#oddly weird about not liking dogs

[your-local-gothamite]

hey so uhh guess who went on a date with an aspiring supervillain (i’ll give you a hint their name starts with e and ends with vie)

[yan-maid-cafe]

Yandere Imposter

Imagine a yandere that pretends to be someone else...

You and your husband hadn't been close in years. A rotten drunkard that spent all day rotting away on the couch. When the two of you got married, you genuinely thought things would be perfect, he was such a sweet guy. But things just went downhill from there.

He was a sleeze bag. Spending all day drinking and refusing to work. Forcing you to get a job to support you both, but he couldn't even bother being somekind of househusband. No, he expected you to get off of work clean the house for him and still cook him dinner everyday. You felt more like his mother than his wife. And it was getting on your last nerve.

So imagine your surprise when you walk into the house one day, the smell of cheap booze and cigarette smoke gone. Instead replaced with the smell of soup?

The place was oddly spotless as you made your way into the kitchen, and there standing at the stove was your husband. Wearing an apron as he stirred the food in the pot. It was unnerving, if you knew anything about your husband it was that he refused to even step foot in the kitchen unless it was to eat. As if sensing your presence, he quickly turned around a smile spreading on his face. Was it just you or were his teeth whiter than usual?

Walking over he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, burying his face into your neck. A look of happiness on his face as he held you close.

"I'm so happy you're finally home, Dear. I went ahead and made dinner, you just go sit down and I'll be right over."

Since when had he called you pet names? You couldn't help but check his tempature, wondering if he was running a fever of somekind. Why else would he be acting so out of character suddenly. But he simply laughed off your worry and ushered you towards your seat. Immediantly serving you dinner with a blissful smile, a smile you had never seen on his face. You were so confused...

The night just continued on like that. One weird occurance after another. It felt like you were with a stranger, someone nothing like your husband yet identical to him. You felt like you were going mad, until night eventually came. Bringing you to bed, you and your husband lied down together. Except unlike everynight since your honeymoon, he pulled you closer. Snuggled up next to you as he whispered softly in your ear, almost bringing tears to your eyes.

"I'm so sorry for the way things have been all these years. You never deserved any of it. But as long as I'm here, I'll treat you perfect..."

Edan had always hated his brother. Despite looking identical, they couldn't have been more different. And it felt like his brother was always out to make his life difficult. If Edan got on the football team, his brother was the quaterback. If Edan got a B, his brother got an A. If Edan got honor roll, his brother got valedictorian. And eventually when Edan felt like he had met his soulmate his dear brother had to marry them. He could never win. It was all too much.

Especially when Edan began to take a closer look into the life his brother had stolen away from him. He was disgusted. Working his beloved like a dog day and night. Treating them as nothing more than a servant meant to do whatever was demanded of them, not giving them the life they deserved. The day he snapped came when he saw his beloved leave for work, continuing to stay near the house. He watched as his brother stepped out of the house hours later, walking over to one of the neighboring apartment doors and knocked on it. A scantily clad individual opening the door and ushering him inside. He saw red...

How foolish did that idiot have to be. Stealing away the life that Edan deserved, only to not even appreciate it. He got the privilege to lay beside perfection every night, and he still ran into the arms of some worthless harlot. He couldn't stand it. His beloved didn't deserve this mistreatment, and his brother didn't deserve their love. But what was he supposed to do about it...

He had never been so happy that the two were identical...

All it took was a little makeover and a swap of IDs for the two to look the exact same again. Now if he was ever found, Edan would be dead. He had to clean up all the blood from the floor, he might have gone a bit overboard but years of hatred and frustration will do that to a person.

But it was all worth it in this moment. Holding his beloved close to his chest as the two lay together, it was a dream come true. Burying his face in their hair, he continued to whisper to them, arms wrapped tightly around their body so that they couldn't get up. They never had to know.

" You'll get the life you deserve. We'll both get the lives we deserve, no matter what..."

[singing-telegram]

Anyone looking to make a proper Scooby-Doo adaptation please remember:

Fred is the charismatic face of the group and the strategizer. Later adaptations made him a massive himbo who chugs respect for women juice and those have become necessary parts of his character.

Shaggy is cowardly but also incredibly resourceful; let us not forget his skill at ventriloquism. Make Shaggy the skill monkey, who every episode mentions some weird skill he has that's previously unmentioned; that'd be an amazing running gag. Also, bring back the dry humor Casey Kasem injected into the og character.

Scooby is Shaggy's best friend, the other half to his two-man comedy routine. Independently of Shaggy, Scooby is also prone to be a bit mischievous and just kind of a little scamp. Play up both of those things.

Velma is the smart nerdy one, who also had a really dry sense of humor. I don't know why she was turned into the "I'm surrounded by idiots" character because, while as I stated, she always had a dry sense of humor, she was never mean to her friends and never talked down to them, or anyone else. Bring back the chipper Velma from like Witch's Ghost or Zombie Island. Let Velma be a little cutie pie. Also keep her as a lebian

Daphne was... originally really just "The Girly One" but later adaptations have fleshed her out, like making her essentially the muscle of the group, which is just amazing and should continue. She's also been cast as the oddly resourceful one. Shaggy is the skill monkey, Daphne is the one who has a tool for literally any job. Human Swiss Army Knife, which again, would be an amazing running gag.

Have Shaggy and Daphne bounce off-the-wall ideas for a plan together, Fred steps in to ground them, while still using their ideas, and incorporating Velma's theories about the case.

Make references to Flim Flam and Hot Dog Water

A Scooby-Doo adaptation should not be difficult, and must be done with love.

[0cta9on]

FFF2+4

length: +2k words

Genre: Smut

Le Sserafim Sakura x Male Reader

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Your hand lazily inserts the key into your apartment and unlocks the door. You want to slam it behind you in anger, but you’re too tired to even manage that. Working at the convenience store was supposed to be easy, just a little side hustle you can do to make some cash while you go through school. However, you failed to anticipate the long and arduous days of being yelled at by customers over things you have no power over, all for minimum wage. Your piece of shit manager doesn’t make things easier as all she does is sit on her phone while you’re the one that has to run around like a dog just to maintain the store. With a heavy sigh, you collapse face-first into the couch, just barely fighting the urge to suffocate in between the cushions and end your suffering once and for all.

“You good?”

You turn your attention to your roommate Sakura, who’s sitting on the floor, immersed in a fighting game on the TV. Sakura seldom talks and has a bit of an unnerving air about her, but she always kept the common areas clean and upheld her side of the chores so you considered her to be the perfect roommate in your book. You’ve managed to warm up to each other a little bit over the years, yet she always remained as sort of an enigma to you. You rarely talked due to always being busy with work or school, but whenever you did see her, she was always playing some kind of video game. Supposedly she makes money from streaming herself playing these games to thousands of people. You didn’t really understand, but you didn’t really need to anyway.

Your body slides off the couch onto the floor next to her, your eyes glazing over the flashing colors on the screen. “I’m fine,” you utter. “What are you playing?”

“Tekken 8,” she answers, her eyes never leaving the screen. “You wanna play?”

“I think I’ll stick to watching you.” Video games were never really your thing, but you could admire how skillful Sakura looked with the way her slender fingers quickly pressed the right buttons at the right time, her eyes glaring with focus. The blue light of the TV reflects off of her pale skin, making her look ethereal despite wearing a simple crop top and a pale blue tracksuit. Since when did Sakura look so attractive?

Before you knew it, you were suddenly face to face with the back of Sakura’s blonde head, your legs splayed out on either side of her. She was too focused on the game to notice you pressing up against her, which you took as a sign to take things further. Maybe it was the exhaustion and the stress seeping its way into your brain, but you needed some kind of release and Sakura just happened to be at the right place at the right time. 

Your hands slowly snake their way up her toned abs, grazing her soft skin with your fingertips and stopping at the hem of her top. Sakura hasn’t made any move to stop you, you wonder if she even noticed you at all. You lift up her top, pleasantly surprised to see her wearing no bra underneath. Her breasts are the perfect size and shape to fit into the palms of your hands, soft yet firm like a stress ball. With each gentle squeeze, all the stress you procured over the day begins to drain from your body, and your erection starts to strain against your pants, pressing into Sakura’s lower back. Lust takes over your body as your breath gets heavier and your heart pounds in your chest. Your lips latch onto the back of her exposed neck, kissing and licking her porcelain skin.

“You’re gonna make me lose,” she says, her voice monotone. You momentarily pause to chuckle at her nonchalance. Her body was being ravished by her roommate, yet all she cared about was winning her little game. You found it oddly cute in a weird way.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, punctuating your sentence with a kiss on her neck. “How about this? If you win while I play with your body, I’ll give you $10.”

“Make it $20 and I’ll let you fuck me afterward.”

“Deal.” Almost immediately, your hand lunges into the waistband of her pants while your other hand pinches Sakura’s nipples. To your surprise, her panties had a sizable wet spot on them - despite her lack of a reaction, she was way into this. As you apply pressure against the wet spot, you hear her breath hitch in her throat, her body shivering upon contact. You had her right where you wanted her.

As much as you would love to take your time to make her feel good, you also didn’t want to easily give up the $20 you worked so hard for. You move her panties to the side to give you easier access to the honey pot lying underneath. Her lips were already coated in her slick juices as you teased her hole with your digits. A small groan escapes her mouth right as she wins the first round with a sliver of health left.

“Ooooh, that was a close one, Kkura,” you tease, chuckling into her ear. “Maybe this’ll be easier than I thought.”

Sakura stays quiet, her focus on the game unwavering. Right as the second round starts, you shove two fingers deep inside her hot, velvety core, eliciting a cute moan from the Japanese girl. The slickness of her arousal coats your fingers, allowing you to thrust in and out of her with ease. The texture of her inner walls is like silk wrapped around steel - soft and smooth, yet firm and unyielding. You watch with enjoyment as Sakura slowly becomes undone. Lustful moans continued to escape her lips, and her fingers began to spaz out with each thrust of your hand, causing her character to lose health. Her grip on the controller tightened with frustration but quickly dissipates as you continue to finger her pussy. Miraculously, she somehow managed to win the second round, albeit with a smaller margin than before.

“Hmm, I guess I should start trying now, huh?” You quicken the pace of your hand while your thumb rubs against her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Sakura’s body. Her breathy moans fill the air as she tries desperately to ignore the lust threatening to take over her body. The walls of her pussy tighten around your fingers as she grows closer to her orgasm, her hips rocking subtly with each thrust, inadvertently rubbing her butt against your erection. Your breath grew heavy with excitement, but you didn’t want to end the fun just yet. Right when you think she’s about to cum, you remove your hand from her heat, denying her the satisfaction of a release. Sakura turns to you with a fire in her eyes, causing her to lose her first round.

You chuckle in her face. “What’s with that look?” you ask, taunting her with a sly smirk. From all your years of knowing her, this is the most emotion you have ever seen her display. You couldn’t help but find it cute how much she wanted to cum.

“Whatever…” She grumbles in annoyance before turning back to the screen. You place a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, a symbol of your apology. However, you aren’t apologizing for not taking her all the way. In fact, this is an apology made in advance - you’re about to make things so much more difficult for her.

Instead of pulling the trigger and assaulting her wetness like she wants you to, you decide to tease her by gently rubbing your fingers over the cloth of her crotch, applying just enough pressure for her to feel it but not enough for her to get off. Your other hand traces gentle circles on her breasts, tickling her skin with your fingernails. Sakura lets out a huff of irritation. She so badly wanted to feel your fingers inside of her, but unfortunately for her, her pride was stronger than her lust, and throwing the game for her own pleasure was just not a viable option. Her sexual frustration gets the better of her and the poor girl ends up losing the round in a complete stomp, leaving just one more round to decide whether or not you would be out $20.

“Ugh…” She groans while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What’s the matter? Just one more win and you get $20, easy as pie,” you say, smirking mischievously. Sakura simply shrugged it off, putting all her attention into the game, but little did she know how dirty you planned on playing the final round.

Right as the in-game announcer starts the final round, you push Sakura forward so that she’s now on all fours, her perfect ass in the air. Despite the compromising change in position, she kept her grip on her controller and her focus on winning. You didn’t let her stay comfortable for long as you grabbed the waistband of her velvet sweatpants and pulled it down along with her panties, exposing her plump cheeks in one fell swoop. Her pussy stains her thighs with her sweet nectar, ready for you to ravish her hole. All your patience is about to pay off as you free your erection from its prison, lining it up with Sakura’s core. With one thrust, you completely bottom out inside of her, causing a high-pitched moan to come out of her mouth. Your fingers sink into the plush flesh of her hips, pulling her towards you with each thrust. The sight of her modest yet plump ass vibrating with an audible slap of skin against skin is worth way more than $20, yet here you are, enjoying it all for free. Sakura’s pussy squeezes your cock with her slick walls, her climax quickly approaching thanks to the work of your fingers earlier.  At this point, your roommate was a complete mess in front of you, dropping her controller and letting her opponent knock out her character without any fight. Right as the big red “DEFEAT” pops up on the screen, Sakura lets out a long moan, announcing her orgasm. You hold her hips down on the base of your cock as her body shakes with pleasure, her juices spilling down your legs and staining your work pants.

Sakura collapses onto the ground as you pull out of her, giving you a moment to catch your breath. As much as you would love to dump your entire load into her pretty pussy, you decide to show her mercy in this instance. Games aren’t fun if you win them right away.

Slowly, Sakura props herself up. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath and you can’t help but become mesmerized by her breasts. In turn, she stares at your dick, still glistening with her nectar. She discards her disheveled clothing, and like a kitten stalking its prey, she crawls towards you with unblinking eyes. Normally, her face void of emotion would be hard to read, but at this moment, you knew exactly what she was thinking. Her lips hungrily latch onto yours as she straddles your lap, grasping onto your cock to line it up with her dripping cunt. Your hands automatically gravitate towards her hips as you pull her down onto your lap, forcing her to take all of you at once. Sakura groans into your mouth, wrapping her arms around your head and pulling you deeper into the sloppy kiss. 

As she bounces on your dick, you completely forget about all the shit you faced at work. Hell, you would gladly work at the shit hole if it meant getting to fuck your cute roommate every day. The thought gets you more excited as you meet Sakura’s hips with thrusts of your own, simultaneously breaking the kiss to suckle on her perfect bouncing tits. Her shrill moans and the slaps of your skin against hers fill your ears, driving you closer to the edge.

“S-Sakura… I’m about to c-cum…” You warn her, breathless.

“I-inside… C-cum inside me…”

With your grip tightened on her waist, you slam her down onto your cock, forcing your entire length inside as you shoot ropes of your semen into her cunt. Sakura meets your orgasm with one of her own, her pussy pulsating and milking your cock. Her body collapses onto you as both of you catch your breath.

“Well, that was something,” you say to fill the empty space. Sakura answers with a hot shaky breath against your neck. Five minutes pass before her breathing finally comes back to normal. “Soooo… Same time tomorrow?” You ask, half-jokingly. Sakura gets up from your neck with the same blank expression as always. 

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

[patricia-taxxon]

Attempting to extend sympathy to my younger self via self insert fiction.

"Hello there!"

I looked up from the lunchbox on my lap towards the source of the sudden loud voice, standing four or so feet away from me was a… dog? He stood on two legs, an eager look on his face. I looked around, none of the other kids were nearby.

"Hello?" I said back, a little confused.

"My name is Paul! What is your name?" The dog replied, both in an oddly formal tone of voice and… loudly, even though he was close enough to grab.

"My name's Bradley." I said, and went back to my PB&J.

"How old are you, Bradley?" asked Paul, in that same babyish but too-formal tone, almost like a robot.

"I'm eleven." I replied, without looking up.

"I'm ten!" He said back. "Nice to meet you!"

Several seconds passed, and he didn't move or look away. I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

"Nice to meet you too, Paul." His tail twitched as I said that, but he quickly moved his paw behind him to hold it in place until it settled. "Sorry," He said, before asking another question. "What do you like to do?"

His awkward storybook-speaking was offputting to me, but no one ever talked to me at recess, especially not completely out of nowhere like this. I answered his question, "I like playing Smash Bros," but I don't know why I thought of that first. I didn't really feel like finishing my lunch, I started to pack it away for later.

"What's that?" He said back. Was that a joke? He looked curious.

"Uh… it's a game, you can play as different Nintendo characters and fight each other." I waited for him to respond, but he was still listening. "You can uh… you can be Sonic."

"That's really cool!" He said. "Can I sit next to you?"

"Hm? Oh, okay, I guess." I replied. The dog's tail instantly sprung to life, and he once again moved his paw to stop it. "Sorry," he said, and moved swiftly to sit on the bench next to me, a bit closer than I thought he would. He looked up towards me like he wanted me to keep talking, or… it looked like he was looking at the top of my head, I wasn't sure.

Instead of explaining Smash Bros anymore, I asked a question myself to take the pressure off. "What do you like to play?" Paul blinked and his ears perked up. "I like Marble Blast Gold!" He almost yelped out, before drawing back. "But… shhh, don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

That didn't make any sense. "Huh? What does that mean?" I asked.

"It's the best game ever, you like… you roll, and you have to… like, you have to get to the end. Uh." He stammered. "But I'm not… I'm not allowed to play it anymore, my teachers said I'm too obsessed."

"That's bullshit." I spat.

"Yeah!!" He yelled, leaping up onto his haunches, tail wagging up a storm, until he noticed again, and pressed his paw to stop it. "Sorry." he said.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked.

"Doing what?"

"Stopping your tail." I pointed to his butt. "Aren't you like… a dog, or something?"

Paul cocked his head like I asked him a really stupid question. "Yeah? Why." He said, carefully.

We stared at each other for another couple of seconds. I didn't know how to word my questions without sounding awkward. "I've met a lot of… dogs, and wagging tails is pretty normal." I felt insane saying it out loud.

"Well I'm special!" Paul beamed. "I can talk, I can stand on two legs!" He got up and stood upon the bench, barely reaching eye level with me. "I'm in a class for special dogs only." He bumped a fist on his chest.

"Oh… okay." I said, not really understanding. I guess the rules were different for dogs that talk. It felt weird watching him do that though, and saying sorry for it too. "Are special dogs… not supposed to wag?" I asked.

"Yeah. No wagging." He replied. "'Cus humans don't wag."

"But humans don't have tails in the first place." I looked behind myself to check. "So you don't actually know if humans would wag or not, right?" I was getting seriously weirded out by this conversation, but I just kinda kept going. "How'd you learn to talk, anyways?" I asked, Paul looked like he was processing what I said very slowly.

"Like I said, I'm special." Paul repeated. "I'm learning how to make it disappear, like everyone else. First I gotta learn how to keep it still, though, so the magic works."

"Magic?" I said back to him. I mean, it wasn't all that weird compared to meeting a talking dog, but the word still threw me off.

"Yeah, lookit!" The dog hopped off the bench, hunched over with his back facing me, and started screaming like he was about to go super saiyan. I didn't know what I was supposed to be looking at, I was too startled. I might have been imagining things, but I think I saw his tail slowly retracting into his body like a lazy snake.

"Paul! What the fuck are you doing??" I shouted, but instead of responding, Paul just… went silent and flopped onto his side. I quickly rushed over, yelling "Are you okay? What just happened?" I looked over his body, flat on the asphalt. His tail had grown all the way back and… his body shrunk. His head was halfway tucked into his shirt like a turtle. His paws barely poked out of his sleeves, pointing directly forward from his body. He didn't look like a kid anymore, he looked like a dog that someone stuffed into some kid's clothes.

After a second, I thought it wouldn't hurt to poke him. "Paul? Recess is almost over." I poked at his chest, and he rolled onto his back limply. I suddenly felt silly trying to talk to him, like I was trying to reason with a pet. I tried a different approach, I clapped my hands and rapped on my knees. "Hey! Up! Food!"

Paul's eyes shot open, and he sneezed, before wiggling his legs to right himself. He took an instant and a half to realize where he was, and he suddenly cowered, looking straight at me, shivering. "Hey, what's wrong?" I whispered. He looked side to side, back at his own doggish body, and back to me. He blinked, looking like he was about to run away.

"No, no, it's okay." I tried to be reassuring, I'd never had a dog before so I didn't really know what I was doing. I almost forgot that I'd just been talking about Smash Bros with him. "Uh… do you like granola bars?" His ears perked up, and his tail swayed, his new… anatomy making it hard to reach back and stop it this time. I grabbed my backpack from behind me and rummaged through it for leftovers, I got the other of the two bars inside the wrapper, the one I didn't eat, and held it out in front of me. Paul approached me slowly, his nose twitching. "Can you… eat this, even?" I asked, as he sniffed the crumbly rectangle. He licked it soon after, and started nibbling and snarfing after that. I watched carefully, scared to make any sudden moves.

Paul looked up at me again, and I noticed his eyes were a little different. More definition, like I could tell a little more what he was feeling. His new eyes looked concerned, like he was waiting for me to do something bad. He reached up with a paw, it was looking a bit more like a hand now. I let go, and he held the bar himself as he munched away, sitting plainly on his knees.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Maghic." The dog said through a full mouth.

"That was magic?" I replied. "I saw your tail shrink, I'm pretty sure."

Paul swallowed. "How much?"

I thought back, the image was still clear in my head. "Like… barely at all. A couple inches?"

"Aw…" He looked disappointed in himself.

We sat in silence for a bit, but there was a question I wanted to ask. "Why do you want to get rid of your tail? Like… that looked painful."

"Mrs. Millie said I can go to the regular class if I can turn human," the talking dog said, proudly.

"You're pretty bad at that." I chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his ears without thinking. Paul looked like he was about to take it personally, but suddenly lost his train of thought as my hand touched his head. "Bwuhhf…" He woofed under his breath, his tail twitched and his paws lost their thumbs again. I quickly pulled my hand back, "Sorry! I didn't…" Paul's eyes took a second to form together again, and he looked right at me, "That wasn't fair." he whined, but his tail was still wagging.

"You really are a dog!" I said, glancing sneakily behind him. Paul followed my gaze to his own tail, yelped, and quickly pressed it down with both paws.

"Oh, come on, stop it." I joked. "It's psyching me out, it looks like it hurts when you hold your tail in place like that."

Paul turned his head back at me. "It doesn't… hurt," he said, slowly and surely.

"Hm. Whatever you say." I got up and went back on the bench. After I turned around to sit down, Paul was already running towards me. I didn't have any time to think before he bounded into my lap and butted his head into my chest while his tail went crazy. The impact knocked the wind out of me, but he was pretty small, I got it back in just a second. Paul yipped and barked, maybe there were some normal words in there too, but I couldn't understand it. This is where I realized he wasn't a very special dog after all, I think he was just normal.

I scratched behind his head and stroked his back through those baggy clothes, and this time he didn't mind. He might have been crying, it was hard to tell, I didn't really know what dog crying looked like. Eventually, he settled down. I couldn't feel his shoulders anymore, he seemed in danger of falling out of his shorts if he wasn't careful. I had a dog in my lap, an extremely normal dog. He stretched his body up and rested his head on my shoulder. "I like you, Bradley." He said, a little too slowly, and a little too loudly. I didn't know what to say to that, he barely knew me. This was all very weird. "You're a good dog." I said back, just because it felt right.

I could feel Paul's body shaping up into a more human posture again as he regained composure. He let go, turned to the side, and sat down on the bench next to me again, staring at his paws in his lap. I leaned over, "You okay?" I asked. He didn't answer, he just put his paw on my wrist and started twirling the hair under my sleeve.

I quickly jerked my hand away and covered the hairy skin. "Don't look at that!" I snapped.

"You have fur too!" Paul yelled.

"No, no, that's hair. I'm just…" I didn't want to explain, it was too embarrassing. I looked like I had my dad's arms, I hoped that no one would see. "It's a condition."

"Oh. Okay." Paul stared into the distance again. We sat in silence for another couple awkward seconds before the bell rang.

"Bye, Bradley." the dog said, scampering off.

"Bye, Paul." I waved after him, being sure to hold my sleeve up with my other hand.

[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."

[therhythmafterthesummer]

It’s Cold Out (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Roomies to Lovers Warnings: curvy/chubby reader · swearing · pet names · possessiveness · possibly inaccurate descriptions of birth control (this is a work of fiction, after all) · good ol’ rut driven intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Summary: Your roommate had been acting weird lately, weirder than usual. It was because of his condition, you thought, and in a way, you had been right, just not in the way you had expected. [This story is an instalment of my WereRoomies series].

Author’s note: Happy Halloween month to all of us! If there’s a God up there, only she can judge me for this. [31/03/23: this story has been re-edited as of this date. special thanks to @straylightdream​​ for reading this new edition before anyone else and sharing her thoughts with me].

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: intercrural sex · unprotected penetration [piv] · oral [F.Rec] · lots of praising (LOTS) · breeding kink (kind of) · copious amount of fluids · knotting

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

To say Chris had been acting weird this week would be an understatement.

You were sure it all started over the weekend, since you noticed his odd behaviour that Friday night when you were about to leave your shared flat to go hang out with one of your friends. Chris had come out of his room to get something from the kitchen, and he had stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw you there applying your makeup by the bureau in the entrance.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t caught him looking at you before, you were pretty confident that he’d often look at you–whether it was for instinctual reasons or what you weren’t really sure–but he genuinely looked like a deer in the headlights while he stood there completely paralysed. The worst part was that you weren’t wearing anything particularly revealing, just a crop top–that wasn’t even that short, it barely even exposed your belly–and some leggings.

“You okay there?” You asked Chris as you returned your eyes to the mirror, adding the finishing touches to your makeup.

“Uhh… Are you… Are you going out?” You didn’t look back at him while he talked to you, deciding that, since he was being awkward, it would be easier for him to speak without you looking at him.

“Yeah, babes. I’ve been talking about it all week, remember?” Dropping the eyeliner pen back on your makeup bag you looked at yourself one last time. ‘This will do’ was all you could think, satisfied with your face as you turned to look at your roommate. 

Chris wasn’t there anymore, but he emerged from his room seconds after with one of his black hoodies in hand. “Take this, pretty. It’s cold out”, pet names were a constant in the household, even among Chris’ friends, so you never thought much of it whenever he said them to you, or whenever you said them to him.

You chuckled, oddly amused by the sudden request. “I already have a jacket, Chris. But thank you”.

“No, no. You need to take it. Seriously”, Chris moved, getting into your space, going as far as to try to put the garment over your head.

“Woa, Chris–” You tried to push him away, but he ignored your protests.

“It won’t be any good if you catch a cold!”

“Chris!” You took a hold of the garment and jumped back away from him, keeping the hoodie in your hands.

Chris whined your name, he really whined. “Please, just… Take it. And wear it…”

He looked genuinely concerned, and it made you sigh immediately. You examined the item in your hands for a second, it was one of his oversized hoodies–oversized even on him. As you looked between the garment in your hands and Chris’ worried face, you couldn’t help but sigh. It was always hard for you to not give in to your roommate’s requests. “Fine, fine. I’ll take it, jeez”.

A bright smile settled on his lips as he watched you put on the hoodie, his eyes disappeared into crescents and his dimples were now on full display. The sight almost made you scream, he was just too damn cute and you felt your heart thump a bit faster against your ribcage as soon as your eyes landed on his form. 

“Happy now?” You huffed out, dragging your hands down your front, trying to help the fabric settle over your body. The thing was huge, the hem reached the middle of your thighs, and the sleeves pooled around your limbs, effectively engulfing your frame.

“Very”, Chris moved back into your space, bringing his hands up to fiddle with the hood of the hoodie, almost like he was trying to put it around your neck as a makeshift scarf. “Need a lift?” Satisfied with the position of the hood, his hands moved to your shoulders, dragging them over the fabric like he was trying to iron creases out.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine”.

Chris’ gaze moved to look you in the eyes. The movement of his hands on your shoulders stopped, but he didn’t remove them.

Ever since you met him around a year ago, there had always been something about Chris’ eyes that made you feel oddly giddy. It was almost as if his gaze was trying to intimidate you. Your brain always urged you to look away whenever you looked him in the eyes for too long–which was silly, considering Chris was one of the most welcoming, caring people you’d ever met.

You never gave into that fight or flight instinct. On the contrary, subconsciously–and sometimes, even consciously, you’d admit–you made it a point to keep staring right back at him, almost like you were challenging him. Which was probably very stupid on your part, since you knew really well who he was–what he was.

Clearing your throat, you mustered the most confident tone you could to speak. “I have to… Have to go now”.

Chris blinked slightly, as if your voice had brought him back from a place deep within his thoughts. “Right…” 

His hands moved from your shoulders to cradle your face, and he took one step closer to press a kiss on your forehead. Chris did this often, especially before you left the house, you had seen him do it to his younger friends, too. The gesture always brought heat to your face, and you honestly didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Have fun, love!” was the last thing he told you before he turned around and returned to his room.

You left shortly after that, feeling actually thankful for the hoodie once you stepped out of the building, since it truly was cold out, and the garment surely helped you retain heat much better than the jacket you were planning on wearing.

That day, you had decided to stay at your friend’s place for an impromptu sleepover, and the entire thing triggered the second weird interaction with Chris that weekend, just that this time it was over text.

< You: heyyyyy darrliinnng,,,,  < just so you know i’m staying here today < dont forget to lock the door tonight < AGAIN

> Xtopher 🐺: i never forget to lock the door pretty girl > lier > liiiieeeerrr

You scoffed at the message, but you also couldn’t help but chuckle after. The nerve of this man, as if you hadn’t arrived home late at night or even the next day after going out to find that he didn’t lock the door. After a couple of minutes, Chris texted again.

> Xtopher 🐺: u guys on ur own?

< You: no < my friend’s older brothers are here < we’re playing mario kart

Chris had read your message. You could see he was online, and you saw the ‘typing…’ message appear and disappear for five whole minutes before he finally replied.

> Xtopher 🐺: u wearing the hoodie > ?

< You: yes?

> Xtopher 🐺: show me

You rolled your eyes, just slightly annoyed–or you tried to tell yourself you were annoyed, in reality you had a smile on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit amused by Chris’ antics. You decided to humour him. After all, you hadn’t taken the hoodie off since you left your flat. If anyone asked, you’d just tell them the thing was comfortable–which wasn’t entirely a lie–but the truth was you continued wearing it just because you enjoyed the way you could smell him on it. It was almost like he was there, hugging you.

< You: [sent a photo]

> Xtopher 🐺: good > u should sleep in it cutie > its cold today

He’d mentioned this ‘it’s cold, you’ll catch a cold’ thing twice already. Chris could be overly protective of his friends, you’d seen it time and time again with your neighbours–his friends–and you’d even been on the receiving end of his worries many times in the past, so you decided not to think too much of it.

The moment you opened your flat’s door the next day, Chris was already pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let him hug you, because of course you did. It wasn’t like you never hugged, but it was honestly never like this–never had he held you this close, this tightly. Even if his behaviour had been slightly out of the ordinary you couldn’t bring yourself to not let him hug you, selfishly deciding that you would let yourself indulge.

What you had not been prepared for that day, though, was feeling Chris press his face to your neck, nor feeling his nose lightly brush the area right under your jaw. You tensed at the foreign feeling, and Chris tensed immediately after. He scrambled to pull himself away from you, mumbling a ‘sorry, welcome back. There’s food on the stove’ before he promptly disappeared into his room.

Things got weirder as days went by, Chris would simultaneously get close to you and try to keep himself as far away as possible. It got especially weird one night when his friend Seungmin came by. You’d hugged Seungmin to greet him–just like you always did–and you were both suddenly startled by a low growl. Seungmin’s eyes snapped in Chris’ direction, looking at him sitting on the sofa, glaring at you two. Seungmin had moved faster than you could even register the movement, walking as far away from you as possible and rambling on to his friend about something you honestly couldn’t even remember now.

You knew what Chris and his friends were. You knew what this entire building was–although you didn’t know it when you first moved here.

Your mother and Chris’ worked at the same company, so when he started to look for a roommate because ‘godforsaken bills are expensive as shit’, his mother had asked around the office for any possible candidate, and your mother had given her your contact details since you had been looking to move out for a few months by that point.

The building wasn’t particularly big, only four floors without counting the ground floor. You learnt after moving in that the building belonged to Changbin’s parents. Changbin was one of Chris’ closest friends, and that arrangement with his parents made it so the both of them and six other friends of theirs could move into this building.

At first, you had been hesitant to move in with a man, but on your first visit Chris had made you feel so comfortable and welcomed there was no doubt in your mind when you finally decided to move in.

You learnt of their… Condition four months after moving in. You had a date and the guys thought you wouldn’t be coming back that day. Chris was clearly not counting on your date being an absolute asshole and you running back to your flat that same night, because as soon as you stepped through the door you found three large ‘dogs’ in the middle of your living room with Chris and a handful of his friends surrounding them. They all gave you panicked looks, and after a lot of screaming and prying and questioning, Chris confessed to you that they were werewolves.

It had taken you a full week to accept the truth, but once you did every single odd behaviour you had noticed in Chris and his friends made a lot of sense. Their monthly ‘camping trip’ that would always conveniently happen when there was a full moon, how touchy and affectionate he and his friends were, ‘cuddles are a must!’ he would say often when holding onto someone, or how hot their skin was… The list could go on and on. Interestingly enough, they never made you feel threatened or in danger, on the contrary, they had welcomed you into their lives–into their den–and they even became your friends, too.

You had done a lot of reading on werewolves since then. Sometimes you asked Chris for details when you felt specially curious, other times you just went on the internet and dug out whatever you could find, but this odd behaviour of Chris’ lately was something you hadn’t inquired further into yet. You’d been too busy trying to study for your upcoming exams while balancing work, and that left no room for your mind to wander. Hell, you hadn’t even had time to fold your laundry, the pile of clothes being moved back and forth from the chair to your bed every morning and every night.

You were sitting on your chair, leaning over the desk in your room to scribble on the countless sheets of papers scattered around, trying to cram even more information into your brain. You certainly needed to take a break, but it was hard to bring yourself to. The universe, however, clearly had other plans for you.

The sudden knock on your door startled you, but you still turned around and mustered a soft ‘come in’, only to see Chris open your door shortly after, making his way into your room.

“Hey, you wanna eat–” His movements stopped and his eyes opened wide as his gaze moved from the pile of clothes on your bed, to you, back to the clothes, and back to you.

“Ah, sorry for the mess. I haven’t had time to fold my clothes”, you shrugged, pulling the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing–his hoodie–down your arm again, since you usually had to roll it up to your elbow when you wanted to write to avoid shuffling the papers around.

Chris’ eyes followed your movement, and the doorknob he still held in his hand rattled slightly as his grip around it tightened–tight enough to make his fist tremble.

“Shit…” He mumbled, only to turn around and bolt out of your room. “Shit, shit, shit…” You could hear him swearing even as he walked away, and alarm bells started to ring in your head instantly.

Your body moved almost on its own, following him down the hall. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” He fumbled with his bag that had been discarded this morning by the sofa, pushing his laptop inside. “Gotta go…” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not, but you pressed him further.

“Christopher, what’s wrong?”

“You… Shit… Go, go, go…” Chris made a beeline towards the front door, picking up his keys from their designated bowl on the bureau as soon as he made it to the entryway.

You couldn’t let him leave, not when he looked this… Well, you weren’t sure what he was feeling, but he was certainly frantic, and that couldn’t be a good sign. So you moved quickly, getting close to him so you could pull on his arm. “Chris–”

At that moment you were reminded that Chris and his friends were, in fact, otherworldly. You couldn’t even register the movement, one instant you were standing in the middle of the hall and the next you had your back against the wall, with Chris’ hands at either side of you and his body pressing you to it as his nose brushed against your neck, inhaling deeply.

“So fucking good…” His voice was barely a whisper, but there was absolutely no space between you, so you heard him. You heard him loud and clear. You should’ve felt intimidated, scared even. But right then, as you felt his warmth seep into you, and hearing the low tone of his voice, you couldn’t help but come to the realisation that you liked it.

“C–Chris”, your hands came up, your fingers barely brushed his sides, but then he moved away, rather abruptly.

“Fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry”, he brought his hands to his head, burying his fingers in his hair, and pulling the strands as he started to pace around the hall. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry”.

“Are you… Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask, he was clearly extremely worried, and now that you got to look at him better, he almost looked in pain. It was starting to worry you.

Chris’ eyes snapped up to meet yours, and an incredulous look settled on his face. “Am I okay? I just pushed you against the wall and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

You simply held his gaze, just like you always did. You didn’t know how long the stare-off lasted, probably a few seconds, but it felt eternal. You would’ve continued staring back at him had a growl not resonated from deep within his chest, making the fine hairs at your nape stand on end and your eyes go wide in surprise, while his shut tightly. “Stop looking me in the eyes, God. Do you have any idea what that does to my head?”

“What does it do?” You could guess what it did. You could guess because you had thought about it before. 

Chris was an alpha werewolf, he was the leader of his pack, and you knew that eye contact could potentially mean you were challenging his role in the group. And maybe you were. Maybe you were just trying to get him to react.

“Makes me want to–” Chris cut himself short, gritting his teeth and grimacing slightly. When he opened his eyes again, they were almost pleading. “God, I’m so sorry. I’ve been… Been trying really hard to not make you uncomfortable, but here I am being a total creep”.

You finally detached yourself from the wall, walking a few steps closer to him, and his body tensed at the proximity. “I don’t think you’re a creep, I’m actually really worried about you. You’ve been acting weird all week, what’s going on?”

“Shit, you… You really have no idea, do you?” Chris’ entire body was taut as he stared you up and down, and the motion made you gulp, almost audibly.

“About what?” You took another tentative step closer. Your brain did register the danger, it urged you to run away, but there was something in you that wouldn’t let you, that wanted you to move as close to him as you could.

Chris’ gaze moved back up to look at your face briefly, only to dip lower slightly, looking at your neck. His tongue peeked from within his mouth, licking his lips almost absentmindedly as he looked at you. “How fucking good you smell”, he inhaled sharply. The action somehow brought heat to your face, it made you blush. “Fuck, it’s been driving me nuts all week. It’s been driving me nuts for months, but especially this week…”

He took a step closer, only to stop his movements as soon as they started, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. You stayed silent, rooted on the spot right where you were, which he clearly noticed. “You need to get away from me. I’m… Dangerous, fuck. The things roaming in my head right now… Shit…”

You knew he was right. You needed to leave. But you really couldn’t bring yourself to. “What are you thinking about? Tell me”.

Shaking his head, Chris shut his eyes tightly, and a faint blush settled on his cheeks. Against your better judgement, you walked another step closer, just as your eyes roamed his form. You had failed to notice before, but now it was very obvious to you what was going on. Your eyes went wide in surprise, and you just couldn’t stop your tongue from leaving your mouth to lick your lips as you noticed the tent in his joggers. He was… He was huge, and you would lie if you said you were not affected by the sight.

Chris’ eyes snapped open, and yours snapped back up to look him in the eyes again. Shit, he’d caught looking, and something was starting to change in his eyes as he looked back at you. Gulping the saliva that had collected in your mouth, you found the courage to ask. “Are you… Are you going through your rut already?”

“So it seems”, he took a step closer towards you.

“Is this why you’ve been lending me one of your hoodies every day? To leave your scent on me?” 

His ears grew red, but he kept his mouth tightly shut. His eyes scanned your face for a bit only to finally settle on your neck once again, giving you a minute nod of his head.

“Be honest with me, Christopher. Why are you doing it? Is this something you do with our friends, too, to keep them safe or something?” You needed to know. You needed to know what he thought of you. Did he think of you in the same ways that you had thought of him all these months?

Chris inhaled deeply once again, and he took another step closer. “No, this is not something I do to my friends. I just can’t bear thinking there might be anyone out there that could smell you and get any ideas, especially not when you’re fucking ovulating”.

Your breath hitched in your throat, just as you felt wetness pool in your core, and Chris growled. He literally growled, like an animal, and the sound made you a bit lightheaded, but probably not for the reasons it should have. “Fuck, why are you… Why are you getting turned on by this? You know full well what I am. Go lock yourself in your fucking room while I can still think and hold back”.

“What if… What if I don’t want to lock myself in my room?” You licked your lips, and Chris’ eyes followed the movement, just as another low growl resonated from deep within him. “What if I don’t want you to hold back?”

You felt your back hit the wall again, but it was hard to register it when you could also feel Chris’ lips on yours, when you could feel him kissing you so eagerly. A small whimper escaped your mouth as soon as he kissed you, and you immediately kissed him back, grabbing his shirt tightly in your fists to pull him as close to you as you could while his hands found their way to your lower back. 

You could feel his hardened length press against your belly, and it made you whine. One of his hands dipped lower from your back to grope one of your buttocks while the other dragged up your front, finding one of your breasts and squeezing it. His grip was strong, firm and you couldn’t help but moan against his mouth, eliciting a grunt from his lips.

When Chris separated his mouth from yours, he diverted his attention to your neck, pressing his nose under your jaw and inhaling deeply once again. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good. So sweet and fertile”, the hand on your breast shuffled, and his fingers found your nipple, pinching it over the fabric of your hoodie–his hoodie. “I want you to be mine, fuck. Mine and only mine. I’ve wanted it for so long”.

Your inner walls clenched around nothing, and you felt more wetness pool at your core as soon as his words registered in your brain. Chris noticed, because of course he did, how could he not when his enhanced senses seemed to be able to pick up even the smallest changes in your body. He rolled his hips to grind his cock against you, grunting, letting you feel him. “You want that, too, yeah? Wanna be mine? Just say it, love, and I’ll make you mine. All mine”, he emphasised his words with another squeeze to your breast, making you whine.

“Wanna–Wanna be yours… Wanted to for so long, too”.

“Fuck…” He moved his hand from your breast, dragging all the way up for him to take a hold of the back of your neck while his lips returned to yours.

He kissed you with force, with need, his tongue made its way into your mouth to find yours eagerly waiting for him, ready to dance against his. You felt dizzy, completely overcome by his presence around you–his hands, his tongue, his mouth, the sounds he made, how warm he felt under your hands… All combined was steadily clouding your reason–not like you had much of it left since you had moved into this place.

Chris scooped you into his arms, the action was so sudden it made you yelp as your legs wrapped around his middle on instinct and your arms looped around his neck for stability. No one had ever been able to pick you up like this, this… Easily. 

You weren’t exactly light, you’d always been on the curvier, chubbier side–which you’d always liked about yourself, you did feel pretty, but you had never let anyone even remotely try to carry you. Yet, Chris didn’t seem to struggle one bit, as if you weighed nothing. Moving with purpose, he started to whisper in your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby. So good. I’ll treat you so well, just like you deserve”.

Your hands trembled slightly as you held onto his shoulders. “Chris…”

“God…” Chris reached your room, pushing the door closed with his foot as soon as he was inside. “Say my name again”.

“Chris”, your voice was barely a whisper, with your lips almost pressed to his ear as you spoke.

“Again” He dropped you on your bed, right on top of your unfolded clothes. Taking a hold of the back of his vest top, he pulled it over his head, and your mouth immediately watered at the sight. He was so incredibly handsome, you could almost feel your hands tremble with excitement at the prospect of finally getting to touch him just how you’d been wanting to

“Chris”, you repeated, looking up at him as he kneeled between your legs. He was so broad, you just couldn’t stop your hands from reaching out to palm his shoulders while his fingers hooked on the waistband of your leggings, and you gasped when he pulled them roughly down your legs.

“Fuck… Look at you”, his hands found your inner thighs, rubbing them up and down, dragging them over your skin for a bit to warm up, only to grip them tightly after, making you squeal. 

He pushed your legs apart, roughly, all so he could shove his face between your legs. His nose prodded your clothed entrance, making you moan softly, and a low growl seemed to have started to rumble deep within him. Never had you felt this affected by anyone, every single one of his movements had your skin on fire, your senses alert, and especially now, as his tongue dragged over the wet spot on your underwear, making you swear under your breath.

By the time you registered the movement, Chris had already torn your underwear apart, the thing reduced to shredded scraps that he simply threw on the floor, looking almost offended that the garment had been on you in the first place. His gaze fixed on your core, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips as two of his fingers came to collect your essence, spreading it all over your slit.

“So fucking wet”, his fingers moved from your entrance to your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had you whimpering under his touch. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did–” Your words caught in your throat when his fingers moved down again.

“Who?” He shoved two of his digits into you, the wetness between your legs letting them enter you with ease. The sudden intrusion had you throwing your head back, curling your toes, and you couldn’t help but moan at the feel of his fingers moving in and out of you, deliciously dragging against your walls.

“You, Chris!” His tongue swiped over your clit, and as soon as he tasted you, an almost animalistic groan escaped his throat. 

His mouth was relentless, kissing and licking your clit while his fingers fucked you open. Time and space slipped between your fingers, all thoughts in your brain disappeared as your mind filled only with Chris and his fingers and his tongue and the sounds he made. If him eating you out and fingering you felt like this, you couldn’t even fathom how it’d be like when he fucked you, but you were certainly more than ready to find out.

Two fingers turned into three, that later turned into four, stretching you open to your limits while his tongue on your clit coaxed the lewdest sounds to come out of your lips. The most alluring part of it all, though, was his eyes, staring deep into yours. It was almost as if he was finally getting his payback for all the times you had stared back at him in the past, like he was trying to remind you, to shove in your face, just who was the predator and who was the prey.

And it made you feel warm, really warm. Sweat collected on the back of your neck as his fingers stretched you open and his tongue worked you up. A low, constant growl rumbled from him, you could feel the vibrations on your thigh that rested on his shoulder, and you could’ve sworn it had your whole bed vibrating with it. All you could do under his touch was moan and pant and whine, completely unable to form any coherent sentences when he had his mouth on you.

Your orgasm hit you hard, your walls spasmed repeatedly around his fingers, and your whole body shook with your release. The onslaught of sensations had tears pricking your eyes, had you struggling to get air into your lungs. The fact that your upper body was still covered by his hoodie probably added to that slight feeling of suffocation as warmth continued to spread all over your body.

Chris finally pulled his fingers out of you, and he brought them to his mouth to lick them clean, savouring the taste of you on his tongue with a deep growl. Attaching his lips to your thighs, he peppered them with kisses, licks, and bites, leaving purple splotches on your skin, mumbling to himself–the words falling against your skin, vaguely sounding like ‘so pretty, so, so pretty, so pretty, my pretty girl, gonna make you feel so good, gonna stuff you full, pretty, pretty’.

When he was satisfied with the art he left on your thighs he shuffled so he could kneel between your legs again. “Off”, Chris tugged on the hem of your hoodie, pulling it off of you in one swift motion, making your body bounce a bit when you fell back onto the bed as soon as the garment was off. “Fuck… Have you been wearing my clothes like this all the time?” His hands dragged all the way from your neck, down your breasts, your belly, and you could see his eyes taking you in, roaming all over your naked form as you laid under him.

“Only when–” Your words caught in your throat when his fingers started to tease your nipples, when you noticed his eyes were absolutely fixed on your chest. Chris seemed to be completely enthralled by the sight in front of him, by your sensitive skin under his fingertips, by the sounds he was coaxing out of your mouth with his fingers working your chest. 

Swallowing, and after taking a deep breath, you got enough clarity in your mind to speak again. “Only when I want to feel like you’re the one warming me up”, there was a permanent blush on your face, it had made its home there as soon as his mouth connected to your heat earlier, so letting out one of your deepest secrets hardly changed your outer state.

Chris’ gaze snapped up from your chest to lock eyes with you, and you felt your breath catching in your throat again. You had never seen his eyes looking this dark. He had the prettiest brown eyes you’d ever seen, but right now his pupils almost completely engulfed that warm brown of his, leaving only black behind. With one final lick of his lips, his mouth found yours, kissing you deeply, hungrily. You’d admit that during your time living here, you had wondered many times how his lips would feel, how’d it be if he kissed you. They looked soft, plump, and now that you finally got a taste you were sure you wanted to have them on you as many times as possible, for as long as possible.

Taking your lower lip between his teeth, Chris moved away from you, eliciting a whimper to escape from your mouth once he released you. He got rid of his joggers, and his cock stood tall and proud between his legs. Fluid leaked from his tip–a lot of fluid–clear and thick. He collected some of it in his palm, coating himself thoroughly before he finally wrapped his fingers around his length, pumping it. 

You propped yourself on your elbows, trying to get a better view, and you were completely captivated by the sight of his head popping out of his fist as he jerked himself, subconsciously licking your lips while you stared. He was bigger, girthier, than any regular human you’d seen, much less fucked. Quite honestly, it was slightly intimidating, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not when the only thoughts in your mind right now were Chris and his fucking werewolf cock.

In one swift movement, Chris took a hold of your hips and pulled you further down on the bed, making you yelp. Your upper body fell back on the mattress with the motion, and he pushed your thighs together, moving them towards your chest. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he spread saliva over his palm before he wrapped his fingers around his length and coated himself in it–not like he needed it, since clear fluid continued to constantly leak from his tip.

“You look so good like this… You’re so fucking gorgeous”, bringing your legs towards him, he let them rest on his chest. His tip brushed your thighs, right where your supple flesh met, close to your core but not making contact with it, making you shudder as you felt his slick on your skin. “So soft, too”, Chris eased himself between your thighs with a satisfied groan, and your walls clenched around nothing while he held your legs in place and his hips started to thrust back and forth. “Even here, especially here. All mine to enjoy…”

Even if he was not actively stimulating you, this was quite possibly one of the most arousing things someone had ever done to you. The sight of his tip poking between your legs, the feel of his hips against your skin, all added to the look on his face as he looked down at you like you were his meal had you moaning softly, and even whining a bit.

“Fuck, I can almost taste how horny you are… Your scent’s everywhere. So fucking delicious”, his pace picked up, his hips collided against you with force as he fucked your thighs. Not only was it the sound of wet skin against wet skin, but also the feel of him hitting the back of your thighs that had you grabbing handfuls of the bedsheets, that had your whole body feeling tingling with need.

“Chris, please…” You weren’t even sure yourself what you were begging for, but as you stared back into his eyes you felt the urge to beg, so you did.

He pushed your thighs apart with force, and one of his hands took a hold of your hip, angling you just how he needed you to be, just how he wanted you to be, while the other took a hold of his cock, bringing close to your heat to tease your clit with his tip. The contact of his bare skin against yours had your breath catching in your throat, and Chris had a similar reaction as he stared at his cock brushing over your folds.

You knew he was clean, you two had gone to one of those pop-up clinics with Changbin around a month ago since he wanted some moral support after a scare. You’d gotten tested for the heck of it, just as did Chris, both coming up negative, and neither of you had been with anyone after–not like you could think too much about it anyway, you were so far gone you would’ve probably let him do anything to you without any second thought, because you wanted him to do those things, at this point, you felt like you needed him. Badly.

When his length started to make its way into your core, slowly stretching your walls, you truly got to feel his size. You were dripping, as was he–his cock still covered in the mix of his saliva and his slick–and he had prepped you with his fingers, but it was almost nothing compared to this. Bringing a hand to your core, you started to rub circles on your clit, trying to get yourself to relax.

“You’re doing well, baby. So good for me…” He was half way in, and you could hardly breathe. One of his hands moved to tweak your nipple, the stimulation coupled with the one of your fingers on your clit helped ease some of that sting you could feel between your legs.

“C–Chris”, you whimpered softly, looking him in the eyes. 

Chris was an alpha, you knew that already, but as you your eyes found his you were able to understand part of his nature. Not because he looked dominant, or lustful, or borderline animalistic, but because he looked at you like he wanted to protect you, to comfort you. Even if he surely wanted to fuck you into oblivion, the need to provide comfort to you was clearly overpowering that need to mount you.

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re a brave girl, I know you can take what’s yours”, with one final push of his hips he finally bottomed out.

Your fingers moved away from your clit as you exhaled–shit, you hadn’t even realised you had been holding your breath. Chris’ hands came to rest on your thighs, dragging them up and down in soothing motions. You felt impossibly full, completely stretched to your limits–had he been any bigger you doubt you would’ve been able to take him in at all.

“Fuck, so tight and warm…” His fingers came to toy with your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. A low growl resonated in his chest, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he licked his lips while he threw his head back to enjoy the feeling of your walls wrapped snugly around him. “I’ll fuck you so good, pretty. I’ll make you all mine”.

You took a deep breath, and your eyes found his once he finally opened them to look at you again. You were still slightly breathless, but that didn’t seem to overpower the determination in your voice. “Do it, then. Fuck me good, Christopher”.

As soon as the words left your mouth, it was as if something snapped within him. The comforting, caring look left his eyes completely, replaced by an animalistic, dark look. When his thumb found your clit, rubbing precise circles on it, and his hips pulled back, only to snap back into you almost immediately, starting a fast, hard pace, you couldn’t help but cry out. It was a lot, a lot but somehow not enough at the same time. 

Your walls adjusted quickly, the harsh sound of his hips hitting your skin made you dizzy, and it was almost like you could feel him in your throat whenever he thrusted all the way in. If you ever thought you had been fucked hard in your life, that had been nothing compared to the way Chris was fucking you now. 

His fingers dug on the skin of your thigh, you could already feel bruises forming under his hold, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was having his hands on you, having his body over you, and having his cock fuck you open.

His thumb never left your clit, and before you could even register it building, your release hit you, making him growl at the feeling of your walls pulsating around him as he kept pounding into you. “So good for me, love. You’re taking me so fucking well. Can’t wait to fill you to the brim”.

Barely giving you time to catch your breath, Chris pulled out of you to take a hold of your waist, swiftly flipping you on your stomach, so he could pull your hips up for your lower body’s weight to rest on your knees. “Look at these hips, fuck…”

He pushed his cock into you again, taking the air away from your lungs as he resumed his relentless pace. “So fucking perfect… So breedable and ready for me”.

The hold his hands had on your hips was firm, strong, his fingers dug on your skin, and the fullness of your flesh gave him plenty of leverage to grip you tightly and push you back to meet his thrusts. “You’ll carry my pups so well, love. So fucking well. You’re so fucking perfect”.

You could barely keep your upper body propped up on your elbows, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to keep yourself mildly grounded. You honestly couldn’t do anything other than moan and whine and whimper his name. His hand sneaked around your hip to rub circles on your clit. You were sensitive from your previous orgasms still, added to the stretch of his monster cock, his fingers on that bundle of nerves between your legs had you almost seeing stars as soon as he started to stimulate it.

The sudden sting between your legs brought your senses back to reality, only enough to remember what alpha males experienced when they were going through their rut, something you had read once, and when you’d asked Chris about it he had blushed profusely and walked away from you, leaving you hanging.

“Chris!” You whimpered, feeling the extra stretch steadily growing within your walls.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, I know you can”, his fingers on your clit sped up impossibly faster, rubbing you for a while, building your release once again only for you to finally come crashing down.

His hips stuttered with the feel of your walls spasming around him, and by the way your walls stretched around his length, by the way his knot kept catching at your entrance as it grew, you figured he was getting close to his own climax. Chris leaned over you, with his chest against your back and his hand pressed your lower belly, lightly gripping your soft skin, he whispered in your ear. “Take my knot, baby. I know you can take it in your perfect little cunt. I’m gonna stuff you full of my pups soon and you’ll take it all, yeah?”

“Y–yes…” Your voice was hoarse, barely even loud enough for yourself to hear, but Chris heard you. There was no way he wouldn’t hear you when he was so close to you, when you might as well had been one and the same at this very moment. A low, drawn out growl reverberated against your back when he finally came, when he finally shoved his knot as deep as he could within your walls for his seed to fill you up.

It felt like he was coming for an eternity, his cum spurted endlessly from his cock while he rubbed his face on your shoulder, your neck, your back, mumbling ‘mine, all mine, my pretty girl, all for me…’ nonstop, mumbling the words like he didn’t even need to think about them, like it was all he could focus on while he filled you to the brim. A ringing broke free in your ears, your whole body ached and you felt truly stuffed completely full by the time Chris finally stopped coming.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he manoeuvred your bodies, taking special care to not let his knot pull too much while you moved. He laid you both on your side, this position allowed you to feel less of that pulling sensation between your legs, leaving only a dull ache that seemed to ease the longer you spent laying there in his arms. Even if you were achy and in a bit of pain, you couldn’t help but feel immensely satisfied, oddly proud of yourself after taking this much.

Chris pressed pecks on your shoulder, just as he caressed the soft skin of your lower belly while he whispered words of encouragement on your skin–‘you took me so well, baby. So, so well, I’m so lucky, you’re so good to me…’ He did this for a while, a while of his lips trailing kisses from your shoulder to your neck and back again, a while of goosebumps rising on your skin wherever he touched. His soothing, caring motions made your eyelids heavy, almost lulling you to sleep.

“I’m sorry, baby…” Chris mumbled against the skin of your shoulder, pulling you back from that semi-asleep state you were falling into.

You sought his arm, gently caressing him, and you felt goosebumps of his own raise under your touch. “Why are you apologising?” 

“For… For having you go through this”, he sounded apologetic, ashamed, even, and you didn’t like it one bit.

You scoffed, almost offended. “Don’t let it get to your head, babe, but this is probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had”.

Chris laughed, incredulous. “Fuck, I don’t know who’s crazier here, me or you”, he was starting to sound more like his every day self, and it made you smile. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy, just how you always felt whenever you spent time with him.

“Clearly me. I’m the one who begged a fucking werewolf to fuck me”, you chuckled, as did Chris.

A comfortable silence settled between you two, you took his hand in yours, bringing it close to your mouth so you could press kisses on his palm, his fingers, all while he kept kissing your shoulders, your neck… A comfortable silence spent just cuddling each other, enjoying each other’s warmth and each other’s company.

You were silent for a while, until a question popped in your head suddenly, and curiosity wouldn’t let you just keep it to yourself. “Isn’t it too soon for you to start your rut? I remember you telling me about the previous one, it wasn’t that long ago, only a handful of months, no?”

“It was supposed to start later this month, which is why I was still in the house…” During his last rut, Chris had left the flat for a few days to stay at one of the vacant flats in the building–something he and the rest could do thanks to an arrangement Changbin had with his parents–that was actually how you came to know about ruts in the first place. 

Burying his face in your neck, Chris inhaled deeply, letting out a content sigh right after. “Since my rut was so close, I guess your ovulation triggered it”, he chuckled, but his body suddenly tensed. He removed his hand from your hold so he could lay his palm flat on your lower belly, and when he spoke he sounded slightly panicked. “Shit… Fuck, I’ll get you the morning after pill”.

That made you laugh, loudly. “Are you for real? After all that talk about breeding me and me carrying your pups?”

“That’s… It’s a biological thing, okay?” Embarrassment clung to his voice, and it made you chuckle softly. “I’m on my rut, of course all the wolf wants is to breed you. I mean, I can’t blame him, look at these hips, fuck…” He took a hold of your hip, the soft flesh dipped under his hold when he gripped it tightly. When he finally released it, he caressed the area.

“But I… Uh… I haven’t even taken you on a date yet! We can’t have children like this”, he tapped his fingers on your hip, just as his lips resumed their motions, pressing soft pecks on your shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea either”, sure, it was hot while you fucked, but now that you can actually think like a person you knew he was right, and you decided to come clean. “Anyway, just so you know, I’m on birth control. The one that makes you ovulate still apparently”, you chuckled softly, and you felt Chris’ body relax behind you.

Chris hummed against your skin. “Lucky me… You do smell so good. You always do, but fuck, this week… Unbearable. Had me hard most of the time, could barely hide it. Can’t believe you didn’t even notice, it’s not exactly easy to hide…”

“I can’t believe you’ve been fucking scenting me all week”, you chuckled.

“Babe, don’t think ill of me, but I started scenting you a month after you moved in…” 

You blinked a few times, and you wished you could look him in the eyes right now. “What? Why?”

He mumbled something against your skin, something you couldnʼt quite catch. “What was that?”

Chris sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing you further into him. “I said… I couldn’t stand when you came home smelling of other men… I couldn’t stand thinking of them doing things with you, to you, that I wished I could do…”

A blush spread over your cheeks, and you were honestly unable to say anything other than a barely audible ‘oh…ʼ

“So, yeah. I’ve, uh… I’ve liked you for a long time, if you couldn’t tell…”

Slowly, you noticed how his knot started to deflate, and his seed started to pour out of you and onto the mess of clothes under you. “Shit… My laundry”, you chuckled, honestly not caring much about having to wash another load. “I like you, too, Chris. A lot”.

He hummed, further burying his face in the back of your neck as his knot deflated completely, allowing you to move freely again. “I can’t believe you had your clothes here on your bed like this, fuck… Almost gave me a heart attack”.

“Why?” 

Chris propped himself on an elbow, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before he moved over you and off of the bed. “Because, pretty baby”, he stretched his limbs, groaning a bit, giving your eyes the opportunity to roam every single defined muscle on his body. A sight that you really appreciated. “With your scent as sweet as it was, and you wearing my hoodie, it was almost like you had prepared a pretty little nest for me to fuck your brains out in”.

You had completely forgotten about nests and what they meant to wolves, and you felt heat immediately come to your face, blushing profusely. “Oh…”

“Subconsciously, it’s almost like you did”, Chris chuckled, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Stay here in your pretty nest, little one. I’ll prepare something for you while I can still think like a man. I don’t think I’ll be able to when my rut hits me fully. Need to keep hydrated and well fed so you can take me this well each time”.

Author’s notex2: so, as i added in the note at the beginning, as of 31/03/2023 this work was re-edited to better reflect my current writing style. i decided to update this post instead of posting it again because i just didn’t want the old version still around lol, but if you want it back, let me know. i saved it and might consider posting it separately for nostalgic value.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2022-2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback is always welcome :)

[foldingfittedsheets]

One day a few years ago I decided to go for a walk. My betrothed was hanging with a friend who was over and neither wanted to head out so I shrugged and went alone.

My neighborhood is exceedingly safe, there’s a little school right down the street and I’ve never had a worry. It was getting closer to dusk but there was still plenty of summer sunlight laying around.

The route I picked was a circuit, it ends in a cul de sac and spins me back homeward. Along the way is a small manicured loop around some grass. It’s surrounded by trees and shrubberies. There’s a little play place and it’s popular to bring dogs and kids while not technically counting as a park.

As I came up on the loop I saw a young man jogging the circle and no one else. He looked to be about late teens to early twenties. I didn’t think anything of it, it’s a popular place to walk.

But when he spotted me coming he froze. He moved off the trail. I was still a ways off so it seemed oddly preemptive. Then to my surprise he went even further to move back into the bushes.

I hastily took off a headphone so I could listen to my surroundings and texted my betrothed and friend to be like, “Hey, here’s where I am on my walk and there’s some kid making me nervous.”

I aborted my trip on the loop since I would have had to pass by his patch of bushes, and continued down the main sidewalk. To my alarm I saw him moving closer through the bushes and I sped up to clear his hiding spot before he intersected with me. I had one glimpse of his blank staring face from his hiding spot before I was safely passed.

I immediately called my betrothed to be like, “There’s some Bush Boy making me nervous, stay on the phone!” I finished the circuit and had to head back the way I’d come from. My betrothed asked if they should come get me but I was feeling a little silly so I said no. I was jumpy on the walk back but didn’t see him again.

It’s possible that he was just a weird kid but it spooked me. Now my betrothed and I will call someone a Bush Boy if they’re behaving like a creep or we have reason to suspect they’re up to something.

“So-and-so is being a real Bush Boy,” is a common phrase for us. I’ve never seen him again.

[aww-canon-no]

Floating

The truth is- Steve hates his pool.  He hates his pool because it was the beginning of the end of a lot of things.  He hates his pool because while he never did get to know Barb the way she deserved to be known, a single drop of blood into that cool water...

Well.

Yeah.

He hates his pool.

Unfortunately for Steve, the pool becomes sort of necessary. After getting the shit kicked out of him by Jonathan Byers, then Billy, then getting his ass handed to him by Russians before they drugged him with some concoction that left him at first with ringing ears, then with dwindling tones, the weird little audiogram from his doctor told him that yeah, he was lucky to still be able to hear airplanes and dogs barking.

In short, Steve was deaf.

He hadn’t ever met anyone like that before so it was just easier to try and ignore it.  To nod and smile a lot and pretend like he had any idea about what was going on.  That’s what his parents wanted him to do.

So.

Why not.

They were never home before, but they’re gone even more now that the upside down had tried (and failed- thank God) to swallow Hawkins and left Steve kind of a fucked-up mess both inside and out.  But they’re all kind of fucked-up inside and out so at least he’s not alone.

Steve’s house was spared and the kids come over all the time and have pool parties.  And Robin sleeps over more than she doesn’t, and her favorite thing ever is a morning swim.  Nancy drops in to do laps when she can, just to get a break from the madness that is her life.  Eddie uses the cool water as a sort of self-created physiotherapy for all the pieces of muscle he lost to demo bats.

Steve wants to not hate it.  He wants to say that it’s all fine and he’s making new memories and while they won’t erase what happened to Barb, something good can come of it.

Vertigo has become Steve’s constant friend, especially on what he calls his bad-ear-days.  The pool, oddly, helps.  Not swimming.  The pressure of water in his ears makes him want to die.  It gives him ear-migraines, which might not be a thing, but it’s totally a thing.

But he’s got an old blow-up raft that’s shaped like a donut and bobbing along the water oddly kind of evens out the spins and makes him not want to hoark his lunch up all over the deck.

So he lays there with his eyes closed, simmering in his new silence sort of feeling everything around him differently now that he can’t hear for shit.  He’s usually alone, but this afternoon Eddie’s there.  Eddie who sees way too much.

And it happens while Steve’s floating and Eddie’s soaking and drinking beer.  His eyes are closed and the sun is hot on his face, and then he feels cool fingers playing with the short hairs by his temple.

Steve feels himself rumble a noise- which is probably the most disconcerting thing about his deafness.  It’s not losing the sound of other people- it’s losing the sound of himself.

He as no idea if the sounds he’s making are audible because Eddie doesn’t react.  He just keeps touching.  And God he does that a lot.  Steve’s not used to it.  Touch always had some sort of end game.  Like with Nancy, it used to mean at least making out, if not more.  With the kids, it’s to comfort.  With Robin it’s mostly to get on her nerves because even when he annoys her, he still makes her smile.

But Eddie’s so free with it- without expectations.  He just gives and gives and rarely expects anything back.  Lord, though, Steve wants to give him something.  and he has for a while now.

Steve’s come to realize in the past months that his attraction might not be so...focused on one gender?  He watched Robin struggle with existing as herself, but also so unabashed about it when she felt safe that Steve realized maybe he was just not looking in the right places.  Because he wants to feel that and noticing Eddie’s pretty mouth and clever fingers has made him look a little deeper.

So opening his eyes and staring upside down at Eddie’s grin and his big doe-eyes and feeling his hands in his hair as Eddie scratches along his scalp...it seems important.

Like a Moment- with a capital M.

He sighs, and Eddie tracks the rise and fall of Steve’s chest.

Eddie leans forward and knocks their foreheads together, and Steve breathes him in.  He smells like cigarettes, chlorine, and sunshine.  And he just stays there.  At some point he rumbles out a contented hum which Steve feels rattling around his head, and it makes the dizzies a little worse, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He still doesn’t love his pool, but when he’s like this, he doesn’t hate it nearly as much as he used to.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Not too sure if you’ve done this but can you do TADC x Ghost!reader? Like they’re kinda just wearing a white sheet with black holes that resemble eyes, but there’s like nothing under the sheet so when it’s pulled off it looks like no one’s there

TADC cast x ghostsheet!reader !

Wasnt sure if I shouldve said ghostsheet or ghost... ghost implies like, traditional ghost but ghostsheet ties in the... sheet..

Still a lil sick and imma be blunt (not to you but in general.. actually I had ideas for nearly everyone for this idea!) I do be struggling with coming up with ideas for some characters for some requests <\3 I feel so bad when a characters part is dry or short 😭😭 I promise I'm invested in yalls ideas but some prompt/charafter combos do not give me many ideas <\3

CAINE:

Assuming this is romantic imagine he tries to lift up your sheet.. probably says something about "wanting a lil sneak peek of his darling" or maybe even making a joke that the sheet is a veil.. only to pause when theres visibly nothing there. His jaws probably hang open before he composes himself and tries to play off his shock with quick witted flirting. Of course this is all stemming off the idea that you forget to tell him/he has yet to see your sheet fall off so..!

POMNI:

Depending on how long your sheet is (mentally I'm seeing it at the ankle... oddly enough I can see the reader wearing these sneakers) she probably finds out you're... invisible... after accidentally stepping on the back of your sheet and pulling it off. Stops mid apology before just absolutely freaking out. Probably let's out a choked out scream thinking she just krilled you before you slap a hand over her mouth, so no one rushes in to see the commotion.. it's a little embarrassing for both sides...! You're basically nude..!!!/j

Or actually who knows, maybe the reader views it like that... I dont know the readers personality

RAGATHA:

Ooo okay so I think she would give you cute little pins and patches for you, so you can personalize your sheet more! Also ties in the hc that ragatha makes handmade stuff for her friends/partners!

A little thrown off guard when you go sheetless around her for the first time, but she quickly shrugs it off. Pro not the weirdest thing shes seen in the circus!

Offers to make you entirely new sheets, with patches and patterns and all that now that she knows it detachable

JAX:

Does the same thing as pomni except he would do it on purpose. Or maybe he yoinks your sheet and tries to make a run for it.... before stopping dead in his tracks when he turns around and you're seemingly not there. Of course assuming this is his first time snatching your sheet

Kind of just

Stands there

A little confused, really

Also assuming reader doesnt have shoes and just has their dogs out/j

Lets out a short Yelp when the sheet is suddenly torn out of his hand

I know you may be thinking that he would try to recruite you for his pranks but I wholeheartedly believe he would be terrified of you. Like all you have to do is take the sheet off and you can be hiding anywhere. For all he knows YOURE planning to do something to him, prank wise

Also likes having his pranks me a surprise

KINGER:

He sees your sheet abandoned on the ground and he thinks you melted, or perhaps you can "collapse" like gangle... huh, weird... goes to pick your sheet up, asking if you're alright. Before jumping st least 2 feet in the air when your voice answers his question... from behind him...

Oh reader please please dont do that ever again, his poor digital heart cant handle scares like that.. paranoia or not, I think kinger always hated jumpscares. Long before he entered the circus

Please apologize to him

ZOOBLE:

Now ZOOBLE would ask you to cause some mischief when they find out you're invisible under the sheet. Except, only target it to one person... jax. I mean think about it, zooble already doesnt seem to like him... and they're probably annoyed about the whole "stealing your arm to scratch my own back thing"... I mean I doubt it's the first time jax has messed with zooble, considering he did it so casually and how he treats the others... so if you're... down with a little haunting..

Similar to ragatha, I dont think theyd be all that phased. If anything they would think it's cool! I already hc that before getting stuck in the circus, zooble was into cryptids and the supernatural as well as general "disturbing" topics, so ghosts are right up their alley...... even if you're not really a ghost

GANGLE:

Thinks the sheet is cute! I was gonna say she finds out after accidentally tripping over your sheet and pulling it off, but... I actually.. dont know if gangle has heavy enough feet to do that

I mean she's ribbon

I think it would be revealed when you casually ask if you can.. "get comfortable" while in her room while you guys are drawing

Obviously, she says yes, because who wouldnt want someone to be comfortable... before literally dropping her comedy mask in shock when you literally. Take the sheet off

Of course this is assuming you dont view it as being nude, as opposed to pomnis segment but

Yeah

Tries not to make a big deal of it, last thing she wants is for you to feel bad... definitely takes her s minute to compose herself...

[liesmyth]

the locked tomb holiday exchange rec list

Behold! The good, the magnificent, the sad! The filth and the angst and the feelings! The weird shit that would make TazMuir proud! 💀🎉✨☠️🔥🎊

Here are some favourites from a skim of works posted for @tlt-holiday-exchange, both art and fic. They are MANY and they are JUICY. Find the entire collection HERE, and keep an eye on for authors reveal coming soon!

ART FILLS

A Beautiful Fairy Tale. Wake tells little Bomb a bedtime story but she can't mention a princess without talking about guillotines. Rated T.

Dubious Curiosity. Nona is curious. Nona loves everyone. And Nona wants Cam. (Camilla/Nona) Rated M.

Fingers In Her Mouth. Camilla Hect misses the Warden. Maybe he can lend a helping hand… even in death. (Camilla/hand!Palamedes) Rated M.

just guys being bros. Camilla/Gideon. Gideon touches a boob! A very happy new year to awkward butch lesbians everywhere. Rated T.

Pyrrha Dve Appreciation. Pyrrha & Nona, soft hugs! Rated G.

Stealing Breath. Camilla/Gideon butch-off make-out session. Rated G.

To Shreds, You Say? Pyrrha/Mercymorn/Wake fucking nasty. Rated E.

FIC FILLS

a buried and a burning flame. Coronabeth fucks Gideon's corpse. Rated E.

For all intents and purposes the corpse of the Ninth’s cavalier is a bad lay. That’s all fine, though.

a grave, deep and narrow. Camilla/Palamedes, GtN AU, Character Death, Tape Recorder Conversation Redux. Podfic included! Rated T

Only Lyctors were meant to leave the First House alive. Ianthe insists on bringing Coronabeth; Judith dies of her injuries. Camilla is stranded alone at Canaan House — alone, except for the persistent hallucinations of her necromancer.

affix. Coronabeth/Harrow, humiliation kink, improper use of bones, dom!Harrow, GtN era. rated E.

Cytherea doesn't go to Canaan House AU - Corona overconfidently approaches Harrow in the hopes of exchanging lab keys. Harrow humbles her quickly.

AITA for telling my dad I didn't like my birthday party? Gideon & John, In-Universe Social Media, Character study, Rated T.

I (20F) told my dad (45?M) that I wanted a cool birthday party, but he threw me a terrible birthday party instead. Am I really the asshole for telling him I didn't like it?

and kings shall come out of thy loins. Gideon/Ianthe, crack treated seriously, body horor, SNAKES. Rated M.

Ianthe saves God from the stoma and the River and all she has to show for it are these fucking snubes.

come, dearest heart. Lyctor Palamedes AU, HtN era. Camilla/Palamedes, Pyrrha/Palamedes, Pyrrha/Camilla/Palamedes. Rated E.

In Canaan House, Palamedes Sextus unwillingly ascends to Lyctorhood to put an end to Cytherea the First's rampage. He's left heartbroken, grieving, and terribly, terribly lonely.

Don't Care If You Think I'm Dumb (I Don't Care At All). Gideon/Ianthe, Gideon as Kiriona, Unwholesome Tower Princes Bonding ft. bad sex and retail therapy. Rated E.

The newly christened Kiriona Gaia is not having a good time on the Mithraeum. At least she has Ianthe there to make her worse.

Follow Your Dreams, Never Let Them Die. Gideon/Harrow, Pokemon trainers AU! Rated T.

On her Pokemon Journey, Gideon Nav approaches the mysterious Drearburh City Gym - but something feels oddly familiar.

Gaia's Natural Market. modern AU, retail hell, Harrow/Gideon, Harrow/Ianthe, Gideon/Ianthe. Rated T

RING-A-DING-DING, the Holiday's are here! And nothing says "Give!" like the bounty of the Mother Herself, so come on by to GAIA's Natural Market! Treat your family to a home-cooked meal with only the PUREST of ingredients - all Produce Organic, all Products non-GMO, and all Smiles Authentic and free of Toxins!

Good Girl. Coronabeth/Ianthe, puppyplay, muzzles, rated E.

Coronabeth is Ianthe's big dicked bimbo puppy. Ianthe's into it.

Goodnight, New Rho. Camilla & Nona. Domestic Fluff, Missing Scene. Rated G.

Nona gets a bedtime story. Camilla reminisces about growing up with an older sister. They both sleep well, despite a notable lack of dogs.

In the Empire of the Deeps. Gideon/Nona/Ianthe, Gideon/Ianthe, Pirate AU, monsterfucking-adjacent, Nona is an eldritch sea creature. Rated E.

A chance encounter on the beach. Ianthe is manipulative, Kiriona is sad, and Nona is not as innocent as she seems. Sometimes, you might yearn for one person and meet another one. Sometimes, you have to take what you can get.

just like normal. Ianthe/Coronabeth, Cytherea is also there. Penis in vagina sex, Exhibitionism, Squirting. Rated E.

Ianthe gives herself a cock, and Corona is increasingly bewildered that she hasn’t been allowed to sit on it yet.

language of its own. Camilla/Palamedes. Worldbuilding, idiots to lovers, pre-canon. Rated T.

Camilla Hect has to do an erotic poetry final.

Masochism Tango. Porn with feelings, knifeplay, vivisection, lyctor-typical everything. Rated E.

Two occasions in which Pyrrha Dve had the pleasure of being under Cytherea's knife, and Mercymorn had the pleasure of Pyrrha Dve.

METHODS OF SUBDUCTION. Judith/Cornabeth, Judith & Varun. Planetary science rizz. Rated M.

Varun the Eater teaches Judith Deuteros how to flirt.

midnight mass. Mercymorn/Cristabel, pre-canon, Character Study. Rated T.

A lifetime before the resurrection and two decades before the apocalypse, a novice nun and a third-year medical student discuss goodness, passion, and salvation at midnight on Christmas morning.

motherhood. Mercymorn uses flesh magic on Wake. Hate sex ensues. Body horror, motherhood as violence, canon compliant. Rated E.

“I will kill you,” you say, with all the placid fervor of a religious convert. When you’re on the edge of real violence, you lose that tense little furrow in your brow—it’s beautiful, really. “Please give me a reason.”

My Love Overflows. Corona/Ianthe, Strap-on, Dirty talk, Impact Play, Hair Pulling, Bladder control. Rated E.

The one in which Corona pisses all over herself at Ianthe's whims.

name and rank. Judith/Coronabeth, Judith & Varun. Judith's failwoman swag! Rated T.

As Judith lies dying, she has nothing but time. Varun the Eater uses it to teach her how to flirt with the Princess. Don’t worry. Varun has got this!

New Rule. Mercymorn/Pyrrha, Ranch AU, stablehand Pyrrha, boss/employee relationship. Rated E.

Never hire stablehands who are too handsome and capable for their own good.

no shade in the shadow of the cross. Cytherea/Mercymorn, angst, fisting, two pillow princesses NOT making it work! Rated E.

Cytherea and Mercymorn have an ill-timed tryst.

per my last email. Camilla/Palamedes. Academia, banter. On peer review and multitasking. Rated M.

“Warden,” she said patiently, “you want me so badly it’s making you stupid."

RISKING OUR LIVES FOR UNIVERSITY HOLE???? 🤯😳 University AU, Team 69. The hole is a basement to be clear! Rated T.

The difficult part of visiting the local haunted house for a feature in the university magazine is not actually the visiting; it’s the writing about it afterwards.

So Messed Up. Ianthe/Coronabeth. Puppy play, collars & leashes, tail plug. Rated E.

Ianthe using her flesh magic to give Corona a big cock for petplay because she loves the idea of her sister being a big dicked bimbo puppy girl who just wants to rut into her.

The Great Gamete Gambit. Camilla & Palamedes, Pre-canon, worldbuilding, sixth house reproductive practices. Rated G.

Palamedes and Camilla have an important package to send, but there's been a heist in the gamete repository! Can the 15-year-old Master Warden and his cavalier crack the case?

The Sextus Scandal. Camilla/Palamedes, Epistolary, Pre-Canon Divergence. Rated E.

Transcripts and documents relating to the disciplinary hearing and subsequent resignation of Master Warden Palamedes Sextus.

Ways to Be Perfect. Babs/Colum Asht, GtN era, Rated M.

When Naberius first glanced across the supper table at Colum Asht, he didn’t immediately get the impression that he was liked.

The end!

Thank you for making it this far. If you enjoyed any of these works, or anything else in the collection, please drop a comment to make our creators feel appreciated <3

[post creators reveal exchange wrap post]

[syrupfog]

Law thinks he has it figured out. 

That scrawny kid who just wandered into the university’s yearly flu vaccine clinic Law was manning and just DECIDED that Law was his new best friend— Luffy, he said his name was. Monkey D. Luffy, as if anyone could take that name seriously.

Law thinks he’s figured it out, though. How Luffy CHOOSES the people he does, and adds them to his group. 

(not that Law is IN his group, absolutely not). 

Sanji’s the most obvious one. He’s INCREDIBLY useful, no one could deny that. He cooks obscene amounts of food for everyone.

Nami, too, feels like a given. She has CONNECTIONS, knows how to use them, keeps records and receipts and organizes all the parties that Luffy spontaneously seems to decide on. She’s the brains. 

Zoro Law struggled with at first, the man seems to just think about swords—

but seeing them out in public, Law realizes he’s like a human guard dog, leering over Luffy’s shoulder at anyone who disagrees. Chopper seems a little young— is the kid even in undergrad?— but he’s first aid trained and Law’s seen him put it to use on numerous occasions already.

Now Nico Robin— how on EARTH Luffy managed to make friends with the youngest tenured professor GLU has ever had is beyond Law, but she has connections in academia the way Nami does on the streets. Law would bet money that Robin’s the only reason Luffy is still enrolled.

Usopp’s an odd one, but he’s… well, funny might not be exactly the right word. Entertaining. And more importantly can fix anyone’s computer or phone within an hour. He adds weird features when he does, but his work is solid.

Franky is a GIVEN, he’s the one with the converted old double decker bus — Law didn’t think they even HAD those here — and auto garage. Luffy says the word and he’ll fix anyone’s car free of charge. It’s ridiculous what Luffy can get people to do.

Brook is also obvious. Most famous musician this side of the East Blue, how on EARTH did Luffy meet him? Regardless, the man’s surely a millionaire slumming it with the rest of them for the chance to play what he wants to play and be appreciated for it

Jinbei was confusing until Law learned how they met — that protest that Luffy (along with half his crew) were arrested at last semester. Professor Emeritus in the law department, he was once famous for organizing protests around campus, and eagerly bailed them all out.

So, Law’s figured it out. As much as Luffy SEEMS like a carefree brainless soul, he’s been strategic from the very first step, surrounding himself with everyone he needs to stay on top. He’s incredibly devious, honestly, Law’s almost intimidated.

He also knows that this means he doesn’t have a place among them. 

As much as he’s always planned on being a surgeon, things just don’t work out sometimes. Like when your adopted uncle frames your adopted father for tax fraud and make it look like HE’S a millionaire—

Meaning you suddenly end up with a dad in jail AND getting rejected for FAFSA. No money, no loans, one single scholarship that Law’s about to be dropped from. Sorry Luffy, you’re going to have to find a surgeon somewhere else. Chopper will be good enough, surely.

He tries to separate himself from Luffy, but that’s easier said than done, as Luffy sticks to him like glue when they’re in the same place. The man’s incorrigible, impossible, guileless, brazen… 

Law ends up yelling at him in the middle of a party thrown at Jinbei’s house.

Shouts that he’s dropping out, failing, not going to live up to whatever role Luffy’s recruited him to fill. Tells him to find another surgeon, they’re a dime a dozen on med campus anyway. Storms out before he does something dumb like tear up.

Oddly enough it’s Usopp who follows him. 

He sits down next to Law, looking stiff and uncomfortable, and declares that he “knows what Law’s going through”, which feels, well, patently untrue. 

“I did this like a year ago,” Usopp says. “Tried to tell him to drop me.”

They’re sitting on the curb. Law scrunches grass between his fingers and stares at the road. 

“I had a car,” Usopp says. “She was BEAUTIFUL. Best car you’ve ever seen. Two hundred miles to the gallon and ran on French fry grease.” 

Ah, this is one of those stories.

Usopp deflates. “Then she died,” he says. “We’d just met Franky and he told me she was beyond repair. Then he offered up that bus he has, replacing her before she was even in the ground yet! And like, I’m not going to say he was replacing ME, but like—“

Law nods. 

“It’s not like I had a lot going for me anyway,” Usopp says. “Not compared to Nami or Sanji or Chopper. I thought I was just lucky Luffy found me early, when his standards were lower.” He laughs, but there’s no joy behind it.

“Anyway,” he picks at the laces of his shoes. “That car’s at the bottom of a lake now, may she rest in peace. And after I tried to pull what you just pulled, Luffy really fucking let me have it.” He ducks his head. “Told me I was being fucking stupid, and he was right.”

He glances up at the sky and Law watches, a queasy feeling in the base of his stomach. 

“Turns out,” Usopp says after a long pause, “Luffy really does just choose people he likes.” He sighs. “You’re just lucky, actually, because I don’t think he’s liked anyone as much as you.”

Law grimaces. He doesn’t FEEL lucky. 

Usopp, taking his queue, stands up. “The sooner you admit what you’re dealing with, though, the more he’s able to help.” 

Then he leaves Law alone. 

And Law… finds he doesn’t want to BE alone.

He slinks back into the party maybe twenty minutes later. It’s chill. Brook is taking song requests. Sanji is handing out grilled halloumi. 

Luffy immediately walks up to him. “Why didn’t you TELL ME,” he asks, indignant. 

“What, that my life is a mess?”

“Everyone’s life is a mess, silly,” Luffy says. “But we can HELP, duh.” 

“I think even YOU can’t keep me from getting kicked out of GLU,” Law says. 

“No,” Luffy agrees. “But HE can.” 

He points to Jinbei, sitting at an old yellowed desktop computer in the corner.

“I have friends in the law department who haven’t retired yet,” Jinbei says. He has small spectacles perched on his nose. “They know people. Sending a few emails now.” 

Chopper walks up to the two of them, looking shy. “I can help you study,” he says. “N-not that you need it!”

Nico Robin comes over, cocktails in each hand, pushing one of them into his. “Student services is accommodating,” she says. “If you know who to ask.” 

“YOW!” Shouts Franky from the couch. “And I just hacked their system and changed your grades!” 

Law chokes on his drink.

“SEE?” Luffy huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s FINE. You freaked out for nothing!” 

Law squints at him. “And if it’s not fine, Luffy-ya? If none of this helps and I still fail out of school?” 

Luffy purses his lips. “Duh, then you can just come live with me.“

He looks incredibly petulant. “It’s not like I like you BECAUSE you’re a surgeon. I like you because I asked for two of every shot and you said I’d have to choose a fake name instead of telling me no!” 

Ah. He did do that, didn’t he.

“And anyway, *i* don’t have a degree and I’m fine!” 

“You’re GETTING one,” Law points out. 

Luffy looks at him like he’s lost it. “I attend classes because they’re fun,” he says. “I don’t even have a high school degree, I don’t care about that stuff.” 

…huh.

“Now come on,” Luffy says, wrapping small boney fingers around Law’s wrist. Zoro’s going to play snooker with me and I need you to watch to make sure he doesn’t cheat, because I don’t know the rules.” 

And Law follows him. 

And follows him. 

And follows him.

And when he starts his next semester with his dad out of jail because Jinbei’s connections are honestly a little scary, and when he doesn’t sleep for three days in a row during finals week, and when he gets into the exact fellowship he wants, working under Marco himself—

Law follows Luffy. 

Because nothing else makes sense. 

Law hasn’t figured Luffy out at all But he’s figured everyone else out. Understands the magnetism they’re all drawn to. 

And when he falls into bed with Luffy at the end of long days and weeks, He knows he’s the lucky one.

[zomb1es]

POV:Stiles’s little crush on you has grown a little to much,

Warnings: stalkerstiles x quiet!reader, breaking & entering, stalking, etc.

I thought this sing went with this ;) :

You always wondered what that feeling was. That odd feeling you got when you were around him. It was hard to explain. Like a mouse being oddly comfortable around a scary black bear, and you knew it was weird. How the air turned cold when you and Lydia walked pasted him, or even spoke to him. It just all seemed odd…

And of course you were too scared to say something. Afraid that if he knew he would get his werewolf friend to harm, even kill you, so you kept quiet. Even if his cold-gray skin scared you, or the way he’d watch you struggle during tests and possibly fail his own or even when you had to work in groups during biology. It was just freaky.

Since your family was out on vacation it was just you and your little brother Cameron. You’d always take him to school, do your best as an older sister, try to be the best role model for him. So of course you freaked out when he found out about the werewolf stuff. But there he was, calming you down, weirdly knowing how to keep you quiet and not upset anyone. And oddly enough even though he scared you, when he got like this, caring and sweet, it made you weak.

“Y/n” you heard faintly. You weren’t even paying attention. You were to caught in your day dreams, how this boy was oddly making you fall for him. “Y/n.” you heard again. This time a little louder. “Y/n!” You jump in your seat as you looked up at coach finstock. “..sorry” you whispered as you looked down in your seat. “What was the question?” “Well now it’s what is more important then my class? I was yelling your name for about 15 minutes!” He said as he crossed his arms. You stayed silent, feeling your ears change to a hint of red as you heard the laughter of your classmates.

The bell rings and you almost fly out of the class room. You hated days like that. It do embarrassing and so annoying. You ran through the hall ways, turning your head to apologize for bunching into people for you hit something soft and muscular. You turn, the word ‘sorry’ immediately ready to vomit out of your mouth, before you could even see who it was. But the moment you looked up and saw those brown eyes and that cold-grayish skin, you felt the fear boil in your stomach.

“Woah” he said as he looked down at you. “Sorry Stiles.” You whispered, looking anywhere but him. “You ok? You looked like you’ve seen a ghost.” You shake when you felt his hand brush your arm. All you could do is nod avoiding eye contact. He examined your face before letting go of you and stepping back. “Hey guys.” Said Scott as he walked up to you guys. “Y/N you left your books and stuff.” He said handing them to you. You looked up at him then looked at stiles. You grabbed your books and immediately left.

You knew if you told anyone they’d never believe you. How you’d saw him in your house in the middle of the night, or have caught him following you home. You’d knew everyone would have thought you were crazy, that the Sheriff’s son could never do something like that. And he knew it to. That’s why he did it. Why he loved it.

Because it was so easy to just sneak into your house and watch you sleep or do daily tasks. He absolutely loved it. And you did too. You liked the way he’d make you foods, or wash your clothes, or even take the dog out. You especially liked how he made it obvious he was there. So you wouldn’t be scared and think it was a random person or robber.

At first you were terrified when you first saw him in his all black outfit hiding in the corner of your room. At first you thought you were dreaming, but when you woke up in the morning to see a teddy bear and your favorite candy you knew. You definitely knew.

And it was weird, liking having a stalker, but it kept you company. He kept you company. Even if he didn’t talk. “I’m going to spend the night at Carlos’s house.” Said Cameron. “Ok be safe.” You said as you hugged him and watched him leave. Some time had passed. You never knew when or if he was coming over but you knew he was there when the air shifted.

“..I’m making ice cream if you’d like some.” You said loud enough for him to hear. He stayed silent. “It’s vanilla, I know how much you like it.” Still nothing. You could feel the shift in the air. You gasped you when felt the cold ness of his hands rest right on you hips, and him lean down and rest his head on your shoulder. The only thing that filled the air was silence. He slowly moved to leave soft wet kisses on her neck.

“..stiles.” You whispered as you feel his hands softly grip your hips. The kisses trailed down your neck to your shoulder as he left soft bites. Soon the ice cream was way forgotten and the sound of the tv in the background became white noise. You placed both your hands on the counter to keep yourself stable. “Stiles” you whispered again as the kisses and bites became harder. He stepped back before turning you around, looking down at you.

He watched your facial expressions, his brown eyes watching the way your face faded into a light red, how your ears burned, and how the bites in your shoulder where very noticeable. He slowly leaned down, doing light pecks before slowly making them longer. You moved your arms around his neck as he moved his hands down to your bottom, softly squeezing at it.

The kisses got rougher and rougher as he lifted you up onto the counter. Your lips moving in unison as they became a ruby color. Stiles pulls you closer as he moves his kisses to your neck. He begins to move lower and lower. You placed your hand in his hair, massaging his scalp. He moved your tank top strap down as his kisses moved lower. Everything around you had disappeared. All that being left were just you two and the heavy breathing, long and wet kisses, grabbing, and-

He quickly rips away from you as soon as the front door opens, leaving you on the counter with your hair messy, kisses and bites on your neck, eyes heavy-lidded, and mouth a bruised color. You quickly regain your sense when you realize your brother was back. You pull your tank top strap up and wipe your mouth. “Thought you were spending the night at Carlos’s house?” You said as you looked at your brother.

“Decided to come home and spend time with you.” He said as he put his stuff on the couch. He looked up at you before examining your face. “Why are your lips red?” Your face immediately turned to a shocked expression. “..umm..I ate some ice cream..guess I had an allergic reaction or something?” You both stand there “..hm, ok sure.”

Cameron goes upstairs leaving you downstairs by yourself. You quickly run around the corner to see where stiles went. “Stiles?” You whisper-shouted only for the only thing you see is the side door wide open..

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part five

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst, 18+, implied smut.

word count: 4k

a/n: it's me, the angst goblin. back to collect more tears.

You spend the rest of the week with your head down. 

Avoiding Jenna is easy - she’s avoiding you too. Ducking out when you enter a room. Headphones on, the world muted. 

The only person she’s interested in talking to is Emma. Who does nothing but freeze her out. 

You feel bad for her, you do. You’d change it if you could. But you have problems of your own. Namely - yours and Emma’s new arrangement. 

Friends with benefits would be an apt name if Emma considered you a friend. But she doesn’t. Not anymore.

You’re a booty call. A warm body. Revenge. 

It doesn’t feel good. 

“Do you want to maybe stay?” You ask, chewing your lip as Emma pulls her clothes back on. 

It’s late, near twelve, Emma’s visit unplanned. 

She’d knocked on your door and had you pressed into the mattress not thirty minutes ago. And now she’s already halfway out the door. 

“I have to shoot tomorrow,” Is all she says. You sit up, try to tug at her hand, but she’s too far out of reach. You pout, slightly.  

“My place is closer,” You reason. 

She pauses. Surveys you. 

“My moisturizer is at home.” 

“I have moisturizer.” You offer, helpfully. 

But it isn’t about that. Even you, naive idiot to a fault, can tell that. 

She smiles at you in a way that doesn’t really feel like a smile. It feels like a slap in the face. Then, she’s pulling on her shoes. 

“Bye, YN.” 

This continues for much of the week.

You’re not really sure what you expected when you agreed to this thing you have going with Emma, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

She’s holding back, taking what she wants from you but with none of the intimacy. You don’t speak much on set, you don’t speak much at all. She’s busy laughing with Hunter and Joy and Johnna and you’re an afterthought. 

The last person she calls when she wants to talk. The first person she calls when she wants to fuck. 

And it is fucking. Quick, rough, not even a kiss goodbye. 

And you can’t be mad because it’s what you had agreed on. 

“You and Emma seem to be getting on better.” Georgie says one day at lunch. It’s just you and him - Emma’s commandeered Joy and Hunter, Jenna sits by herself nowadays. Oddly enough, of all people, Georgie’s sort of become your confidant.   

At this you snort, mouth full of soup. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Or not?” 

“We’re friends with benefits.” You say, “Without the friend part.” 

Georgie shrugs. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” 

You bite your lip. Look over to where Jenna’s sitting. She looks miserable, earphones in, staring at the back of Emma’s head like if she stares hard enough Emma will come over and talk to her. 

“How’s Jenna?” 

Georgie looks away. 

“She’s… Jenna. Wants to be alone. Lost in her work or whatever.” 

You hum. Take another sip of your soup. 

Georgie leans in. 

“I thought Emma would have forgiven her by now. I mean- she won, right? She got the girl.”

He’s looking at you like he wants you to confirm it. You swallow. 

“I don’t think anyone’s the winner here.” 

Georgie looks at you piercingly. 

“Could you maybe… talk to her? Emma? It just seems so silly to fight over this. They were really good friends-”

You sigh. Drop your spoon to the bowl. Whatever you said, Emma would do the opposite. She’s punishing you too in her own weird way. But Georgie’s looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, and you can’t deny a favor to the only friend you have left. 

“I’ll try.” You say, half-heartedly. 

-

You bring it up a little later. 

Emma approaches you when shooting wraps, slings an arm over your shoulder. She kisses you and tells you to come back to her place. 

It would surprise you, except you know the show is not for you. 

Jenna’s only three feet away. Emma’s kiss is hard. She’s marking you. Like a dog pissing on it’s territory. 

You glance away and try to pretend like you don’t see the look on Jenna’s face. 

“I was thinking…” You say as you trail behind Emma into her apartment, “That maybe it’s time you made up with Jenna.” 

The entire car ride home you pondered how to bring it up. You considered trying to weave it in naturally, or even hinting. Maybe making up some bullshit story about one of your long-lost friends who you wished you’d just tried with. But Emma is no-nonsense these days. She’d see through it. 

So you take the bulldozer approach. 

Emma’s not a mean person, this you know. Surely she’s seen the way Jenna’s been acting - withdrawn, quiet, heartbroken. You watch as Emma stops and turns slightly to look at you. The look on her face is unreadable - she’s either about to break down in tears or scream at you to get out of her apartment. 

You swallow and hurry through your words, hoping you can appeal to her humanity. 

“It’s just - she’s really upset, have you noticed? Not about me. About you. She cares about you and she’s really sorry-”

Emma raises a hand, cutting you off. 

“Don’t talk to me about Jenna,” She says, voice flat, “Don’t you dare talk to me about Jenna.” 

You blink, shoulders falling limp. 

“I just-”

“I hope she’s upset,” Emma says, eyes ablaze, “She betrayed me in the worst way, do you even understand that?” 

Silence fills the room. You contemplate dropping it. You’re on thin ice as it is. But Jenna had seemed so sad today, and you can’t help but want to fix it. 

“It was my fault. Not hers. I kissed her-” 

A lie she sees through immediately. Emma tilts her head. 

“So go kiss her again. Go fuck her for all I care. Bring her up again and we’re done. Okay?” 

She throws her bag down, a little violently. Runs a hand through her blonde hair. 

“Alright.” You say, a little resigned, “I’m sorry.” 

You hadn’t expected it to work, but it feels like a loss all the same. You’ve aggravated her now, you can tell by the way she kicks off her shoes, glancing up at you like she’s not sure why she invited you. 

“Let’s make this quick.” Emma says, taking off her jacket, “I have a date tonight.” 

At this you stare. Blink back at her, wonder if you’ve misheard her. 

“A date?” You ask. You can’t keep the jealousy from seeping in your tone, “With who?”

“Johnna.” Emma shrugs, “She asked me after work.”

It stings a little. When Emma had told you no strings you hadn’t expected her to to and find a new yarn of wool to tug at. 

“But I thought we had plans.” You say, a little put out. 

She shoots you a look. 

“We’re going to fuck, that’s not having plans.” 

“So you’re going to fuck me and then go out on a date with another girl?” You say, voice a little high, “Does she know you’re sleeping with someone else before your date?” 

Emma rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t act the part of the jealous girlfriend,” She says, “You already blew that, remember?” 

Your stomach flips, and not in a good way. It’s overtaking you, confusion, jealousy, hurt. You’re starting to feel like a two-dollar hooker off a roadside. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little inconsiderate?” You say, “I don’t think Johnna would appreciate you fucking me and then sharing a bowl of Pad Thai with her-” 

“Johnna knows the situation,” Emma says, flatly, “I thought you did too. I’m not your girlfriend, I’ll go on as many dates as I want.” 

Tension fills the room. You don’t recognise her. How could this be Emma? The sweet girl with the pretty blue eyes who had blushed when you touched her hand for the first time. And now she was up for fucking two different girls in one night? 

What had you done to her? 

“Fine.” You say, swallowing. Your ears are ringing, unpleasantly,  “Have fun on your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You grab your things, try to quell the tide of emotions that flush through you. 

Emma stares. Disbelief in her eyes. 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you getting yourself pretty for Johnna.” You snap. Immediately you regret it. You’ve shown your hand. You’re jealous, even though you have no right to be. She doesn’t placate you. 

“Fine,” She says, voice clipped, “See you tomorrow.” 

-

They’re laughing when you get on set in the morning. 

Emma and Johnna. 

Hands touching near the make-up chairs. You watch, eyes narrowed from the craft services table. Dump far too much Mac and Cheese onto your plate. 

You barely notice as Jenna slips in beside you. 

“What’s going on there?” Jenna asks, voice casual, “I thought you two were a thing?” 

You’re not expecting her. You blink over at her, a little confused. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to each other.” You say. 

“We’re not supposed to kiss each other,” Jenna says as she pries some food onto her plate, “Talking isn’t cheating.” 

“It’s the talking that usually leads to the cheating,” You say, “Besides, Emma and I aren’t exclusive, she can talk to anyone she wants.” 

Jenna looks up at you, slight frown on her face. 

“So she is seeing Johnna?” 

You avert your gaze. This is the last person you want to have this conversation with. But Jenna doesn’t relent. 

“I’m confused.”

“You and me both,” You mutter. You reach for a rogue grape, wrestle it onto your plate, “Look, Jenna - I know we’re just talking, but if you want Emma to forgive you, maybe we shouldn’t. Like at all. I tried to bring you up yesterday and she flipped-”

“You brought me up?” Jenna asks, voice soft, “What did she say?”

“She’s pissed.” You don’t try to sugarcoat it. “At you. And at me, but mostly you.” 

Jenna’s looking at you, a little mournful. Like a wounded puppy. 

“What can I do?” She asks. Her shoulders are dropped, like she’s resigned to her fate. 

You don’t know the answer. 

You tell her so. 

Her eyes are downcast. Her lip twitches. And then she’s looking up at you, something different in her eyes. 

“Are you sleeping with her?” She asks, voice filled with curiosity. A touch of jealousy. She asks like she doesn’t want to know the answer. So you avoid the question.  

“Let’s not speak anymore.” You say, chewing your lip. You glance over at Emma. She’s smiling, laughing at something Johnna’s said. She hasn’t seen yours and Jenna’s clandestine chat, “It’s too hard.” 

It’s weighted and Jenna seems to understand the implication. It feels wrong talking to Jenna with Emma just a few feet away. But it’s also hard to speak to her and not want to push her up against the craft services table. Kiss her until you’re both out of breath. If not speaking to Jenna helped rid yourself of those thoughts you were willing to do it. For both of your sakes. 

“Okay.” Jenna says. She finishes filling her plate, hovers awkwardly, “Let’s not speak.” 

And you don’t. 

Another week passes. 

You and Georgie hang out at lunch. He distracts you with tales of his teenage years, tells you about the slew of girls he’s trying and failing to date. 

It makes you feel a little better. Like you’re not the only one stuck at a romantic crossroad. 

You and Jenna don’t speak, as you discussed. Emma and Johnna get closer. 

And you hate every second of it. 

You lay back naked in your bed one night, bedsheets pulled to your neck. Emma’s made you cum, twice, but you’re hardly satisfied. Your stomach churning and your mind running a mile a minute. She’s pulling on her jeans, and all you want is for her to stay. 

“Are you going to see Johnna?” You ask, a little hesitant. 

Emma looks over at you and pauses. 

“I’m going home.” She says, simply. She tugs on her shoes. 

You bite your lip. 

“You could stay?” You offer, “We could order food and watch bad 80s movies.” 

“YN-“ 

“Please,” You urge, “I miss you.” 

“We just spent the last hour together.” She says, voice neutral. 

You shake your head. She doesn’t understand, you miss her. The Emma who sends you stupid memes, the Emma who giggles when you tell a joke, even if it’s not funny. The Emma who had kissed you that night by the pool, who had been honest enough to tell you she’d been thinking about it for a while. 

Not this Emma. This cold, aloof, doppelganger. You don’t want her. You don’t even like her. 

“You weren’t here, even if you were.” You say, “You don’t talk to me at work, we definitely don’t talk outside of work. You won’t even kiss me while we’re…. while we’re fucking.” You swallow, trail off. “I’m starting to feel like a prostitute or something.” 

Emma crosses her arms. 

“If the shoe fits.” 

You blink back at her. It hurts, and the look in her eyes tells you she meant it to hurt. You swallow the lump in your throat, not wanting to cry in front of her. 

“When did you get so mean?” You ask, voice wavering, “When I first met you, you were this, sweet, happy girl, and now-“ 

“You fucked around with my best friend behind my back. That’s when.” Emma says, her voice flat. 

You swallow. Hold the sheets tighter to your chest. 

If this is the only way you get Emma, you don’t want her. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” You say, thinking hard, “You can hate me forever, maybe I deserve it. But I don’t thinking hate-fucking me is helping either of us. I feel like shit every time you leave. And you - you just close up. It’s like you’re a different person.”

“What are you saying?” Emma says, voice low, “You want me to kiss you and be romantic with you, and let you touch me, why? So you can close your eyes and pretend I’m Jenna?” 

You stare for a moment. Your heartbeat a dull thud. Something coils in your chest, twisting your heart in pieces. 

“You should go.” You say, voice hollow. 

It must show on your face - the kind of emotion that’s toiling deep in your chest. She stares a moment, something flickering behind her eyes. 

“Beetlejuice.” She says, suddenly. She’s blinking, hands falling limp at her side, suddenly her mask is gone. 

“What?”

“We should watch Beetlejuice. And order Chinese.” 

You blink back at her, not understanding. She slips off her coat and unties her shoes. Slips under the covers with you, her arm grazing yours. 

“You’re right,” She says, suddenly. Her eyes hesitant,  “I’m being- I have been being mean. I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands, suddenly shy. 

“This has never happened to me before,” She admits. Her gaze is piercing, “You really hurt me and I just wanted to hurt you back. Both of you.” 

You don’t dare say a thing. It seems almost too good to be true. You don’t want to open your mouth and change her mind. 

She leans in, rests her head on your shoulder. 

“Forgive me?” She’s asking, voice small. 

“Yeah.” You say. You reach out, entwine your fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away, “Least I can do.” 

-

Nothing changes, except everything. 

It isn’t like you can flick a switch and make Emma forgive you for everything. That, you’ve surely ruined. But she stays the entire night, lets you kiss her goodnight. Even lets you make her breakfast in the morning. 

She stops ignoring you at work, stops fucking you like she hates you. 

She even suggests going to parties together, making out on the balcony when you’re both too drunk to see straight. 

But she still disappears every now and then, sometimes for hours on end with Johnna. 

And she still won’t talk to Jenna. 

You watch it happen once more, on Friday game night. 

Hunter’s defrosted to you, a little, invites you personally. And then he rounds on Jenna. 

“Come to game night,” He insists, grabbing her hands, trying to tug her earphones out of her ears, “Please. I know you’re doing your goth-girl-introvert-method-Wednesday thing but we all miss you.” 

You look down at your phone, pretending not to listen. 

Jenna doesn’t look sure. 

“I don’t know, Hunter-” She says, voice gravelly, “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t want to make Emma uncomfortable.” 

“Emma said you can come,” Hunter says, eyes sparkling, “I think she’s over it, Jenna. I mean - I doubt she wants to make friendship bracelets with you anytime soon, but she can stand to be in the same room with you. That’s progress, right?” 

At this, you snap your head up. Look over to where Emma’s sitting. She’s laughing with Johnna. Jealousy coils hot through you. It’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. 

“Did she really say that?” Jenna says, chewing her lip. She can’t hide the dash of hope in her voice. 

Hunter nods, smile wide. 

And so here you all are. 

You arrive with Georgie, pour you and him a healthy helping of Rum and Coke. You have a feeling you’ll need it. 

“Cheers,” He says, knocking your glasses together. 

You bite your lip, surveying the room. 

Emma’s already here, in deep conversation with Joy. Johnna and Hunter are setting up the game table. Jenna’s already in the kitchen, pouring out her drink. She looks small by herself, a little sad. Your heart twists, painfully.  

“Do you want to see if she’s okay?” You ask, nudging Georgie, “You mind being her guy, tonight? I know Emma said she could come but-” 

You trail off, not wanting to say it aloud. Emma’s mean-spirit had dwindled, a lot, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t there. 

Georgie looks over, sets his glass down on the table. 

“You’ll be okay?” He asks, genuine concern on his face. 

You nod. 

“I have Emma.” You say, smile tight. 

“Okay.” He says, squeezing your arm, “I’ll look after her. Promise.” 

You wait until Emma’s done with her conversation, then sidle up to her, smile on your face. 

“Hey,” You say, settling down at her side, “You look pretty, tonight.” 

She smiles, presses a kiss to your cheek, “So do you.” 

Johnna’s watching, you can feel her eyes on you. Emma takes your hand and your heart leaps. The smallest of victories. 

And then Hunter’s ushering you all to the table, ready for the first round of Cards of Humanity. At first, it’s fine. You’re careful to lead Emma to the opposite side of the table, well away from Georgie and Jenna. To your chagrin, Johnna manages to slip into the seat next to Emma. 

You play, each round stupider than the next as the group gets progressively drunker. Emma’s laughing. Jenna cracks a smile. 

And then Hunter’s wrapping up the game, insisting on a fifteen minute break while he sets up the next one. And the night goes to shit. 

It happens when you’re in the bathroom. Emma leaves her Gin unattended, too caught up in laughing with Johnna and Hunter too care. When you get back, she’s looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed. 

“You okay?” You ask, rubbing her back. Her lips purse. 

“Where’s my drink?” Emma says, a little confused. 

You glance around the room. 

“I don’t know.” 

Joy springs up like a baby-bunny. Clearly a couple of drinks deep. 

“The Gin and Tonic? Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours. I gave it to Jenna.” 

Emma falls silent. Annoyance flashes through her features. 

“It’s fine, Joy” Emma says, voice stony, “She likes taking things that don’t belong to her. Isn’t that right, Jenna? 

She says it maybe louder than she first intended. The entire room goes quiet. Jenna turns at her name, a flash of hurt flushing through her features. You look down at the table, ashen-faced. 

Emma blinks. Her own words, surprising her. 

“I’ll get you another one,” Johnna says, smoothing it over, quickly, “Hunter - how long until the next game?” 

But it’s too late. 

Emma settles into her seat, cheeks flushed red - maybe a little out of annoyance, maybe out of embarrassment. Johnna does a good job at distracting her. It gives you the chance you need to raise your eyebrows at Georgie.

Jenna’s abandoned her drink. She’s reaching for her coat, a hasty look on her face. You watch as Georgie takes her aside, tries to reason with her. And then you’re swallowing hard as he’s shrugging at you, watching as she walks out the door. 

And you can’t help yourself. 

You don’t have to murmur an excuse - Emma’s eyes aren’t on you. You drop your drink to the table, shuffle past Georgie and follow Jenna out to the door. 

“Jenna!” You call out, rushing to catch up to her, “Wait!” 

When she turns, her eyes are a little misty. She isn’t crying, not yet, but the look on her face says she might soon be. 

“She didn’t mean it.” You say, breathlessly, “She’s had a lot to drink and she’s still angry, but you shouldn’t take it personally-”

“How am I not supposed to take that personally?” Jenna snaps. You recoil, slightly. Her face is red. You’ve never seen her angry before. It takes you aback. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” She says, voice hot, “I knew she wasn’t over it, what the hell does Hunter know?” 

“She needs time,” You say, “She needs space. But she’s a good person. She’ll forgive you eventually, I know she will.” 

“Yeah,” Jenna says. There’s something in her eyes. Jealousy, maybe? Disgust, definitely, “You seem to be giving her a lot of space.” 

You blink back at her. 

She swallows. Her chest heaves, and she closes her eyes. 

“Sorry. I’m not trying to- sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You say, voice hollow, “You don’t have to apologize to me.” 

She takes a deep breath. Her movements are jerky, shaky. Maybe from the Gin she’d been gulping back earlier. You resist the urge to reach out and steady her. Touching is a no-no. You might not be Emma’s girlfriend, but that you know is against the rules of your arrangement. 

“I need her to forgive me.” Jenna says, voice wavering. Desperate, “YN-” 

“She will,” You insist, “I promise she will.” 

“How?” Jenna says, agonizingly, “I wouldn’t forgive me. I’m such a bad friend.” 

“You made a mistake, we both made a mistake,” You say, “But you’re sorry, and she’ll see that eventually. Just give her time.” 

Jenna’s eyes flicker. She looks up at you, eyes wide, vulnerable. Hazy with hurt, and booze and a little of something else. 

“If I had told you that night how I really felt - that night by the pool. Would you have picked me?” Her voice is low, quiet. 

You blink back at her, not expecting it. 

“I- I don’t-” 

“Would you have picked me?” Jenna insists, brow furrowed. She leans forward, a little. Her scent washes over you. Coconut. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Jenna. 

It goes straight to your brain. Short-circuits you in a way you only feel when she’s close. Her lips are red, chapped, only slightly. You can’t help but stare at them. 

You remember the night. Feeling weightless by the pool. Resisting Emma’s attempts to pry you into the water because Jenna wasn’t. You remember the feeling of her skin against yours. Remember the wash of jealousy that had flooded through you when you thought it was Georgie she liked. 

If you say it out loud it’s real. If you say it out loud you can’t run from it anymore. Your heart is in your throat. All you can hear is the dull sound of the music inside the apartment and your own wild heartbeat. 

“Yes.” You whisper. You don't want to hide from it anymore, “I would have picked you.” 

Jenna hums. Closes her eyes slightly, body swaying gently from the effect of the alcohol. 

Your ears ring, slightly. Devastation floods through you. 

If only she’d told you. 

If only it were different. 

Jenna opens her eyes. Offers you a sad smile. 

“We would have been so in love.” Is all she says. 

“Yeah,” You echo, voice hollow, “We would have been.”

Nothing but the sound of the night. The quiet chirp of crickets. Yours and her heartbeats, both thrumming wildly, perfectly in sync.

And then she smiles at you, once more. And leaves you standing there alone.

next part

[daegall]

Lee Jeno's top 10 ways to stay warm.

pairing: (implied) bad boy!jeno x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers!AU, college!AU, winter!AU, slight bad boy!AU

warnings: mentions of anxiety

word count: 1.4k words

a/n: hi its jeno hours

also lowkey wanna make this a whole fic idk...

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy @justalildumpling <3

It's cold. Really fucking cold. And it's night. Scary. A snowy, cold, scary night, and you have a bus to catch. So, instead of staying outside, where it's cold, and dangerous, you decide to step into the bus stop smoking pod, knowing it's a lot warmer in there.

And now, here you are, reading a novel you can barely focus on, due to the cold, and your slight anxiety of being alone.

A moment later, however, your anxiety spikes its all time high as the door to the smoking pod swings open, causing you to look up with wide, worried eyes, only to soften when you recognize the platinum white hair and leather jacket.

It's Lee Jeno.

He's got his usual cold, bad boy exterior stoic face, and almost permanent scowl on his lips, as he curses and shakes his head like a wet dog, shaking the snow off his hair.

He doesn't seem to realize he's got company, not until you let out the sigh you sucked in abruptly from his sudden entrance.

"O-oh," Jeno stumbles over his words, recognizing you from campus. "hey,"

"Hi," You reply back quietly, lips pursing into a line awkwardly.

He takes a few steps towards you, his sneakers tapping against the ground oddly loudly. Jeno halts after no more than 3 steps, pointing at the seat next to you. "Do you mind...?"

"Oh," You shake your head, hands waving as well. "no, please, sit."

It's a cold night, sitting seems like a more comfortable position, better than having your joints freeze while you're standing at least.

As Jeno takes a seat next to you, you can't help but feel incredibly awkward, glancing down at your novel, once again barely paying attention, but for a different reason now.

You know Lee Jeno. You're not too sure if he remembers you.

Last week, Zhong Chenle's party, you kissed. Twice. Once, at a game of spin the bottle, a small, innocent peck, and another time under the mistletoe. Not that innocent.

You can barely remember it, but Donghyuck made sure he recorded both, and showed you both. You had dreaded seeing Jeno after that party, afraid he would find you... weird, or anything of that sort.

Look at you now, stuck alone with him on a very cold night.

Emphasize on the very. Because it's very, very cold tonight.

You try to hide the slight shiver in your movement, opting to shift in your seat to try create some sort of friction, for some nonexistent heat.

Had you expected Jeno to notice? Maybe.

Had you expected him to take his leather jacket off, and offer it to you? No. Not at all.

"S-sorry?" You blink at the jacket being placed on your lap, too shy to look Jeno in the eye.

You don't have to worry about that, because Jeno's just as embarrassed, looking to his side. "Y-you're shivering, right? It's okay, just take it."

"No, Jeno, I really can't."

"I insist, Y/N."

"You only have a t-shirt on, Jeno,"

"It's okay, you look freezing, Y/N,"

"Jeno, I ca—"

"—hey,"

His hand suddenly envelops yours. It's... very surprisingly warm, as his thumb strokes across your skin comfortingly. "I swear, I'll be fine, okay?"

Jeno's got a small, stupidly attractive smile on his lips, head tilting to the side. He's got some snow in his hair, but it blends in almost perfectly due to how white he dyed his hair. He's... ethereal.

"Fine," You give in, sighing.

Jeno goes as far as helping you slip his jacket on, fixing it on your body, stroking the sleeves across your arms, making sure your neck is all covered. He smiles at the way you simply look up at him, lips agape to say something, anything, but you don't know what.

Lee Jeno knows who you are. He remembers you from Zhong Chenle's party—well, long before that. He remembers you from the day you bumped into him in the hallways, apologizing profusely at something so small. You picked his books up for him, and as cheesy as it sounds, his heart raced and he fell the moment your hand brushed slightly against his.

And when you kissed him in spin the bottle? God, he felt like he could cry. Partially because he was drunk. And when he caught you under the mistletoe with him, pushing Kim Sunwoo out of the way so you could be with him, and when your hands tugged him closer by his hoodie strings to kiss him deeper, he swore he was gonna bawl.

And here he is, how blessed is he to be next to you, alone, just the two of you, with you wearing his jacket, looking all adorable in it?

Lee Jeno thinks the Gods have blessed him, and he will thank whatever is out there in the universe for this opportunity.

He's about to express his gratitude right now, as your hand taps his, your cold skin against his.

When Jeno turns, he's immensely surprised when you have your scarf and beanie in your hands, reaching them out to him.

He doesn't respond, simply freezing and staring at the items with wide, almost puppy-like eyes.

Chuckling, you decide to put them on him yourself, placing the scarf down to start with the beanie. You reach up to slip it over his head, making sure to cover his ears nice and snugly. Your fingers unintentionally skim over the skin of his cheek, but neither of you comment on it, neither of you mind it, really.

"Warm?" You question quietly, grinning when he nods. A small curl appears on the corners of his lips, as he starts to grin as well.

Next, you take the scarf from your lap, raising it to wrap it around his neck. Jeno instinctively leans down to help make the task easier, feeling not only his neck warm when the scarf is wrapped, but his cheeks and heart as well.

Lee Jeno is blushing, you could blame it on how cold it was, but god knows the truth.

"There, all better."

Jeno basks in the warmth of the items you had placed on him, smiling fondly. "Thank you."

"No need, when you gave me your jacket. Thank you for that."

You're incredibly adorable. Wrapped up in his leather jacket, hands rubbing together, a shy smile on your lips.

Lee Jeno wants to kiss you. Again. For real, fully sober with nobody around to record and shove in people's faces the next day, nobody to whistle out and hoot at the interaction, no disruptions at all.

Jeno finds his hands suddenly unwrapping your soft, warm scarf from his neck, holding each end tightly, before he loops it behind your head.

What's he doing? You both have no idea.

A moment later, however, you are fully aware of his lips inching towards yours. His breath hits your lips, as he tugs your neck closer by the scarf, and suddenly all you can see, is Jeno. The red tip of his nose, his hazy, but fully beaming eyes as he stares at your lips, and his lips brushing against yours. His breath is warm, so incredibly warm, the warmest thing you've felt tonight.

And suddenly, your eyes are shut, as you make a move and press your lips together.

Jeno's hands release the scarf, as one of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, the other slipping to hold your neck gently. His warm hands leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, your own hands holding dearly at his cheeks.

When you pull away, you share warm breaths, finding it comforting in the middle of the cold night.

"What was that for?" You mumble against his lips, laughing lightly.

Jeno shrugs, "It's one of my top 10 ways to warm up. It's cold. Figured I might try the top method."

"Kissing someone?"

"Kissing you,"

He bumps his nose against yours, as he chuckles along with you. "Seems like it worked,"

"If I'm not mistaken, Jeno," You tap at his cheek, stroking his skin. "I'd say that's just an excuse, and the real reason is because you like me,"

"What makes you assume that?"

"Maybe because it's my reason too?"

He grins at your words. "Okay then," Jeno's thumb streaks across your neck, warming it up, along with your heart, with every moment spent near him. "Yeah, I like you."

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 1)

Reader-insert & Whitebeard Pirates

Master Post for series.

Warning: (Platonic) yandere behavior, physical injury, blood, and kidnapping. If any of these make you uncomfortable (especially yandere content), you should not read this or any following parts.

Please block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" if you are uninterested in this story and "one piece yandere" if stories like this make you uncomfortable. For everyone else, please do remember that as sweet/touching as this behavior is or can be, it is deeply toxic and troubling in real life. Anyone that treats you with such disregard in terms of your boundaries or respecting your decisions should not be tolerated.

Please stay safe and have fun.

Word Count: 2,880

Devil fruits in the marines has always been handled a bit oddly. On paper, no low rank has a devil fruit. Because having a devil fruit tends to make even weak humans stronger, even if under highly specific circumstances. But you can’t just promote people because they ate something weird. They have to earn their position. This problem is handily solved by… ignoring the issue entirely.

Strong marines will, eventually, be promoted. So it stood to reason that strong marines with powerful abilities will be promoted even faster.

You were, however, of the opinion that there should be some sort of allowance made for marines that just can’t handle power without it going to their head.

Those people should scrub toilets until they learn at least a bare minimum amount of humility.

Why would you, of all people, have that opinion?

Because you got to watch, in real time, how quickly people given power without earning it lose their damn minds. It was, in fact, your own devil fruit’s power to ‘dial up’ other devil fruits. Just being near you had this effect. No, no one had any idea what your devil fruit was supposed to be called. Apparently, it was one of the few not in any encyclopedia on the subject, so you didn’t even know your own limits by proxy.

If you had the choice to go back in time you would never have eaten that weirdly flat yellow fruit. But you were stupid and hungry and here you were. Babysitting yet another ensign who simply could not handle having stronger powers with any grace.

Ensign Williams had a candle-candle fruit. Basically, a very weak version of the logia fruit flame-flame. His fire would always be weaker, smaller, and easier put out. Until you showed up, wherein he was capable of fairly impressive feats. In fact, it had been a full week and Williams went from being in awe of what he could now accomplish with you by his side to fully up his own ass with his ‘rightful power’. Unfortunately, he was your partner for the time being, so you just had to try and reign in his ass-ness before he burned the town to the ground by accident.

Mostly this involved walking away when he started being a prick to the local townsfolk to remind him that this ‘grand power’ he held was, in fact, only possible with your presence. Trying to physically stop him just got you a bloody nose. So, wounding his ego was the best you could do for everyone involved. Usually, you excused this by a sudden, burning need to pet a dog or cat or sufficiently friendly bird. They, at least, appreciated your presence and efforts.

“I’m going places, you know!” Williams declared in a huff, running up to you as you scratched a dog’s ears. Really ruffling the floppy appendages around as the dog panted and drooled in happiness. “The marines will see that I deserve a promotion soon enough with all the good work I’ve been doing!” You gave him a dry look.

“You depend on your devil fruit too much. What are you going to do when that’s not enough? I won’t always be around, you know.” You reminded him gently, feeding the mutt a milk bone from your pocket as you stood up. “This is the Grand Line. Eventually you’re going to run into a Yonko or something. What then? You think Red-Hair or Big Mom will care about a little fire?”

Williams paled at the suggestion, reality peaking in through his delusion before, with herculean effort, it was pushed back once again.

“And what about you, huh? Your devil fruit is useless for yourself! You’re a weak, useless thing on your own!” Williams sneered. You stared at him, unimpressed.

“That’s what training is for. Which is what I would be doing if I didn’t have to run around with you all the time.” You sighed. The big folks up top wanted to see just how much power you could give a weak devil fruit, likely in preparation to assign you to someone with a devil fruit user actually noteworthy. If there were side effects, they didn’t want an admiral to be the first to face it, after all. Personally, you were hoping for someone like Smoker. Reasonable, experienced, and well known for his skill outside his devil fruit.

Although, you were starting to think this delusional mindset was the side effect. Natural or induced, the people you gave boosts to often had a period of euphoria and increased aggression, narcissism, and short-sightedness. Hard to say since, so far, everyone you’ve been assigned to has been an asshole.

Possibly a marine-specific issue.

“Bring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-rin—clack!” You answered the bored snail in your pocket.

“Ensign—”

“Fire Fist Ace has been spotted in your area! You and Ensign Williams are to attempt apprehension. No other Whitebeard Pirates have been spotted but be advised there are likely more—possibly another commander. If you see them, flee on sight.” They hung up immediately before you could even respond. Sighing, you looked up at Williams.

He looked strangely pale before gathering himself, a smug smirk quickly taking over his features.

“Hah! See that? They already know I’m going to accomplish great things. This will be only the beginning of my legacy as a marine!” Williams grabbed you arm and started running down the street, looking around like a madman for ‘Fire Fist’, jostling your glasses hard. They nearly flew off when he spotted a column of fire across town and yanked you with him. “Watch as a real marine works, useless!”

Fire Fist was crouched in the middle of the street, pointing at a stand that had fallen over, his back to the both of you. Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger stark against his tan skin.

“—highway robbery prices, you’re out of your mind if you think I’d pay for something broken!” Fire Fist huffed. While it was true you couldn’t see another pirate with him, it was common knowledge that Whitebeard Pirates rarely travelled alone. Especially a commander.

“You sure you wanna do this—”

“Halt, filthy pirate! Your days of piracy are over!” Williams declared boldly. Briefly, you wondered if maybe your superiors had heard about Williams’ behavior and figured sending him after Fire Fist would be the best reprimand he could get.

Even with your help, Williams was a candle-light at the end of the day. And Fire Fist? Fire Fist was a raging wildfire. You could almost feel the heat of his devil fruit in the back of your head. A faint indication that told you just how strong the devil fruits around you are and helped inform you how much power you were giving just by being around them.

Fire Fist looked back at the two of you with a dry, grumpy expression. Curiosity flickering over his features as he took in how amped up Williams was—and how utterly done you were. Fire flickered over his shoulders as he grinned.

“And what is a couple of ensigns going to do about it?” Fire Fist crowed with a mischievous grin, tipping his gaudy, orange cowboy hat back. Williams’ fire flickered over his body, sparks flying harmlessly over you—a welcome side effect of your devil fruit boosting another thankfully—before charging forward.

Three things happened at once.

Williams charged forward to fight Fire Fist. Letting go of your wrist.

His fire flickered slightly from the loss of direct contact with you.

Fire Fist’s own fire flared up at the sudden, unavoidable boost in power.

Confusion washed over Fire Fist as he instinctively noticed the strange change before he dismissed it, charging towards Williams anyway.

You rolled your eyes, pretty sure Williams would get knocked out quickly and leave you with yet another mess to clean up.

A low wine reached your ears, drawing you gaze away from what was mostly an impressive lightshow as Williams kept throwing fire at a man made of fire.

A fat, white dog panted in the shade. Scraggly white fur otherwise clean despite laying in the dirt. A strange, immaculate crescent shaped moustache curved under his nose.

Obviously, between your partner facing a Yonko Commander and a sad dog, your choice of who deserved your attention was clear.

You kneeled down with a smile, pulling out a dog treat from your pocket.

“Hey, cutie, what are you doing? Trying to cool off a little?” You spoke softly, presenting the treat to the very interested dog. You pulled out a bottle from your other pocket and a bowl—specifically for this actually—as you poured some out for the dog. The dog rolled onto his paws and eagerly drank the water, accepting your gentle affection. “You’re definitely not a stray, but you don’t have a collar either. Where are you from, baby?”

Fire and explosions rocked the area behind you. Not that you cared since the civilians ran the minute Williams and Fire Fist lit up. You scratched the surprisingly soft fur and ran your hand down the dog’s back. They were definitely well cared for, whoever they belonged to. Once they were done drinking water they eagerly wriggled into your lap for affection, licking and nipping at your chin.

“Oof! My, what a cutie you are!” You cheered, playfully ruffling the dog’s ears and booping his wet nose as you avoided the eager kisses.

Williams definitely screamed behind you in panic.

“Help me, you useless—SHIT!”

Without looking you yelled back.

“I thought you were supposed to be a ‘real marine’?” You lowered your voice when the dog whined and kissed his nose as an apology. “Sorry, baby. He’s just been an ass all week and I think he could really learn something today. What could a ‘useless marine’ do anyway, hm? I told him he needs to watch it.” You grumbled softly. The pull of a third devil fruit registering to your senses suddenly.

Having been around Williams all week as he showed off was exhausting. Now actively pulling on your power along with Fire Fist and this new person actively made you want to take a nap.

You had yet to figure out how to lessen your own power or at least focus on only one person, so you simply had to deal with it when actively boosting someone from a distance. Part of you worried that boosting stronger devil fruits was going to be even more exhausting than the weak ones you’ve encountered so far. And you might actually be right about that.

“There you are, Stefan. Oyaji was looking for you.” Someone spoke up above you. You startled, looking up at the stranger.

Open-toed sandals and capris with an open purple shirt exposing defined abs and a purple Whitebeard Jolly Roger. The man looked down at you with amused blue eyes narrowed, blond hair poking out from the top of an extreme undercut.

Marco ‘The Phoenix’.

Welp, that’s definitely your sign to run. Casually. So, he doesn’t suspect anything.

Something told you that your bosses would be pissed if the Whitebeard Pirates got a free power boost by ransoming you. If they gave up the obvious benefits of such a prisoner to begin with.

“Oop. Time to go, baby.” You kissed Stefan’s head and darted away, running directly towards the very explosive fight between Fire Fist and Williams. Snagging the back of his collar as you kept going.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU USELESS—”

“The Phoenix and Fire Fist are here—we definitely can’t take them both in. Time to go!” You explained as you ran.

“No! I can do it! What do you know, you useless bitch?!” Williams flailed, breaking your grip on his shirt before slamming his fist into your face. Heat and a crunch of bones sent shockwaves of red and blood across your vision, sending you to the ground with a yelp. Your glasses bouncing off from impact and cracking.

“Fuck!” You hissed, clutching your nose as you blindly looked around, tears falling down your cheeks. You could make out an impressive explosion of fire somewhere ahead of you through your tears and poor vision. A wobbly white blob trotting up to your side with a low wine and bark. What was probably Stefan licking your arm and pawing at your side in worry.

Steady footsteps clacked along the paved street, a dark shadow falling before you as fire exploded behind the figure.

“That was quite a hit. You alright?” The Phoenix asked as he lowered down suddenly. Glass scrapped against the ground. Your glasses were gently lowered onto your face, bringing him into focus with a hairline fracture and tears obscuring your vision somewhat.

“’M fine—not the first time he’s done that--!” You gasped as his fingertips brushed over your knuckled grasp on your bloody nose. Blue fire exploded around you as the various aches and pains were swept away in an instant. Dizziness rushed to your head at the sudden relief.

You almost broke contact as The Phoenix cursed his sudden, uncontrollable fire, falling back to the ground. But his hands were faster and firmly grasped your shoulders.

After several, bizarrely euphoric moments of bathing in the healing flame, The Phoenix wrangled his powers back under control with a grimace. Blood still covered your hands and face but the injury, as well as any other injury, was gone. He looked at you in surprise and you could only gape up at him.

Having established physical contact, any boost others experienced was gone in an instant. Your ‘pseudo-immunity’ to devil fruits meant that your body essentially acted like it was your power as well. And that meant you got to enjoy a small taste in what it was like to have a devil fruit like The Phoenix’s for as long as he maintained that contact. It was weirdly heady. Sort of freeing to feel your weakness being eaten away under the healing influence of his devil fruit.

Almost to the point of forgetting that this, quite critically, meant that your under-powered partner was royally fucked.

Williams barely stood a chance if you had held his hand through the fight. Without any assistance against Fire Fist Ace, it wasn’t even a question. As much of an ass as he was, he didn’t deserve to be killed.

Worried, you tried to look around The Phoenix to see what was happening. He clicked his tongue, pulling your chin back to look at him. His eyes were narrowed and suspicious, a strange light in his eyes as he gave you a small, chilling smile.

“Now, who are you and what was that?” The Phoenix demanded. You shuddered, noticing how oddly quiet it was behind the pirate.

“M-My devil fruit! It—uhm—affects other devil fruits?” You lamely explained as Stefan tried to nose his way onto your lap. You would have preferred to look at the cute, needy dog, but The Phoenix looked like he was about to eat you. “Makes… makes them stronger around me. O-Or just… touching.”

A cold chill went up your spine as he grinned.

“And you’re not assigned to at least an admiral at all times? What a waste… I guess the marines don’t want to keep you that badly, do they?” He clicked his tongue again. “Well, you’re in good hands now, yoi. Let’s get you cleaned up. Stefan! Down!” He ordered, lifting you over his shoulder as you yelped, scrambling to hold onto your glasses. The town was wrecked behind The Phoenix, Fire Fist cheerily skipping up with Williams over his own shoulder.

“Hey, Marco! Did you see how weird that was!? What do you think his devil fruit is?” Fire Fist asked. The Phoenix turned around with a huff.

“Put the marine down. Got the source right here.” He responded.

“Oh! I take it we’re keeping them? Think Oyaji will mind?”

The Phoenix snorted.

“Oyaji will be ecstatic. Marines don’t know how to take care of people right, anyway.” You were jostled lightly as he started walking, Stefan trotting behind while panting happily up at you. You were horrified and nervous, but the addition of Stefan was helping ease your nerves. “They can boost devil fruits but wasn’t assigned to an admiral, can you believe that? Just a weakling. Imagine if it was someone else that found them, yoi?” You struggled to push yourself up, but was aware that you weren’t getting down unless The Phoenix let you.

Unlike Williams, you knew your limits.

“Hah! Wow. At least Gramps could have trained them up safely. Marines are stupid though, so I can’t say I’m too surprised.” Fire fist declared. Boots stomped on the ground as Fire Fist rounded The Phoenix, poking his head to look at you with a charming grin. “Don’t worry, you’re going to love it here! Ah… and no one will do this again.” Fire Fist grabbed your hands, inspecting the blood and what was still smeared around your nose. His eyes dark with promise as you stared in horror.

Were you being kidnapped for your power or… something else? Because to be honest, it sure didn’t sound like they were too interested in your own devil fruit ability.