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jmagnabo92 · 2 years

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Padfoot at the Pound

Could fit into the James Lives AU. Harry and Sirius Saturday plus some Prongsfoot Sunday. :)

Sirius and Harry play fetch in the park, and animal control ends up picking up Padfoot, who spends two nights in the Pound.

***

Sirius’ favorite day of the week is Saturday – not because sometimes he has dates with his lovely husband James, but because whenever Harry doesn’t have plans with friends, his kid likes playing fetch with Padfoot.

The ten-year-old had been far more interested in spending weekends with his friends than with his parents, but Sirius could admit that he missed the days when he and James were Harry’s whole world. Thus, when Harry announced that the sleepover at Connor’s was cancelled due to chicken pox, he immediately offered for two of them going to hiking through the woods to their favorite park where they typically play fetch just the two of them.

Arriving at the park, Harry says, “Alright, Padfoot, ready to play?”

Sirius nods, immediately chasing after the ball as he throws it and teasing him with it when he comes back by running around a gleefully happy Harry, who’s coincidentally yelling, “Bad dog – just give me the ball.”

Eventually he does, and Harry throws it again.

Again, and again the process repeats for hours until Harry gets tired and it’s almost time for dinner. As Sirius brings the ball back one last time, Harry says, “Wanna race home?”

Sirius nods, and they both take off.

Unfortunately, he lets Harry take the lead because he wants to watch and make sure that Harry will get home safely and as Harry makes it onto the path that leads through the woods, Sirius is stopped by a couple of men in uniforms. He’s confused and can’t change back to explain, so he backs up, growling at them, only to suddenly find that there was someone behind him who has a makeshift collar and leash.

He’s pulled back and suddenly feels a needle in his hindquarters and everything going black.

***

“Dad! Dad!” Harry yells as he runs through the door. “I lost Pads!”

“What do you mean you lost Pads?” James asks as he looks up from his sudoku puzzle. He’d been spending the afternoon enjoying the quiet while his husband and son played at the park.

“I mean – he was following me as Padfoot and then all of a sudden, he wasn’t – I realized, and I ran back, and I saw some animal control men putting him in the back of a van. I tried to tell them that he was my dog, but they wouldn’t believe me – said someone called about a rogue menace and that they were taking him to the pound.”

He’s not surprised to find that someone would’ve called animal control on Padfoot, particularly since there’s this one redheaded woman that purely loathes Padfoot since she always finds him a bit aggressive because she’s always flirting with James in front of him and he’s naturally jealous.

“Alright, best go break him out then.”

***

Sirius is furious when he wakes up again. He’s stuck as Padfoot inside a medium-sized cage with a muzzle and nothing else. Immediately, he wants to get it off. He’s a human pretending to be a dog – he should not be treated like an actual dog.

“Oh, look who’s awake,” a brown-haired worker comments, laughing slightly as his attempts to get the muzzle off.

“Don’t antagonize the dogs, Jack,” another man says, who looks vaguely familiar. “It’s hard for them to be locked up and you’re not helping by being aggressive towards them.”

“He was aggressive, first.”

“He’s a dog – he was reacting to being trapped.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t know why you care so much. There’re just animals,” Jack states before heading for the door, “I’m going on break. Be careful with that one.”

As soon as Jack leaves, the second man approaches him, and says, “Don’t bite me now, Padfoot.”

Sirius nods, still confused, slightly. This isn’t James, so who could it be?

The man takes the muzzle off, “There you go – I’d let you out, but I can’t – this is the longest job I have had in a while, and I can’t lose it. The people here are very understanding about the full moon nights I need off because the rest of the time I take the unwanted shifts. Just me and the dogs.”

Sirius tilts his head and narrows his eyes. Full moon? Padfoot? Not having long-term jobs? Remus?

“Ah, you didn’t recognize me at first. It has been a decade – more than really, but it’s me – Moony,” Remus says. “Not exactly how I thought we’d meet again.”

If he could talk, he’d say the same, instead he nods.

Remus smiles as he opens the food door to give him food and water. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to get you out,” he says as Sirius snorts at the offering, “until then, you’ll have to slum it with the rest of the dogs here. Might learn a thing or two.”

Sirius snorts, and still refusing to acknowledge the food, no matter how hungry he is, and moves to the furthest reaches of the cage, which isn’t very far to be away from it.

***

“Hi, I think you have my dog,” James says as he enters the nearby Pound with Harry in tow. It’s late, and the receptionist is already gone, but there’s a nearby man who looks like he’s one of the workers, leaning against the doorway of a hall that looks like it has the dogs and other animals in cages.

“What makes you think that?” a brown-haired man with a nametag that reads Jack asks.

“Oh, well, my son was playing with him, and they were going to race back to the house, but he turned around only to spot animal control carting him off,” James states. “I can’t imagine why animal control would’ve been called, he’s a lovable dog really – just slightly big… which can be scary, but he really is…”

“Lovable? He’s a menace. We’ve had numerous complaints about him. So, yeah, when I got the call – I immediately went to go pick him up.”

“What? He wasn’t even doing anything wrong – he was playing fetch,” James states, angrily. “You were plotting against him? What do you have against my dog?”

Before Jack could answer, another man comes out, “Hi, I’m Zach, may I help you?”

“You have my dog,” James states. “My son was playing with him, and they weren’t doing anything wrong. This man claims my dog is a menace and that there’s mean numerous complaints, and that’s why he jumped at the chance to go pick him up when he was nothing wrong.” He’s angry and struggling to hold it in.

“Okay, take a deep breath, and tell me – does your dog have a collar?”

“Uh, no – he’s really good, he’d never run off so…”

“Okay, so tell me what he looks like.”

“He’s big and black, very furry, sheds everywhere, like a sheepdog or wolfhound, we don’t quite know what breed he is – just sort of guessed,” James states. “He’s here, right?”

“He is here,” Zach assures him. “And he’s going to stay here because if he doesn’t have a collar that means you haven’t registered him and we can’t let him go without registering him – filling out the paperwork, discussing the complaints that have been assigned to him, coming up with the plans to deal with the complaints and paying the fine.”

James frowns, all of that sounded like it would take time – a lot of time and he wanted to bring his husband home. “I – can’t I just pay the fine and promise to keep him on a leash from now on?”

“Not with the number of complaints we’ve had,” Zach states. “Not to mention the lack of paperwork.”

“Okay, fine. Giving me the paperwork, I’ll do it now.” Maybe he’s wrong and it won’t take too long.

“I can’t get you the paperwork, but I’m only the supervisor – you have to meet with the manager about the complaints and everything.”

“Great, is he coming in soon?” James asks.

“Uh, no, he’ll be in on Monday afternoon.”

“Monday?” James asks, aghast. “I can’t leave him in there for almost two days.”

“He’s just a dog,” Jack scoffs. “He can handle two days in a cage. Might teach him something.”

James glares at him, but Zach says, “Get out of here – it’s time to walk each one of them.”

“Fine.”

Once he’s gone, Zach turns to James, “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t come in on Sundays and he is the only one that can okay a release. Usually, it takes some time for the owners to make their way down here – especially on the weekend. He’s here Monday through Friday, so…”

“Paddy’s not coming home,” Harry questions from beside him. Their son is looking so upset and guilty when this isn’t his fault.

Zach looks down at him, “If it makes you feel better, you can at least say hi to him, but no.”

Harry looks up hopefully. “Please, Daddy?”

“Yes, of course.”

***

The sounds of Harry and James asking about the conditions of the pound and what normally happens to the dogs that have to stay overnight reach Sirius’ ears and he rushes to the front of the cage.

“Paddy!” Harry yells, rushing to him. “I’m so sorry.”

He lets Harry pet him through the bars of the cage, wondering why they weren’t opening the door. “It’s not your fault, Harry. Things happen – Padfoot understands that –”

“But he has to stay in here for two days!”

Two days? Sirius thinks, turning to James and trying to convey his confusion.

“It’s just a couple of days – something about registering, complaints and rules on release. You’ll be fine,” James assures him. “We’ll be back Monday afternoon.”

Monday afternoon?

“You talk to him like he’s human,” Zach comments.

“We’ve always treated our pets with the idea of them being a member of the family that could understand us,” James states to cover his strange behavior. “I just think of him as so much more than as a dog. He’s family.”

“Alright, well, I’m sorry you have to wait, but you’ll have him back soon – I promise.”

“Thank you,” he looks back at Sirius. “We have to go now, but we’ll be back on Monday – just behave.”

Sirius glares at him, while Harry whines, “I don’t want to leave him behind!”

“It’s just for a couple of days, as soon as we can get him back, we will, I promise.”

“But he can’t – can’t stay here…” Harry says, starting to cry.

“Oh, Harry,” James starts, looking upset and uncertain. Usually, Sirius would be the one to comfort him, but he can’t when he’s in a cage. “I – he’ll be fine…”

“I’ll take good care of him, Harry,” Remus says, reentering the room, with a different dog that was in the pound. He puts the dog in its cage and turns to Harry, James and Sirius. “I promise.”

“Remus?” James asks, eyes wide in surprise. “I – what are you doing here?”

“I work here – been working here about three months. I recognized Padfoot, but you got here before I could call or find your number,” Remus swallows, nervously. “I know it’s – it’s been a while…”

“Yeah, it has,” James states, not giving any sort of reaction. “But um, maybe we should talk another time.”

“Would you be willing?” Remus questions. “I haven’t seen any of you in a long time and – and I thought you…”

James takes a deep breath. “If you take good care of Padfoot, then yes, I think we’d owe you at least a dinner and a talk… it’s been long overdue.”

“I promise, I will,” Remus smiles.

“Good, then, we’ll see you soon.” He turns to Sirius, gives him a pet, and tells Sirius, “Be good, Padfoot. We’ll see you on Monday. I love you.”

***

Living in the pound had definitely been humiliating for Sirius. Only being allowed dog food and drinking out of a bowl, only being let out to do his business outside on a leash whenever the workers let him, having to whine for more attention when he needs it, and finally, living in a cage.

He couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t just get up and roam around like he normally would. He missed checking on Harry or waking James for some fun in the middle of the night. The cage was hard and cold, and he spent most of his time listening to the other dogs’ whines and barks, completely bored. He had no entertainment at all except for the workers.

He hated every minute of it – the only thing that helped was that whenever that arsehole Jack was giving him all sorts of bollocks about how he was a menace and shouldn’t be let out (apparently, his wife was the one calling the pound on him), Remus would intervene.

“Leave that dog alone,” he’d say. “Don’t you think being locked up here is enough?”

Jack continually scoffed, but would stop until the next hour or so, and do it again. In between Jack’s bollocks, Remus would talk to him. Tell him that it’s not that bad, that it’ll be over soon, and at least it’s temporary. Sometimes, he’d talk a little about his life in the last decade, how surprised he was to see them all – how he wondered if he’d ever see them, again. How he was sorry that he thought Sirius could’ve been a traitor. These things were meant to make Sirius feel better, but it was difficult when Sirius couldn’t offer anything back except for a nod or a shake of the head.

Thankfully it’s now Monday morning and he should hopefully be let out soon. He couldn’t wait, and definitely would be trying to forget every moment of this weekend of hell in this pound as soon as he was out.

He’s being led around on the leash by Remus in the yard for his business when he sees James and Harry.

“Paddy!” Harry yells running to the fence. He reaches through to pet him. “Are you okay?”

Sirius nods, and Remus adds, “He’s been fine, he’s just a little bit embarrassed by the situation, I’m sure.”

James nods, “Well, we’ll be getting him out soon – any chance Harry can just play with him while I deal with everything?”

“Of course, we can them in one of the getting to know you rooms, but,” he lowers his voice, “he shouldn’t change back until you’re back home.”

“I will make sure he doesn’t,” James assures him. “We’ll meet you in the front.”

Remus nods and he leads Sirius into one of the rooms where Harry’s led into the room on his own minutes later. He throws his arms around Sirius and mutters all of the reasons that he’s sorry about the situation. Sirius shakes his head, subtly trying to tell Harry that it isn’t his fault. Sirius should’ve been following closer or not to suggest that James shouldn’t also come so that he could spend some time alone with their kid.

It’s his fault and he should be more aware of how he comes off to other people – particularly that redhead that’s Jack’s wife, who hates him because he’s aggressive with her due to her interest in his husband. Harry’s not at fault for this.

“Harry, I’m sure that Sirius –” he gives Remus a look, “– that your Paddy doesn’t blame you at all. Why don’t you tell him about what he missed in the weekend?”

Sirius nods, and Harry still doesn’t appear to believe it, but instead, pets him and tells him all about their weekend. “Dad and I decided to distract ourselves from you being in here by going to Harrods to buy you some presents. Daddy said your anniversary is coming up and he wants to make sure that you have the best presents ever. So, we picked up some things that you’re going to love.”

He details the shops that they visited, their plans for special dinner tonight and how James called Harry off school because he figures that Harry wouldn’t be paying attention in school with one of his fathers in doggie jail. He talks about their plans for next weekend and how he really wants Sirius to come to his play on Friday night (as if he’d ever miss it) and how Connor’s sleepover was moved to Saturday, but he sort of wants to spend some more time with James and Sirius after the craziness of the weekend.

He’s just about to tell him about what he wants to do this weekend, when James is appears in the doorway. “We’re free to go,” he grins as he takes a new light blue collar with the name Padfoot on a tag and a leash and attaches it to Sirius. “We’ve just got to remember to keep Padfoot on a leash from now on.” Sirius growls a little at that, but James says, “I’d like to not have my husband at home rather than in the pound, so if Padfoot needs a leash and collar, that’s exactly what we’re going to do – especially since it cost 500 pounds with how many complaints there were.”

Sirius nods, feeling bad about the cost of this situation, and James turns to Remus. “Thank you for looking out for him. Um, maybe we could get together this week?”

“I look forward to it,” Remus states. “Feel free to give me a call or send an owl…”

“We live in this world, don’t actually have an owl,” James states, uncomfortably. “We’ll give you a call.”

“Sounds good. See you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

***

Sirius basks in the feeling of the water of the shower. Luckily, he wasn’t bathed in that place since he didn’t stink when they picked him up. Still, he immediately made for the shower after assuring Harry that it was not his fault that Sirius had antagonized the woman at the park for weeks because of … well, he didn’t tell Harry why he’d been upset with her.

The water feels great as he washes away the grime, and he’s relieved by the freedom he feels at just being able to do something so basic on his own.

“Damn, you look so good,” James says, clearly watching through the clear shower door. “Despite the fact that you’ve spent the last two days in doggie jail.”

“You’re not going to let it go anytime soon, are you?” Sirius teases even as James joins him. “Teasing me about being stuck as Padfoot and thrown in doggie jail.”

“Hmm-mm, well, it is funny now that you’re out,” James grins, his hands wandering over his body. “To be fair, I know it must’ve been embarrassing.”

“It was embarrassing – eating dog food, being on a leash, in a cage – it was awful,” Sirius admits. “I’m looking forward to that welcome home dinner you promised me.”

“Hmm-mm, it’s coming along nicely – thought I’d use a bit of magic to watch it while having some fun with you in the shower.” James gives him a deep kiss as he fingers Sirius’ hole. “Are you in the mood for me?”

“Aren’t I always?” Sirius grins. “Could be just the distraction I’m looking for.”

“Good.”

***

James can’t help smiling at his husband with Harry as he reads him a bedtime story. Harry’s been ‘too old’ for bedtime stories for passed couple of years, but suddenly, tonight, he wanted Sirius to read him a story. Sirius, thrilled, had settled in for a long story while James watched from the doorway.

He loves watching Harry and Sirius together. He loves knowing that they have such a bond together. Sirius is a wonderful father and partner and James loves to see it.

“Alright, it’s time to go to sleep,” Sirius states, closing the book he’d been reading.

“No! Can’t you keep going?”

“Sorry, pup, but you’ve got school tomorrow,” Sirius states. “And you should’ve gone to school today.”

“I know,” Harry grumbles. “But I couldn’t help thinking about you in doggie jail.”

“I was fine – I told you. It’s not as comfortable as being home, but it was a little – doggie vacation.”

“It didn’t look like a doggie vacation,” Harry states, calling him on his lie. “All the dogs in there looked sad.”

“Well, they just missed their families, so it’s not the best doggie vacation, but it’s not so bad,” Sirius states. “Besides, it was only a couple of days – nothing to worry about.”

“But –”

“No, Harry, stop worrying. I was fine, and now, I’m home.” Sirius leans down and kisses Harry’s forehead. “I’m home, and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You really don’t blame me?”

“Of course not, it’s all my fault – just like I told you,” Sirius assures him. “I love you, kid, believe me – you’re fine.”

“I love you, too, Paddy. I’m happy you’re home.”

“Happy to be home, now get some sleep,” Sirius says. Another kiss on the forehead, before getting up and saying, “Good night, pup.”

“Good night, Paddy. ‘Night, Dad.”

“Night, Harry,” James says as they turn out the lights, and close the door. As soon as they’re safely in their bedroom, James smiles because he always gets so turned on when he sees Sirius being such a good dad, “You’re so great with him.”

Sirius grins at him, “Well, he’s my son, too.”

James kisses him, subtly starting to undress him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Sirius breathes between kisses. “And I missed you while I was in doggie jail.”

“I missed you, too – no more getting yourself thrown in doggie jail.”

“I promise, love.”

“Good.”

#Sirius Black #Harry James Potter #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter #Padfoot #Pound #Sirius and Harry bonding #sirius and harry saturday #Sirius and Harry #Sirius & Harry #James and Harry #Sirius Black/James Potter #Prongsfoot #Prongsfoot Sunday

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yandere-writer-momo · 11 months

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Monster F-er Presents: Grimm’s Darling Fairy Tales!

A mix between Brother’s Grim and Disney Movies brings you the magic of sweet dArK adorable, and heartwarming PoSsEsSiVe romance between the Darling Reader and the main character/s of each story! Including magic, dEaTh fantasy, GoRe and finding your true love! yOu BeLoNg To ThEm-

As your being forced against your will to stay and never having the chance to go home-

So stay for awhile! Either lay down in bed or sit in a chair and read each and every story, until it satisfies you to your heart’s content! WhY aRe YoU cRyInG?

You can’t leave, why would you want to leave??? Is there someone who’s making you scared? Who is it?! We’ll KILL them so they’ll never bother you again!! WHERE ARE YOU RUNNING!?!??!!!

ErRoR eRrOr ErRoR

What do you think? I tried to do a spine-chiller type of thing here (I don’t know if it was good or not since this is the first time doing it) with a few ideas on some classic Fairy Tales but with some Rizzy Twists (Or Twists you think would work better)

Sorry if that was creepy or not creepy enough (Did you get some Goosebumps?)

If you’re curios, I can send you the Starring List of Each Baki Character with the star; Darling Reader! (It’s just the Name Titles and ‘Star Actors’ for each Story, along with the simple Plot Line, but with a Twist!)

Example;

Little Darling Hood

Characters: Reader (As ‘Little’ short Darling Hood as the cute little baker, who comes to Jack’s ‘aid’ not realizing her mistake)

Jack (As the Hunter/Lumberjack of the town that lives deep in the woods all alone secretly the infamous Big Bad Werewolf that terrorizes nearby villages by devouring their cattle, livestock and foolish hunters that think they can kill him)

Plot: Jack Hanma is the Hunter and Lumberjack of the small village and falls sick, but his size and stoic demeanor makes everyone too afraid to help him, except for sweet and kind Reader, who decides to go to his cabin to take care of him! (With a basket full of medicine, pastries and the meat and vegetables he gave her as a gift yesterday)

However, Reader doesn’t realize that ‘poor’ Jack isn’t sick, but he’s actually in his Heat Cycle trying to stay away from said cute baker to not scare her (But now that she’s in his cabin, he’s going to devour her whole, and not in the way she thinks)

Jack please be gentle, you wouldn’t want to scare your mate would you? Let her know she’s safe, after all she accepted your proposal! That’s why she came to you with the food you gave her before your cycle started, to show you can provide for her better than anyone else, and she came to CARE for you, like a kind and loving mate should do!

And before you ask, YES Jack will look a cross between Human and Werewolf at the moment (He looks bigger to, but it’s his very soft and fluffy fur that makes him look beefier than he usually looks, which is covering his entire body minus some of his face)

I hope this wasn’t weird (My ADHD is running wild right now and I can’t stop it) Proceeds to stare into the distance with a deranged look realizing how much of a freak I really am I really like your stuff and I’m know for getting to hyper-fixated on things I really like (Your writing is the stuff I like)

Another potential fic to add to my queue.

My WIPs so far

Kizaki x fem!reader x Yandere Hanayama 🌶️

Yeti Sikorsky x Sacrificial Bride reader x Dwarf Gaia

Orc Jack Hanma x princess reader (450 special)

Biscuit Oliva x Sugar baby reader 🌶️

Werewolf Jack x R.R.H reader 🌶️

Collab with @de4thbl4de 💕 (might hold a poll for who we should write about)

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marciabrady · 1 year

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I read your post about how Hollywood and media have lately dismissed classic romances for being "unrealistic" - like the ones of Snow White and Cinderella with their princes - and I feel that's consequence of the 'deconstructing everything' trend that many critics in Youtube and media in general started in the 2000s. It's not only the Disney movies, even movies like Titanic haven't been free of this, as I have read many people complaining that Jack and Rose fell in love in only four days and "they were very young" or that they can't believe that Jack was the love of her life and not the husband she later married for years - since it was Jack whom she met in the afterlife. There's so much cynicism and an excess of going "meta" in movies and I feel like that is affecting the industry right now, romances are measured like a scientific study of "for how much time they met or how mature they were to comprehend what love means" in order to approve what qualifies a "realistic romance" and I feel like this remove the magic and heart in the stories.

I completely agree and I think the key word to what you said was "scientific." This is not the purpose of film or any art- there are a variety of values to the medium of film, like escapism, representation, hope, creativity, but it isn't science. Aurora and Phillip meeting in the woods is the essence of romance to me and I don't care about the screentime being "limited." Cinderella finding love at the ball after being abused her entire life gives me a high that modern romances don't. Snow White finding someone who sings to her of his love being "constant and true" and being so driven to find her that he aimlessly wonders through the forest for seasons in search of his lost love is something that's leagues above modern Disney ships that, to me, don't have chemistry or are awkward around one another. And that's okay, because we're allowed to like different things! I think the fault of the contemporary critic is they ignore the nuance of art. So, let's view films as people. Let's say I don't like a certain comedian, for instance, but that doesn't mean said comedian has no merit by existing or their own fans. Instead of critics and modern audiences simply saying, "this comedian isn't for me" they want to omit every single one until there's literally one person left in the industry. Which is unnatural, because you can't be all things to all people and not everyone is going to like the same person! (which is why I think it's bizarre that LITERALLY every ranking I've seen of the princesses has the original three in the bottom of the ranking and, without fail, Rapunzel and Belle in the top three slot)

With films, it's like they want to omit everything about a genre or style for future generations until we only get one type of female character that's approved in their checklist, one type of generic plot that has to go through all the motions instead of being focused on capturing an actual bond/vibe, making sure it's palatable to as many people as possible- almost as a machine- and it's just so indicative of the extremely consumerist culture we're living in and it's okay to let people have different interpretations of the same thing! For instance, just because some people don't like Aurora and think she's passive doesn't mean that's the case, it just means that character is not for them and they'll gravitate to someone else. If they like another character better, that doesn't mean we have to do away with characters like Aurora forever and only ever create more versions of the popular character over and over again and that can be the only model we have moving forward. Likewise, I think they want to feed people everything about a character which is so annoying to me. If everyone has the same take on one character, where's the art??? Idk there's so much more to say on this, and I've spoken about it before but I very much agree with your ask and appreciate it being sent in!

#ask #anonymous

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mywifeleftme · 7 months

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195: Run the Jewels // Run the Jewels

Run the Jewels Run the Jewels 2013, Fool's Gold

Even as someone who was very hyped for this monster mash album to drop back in 2013, I could’ve used El-P and Killer Mike’s chances at becoming mainstream music stars as a creative simile for extreme remoteness. Run the Jewels started life as a Watch the Throne joke—e.g. while you pay obeisance to the supposed kings, we’re behind them jacking their shit. The name seemed right: any time you put Mike on a pop-adjacent track, he sounded too brash, too angry to fit the scheme, whereas El-P probably scanned to most listeners as like, Comic-Con Bubba Sparxxx or something. It remains bizarre to contemplate that El-P’s original crew, Company Flow, released their groundbreaking Funcrusher EP a year before Jay-Z’s Reasonable Doubt, and Mike had been OutKast’s war dog since the turn of the century. In other words, these were two rapper’s rappers who made a living on rhymes but didn’t seem likely to have say great prospects of retiring comfortably.

youtube

It just goes to show what a creative release strategy (Run the Jewels dropped for free at a time when that concept still had some novelty) and an absolute banger record can do for ya. After years of ambitious, CD-stuffing projects by both men, Run the Jewels is a trim 33-minute object lesson in the power of elite shit-talking. Ten years on their particular chemistry is fixed enough to be fondly roasted, but at the time I’d never heard either man rap as freely, or hilariously, as they did here. Some particularly treasured bars:

Woo, they done let that fuckin' Mike out It's like Tyson in the '80s Nigga snap and punch your lights out, yeah It's like Tyson in the '90s, if I'm losing, take a bite out I'm so motherfuckin' grimy, so motherfuckin' greedy, gritty Mama said she couldn't breastfeed 'cause I was bitin' at the titty — Mike

Yo, Killer Mike and El-P, fuck boys, think about it Fuck you gonna sell me? You don't know a thing about us Women dosed with ayahuasca drum circle and sing about us Dolphins prone to rape'll hear the tape and stop to think about it Monks will immolate themselves until the record hits the shelves Yetis walk right out the woods to cop it without thinkin' bout it Workers at the sweatshop kill they boss to how the vets drop Worker ants surround their queen and chew the bitch's head off Drug dogs bark at the tour bus when it park Priests take the cock out of their mouths To hum along when the chorus drop — El-P

It's time for Skywalker talkers t’meet the true Darth Vader I hit your mom in '03, but a G ain't ate her So baby boy, you should tighten up and show some respect Before I Melvin on you, Jody, put my arm on your neck Or worse yet, be the reason your girl want a divorce Be at her crib with your kids saying ‘Fuck your fort, lil' nigga!’ — Mike

Born to the next-gen system Slow water drip to the temple to live in a prison When the walls don't appear to your vision One floor down from that mall's that prison Where shower stalls'll get all y'all missin' Pardon me, I got half-wit vision But fuck I know? I just crawled here, cap'n — El-P

I'm fat but I dress nice, and bitches finesse Mike They suck the dick and squeeze on my belly like bagpipes — Mike

I'ma smoke 'til the planet erases Build a white flag out of Zig Zags, wave it — El-P

And so on. Alongside El-P’s signature production, limber and consistently knocking, it is the sheer “What will they say next?” pleasure of two elite battle rappers trading the mic back and forth (something that doesn’t happen on Watch the Throne as often as you might remember) that scratched the deep itch of boom-bap-bro nation. Over three more excellent LPs to date, they’ve expanded their sound and skewed ever more topical, but RTJ have never abandoned the template that made them unlikely stars. And for my money at least, it’s this first one that best stands the test of time.

youtube

195/365

#run the jewels #halloweek #killer mike #el p #music review #'10s music #vinyl record #hip hop #indie rap

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will-you-pick-me · 1 year

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(happy 2 provide interaction by sending asks :) i dont do it often enough but im rlly intrigued and it is. 3:39 am and we r both awake lol) Ulrich begrudgingly getting a little shelf for display would actually save me because I dont really snuggle my lil guys (i toss and turn and get WAY too warm if they are in my tiny twin sized bed with me) so like <3 <3 thank u king ur saving us both oohh, if they had to pick something to fight with, be it physical or intangible, what would they pick?

3:42 here as I recieved this lmao, so we must be in similar timezones! Don't worry though, I did have a little nap and just woke up a little bit before midnight. I'm also eating right now too, so nobody yell!

We stan our emotionally constipated king tbh <3 But he still needs laxatives injected directly into his heart istg---

Mikey fights pretty regularly, actually, due to him really putting the "crimes" part in "be gay do crimes", and his "little helper" that's been referenced before in a blurb is a steel bat with nails driven into it. He can still handle a gun pretty competently if he needs to, though, but he just prefers the more visceral feeling of wielding the bat.

Ulrich, despite working out, prefers to not get into fights himself - why bother when he can pay someone else to do it for him? But, on the off chance that a fight is imminent and he doesn't have the time to call a lackey to come handle it for him, then, well - you know what they say, the pen is mightier than the sword. And he'll make good on that, jabbing it's sharp metal end into necks and eyes and anything else he can reach, gouging deep tears until either backup arrives or his enemy decides it's not actually worth it.

Zach doesn't like fighting. They hate being reminded of how squishy and delicate you humans are, how finite mortality is. But to protect you... They'll fight, if they have to. Burn them from the inside out with divine fire, as they hold you close and shield your eyes so you don't go blind. They'll apologize profusely, horrified that you had to witness that in any way shape or form, and they're taking you back to their place immediately to bundle you in blankets and brew you some tea, putting you first even though there's a deep discomfort crawling in their bones at what they just did.

Jessica, despite the traditional femininity she's thrown herself into, didn't disavow everything she grew up with, being raised as a boy. She still has a respectable gun cabinet, a few pistols and a couple rifles and shotguns locked up with their safety's on and fully unloaded - she's responsible. But this means that if she's killing someone with those, she's thought it through first, and still decided it was worth it.

Jack is an animal - sometimes more so than he is human. In the heat of the moment, his teeth and his claws are all that he needs, easily ripping out a jugular with either. Premeditated, though, he'll hunt and herd his target into traps in the woods, causing them fear and torment before he eventually rips into them.

Narrator isn't the biggest fan of fighting, either, but unlike Zach, he'll have no post-adrenaline-rush guilt over protecting you. Ultimately, you're the most important thing in his existence, and if you weren't here, then it wouldn't be an existence worth living. That being said, he'll beat someone down with his bare fists and nothing else if he has to, but he's also capable of getting creative with it - the leg of a chair can be a club, a small table a shield, a cup can be shattered into shards that stab and cut. When it's you, he's willing to do whatever it takes.

#pick me! arg #pick me! characters #mun talks #teasers

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cf8wrk4u-us · 3 years

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If TFP Had Quirks: Jack Darby

( Please imagine a Present Mic like voice making this announcement :D)

Name: Jackson “Jack” Darby

Age: 16

Quirk: Short Range Teleport

Description: With his quirk he is able to teleport up to 10 meters at a time, though he has to see the location he wants to teleport to first. Despite this condition his power compensates itself by allowing him to rapidly teleport multiple times in a row before getting tired, highest number being 18. He is able to take others with him when he teleports, while none living things need to be the size of a fridge to travel with him. Downside is that with each person he teleports with his stamina and number of teleports decreases, meaning he tires himself faster when he needs to transport someone with him.

Quirk AU: Predatory

Jack was running and panting through the forest as Arachnid chased him, he felt disgusted in himself for leaving Arcee but knew that he couldn’t help her. And besides, their aggressor was focused more on him at this time. He looked back with the corner of his eye and saw the dark femme climbing up the hill towards him.

"That's the spirit, Jack" She smirked "Play hard to get"

The teenager ran faster as he continued to try and escape the giant Insecticon, jumping over rocks and dead branches he stumbled into a fallen tree in his path and feeling like he had no better option he climbed over it before ducking just under its trunk.

When Arachnid approached the fallen tree Jack held his breath, hoping that she doesn't spot him in his shabby hiding place. For while all he could make out were her legs, long and pointed, just ready to stab into helpless prey. All seemed quite for awhile, with the teenager almost sure that the spider-bot didn’t spot him, until her oversized head appeared right in front of him.

"Hello, Jack"~ she purred with a sinister smile.

He screamed and with a visible flicker Jack teleported away from the dead tree and began running yet again. Arachnid blinked her purple optics in surprise before a pleased smile entered her face. She shot a web by from her hand but it hit a tree instead when the human before her manage to warp out of the way again.

“Slippery little thing” she mused.

without stopping Jack continued to teleport through the woods, not stopping even for a minute as between trees Arachnid continued to chase him. Not even when he reached the cliff of a canyon, his quirk making it all too easy to get to the other side.

He had hoped to have put some distance between himself and Insecticon, but she simply leaped over the canyon with her spidery legs.

Eventually needing to stop to catch his breath Jack hid behind a tree and reached to the bag on his pants and taking out his multi-functional pocket knife out and pulled out all of the blades, but realized how useless it was against the spider-bot

"Oh, who am I kidding?" he said before, teleporting away when he heard a loud brunch of twigs nearby.

At times like this he wished he had a different quirk than his teleportation. He wished for a power more strong, more powerful. Something that would have kept him from leaving his partner!

"I have to thank you Jack, you're not making this too easy" he heard her say “You know the reason I cam to this planet is because I heard the interesting gossip that this world was inhabited with a species that possessed unusual abilities, and after seeing you I’m sure I’m not going to be bored here”

A cold chill traveled Jacks spine at those words, further urging him on.

"Now, where did you scamper off to?"

Coming upon the ship from earlier he hid behind one of the dark wings, trying to keep his breath quite and shallow. Not wanting Arachnid to catch it, so when he felt that she was gone, he released his breath and teleported near the entrance of the ship. So enough Arachnid walked over across the top of her damaged ship.

"If you wanted a tour, Jack, all you had to do was ask," she said walking "Did you spot the empty space? I hope you like it, it's where you'll soon hang your head”!

But to her surprise, Jack wasn't inside the ship, he was in fact still outside and slowly slid down the miniature slope before hearing a slosh. His shoe had come into contact with some sort of blue liquid blue liquid, a substances he was all more than familiar with.

"Energon," he said out loud, thinking of a plan.

"Jack?" Arachnid said from inside her ship before she stepped outside again.

Using the magnesium fire starter to ignite the stick, after a few more tries to lite it he started blowing on it and a fire started and he threw the stick up at the energon from above and began to run away from the Cybertronian ship when Arachnid appeared again

"Jack!" She screamed as the energon began to ignite.

The ship exploded and even though Jack teleported some distance to get away from the blast the force still knocked him back and into the woods. He looked and saw as Arachnid's ship go up in flames before his very eyes.

He sighed in relief, but as he stood up next to a tree when he suddenly heard something before something landed on his shoe and securing it.

Panicked the teen teleported leaving behind his footwear. He looked down and saw that there was a web over his separated shoe. He looked up in horror only to see Arachnid, singed and burnt. Webs continued to rain down upon him and Jack did everything he could to evade them.

But finally one came in to fast and Jack found himself quickly pinned to a tree. Arachnid gave a victorious smile only to grow irritated as Jack teleported free yet again.

“You know that trick is really starting to annoy me” she hissed

“Then why not try this one”!

Suddenly hearing an engine revving, Arcee. Transforming as she jumped leaped into the air and punched Arachnid in the face, causing her to fly backwards. The fighting didn’t stop their as both femme fought fiercely with one another. Finally with another kick to her chassis the Insecticon was launched across the forest and making a heavy sound as she landed.

Arcee looked back relieved to see her human charge in one piece "Jack, are you okay?" she still asked

"Yeah, of course," he said smiling slightly "I’m not that easy to catch”

(may change this in the future)

#transformers #Transformers Prime #tfp #archnid #arcee #transformers arcee #jackson darby #jack darby #mha quirks #quirks #quirk au

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andvys · 3 years

Text

New friend

Warnings: mentions of death and injuries, clickers, some fluff?

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

You were exhausted. You don’t even remember the last time you had something to eat and you just drank the last bit of your water that you had left. You were walking forever it seemed and you still haven’t found anything, no food, nowhere to camp, no people, nothing. You were tired. You got separated from your group a couple of months ago when your camp got overrun by a horde and you’ve been alone ever since.

You missed them, you tried finding the few people who survived that day, you’ve seen most people die, torn to shreds by clickers. Your group tried fighting them at first but there were too many of them, you had no choice but to flee.

A few days after your camp got overrun you went back and tried to find any trace of the people who survived that day, you searched for them for weeks but you just couldn’t find them. So you just started walking in hopes to come across someone from your group. But that has been months ago and you haven’t seen any of them. Maybe they just went the other way, at least you hoped they did. Not wanting to think that your friends may have died while you were still here.

You were getting tired and it was starting to get dark, you’d have to find somewhere to set up camp fast, walking around the woods in the dark was never a good idea.

Suddenly feeling like you were getting lightheaded, the lack of food and water was starting to get to you. You tried pulling yourself together but that was impossible. Your vision getting blurry, tripping over branch that was lying on the floor, you tried catching yourself but didn’t see you were stepping in mud close to where it was going downhill, you started slipping, trying to hold on to a tree, but it was too late you started falling down the hill. Landing on your back you hit your head in the process, grunting you were annoyed at yourself, looking down at your clothes you realized you were covered in mud now. You looked ridiculous.

Sitting up, you were exhausted, you desperately needed sleep, a shower and some food. Deep in thought you didn’t acknowledge the sound of clicking until you heard a branch snap somewhere behind you. Quickly you turned around seeing three clickers coming your way from afar. Jumping into action, you got up, wanting to grab your gun from your holster only to find it empty “shit, you gotta be kidding me.” This day couldn’t get any worse. Your gun must’ve fallen out when you were falling down the hill.

You grabbed your machete out of your backpack and started running, no way you could’ve fight all three of them at once without being bitten by one of them. You’d have to do it strategically. You ran as fast as you could, the clickers getting closer to you. “Damn it.” Your whole body ached, from days of walking, falling down the stupid hill and now running from those ugly things.

Suddenly you saw a gated cabin a little further away, “finally.” You sighed, running faster. That would have to do. You could jump over the gate and kill the clickers through the bars of the gate.

You got to the gate, quickly trying to climb over it, just when you were halfway over it, a clicker latched onto your foot, you tried pushing it away but it wouldn’t let go, “fucking let go, you ugly piece of shit.” You yelled while trying to kick it away, you were getting angry now. Suddenly two shots went off and your foot was free, you lost balance and fell down backwards over the gate just when the other two clickers got to the gate. Landing on your back once again, you grunted, being so over this day. “Fuck me, I hate this.” You sighed laying on your back, trying to catch your breath, totally forgetting that someone just shot the clicker that tried to eat you for dinner. You heard two more shots and the other two clickers fell. Realizing you were just laying there defenseless, you quickly got up and turned around holding your machete in front of you. Just because they shot the clickers, saving you from a gruesome death, didn’t mean that they wouldn’t harm you later on.

There stood a girl with a gun in her hand, she was around your age. Half of her auburn hair was up in a bun, while some strands fell in front of her face. She was beautiful and she was clean unlike you. You must’ve looked like a mad women right now, covered in mud from top to bottom, your hair in a ponytail with half of it already out of the hair tie from falling and running.

Not to mention the machete and you yelling at the clickers as if they could understand what you were saying.

“You good?” The girl asked you. Looking you up and down trying to analyze if you were a threat. Great with the way you looked right now she probably regretted saving your life.

You stared at her, she was the first person you have seen in months. Your people skills probably didn’t even exist anymore at this point, not to mention how beautiful she looked, as if you weren’t nervous enough already. Snapping out of your thoughts.

“Umm yeah.. I.. thanks for that.” You put your machete back into your backpack. Showing her that you weren’t a threat. You brushed your hair out of your face not realizing you just got blood on your forehead until you felt it drop on your cheek. Looking down on your hand you saw a deep cut wound, you didn’t even realize you hurt yourself when you were climbing the gate because of all the adrenaline.

“You look like shit, and the cut looks pretty deep, I can help you with that.” She said.

You look like shit? Man, that’s not nice to hear from a pretty girl but looking down on yourself you really did look like shit.

“Thanks for saving my life but I can take care of myself.” Could you really trust a stranger? You wanted to but there’s just too many bad people in this world, you never know who you can trust.

She smiled at you “you’re scared, I get that but let’s be honest by the way you look right now, I should be the one scared. You look like one of the crazy people that live in the woods and attack people just for fun.”

“That’s...rude? But yeah I guess you’re right, I’m not crazy though, I slipped and fell in mud.” You were embarrassed but gave her a shy smile.

She laughed, “how about you come inside and you get cleaned up and I’ll look at your wound, it’s just me right now, you don’t have to be scared.” She assured you.

You sighed, contemplating if you should trust her. She looked nice enough and she didn’t look like a threat. She looked badass but she didn’t seem like she would hurt you.

“Alright.”

She motioned for you to follow her into the cabin. Holding the door open for you she gave you a small smile, you looked at her one more time before going inside, immediately hit by the warmth, you sighed, you don’t remember the last time you have had that. A warm place. Safety.

“You can clean up a little, there’s a bathroom at the end of the hallway. The water is cold but it’s better than nothing, you can take a hot shower back in Jackson, I mean if you want to.” She shyly added.

“Jackson?” You questioned.

“Yeah, it’s a gated community where I live. It’s basically a small town, you can become a part of if you want to, we always take people in.” She explained, playing with her hands, she seemed a little nervous.

A gated community? You’d love to become a part of something like that but could you? After what happened to your previous group? Could you go through something like that again? You weren’t sure but keep on being alone and just wandering around the woods wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

“Sounds good.” You looked at her, she smiled at you. “I’m gonna go clean up now.” You told her. “Of course, I think I’ve seen some clothes laying around here somewhere, I’ll get them for you.”

After you cleaned yourself up and got dressed with the clothes the girl gave you, you remembered she didn’t even introduce herself to you and you didn’t either.

Walking out of the bathroom, finally clean. You saw her sitting on the sofa reading a comic. The only thing you could here was the crackle of the fire from the fireplace. She looked up and started smiling “look at you, all cleaned up. I knew there was a beautiful face under all that mud.” Looking you up and down you noticed, she started blushing.

Cute. You smiled at her “thanks, you’re not too bad yourself” trying to play it cool you introduced yourself to her.

“Oh right, I’m Ellie, umm should we stitch up your wound now?” You noticed she had a small kit laying on the table in front of her, having prepared it already for when you were done in the bathroom.

“Oh yeah, sure. I can do it myself though, you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense come here.” She motioned you to sit down on the couch next to her.

You went over sitting down, noticing how soft the cushion beneath you was, you could just fall asleep right then and there.

Ellie took your hand in hers and started disinfecting first. You focused on her face while she was stitching you up. Noticing how pretty she actually was, her face covered in freckles, the slit in her eyebrow, a strand of her hair kept falling in front of her face but it didn’t even seem to bother her. You catched yourself staring. Luckily she was too focused on stitching you up she didn’t notice it.

Her hand was soft on yours it almost felt too nice on your skin. This moment was almost too intimate, she was a stranger you just met and now you were sitting so close to each other, sure it was only because she was helping you but it felt nice you haven’t had that in so long not to mention how beautiful this girl was.

“Alright, all done. You hungry?” She asked. Looking at you.

“Umm I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already am by eating all of your food.” You suddenly felt shy under her gaze, avoiding her eyes.

“Come on, there’s a bunch of food in Jackson and I have some snacks with me. You can have them, you can get some actual food back at home.”

“Okay.”

She gave you some jerky and some nuts to snack on while she was telling you about Jackson, trying to convince you to come back with her. She explained to you how everyone had a job there and how the kids go to school there. It almost sounded to good to be true but Ellie already convinced you to come back with her.

“So it’s almost dark, do you want to come back with me? If not you can stay here but Jackson is safe and you’d actually have your own place?” She looked at you with hopeful eyes. She wanted you to come back with her. Something about you pulled her in right away and she wanted to get to know you.

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” You smiled at her noticing how she started smiling back at you.

“That’s nice, then we should head back before it gets too dark, let’s go shimmer is outside.” She got up putting her jacket and backpack back on.

“Shimmer?” You asked.

“My horse.” She answered noticing how your eyes widened at the mention of a horse.

“No way a horse!? I love horses, I always wanted one, ever since I was kid!” You were excited about a horse. Ellie almost started laughing. It was almost too funny, the way you were covered in mud earlier with a scowl on your face, machete in hand looking like you were ready to kill anything that would come your way and now you looked like a kid excited about riding a horse for the first time.

“We got a lot more horses back in Jackson, come on, you’re even allowed to get on it.” Ellie smiled at you opening the door.

She guided you towards the back of the house where Shimmer was. You immediately went over to it.

“Wow, hello you beautiful creature.” You stared at the horse, touching her.

Ellie watched the interaction, thinking how cute this moment was. “Alright we should get going”.

She got on the horse and helped you up. You sat behind her suddenly feeling shy about being this close, not knowing what to do with your hands.

“You should hold on to me, don’t want you falling off now.” She looked back at you and gave you small smile. You put your arms around her waist holding on to her.

“Alright shimmer, let’s bring our new friend home.”

Part 2?

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou imagines #tlou #tlou ellie

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ignorantarmiesclashbynight · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021 Day 18: the doctor is in | doctor’s visit

The sound of baby Jack crying becomes just another background noise in camp, same as Uncle’s complaining and Dutch’s gramophone and Bill losing at cards and Grimshaw ordering everyone about. Except Jack’s cry has hooks in it, tugging on something inside Arthur’s ribcage and setting all his senses on alert. He guesses it’s just one of them things—instincts—'cause they’re all living and sleeping so close together all the time. Like a pack of wolves, looking out for each other. The way John should be, if only he’d stuck around. The way Arthur should’ve done with Isaac.

He wakes whenever Jack does and lies there a while, just listening, waiting to see if there’s anything needed beyond a feed. Sometimes he’ll get up anyway, bring Abigail some water or fresh linens for a diaper change, wander round the perimeter once or twice. He can’t get back to sleep until he knows they’re settled anyways, so he might as well make himself useful.

At first, the kid is just a bundle of blankets. Doesn’t do much more’n drink and sleep—a bit like Uncle—and the practicalities are the main thing. But a couple months in, the smiles come, and then these little hiccupping laughs that pull on those hooks in Arthur’s chest so as he can barely breathe.

And he’s all in.

Not just because it’s family and it’s his job to look after everyone, but because it’s Jack. A whole person, right there in his arms. With his soft head and his dark eyes and his tiny hands and the way he kicks all excited when he sees Arthur’s face. Even his cry is a welcome sound—strong lungs, strong heart—yelling out for everyone to hear: I’m alive! I’m here!

He misses it when he’s out hunting or on a job, sleeping out on the plains alone. He wakes like clockwork, imagines phantom cries in the darkness, worries about whether anyone’s checked on the baby and his mama while he’s gone. Because if anything happened to them… well, he’s not sure what he’d do.

He doesn’t like to be away too long these days, just in case. The hooks get sharper the further he gets. And after three days up in the hills he rides home a little harder than usual, pushing on instead of stopping for another night, an indecipherable feeling gnawing at him, as if some sixth sense can tell something’s wrong.

He hears the cry before he makes it through the woods into the clearing. It’s different, like none he’s every heard. Thin and wailing and relentless. It threads into Arthur’s nerves and he’s stumbling through the camp to Abigail’s tent before he’s even brought his horse to a full stop.

There are other figures gathered there already, Hosea and Dutch and Grimshaw, faces pinched with worry in the lantern light. Abigail sits rocking the baby, looking like she hasn’t slept in days, her own face red and streaked with tears. Jack writhes in her arms, arching his back and clenching his fists, and the sound of his crying is even worse close-up, twisting at Arthur’s stomach, because someone so small shouldn’t ever be allowed to be in such pain.

Arthur meets Abigail’s eyes and finds them strained and desperate.

He drops to her side, brushing his thumb over the baby’s cheek—it’s hot and clammy and the boy turns his face towards his hand, as if seeking him out.

“What’s wrong with him?”

She shakes her head helplessly. “I don’t know… I just… he won’t stop cryin’… I’ve tried everything… I don’t know…”

“Boy needs a doctor,” Hosea says in an undertone.

Arthur looks from one face to the next. “Why ain’t you fetched one, then?”

Grimshaw shoots Dutch a pointed look and the man sighs, pulling Arthur aside with a hand on his shoulder. “The nearest town is four miles away and, well, we have some… concerns over whether bringing an outsider here might compromise our current precarious position with the law.”

Arthur’s brain takes a moment to translate the doublespeak. “The law? What the hell d’you do while I was away?”

“Bill might’ve held up the mail coach...” Dutch says with a wince. “Had to ride for two hour to shake ‘em off his tail. We need to move camp, and soon. Maybe we can find a doctor the next town over…”

“Dutch, look at him,” Arthur seethes, feeling his guts twist as he glances back at the poor little creature, his wails getting weaker by the minute.

He makes a decision, then and there, pushing past Dutch and kneeling in front of Abigail, hands out in entreaty.

“I’ll take him. Right now. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment she pulls the boy closer to her chest, the conflict flickering across her features. But then Jack gives a piercing cry and she sets her jaw.

“I’m goin’ with you.”

“She’s been up with him the last two nights,” Grimshaw cuts in, “She ain’t in no state…”

But Abigail drags herself to her feet, only leaning against Arthur’s ready hands for a few brief moments before standing tall, her chin held high. “I am goin’. With him.”

No one dares argue.

She passes the squirming, squalling boy to Arthur and ties him to his chest with her shawl. He can feel the heat of the little body seeping through his shirt. A fever, or infection, or something eating away at the kid. He holds him tight as he swings up in the saddle as carefully as he can, all too aware of the precious cargo he carries. Dutch helps Abigail up behind him with a respectful nod.

“Fast as you can,” Dutch says, as though it was his idea all along. “Get that boy some help.”

Arthur makes sure Abigail’s holding on tight before nudging his horse on at a pace, one hand wrapped around the baby, patting firm and steady on his back.

“Gonna be alright, kiddo,” he murmurs into the downy head, breathing in the reassuring smell of him. “Uncle Arthur’s here. Gonna be alright.”

* * *

Four miles through the dark with the baby screaming like a fox and Arthur’s heart doesn’t stop thundering the whole way.

They’re all of them exhausted—he and his horse have travelled at least twenty miles the past day alone, and Abigail’s been nursing day and night, probably worried out of her mind. She sags against his back and if it weren’t for her white-knuckled grip on his shirt he wouldn’t be sure she was even still conscious.

Jack’s cries start to quieten as they pass over the top of a rise and the soft glow of the town comes into view. But the absence of noise isn’t a comfort. The boy’s gone limp in the sling, making a pitiful sort of whimpering that leaves Arthur cold with panic.

He leans low and covers the last half mile at a gallop, Abigail’s fingers digging bruises into his sides. He can feel the same worry running through her. A tension he thinks he might never let go of. Until finally they turn into the thoroughfare and there, between a saloon and an undertaker, sits a doctor’s office.

She’s off the horse and banging on the door before he can even dismount, and then there’s a dishevelled looking man in the doorway, rumpled with sleep, and Abigail is pushing Arthur forward, her shaky hands trembling at the knotted shawl, pleading, “Help him, please, you gotta help him.”

For a moment the doctor blinks at Arthur, as if he’s the patient, before Jack gives a hiccuping murmur and the man darts into action, ushering them all inside.

* * *

Arthur’s not sure how long they’re there for, only that the sun’s fully risen by the time Jack’s finally sleeping soundly, nestled in his mother’s lap. She’s asleep too, leaned into the crook of Arthur’s shoulder on a bunk in the corner of the doctor’s office.

He should probably be resting too—its a long ride back and they’ll need to go much slower this time—but he can’t stand down just yet.

He watches the soft rise and fall of Jack’s chest. The fluttering of dreaming eyelids. Dark, like his mama. And no less tough.

The doc said it was an ear infection. The pressure of it pushing on his ear drum. Arthur knows well enough that pain; had his own experience of it as a kid and would happily trade it for a gunshot. He mentally catalogues everything the doctor told him to treat it: how often to give him the medicine, warm compresses on his ear, layin’ him on the bad side to help it drain. Abigail needs her sleep and it’s still his job to look after everyone.

“They’re lucky to have you,” the doctor says, looking on the three of them with a kindly smile. “Most days all I see round here is mining accidents and drunken brawlers. If they have families they’ve forgotten all about them. Nice to see a father so dedicated. And such a healthy young boy.”

Arthur opens his mouth to correct him but sighs instead, thinking of John, how it ought to be him sitting here. About how much he’s missing—the good and the bad—and how he’ll never get that back.

He nods his thanks to the doctor. Pays the man double for his time, to let the three of them stay another few hours. To sleep. To dream they’re a real family for just a little while.

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

Protective uncle Arthur is the best Arthur. <3

Also on AO3! Requests more than welcome (prompt list is here)

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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years

Text

As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years

Note

You were supposed to just be arm candy for the night. Quinn had strong-armed Bailey into bringing a date for the gala she was hosting. He'd staunchly refused, until she reminded him of last year's party. Maybe it was something in the air, but everyone wanted to either dance with Bailey, or sneak off with him. More importantly, everyone was constantly watching him. It was unnerving, given his history. That's where you came in.

While considering his options, he was forced to face the facts. Eden and his spouse were his only friends. Fuck Quinn, she didn't count. Couldn't trust her as far as he could throw her. Which wasn't far. Her fat tits weighed her down. He didn't trust anybody else to be that close to him the whole night, but Eden would never play along, and he'd kill Bailey before he could finish asking for his spouse to go, which was fair. Bailey had been close to both of them growing up and may or may not have nursed a crush. On both of them. At the same time. Regardless, everyone that attended these parties was some kind of scum. They were, however, very good for networking and making contacts. It's how he found Remy in the first place, after all.

Thus Bailey was left with slim pickings. He could hire one of Briar's skanks, but he couldn't trust they weren't a plant. One that would pass information back to his competition. So that was put. He could rent one of Remy's goons for the evening, but they were ill mannered and ill tempered. They'd no doubt cause a scene. He could bring one of his orphans, but again, they'd cause a scene. Not only that, it'd make him look like a massive pervert. No, bringing an orphan is something the previous caretaker would have done. He sees enough of that monster in himself daily; he didn't need any more. His last option, was to borrow Eden's kid. You were the most beautiful, well behaved little shit he'd ever encountered. Smart and resourceful, you didn't have a lot of love for anyone in town.

Getting his friends o agree was the hardest part. Eden hated the idea of his child going into that town, much less being surrounded by the people who made it awful. His spouse, well, they were skeptical he'd keep you safe. He had a lot of enemies and all of them knew it. What if someone went after their baby because you were with him? New survival equipment and cookware helped convince them. Mostly since it was basically him saying Eden could kill him with a shiny, new hatchet. Or his spouse could beat him to death with their new cast iron skillet.

You were excited to go to a party. Your uncle Bailey brought you to the store and let you pick out all kinds of clothes, just not a gown for the gala. He didn't care about your shape or size. You were wearing a long, open back dress with a slit up to your hips. It was made of black satin and had lace delicately sewn as the collar and cold shoulder sleves. It hugged your assets, the skirt flowing with each move you made. He also got you shiny silver and daimond jewelry, and black, heeled shoes with red bottoms. He even took you to get a mani-pedi. You felt so fancy!

When it was time to attend, you did your hair and make up. It was simple, and a little understated. You wanted to focal point to be on the stuff your uncle got you. He seemed happy enough that you were we wearing the outfit just as he told you to. You were thrilled to please him, after all, he was taking you out of the woods and letting you see the town! You got to meet new people! Besides, it was fun letting him dress you up. You honestly felt a little bad, like you were taking advantage of him. You weren't a child anymore, and he didn't need to spoil you like one.

On the drive to the hotel, you nervously picked at the lace on your dress. Bailey had to take a hand off the wheel and grip both of your hands in his to make you stop. It surprised you at first. Had he ever touched you before? It was usually the other way around, when you'd hug him goodbye. His hands were larger than your's. Calloused and scared, not as bad as your father's. His nails were short and well taken care of, like the rest of him. He chastised you. Your dress was expensive. You apologized profusely.

When you got to the event, all eyes were on you. Your arms wrapped around Bailey's as you let him lead you around. You didn't recognize any of the people other than Quinn. You were happy to talk with her when Bailey stopped to chat. She kept giving Bailey this funny look, like she was trying not to laugh, and wiggling her eye brows at him. If it meant anything, Bailey didn't comment on it, or explain it to you. With Quinn, was a handsome man dressed in horse riding clothes. He looked really out of place. Most people were wearing suits or gowns. Bailey didn't let you speak to him, instead sending you to savage the buffet. He didn't need to tell you twice.

While filling your plate with a variety of hordervs, you felt someone staring at you. An instinct honed while living in the woods. Looking around, you saw a darkly dressed boy watching you. He was really small, you wouldn't have guessed he was your age. His hair was kind of greasy, brushed straight down his face; covering most of it. It made his piercing green eyes stand out all the more. His face turned red and he shuffled uncomfortably when your eyes met. You offered a friendly wave and a warm smile.

Then your attention was back on the food. So many fancy bites to try. You didn't know they made quiches that small! A soft tugging on your sleeve had you turning to see the boy again, now standing in front of you.

"M- My name is Kylar." He said, not making eye contact. He was small, and his body language screamed submissiveness. It made you feel a little more at ease. You could probably kill him with your bare hands if he tried anything. You introduced yourself and offered him a baby quiche off your plate. You weren't a huge fan of meatless quiches anyway.

Kylar held the small baked good in his hands as though you had just given him your heart. You were pretty thankful when Bailey called you back over. As you walked away, you heard someone laughing. A blond boy with hair covering one eye was laughing at Kylar. Did they know eachother? Were they friends? Why was he laughing at his friend? Next to the blond, was another blond boy. The one with long hair, wearing monk's robes, scolded the boy with piercings. They looked like brothers.

When you finally made it back to Bailey, he put his arm around your waist and handed you a glass of champagne. It was bubbly and tickled your throat when you drank it. You drank a few flutes of champagne and felt really funny after the fifth one. Enough so that it was hard to walk without clinging to Bailey. Maybe it was because your face was pressed into his chest, but he smelled really good. You think that's when he decided to leave with you, but it's all hazy after that. Bailey, as it would turn out, was equally hammered. He had enough of his wits about him to rent a room for the both of you, and not drive. But not enough to keep himself from ogling you in the outfit he bought you.

He practically carried you to the room. Which was fine by you. You had a pleasant, warm feeling spreading throughout your body when you pressed against him. After unlocking the door, the pair of you stumbled into the room. It was nice and all, but Bailey had other things on his mind. One other thing, actually. You were so drunk you let him strip you of your jewelry, shoes and stockings. You didn't complain when he removed a but his boxers, not did you mention the damp tent he had going on.

You admired his physic, his scars and his tattoos. It wasn't until he was undressing you, that something in your brain clicked and told you this was wrong. You weakly tried to push Bailey away, your intoxication making hard to move or speak. You whined softly.

"What are you doing?" He ignored you entirely, tearing the gown to rip it from your gorgeous body. You squirmed under him, trying to move away, but he held you firmly in place. His hands felt really good on your hips once they were bare to him, fire igniting every where he touched.

Bailey was achingly hard. Quinn must have put something in his drink. There was no way he wanted to fuck Eden's smoking hot kid as badly as he did. It wasn't like he'd jacked off to the thought of deflowering you before. To sending you home, his seed running down your pretty thighs. Even as you weakly struggled and protested under him, he took off your bra with expert skill. When you tried to cover yourself, he gathered your hands and pinned them above your head.

"Uncle Bailey, stop." You whimpered, your begging only turning him on more. He used he free hand to force your legs apart, so he could settle between them. He thought, for a fleeting moment, about preparing you. No. He wanted to hear you screaming his name. He wanted everyone to hear it. Your undergarments were quickly pulled from your body, leaving your virginal sex exposed to him. Drunk as he was, Bailey was salivating at the sight of you; naked, tears pricking at your eyes, struggling and making the cutest sounds. He was going to fuck you till your pussy molded to the shape of his cock. His underwear went next, tossed carelessly across the room. Again, you tried to wriggle away from him.

"Uncle Bailey, please. I don't want this. I- I've never-" His lips crashed into your's before you could finish speaking. His tongue invaded your mouth, your teeth clacking together in his desperation. More focused on getting your mouth free, you were only distantly aware of Bailey lining the crying head of his cock up with your wet hole. It came to the forefront of your thoughts when he pushed against it. He was huge, bigger than you thought he would be. Not that you thought about it before. He was your uncle, why would you? You gasped as he groaned. Then, in one forceful thrust, he burried himself to the hilt in your tight, no longer virgin pussy.

"Fuck, I felt that. Were you waiting for uncle Bailey to pop your cherry, sweatheat?" He gave you no time to adjust, setting a desperate, needy pace from the get-go. You were crying fully now. The stretch of him hurt! It hurt and he was hurting you more by moving!

"Hu-u-urts!" You sobbed, encouraging Bailey to force your knees to your chest.

"Only for a little bit. It'll feel real good in a minute, treasure." Bailey nipped your lip before moving to take your nipple into his mouth. His lips sucked at the sensitive nub while his talented tongue flicked against the tip. He groaned against your soft skin when your pussy clamped down on his cock. His movement faltered for a beat or two before regaining his rhythm. He continued groping and teasing your chest until your sobbing became choked, unbidden moans. You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself quiet He felt your walls relax around him, making moving easier.

"Didn't I tell you, kitten? Fuck, you love this, don't you? Love having uncle Bailey's fat fucking cock wrecking your little pussy." You hated it. You hated him. He was right and it made the shame that much harder to bear. It didn't hurt anymore. The burning sensation from his cock felt good. It felt so good you wanted more. You felt so full, almost complete. Try as you might, he had you singing for him.

Bailey let go of your hands to force your knees to your chest, folding you in half and giving him easy access to a spot inside you that you'd never reached. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back into your head as he abused the sweet spot inside you. A tight, clenched sort of feeling began winding inside you. You found it hard to breathe suddenly, his name on your lips like a prayer.

"Fuck, yes, that's right. Fuck, you fucking love my cock." Bailey's pace increased, barely pulling out anymore before plunging back in; working the base of his cock and letting his heavy balls slap against your ass. He was ready to cum, but he refused to finish before you. A little denial never hurt him. He enjoyed it every now and then when he was getting himself off. Oh, but your tight little heat, absolutely dripping for him felt so much better than his hand. Far better than he imagined.

"Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna wake up and fuck you again in the morning." You arched your back orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. You cried out, incoherent as he continued to abuse your cunt; using your orgasm and the rythmic clenching of your pussy to get off.

"God! Fucking, yes! Gonna send you home with my cum gushing from your tight little pussy. Keep you coming back for- fuck!" Bailey's rhythm lost it's beat. He frantically fucked himself into you, desperate for his high.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Bailey, honest to god, moaned your name as he came. Pressed to the hilt inside you, he worked himself through his orgasm, prolonging it by grinding himself into you. The feeling of his pubic hair harshly rubbing against your clit pushed your over sensitive body to another high.

He didn't give either of you a chance to rest or recover. Flipping you over, he stared rolling his hips into you again. You whimpered and begged for a break, only for him to slap your ass, leaving an angry, red hand print, and laugh at you.

"Your body belongs to me now, and you're not going anywhere till I'm done with you, kitten." You whimpered as he pushed you down into the mattress, fucking his cum out of you as he prepared to fuck more into you.

Bailey never had much of a sex drive. He didn't know if it was from the abuse he suffered growing up, or if it was natural. Frankly, he didn't want to know. What he did know, was that it left him the a hell of a lot of stamina. You were in for a long night, and when you got home, you'd have to explain to your parents where your bruises came from, why you were walking like that, and why you needed to start visiting Bailey on the weekends.

In a couple of months, you'd have to explain to them why you have a bun in the oven.

(- anon 🚩 bad uncle Bailey takin it from noncon to dubcon gets me hrrrnnngggg.)

Bailey having a crush on both Eden and Pre-PC at the same time makes me think about them double teaming him after a night out drinking.

But also bad uncle Bailey breeding his sweet little niece, keeping her nice and dripping with cum at every chance is such a lovely image. Looking his best friend in the eye and telling him they had a wonderful time, he even took her somewhere to eat out!

Current-PC trying not to blush at the horrible puns Bailey makes about the various ways he's fucked her so Eden doesn't figure out what happened.

#🚩 anon #spill your guts #younger au #tw dubcon #tw noncon #Bailey the Caretaker #tw pseudocest

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incorrect-natshig · 3 years

Note

Do you have natshig fic recs? 👀

THIS IS MY NEW FAVOURITE ASK ANON TYSM💗💗✨

putting it under a cut bcs there's a whole lot more than you would've bargained for💖

The Blocked Hooligans by aphrodaisyacs (11.4k, single chapter) prequel

On January 24, Twitter users @diamond_dust404, @jackedfrost and @icespicebaby formed a group chat when they all got blocked by Endeavor’s official Twitter account. After nearly ten months of developing into a chaotic adoptive family of three, it all changes when Jacked Frost (Todoroki Natsuo) and Ice Spice (Todoroki Shouto) accidentally find out that they are brothers in real life. Clearly, the next step is to meet with their third member, right?

wii music by constellore (43k, 7/30 chapters)

If, five years ago, someone told Natsuo that not only was he going to find his long-lost older brother, but that he was also going to learn that his sister’s best friend was a villain, gain a sorta - kinda fake boyfriend in the leader of the League of Villains, and be partially responsible for the redemption of two of the most wanted men in Japan, he would have told them that they were nuts.

luminous things by cirriform (3k, single chapter)

Natsuo teaches Shigaraki how to fold paper cranes.

Bullet Wounds and Book Work by Mishafy (20.6k, ongoing)

Shigaraki Tomura, at Kurogiri's suggestion, joined a med school track to make up for the lack of a party healer. It just so happened that Todoroki Natsuo was taking the same online course.

The Todoroki In-Laws by aphrodaisyacs (30.6k, complete)

Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings. Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but honestly, where’s the fun in that? (chatfic)

Lingering by thyandra (2k, single chapter)

Natsuo sighed, closing the fridge door. He was so immersed in his pointless musings that he didn’t immediately hear the furious buzzing nearby, muffled by a pillow as it was. That is, until the thing fell to the floor—Shigaraki’s phone, Natsuo recognized once he glanced that way. He shouted a call of his name, but only got a muffled grumble back. Shigaraki was no doubt too absorbed in his game to give a fuck about his still buzzing device, and Natsuo- Natsuo hadn’t really meant to catch a glimpse of the screen. (Tomura has Natsuo as his lockscreen. Natsuo finds out.)

Caught Me at a Record Low by nocturnalgf (9.8k, ongoing)

It starts, as many things do, in a dirty alley. Shigaraki is dying, probably, until Natsuo comes to help him. And after that, Natsuo can't keep himself away.

Shigaraki Tomura’s Walkthrough to Infiltrating a University, Getting a Boyfriend, and More by JajaLala (73k, complete)

In order to recruit Dr. Ujiko Daruma, his Sensei's old doctor who fled after his arrest, Shigaraki must infiltrate the university the doctor is now working at. Problem is, even when he and some League members enroll as students, they discover it's almost impossible to meet the doctor unless you're enrolled in his advanced seminar. Fortunately, Shigaraki meets Natsuo, a premed in Dr. Ujiko's seminar, whose trust he must earn to meet the elusive doctor. However, the two of them might have more in common than Shigaraki expects...

Snow Day by Sensationalcrazyna (700 words, single chapter)

Shigaraki hates snow, but he'll go for his boyfriend.

The Todoroki Family is a Disaster™ by Tigers101 (2.7k, single chapter)

The Todoroki family is a disaster, and family dinner is even worse. Or, Fuyumi is going to lose her shit because she's apparently one of the only sane ones.

we will dream of the sea by crumbsfiction (3.6k, single chapter)

It’s a mechanism of self-defense, after all - trying so hard to be liked. If he can gain Tomura’s approval, if he can prove himself to this group, Natsuo will be fine. It will all have been worth it, dragging his name through the mud in search of a ghost. Besides, watching Tomura comes easily - in fact, Natsuo barely has to think about it at all.

Hoodie by MangoQueen (1k, single chapter)

Shigaraki gets cold and Natsuo offers for him to borrow a hoodie

Dear Tomura, I Hate You. Now Let's Play Some Video Games by IDealess_at_this (6.6k, ongoing)

Natsuo finds himself in the library after a terrible family dinner. However, after an unconventional meeting, he also finds himself being held hostage by the worst villain league ever. Getting revenge on his father while helping each member of the dysfunctional family through their struggles in the process doesn’t sound too bad!

and of course my beloved AUs💗

a coin to a crane by bittermoons (22k, 5/10 chapters)

Two ordinary (or so they think) high school students from Tokyo stumble upon another world through their dad’s dojo, leading to all sorts of bizarre consequences when they meet a cosplaying asshole of a kodama—a tree spirit—on the other side. Who knew useless video game knowledge and an unlimited cell phone data plan would come in so handy?

sugar and spice by bittermoons (4.7k, single chapter)

Shigaraki Tomura is a judge who hates soggy bottoms on The Great Japanese Bake-Off. Todoroki Natsuo is a stand-up comedian most famous on the web for making fun of his SO, who he calls 'Tanaka Taro' in all his routines. When Natsuo joins the crew of Bake-Off, online speculation explodes over his relationships with Shigaraki and Taro.

hazy days under august shade with you (it's all like magic to me) by constellore (8k, single chapter)

Natsuo is content living in the small village of Eadu, but when his brother becomes the victim of a curse, he's left scrambling for a way to undo it. Desperate for a cure, he manages to find the mysterious Magician of the Western Mountains—a man who raises far more questions than answers, especially when Natsuo finds himself volunteering to spend the summer in the mountains with him in order to aid him in breaking Touya's curse. Love had never been part of the equation, but between sweltering summer days and conversations in the dead of night, Natsuo can't say that he minds.

Love Comes Slow (and goes so fast) by Tigers101 (14.8k, single chapter)

"I’ve never been enough.” Natsuo's expression darkened. “I’ve always been the failure of a middle child, worthless and alone. I’ve never been anything to anyone." Tenko looked at him, his eyebrows creased in something close to anger. “Well, everyone else can go fuck themselves. You’re everything to me.” (natshig fantasy au + major character death)

Here Be Faeries by cafeanna (5k, single chapter)

“Terrible thing, terrible thing,” The burning man tusked and tisked. “Caught the eye of a Prince, gave a Name, and killed the King. Now he wears a crown of blooded amber and elk horn, and sleeps on a bed of thistle and roses. The King calls him frostbite, willow-boned, and beloved.”

Natsuo Todoroki walked into the woods at the beginning of summer and never came out. A month later, Fuyumi and Shouto are left in the aftermath of a missing person’s case and a growing fear of the place they grew up.

Know That You Love Me (even when I lose my head) by Tigers101 (1.5k, single chapter)

“I hate you.” Tenko grinned. “No, I really don’t think that’s the case. You wouldn’t have saved me from homework if that were the case.” (natshig roleswap au)

#fair warning but some of these are also dabihawks if that's not your cup of tea #feel free to add more!!<33 #i had to physically hold myself back from adding more hhh #this is long enough as it is #this gave me a good excuse to reread all my favourite fics💗#h2g i owe fanfic authors my life^^#thanks for the ask!!#not a quote #fic recs✨

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cellard0ors · 3 years

Text

Fic: Movement (2/?)

Still dedicated to the wonderful @peachworthy. you read part one than you know - GMM Rhink AU - College Student Link/Pornstar Rhett AU

“Got it right again, man! You’re going to ace this test!” Rhett crows as he tosses down another notecard and Link pumps his arms in triumph. The two of them are settled in the kitchen, piles of books and notecards spread around as well as few bottles of beers and some bowls of chips.

Link picks up one chip and pops it into his mouth, grinning at his roommate fondly, “Well, couldn’t’ve done it without you, pal. You are, without a doubt, the best study buddy I’ve ever had.”

“Aw shucks, gonna make me blush,” Rhett laughs even though it’s Link who feels his cheeks actually grow warm, his friend’s laughter a common cause of the occurrence.

They’ve been living together for over a month now and it’s been beyond amazing. Link would’ve never guessed a guy like Rhett and a guy like him would work so well together.

It’s like they’re the world’s weirdest, most convoluted puzzle yet all the pieces click together to form a full picture that is nothing short of a masterpiece. True, there’s a lot about Rhett Link doesn’t know yet (and gosh is there a lot he wants to know) but their friendship is running smoothly.

Well, smoothly save for the massive crush Link has on the guy, albeit he’s doing his damned best to squash it. Yes, Rhett’s attractive and yes, he’s the first guy Link’s ever met that he’s felt a real zing for, but the fact of the matter is – Link would much rather have him as a friend and roommate than lose him as a…well, Link’s not sure if he’d lose him, but the mere possibility keeps Link’s lips sealed.

Besides, it’s okay to crush on someone and never act on it. People do it all the time. Not to mention that it’s a bit…odd to crush on someone in Rhett’s line of work. Isn’t it?

Link can’t think of too many people who will admit to crushing on an adult film star. Regular, mainstream film stars, sure – but adult film stars?

Yeah…

Although, to be frank, Link’s sure there are some that do. And, hopefully, some of them are not the creepy internet troll-y kind of people, but genuine salt of the earth folks like himself. Because, okay, he is crushing on one so…

Rhett is toying with the cards, maybe looking for the next question to quiz Link on when he asks idly, “Y’know, Link – I gotta say, I admire your stamina.”

That remarks makes Link choke on the drink he’s just been consuming, a cough clearing it up some as he croaks, “I’m-I’m sorry?”

Rhett hums noncommittally, as if not noticing the gaffe, “You’ve had yet to grill me about my job. Normally, once folks hear about it, that’s all they want to talk about.”

“Oh,” Link breathes out loosely, “Well, ah-? It-? It just…seemed rude to-to ask…”

“Been over a month living with me now. You telling me you ain’t interested?”

“I didn’t say that!” Link quips back much quicker than he would like, but Rhett just gives him the most perfect smile. All sincere and warm beneath his beard and remember, Link, you’re doing you’re best not to crush on him!

Rhett is still toying with the cards, eyelashes downcast, the very visual definition of shy as he murmurs, “Just sayin’…I don’t mind if you wanna ask some stuff.”

Link’s eyebrows rise in such a way as to damn near bump his glasses off, “Y-You sure?”

Rhett draws in a deep inhale and then sits the cards down. He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, looking quite serious even despite the casual red flannel and jeans, as if this was more of an interview (or perhaps an interrogation?) than anything else, “Shoot.”

The a million and one questions that Link has kept at bay about Rhett’s job and more personal life threaten to cave his skull in as they crash about in his mind. However, he has to go with the obvious, “Know this’ll be predictable, but…why?”

Rhett just bobs his head in an understanding nod even as Link pushes on, “Why and how?”

Rhett sucks on his teeth before picking up his own beer and taking a fortifying sip before continuing, “The two are kinda interconnected to be honest. Had a fallin’ out with my family. Think I mentioned it in passin’ to you once. But, to clarify; they weren’t too happy with my chosen living destination nor with the fact that I’d come to terms with the notion that I’m attracted to both the ladies and the gents.”

Link’s mind immediately (and joyously) clings to ‘the gents’ remark, bookmarking it for future reference, even as Rhett continues his tale, “You grew up where we did. So you get it.”

Link does. And then, to nail the point home, Rhett adds, “Probably get it a lot more than others. If my…instincts are to be believed.”

Shit.

SHIT.

Link’s whole body immediately bursts into flame, the tips of his ears so hot he’s sure they’re glowing bright red.

Rhett knows I’m gay. He knows. I thought having a radar for that kind of thing was bullhonkey, but he knows and oh, lord, oh lord – do I give off some sorta vibe? I know that girl in my screenwriting class, Stevie, she teased me about being an A-Level twink or something, but I didn’t think-!

Rhett’s laughter carves right through Link’s insecurities, “Take a breath, brother! Look like you’re about to pop!”

Link does and Rhett just shakes his head, still grinning, “Point being – I was pretty much a babe in the woods when I came to LA. Not two nickels to my name, so I took whatever gigs I could get. Managed to snag a few commercials and things of that nature, but you know the drill. Jobs are hard to come by. And a guy of my height?”

He blows out a big breath and tosses all of those luxurious curls about with a rueful head shake, “Yeah, most people fingered me for a baller, so – again – jobs were hard to come by. But then, wouldn’t you know it? A friend of a friend of a contact told me about this part they thought I’d be perfect for.”

Another deep barrel chested chuckle emerges as he reminiscences, “Mighta been nice of ‘em to let me know it was actually a part of me they thought would be perfect.”

Do not zero in on his crotch! Do NOT zero in on his crotch! Charles Lincoln Neal the Third DO NOT-!

Link keeps his eyes so steadfastly forward he probably looks like some bug eyed zombie. If Rhett notices, he doesn't comment, “Anyway, when I found out what the role was, I had planned to politely decline but, y’know, the money they offered…”

There’s an easy shrug and this Link can look at. He looks at Rhett, who looks a bit sheepish as he scratches at one side of his beard, “I mean, again, you grew up where I did. So, you know how the whole ‘wait until marriage’ thing was drilled into your head, but I figured it wasn’t like anybody would know. My family’d cut me off, my friends were few and far in between, and the people on set…”

Now he looks a bit happier and Link can’t help but smile along with him, “The people on set were all right. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the kind of stories people tend to spin – the exploitation, the drug abuse, other questionable stuff…place I was at wasn’t like that. I mean, maybe I just lucked out or something, but it was…”

Another shrug and he goes for his beer again. Link figures this is as good a time as any to get in another question, “So, you did that and then you…? Just kept going?”

Rhett nods as he drinks, the bottle leaving his mouth with an obscene pop that Link is going to do his best to forget all about right now and certainly not recall at any point in the future (and most certainly NOT when he’s jacking off later), “Yeah, I did the one and the director really liked me. He pull me aside and told me about this company he was trying to set up with a couple of buddies of his. They wanted to go in a classier direction – know how funny that sounds, but he was serious.”

“So, what? No, like, blockbuster porno knock offs? Like ‘Sex in The City and ON the City’ or ‘Arma-get-it-on’?”

“Think you stole that last one from an episode of CSI.”

“I did, doesn’t change the question.”

They’re both smiling like a couple of fools, but the mood is good and the atmosphere light as Rhett sighs, “Yeah, nothing like that. I’ve actually worked with a few female directors, shot some things with great budgets, nice lighting, good costumes…”

“Oooo, costumes,” Link teases in the silliest voice and Rhett swats out at him. Link avoids the hit even as Rhett rolls his eyes, “I’m serious, dude. Some of the things that department pumps out looks better than anything you’d see in Hollywood.”

“Hmm, some kinda wood,” Link snickers and this time Rhett’s swat makes impact, brushing Link’s shoulder and Link would be embarrassed by the giggle he lets out, if it weren’t for the way Rhett’s nose is all scrunched up, making him look beyond adorable, “You’re sucha brat!”

Link sticks out his tongue and Rhett just laughs. They turn their attention to the drinks and chips for awhile before Link circles around to another question, “You like it then?”

“It’s a living,” Rhett confirms, not really answering one way or another, “Like I said – make great money, work with some really nice people.”

“Uh,” Link scratches behind one ear, “Hate to ask, but, um…clean people?”

Rhett doesn’t seem offended, “You bet. Have to be. Another reason I’ve done this as long as I have. Money's great, but the safety is even better. I’m currently under contract with that same company I told you about – the one that director brought me under. On top of wanting to,” he air quotes his next words, “be classier’-”

He drops the quotes, “They wanted to provide an excellent work environment. Heck, me and the other actors and actresses probably have a cleaner bill of health than the entire state. Can’t shoot scene one until you’ve got the A-Okay.”

“Huh,” Link absorbs that with some surprise, but then, he supposes it really shouldn’t be. The adult film industry is a big lumbering beast right alongside it’s more recognized counterpart. No reason one shouldn’t be as cautious as the other. If anything, one has more right to be cautious.

Thinking on this, Link suddenly feels an odd pang. It’s a shame in one way that’s one viewed as more reckless than the other, more questionable. But, when viewed through a mostly puritan lens…

Not wanting to get too philosophical, Link switches gears, “You been in a lot of films?”

“My fair share.”

Another dodge, but Link will let him have it. However, he can practically feel devil horns rise as he asks with a naughty gleam to his eye, “Win any awards?”

Rhett’s practically preening, “Several.”

“Really?” Link asks with some surprise, but Rhett suddenly looks quite naughty himself. Naughty and…a bit too hot for Link’s liking as the heat that always seems to surround him when he’s near Rhett rises and woo boy, he’s really failing at this squashing-the-crush thing.

“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll show you one of my trophies some time…”

Everything in Link melts into a puddle and he’s not sure what expression he’s wearing, but it’s one that makes Rhett’s whole face light up, “…or maybe, just maybe, I’ll show you a little somethin’ else…”

If it’s possible for a melted puddle to also explode, then Link’s just done it. Rhett bursts into guffaws as he reaches forward and, very smoothly, pushes Link’s jaw up because Link’s jaw? It dropped. He didn’t even feel it drop.

And then, to just add more fuel to the fire, Rhett rubs the pad of his thumb along the bottom of Link’s chin, right below his lip, “Damn, son…you’re just too much for words.”

“I…”

That’s it.

That’s all that Link can offer.

Just one sound, one vowel.

Silent and stunned and Rhett draws back, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he lets him go and rises up from his seat, “Think you need a moment. I’ll be back in a bit.”

And – just like that – Rhett saunters out of the room.

#rhink #randl #my writing #peachworthy #oh my sweet peach

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