaming heat right on your skin. She hisses and you tighten your grip on her throat.

"I'm going to make you cum—you know I can, it's super easy—but only if you tell those two friends of yours to make Minju cum until she passes out.”

“Fuck, bastard,” Shuhua hisses. With your thumb on her clit, this is easily the quietest and tamest she has been for hours. Her body twitches, an honest reaction to how much she is addicted to the mind-blowing orgasms you can get out of her. Such a small finger, yet she is squirming, contemplating, faltering.

“Those two are so cruel,” you tell Shuhua, nose deep in her greasy hair. “They fuck her so hard, just to pull out at the last moment. Why do you want to torture Minju so bad?”

“Be-because she needs to get to the-the point.”

“What point?”

“The point where sex is no fun. She can go forever. She will never stop, your—fuck—plan to make her p-pass out, useless.”

This explains a lot. The Angel is insatiable, her lust seems infinite, but Shuhua’s plan—won’t it make things worse? At some point, SinB and Eunha will have to stop and Minju will be more desperate than ever. She will wobble through the house, tackle you the second she sees you and will force your cock in her pussy no matter what. A true tragedy.

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and tug at one of Shuhua’s nipples, she bites her fingers. “You’ve been too greedy, time for her to—”

“Fuck, fine.

“SinB, don’t hold back. Eunha, suck her tits, overstimulate this bitch!”

“What?” the two ask in unison and disbelief.

“Do-don’t ask questions, please, just do it!”

The way the two purple plastic cocks move in and out of Minju with the sole goal of too much pleasure has you satisfied and in a new heat, your cock hardening slowly but surely. With an ever increasing rhythm, you move your thigh up and down and Shuhua starts to ride, her loudness increasing again. She is as close as Minju and it only takes SinB pulling those messed up oak strands, you to rub Shuhua’s clit, for them both to explode. 

You focus not on Shuhua shuddering, shaking on you, but at Minju’s expression. Her eyes jump wide, then tears shoot out and flow down, just to be blocked by SinB’s hands on her mouth. She’d be so loud, words messier than her hair would fill the room. After this peak, both collapse. Shuhua meets the floor, Minju falls on top of Eunha, who still thrusts, even spanks the Angel’s ass. 

You’re hard again. Where is this going to end?

[bonebrokebuddy]

It’s time for a, “things I sent to my twin’s inbox but she said I should post myself because I never post my own work and she’d like if I stopped spamming her inbox with ideas but I forgot about it and just kept it in my drafts notes for months and now finally I’m posting the fucking things.”

Or for short:

DP X DC PROMPT #7:

————————————

Danny visits metropolis and people are deadset on believing that Danny is either Clark’s little brother or his nephew from Illinois… despite that Clark can literally not be related to him. Not that the people at the Daily Planet know that, but even the ones who do know are giving him a hard time.

“I’m adopted Jimmy!” Clark threw his hands in the air in frustration. “You are very aware of that.”

“But he looks just like you Clark, you even talk the same!” Jimmy peaked around the corner, catching a glimpse of Danny talking to Lois in the employees lounge.

“He has a upper midwestern accent. I’m from Kansas, Jim. Not all midwesterners know each other!”

“So?”

“Jimmy. You know damn well why we can not be related.” Clark subtly gestured to his cheap “I believe in aliens” mug. Jimmy was Clark’s best friend and most of the time he really appreciated the kid’s keen eye but Jimmy also seemed to be constantly dead-set on figuring how to give Clark a headache.

“But he looks like a mini you! Have you asked him if he has a spare spaceship lying around anywhere?” Jimmy snarked as he glanced over to Danny and Louis who were finally heading back from their break.

“Jimmy, I will put you on the moon and leave you there.”

“Alright sheesh. I get it, I’ll drop it.”

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 5)

A/N: MY OH MY. This tag list has grown so much it makes me so happy! Thanks to the anonymous ask, i indulged myself and added a little self care on reader being sick. It honestly comforted me.

Again you are all entirely welcome to send some heacanons, tropes or ideas to add to this.

and yes. You'll have the slowest burn ever.

YOU WANTED TO BE FLUSTERED? HERE YOU GO MWAHAHA

Warnings: some 18+ inuendos, swearing.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You were exhausted. It had been an awfully long week. To your demise, sickness had entered your ranks. Sergeant McTavish was first. Whaling like a wounded soldier every time he felt a cough erupting. The drama queen had soon infected the others. 

"We should have taken him out when I said to." 

You had rolled your eyes at Ghost's remark. 

Colonel Vargas was second. It had been slightly less complicated. He seemed to handle the flu much better. Gaz, he, had sung the song of his people with Soap, acting as if they've been shot. Though as per Price's comment, they complained far less when they had actually been shot. 

Of course they had all nested in the apartment, Ghost highly irritated, asking them to go die somewhere else where they wouldn't bother him. 

Being a medic had never been your dream. Yet you had to improvise yourself as a nurse for the week, giving medication and hot beverages to the wounded soldiers, or as you affectionately called them, pussies. 

Price had followed, he had acted as if nothing was wrong, the obvious raspiness of his voice betraying him. He had kindly refused your offer to take care of him, but gave in at the warm soup for dinner. Your best patient so far.

Now to your worst patient. Ghost. He had entirely avoided any care package thrown his way, resulting in a lot of bickering to the amusement of the rest of the healing squad. 

"Take your fucking meds." You said annoyed.

"Fucking make me." He dared. 

You threw him your most annoyed glance. 

"I will punch you." You threatened. 

"Sure thing gremlin, reach my face first." He answered in the same tone. 

You had kindly thrown every pillow in the living room at him, taking the one underneath soap's head, earning a 'hey!' from the agonizing man. 

He had still accepted warm beverages, and after a very long fight and a threat to get drunk again, he had taken his meds. 

It was finally over. Everyone was on the path of healing. Your duty was done. 

Unfortunately for you, on this fine Sunday morning, you woke up with a raging headache and a sore throat. 

You had been infected by the zombies. The game was over. You sighed. You had hoped very very strongly that you might escape the plague but the fight had been lost. You groaned as you sat up in bed. The warmth radiating from your body couldn't betray the obvious. You had a fever. You closed your eyes, cursing every baby man in the apartment because, OF COURSE, they were still camping around. Price was the only one who went back home for the night and came back in the morning to babysit his men. 

You tried to stand, grabbing the black hoodie laying on your desk chair. You'd be fucking damned if you gave him back his hoodie. And he'd have to deal with you stealing the others too. Throwing it on, you tried to walk out of your room, the men complaining in the living room were being way too noisy for your pounding head. Finally appearing in the doorway the men turned to you. 

"Oh god… you got sick." Price said. 

The look of annoyance on your face couldn't betray it. You walked to the counter where Ghost was eyeing you carefully. You stared into his eyes. 

"Johnny, make some tea." Ghost ordered, not dropping his gaze.

"Copy." Soap said jumping from the couch and jogging to the kitchen. 

"Gaz go get some meds" he ordered again. "Copy" Gaz spoke out loud, walking to the front door. You felt your cheeks color. 

"I'll go buy some snacks." Alejandro said, walking behind Gaz. 

"You should get her to bed." Price said, walking next to soap probably to stop him from burning the kitchen down. 

Ghost stood, extending his hand. You sighed before grabbing it, letting him walk you back to your room. 

"Get in bed." He ordered. 

"Like that? Not even a date first?" You teased dropping to your knees on the mattress. 

"Stop taking your fantasies for reality." He snickered. 

You let yourself slip under the covers again. He turned on the TV in your room, putting Netflix on. 

"Ghost…" you asked, unsure of what you're going to say next. 

He turned to you. 

"Can… you stay…?" You asked. 

"Can you give me back my hoodie?" 

"No "

"Fuckin hell…" 

So here you were. Cup of warm tea in hand, various snacks dropped around the bed, chocolate, candy, chips, sliced fruit and other things. Ghost laid next to you, slightly sitting against the headboard. Community was playing on the wide screen. It was peaceful. You, laying in bed, with your scary dog of a roommate next to you on the bed, his teammates half laying at the feet of the bed and around the room. 

You sighed of content. Price had to run off to get some things done, but he promised to drop by in the evening again. Your eyelids felt heavy, the sickness getting you tired. A large hand came to slowly grab the half empty mug from your hands, putting it down on your night stand. You tried keeping track of the show on TV or the boys commenting or snickering at the jokes, but your eyes were fighting against your will. 

It felt comfy. Warm. The man next to you seemed to radiate so much warmth. Your head had slightly fallen to the side, resting on his shoulder. You convinced yourself you'd close your eyes just for a minute. Just… a little… minute… 

It felt… good… comfy… against his chest… his arm… around you… maybe… you could… sleep… for a bit…

"Sleep little bunny… we're here." He whispered, finally letting you completely give in to your exhaustion. 

__

You groaned at the sound of someone repeatedly knocking and ringing at the front door. You peeked at the clock on your phone. 6:20 am. Who ? What? 

It couldn't be Ghost. He did go for his morning runs, but… maybe he had forgotten his keys? 

You got up, finally giving in. The knocking was non stop. 

"I'm coming! God! Just a minute!"  You yelled. 

The pijamas you were wearing didn't help the cold hair from making you shiver as you walked to the front door. 

You opened it, trying to focus your brain on what was happening. 

"Oh darling! I'm soooo sorry to wake you up but I really need you!" 

You stared at the woman in front of you. Sergeant Melisa Gallegos stood there. You had met her in one of the previous missions, you had gotten friendly with her. She was kind and sweet. You sometimes get coffee and gossip with her. That's how you had gotten to know each other. You had learned that she was a single mother of a 3 years old little girl named Amy. 

Which was sitting in her mother's arms, eyes fighting to stay open at the obvious early rise she had to go through. 

"I need you to babysit."

"What?" 

"I am SO sorry to ask you this. I have a big emergency at the base, and her babysitter is on vacation… " she explained. 

"But… I… I haven't taken care of a kid in a long time!" You debated. 

"You know Amy! She loves you, you did this before." She tried smiling at you. 

You stood before her, looking at her shift from one foot to another, and at Amy just begging to fall asleep. 

You sighed. 

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!!" She said, handing the little girl into your arms. 

"Wait!- I-" you tried. 

Unfortunately she had already dropped the two little bags in front of the door and ran off. 

You looked at the little girl in your arms, not bothered by the change of person. She did know you after all, you had already babysat for her a few times. 

"Alright little monkey. Let's go back to bed. It's way too early." You said, pushing the bags inside with your feet and closing the front door. 

When Amy had woken up again, it was around 9 am. You were fine by it as it was the normal time you'd wake up. You two had played a bit on the bed, tickling her, and creating stories with the little plushie she dragged around everywhere with her. 

After a good laugh you had decided to get up, peeking at your phone. One notification.

"I'm bringing breakfast, just got to pass at the base first. Be there at 10." 

Alright. Gave you time to get dressed with Amy and make her a hot chocolate, with the usual tea for you and him. You had walked into the living room, dropping her on the couch softly turning on some cartoons, leaving you to start on the beverages. You heard the front door unlock, Ghost walking in with the usual breakfast. 

"I got-" 

He glanced at the couch. Freezing on the spot. The staring match in between the toddler and the man in a skull balaclava was almost comical if you weren't so anxious of Amy's reaction at the masked man. You hadn't thought that she might be scared of Ghost. 

"Awe you a supew hewo?" She asked, eyes shining with happiness. 

Your heart melted on the spot. You smiled at Ghost who suddenly turned to you. 

"How the fuck did a kid spawn here?" He asked, confusion clearly visible in his eyes. 

You gasped ready to reprimand him from cursing in front of the child. 

"Fwuck!" 

You both turned to the toddler who had a wide smile on her face. 

"No. No. Nonononoo… Amy sweety no.." you freaked out a bit. God Melisa was going to kill you. 

You walked to the toddler kneeling in front of her. 

"Darling, that's a bad word… only grown ups can use it… alright?" You tried to explain. Throwing a dark look at the man still standing at the doorstep. 

"Ok!" She happily conceded. 

You smiled. 

"Perfect! Do you want to meet the big man?" You asked. She frantically nodded. You picked her up, walking around the couch to stand in front of Ghost who looked almost terrified. 

"Amy, this is Lieutenant Riley. You can call him Ghost. He's my roommate… hum, my friend!" You explained. 

You turned to ghost who's eyes shifted from the child to you. 

"Ghost. This is Amy. She's my friend's kid, and I had to babysit at the last minute. She'll be spending the day with me." 

He nodded. 

"Why you wwear a mask?" She asked. 

He frowned for a second. 

"Hmm… it's for my job." He answered. 

"Can I touwch it?" She asked, extending her little hand. 

Ghost stared at it for a few seconds before looking back at you. 

"Hum, sweety, maybe-" you started trying to defuse the situation. 

To your shock he stopped closer, lowering his face, letting the little girl touch his mask. His eyes were on you, and yours were glued to his.

What was that funny feeling spreading through you? The burning sensation coursing through you? God.. 

The little girl giggled. Before letting her hand drop. 

She then turned to you. 

"Can I watch SpongewBob?" She asked. 

You cleared your throat. Looking away embarrassed. 

"Of course darling. We'll prepare breakfast." 

You turned away, walking back to the couch and sitting her down, leaving her to watch 'SpongewBob' on tv. 

You walked to the kitchen Ghost closely following you. 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting -" you began in a low voice.

"It's… ok. It was surprising." He whispered back.. 

God, why was he so close to you? Why were you so HOT?! 

"I'm not used to kids." He admitted. 

"It's alright. I'm the babysitter. You don't have to stay." You smiled. 

"Didn't we have to go grocery shopping?" He reminded you. 

You closed your eyes at the sudden realization.

"Oh… fu-.. I mean… yeah… I forgot." You said. 

"We can take her. It'll be ok, right?" He asked. 

"Why wouldn't it be?" You questioned back. 

"I don't know. It's not too cold for her?" He asked. 

God can he stop being so FUCKIN cute?! You bit your lip, keeping the wide smile from being too visible and failing miserably. 

"She'll be fine." 

Breakfast had been, calm. You were thankful that Amy was one of the calmest kid's you knew. She was well behaved, calm, and sweet. She was, unfortunately for Ghost, extremely curious. And again, to his dismay, she had taken a liking to him. She had been fascinated at the way he raised his mask to his nose to eat. 

His lips were one of the things you were used to. 

To SEE. USED TO SEE. 

On another hand, Ghost had seemed very thoughtful during the morning. 

He had eclipsed himself for half an hour while you battled with the toddler to get both of you ready to go grocery shopping. She kept questioning everything, sometimes wondering about things that never ever crossed your mind. You found it funny. It was incredibly adorable. 

Zipping her little coat, making sure she had her scarf, you received a text from Ghost. 

"I'm here." 

You walked out of the door, the little girl holding your hand as you were walking down. You made sure to walk down the stairs at her pace, eyes never leaving her, too scared she might fall even though her tiny hand was secured in yours.

You pushed the building's door to the underground parking lot where you immediately saw Ghost, arms crossed over his chest, all dressed in black leaning against his black jeep. Amy squealed as she saw him. Jumping. 

You smiled. You walked to him. 

"Where did you go?" You asked. 

"We were missing something." He said.

"Really? What?" You inquired, confused. 

He moved, opening the back door. You blinked. A FUCKING CAR SEAT. You closed your eyes, sighing. 

"Thank you… it had completely escaped my mind…" you apologized. 

Amy had let go of your hand, skipping her way to Ghost, hands up in the air for him to pick her up and sit her in the back. 

Ghost froze. You were quick to make a move but you stopped as he slowly bent forward. You stood there in shock, watching him pick up the child. She was so small in his arms.

Fuck… was this awakening something in you? 

He sat her very softly in the car seat, being extremely careful to make sure she wouldn't hit her head. He moved as if Amy was a little porcelain doll. You saw him fidget to buckle her up, again surprising you. The little 'click' was heard, and he pulled a little on the belts, making sure it was safe. Amy was holding her little plushie babbling about whatever new thing she had learned this morning to the soft thing.

Ghost looked back at you, leaning on his arm  against the car. As if taking your opinion on his handy work. You bit your lip. And his eyes fell on the movement, forearms flexing. 

"Thanks…" you whispered. 

"You're welcome." He answered voice deeper than usual. You finally moved, opening the passenger door, he closed the back door making sure Amy didn't have her leg or arm in the way. You sat in the front, Ghost closing your door behind you. 

You took a deep breath. Amy seemed to be enjoying herself, not at all weary of her new environment. Ghost took place in the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt as well. You watched his movements as turned on the vehicle.

"Ghost…" you called. 

He looked at you. 

"Did you… buy a car seat?" You asked. 

"Yes." Was all he said, attention turning back to his task. 

You pushed the Shopping cart where Amy had taken place. Ghost followed you as you tried to remember what you needed. The grocery store on the base was a good thing. It avoided having civilians staring at Ghost. At least here, everyone knew who he was. The fact he was with a woman and a child though, that, caused many to stare. 

The fact that Amy was a little blond, curly haired girl, that was incredibly close in color to Ghost's eyelashes also made everyone stare. 

You tried to focus on the task at hand, Amy and Ghost not caring at all about the rest of the people in the store. 

She kept pointing at things, asking Ghost to explain what It was. It made you smile. The way he was willingly letting himself be questioned by the little girl. 

"Oh, i forgot…" you mentally cursed yourself. 

Ghost looked at you. 

"Can.. you stay with her for a few minutes? I'm sorry… I forgot to grab something." You asked with a sorry look..he nodded. 

You smiled at him before turning around and walking out of the aisle, hurrying up.  As you scanned the new aisle your phone rang. Rummaging through your pocket you grabbed it. It was Amy's mother. 

" Hey! How's everything going?" She asked. 

"Everything's fine. Your daughter met Liteutenant Ghost Riley." You teased. 

"...what?" She asked. 

"Yeah, he's my roommate." You spoke, still searching for the damn thing. 

"... And… is everything going ok?" She asked with a little worry in her voice. 

"Everything is fine…" you sighed " she likes him more than me, and he acts as if she's made of glass." You said. 

"Oh! Thank god! I was worried she might be a bit much for him." She chuckled. 

"Well he's not used to it, but he's extremely patient with her." You reassured. 

"Alright, I might pick her up late… I'm really sorry…"

"It's ok. You owe me though." You teased. 

"Ok, fair." She laughed. 

You bid your goodbyes, her having to rush back to work, and you worrying about leaving Ghost and Amy alone too long. 

You walked back to the aisle you had left him, finding them nowhere. You frowned. You walked around the aisle, suddenly feeling the anxiety coursing through you. What happened? Why aren't they here? You stopped as you turned left into the biscuits section. 

You let out a sigh of relief.

"Ghost!" You walked to him. He turned to you not bothered at all by the situation. 

"I've been looking for-" 

You interrupted yourself as you looked at Amy. 

"Ghost. Why does she have a doll?" You asked.

"She asked for it." He replied. 

You looked at the cart. 

"She also asked for the plush, the Legos and the ponies?" You glared at him.

"Yes." He replied again, as if the situation was completely fine. 

"Ghost. You can't buy her that." 

"Yes I can." 

"No! You can't give her everything she asks for!" 

"Yes I can. She asked nicely. She said please." He explained turning back to lean on the cart. 

"That's not an excuse!" You scolded. 

"It's my money." He concluded. 

Amy smiled widely, hugging the box the doll was in. 

You stood there mouth slightly open, shocked from the situation. 

She had him wrapped around her finger! You rolled your eyes. This was a fight you wouldn't win. You headed for the cashier's, ready to ring up everything. Amy was thrilled with her new toys. Walking back to the car, you dropped the groceries in the trunk, Amy already had her doll out of the box as she had 'asked nicely', and ghost had ripped the box apart to give it to her.  

He had let you buckle her up this time. You headed back home. Stopping at MacDonalds on the way home because, once again, 'she had asked nicely'. 

"Stop spoiling her Ghost!" 

"No." 

Ghost parked in the parking lot. You both got out of the car. You opened the back door, looking at the little girl. She had fallen asleep on the way home. She hadn't liked waking up early, and it was almost time for her nap. You stood there for a little while watching her sleep. She was so cute. You didn't want to wake her up. 

The breath on your neck made your hair stand, as he whispered in your ear.

"Do you want me to pick her up…" 

You held your breath. He was in your back, cornering you, arms on each side, leaning down. 

You slowly looked to your left, planting your eyes into his. Time froze. You were so close. You could feel his breath though his balaclava on your lips. He frowned. Eyes shifting to said lips. 

"You're always biting your lip…" he noted in a low voice. 

Were you? You didn't even realize you were doing it now. 

"Does it bother you?" You hushed back. 

"It makes them… red." He stated awkwardly. 

"Does it?" You asked. Of course it did. You could see his brows furrowing.

"Makes me…want-" he started, almost growling. 

You were hanging on to his every word. Heat pouling dangerously deep in your stomach. 

"Why does it make whem red?" The little voice made you both separate instantly. Ghost taking a step back.  

You cleared your throat, looking at Amy. 

"Hum… well… hum… it's… complicated. I'll explain another time, ok?" You tried, clearly blushing. 

"Ok!" She smiled. 

God. Keeping children was hard.

The day had gone by pretty fast. You ate lunch, Amy napped leaving you and Ghost time to work a bit. You two were acting as if nothing happened.  On your part at least you were obviously embarrassed. 

After she had woken up, she insisted on playing with her new Legos. You had moved the coffee table to the side so you could play on the carpet with her. Ghost was sitting on the couch, legs spread, reading a report, occasionally looking at you playing with Amy. Once in a while Amy turned to him proudly showing off her constructions. 

Each time he praised her with a little, 'that's really nice, you did good', it made your heart flutter. 

He was so kind, so gentle with her. 

You could feel his gaze on you when you weren't looking. It burnt through you. 

After a while you had dinner, and put on a Disney movie for her. You sat on the couch with her on your lap cuddling her new teddy and her old plushie. She rested against you. Ghost joined after finishing his report. 

"Move." He asked. 

You frowned. He sat next to you, making you lean on him. You blushed. 

"Are you really gonna watch Encanto?" You teased. 

"You'd rather I go away?" He asked, looking down at you intensely. 

You didn't say anything at all. 

The more the movie played the more Amy seemed to close her eyes. It was getting pretty late. Around half of the movie she was sound asleep in your arms. You smiled down at her, brushing a little strand of blond hair away from her face. 

"Fuck…" 

You looked at Ghost meeting his gaze. 

"Is everything alright?" You whispered. 

He stayed silent. 

"Ghost..?" You asked frowning. 

"What are you doing?" He asked. 

"What.. Do you mean?" You whispered.

"To me…" he finished furrowing his brows in confusion. 

You sucked in a breath, but before you could say anything, a knock on the door made you separate. It took a little moment for him to gather himself and get up to open the door. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. A few seconds later, Melisa walked in. 

"Hey!" She whispered to you, walking to where you sat. 

"Hi, how was work? " You hushed back. 

"Hell… but we made it… I'm so sorry to have dropped her off like that…" she said, the sincerest sorry look on her face.

"It's alright Melisa. I understand, and I don't mind helping you out. Amy is adorable." You reassured. 

She smiled at you, feeling slightly emotional by the look on her face. With the utmost care, you gave her the sleeping toddler. 

"I'll help you with the bags." You told her, getting up the couch with her. Looking around at the toys scattered around and then to the new plush she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Did you buy her all of this?" She asked. 

"No. He did." You said pointing at the man leaning behind the kitchen counter. 

It was absolutely ridiculous to say that the man, in all black, with a mask made of a human skull, with the most terrifying glance you could fall on, had bought so many toys for a toddler after she had simply said 'please'.

You both walked to the doorstep as she stopped in front of Ghost. 

"I'm sorry lieutenant.. I hope she didn't make a fuss. I'm very thankful to you both for keeping her… and for the toys." She said. 

"No problem. She's a nice kid." He said. 

You smiled at him, he noticed. You grabbed the two little bags and followed Melisa out, walking down the stairs to her car. 

"He's pretty nice actually, for a cold blooded killer he is reputed for." She remarked. 

"He's still a terrifying man, who sticks up to his reputation by the reports of missions I've seen. He's just… calmer, here." You said. 

She had put Amy into her car seat. 

"He bought her… a car seat." You said. It sounded more like a thought coming out of your mouth, as if for yourself, it was still something your brain was trying to process. 

"He did? Just… for today?" She asked. 

"Yeah. We went to the store, and I guess he was worried for her safety, and immediately went out and bought her the car seat." You explained. 

Now you remembered how he seemed deep in thoughts during breakfast. He had been thinking about it. 

"Well. He seems like a good man." She said softly, closing the back door. 

"Yeah.. you're right." You smiled at her. "I trust that this stays in between us." You asked. 

"Don't worry. I wouldn't say anything that involves my daughter to anyone. This situation stays knowledge for us only." She assured. You knew that she was extremely worried to have her child on the line. Unfortunately, it's part of the job to earn enemies, and everyone wants to keep their loved one away from it. 

Melisa thanked you again as you handed her the bags. You offered to take care of Amy if she ever needed again. After hugging her goodbye, you headed back up to the apartment. 

Locking the front door behind you, you walked into the living room where you saw Ghost, holding what now seemed to be his favorite mug, standing behind the counter.

"You look tired. You should head to sleep." He remarked. 

He was right. You were tired. Taking care of a child wasn't easy, you were glad for his help. You walked up to him, you saw him stiffen. 

"Thank you Ghost. Your help was really appreciated. And I had an amazing day. Amy adored it. So… again, thank you Gh-"

"Simon." He interrupted. 

You blinked. 

"Wh-what..?" You whispered. 

He stepped closer, barely inches away.

"My name. It's Simon." He clarified. 

Your mouth opened. Then shut itself again. 

Simon. 

"(Y/N)." You blurted out. 

His eyes flashed something unknown. 

"(Y/N).." he whispered, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. Your name, on his lips. Fuck…

"Simon…" you whispered too. 

You felt his fingertips rush to your hip, hovering there, too close yet so far. After a second he lowered his hand back to his body. 

"You're welcome. It was a good day." He added. 

You nodded, smiling at him, trying to hide the obvious way your heart was racing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched him step back, gaining some composure. 

"Goodnight (Y/N)." He said. 

"Goodnight Simon."

----

@lemontails @cabreezer0117 @tomhardy41 @brxghtixghtz @shuttlelauncher81 @pinkdazelight @sirenbunnyloll @snortangeldust @novausstuff @gasstationfifacard @emotion-not-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @simpforavillain @minimisthios @catied32 @poohkie90 @watermaylon-writes @thereealink @meimhem @sorryi-mtrash @gaymistakeboii @bittersw33t-lotus @gh0stm3g @freckledmuffin @itsasecrets-things @xback1021 @connierk690 @feedthefandoms995 @friendlyneighboorhoodgothicpagan @dead-noodles @friendly-reject @critter-mylo @honeymariee @badame0224 @kitty-satan1 @all-good-things-have-an-ending @tianotfound @thriving-n-jiving @hailstrum18 @kiruoris @thats-s0-ravenn @orcasarebigbabies @makastaco @abajointrossyearl @kaylynninice24 @cated18 @swg141 @ghost-2513 @whore4dilfs @yggrid @jaehyacinths @juneitoo @popevickysmainbitch @topgirl17

[maxsimagination]

𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 - 𝗸.𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆-𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀

warnings: mutual pining

----

"so when are you and kyra gonna start dating?"

i was caught completely off guard at that statement by charli. "huh?" all the eloquence left my body when i responded. "you and kyra. we all see it. you two make heart eyes behind the others' back all the time."

i could feel the blush creep onto my cheeks and around the nape of my neck. "i don't know what you're on about." it came out as a mumble but charli heard me.

"y/n i can see you blushing. can you just ask her out already? the amount of times i've had to listen to her harp on about you is giving me headaches." i didn't know what to say to that either. "she talks about me?" charli looked dumbfounded that i picked up that piece of information out of everything else.

"yes, now can you please go and kiss her to shut her up?"

"you first. i'm not kissing anybody." it was then that kyra herself came over to join us, and had caught the last bit of what i had said. "who's kissing who?" "nothing, no one." i immediately shut it down and charli couldn't seem to find anything funnier. "so i'm gonna go now.." charli started to walk off.

"charlotte layne grant!" my voice held a warning for her that she knew she cop later. she didn't seem to care tho and ran off with a cheeky grin on her face.

me and kyra were left there, the latter not knowing what was going on. "what the fuck?" kyra whispered out at what had just occurred in front of her. "charli likes to screw around with us." i attempted to explain to my best friend of 5 years. a grin broke out on her face as she understood what i was trying to say.

"you got that right. wanna go to lunch with me?" i agreed happily and we headed for her car. what we didn't know was that charli had recruited katrina and they were both watching us from afar.

we went out to a local cafe and i took a seat at a table while kyra went up to order for the both of us; we did this together that often that she knew what i liked off by heart. she came to sit back down and the food followed soon after. we couldn't eat too much because we had training later on in the day.

it was a comfortable silence when we ate, and small talk about anything and everything when we weren't. i just felt so comfortable around her, she was the one thing in my life that i would sacrifice everything for, even my career.

we were in the middle of talking about something we'd both seen on the media, i had pulled out my phone to show kyra, and i saw her looking at me in the corner of my eye. as charli would have put it, she was making 'heart eyes' at me.

i thought back to the conversation i had with the young blonde earlier and her words echoed in my head. 'we all see it.' and 'you both make heart eyes at each other when the other isn't looking.' it got me thinking that maybe i should take that next step, maybe i should take a risk and ask her out.

my anxiety pulled my mind back down to reality, reminding myself of what could happen if she in fact didn't like me like that. everything would be ruined, the team dynamic and the bond we have going for over 5 years. and everyone would know. that's the last thing i needed. i looked back up to kyra who had just finished her food while i, on the other hand, was only halfway due to my daydreaming about the girl sitting opposite me.

"whatcha thinking about?" you. "oh nothing. just got distracted by something outside." i lied through my teeth to her face, i couldn't tell her now. i needed to at least get through training. then if she hated me i could pack up and move to england again.

we finished up, more like i finished while kyra waited patiently, then paid for the food and went back to the hotel the matilda's were staying in. i didn't even bother to go to my room, it was always one of us in the others room and this time it was my turn.

i flopped on her bed, starfishing in the middle, and taking up all the space. "y/n move, i wanna lie down too." i shuffled over and held my arms out for her to fall into. she did just that, falling down onto me face first. we stayed like that for god knows how long before i checked the time and had a mini heart attack that we would be late. "i don't wanna leave."

"if we don't go, tony will skin us and drop us off the team." my tone was serious but my face betrayed how i felt.

with a groan she got off me and i grabbed my phone to go get changed in my room. "i'll come back to get you." i called out behind me and closed the door. as soon as i got into my own room i grabbed the first pair of any training gear i saw, changed the quickest i've ever changed and headed back to kyra's room.

it had only been 5 minutes, tops, so i knocked before hearing a barley audible 'come in!' and opening the door. kyra poked her head out from the bathroom and grinned at me. "geez, your quick. that desperate to get back to me, huh?"

i rolled my eyes at her antics, "you wish, ky." i shot back at her. "hurry up, let's go." she yelled back saying she was coming then ran back out to get her shoes on. we left to head down to the field where training was held. when we walked in together, both katrina and charli raised their eyebrows at me in a teasing manner.

i just flipped them off discreetly, trying not to catch kyra's attention.

——

we had just finished doing the last lap tony had ordered and i flopped onto the ground. the other girls were walking around, everyone was sweating their asses off and some had gone to the changing rooms already. kyra came over and stood above me with a sweaty grin.

“are you dead yet?"

"shut up, ky."

i managed to get out. she held her hands out for me to take and i did. when she pulled me up i came face to face, only an inch away from her. our hands had instinctively gone to my waist and her neck.

my eyes flicked down to her lips then back up to her eyes, just in time to see her doing the same to me. i thought back to charli and decided fuck it. "ky, do you wanna be my girlfriend?" it was silent for a second then kyra broke it and kissed me. i reacted instantly, kissing back and pulling her tighter against me.

she did the same with her arms around my waist, one of her hands trailing down to my ass, just resting there. we pulled apart and breathed heavily before i spoke up.

"so i'll take that as a yes?" before she could respond there was a shout from across the field. "finally!" it was katrina and charli, the latter being the one that yelled. "i knew you could do it y/n!" while katrina just stood their smirking, even throwing out a wolf whistle. i shook my head at the two and turned back to kyra.

we grinned at each other and i whispered,

"finally."

[heartfullofleeches]

Fast food reader having a yandere manager/boss??

What type of shenanigans do they get to and why do I picture the yan manager calling in the reader to their office and when the reader comes in the manager is laying on their desk in a certain "draw me like one of your french girls" pose with a rose in their mouth??

Oh God. Please not today. Standing stationary at your post, you dread the upcoming encounter with the customers next in line. The duo whisper loudly to each other, one nudging the other as they glance over in your direction. You pick up some words of encouragement over the conversation you're currently involved in and are fairly certain the piece of paper in their hand is signed with a heart. Why do so many people think this is a good idea? You hand the customer their change and ponder whether it's too late to switch to retail as the next guests approach. The one holding the note goes first. They slide it across the counter.

"Hey, uh, I've seen you in here during my lunch breaks and was wondering if yo-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. You're not even the fifth person who's given me their number this week. I'm not sure if you're one of the normal one or the kind who tries to stuff me in their car after I get off, but either way you should probably leave before my boss comes."

The customer looks dejected, but their friend steps in. "You didn't have to be such an ass about it."

"I'm only trying to warn you, and save myself the headache. They polish a hunting rifle in their office with the door wide open and I'm about sixty percent sure majority of the people on the missing persons board are the ones from this exact scenario. I'd ask if you want to order anything, but you should probably just leave. They're always watching the cameras."

"Gooood afternoon."

Well- You'll be able to sleep tonight knowing you did your best.

"I was just checking in on things, and happened to notice the line forming behind the two wastes of space who decided to harrass my favorite employee."

One of customers opens their mouth to speak, but your boss quickly shuts them down."

"Mmm, yeah, sorry- I hear you, but to be honest I don't really care. Here at this establishment, we always strive for customer satisfaction, but employee safety is the most important thing and to bother our most valued member means I don't have to abide by any rules. Moral or otherwise. Kindly get the fuck out of my store before I make you crawl out."

"I'll take this." Your Boss picks up the slip of paper and gives them their best customer service smile. "Have a nice day!"

That smile becomes just a tad genuine as the customers bolt for the door. Your boss turns to you, pulling you from your focus on the cash register as they check you for any damages. Besides the beginning of bags under your eyes, you're relatively okay. Their shoulders finally relax seeing you unharmed."

"Good. In perfect condition like always." They gently pat your cheek. "My office. Ten minutes. Don't worry about the ones you can get to."

Stocking shelves can't be much worse than this, right?

The ten minutes go by in what feels like ten seconds. The door is wide open when you arrive. Your boss has already added the note to their collection in a jar on their desk, a red line through the pages you could see. Your picture hangs on the wall in multiple frames marking you as employee of the month for years with no competition. According to coworkers, that award didn't even exist before you were hired.

You knock on the door frame. Your boss lifts their feet off the desk and shoves them underneath it along with their aforementioned weapon. They sweep the surface clean with the same rag they used to clean it as you approach and politely folds their hands as you take your seat.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you to my cozy neck of the woods?"

"You called me here."

"Well - yes, but I like to think we're closer than that. Like family. Heads of the household if you will. I understand most of your time here has been manning the register, but with all this attention you've been getting I think we should move you somewhere else. I'm not jealous or anything..."

They crack a guilty smile." Well, maybe a smidge, but this is mostly for your own good. Something like keeping eye on the stock or working the fryers... Maybe even something as simple as, oh I don't know- coming home with me and letting me take care of your every need."

You think over your choices. That cafe down the street is probably hiring.

[luvring]

I LOVE YOU (NOT IN A CLICHÉ WAY)

akaashi x gn!reader | a love letter from him to you! i forgot i wrote this for myself as a supposed birthday surprise so. i guess that worked out for me

the thing about clichés is that at some point, you stop feeling anything at the sight of them.

yearning, infatuation, love so tender and whole that it wrapped around someone completely and sunk deep, deep, deep into their skin and bones, into their veins where they felt it was the same as the oxygen already flowing through—i need you like i need air to breathe.

the same idea repeated over and over until the point of akaashi’s current existence—where he sits, favourite blue gel pen in hand, with at least seven crumpled pieces of paper in the bin next to his desk and the light of his lamp more of a headache than anything—until it no longer feels like enough for whatever he feels for you.

he curses every film and novel for making oxygen too little, too mundane of a comparison for how fundamental you are to his existence.

five hours. five hours he’s been sitting here, reading poetry and writing drafts and bullet points of what he wanted to say, utterly failing at writing a single coherent paragraph. but he couldn’t afford to fail, not this time. this birthday was more important than any other before—it was the first of your birthdays together as a couple.

definitely not the first together, period. keiji thinks if he didn’t meet you when he was thirteen, he’d have turned out to be someone completely different.

and after so many years, everything about you came naturally to him. it was to the point that other friends and acquaintances had come up to him before with questions about gifts for you. you already had a mug with that design, you weren’t a fan of the shirt’s texture, and you could be picky about art of that character, but he could send some of your favourite artists for reference. the person who knew you best, second to no one but you, was akaashi keiji.

he has been since you were fifteen years old.

so the fact that he’s sat here for hours, failing, is a blemish on his record.

he refuses to call it a phenomenon because that word makes it seem so grand, when in reality his situation makes him so incredibly frustrated it was more of a curse. it was an ugly, annoying, unbelievable stain on his identity and soul because for fuck’s sake, shouldn’t it be easier now as your boyfriend?

not only does he know your different laughs and the way your lips wobble while you try to hide it, now he knows how it feels when you try to stifle the noise in the crook of his neck, a smile pressed against his skin. he knows the feeling of your fingers intertwined between his while walking through the farmer’s market, and raking through his hair after he’s showered while it’s soft and fluffy the way you adore. he knows the taste of your favourite lip balm against his lips, what it sounds like when you hum or giggle as you’re pressed against his body and your arms are wrapped around his neck. he could pick you out in a line up of people blindfolded if asked, just by the way you hugged him.

it should be easier for him than anyone else, because you weren’t just his oxygen—you were part of him.

but even that was another cliché.

keiji lets his head hit the desk, hands coming up to pull at the roots of his hair while a loud groan escapes his lips.

“should i learn how to bake?” he mutters to himself before grimacing. “watch me bake a cake and give the love of my life food poisoning. incredible plan. what the hell is in a cake? what would i even put on it? awful cursive lettering?”

no one talked about the pressure that came with the first birthday in a relationship. why is this not a more pressing specific situation for newly dating people? why did no one tell him he’d feel like a heavy rock rested on his chest at the thought of disappointing you not only as a friend but as a boyfriend. he thinks he could die.

he can’t, won’t, die, but you’ll get home from your friend’s place in only a couple of hours and he’s running out of time (not really. he’s doing this a week early, but he set a schedule for himself and it’s the principle of the thing.)

“fuck it,” he murmurs. “whatever, whatever. let what happens happen, and if it’s bad i’ll just…internally die.”

resolute, keiji puts his pen to the page and starts writing before the ink can bleed.

hi.

i’ve written drafts of this too many times already. maybe i shouldn’t tell you that so it seems like i’m a natural romantic, but it probably doesn’t surprise you that i’ve crumpled up a lot of paper in the last couple of hours because i tried avoiding being too cliché. but if i’m being honest i love you so much it feels like a cliché in and of itself. so i guess i’ll just lean into it and write whatever comes to mind.

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you.

i love waking up to you every morning. i love cooking breakfast with you. i love wearing the “kiss the chef” apron kuroo gave us so i have an excuse to ask for a kiss on the cheek, even though i know you’d kiss me without it.

i love listening to you talk about your day and seeing the photos you took with friends. i love when you send me pictures while you’re out and ask what i think about your outfit. sorry i’m bad at knowing what to say, i’m really not lying when i say i think you always look nice. i know that isn’t super helpful when you’re being indecisive, but i hope i’ve gotten better over the years? i feel like i have but if you want to disagree i guess i’ll accept since it’s your birthday.

i love when you ask if i want to go out somewhere with you. i love sending you places and things i think you’ll enjoy. i love seeing how excited you get and i love surprising you with them a few weeks later. i love seeing our gifts for each other and souvenirs around the apartment every day i come home.

i love taking care of you, even when you think i shouldn’t, when you think you’re a burden for me. i’ll do the chores when you’re tired. i’ll get in the bath with you and wash and dry you, no matter how long it takes. i’ll dress you if you ask me to, let you steal my bracelets and slippers when you want them. i’ll make sure the bed is cold but the blanket is warm so you can cuddle beside me. i love being the person you come home to, and i hope i make it worthwhile every time.

you’ve always been there to remind me you love me, even when i think you shouldn’t, that it’s impossible that you do. so i hope you know i feel the same way about you, that i’ll love you despite what your head might say, and even if the world would end because of it.

i love being with you. even after a decade together, i only love you more and more.

and i do need you like oxygen. i need you like plants need the sun. you’re my favourite person, you’re my safe place, you’re my home. you’re my better half and your own person that just happens to fit with me. you’re my soulmate and also someone i was just lucky enough to meet. you fit every possible cliché and trope i can think of. every single one is true, which makes me think maybe you’re the kind of person old poets and writers were inspired by. they’re not around though, so i hope i can be enough.

happy birthday :) i’d say i hope we only get to spend more together, but at this point you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. (please don’t try though i’ll cry.) so instead, i hope every birthday is as warm and bright as you. i hope you remember i’m here with you, and always will be. every midnight you get a little older, all the way until the end. as cliché as all of this might sound, i love you forever,

keiji writes your name especially careful, making sure it sits perfectly on the line and each pen stroke is clean. then he draws a little heart beside you before signing off with his own name, and letting out a deep breath. his fingers tremble a little when he finally puts the pen down.

there’s blue ink on his hand, and he thinks there might be some on his temple from forgetting to unclick his pen. but it’s a problem for nightly routine keiji to wash off, not him now.

the letter would sit in a gift bag for another week, but then it would be in your hands. it wasn’t proofread—he could have spelt his own name wrong at the end and no one would know until then. but he can’t bring himself to reread it this time. maybe because he’s tired or doesn’t want to feel cheesy, maybe so it feels more romantic, more raw. maybe because at the end of the day, whether you loved the letter so much you framed it on your bedroom wall, or you accidentally spilled water and rendered every word illegible, he’d have you anyway. and you’d have him.

and he’d just write another one, once again filled with clichés and an embarrassing amount of i love you’s, as long as you’d let him.

pleak pretend this letter really is for u. it's half of this post come onnn it's for u now. happy birthday! i love u i love u i love u i love u (4 so it isn't a cliche) mwah

[aealzx]

“Uhm… Yes?...Why?” Don responded, taken a little off guard by the question. They were already borrowing the infirmary weren’t they? Donnie and Lil Mikey were going to stay the rest of the night at least. Leatherhead was already settling Donnie back into the bed he’d been in before, and Raphael was trying to lead Leon over to the other bed for Lil Mikey to sleep on.

But Leon was apparently distracted by something else, leaning away from Raphael halfway and slow to respond. “You have intravenous antibiotics, yeah?” he asked, a mix of feeling rushed and excited making his speech faster as he eventually obeyed Raphael's mildly frustrated coaxing and carefully rested Lil Mikey on the mattress. “And two metal plates, about this big, and screws?” Leon followed up, holding his hands up a short distance apart and then a certain thickness.

The questions immediately caused Don’s mind to start listing possible uses in the context he was given. Injuries that would warrant metal plates, screws and antibiotics filtering into his head as he narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Yes, of course. Why?” Don confirmed and repeated his own question with a little more emphasis, restraining himself from grabbing Leon to check him over. It couldn’t be any of them that were currently there that were injured. The only thing Don could think of was a severe fracture, and if that was the case he didn’t think Leon would be moving as easily as he was.

But luckily Leon answered the question of who without the need of further interrogation.

“My brother has an open compound fractured tibia and fibula. Let me go get him, I’ll be right back.” Leon’s answer came as a rush of syllables accentuated by one of the swirling blue discs opening up next to him. Don flinched back slightly at the revelation, and Raphael was more caught off guard by the portal. The kid hadn’t even moved for that to appear. It was a little disconcerting since they still weren’t quite sure what they did exactly. Before the others could fully register what was going on Leon had slipped through the portal, mask tails nearly being caught by the closing gateway.

Being left in silence, Raphael mentally repeated in his mind what Leon had said. He understood most of it, but he wasn’t familiar enough with the names of bones to know which ones the tibia and fibula were. Something in the leg? Or was it the arm? They sounded familiar enough for him to think they were in one of the more external limbs. Looking over to Don for clarification and possible direction, Raphael let out a smothered snort of amusement. Don’s hands had remained frozen in the air where he’d reached out on reflex, and his expression betrayed his disbelief in what he’d just been told. The revelation caused stress to build to the point it bubbled over in the form of a higher pitched whine slowly escaping his form while his fingers flexed.

“Easy there Doctor Don. We don’t want to scare the kid off now that he’s finally started to trust us,” Raphael cautioned with a mild chuckle, recognizing Don’s mental restraint barely keeping him from chasing Leon down. Speaking up only caused Don to redirect his stress at him though.

“Hhhhhhhhh Raph you can not tell me to take it easy after being told the last one of them has a bone sticking out of his leg! if they’re not back in four hours I’m tracking them and getting them myself, and I make no promises on the four hours,” Don rambled, grabbing Raphael’s shoulders and lightly shaking him in distress.

Raphael could only chuckle, reaching up to still Don’s hands and keep him from shaking his brains up too much as Leo and Master Splinter moved closer. “Then I guess you should keep yourself busy getting the supplies you’ll need?” he suggested. Anything to keep his brother occupied and not giving someone a headache.

“...Duh,” Don huffed, giving Rahael an incredulous squint before breaking away to scurry towards the cabinets. The least he could do was make sure they had everything where Leon and he could easily get to it.

“What’s going on?” Leo asked, having heard pieces of the conversation but not actively followed it. He had a relatively clear guess on what the problem was with Don, but he preferred getting clarification before causing issues out of ignorant guesses.

“Remember when your bone was sticking outta your arm?” Raphael asked, raising his own arm and pointing at it.

“...Yeah?” Leo confirmed, reflexively glancing at the scar running down the length of his arm in memory.

“The kid Leo says his brother has the same thing, and went to get him. Obviously that got Don all worked up,” Raphael explained, jerking a thumb at their brother pilling medical supplies on the rolling surgical tray near the table.

Leo’s brows raised in mild surprise before furrowing in concern. He had been quite distracted when his own arm had been broken, for obvious reasons. But he still remembered Don being just as frantic. Paranoid about bone infection, or being able to properly stabilize it without doing further damage, or preventing it from healing properly. Honestly Leo still thought Don had done an amazing job with it, as always, considering he didn’t notice it anymore. And yet the memories just added yet another thing to the list to explain why Leon had been so upset earlier. “..Did he say anything about needing transport?” Leo asked, tone a little more sullen than before. He was starting to regret the way he’d reacted towards Leon’s actions. They were the wrong actions to take, but Leo was starting to find it hard to hold anything against Leon now.

“Nah. I think he can teleport just fine. Like he was doing when he got here,” Raphael admitted with a shrug. “Don gave him four hours, but I bet he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Then let’s make sure we’re ready for them,” Leo directed firmly, moving around Raphael to head towards Don to see if he could help with anything.

Raphael watched Leo go and could only huff in amusement as he folded his arms. “Took him long enough,” he mused, lowering his gaze down to Master Splinter as he stepped next to him.

“Leonardo has always had difficulty thinking clearly when the safety of his family is in question. A trait he has come to manage as he’s gotten older, but also one that I have never faulted him for,” Master Splinter mused with a smile, looking fondly after his boys. Then his gaze shifted, a knowing smile as he looked up to meet Raphael’s eyes. “It would seem this young, other dimension version of my son has the same trait. And you, my son, have gotten much better at recognizing the motivations behind others’ actions.”

Raphael had to snort in mild embarrassment at the compliment, shifting his weight and shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. “Wasn’t hard. It was written all over his face. Don saw it too,” he brushed off despite forcing down the grin tugging his mouth.

Master Splinter could only chuckle softly, but was unable to add more to the conversation as yet another blue portal swirled into the room in practically the same spot as before. Raphael stepped back to fully face it, and had to chuckle in mild triumph. “See? Just a few minutes.”

—---

 As time crept on at an agonizing pace in the still darkness, April was finding she hated that she’d agreed to wait until noon to look for Leon. It wasn’t only that she was worried about him, but she missed having him there for company in this empty place. Of course having Raph in her lap brought some comfort, for she wasn’t truly alone. But her back was bare other than a light blanket, and she trusted Leon’s medical expertise way more than her own. She wanted her brother’s weight on her back, and his encyclopedia brain ready to address their needs. But she also wanted all four of her brothers there too. Which was the only thing that kept her where she was, staring at the map on her phone as it showed Leon chasing around the city, trying to find their little brothers. Part of April wanted to help look, but she didn’t know how she could. Leon was definitely able to move around way faster than she ever could. And she knew the best help she could give was to stay there and look after Raph. He didn’t handle being alone in a foreign place well at all even when he was healthy. So she had to be there to keep him calm. But his current state wasn’t doing much in the way of keeping her calm.

Thirty minutes after Leon had left Raph had woken up again, asking almost immediately where Leon had gone. Noting how disoriented Raph seemed to be, April had made up the excuse that Leon had gone to the bathroom. Partly because she didn’t want Raph to try and get up, but also because she didn’t want to add any more stress to her biggest little brother even if he behaved and remained laying down. She just knew he would start imagining all the wrong scenarios in his overprotective mind. Probably start talking aloud that everything was fine to reassure himself. Get fidgety, want to check outside, and otherwise just not relax and rest like he needed to. He needed all the rest and care he could get.

When they had settled down in this room Raph had looked relatively okay despite the pain from his broken bones. Just a clenched jaw and furrowed brow behind his bright red mask. But now those rich green cheeks were flushed red, and his forehead was damp from sweat instead of the rain. April knew the signs of fever in all of her brothers, and even without a thermometer she could tell Raph’s temperature was creeping up. Leon had anticipated it, and had already given him a fever reducer that he’d had stolen while gathering supplies. But they weren’t exactly in the best circumstances. The tarp on the floor wasn’t that comfortable. The blankets weren’t that thick. And their sanitized bubble of space wasn’t impenetrable. They needed antibiotics, and a proper bed at the very least. As soon as Raph had shivered once April had wiggled out from under him to crank up their space heater. Then her own blanket was tossed over him before she slipped his bandana off so his face didn’t overheat.

Two hours after Leon had left April couldn’t bring herself to make up another excuse when Raph opened his eyes again amidst her absently rubbing his head. His right eye was always slightly unfocused after the damage it’d sustained from the Krang, but now even his left eye was finding it difficult to register where April was in the dark. Yet despite that it didn’t take much effort at all for him to notice Leon still wasn’t there.

“... Wh’rs Leo now?” Raph asked, slightly mumbled from exhaustion and fever haze. He sounded a little grumpy, but April knew it was just his worry creeping up into his sleepy mumbles.

“...He went to get Donnie and Mikey,” April relented this time, not willing to lie to Raph a third time and shifting her phone so that he could see the screen as well. Leon’s icon had come to a stop with the other two, and April kept telling herself it was because he’d finally located them, and was just taking care of them or something. Checking their physical and mental wellbeing. Catching them up on what had happened. Making sure no one saw them. The usual. His vitals had had a spike in heart rate at one point, but it was calm now. As were Donnie’s and Lil Mikey’s. So they had to be fine. Right?

“...What?” Raph almost wheezed, shifting to sit up and grinding his teeth when even twitching his leg sent stabbing waves of pain up it. 

“Easy there, big guy,” April protested, placing a hand gently on Raph’s chest, pressing lightly to direct him to lay back down.

After halting his movements and giving a slight hiss, Raph looked back to April with a slight squint. “Why didn’t he wake Raph? I should be helping him get the others-”

“You know you’re not in any condition to be moving around,” April interrupted quietly, but firmly. “Don’t make me lecture you. We agreed after the Krang that no one would be doing anymore self sacrifice bull crap, remember? That includes forcing yourself to do what you physically or mentally shouldn’t when there isn’t immediate danger.” Her scolding felt shallow, but the conviction was still there under the sleep worn exterior. No more hiding injuries. No more getting seriously hurt to save others. They were to include themselves when it came to protecting who needed it most.

At first Raph wanted to be belligerent towards April. It was his job to look after his brothers. He was the oldest. It had always been that way. Especially if they were in an unfamiliar place like they were now. If he’d heard Leon correctly, they were apparently in an alternate dimension. And while Raph was probably the least scientifically inclined of them, he’d seen enough sci-fi stories to know what that meant. This was probably the most unfamiliar place they could get. He wanted to be there for his brothers. Not only to rescue Donnie and Lil Mikey, but also to be there to support Leon. But hearing April remind him of their agreement deflated his stubbornness almost instantaneously. He knew he could move on his own if he had to. His ninpo apparition would make it easier to not use his leg. But he didn’t need to move right then. As far as they knew, he was the most injured. So it was his job to behave and not worry the others. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t also just want to curl up and cry whenever he did move his leg. It was worse than when his shell had been broken.

Seeing Raph almost deflate into obedience, April let out a breath in a tired sigh and returned to rubbing his head. “There you go,” she complimented, grateful for his choice. “He said to wait until noon, and if he wasn’t back here by then to come looking for him,” she added, just so Raph knew they had a plan other than sit and wait endlessly. 

She sounded so tired. And that, combined with everything else caused Raph to let out a small whimper as he shifted to wrap his arms around back around April. “...Okay… Raph will wait,” he agreed quietly, silently wondering what he could do for April in turn. He couldn’t imagine she was comfortable waiting in the dark on her own. So this time Raph stubbornly didn’t let himself fall back to sleep, staying curled around April as they gave each other comfort in the dark. It was hard to pass the time in silence, and unfortunately Raph’s brain felt a little more fuzzy than usual. He didn’t think talking about the others would help either, he knew it wouldn’t help him stay calm. So he ended up pulling himself to other, way less important thoughts. “....Do you think they have Jupiter Jim in this dimension?” 

April couldn’t help snorting at the seemingly random question. But she found the topic was actually incredibly calming. “If they don’t I’m gonna be extremely disappointed,” shifting her attention to her phone with the thought to search for it on the internet. Seeing the tracking screen again though, she paused before looking back to Raph. “Do you have your phone? I’m not sure how to get back into this screen if I exit,” she admitted with a slight grimace.

“Yeah, I still have it,” Raph nodded, moving his hand from his hug just long enough to get his phone from his shell and pass it to April after unlocking it.

Quietly tapping the franchise name into a search engine, April ended up scoffing. “Whaaat? Nothing came up? Okay this dimension officially sucks now. What about your dad, are there any of his movies?” she huffed, immediately switching to the next curiosity.

Raph had to snort at her choice of search, and furrowed his brow. “... I dunno. We’re kind of an oddity…” he mused. He and his brothers were decidedly created by someone, not just a common species. He wasn’t sure how that would factor into consistencies between dimensions if something like Jupiter Jim wasn’t there.

“Euh, you’re right. Nothing came up for his movies either. Laaaaame,” April groaned, rolling her eyes.

Raph could feel the tension slipping out of her frame as she excitedly began looking up other things that were familiar to them. The Nexus Hotel wasn’t there, but surprisingly there was still a pizza chain called Lou Mike Tony’s Pizzeria. The two ended up excitedly making a note to try and get some once everything calmed down so they could compare. It made the next hour much more bearable, and they ended up slightly startled when a familiar blue portal whisked into view near them, momentarily illuminating the room as Leon slipped through before it closed.

“April!- Raph!” Leon blurted when he saw them, including Raph when he saw his big brother was awake this time and had jerked his head to look at him.

“Leo!- GAhhkk” Raph called, his attempt to sit up and greet his brother interrupted by another fierce pain firing up his leg.

“Woah there. Take it easy,” Leon cautioned, rushing over to crouch next to Raph and offer support. Even in the dark it only took him seconds to notice Raph’s flushed cheeks, and a brief expression of worry flashed over Leon’s features as he reached up a hand to Raph’s forehead. “Sss… okay, bit higher than expected…,” Leon hissed more to himself, eyes flicking down to Donnie’s wrist computer on his own arm and swiping the screen over to the vitals. 38.7 degrees celsius for Raph. Not horrible, but not good either. Leon knew they wouldn’t be able to avoid a fever, but he’d been hoping he’d have more time than this. At least he had a good place to take Raph and April too now though.

“Did you find Donnie and Mikey?!” April rushed while Leon checked the wrist screen, wedging next to Raph’s side to act as a prop to hold him if needed and handing his phone back to him. She could see Leon checking all of their vitals, so she knew she didn’t have to tell him about changes in Raph’s condition.

“Yeah!” Leon chirped, a bright smile returning to his features as he looked up to them. “They’re okay- Well, they’re a little banged up, but they’re already taken care of and sleeping. These really great guys from this dimension that are probably pretty much us already found them and took care of them,” he rambled, unable to sit still in his eagerness to get back. “They’re also gonna let me borrow their hella cool infirmary to fix up Raph! April you should see it! It’s like a whole hospital crammed into one room! They even have an MRI machine! At least I think that’s what it was….”

April listened to Leon in mild disbelief, what she was hearing conflicting with what she and Raph had thought more than half an hour ago. “Hold up-,” she paused, raising her hand, palm open. “They have the best ninja turtles ever in this dimension too, but no Lou Jitsu?”

“They don’t have Lou Jitsu here?” Leon repeated, looking borderline offended. “Wow, that sucks. Though I guess it makes sense. Their dad is kinda…. Weird. So quiet and…regal? I dunno. I feel like he’s one of those old dudes that just sits and drinks tea all day,” he mused, scrunching his nose slightly. He didn’t think he’d like not being able to roughhouse with and tease his dad. But that was a topic for later, and he pushed it aside in his mind as he addressed Raph again, leaving April to try and configure an image in her mind of this other version of their dad.

“We’re going to have to move you again Raph. Think you can handle it? I’ll try to make the distance as short as possible,” Leon informed apologetically, shifting around to crouch and wiggle underneath Raph’s arm on the opposite side of April.

“Are we going where Dee and Mikey are?” Raph asked, unable to resist giving Leon a little squeeze hug once he was squished under his arm.

“Yup! They’ll be in the same room. But we’re going to fix your leg before letting you join them, okay?” Leon confirmed after giving a small wheeze squeak and laugh at being squished.

Seeing Leon in such a good mood compared to the last time he saw him, Raph realized wherever they were going it was apparently safe enough for Leon to want to be there. And that was enough to reassure Raph that all of them would probably be alright. “Okay, let’s get going then,” Raph nodded, realizing they needed to get moving before the relief Leon brought washed away all resistance he had to the desire to lay back down. Shifting to help Leon and April lift him to his feet, Raph bit back almost all of his whimpers as the trio heaved the group up as carefully as they could. “Easy. Gently. Sorry,” Leon chattered uneasily, pushing back the heartache bubbling up in his chest. “Don’t put any weight on your leg at all okay?” Leon ordered just in case Raph forgot or wasn’t thinking about it, and adjusted his own position to try and take all of Raph’s weight off his broken leg. He wished he had a better way to move them, but portal dropping him onto the surgery table was risky as well as too jarring. So he just had to keep his heart in his chest, forcing himself to be steady as every noise from Raph made him want to stop moving completely, and gradually help them make their way through the new portal he opened.

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Iiiiii struggled so freaking hard with this one ;v; Not only because I just couldn't get words to work to give this part the attention I wanted (it's barely acceptable now), but I've been working on a massive collab image, and then also got super distracted by a game's story |DDD oops.

you for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy the Raph snuggles =7=

[the-traveling-poet]

it’s me again, and I’ve found an idea! Okay so, I’d like to request a Levi x lieutenant reader where the reader is sick but she is as stubborn as a mule and every time someone points that out she just brush it off some way, or elude the questions, until she feels so sick she can barely stand, and ask Levi for help? Thank you Lynn! 🤎🤎

Head-Cold

══════════════════════

What started off as a slight cough and a runny nose, now consumed your every waking moment in the form of a head-cold. The worse you get, the more your friends and comrades worry for your health.

But you’re fine, right?

Your stubbornness to be seen by a medic doesn’t go unnoticed by your Captain, who takes matters into his own hands.

══════════════════════

Pairing: Levi x Lieutenant!Sick!Reader

Warnings: Language, sick reader, mention of vomit

SFW, fluff, xReader

══════════════════════

A/N: Love this idea! Seriously tho the “I don’t need help I’m fine” trope that turns into the “Crush has to take care of you” trope? UNDEFEATED.

Also this request is ironic cause I’m coming down with a head cold myself xD

As always, if this doesn’t meet your expectations, I’ll rewrite whatever you prefer!

Enjoy~🤎

══════════════════════

The moment you woke up feeling nauseous, you knew today was gonna be a great day.

Rolling out of your bed with a stuffy groan, you shuffled over to your private bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. Crusty eyes looked back at you from your reflection, and a red nose drew attention to the color in your face, making you look fevered. Placing a hand on your forehead, you could nearly confirm this was the case.

Mumbling incoherently to yourself, you tried your best to clean yourself up before you had to make an appearance for the day. Before leaving your dorm room, you’d gone through at least ten tissues and wiped your face with a damp wash cloth nearly just as many times. With your hair pulled up neatly away from your face and your clothes adjusted properly on your frame, you put on your best ‘I’m fine’ face and strode out into the hall.

Steadying yourself on your feet, you slowly made your way down to breakfast with the others in your regiment, gliding your hand along the wall to keep your ever wobbling balance.

Shit…Light headed, dizzy, nauseous, runny nose…what’s next, a headache?

You entered the hall and found your way to the kitchens to grab a bowl of what appeared to be soup.

Thank god, maybe this’ll help my poor throat…

You scanned the room over with tired eyes and spotted your fellow superiors sat around their usual table. Stifling a yawn, you trudged over and plopped down near Hange and Nanaba.

“Lieutenant Y/N,” Commander Erwin greeted you formally from across the table.

“Mornin’ C’mander,” you replied back in a stuffy tone, rubbing slightly at your nose.

The conversation happening around you paused, but you were too busy suffering to notice until a hand placed itself on your shoulder. Looking over, you spotted Hange giving you a confused look.

“Y/N, dear…Is everything alright?” they asked.

“Yeah, why?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Y/N, you look sick. Are you sure you’re alright?” Nanaba pestered from your other side.

“Sick? Ehh…maybe. Nothin’ I cant handle doe.” You sniffled, your throat feeling worse from trying to talk in a volume they’d be able to hear you in.

“Maybe you should go to the infirmary…You shouldn’t attend to duties today if you’re ill. You’ll just make yourself worse and possibly spread it to someone else!” Hange’s assistant, Moblit, spoke up from the other side of the scientist.

“Nah, I’ve had a lot worse, so therefor I can’t complain. This won’t kill me.” you argued stubbornly, taking a sip of your soup to hopefully help with the aching pain there.

“You’re sick. I smell it on you.”

You looked up to see Mike joining your table, a bowl of soup in his big hands as he sat down across from Nanaba.

“I’ll be fiiiiiine,” you sniffled, ignoring their concern. You’ve dealt with many hardships in life, both physical and mental. A little head cold wouldn’t be your downfall.

Finally giving into your stubbornness, they dropped your case and resumed their previous conversations. You attempted to follow suit as you ate, but a sudden wave of nausea made you set your spoon back down with a nearly inaudible groan. Deciding you couldn’t stomach anymore, you went to stand on shaky legs and discard your bowl.

Normally you’d let one of the others have what you couldn’t eat, but if Mike was right (and his nose always was) about you being sick, you didn’t want to risk infecting anyone else. Ever you were the considerate one, despite your dismissal of your own issues.

Before you could leave the hall, you found Levi walking in with an empty cup in his hand. After refilling it, he sat near Erwin at your table. He caught your gaze, and you were quick to look away shyly.

“You look like shit,” he greeted.

“Mornin’ Levi,” you greeted back, now trying to hold in a sneeze. As Hange eagerly filled him in on your situation, you rolled your eyes and made to leave the mess hall.

Training wasn’t going to be fun…

══════════════════════

Only twenty minutes in, and you were sweating like a pig. In order to catch your breath, you’d had to resort to breathing through your mouth since your nose was completely plugged up and runny.

Great. Just great.

Your legs shook and your head spun as you got off the ground for the nth time. Taking several shallow breaths, you closed your eyes for a moment and silently prayed to anything that might be listening that the torture would end soon.

“Oi, Lieutenant.”

You snapped your eyes open with a muffled ‘huh?’ and came face to face with the gaze of a glaring Captain Levi. He was running the training course today.

He stood several feet away from you, not wanting to come any closer after all Hange had told him.

“You shouldn’t be out here training, you’ll make yourself worse. Go to the infirmary,” he commanded.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him breathlessly, wiping at your brow and nose.

He sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “The one time I go easy on a brat and they refuse,” he mumbled to himself.

“That’s an order, L/N. Go.”

“You can’t orber me roun’. I’m a Lieutenan’.” Your stuffy voice was getting worse, paired with the scratching of your throat.

Another frustrated sigh left the Captain, but he really wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Fine, have it your way. I was just trying to help, but if you want to make yourself worse, be my guest.”

As he started to walk off, you suddenly gasped and held at your mouth.

“Oh gob oh shid,” you mumbled, catching Levi’s attention. He turned back around, only to see you taking off in the opposite direction; a hand over your mouth and stomach.

He grimaced to himself, knowing immediately what was going on.

“Damn brat…”

Not wanting to vomit in front of everyone, you had raced back into HQ, desperately trying to hold down what little breakfast you’d managed to eat earlier. Throwing your dorm room open, you raced to the bathroom and barely made it to your personal bathroom before it all came back up.

You clutched the bowl of your toilet with shaky hands and coughed, grimacing as your throat burned. After brushing your teeth and cleaning up the bathroom, and yourself with a quick shower, you decided to finally take your friend’s advice.

Not to go to the infirmary, but instead to rest. Locked away in your room, you ignored the knocks and muffled voices at your door as you curled up under the blankets on your bed.

It may have been warm outside, but you were freezing. Despite the sweat that clung to your body, you attempted to rest.

══════════════════════

What felt like an eternity later, the sound of your door being messed with woke you up out of a deep sleep. Rubbing at your sweaty brow, you groaned as you saw your locked door handle twist.

Your door opened slowly, and with blurry eyes you could make out a head of raven hair. Shuffling under the covers, you looked over your shoulder to see Levi approaching your bed.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled sleepily.

“You missed lunch. And dinner,” he stated quietly, and it was only then you noticed a tray of food in his hands.

“Oh…What time is it?” you yawned, trying your best to cover your mouth and sit up, but the dizziness came back in full force, making you groan and lay back down.

“A little after eight,” he responded, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

“I tried to check up on you earlier, but you must have really been out of it.”

“How did you even get in here this time?” you asked with a raised brow. “I locked the door.”

“I picked the lock,” he stated in a ‘you seriously have to ask?’ tone of voice.

Shooting him a look of disbelief, you shook your head and attempted to sit up again.

“Why are you even in here? I’m sick. You might get sick.” You pointed out, knowing how skittish he was about germs.

With a sigh, he sat on the edge of your bed. “I decided to swallow my pride and make sure you didn’t die in here. Firstly, that’s a lot of paper work for me. Secondly, someone has to help your stubborn ass. Might as well be me.”

“And why’s that?” You pushed for more information, a smile slowly making its way onto your face. Though his face was turned away from you, you could make out a very faint pink hue blooming over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Why not me?” he mumbled.

“Awe, you do care,” you chuckled, voice a little raspy still from sleep and your scratchy throat.

“Shut it, brat. You’re stuffy, and it’s annoying to listen to you talk. The sooner you become less annoying to me, the better.” he grumbled, shooting you a pointed look over his shoulder that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Starting to understand, you couldn’t help but grin. Maybe he did care a little more than he was trying to let on…

“You wouldn’t have had to hear me talk like this if you hadn’t come in here,” you pointed out teasingly.

He didn’t have a retort for this, so instead he sighed in annoyance and picked up the forgotten tray of food.

“Eat your damn soup already. And take some meds for god’s sake. I grabbed a couple bottles on the way up here.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the tray from him, your fingers lightly brushing against his hands. He stiffened slightly at the contact, but made no comment. Instead, he quietly observed you taking a sip of the warm soup. He refused to tell you, but you could tell this wasn’t something that had been served for dinner. He had to have made this himself.

For you…

“Thanks, Levi. I guess I could maybe use the help.” You smiled at him, scooting a little closer to where he sat.

“Yeah no shit, now eat.” He didn’t move away from you. Instead, he discreetly moved a little closer.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to ask for help from time to time, you supposed. Especially if being sick meant you got to spend some time with your favorite Captain…

[fayes-fics]

Succour

Double Bind Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Follow on to Reprimand. Benedict soothes your pain and Anthony makes a bold choice.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex, massage, aftercare. Affection, emotions, confessions and proposals. Mildly angsty maybe (?)

Word Count: 5.7 k

Authors Note: Last planned fic in this series. Thank you to @colettebronte for betaing. Requested by and dedicated to @eleanor-bradstreet, who framed most of the last three fics in this series. I errr hope everyone likes this. Enjoy(?) <3

The next evening you steal away to Benedict’s lodging under cover of darkness, paying your footman some pin money to take you there in a carriage after dinner.  

You managed to avoid your family for the day, hiding in your room and claiming you had a headache as a way to disguise your discomfort. Anthony’s harsh treatment, which at the time felt like penance, absolution, even, now feels tender. Blooms on your skin that you can hide from everyone… except the man you have arranged to see tonight. You consider not going through with the plan to meet until you are healed, but you can’t resist him any more than you can his older brother. 

You hide behind a large velvet hooded cloak as you step down from the carriage and bustle to the door already opening before you get to it. It’s not the valet that greets you, as you expect, but the man himself.

“Y/n,” Benedict greets and, glancing around the deserted street, closes the door. You both know no one comes for art instruction after 10 pm; if you are seen, there will be talk.

“He knows Benedict!” you lament the instant the door closes, removing your heavy cloak. “Anthony. He called at my house while I was here two days ago; he knows we were together. Oh god. I have no idea what to do!!!” 

All day you had managed to keep a lid on your simmering anxiety about what transpired with Anthony, primarily through denial. But seeing his brother, it all comes tumbling out of you.

“Shhh, shhh,” he soothes and places his hands on your shoulders as if considering taking you into an embrace but deciding against it. “All will be well. He only knows that you were here, not what we got up to,” he tries to reason.

“Benedict, you left teeth marks on my inner thigh!” you bemoan. “He's not stupid. I tried to claim it was something else, but, dear god, your brother is not that obtuse… I honestly don't know what he will do,” you fret. “He looked so hurt and sent me away last night.”

“He has no claim of exclusivity over you,” Benedict points out, very much wanting that to be true as much as it may be objectively questionable. 

“He told me, in no uncertain terms, that he thought it was clear he is the only one I should be with.”

“And has he made similar promises to you? Because if not, that feels distinctly unfair. For all you know, he could be with another.”

You pause for a moment. Benedict is right. Anthony made no such claim of devotion, merely that you should only be with him, not that he should only be with you also.

“He did not,” you admit.

Benedict curls the arms on your shoulders and draws you into his embrace. His scent, the one that makes your mouth water, surrounds you as your cheek is crushed onto his breastbone. Instead of just arousing, tonight it is also comforting. Safe. You band your arms around his waist and take a deep breath, burrowing into him—taking refuge.

“My girl. I cannot speak for him, but I would devote myself to you wholly. I would never be with another as long as you give me the word that is what you desire,” the words vibrate against your jaw as they rumble in his chest.

You know that Benedict is trying to twist the situation to his advantage, but nonetheless, you believe him and appreciate the honesty behind his words. It’s just not something you want to contemplate tonight.

“Do not, Benedict,” you warn. “Please. I cannot think of the future right now,” you pull back and look pleadingly into his eyes. “I just wish to live for the now, for tonight. I need touch, kisses….” you trail off in a whisper.

He nods in understanding and wordlessly takes your hand, pulling you into his drawing room, where the heavy velvet drapes are already helpfully closed, and a fire is roaring. It feels like a place of comfort.

But when the arm he wraps around your waist makes you wince, a cloud of concern flits over his face.

“What did he do to you?”

“He reprimanded me,” you answer simply. “And I let him. I wanted it. I needed it.”

Benedict shoots you a sorrowful look.

“I do not want your pity Benedict,” you state fiercely, “I choose this.”

“But, my darling girl, there’s a difference between punishment and pain. You appear to be in pain, and it hurts me to see you hurting. Come here,” he pulls you into his arms in a loose embrace, surprisingly sweet. “Let me soothe you,” he murmurs into your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead.

This is not the commanding Benedict he was the last time you met; his tone and touch are gentle. He backs you towards the fireplace, where you feel the warmth from the crackling flames. 

It’s there that he undresses you. He doesn’t tell you to strip. He doesn’t tear your dress off. No, he stands behind you, delicate fingers brushing your spine as he slowly unbuttons between your shoulder blades: just slow breathing and the hiss and pops of sap boiling in those wooden logs. Your dress hits the floor, and he reaches around in front wordlessly to loosen the strings of your chemise until it gapes enough to slip over your shoulders. The second it joins your dress around your ankles, he sucks in a breath.

“Oh, my darling girl, what did he do to you?” He sounds almost tremulous as there are gossamer caresses over the marks where the rope tied you around the waist onto the bench and the flecks on your skin from the riding crop.

“I chose it, Benedict,” you remind, your jaw set defiantly, looking at the flames in the hearth.

“I know you did,” he placates, dropping a featherlight kiss onto your shoulder that makes your heart skip, “but you shouldn’t choose physical pain to alleviate your guilt. Especially not for me,” he adds.

Your eyes raise and dart to him. “That’s not….” Your words of protest die out, trapped by his hazy blue stare, heavy with something unspoken.

He’s right. 

You chose to let yourself be punished more harshly than ever because of how bad you feel for being torn between these two men—these two incredible but so different brothers.

Those gentle hands are at your stays, unwinding the lace through each hole. Intentionally slow, calming, letting you breathe and sigh and relax into the moment. Then when you sway backwards into him, he instantly pauses, and his lips land warm on your neck, sucking so attentively you moan, just soft heat and dampness. No force, no bite, just lucious sensation.

Your hand shoots back into his hair, scraping your nails over his scalp, revelling in the shiver you feel running through his body. You want to give him an indulgent sensual experience too. Your moan is gauzy as your eyes flutter shut, and you tilt your head, pushing your neck up into his mouth for more. He indulges it, warm wet lips kissing your pulse point, taking you to an almost trance-like state, pliant in his arms. 

“Darling, darling girl,” he whispers, then purses his lips and blows warm air over your skin, damp with his saliva, and you shiver from the tenderness. 

So slowly you barely feel it, he peels away your stays until you are topless. 

“Lay down,” he exhales, gesturing to a pile of oversized pillows gathered on the rug in front of the fireplace.

You sink onto them, their warmth from the fire and plush stuffing a wondrous place to be. You sigh deeply and look up at him as he gazes down at you. His eyes covetously roam your breasts.

“Roll over onto your front,” he asks quietly, and you do so, confused why he might want that. He drops to his knees and covers your body with his. You moan lightly as he drops a kiss on the inside of your left arm. He moves and does the same to your right arm. It’s then you realise he is kissing the spots where you have marks. 

Gently, his wet lips trace down over your shoulder to your mid back catching each mark there. You sigh, feeling yourself grow almost drowsy with the heat of the fire and his delicate damp lips. He shuffles lower and spends time mapping the line where the rope lashed you down. Bussing the abrasions softly, your eyes flutter closed, resting your cheek on your joined hands as he salves your skin. 

Time slows when he starts unlooping the tiny buttons at your hip for your silk underwear, carefully pulling the material over the swell of your bottom and slipping it down your legs. Hence, you are entirely naked save your stockings, held by ribbons tied just above your knees.

His name is a breathy sigh on your lips as his open mouth traces warm and wet over your bottom, damply kissing each mark. His tongue lathing gently, swirling motions designed to soothe. Moving down further to the back of your thighs, you start to quiver a little. Wondering if he will push your legs open and drink from your body the way you are desperate for him to do. He spends time kissing the sensitive spots on your inner thighs, his breathing a little ragged, and you know he can smell and see your arousal, your legs open as they are. But he does not touch you there. He crawls back up over your prone body, his voice suddenly right by your ear.

“Does that help, my sweet girl?” he inquires sotto voce, and you nod, floating on a cloud of lush sensation—his saliva drying in patches, evaporating in the warm room. “I want to make you feel so much better,” he intones the genial sincerity so beguiling.

“You have,” you assure, twisting to give him a gentle smile.

“Wait here, do not move an inch,” he advises, dropping a kiss on your temple before standing up and walking out of the room briskly.

You are momentarily confused but too drowsy to be concerned, just closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth and crackle of the fire next to you and the comfort and slight velvet tickle of the cushions under you. You hear him re-enter the room but just ghost a smile without reopening your eyes. He chuckles warmly, and you feel a dip in the cushions as he rejoins you.

“I would like to relieve your ache with a massage, my darling girl.”

“I've never had a massage before,” you answer honestly.

“I will pour oil on your skin and rub my hands over you,” he details, “it will make you feel blissful, I promise.”

“Then go ahead,” you smile, eyes still closed.

He hums, and then there is more movement. Suddenly two warm naked thighs straddle yours, the downy hairs tickling your skin, and your lips part in surprise.

“When did you get undressed, Mr Bridgerton?” 

“I came back into this room naked, but sadly you missed it,” he teases.

Your eyes fly open, and you twist to look at him over your shoulder. “I demand an encore. Get back out there and walk in again,” you order with a slanted pout.

He laughs loudly this time, a sparkly sheen of bemusement over his enlarged pupils. “Sorry, you missed the show. It was a one-time thing,” he peals lighthearted.

Something in the air feels so soft, so sweet, so safe that you feel a pang of yearning that perhaps this could be your life. Living in this lovely cosy townhouse with this caring man who, when you ask, will tie you to the bed and fuck you so hard you scream the house down… but will also do this. Kiss every inch of your skin better. Lay with you in easy loving intimacy.

“I could get used to this, Mr Bridgerton,” you sigh.

“This could be your life,” he responds liltingly, “please choose me.”

“Benedict….” you warn.

“I know, I know,” he exhales, a touch defeated. “I would indeed rather have a part of you than none at all,” he confesses as you feel him place a sheet down next to you, and he opens a small glass bottle.

The air fills with the comforting aroma of calendula and oil. “This herb is good for healing. A number of my friends swear by it for their boxing injuries,” he explains as he rubs the oil into his hands to warm it. “Lay flat,” he advises, and you twist back, arranging your hands under your forehead and closing your eyes.

He begins at your neck, running lines over the tension you carry there. You cannot stop the noise you make as his talented, strong fingers knead at the knots there until they relent. It feels blissful, and all the tension you have carried since Aburey Hall melts away. He moves to your left, then right shoulder and does the same; your whole upper back turns to putty in his arms. His name is a ragged sigh escaping your lips.

He huffs a laugh at your intoxicated state and continues, his hands working their magic. It feels like one hand could span your whole back as he splays his fingers wide and expertly assuages your aches. Mapping down your spine with the side of his hands with a pressure that makes you groan so loud, it sounds entirely wanton. 

“You make the most delightful noises,” he buzzes as he leans over you, his chest warm on your oiled back. 

“Please do not stop,” you slur, drowsy, floating, so relaxed and high on a sea of pleasant brain chemicals. 

“Do you want me to massage every inch of your body?” His voice is dark and sugary.

“Please…” 

An oiled hand slides heavy down your spine, mapping the dip of your waist, then crests over the slope of your bottom cheeks. It keeps going, trailing the cleft of your bum, and your breath catches as his fingers glide lower, between your thighs, over your folds, slick from an entirely different source.

“How about here?” He murmurs smokily. “Do you want me to massage here?”

“God, yes, yes,” you moan and push into his fingers that just rest lightly on your swollen clit, not moving.

“Mmm, I will,” he promises, but you whine as his fingers move away and sweep up the same path to your backbone.

“Don’t tease me,” your plea is a hushed thing as his hands squeeze your shoulders and run up your arms to your hands, where they rest under your chin.

He chuckles warmly, the noise low in his throat. “But it's one of life’s greatest pleasures,” he asserts, lacing his fingers with yours as again those lips are by your ear. “You so very needy and hungry for me is the best high there is,” he sighs, his teeth biting your earring and tugging gently. “I have plans to ensure you are floating on a cloud of wonderment before we…” he trails off with an uncharacteristic bashfulness.

“....fuck?” you supply.

“...make love,” he corrects. 

And something warm unfurls in your chest as he pulls up off your body, and those hands map your skin again, this time on your lumbar region, digging his thumbs in, to the point you cry out in relief and surprise. The unrealised tension you hold in your hips from being bent over that bench by Anthony seems to melt away as Benedict digs in and releases every knot you hold tight in your lower spine. The magic of his skilled hands has you docile and breathing slowly under his ministrations. Eyes closed and floating, just as he said. Your senses dialling back to a languid, almost tenuous hold on your surroundings, your experience rooted in your body and the newfound relaxation he brings to your being.

This time when his hand slips lower, you slowly suck in an anticipatory breath through your teeth that you do not release until his fingers swipe achingly light over your clit. You exhale raggedly as he finally takes pity on your weeping folds, and with a playful smirk you feel against your neck as he leans in to kiss there, he starts to circle your clit in a soft, expert tease.

You breathe his name, allowing him to fill your every thought, every fibre. Take over your body and direct it like a symphony, increasing the pressure of his touch and making you moan and bite down on your knuckles resting under your chin, pushing your pelvis into his hand.

“That is darling girl,” he encourages, his voice rich and resonant, seeming to vibrate through your very being.

“More,” you plead and grab the hand not between your legs, bringing it to your face and sliding your lips around two of his long, deft fingers, sucking them deep into your mouth, pulsing your tongue over the underside, tasting the massage oil and a flavour that is all him. It’s a catalyst that makes him groan and surge his naked body over you, all heated, toned flesh.

“Please,” your appeal garbled around his fingers that you suck as if it were his cock, deep pulls all the way down to his knuckles, and he growls and curls his fingers, hooking around the back of your lower teeth, his blunt nails digging into the sensitive flesh under your tongue. Something becomes more urgent between you as his rigid cock drags over your tailbone, his fingers curling around your clit more insistently as you instinctually spread your legs wider.

You whimper as he withdraws his fingers from between your legs and your mouth, and they crest your hip bones, painting your skin with your own arousal and saliva.

“Turn over, my girl,” he requests sotto voce, and you do so, rolling over so your oiled back is on the soft sheet he brought in. Your field of vision is filled with him—his face beaming down at you with a loving expression, his smooth chest and his skilled, soothing hands, which now move to cup your breasts as he settles between your legs, his cock brandishing your inner thigh. Greased fingers slide around your nipples, and you groan and push up, loving the slide and warmth.

“Kiss me,” he asks, his pupils blown and glittering, his lips an inviting sheen of pink.

Craning your head off the pillow to meet his lips, it's a tease for a few moments, and then you are hungrily devouring each other, tongues sweeping over one another, breathing shared air, swallowing the little noises you both make. As you kiss, your legs slip open wider until you feel him rocking the apex of your thighs, his public hair tickling your clit. The drawn-out tease makes your belly simmer with fire, ready to beg.

Then he is slipping down your body, his mouth hot and hungry on your nipples, making you pant and writhe as he uses an edge of teeth and then a swipe of tongue; a jolt right down to your clit. He moves lower; you know where he is headed, your clit pulsing and engorged as he heatedly glances up at you from your belly, a knowing crooked smile crowding over his handsome features.

When his nose trails into your thatch of hair and he inhales deeply, you can’t help clenching, your cunt so desperate for him, spellbound by his desire focussed so wholly on you. Almost aggressively, he manhandles your legs around his shoulders and, with no preamble, dives face-first into your folds, the noise and heat making you startle.

He has an almost vice-like grip on your thighs as his tongue parts your folds and unerringly finds your clit. He feasts on your body, even more than that night at Aubrey Hall when Anthony sat outside the room listening to you both. There was the frisson of being caught that gave that night an edge, but tonight feels different, more profound, and his efforts more meaningful but just as untamed. He gives long, languorous strokes with the flat of his tongue and sucks your labia into his mouth, tugging a fraction so you feel the pull in your throbbing clit. Then he spreads his mouth wide over that sensitive nub and sucks hard, a sudden stabbing sensation making your hands fly into his hair and push yourself into his face. 

He groans encouraging words, drinking from your body, swirling his tongue until he hits a spot that makes you squeak, your nails scraping hard on his scalp. His tongue rolls around in increasingly fervid motions, and you feel that hook deep inside, coiling for release, needing a little more to push you over. As if sensing it, he snarls and glances the edge of his teeth onto that most responsive pinpoint; you call out his name loudly, rapidly circling that pinnacle. 

“Please.” That one simple needy word from his lips has you undone.

A tide hitting you, that tension snapping inside. Strong waves emanate from your core, ecstasy racing through every inch of your body, your grip on his hair slackening as he drops gentle kisses onto your lower belly, making his way back up as your body shivers with aftershocks.

“Look into my eyes,” he implores quietly as he hovers over your face, your scent strong on his chin and lips.

You do, and while you are still fluttering from the orgasm, he slowly breaches your body, a solid mass stretching you open in that way that is so hypnotising. Your breath catches, and he growls as you pulsate around him. 

He utters a curse, dropping his head briefly. Then his head snaps back up, his gaze intense but full of something else, something fundamental, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat as he bottoms out inside you, letting out a shuddering breath before placing a doting kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“Tell me how you feel,” he hums over your cheekbone, his fingers trailing over your arms, shoulders, and neck, just holding still within you, letting you feel the way his cock holds you open, how you cling to him. 

“Wonderful,” you confess, your body thrumming and yet relaxed, all your muscles before so aching now revived and sated. 

With another kiss, he pulls back from within you and then pushes forward slowly, cupping your jaw, studying every inch of your face, watching your mouth form little noises as he takes you tenderly, slowly. He bends down and whispers inaudibly into your neck. It sounds like a foreign language, maybe French, but it’s so quiet under the crackle of the logs in the fire that you can’t decipher; you just let the sounds roll over you, into you, filling your heart. Distantly, you hear the patter of cleansing rain on the window behind the curtains, lending the room an even greater feeling of a haven, a cocoon from the outside world. 

Your body undulates under his as he takes more pronounced thrusts, building a slow but steady rhythm that feels carnal and ethereal, as if you are floating above yourself, being taken away on a wave of serenity. 

This isn't fucking; this is love-making. Something you have never really done before, something that feels too vulnerable and dangerous. But yet all you feel is safe and cared for, his eyes soft, his lips quirked in an affectionate smile. This is the succour your mind and body needed. To quell the turbulence and roiling guilt that has been clawing at your being. Torn between the man inside you now and his brother. So alike, so different, two sides of a coin you cannot choose heads or tails of. 

You push up into him, angling your pelvis so he hits a spot inside you that makes your eyes roll, and your mouth slacken, greedy for another high so soon. He kisses your lips, breathes your air, encourages you with mumbled words, moving to pepper little kisses over your cheeks, making your scalp tingle and ripples run down your limbs. Your hands run greedily over his flesh, mapping his back muscles, scraping your nails over the globe of his bottom, pressing your thumbs into his flesh, wordlessly asking for more. Always more.

He tilts and moves deep, a spear just the right side of painful, causing you to moan; there is a triumphant chuckle as he kisses your eyebrows. The easy intimacy of the moment is so enchanting and yet so visceral. Every sense heightened, every touch burning, as if he had taken ash from the fire and painted it over your skin. You plead with him, pulling your legs higher, wrapping around his hip bones, wanting him to be so deep inside you carry a physical reminder tomorrow. 

“My girl,” he whispers, the tone possessive and a hand slides between your head and the pillow, grasping and then twisting the hair at the nape of your neck between his strong fingers, a mild sting on your scalp as this take on a different more frenzied edge. You rasp his name, wanting nothing more right now than to be utterly owned by him under his thrall. 

“Bite me,” he begs, and you falter. “You heard me,” he gusts into your left ear, angling his neck by your mouth. “I marked you with my teeth, darling girl; it is only fair you do the same.”

Something about the nature of the offering, the way he sees you as an equal, makes you feral, and you pitch forward and sink your teeth into the sturdy column of his neck before you can even engage the higher logic part of your brain. He grunts and thrusts harder, hissing for you to take more, your teeth clamping down before backing off to lathe your tongue over the bite mark.

Pulling back and seeing the evidence of your mark on him makes you clench around his cock with such force he growls and begs you to do it again. You do, his cock feeling huge, steely, so invasive. He stills, buried to the root inside you, and shudders all over.

“I never want to be anywhere but right here,” he groans fervently, “inside you, please, god, please let me.” The tone tinged with desperation as he restarts, urgent, spiking, the hand in your hair tangled amongst the strands. And in this febrile moment, it’s what you want too—always to have him touching you somehow.

You cry out as his other hand slides heavily down your contours, and his fingers plough into your folds, finding your clit and spiralling you higher, his gaze burning you.

“Come apart for me again, please; I'm so close,” he confides, his hips slightly erratic.

It won't take much, your whole body in a tinder state, and he is quickly hurtling you towards a new peak, engulfing your senses, enclosing your body, feeling as if he is everywhere at once.

There are a few rapturous moments where your whole body tenses, circling that abyss, robbing your lungs of air, your eyes fluttering closed. Before one more nudge of his cock and fingers and you are tumbling, freefalling. Every synapse fires as your core clenches on him, squeezing so hard you distantly hear him making noises that are almost inhuman, and you cry out as he quickly withdraws from your body, still pulsing and wanting; he splashes his release over your thighs with a grunting shudder.

He collapses atop you, breathing heavily, and for a few moments, there is nothing but the sounds of your panting, the dying log on the fire and the steady drumbeat of rain outside. When he pulls up again, his mien is affectionate, untangling himself from you and arranging your bodies into a comfortable hold.

He grabs the corner of the sheet and dutifully cleanses your skin of his seed, kissing your temple, staring at you with a reverence that feels almost too claustrophobic now the maelstrom of desire has passed. You bite your lip, and in the rush of chemicals in your bloodstream, you are suddenly overwhelmed. By his devotion, by the magnitude of what you feel for him and for Anthony.

“This is impossible,” you lament, fiercely willing the tears welling in your eyes not to fall. He knows precisely what you are referring to without you having to say it. He twists you in his arms so you lay atop him.

“I never want you to be in turmoil because of me,” Benedict says, his eyes clouding with emotion. He grabs your hands and kisses the back of your knuckles with a hot press of his lips. “If it means you have peace, I will desist. Step away,” he offers chivalrously. “I will always, always hold what we have dear, but I cannot be a source of distress to you.”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of not being with him. 

“No, Benedict!” it’s a gut reaction from deep inside, a swoop in your stomach that feels like you are falling. “Please, do not. I….” words seem to fail on your tongue. “Just do not…,” you hiss. “You deserve me as much as your brother does. Fight for me,” you implore, knowing it is twisted to ask him to do this, to fight for you when you don't even know who to choose.

You swallow thickly as he looks at you through his lashes.

“I can picture it,” you say quietly, determined. “A life with you. Here, in this house. It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you answer honestly.

His eyes go soft and glassy, and you kiss his knuckles, echoing his gesture. And there is something bubbling up inside of you that feels decisive when….

There is a crash as the drawing-room door swings violently open.

And the bottom falls out of your world.

Anthony.

He stands in the doorway, his whole frame quaking, rain dripping from his jacket and the curls over his forehead.

Benedict startles and quickly grabs your chemise and his trousers, trying to conceal you both with the sheet the best he can. But it’s a pointless endeavour. It’s so very obvious what you have been doing, naked and entwined as you were on a pile of cushions in front of a fireplace with now glowing embers.

Anthony doesn’t say a word but strides into the room, breathing raggedly. As he draws closer, you see his face pinched, and his whole frame fizzles and crackles with energy. But it's not anger. It's something else, a nervousness that is verging on frantic.

“Don't,” his word is gruff and pained, screwing his eyes shut.

“Anthony,” you breathe.

“Please… don't… don't choose him,” he swallows and reopens his eyes. They are beseeching and desperate. “I’m not angry,” he adds, holding up a hand as if to explain, “I just… need you not to choose him.” You see the shake in his fingers as he lowers his hand. The hurt on his face makes your chest heave.

You hang your head as Benedict is silent next to you. Almost an equal in your shame. It was he who tempted you away from his brother in the first place; you can practically feel the guilt hanging heavily around his frame. In the silence, you quickly pull on your chemise and climb to your feet as Benedict pulls on his trousers and stays seated, curling in on himself, not looking up.

“This was tenderness, wasn’t it?” Anthony gestures to where you were lying, accurately surmising what happened from the surroundings and pacing slightly.

“Yes,” you whisper, almost ashamed, rooted to the spot.

“You… you never let me try that,” he utters; there is a world of hurt in that small voice, and he stops moving.

“I… I did not think you wanted to,” you decry, feeling a whiplash of confusion in your ribs. Anthony and lovemaking is not something you have ever considered; your dynamic always so much edgier, meeting your wilder needs.

“I believed I did not… until you,” those last two words whispered and lingering. “So much about you confounds me. Every time we are together, I’m left wanting more. Yearning for things I- I never thought I would. And now it feels like you are being stolen away…,” his Adam's Apple bobs hard. “I knew you would bond… with him. It’s why I begged you not to seek him out. I see your similarities… but… sometimes in life, we need someone different from ourselves. To be with someone who challenges us; that is a better balm for our souls. And so…”

The world seems to go into slow motion as Anthony drops to a knee before you.

“I want to humbly offer you me, my world,” you inhale a shocked gasp as he holds out a ring box. “Y/n, please be my wife?”

At your side, Benedict makes a forlorn noise, and he slides around in front of you on both of his knees.

“You asked me to fight for you, and by god, I will,” his pained appeal makes the ache in your chest spread wider, deeper. “I have no ring to offer you. I cannot offer you jewels and titles,” he winces slightly as he says it. “But I can offer you me and… and freedom. To pursue what you want in life, with me, as an equal, with no titles to burden you. All I can offer you is all we have experienced together. And my love. All my love. Always.” He holds up his hands almost in prayer and peers at you through heavy lashes, pleading his case.

“Titles are only a burden if you see them as such,” Anthony argues impassioned, his knuckles turning white as he grips the ring box. “As Viscountess, the world would be your oyster. And you deserve the world, y/n.”

“On that last point, I can agree; you do deserve the world” Benedict concedes.

Them steadfastly looking only at you but acknowledging each other’s points adds a weighted poignancy to the moment that almost hurts. Your head whips between the two. Both of these brothers, on their knees before you, their declarations sincere, their hearts on their sleeves. And yours beating wildly and torn in two different directions. An impossible conundrum. The very best and worse double bind.

You have no idea what on earth to do.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms

Anthony taglist who may be interested in the last few paragraphs lol: @queenofmean14 @elizah99 @debheart @amanda08319