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thatgoblin · 6 months

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Summary: Two Weeks in and you're finding a rhythm of sorts with your new Alphas, but it's not without bumps.

Warnings: Some mild gendered harassment, but nothing too terrible.

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It had been nearly two weeks since I’d come to live with John and Simon. In those two weeks we built a new routine around each other that had us dancing in sync as if we’d been living together for years. For them it might have been years, but throwing a new person into the mix would take time to get the rhythm going again with added steps. We were getting better each day though.

It was the Sunday after the end of the second week when someone in a U-Haul drove up to the house. John had been able to contact my parents and was able to arrange for my things to be delivered. While my relationship with John and Simon was better than at the start of all of this, my relationship with my parents had crashed and burned. I still had not heard from them, via call or text or email or even snail mail, and the two men who moved my stuff across the state were old schoolmates of mine, the Walker brothers, Logan and David.

Unfortunately.

“Well I’ll be damned,” David, the blockier of the two, crowed as he saw me when I came out of the house. “When your parents said you went off and found yourself a pair of Alphas, I thought they had made it up just to save face.”

“I mean, half the town did anyways,” Logan, the other man that sported a crew cut, said with a chuckle. “At least now we know it’s mostly true.”

“Just shut up and unload the stuff,” I said with a sigh. There couldn’t be that much, I didn’t have a whole lot to begin with. John and Simon were out with the cattle, leaving me alone to scrub the house. I had gotten up early and began to deep clean despite them telling me I didn’t need to. The house was kept in good shape, but there were cobwebs and the floors needed mopping, not to mention the windows. I wasn’t usually such a neat freak, but something came over me and the need to clean the place was too strong to control. Simon said something about anxiety, but I wasn’t willing to look at the feeling too close, just cleaning to ease it.

“So rude still,” Logan said with a snort. “Thought your new Alphas would have taught you how to speak to others.”

“I know how to speak to people who respect me,” I hissed as David unlocked the back of the truck. “Just take the boxes to the living room and then you can go.”

“Oh, come on,” David cooed. “We’re just playing. It’s been a while since we last saw you, figured you’d have grown more into your sex rather than away from it.”

“Yeah,” Logan said as he grabbed a box from the back. “Last time we saw you, you were the only Omega to graduate high school and get any sort of college. But that didn’t last from what I heard.”

“Didn’t you get kicked out of the community college for assaulting a teacher?” David asked, moving past me and into the house. “Yeah I think you did. Didn’t you slug him when he offered a ‘special’ tutoring session? Pretty sure they had to call security to pull you off him.”

“Such a mean Omega,” Logan added as he passed by as well. “I’m surprised anyone wanted you. Your parents probably had to pay someone to take you.”

“You are all the way across the state, so I bet they didn’t tell your Alphas about how nasty an Omega you are,” David said, coming out to leer at me.

“Just shut up and do your job. My parents didn’t pay you two needle dicks to jibber jabber like a couple of old bitties,” I snarled. My blood was boiling as I held back from throwing my fists at them. What the hell were my parents thinking in sending these assholes? Why couldn’t they have just sent a moving company? It wasn’t like I had furniture to move. Then again, my parents probably thought these two were cheaper and my resentment towards them grew.

“We’re not in school anymore,” David snapped, getting in my space. “You don’t get to get away with acting like an Alpha when you’re not one.”

“David, come on,” Logan said as he suddenly became nervous, glancing over his shoulder as I glared back at David, refusing to be cowed by him.

“You know, you ought to have someone teach you how to address your superiors,” David growled, getting in my space more and more. “Omegas shouldn’t talk back to those above them.”

“And Alphas shouldn’t have to threaten anyone to get respect,” I snarled, not moving an inch. “You’re just a shitty guy who only knows how to get attention by being an asshole to everyone around you.”

“David, come on dude,” Logan said, pulling the other Alpha away and to the truck. “Let’s just get this shit unloaded.”

“Fine,” David growled as I stayed on the porch, glaring at them. I had been the only Omega at a rural school system and if I hadn’t been as tough and mean as I had been with everyone then I would have gotten hurt or worse.

They finished moving the boxes as I saw John and Simon getting closer on horseback. I felt better knowing they were nearby with the other two still there.

“You know, you’re lucky you got out of town,” David said he stopped in front of me. “You could have gotten sold to me instead,” he sneered.

“Fuck off,” I snapped, my fists clenched and aching to swing on him. “I didn’t get sold to anyone.”

“That’s not what everyone in town is saying,” David said. “We heard you wouldn’t settle for anyone, that you were too wild. So your parents sold you to a couple of old Alphas to tame you. That they liked kinky things with Omega virgins.” Grabbing my wrist and pulling me close, he snickered in my ear as I struggled against him. He was all muscle from being on the football team back home to going straight into work at the mill tossing bags of feed.

“Get off,” I growled, pushing back against him. Fuck, even with the work I’d been doing on my own farm and with my Alphas’ the asshole was strong. “You’re gross and never going to find anyone to like you, you fuckin’ has been!”

“David!” Logan barked, trying to warn his brother, but it was too late.

“Hey!” Simon snarled as he and John came running to the porch. This giant Grim Reaper looking man with black eye makeup and skeleton gloves must have looked terrifying as Logan stumbled back and David dropped my wrist. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Simon didn’t even pause as he threw a punch, nailing David in the face. David was knocked on his ass, letting me go. While they all probably expected me to run and be comforted by my Alphas, I was trying to jump back on David. John had to catch me and pull me away as Simon dealt with them.

“John, let me go!” I cried.

“No, you’re going to hurt someone or yourself,” he grunted, holding me tight around the middle.

“I know you two were paid by her parents to deliver their stuff, but you can either get the fuck off of our property now or you’re going to wish you’d never taken this job,” Simon threatened, glaring at both the younger Alpha’s. David was holding a bloody nose and mouth as Logan looked on wide eyed. “Now!”

“Yes, sir!” Logan yelped as he grabbed David and all but ran to the truck.

“Fuck off!” I yelled, flipping them the bird again as Logan backed the truck up then drove off down the long dirt road.

“Love, calm down,” John said, finally letting me go. “You’re acting like a feral cat trying to fight everything.”

“You okay?” Simon asked, still tense and chest heaving from the adrenaline as he walked back over to us where we stood on the porch. He was frowning, even behind the mask I could tell, as he held out a hand to hover near me as he looked me over for any injuries. It was still giving me the space I needed while being concerned and showing it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said with a huff as I was let go, smoothing down my clothes. “Just pissed cause they started shit.”

“You know them?” John asked as he moved over to look at John’s fist.

“I went to school with them. They’re mad cause I never submitted to them or anyone, so they tried to start something when they thought no one was around,” I said, looking over to the Alphas’ as John carefully cradled Simon’s hand after taking his glove off. “Did you hurt yourself?” I asked, concerned as I got close to him as well, wanting to see the damage if there was any.

“It’ll take more than just a small swing to hurt me, Sweetheart,” Simon said with a chuckle. “So long as you’re fine.” He reached out, running a hand over my hair to smooth it down while also offering comfort, but I ducked away. I wasn’t ready for that much affection yet. The most we did was pat each other on the back and grooming or cuddling them at night when we slept, but that was it.

“I’m good. I’m gonna go unpack my stuff in my room,” I said. “Thanks for the assist.” I didn’t want a discussion over what happened or about me ducking away. Not giving them the time to call after me, I instead walked into the house to begin moving my boxes. There were almost ten boxes, but they were all mostly full of books and art supplies. I had a desk in my room where I could set up a drawing corner, but I’d have to either see about building shelves or buying them. The down side, well one of many, of being an Omega was that I didn’t really earn any money. It had all been through my dad’s name or in my new case through John and Simon’s name.

I’d have to ask them for the money to do it, but I wouldn’t. There would be a way to figure it out and it would just take time. So the books would just have to stay in the boxes stacked against the wall. Some of the boxes were clothes that I actually needed, like my coats and thicker pants and shirts. The rest of the boxes were just stuff that I didn’t even realize I had, like little knick knacks and trinkets I had made or collected over the years. John and Simon did help carry the boxes up the stairs, but I wanted to unpack them alone. It was my stuff and with having my own room, even if I didn’t sleep in it, I wanted to put things up my way. They let me be while they went outside, respecting my wishes.

What I hadn’t planned on was getting choked up from the items I found that were packed in one particular box. It had to have been a mistake, an accidental box put onto the truck. The last box I looked into held things I had made for my parents in school. Small clay bowls, drawings in frames, certificates of achievement. Why did they send these? Why not keep them and hang them up like they had been when I lived there? I made these for them. I wanted them to have them, to show off and be proud of what I achieved. Why give them back?

A small paper cow, something small insignificant, was the straw on the camel’s back. While John and Simon were outside with the horses or working in the garden, I was in my room, crying over a paper cow I had made for my dad on Father’s day when I was 6. I had wanted to be a rancher just like him, to take over the ranch for him, but. . . I wasn’t what he wanted. I wasn’t what either of my parents wanted.

I threw the cow onto the ground, stomping on it as tears fell down my face, cursing my parents. When I saw the cow had torn, I stopped in a panic.

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, picking it up. It fit in my palm, but after the stomping it was crumbled and dirty with the head hanging on by a sliver of paper. “Fuck, why do I ruin things?”

“You don’t.” I looked up from hovering over the paper animal cradled in my hands to see John standing there with a furrowed brow. “You don’t ruin things.” Coming into the room, he looked at the paper cow before taking it gently from my hand. At my desk, he found tape to carefully wrap it up and fix it. “Here,” he said as he handed it back.

“If I don’t ruin things, why did they leave me?” I asked softly, looking down at the cow back in my hands. Sitting on the bed, I kept my bleary vision on the paper in my hand. If I looked up at John I’d start sobbing. “They didn’t want me anymore because there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s not a thing wrong with you, Darling,” John said, sitting right next to me, pushing our shoulders together. “They just don’t know how to treat someone like you.”

“Someone like me? Who am I like!? Some freak of nature that doesn’t know how to act like the right gender!?” I cried as I stood up, shirking away from the touch before putting the cow on the desk safely away from my angry boots. “Someone who doesn’t know how to be a good mate?! Or-or someone who doesn’t know how to be a normal person!?”

“Hey,” John said softly, standing with me. “Shhh,” he hushed me, putting a hand on my shoulder and one on my face to force me to look at him. “What I mean is that they didn’t know how to treat someone who always had to be hard on the outside. You weren’t treated right by that place or them and they didn’t realize it or want to realize it. That’s their fault, not yours.”

“No one wants me though, not for the right reasons,” I said, breaking down into the sobs I had been trying to avoid. “They had to pay for you to take me!”

“They didn’t pay us,” John said, stroking my hair as he pulled me close. “They didn’t pay us a cent to take you. I promise. We wanted you because of who you are, not what you are.” I clung to John, gripping his shirt tight as I buried my face into his chest with heaving sobs. He didn’t leave or try to push me away, only held me and stroked my hair while whispering reassurances to me like I was Ollie after a long ride. While I probably would have been upset that he was using his horse voice on me if I was more aware, at that moment I appreciated it. I didn’t get that from my parents, the comforting touches as I cried over mean kids from school or a skinned knee from climbing trees.

The affection and love that I should have gotten from them was given to me by Simon and John, even if it was only small touches and soft words. I didn’t know how to deal with it as it was so foreign to me. By the time that I had calmed down enough to hiccups with red, puffy eyes, Simon had come in from the garden and it was lunch time. John had me lay down with a cool, wet cloth over my face as he and Simon went about getting food for themselves. I imagined John explained what had happened because after I calmed down and felt more at ease, I was back to deep cleaning and rearranging. Simon came back in to give me a shoulder squeeze and tell me I was doing a good job, that he was proud of me.

I started crying again at that, earning a panicked look from Simon. He quickly apologized and left, leaving me with my need to clean still there but more weepy. Finished with the house deep cleaning, supper was ready. John had made pizza from scratch and made sure to clean up as best he could as I had finished the kitchen earlier in the day. Showered first that night, I made sure the two men gave me their dirty clothes so I could get them in with the rest of the laundry later.

When it was time to settle down for the night, in our usual spots on the couch in front of the TV, the Alphas took their usual spots while I surprised them. Instead of going to the floor next to Simon’s feet, I curled up against John on the couch, sitting between the two. Both looked at me wide eyed as I pressed to his side, even raising his arm myself to wrap around me. They didn’t say anything though, knowing I’d most likely growl and pull away.

Maybe John was right. I was a feral cat.

“Can we go to town tomorrow?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the TV. “I wanna get some shelves for my books or to get stuff to make shelves.” Also something new. I didn’t ask for anything. I didn’t take anything either. Unless I needed it, I didn’t bring it up.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, Sweetheart,” John said as he rubbed my legs, his hand having found its way there. “What time do you wanna go?”

“After morning chores,” I said, looking at the two Alphas. “I can do some extra work to pay for them, if you want me to.”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” John said with a chuckle. “You want shelves, we’ll get you all the shelves you want.” He reached out again, like earlier in the day, to stroke my hair. This time I didn’t pull away. I leaned into it even, practically purring. The rest of the night was spent like that. Curled up against one another till it was time for bed, only moving to continue holding one another under the covers.

The next morning, I was thrumming with excitement. While John and Simon went about their normal speeds of getting up and having their coffee, I was already dressed and making breakfast. They didn’t hide the smiles on their faces as they watched me buzz around like a hummingbird. It was the first time I’d been excited for something since I’d arrived at the ranch. For shelves no less.

When morning chores were done and everyone had washed up, I was already in the big pick up truck waiting. “Come on, boys! We’re burning daylight!” I called, giving a few honks.

“It’s 9 AM! We’ve got plenty of time to go by the store,” John called back from the porch as Simon laughed.

“You don’t know that! There could be a major shortage of shelves!” I said as they walked over. John shooed me to the middle as he got in the driver’s seat and Simon got in the passenger side. It would also be my first trip to town. All I knew of it was that it was small like my hometown and was probably almost the same, just in a different configuration. The drive there wasn’t short, almost half an hour, but it didn’t kill my mood. In fact, I was still bouncing in my seat as John parked in front of a small furniture store.

“Now, just keep calm and hold one of our hands at all times,” John said as he helped me from the truck.

“Wait what?” I asked. The calm part I could get, but holding a hand?

“They’re older folks and it’s just easier to let them die with their ways instead of fighting with them,” Simon said, his gloved fingers weaving with mine as he stepped next to me. “We’ll get your shelves, don’t worry about that.”

“Okay. . . I guess,” I said. Holding Simon’s hand, we walked into the store to begin looking around. It was full of nice things, maybe a bit dated, but nice. I didn’t want anything too heavy or too expensive, just something to hold books.

“Howdy folks! What can I do ya for?” An older man asked, seemingly coming from nowhere. It spooked me enough I ran into Simon when the balding man spoke up. Simon chuckled softly, keeping me on my feet and from crashing into anything else.

“Hello,” John said with a wave. “We’re looking for a couple of shelves.”

“Three sets,” I said, but didn’t get too excited. I was actually trying to listen to John.

“What the little lady said, three sets of shelves,” John said, chuckling.

“I am a little lady,” I said under my breath with a smirk, getting a snort from Simon.

“Well come on over here, we’ve got all kinds of shelves to pick from. You folks have anything in mind?” The salesman asked. “I’m Bill, by the way, pleasure to meet you all.”

“Pleasure,” John said as we followed, introducing us. “What kind of shelves are we looking for, Sweetheart?”

“We are looking for shelves to hold books and knick knacks,” I said. “Nothing fancy, just the capacity to hold things and not break.”

“Alright, it sounds like the little lady knows what she wants,” Bill said with a laugh.

“That she does,” John said, smiling softly at me.

“Here we have some nice ones that come in a dark finish. They’re solid oak, not particle board so they’ll be good to hand down through the generations,” Bill said as he showed us the first set. Then there was another set almost exactly like that one, just in a different shade. In fact all the shelves he showed us were basically the same thing, just in a different shade. Looking at the prices I couldn’t help making the faces I did. I looked from the price tag to John and Simon with wide eyes. $500 a piece.

“Uh, do you have anything cheaper?” I asked, looking over to Bill. He glanced at me, but kept his focus on John and Simon.

“You gentlemen wanna look at something cheaper or stick with something that’s a sure thing?” Bill asked. Did he just ignore me?! Simon squeezed my hand to remind me to stay calm. We were in town and fighting with a sales person was not something to end well. I grasped his hand with both of mine to keep myself in control.

“Let’s look at something cheaper. She wasn't wanting to drop $1,500 on shelves today and I don’t blame her,” John said.

“Oh I’m sure we can find something that y’all would like,” Bill said, taking us to a different section of the store. There we found cheaper shelves to put up, but they weren’t exactly what I wanted. They were still expensive for what they were and I just couldn’t justify spending so much money on them when I wasn’t even the one paying for them.

“I don’t really see anything I like,” I said, trying to be as polite as possible as I looked over each shelf. “Maybe we can try a different place.”

“Oh, hold on now,” Bill said with a chuckle. “I’m sure that me and your mates could come to a decision for ya on price. I mean, you don’t want some simple shelving units that’ll fall apart in a few months if you decide to redecorate the house.”

“It’s not for the house, it’s for my room,” I said, locking a glare on Bill. “They’re not my mates either.”

“Let’s just go,” Simon said quietly, already smelling the distinct scent of me getting riled up. He was trying to usher us away, but Bill had to open his mouth.

“You oughta keep your Omega in line there,” Bill said to John, shaking his head as Simon tried to pull me away by my hand. “They need to be taught to be more respectful.”

“What’d you say!?” I cried, letting go of Simon to turn on my heel to face a suddenly surprised Bill. “You wanna talk about respect, actually listen to your customers no matter who they are, ya walking Rogaine Ad looking ass!” I snarled. Simon already wrapped an arm around my middle to drag me away as John followed, both looking panicked. Whether it was over getting kicked out of the store or me unleashing my wrath or both, they wanted out of there.

“Why don’t you boys come back without them and I’m sure we could work something out without a hormonal Omega actin’ up,” Bill said. That made them pause. The men looked at each other then to me as I practically frothed at the mouth.

“Better watch out, Bill,” Simon said, letting me go with a smirk. “She’s feral.” That was all the permission I needed before I marched right up to Bill who went white as a sheet.

“You wanna act like I don’t exist or have feelings, fine! But you don’t get to publicly shame me because of my gender, got it Bill!” I snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You’re just a snub nose asshat that’s more concerned about what’s in someone’s pants than actually getting a sale and you have the balls to get huffy at me for calling you out on it!? Maybe there’d be more people in here if you didn’t over-price your 1950’s shabby decor and act like a pias jackwagon by alienating your customers! Next time you see me, you better act like a decent person instead of some bigoted, capitalist pig that doesn’t care about anybody but himself, ya hear!?” Bill was silent as I had backed him in a literal corner of one of his sectionals with my ‘Omega hormones’.

“Yes, of course,” he said, nodding and shaking.

“Good, now we’ll take the dark stained oak shelves for $200 a piece. That’s more than what they’re worth,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me as Simon and John moved to stand behind me.

“Of course, right away,” Bill nodded. I stepped to the side to let him pass, not paying mind to anyone else in the store who was watching. Not that there were many to begin with. I marched with my men behind me to the register where John handed over the money with a smirk on his face. In a matter of 20 minutes we were loaded up and headed home. While neither John nor Simon said a word, I felt pleased with myself.

At home, we unloaded the shelves and hauled them to my room. Once they were set up, I let them help me unpack the last of my boxes. Books and sketch pads all fit perfectly how I wanted them to and even had some help with Simon setting things on the tippy top as well.

Finished, we stepped back to admire our work. I couldn’t stop grinning as I stood there next to the Alphas, all of us hot and sweaty from the moving of the large shelves, but satisfied. I did that. I didn’t compromise who I was or what I could do and I got what I wanted. The boys probably got what they wanted too, which I knew was not the shelves. My arms wound around their waists to pull them close for hugs; allowing me to scent them slightly to claim them as my own. They were my pack and I was theirs.

John was the first to scent me back, rubbing his cheek against my head followed by Simon. I didn’t pull away either. It was the first time in a long time that I felt lighter. That instead of heaving my own baggage along with others’ doubts, stereotypes, and sexism alone, I had help. I had my pack. An honest to god pack of my own that no one could take from me.

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 8 months

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Hey so idk if you would know this but where did the term canyon in reference to Izzy fans come from? I feel like I just started seeing it like three days ago but everyone seems to already know what it means

lol so disclaimer that this ask has been in my inbox since september 23rd and alsoooo i might not be the best person to ask bc i am belothed by many who consider themselves part of the izzy canyon (which is their right). so if you asked an izzy fan about this you would probably get a different answer. also from what i can tell the term originated on twitter and i don’t go there.

the tl;dr that i heard secondhand from someone who identifies as izzy canyon is that at some point last year (summer or fall-ish i think) a lot of izzy fans were blocking so many people who didn’t like izzy that a lot of them ended up being unaware of general fandom trends and it became a running joke among them that izzy fans were isolated from the rest of the fandom in an "izzy canyon." and then allegedly the term expanded to just mean "if ur not a dick abt ppl liking izzy u can be in the canyon." THAT BEING SAID there are other ppl who had a very different experience with how "the canyon" originated and what kind of fan space it tends to be.

(slightly longer explanation below)

the thing with The Canyon is that to understand its origin and also why some fans have a problem with it, you gotta know two things:

there are annoying puriteen anti types on the internet who think liking certain characters make you a bad person. from what i can tell theyre mostly on twitter and tiktok. these people are annoying but also in my experience they're usually pretty easy to block and ignore.

the popularity of izzy hands is disproportionate to his narrative role in the show, and the popular fanon interpretation of izzy hands casts him not only as a principal character but as a much more sympathetic, righteous character than he is in canon. THIS DOES NOT MEAN I THINK ANYONE IS A BAD PERSON FOR LIKING IZZY. this DOES mean that i think ppl who think ed is izzy's domestic abuser are wrong. and also this is part of an age old fandom trend of fandom favoring a masc white guy who is often a side character and also often an antagonist.

so from what i can tell. in the early days of the ofmd fandom (spring-summer 2022) there was a lot of #1 going around on twitter, screaming about how if you liked izzy hands then you're a racist abuse apologist or something. at one point a throwaway account tweeted a callout for a popular izzy fan and said "we know they live in this area and work for this company, so these are the locations where they might work. everyone should call these numbers and tell their job to fire them. also we're gonna target these izzy fans next" and like, obviously this account was pretty quickly taken down. but it was a pretty scary thing and left a lot of izzy fans pretty paranoid, hence the blocking everyone who didnt like izzy.

(there was also a "izzy hater group chat" twitter account that was literally just a small group of mostly minors posting memes and also abt izzy that got accused of being connected to that whole mess. but afaict those guys have nothing to do with harassment of izzy fans they just dont like izzy)

so the thing is now that all of that has been used to justify shutting down any type of conversation about #2, or writing off anyone who posts meta about izzy that isnt like, "he works so hard and is so unappreciated despite everything he's done for ed" as an "izzy anti." analyzing izzy critically and posting this in the #izzy hands tag on tumblr is likened to genuine harassment.

oh lol and speaking of harrasment: there was also a problem with ppl on tumblr getting anon hate, and izzy fans will tell you that the anon came from an izzy hater who was targeting izzy fans bc the anon messages use "izzy critical rhetoric." however as someone who has posted "izzy critical" metas or whatever, i have actually gotten the same harassing messages accusing me of being an izzy stan and a racist abuse apologist. that's not what a targeted harassment campaign looks like. that's all been less of a problem ever since tumblr made it so you need to be logged in to an account to send anonymous messages.

anyway my stance on all of this:

i don't hate anyone for liking izzy. i am critical of certain comments/behaviors i often see from ppl who identify as izzy fans, but izzy fans are rarely the only ones who have this problem. from what i've seen tho, a lot of it comes from izzy fans.

before i ever saw even a hint of harassment against izzy fans, i saw izzy fans coming onto my posts and to posts by fans of color trying to argue that these posts were contributing to their harassment. from my perspective, it looked a lot like fans of a white character were trying to shut down conversations abt their favorite guy, especially when those conversations were being had by fans of color. i was very skeptical and oftentimes pretty dismissive abt the existence of this harassment.

since then tho ive done a pretty deep dive into the anon harassment on tumblr, and also looked at takes from different perspectives on the whole thing, and my conclusion is that there is harassment of izzy fans, however it is on the same base-level shittiness that most people experience from just... being on the internet. death threats and insults and slurs are literally just part of being on the internet. and yes, it SUCKS and it's wrong and nobody should have to put up with it, but izzy fans are not victims of specific targeted harassment. theyre victims of being on the internet and having to put up with general internet shittiness. and im sympathetic to that up until ppl start using "ive been harassed for being an izzy fan" as an excuse to be incredibly nasty (check out this tumblr acct for examples of what i mean lol). the ofmd fandom is annoying and parts of it are toxic but like, by no means is this the most toxic fandom to ever exist. we're not at "undertale fan giving out cookies with needles in them at a convention" levels just yet.

finally, tangentially related: i am inherently wary of fandom sub-groups that like, name themselves?? in my experience, the more people make being a Type Of Fan part of their identity the more it tends to lead to problems. this goes for fans who label themselves "antis" or "anti-antis" or whatever the fuck. i've personally been called an "izzy anti," an "izzy hater," and an "izzy critical fan" but like, i dont really call myself that?? it just seems weird to me idk. it gets to be very "us vs them" on default with little nuance and ive never found this kind of thing to be like, productive in fandom spaces. but that's just me.

#ask #anon #mine #txt #link #og

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taintedevesayori · 2 months

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Sayo's Route: Ecstasy 07

Sayo's Route Masterlist

-Reiji is in the living room of the Sakamaki mansion. He is seated on a chair, trying to stop his foot from tapping on the ground due to his impatience. Shu is lying on the couch opposite of him. Sensing his brother’s growing aggravation, he opens one eye to look at him

Shu: Sayo isn’t back yet?

Reiji: …No.

Shu: How long has it been?

Reiji: It is evening. She did not come home after school yesterday.

Shu: …She’s with those guys, right…?

Reiji: I can only assume so.

Shu: Has anyone tried to get her?

Reiji: Laito and Ayato wanted to, but I wanted to give her the opportunity to return on her own. She has never been gone this long, however. If she does not return within the hour, I will be retrieving her myself.

Shu: I see…

-Shu shuts his eyes once more, intending to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, Reiji hears the front door open. He immediately stands, heading for the entrance hall. Sayo is heading for the stairs. He is about to lecture her, but is struck silent when something catches his eye. There is a ring on her finger that he is sure was not there during school the day before

(Reiji: That is not a good sign…I have to do something about this…)

Monologue

Nobody ended up coming to get me from the Mukami manor. I returned to the Sakamaki mansion that evening, ready for a lecture from Reiji and angry comments from everyone else. As expected, Reiji was the first to see me as I was about to head upstairs to my room.

Reiji: Sayo.

-She turns to face him

Sayo: I know I’m home late. I should have told you I wouldn’t be back.

Reiji: …Forget about that for now. There’s some place I would like you to accompany me to. Put your things away and then come down to the living room so we can go.

(He’s…not going to lecture me…? He said for now, so does that mean he will later? Either way…where does he want to go?)

Sayo: Uh…alright. I’ll be right back then.

-She goes upstairs to her room, putting her school bag away before heading back down to the living room. He is sitting in the same chair as earlier, waiting for her

Reiji: Are you ready to go?

Sayo: Yeah.

Reiji: Then let us be off.

-He stands, leading the way back to the entrance. She finds herself sitting alone with him in the limo as the driver takes them to their destination

Sayo: So where are we going…?

Reiji: You will see when we get there.

Sayo: You know I don’t really like surprises…

Reiji: Fufu…You are in no position to complain after the stunt you pulled.

(Yikes…He’s got me there…)

Sayo: …Sorry.

Reiji: You can apologize all you’d like, but it doesn’t mean anything if you continue your behavior.

Sayo: Next time I’ll tell you then.

Reiji: I would prefer it if you didn’t repeat this instead.

Sayo: I can’t promise that…

Reiji: Haah…Of course you can’t.

*Timeskip*

-When the two step out of the limo, Reiji leads her into a cafe

Sayo: Hm? This wasn’t what I expected…

Reiji: I wanted a change of pace. I thought it might be nice to go out for a change instead of staying in the mansion as we usually do.

Sayo: Not a bad idea.

-The two order before finding a table

Sayo: Thanks for bringing me along.

Reiji: There’s no one else I would bring. The others are all annoyances. You are the only one whose company I can enjoy like this.

Sayo: Fufu…I’m flattered, Reiji. I certainly can’t relax and enjoy a cup of tea like this with any of the others either.

Reiji: …I know this whole situation with the Mukamis hasn’t been a pleasant experience. Laito failed as your guardian, and because of this, you fell into Kou’s hands. I should have stepped in sooner, but I wanted to give him the chance to prove he could succeed for once.

-He pauses for a moment

Reiji: …At least, I wish I could say that was my only reasoning. I admit that I have felt a bit spiteful that you did not choose me when they first targeted you, forcing us to draw lots. I let Laito continue his harassment because you could have chosen me and avoided this entirely…

-Sayo can only stare in shock

Sayo: Reiji…

-He suddenly reaches out and grabs her hand, staring at the ring on her finger

Reiji: Kou gave this to you, did he not?

Sayo: …Yes.

Reiji: Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?

(If he’s focused on the ring…there’s probably only one thing he means…but this is a conversation I really don’t want to have…)

Sayo: Forgotten what…?

Reiji: The day I proclaimed I am going to be my father’s successor.

Sayo: …I remember.

Reiji: You were chosen as a sacrificial bride. That is why you are living with us. I still intend on making you my bride. If Kou or any of his brothers get in the way of that, we will put an end to them.

Sayo: Reiji…! That’s going too far!

Reiji: Does he know?

Sayo: Know what?

-Reiji suddenly smirks

Reiji: That it isn’t just Laito he has to compete with. Laito is a jealous fool that is simply obsessed with possessing you without wanting to admit why he feels that way. He may lash out with reckless abandon if Kou tries to take you. I’m sure Kou has figured that much out by now. But does he know about our history?

Sayo: …!

Reiji: Fufu…I’ll take that as a no.

*Flashback*

Kou: So I was your first kiss, right~?

Sayo: …!

Kou: Hm…? I wasn’t? Don’t tell me it was Laito-kun?

Sayo: No, of course not. He’s forced a kiss on me, but he got slapped for that. And that wasn’t my first kiss…

Kou: Then who was it?

Sayo: Just a silly crush from my old school. It was a while back and nothing came of it.

(Of course he doesn’t know…How could I tell him…? It would have only made things more complicated…)

Reiji: Shortly after I declared I would make you my wife…surely you remember what happened?

-She glances away, the guilty look on her face confirming it

*Flashback*

-Reiji has Sayo in his arms. He has just finished drinking from her neck

Reiji: Fufu…This is new. Why do you look so embarrassed?

Sayo: You’re too close…Do you really have to hold me so tightly?

Reiji: I didn’t realize it was a problem for you. In that case, I think I’ll hold you even tighter.

Sayo: Haah…Of course you will…

Rejii: Don’t sound so displeased. Why don’t I give you something you’ll enjoy?

*kiss*

Sayo: …! R-Reiji! W-What?!

Reiji: Fufu…How cute. Shall I give you more?

Sayo: Don’t you dare-!

*kiss*

Sayo: Mm!

Reiji: You were so flustered you wanted to pretend it never happened…And shortly after, the Mukamis showed up and you got your wish. Laito became your guardian and took up most of your attention. And now Kou is trying to steal you away. Does he know that you’re going to be my wife? Does he know that your fiance has kissed you? That ring on your finger means nothing. He isn’t the one who gets to spend eternity with you.

Sayo: You can’t phrase it like that…! You aren’t my fiance, Reiji! That hasn’t been decided! I’ve said from the beginning that whatever your father says, I don’t plan on marrying any of you.

Reiji: You are delusional to think you have a say in it, Sayori. You were brought to us in order to marry one of us. That is your place. It is ridiculous that you are trying to fight it like this. I’ve let this go on for far too long. Break off your relationship with Kou. I don’t want you seeing him again. I’ll tell Laito that I will be taking over as your guardian. When this school year ends, I will be graduating. I see no point wasting time in succeeding my father, so I shall make plans for our wedding.

-Sayo slams her hands down on the table as she stands

Sayo: Reiji, I may like you and Subaru the best out of your brothers, but right now you are being ridiculous…!

-She turns, running off down the sidewalk

Monologue

As I ran through town, thoughts continued to swirl around in my head. I had been fooling myself, thinking I could forget about what had happened between Reiji and I before the Mukami brothers showed up. If Reiji spilled everything to Kou, I’m sure he would be pissed that I hadn’t told him before now… I just had to hope that wouldn’t happen.

-To be continued

#diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers #sayori makina #reiji sakamaki #shu sakamaki #diabolik lovers fanfiction #sayo's route #kou mukami

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hightailinghazel · 1 year

Text

Alright. Interview with a voice actor from “Hightailing Hazel”, Trevor Cane. Trevor Cane worked as a voice actor for the character, Bus Driver, as well as smaller background characters. Here’s the transcript. Please don’t mind any spelling errors. I tried to make it as professional as possible.

Interview with Trevor Cane, March 1, 2023, 3.45 PM.

N: Ok so I’m online. Sorry I’ve never done this before.

T: Ok.

N: And I had to download this app, I don’t use this to talk to people usually.

T: Ok.

N: Ok. Ok! Ok, So, Ok, So you’re good?

T: I’m here.

N: Yea, yea ok so. Ok.

T: You can start anytime. N: So, I’m Nathan. You know me already of course. Can you introduce yourself?

T: Trevor Cane.

N: You’re a professional voice actor right?

T: Semi.

N: Right. What does that mean?

T: Semi means sometimes.

N: Course. Ok so, purpose of this. So as you know I’m running a blog archiving the abandoned project, “Hightailing Hazel.”

T: Yea I know.

N: Reasoning behind simply I’ve never seen it anywhere else online before. SO, I’m trying to sort of gather ever

T: Gonna stop you right there Nathan.

N: Ok?

T: Lemme just get the basic shit over with.

N: What do

T: Hightailing Hazel, was a half baked idea between two families who apparently had nothing better to do. They hired me, some artists, some other voice actors, and got as close to animating some episodes before the whole thing blew up, and they buried that shit. I’m sure they didn’t expect some random guy online to harass washed up voice actors about it.

N: I…Ok. Uhm, yea! Ok. Two families?

T: Yes those are the words I said out-loud yes. Good job repeating them.

N: So who hired you-who were the families?

T: You don’t need names.

N: Right! Well I do because I

T: Because your archiving. Ok.

N: yes.

N: So it was two families? Did they run… a uh. Media company, or a studio at all?

T: Two or three of them were artists and parents so they thought they had the key to instant mind numbing cartoon success. They didn't.

N: No company.

T: No. Though I’m sure they were business majors. They had a studio. That’s where we worked. Pretty ok place. Small.

N: Why do you say half baked?

T: They went about it with so much chaos I’m surprised they were able to organize it into your little cd at all.

N: Well it really isn’t organized.

T: Ok.

N: Ok. So. So…I have some uh. Question suggestions from some of my followers.

T: Still trying to follow a script huh.

N: Can you tell me what the recruiting process was like?

T: Uh Ok. I was recruited in 2009. The guy who first interviewed me told me they were looking for up and coming voice actors ready to “start their careers with something small but memorable.” I read some lines, they called me back a week later. I met their “crew”. They were adamant on us getting along and acting like a family. I met most of the two families. I met some other voice actors. I met some artists. Before this I’ve only done commercial work or indie work so. I didn’t really know how this shit worked.

N: Did you meet Liam Hahns?

T: What.

N: The uhm artists and I believe character designer.

T: Yes. He was more than that. He was one of the creators of the show itself.

N: Oh?

T: Yes.

N: Who all..created this show in the first place?

T: Show. Hah. Well Liam. His brother. His friend.

N: uhm. And their names?

T: No.

N: Uhm. Ok uhm. What about the other voice actors?

T: All hired either right outta school or found buried in some website hopelessly offering their services. They hired all fresh staff. Brand new artists and animators and voice actors.

N: And writers?

T: No writers. They handled all the writing. Scripts summaries plot storylines. Whatever.

N: This all sounds very odd and unprofessional.

T: Oh yea? Really?

N: Still I do like the end product.

T: Because you didn’t see what went in it. You didn’t see the sausage casing being rolled up.

N: What?

T: It’s an expression.

N: I don't think it is?

T: It is.

N: I’ve never heard of it before?

T: Ok.

N: …You played the character uh, just called Bus driver right?

T: Yes. They wanted me to voice some other background characters as well. Two line type characters. No titles.

N: And-but uh, Bus driver, you wanted him to be named after you?

T: Well Trevor is a lot fucking better than just bus driver isn’t it. They had a weird thing about names. And this was 14 years ago, I just wanted this one off character have more of me inside him. He was the main character of the episode. Besides the dog and cat.

N: Did you have any say on the script, or character at all?

T: No. And No Ad-libbing either. They were very strict when it came to the script.

N: How did you get along with the other crew?

T: Ok.

N: Uh?

T: Yea like ok. We were fine.

N: are you still in contact with anyone from the project?

T: No.

N: How’s that?

T: Ok. Here’s the deal Nathan. Stop posting on your blog. Stop trying to fucking bother people over some failed old show. And for god’s sake don’t post peoples fucking emails on youtube.

N: I really didn’t uh.

T: You're only going to find shit you don’t want to learn. Leave this shit buried. I’m serious. Theres nothing about this that matters enough to be talked about.

N: How could you say that? People put real work into this-including you. Real artists, animators, designers. Voice actors. Obviously I know know anything about these families, and you wont tell me much, but this is still a real passion filled project that is lost to time. I think the work at least deserves to be admired, or learned from, just known about at all. Art deserves to be seen.

T: And people deserve to be left the fuck alone. This show was meant for fucking ten year olds anyway why are you so interested in it.

N: It is still art. And its creative. And [unintelligible]-it’s-and it’s cute.

T: You sound like Natalie.

N: Natalie I recognize that name. I assume she was a character designer or artist?

T: You know I try not to think about the beginning of my career. I took a lot of stupid pointless jobs that didn’t pay enough, didn’t matter, didn’t further my career. Hightailing Hazel paid me enough. That is all I can say about it.

N: Ok,

T: Find a different hobby buddy, ok?

N: So-

T: I voiced one character, once. I got paid. I left. Ok?

N: Ok.

T: Ok. So we good?

N: I guess so.

T: Great interview. Don’t contact me again.

End of interview, Trevor Cane logged out immediately after.

___

My notes:

none at this time. Sorry.

#hightailing hazel

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 1 year

Text

game over

In the wake of the worst end, Aubrey & Kel confront their regrets.

When Aubrey gets home from work, she finds Basil stretched out across her bed.

“Aubrey, Aubrey, Aubrey!!!” he gasps, flitting to his feet. Like it’s some huge surprise, finding her in her own apartment. “I’ve been waiting!!!”

She doesn’t answer.

…What? It’s not mean. It’s not like he can actually hear her.

Aubrey isn’t crazy, okay? She knows he isn’t real. He's just some stupid memory that her stupid brain spat out after all the guilt and shame finally shoved her off the deep end. There’s no such thing as ghosts. If there was, she wouldn't have had to miss Mari so much, and none of this awful shit would even have happened.

He’s not even a very convincing daydream. Even if Basil wasn’t dead, it’s been years since he looked at her like that. His whole face shining with hope and adoration. Like she was—someplace safe.

“I’ve been soooo bored,” Basil burbles, trailing after her like a baby duck while she shrugs off her jacket and wings it at the couch. “I read all your books again but, Aubrey, you r-really don’t have very many books!! What do you do when you get lonely without any books to keep you company??”

Aubrey doesn’t have that problem, because Aubrey doesn’t get lonely. And she definitely doesn’t need company. Not anymore. Lesson learned, bridges burned, etcetera etcetera. The whole friendship game is a lot more trouble than it’s worth. Aubrey could take it or leave it.

It’s not like she didn’t try. She found a family once. Then they threw her away. Then she tried to make her own family, only she got the math wrong, and wound up with a mob of fucking murderers. A pack of bullies who would harass the world’s most pathetic little squirrel until he was ready to die just to be free of them.

(…Free of her.)

She’s not just talking a palmful of pills, either. Basil was so hungry to die, he was willing to do it in the dumbest, messiest, most painful way imaginable.

Can you even imagine driving a pair of pruning shears through your gut? Aubrey can. She tried it once. Not to kill herself, obviously—Aubrey’s not a quitter—but just to see how it would feel. Spoilers: it felt pretty fucking bad. She barely broke the skin before she lost her nerve.

And Basil was always reading those nerdy old paperbacks. Swords and magic and brave little nobodies who went on to accomplish great deeds. With all the bloody pre-industrial warfare he’d read about, he would’ve known that a gut wound is one of the worst ways to go. And somehow, that still sounded like a better time than living for another second with his own personal torturer asleep on his couch. 'Gee, I sure wish my old pal Aubrey would be a little nicer! Guess I’d better drive a pair of round-tip scissors through my fucking chest! Will I bleed out before I’ve finished digesting my organs? There’s only one way to find out!’

“A-Aubrey,” Basil sniffles. He’s still trying to smile, but she can see his eyes reddening. “Wh-Why are you ignoring me?? D-Did I… do something wrong?”

Fuck. Fuck her, she can’t fucking do this. She is so fucking pathetic.

“...Course not,” she says gruffly. “Sorry. I’ll… get some new books?”

His face lights up. It’s cute. Basil was always so cute, before she ruined him. “R-Really?? Oh, wow!! Oh, oh, can I make you a list? There’s this one series I want you to read, and—b-before you say anything, I know you don’t usually like fantasy, but—! I think you’ll really relate to the heroine!!”

You’re a splinter of a broken mind, you stupid nerd. What could you tell me that I don’t already know? “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!!! She went through a lot, but she trained and trained so she could protect everyone, to make sure no one else would ever have to hurt like she did. She’s soooo cool and strong, and she always does what’s right. Just like you!!”

“Hah. Yeah. Sure.”

Read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46429294/chapters/117015964

#omori fanfic #omori photobomb #omori spoilers #knife end #abandon end #omori aubrey #omori basil #omori bushfire

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kpop · 2 years

Audio

This February, we asked members of the @blackintokpop coalition of K-pop podcasters to share their personal experiences as Black K-pop fans and professionals. We’ll publish their stories, all in their own words, throughout the month right here on @kpop.

This week’s post is brought to you by Bora of Hwaiting! Words: Unpopular K-pop Opinions—check it out below ⬇️

A year or so after my jump from K Hip-Hop to K-pop, I met my co-hosts Lars and Destiny, and we started our podcast. As the main host and producer, I managed our social media accounts. This was the first time I deviated from Tumblr for K-pop-related content. On one site in particular, stuff hits the fan fast, especially if you’re a Black fan, and when you’re on that site long enough, you see some things. You see your mutuals get harassed or even doxxed for the simplest things. You hear about idols and K-celebs who have been culturally insensitive or appropriative in what feels like real-time. You see K-pop fans jump through hula hoops to explain why K-pop companies shouldn’t have to address certain social issues that affect Black fans…it’s crazy. For Black fans who use that site, most of us go through this thing I call “the point.” The point is when you’ve dealt with so much nonsense from the K-pop fandom world, you have to decide how to move forward. Some people go the un-stanning route—they choose to stop stanning a group they once loved due to how they’ve been treated by other fans, or they minimize the amount of K-pop they consume as a whole. Other people create boundaries and respond to nonsense with laughter. I’m in this boat. It’s not that I don’t care that a person, idol, or group did something stupidly offensive. I just choose to protect my peace and mental well-being by laughing it off. (Some might consider this to be gallows humor.) Thirdly, we have those who choose to go guns ablazing. These are usually the newly enlightened Black fans who just realized their fave has a history of wearing blackface or dreadlocks. These fans are troopers. They’ll argue with every ignorant K-pop fan they encounter on the timeline. Call out people who are complicit in racism in K-pop on Spaces. Give a piece of their mind while quote-retweeting screenshots of now-deleted tweets. No one is safe from their wrath. Not all Black fans go through “the point.” There are a lot of people out there who are "lost in the sauce." For those of us who do go through it, there is no one right way to respond to prejudice and strife. We just encourage anyone who needs an oasis to check out Black Into K-pop. We’re creating a safe space for you.

Thanks for sharing your story with us, Bora! If you want more from Hwaiting! Words: Unpopular K-pop Opinions, you can find it here—and stick with us as we highlight more from @blackintokpop throughout February.

#black history month #blackexcellence365 #hwaiting words #black into kpop coalition

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wishesunderthestars · 3 years

Text

Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

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You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

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You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts #bts hybrid au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort

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falcons-wings · 3 years

Text

spark

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: when trying to get away from a guy who wont leave reader alone, bucky helps get rid of him

warnings: piece of shit dude who harasses and doesnt take no for an answer, swearing ,, pretty fluffy especially towards the end

wc: 1.3k+

masterlist

a/n: decided to do my first bucky work to beef up my masterlist a little and as a small break from the sam series im gonna post soon ,, hope its alright :)

(gif by @1038276637 )

Bucky still felt uncomfortable in incredibly crowded places, he didn’t know whether this was because of his time in the war or all of the shit that happened to him afterwards; either way loud places just like this bar he had been dragged to by Sam unnerved him - there were just so many noises and different possible dangers, so he was on edge all night.

He wasn’t even sure where Sam had disappeared to, he last saw him with a pretty girl, leaving him sat at the bar alone. He didn’t hold this against him though, he knew he wasn’t always the best person to be around, especially in a place like this, but Dr Raynor kept telling him he ‘needed to reenter society and spend time with friends’. And unfortunately for him Wilson was one of the only people he could maybe consider a friend at the moment and who had been annoying him about coming out to this bar for a while, so here he was, drinking a beer that had no effect on him at the bar on his own and listening to the weird music of the 21st century playing in the background.

He was almost finished with his drink and ready to leave when you sat next to him, you leaned into him as if you knew him and your smile was kind, but he could see a slight panic in your eyes. Something was obviously wrong and you leaned slightly closer to kiss his cheek whilst whispering so quiet he almost missed it.

“Really sorry about this but there’s a creepy guy who won’t leave me alone can you quickly pretend you’re here with me?”

Before Bucky even had a chance to reply to you or react, a large man with a gruff face and the smell of alcohol on his breath appeared at your shoulder with a predatory look in his eyes. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave the man as soon as he was in sight, so he felt more than saw you move closer to him and away from this man who was eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“Hey sweetheart you left before we finished our conversation, why don’t we finish it somewhere else?”

You opened your mouth as if you were gonna say something, but apparently thought better of it and instead turned to Bucky with pleading eyes. He knew he couldn’t make a scene as that would end badly for multiple people so he was now just trying to control his anger at this piece of shit human being before he beat him up.

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder to pull you a little closer and to try and comfort you a little , “She’s with me, so why don’t you leave?” He made sure his voice was firm and clear, hoping this man would get the idea to leave you alone.

The man looked at him, and his arm around you, and glared, apparently able to tell that Bucky wasn’t one to mess with.

The man looked at you again before huffing out a breath, giving one last glare at Bucky before turning around and stalking back into the crowd.

“Again, I am really sorry about that.” You shuffled away slightly to break the contact you had with him, turning to face him instead, and he couldn’t help but find himself almost missing the close contact.

“Was he bothering you for long?”

“Not really, it was only about 10 minutes but anytime I tried to show or say I wasn’t interested he didn’t seem to get the hint unfortunately.” You gave him a small smile as if to say ‘what can you do?’ But this was completely not fine and Bucky thought that surely it should be a bigger deal than you were making it out to be?

“Have you seen him at this bar before?”

“Um no, this is the first time I’ve actually been to this place, my friends said I should have some fun for once - but obviously that wasn’t what actually happened tonight”

“Oh, well I’m sorry even if it hasn’t got anything to do with me and honestly I don’t come out at all but my friend actually annoyed me into coming tonight before he disappeared on me.” He laughed, glad to see you smile slightly too.

It was clear you were much more comfortable now the creep was gone but you still weren’t at ease, fiddling with your ring on your thumb during the conversation.

“I really am thankful you helped me though, and if you’re not usually here I am glad you were tonight, not sure I want to think about what would have happened if you weren’t.”

“Well you don’t have to think about it.”

You looked up at him to give him a small smile, making proper eye contact with for the first time since you sat down.

“I do have one question though.” He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued, “Why did you pick me to help you? I mean I’m happy to, it’s just there’s just plenty of other men here who would probably love to scare someone away from you.”

“You looked the most serious and not as drunk as everyone else, so I assumed you would be more reliable and-“

You hesitated slightly as if you were embarrassed before continuing, “And I guess you looked a little lonely and could do with some company.”

Bucky almost choked on his drink, he could admit the wasn’t the most social person but normally when people describe him its things like: mean, tired, cold and stuff like that - normally lonely wasn’t used.

“Oh shit was that rude? I’ll get going now.”

“No don’t worry there’s much worse things you could’ve said.”

“That’s good then, I wouldn’t want to insult my fake boyfriend on our first date.” You laughed, a proper laugh that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you, and despite barely knowing you, he would do anything to hear you laugh like that again.

“Are you still planning on heading out?”

“Yeah my bed is calling my name after this long day I think.”

“Do you feel safe walking on your own? Because as you said I’m very sober and it would be irresponsible if I didn’t make sure a lovely lady like you got home safe.”

“Wow a man of honour,” you smirked at him, “but yes if you don’t mind that would actually be great. On one condition though.”

“What condition?”

“You tell me your name, I can’t go around being protected by a man I don’t know the name of.”

“Bucky.”

Your smile grew a little wider and he absolutely loved seeing it, “Well Bucky, it’s nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

You held out your hand for him to shake as you both stood up, and despite the warm feeling Bucky got in his chest at being in proximity to you, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so stepped away. He held the door of the bar open for you as you left, and kept a small distance away from you the whole way to your apartment block, being a complete gentlemen, just like he was raised.

When the two of you were outside your apartment, he stood to the side whilst you fumbled with your keys, and when you were finally successful in opening the door you turned back to him, a nice smile on your face.

“Thanks again for all the help Bucky, you were a fantastic fake boyfriend and it was lovely to meet you.”

“Again it was no problem, and you weren’t too bad at being a fake girlfriend yourself doll.”

There was a slight blush on your cheeks as you looked at him one last time, “Goodnight Bucky.”

You didn’t wait for his response, instead just walking into your apartment, and Bucky found himself with an uncharacteristic grin on his face as he stood there, whispering “Goodnight y/n.” before walking away, hoping that he would bump into you again some day.

#ngl this isnt my best work but ive been writing whilst tipsy from like 5 cocktails so its something yous are gonna have to deal with #once ive written something it is officially Not My Problem #falcons-wings #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sam wilson #marvel #mcu #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #mcu fic #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic

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maldiaaym · 3 years

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Why do I think Lily Evans (Potter) was not a good friend?

Until recently, the general opinion of the fandom was that Lily Potter was a good girl, deified and the representation of purity and goodness. But, doing a more exhaustive study of the character, we can get to see how Lily evans maybe was not so holy and made mistakes due to her education and, possibly, depending on the stage of her life where she found herself when she made those mistakes.

In relation to Severus Snape, I think she was not a good friend. Regardless of his age, which we all understand that we do not see friendship in childhood, adolescence or adulthood, she also had defects that compared to other characters in the saga, they were not a role model.

Starting from the little we know about her through the worst memory and Snape's memories, we are going to take some situations into account to assess her defects:

She blamed Snape for the letter Petunia sent to Dumbledore.

She got mad at Snape for dropping a branch on Petunia, even though he did so unconsciously and Petunia was rude to him.

The discussion with Snape about what happened with Remus (werewolf accident), his distrust of who was her friend and believing others before, not caring about Snape.

The lake scene, where she never addressed Snape once, as if he didn't know him and was just another boy to help.

The same lake scene, where she taunted Snape after he called her "Mudblood".

Now, let's talk about the problems at different levels (social, emotional, mental, physical and cultural):

Social: Snape comes from a lower social class than Lily and, although at first the girl Lily did not see the difference, I suppose that as time passed she realized that it did not look good for Snape to wear second hand clothes (surely ), he had serious problems in the family sphere, Snape's own unsociable nature that did not allow him to have a larger group of friends. In childhood we do not usually take into account the social variable when making friends with other children (pre-Hogwarts), but as she became related to the peer group at Hogwarts, she surely could not help feeling somewhat ashamed of the friendship with Snape . Let me explain, in Snape's adulthood it seems that no one knew about Lily and Snape's friendship, so it would be a secret friendship (and we all know that shame towards the other is what leads to secret friendships and relationships).

Emotional: Lily quickly connected with Snape because there was something she needed from him, and it was the knowledge and the desire to be accepted in a place like Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a new world that she did not know and Snape could offer her the security of knowing that world ... But, when she knew what she had to know, Snape had nothing more to offer her, but a clandestine and unrewarding friendship for her. It is not a mistake to think this, but it does show that she deliberately used Snape and that their friendship deteriorated over time. I think she might have felt friendship for Snape in a pure way, but when she began to be friends with the marauders, her emotional level turned towards these guys and she began to move away from Snape. I think the dark arts were an excuse to end the friendship, wanting to get away from him in an interested way ... it's easy to think that, when you really feel empathy for someone, you try to make the effort to understand that person, to know why him he likes the dark arts. However, she Lily was not able to understand him, understand his fears, his insecurities and the need to flee from the hell where he was stuck.Referring to the lake scene, I think Lily had a complete dissociation from Snape by now, she didn't defend being his friend, she didn't speak to him directly even once, and when he made a mistake due to the situation, she scoffed of him and "flirted" with James.

Mental: I think Lily never understood the true meaning of friendship, not at least as she later taught us Harry by understanding Ron and Hermione and accepting his flaws, even when this child was only 11 years old. I think that Lily, as soon as she could, got rid of Snape because she no longer wanted to have an uncomfortable friend, a friend who surely helped her for years in her studies at Hogwarts (I mean surely potions). Snape was like a teacher for Lily in her access to the magical world, he helped her in the study and knowledge of the magical world and I think that Lily stopped seeing usefulness when she already found in Gryffindor and the marauders the way to go her way . I mean, I think she coldly weighed whether or not she was interested in staying friends with Snape and she conveniently cut off the friendship when she got the chance. Lily showed herself to be a cold person who did not understand what Snape was in her whole and who did not appreciate all that he had done for her.I know that calling her "Mudbloods" was not right, but instead of trying to understand the shame and harassment that Snape felt at that time, she broke off the friendship and remained friends with the stalker, the one who emotionally blackmailed her and who continued to be a bully. No one can convince me otherwise.

Physical: here we will talk about the implications of a person who is not really physically attractive. There are studies that determine that people who do not fit the standards of beauty tend to have fewer opportunities in social relationships, love relationships or even find a job. With all this I mean that, when we are children, we do not care about anyone's physical appearance, but when we reach adolescence, our group of equals teach us the canons of beauty, which is considered handsome or what not. In this case, I think Lily was superficial. That is to say, Snape was not physically attractive, surely he did not look comfortable being with him because she was a popular, pretty girl, and he was attracted to a boy who was much more attractive than Snape (even though James was, in my opinion, uglier emotionally and disrespectful to others, adding being a bully). Lily preferred to go for the handsome boy rather than choose a loyal friend who was unattractive.

Cultural: At this level many factors enter, but here I will choose to talk about the differences of ideologies and different culture between Slytherin and Gryffindor. As we know, both houses were enemies, they were the contrast between good and evil in the Harry Potter saga. Slytherin represented everything bad and Gryffindor everything good. Here we also talk about the peer group (that is, a group of people that we consider our equals and from whom we learn cultural, social, emotional and behavioral factors), where Lily in the end ended up choosing to choose Gryffindor and be immersed in ideas prefabs that already existed about Slytherin even though, surely, many ideas were not true. Some of these ideas were hatred towards the "dirty bloods", defending the purity of blood, ambition as a negative element and cunning as if it were something bad that always leads to cheating.Where I see these preconceptions most clearly is in the scene where Lily argues with Snape for defending Mulciber, etc ... in this scene it seems that Lily puts the marauders before (she is supposed to talk about them) because they are from her house and believes that what Mulciber does is worse because he is in Slytherin. Being in Gryffindor, she is believed to have the moral superiority and the right to claim Snape to choose a position, when obviously Snape, like Lily, will choose their peer group. The point here is that Lily prefers to believe the marauders and put Snape in the guilty position, without even asking if his friend is okay or asking him what he saw ... Lily is not interested in knowing what happened because surely he was content with James's version and would always doubt any version Snape could give it.

Up to here, I did my study. It is a bit lazy, I wrote it on the fly and remembering some of the knowledge I acquired when I was studying Pedagogy. But, in essence, I hope you have understood. In the end, Lily opted for what she considered to be okay based on ideas and beliefs that she ended up having with her peer group. She put her friendship with the marauders first and decided to coldly and selfishly eliminate her friendship with Snape. In the end, we have all had friends from whom we have moved away because they no longer shared things with us (although I can presume that I never alienated anyone for thinking differently or liking things that I did not like), but also friends that we have from all our lives, with those of us who do not like things about them, but accept them and try to understand them, where the company of that person is valued more and we do not care what they tell us. It is true that the "peer group" exerts a lot of influence on us, despising those who consider strange people or have unusual habits for the majority of the population. But Snape and Lily met in childhood, this factor should not have been decisive for their estrangement and, I am afraid, that in the almost of Lily, he ended up accepting the conditions of his peer group to the detriment of maintaining a friendship that so much contributed. I don't hate Lily, I have no problem with her, for me she really is a flat character, too overrated and that only has a few three lines in the entire Harry Potter saga. It is impossible to empathize with her as we would with other characters and she hardly has any development of her. The most remarkable thing about her is that she gave her life for her son, otherwise she showed us a girl who had a strange friendship with Snape and who married the popular boy of her time.

#severus snape #severus snape headcanon #severus snape meta #severus #snape #Lily evans #Lily Potter #James Potter #Hogwarts #headcanon hp #marauders #hp #Harry Potter

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shelobussy · 3 years

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ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do) by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this.

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up.

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust.

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend. Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.)

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.)

________

#lmao follow for more fic recs #ash recs #ash's rec list #ash recs fics #tma fic list #tma fics #jmart #jmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma fic recs

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 12

Cult girl deals with an unexpected and unwelcome guest.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: pregnancy, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, infidelity, threats of violence

Step three: kill Anna

So maybe there was an understanding that the pregnancy was to be kept secret from Anna.

The withdrawal of Archie and Max from the picture left a hole in the plan. Just when it looked like you had secured that much-needed victory, it shriveled up and died right before your eyes. That much was certain. Everything else was a big question mark.

Ever since he felt the baby kicking, Hannibal became even more hopelessly enamored with the idea of being a father. He never mentioned it, of course, but it was there. It was there in the way he cooed at your stomach and how his hand lingered after he felt a kick. He was in heaven.

For a few days, it looked like the downward trajectory was beginning to flatten. Then you remembered your favorite line from Ryan Reynolds' Deadpool:

"Life is an endless series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness." You repeated to yourself as your phone flashed Theresa's call icon.

It took you a minute to remember that Theresa in your phone was actually Anna, because you hadn't bothered to change it. In a way, it was symbolic. Theresa was the head you cut off, and Anna sprouted up in her place. All in the pursuit of making your life unbearable.

You pulled the toothbrush from your mouth and placed it next to the sink. Lazily, you brought the phone to your ear. "What?"

"Hey pretty girl!" Anna said, using her most transparently fake cheery voice. "How's it going?"

Then it clicked. You felt kind of stupid that you didn't see it coming. In the world of cults, this was known as 'lovebombing'; a manipulation tactic in which the cult leader showers their target with affection, compliments, validation or anything that would make them associate good feelings with the group. In any other context, it would be called 'ass-kissing'.

You narrowed your eyes in skepticism. "What do you want?"

"Jeez, who crapped in your corn flakes?" She scoffed. "Can't a girl just call her little sister to say hi?"

It would have been one thing to say 'cousin', which, despite your bad blood, would have been technically accurate. But 'sister' was crossing a line. The blood that binded you and Anna together was thinner than water.

"We're not sisters, Anna." You corrected. "Why are you calling?"

"I just wanted to let you know that all is forgiven." She said, slipping back into that phony cheerful tone. "That little fiasco at the funeral, it's water under the bridge."

What Anna didn't know was that the water under the bridge was never water, but gasoline. Every drop that flowed under that bridge only created a more dangerous blaze for when you finally burned it down.

"Awesome." You said, flatly.

"I also wanted to say, 'may the best woman win'." She jeered. "I don't want to alarm you, but Liam and I have been fucking like bunnies."

You gagged. "I'm not alarmed but I certainly didn't need to know that."

"I've been keeping track of my ovulation," She disregarded your objection and continued the conversation she wanted to have. "And I even put child locks on the computer so Liam can't watch porn. Can't spare even a drop, y'know. It's too crucial."

"I will literally let you have the entire inheritance if you please just shut up right now." You said through gritted teeth.

"Oh?" She perked up. "Come on, don't give up. Don't make it too easy. Winning is just more fun when someone else loses."

She was growing into her Theresa shoes quite well.

"Seriously, though," You raised your eyebrows. "If it means I never have to see you again, by all means. Take the damn money."

"You know I love you, right?" Anna blurted out, pretending to be offended. "You may not think so, but I love you like a sister."

Again, you fought the urge to feel bad for her. Her model of sisterly love was Theresa. She could use the word to invoke sympathy, but would never know what it meant. It hit your ear exactly the same as when fundamentalist christian strangers said they loved you and that's why they were harassing you. Just an empty annoyance.

You rolled your eyes. "Goodbye, Anna."

"Wait!" She shouted as if she was about to die.

You threw your head back in exasperation. "What?!"

"I wanted to give you a little good-luck gift." She said.

You were slightly interested. "Oh?"

"Yes." She answered. "Can I swing by and drop it off later?"

You sighed. "Whatever. As long as you make it fast."

You were most certainly noticeably pregnant, but a fluffy robe obscured any misplaced curves just enough. You just hoped she wouldn't ask why you were wearing a fluffy robe in July. Anna arrived at the house, with Liam, who was holding a small basket of colorful jars and bottles.

You waited a minute to see if she would just leave the basket on the porch, but she didn't. You resignedly opened the door.

"[F/N]!" She shouted with that hyper-enthusiastic smile. You cringed, trying not to let her presence trigger your morning sickness.

The smile disappeared from her face. "Jesus H, you look like hell."

You desperately wanted to inform her that it was the strain of growing a human inside your body, but you held your tongue and thought of an excuse.

"I'm hungover." You said. Yeah, that would work.

"The usual, I see." Anna snipped at you under her breath.

You eyed the basket. You didn't even bother to mask your disappointment when you realized it wasn't food. "What's this?"

"Oh, this?" Anna said as if she were starting a sales pitch. "This is my olive branch. My exclusive DoTERRA fertility rejuvenation kit."

Your brain refused to process that Anna had been sucked in to an MLM, as it was really only a matter of time. You just didn't think it would take this long.

"Dude, you're twenty-nine and I'm twenty-six." You narrowed your eyes at her. "What on earth are we rejuvenating?"

She pointed to a collection of little bottles. "So these are for the initial cleanse. Put a few drops of this in your food, and some of this in your bathwater-"

She rattled on with practiced certainty about the fictitious health benefits of thyme and geranium oils, how they promote fertility and whatnot.

"Thanks, Anna." You cut her off, reaching for the gift basket. You didn't intend to use any of it, but you could pawn it off on some struggling hunbot for less than they would buy it new.

Anna pulled the basket out of your reach. "Oh. I wasn't giving it to you."

Nothing surprised you anymore, and this was no exception. "I thought you said it was a gift?"

"Oh, god no." She shook her head. "This whole kit costs, like, five hundred dollars."

You grimaced. "So you came here to show me your snake oil collection?"

"I came here to tell you in person about this amazing business opportunity." She said, returning to her fake smile. "For just $1000, you can be part of this amazing company-"

"Anna, what am I studying right now?" You cut her off.

She looked at you with round, clueless eyes. She looked back at Liam for help. He tapped his head to give her a hint.

"I want to say..." her voice trailed off. "...brain surgery?"

You shook your head. "No. Liam?"

"Clinical psychology with a specialization in cults." He answered. "You want to be the next Steven Hassan."

Anna didn't deserve Liam.

"So you're saying you're too smart for me?" Anna said, crossing her arms. "You're too busy going to your fancy college, living with your fancy boyfriend to support your own sister's hustle?"

"I'm saying you're in a cult." You countered. "A pretty obvious one, at that."

"Oh, when your only solution is a hammer every problem looks like a nail." She scoffed. "You think everything is a cult. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"I'll be happy for you when you accomplish something that isn't built off the backs of people you fucked over." You said, allowing yourself to finally snap.

Anna's jaw hung open. "Do I even need to gesture to this house? Those clothes? That degree? All paid for by your rich boyfriend."

It's time.

You stepped on to the porch and shut the door behind you. "Liam. I have something to tell you."

Liam handed the basket off to Anna and approached. "Alright."

"No she doesn't, Liam." Anna objected. "Don't listen to her. You know she's a liar."

"Liam." You said, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember Nathan Sparks?"

"Anna's ex from college?" Liam folded his arms and looked at his wife. "Vaguely."

Anna gritted her teeth at you. "I swear to fucking god, [F/N]-"

"Anna, stop." Liam cut her off. "Let her speak."

"Anna continued to see him for two years after you got together." You smirked.

Liam's dial-up internet brain sputtered to life.

"Oh my god." His mouth hung open. "...is he 'pineapple'?!"

"Nope." You said. "You are."

"Is this true, Anna?" Liam said, in the overlap between denial and anger. "Did you keep seeing Nathan after we got together?"

Anna threw the basket on the ground, jars shattering, releasing a noxious cloud of concentrated snake oil. She was too busy glaring daggers at you to answer her husband.

"Fine. Don't tell me." He spat, turning back to you. "I'll hear it from you, [F/N]. You're the only one in this family who's been honest with me."

"She only wanted to get with you because your uncle is CEO of that publishing house." You added. You felt bad for essentially rubbing salt in the wound, but he was right to assume he wouldn't hear it from anyone else.

He placed his hand over his head as if to nurse a migrane. "How could I be so stupid..."

"Liam-" Anna said, her voice jumping a few octaves.

Liam put up his hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry, Lee." You offered. Even though you loved seeing Anna caught, you felt bad for every person she victimized along the way. Liam was no exception.

He dropped his shoulders and sighed. "Thank you, [F/N]. I'll be out of your way, now. Anna--"

He stopped himself, presumably to avoid saying something he would regret. "...find your own way home."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, leaving Anna with you.

"Thanks for coming." You sneered at her, feeling around behind you for the door handle. "I'd call an uber if I were you."

"You twisted bitch." She scowled, hands hovering in your direction. "You just get off on ruining people's lives, don't you?"

"Oof, that's some serious projection, Anna." You said, unconsciously untying the belt of your robe and pulling it off your shoulders.

"You're-" She sputtered, her eyes growing to the size of personal pizzas. "You're fucking pregnant?!"

Shit. You thought, cycling through whatever braincells you had left for an idea of how to play this off as if you meant to do it.

"Surprise." You shrugged. Yeah, that would work.

"That's impossible!" She stammered. "You're- you're not even married!"

"Grandma never said anything about marriage." You grinned.

Anna struggled to find her words. "That is unfair!"

"So now that you're not winning, the game is unfair?" You raised an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips and pointed at you. "You aren't going to get away with this."

"Just like you didn't get away with cheating on your husband?" You taunted.

"I'm serious, [F/N]." Anna said, backing down the porch steps. "I will destroy everything you love just like you did to me."

For a half a second, the voice in your head told you to beware, that the threat should be taken seriously. Upon remembering it was coming from Anna, you pushed the thought from your mind.

You shouldn't have.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x pregnant reader #pregnancy #baby fever #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

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shini--chan · 3 years

Note

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere france

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Zeke Tyler

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I have a lot of thoughts about this greasy little man and the way he acts with girls)

- Zeke Tyler had been driving you nuts for as long as you could remember. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. He’d been driving you nuts for as long as you’d known him; that was more accurate.

- Freshman year, that was when it had all started. You were a year younger than him and had been the target of his harassment since the day you met him. You couldn't go a day without him blatantly making fun of you, trying to embarrass you or making suggestive comments towards you just; what you could only assume was, to make a fool out of you.

- You tried your best to either avoid or ignore him, mainly staying quiet since you were on the shy side; something that probably contributed to his eagerness to mess with you. Anytime you tried to respond, he found it amusing. Any curses or insults you’d give him back, or your telling of him to leave you alone, we’re all delivered in vain.

“Come on y/n/n, when are you gonna let me take you out?” He’d tease with a smirk and you’d just know that he was only messing with you.

- The thing is, you couldn’t have been more wrong. All his propositions and invitations were genuine, Zeke just didn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you.

- It was easier for him to be a jerk and sarcastic with you, that way he could have an excuse to be around you whenever he wanted and pretend like he wasn’t hurt when you’d inevitably reject.

- Because of course you’d reject him. He was a burnout before he even had the chance, a drug dealing senior who’d been held back a year. Hell, his parents didn’t even like him. Why would you?

- Funny thing is, as much as he tried to be a dick to you, even you could notice the occasional cracks in his façade, though you’d tend to try to write them off.

- An increasingly obvious crack was the fact that no one else was allowed to treat you the way he did. The minute someone else tried, he’d jump to your defense and turn on them, giving them shit or just telling them to leave you alone. He was possessive over his victims, yay!

- Okay, to be fair and honest and all that: You didn’t hate Zeke. You didn’t necessarily like him or the way he treated you, but you didn’t hate him. There was even a part of you that felt a strange attraction towards him; as much as you didn’t like admitting it.

- Which is something you ended up making known to him one day after school when you happened to be the only people left in the building. You were at your locker, he’d approached you and after he teased and once again “asked you out”, you finally spoke up.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” He’d grinned in response, waiting eagerly for your reply.

“Act like a jerk and then try to take me out. Why would I go out with you after you mess with me all day?”

“So you’re saying that you’d go out with me if I was nicer to you?” He’d asked lowly, taking a step closer as the two of you locked eyes.

- You stuttered out an objection before saying a flustered goodbye and making your exit. He should probably thank you for that advice one of these days.

- Taking your advice, Zeke “acts nice”; in his own special way. Instead of being a total jackass, he acts teasingly kind to you: always greeting you and asking how you’re doing, exaggeratedly opening doors for you, all but pleading to help you with things. He’s obviously still sarcastic but it’s …less obnoxious. It’s after a week or so of that, that things finally come to a head.

- You were sitting outside in the hot sun, trying to do your chemistry homework while having no idea what the fuck it was talking about. Finally, you'd just about given up, putting your face in your hands while trying to get a grip before you completely lost it. That was when a quiet voice rang out from in front of you.

- Obviously, it was Zeke and before you knew it, he’d taken your pencil and done the problem for you, telling you how to do it in a few easy steps.

- A bit shocked but more than grateful, you thanked him quietly. He gave you a small smile and began to straighten up again, but just before he did, he met your eyes once more and asked if you wanted to hear something funny.

“I could have graduated last year, you know? …I mean if I wanted to, I could have, …but I didn’t. And I mean, I guess it was for a bunch of reasons but one of them ...one of them was you,” He’d started, looking away from you and to his hands which were resting against the table. “And I’m sure that sounds really stupid, but it’s a fact. …I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like you ..a lot, and I want to know, in all seriousness, if you would go out with me.”

You froze for a moment but just as he was about to leave; figuring you were going to turn him down like always, you’d responded with a “I’m free on Friday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at eight.”

- The two of you go and watch movies at his house for your first date. His parents are rarely ever home and that day was no exception so the two of you had the whole house to yourselves.

- It was just after the first movie ended that the two of you shared your first kiss. He was settling back on the couch after popping in the second film when the two of you locked eyes. He slowly leaned in, his hand moving to gently brush against your cheek before his lips met yours, soft at first before becoming more passionate.

- The movie was quickly forgotten about as he lowered you back against the couch. It was only until a loud scream erupted from the television that you were snapped out of your daze. You finally pulled away, gently holding his face in place and shyly mentioning that you should “probably leave it at that”, causing a grin to spread across his face.

- It’s safe to say that after that, the two of you were officially addicted to each other.

- Zeke really doesn’t whether people are watching or not, if he wants to hug or kiss you in public then they “can look away like normal fucking people”.

- Handholding. Well, you’re sorta just holding his sleeve most of the time but that’s just how Zeke is.

- Hugs from behind. He usually ends up nuzzling his face into your neck whenever he does.

- Hairline kisses. He’ll pull you closer and give you one whenever you're leaving for class.

- Soft kisses. As cocky as he acted, when you first started your relationship, he was always really nervous when going in for a kiss.

- Cheek strokes. They’re the barest, featherlight touches you’ll ever feel but they’ll still make your heart race.

- Getting swept up in makeout sessions.

- Hickeys. He doesn’t really care about placement but if you protest, he’ll leave them in more hidden areas.

- Zeke takes it personally when you don’t want him being affectionate with you. He’s the boyfriend that asks what your problem is when you keep letting go of his hand or shrugging off his hugs/arm.

- Please cuddle him. He likes to occasionally pretend like he doesn’t like it or is annoyed by it but he sure as hell doesn’t let you go when you go to pull away.

- Him falling asleep on you. He’ll lay his head on your lap with his arms wrapped around your waist while you run your fingers through his hair or down his back.

- You get a few nicknames and pet names from him, usually things like sweetheart, Princess, and babe.

- He genuinely likes when you call him pet names. He’ll usually roll his eyes at you but then he’ll look away and try to hide his shy little smile afterward.

- Honestly, Zeke is really cute with you most of the times; especially when you’re alone together. Nose boops or rubs, forehead presses, sweet teasing comments. On the inside, he’s just a softie who really wants to be loved.

- One day, he just took off his ring and slipped it onto your finger while he was playing with your hands. He told you to keep it when you asked about it ...so consider that a promise ring because that’s what he secretly considers it.

- Massages. He’ll use any excuse to touch you honey; especially if it can lead to something more.

- Wearing his jersey. That is ...a kink, and that’s all I’m saying about that.

- Sitting on the bleachers and watching him practice after he joins the football team.

- Sharing food.

- He likes hearing you talk; it doesn’t even matter what about. You could be talking about completely meaningless bullshit and he’d be perfectly content with listening to it. He’s sort of just happy that you want to tell him things, and he just likes your voice.

- Book talk. He may or may not have found a secret love for literature purely because you were interested in it and in his English class.

- Zeke’s a smart guy, he just doesn’t try, so you tend to make sure he studies and actually does his assignments.

- Jokingly teasing him about his glasses.

- Hanging out in his lab with him.

- The two of you frequent school storage rooms and closets. You occasionally help him steal things but more often than not, the two of you just makeout in there.

- Going to junkyards and smashing stuff.

- Lighting off fireworks with each other.

- Bonfires.

- Watching somewhat amused as he plays pranks on and makes fun of people. You keep a bit of a leash on him and make sure he isn’t too much of an asshole.

- Sitting on his car in the parking lot together.

- Keeping him company as he smokes.

- Free drugs and free *all his other inventory*. That being said, he’ll occasionally refuse to give you something because he cares too much about you and doesn’t want to fuck up your life. He’ll usually say something like “you don’t want this” or laugh and tell you he “isn’t giving you any” when he does.

- I’m convinced that Zeke would actually be really good at calming people down from panic attack purely because of his history with drug users. If he can handle a doped up tweaker, he can handle you.

- Getting little surprises left in your locker, he may or may not pick your lock to put them there. But hey, if you ever need to get into someplace, he’s got it covered.

- He sort of thinks it’s funny to scare you, usually with his driving.

- Going on death rides in the middle of the night.

- Sneaking out to see him. Given the way Zeke is and; likely, his general reputation, your parents probably aren’t fans of him, and even if they were, they probably wouldn’t let you go out with him at midnight.

- Honestly, he sort of likes when you insult him; as long as it doesn’t hit too close to home. If you call him an asshole, he’ll probably just pull you into a kiss as he smiles.

- He makes sure that no one walks all over you; especially if you have a habit of apologizing for no good reason, he won’t let his girl be anyone’s doormat.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to no one. Just get in the fucking car.”

- I’m sorry but your boyfriend is a really jealous guy; mainly because he’s insecure and oftentimes feels like he isn’t good enough for you. He’ll ask what you were doing whenever he sees you with other guys and won’t forget about it unless it’s obvious that you aren’t interested in them and they aren’t interested in you.

- Zeke would wholeheartedly fucking ice an entire room full of people for you and that is the honest to god truth. The minute someone acts even the slightest bit antagonistic towards you, he’s on there ass like he’s your guard dog.

- Surprisingly enough, you and Zeke rarely ever have serious fights. More often than not, you just bicker with each other before settling things fairly quickly.

- When things are more serious, he’ll argue and curse but he hardly ever yells, unless he’s raising his voice for emphasis. The only problem that really arises when you’re fighting is the fact that he thinks it’s amusing or hot when you’re angry so he just can’t take you seriously a lot of the time.

- Zeke’s a bit of a jackass so he’ll corner you/pull you into secluded places and not let you leave until he speaks his peace when the two of you have had a fight. That being said, he does offer you a genuine apology after doing so, and usually pulls you in for a kiss once you’ve forgiven him.

- He tells you he loves you quite a bit, albeit really casually, like when you’re saying goodbye and he just says “love you” without thinking. He does get a bit embarrassed when it’s in front of other people though.

- He likes to imagine that the two of you will stay together no matter what happens but when he thinks about the future and all that comes with it, he gets a bit nervous. He thinks he’d make a shitty father; because of his own parents, even though he’s sort of really cute and good with kids.

#zeke tyler imagines #zeke tyler imagine #zeke tyler headcanons #zeke tyler headcanon #the faculty imagine #the faculty headcanons #the faculty headcanon #the faculty imagines #90s movie headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagines

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mighty-ragnarssons · 3 years

Text

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter II

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Warnings | some smut, a little angst, violence, harassement, teenage pregnancy

Keep up with the previous chapter here [chapter 1]

First of all let me thank you for the amazing support. You guys are the best! I hope you enjoy this one as well :)

You can read in AO3 as well (click here).

Chapter 2

Days passed and still no text. Ivar was tempted to drive by the apartment he’d left them at, but that would be crazy, right? He should’ve never told her to use his number in case of emergency. What if that was why she didn’t contact him? Instead he tried to let it go although it wasn’t easy. He’d go to class in university, he’d party with his brothers, he’d smoke some things to keep his mind away, but nothing really worked. Once he was obsessed with something, that was it.

It didn’t help at all when Hvitserk came home one day saying he’d seen Ivar’s girl.

“What do you mean?”

“That girl from the other night. The one you’re so hung up on. The pretty blonde” Ivar had to stop himself from growling. Why couldn’t his brother just tell him already? Hvitserk was clearly amused at the whole situation. “I left the gym and went to try that new coffee shop downtown, know which one? Well, she’s an attendant there. And you know what, she looks really cute in an apron” Hvisterk teased, seeing how Ivar’s teeth clenched slightly. “Cute and nice. She offered me a coffee and a muffin, saying it was to thank me for the help. Damn fine muffins. I might have to go there again for one of those sweet things.”

While Hvitserk daydreamed of muffins, Ivar was thinking about having them as an excuse to pass by the coffee shop. He couldn’t stay away and this was the perfect excuse.

“Did she tell you to visit again?” Ivar asked, taken aback for a moment. His older brother, much like the others, was the town’s heart breakers. Hvitserk’s pretty looks and dazzling smile could get him anyone he wanted. Perhaps he’d already bewitched the girl.

“I guess so. She works there, isn’t she supposed to say that? ‘Have a nice day. Come again!’ I’m pretty sure she says it to everyone. But if what you are asking me is that I got her number or anything, the answer is no. I actually asked her out again but she didn’t take me seriously” Pretending to be hurt, he put his hand over his heart. “Perhaps she is not into Ragnarssons. Interesting, uh? There’s always a first”

Stupid Hvits, Ivar wanted to say. How could his brother go after the girl he clearly had staked a claim on?

“Did she tell you her name?” This little detail was something he couldn’t stop wondering about.

“Now that I think about it, no, I don’t think so. I was too distracted by her pretty smile to ask about that” Well, now Hvisterk was really just trying to mess with his brothers “Tell me, little brother, will you crawl into that coffee shop right now?” he joked “Take my advice: lose the puppy face before going.”

“So funny I forgot I to laugh”

Hvitserk was wrong. Ivar didn’t crawl to the coffee shop right away that day, although he wanted to. Instead, trying to be rational, he waited a couple of days and decided to drop by after his classes in university. He could always pretend he went there to study, although that was something he rarely did. He just really wanted to see the girl again. She hadn’t left his thoughts since that night.

However, to his dismay, she wasn’t there. There were only two attendants and none were his nameless girl. His heart sunk a little, but disappointment was something he was used to. It no longer left a bitter taste to this mouth. He stayed, nevertheless. After a couple of hours working in his computer in the company of a whipped cream coffee and one of the famous muffins - his brother was right, they were a delicacy, he was finally willing to admit defeat. It’s not like he could even ask about her, not really given how her name was something he didn’t know yet. so, the afternoon definitely didn’t go as he had expected.

Frustrated, he put his computer back in the bag and left the payment on the table. With the help of his crutches, Ivar stood and was on the way out, almost making it past the door but stopped seconds before the door opened, almost hitting him.

He would’ve been mad, but it was her coming in.

“It’s like we can’t stop meeting like this” he chuckled.

The blonde girl looked surprised. “I’m sorry. It seems I have a bad habit of bumping into you”

Because there were clients trying to go through said door as well, both Ivar and the girl stepped outside.

“You’re leaving?”

“And you’re just getting here now?”

“I guess your brother told you I worked here”

“Well, yes. But I was just passing by. My university is just a couple of blocks away. I’ve been meaning to try out this since it opened and I needed to study”

He regretted saying this almost immediately. Would she get the idea that he was not interested in seeing her again?

“I only work here after classes” she informed, while mindlessly flipping her hair away from the side of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Ivar didn’t miss a single movement of hers, wishing he’d been the one doing that for her.

What the fuck, Ivar? Focus, he was trying to tell himself.

“It was nice to see you, Ivar. I don’t think I thank you enough the other night. You really helped us out. Not many would have done that” She smiled a little “I gotta go in or else I’ll be late for my shift” She moved closer to the coffee shop’s door.

He didn’t want to see her go, though “Maybe we can meet one of these days?”

Looking conflicted, she bit her lip “Perhaps we'd better not" she said “It’s like I told your brother… I have a lot going on, with school and work and.. well, I’m sure you’re busy too”

Ivar was shocked. Was she really dismissing him that quickly? He wasn’t one to take ‘no’ for an answer. “There’s always time if the company is good”

“You’re Ivar Lothbrok. One of the Ragnarssons”

That settled it. The first time he heard her saying his name, it sounded so good. This time? She was not as impressed, it seemed.

“And so what? What stories have you heard that led you to believe I won’t be any good company?” his voice was raised and succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable.

She shot him an apologetic look. “It doesn’t matter, Ivar. I’m sorry, I really have to go inside. Please, do know that I’m grateful for your help and I wished things were different”

“You just don’t want to hang out with a Ragnarsson, I get it” his accusatory tone made her flinch. Although his expression was carefully controlled, she saw in his eyes that her rejection stung. “Before you go, allow me at least to say a proper goodbye. I don’t know your name yet”

For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to tell him anyways. All of this was going terribly. But then she surprised him “My name is Eva. Eva Jørgensen”

Bitterly, and before walking away, he proceeded “Then I guess this is goodbye, Eva Jørgensen. Have a nice life.”

“Goodbye, Ivar Lothbrok”

Her rejection stung far more than he wanted to admit. It felt worse than his previous rejections, not just because of the blow to his ego, but more because he cared a little for her, had since the night he helped her in the club, and somewhat he’d been expecting things to go differently. How stupid he was feeling.

It didn’t take long for his ill temper to grow as he drove back home. Finding out that a party was taking place in the Lothbrok home didn't improve much of his mood, either. Moving through the crowd of people into the living room, he saw Sigurd playing DJ in a corner, looking high as fuck by the looks of his attempted dance moves. Not far from him was Hvitserk surrounded by a bunch of ladies. Ivar recognised many of the faces among the more than a hundred people.

“Brother” Ubbe showed up behind him. He was still in his business attire, looking completely out of place from the rave “Sigurd claimed we need to make use of the house before our father comes back. Texted everyone we knew.” he explained, opening a beer can. Only then he noticed his little brother’s somber expression. “What’s eating you? You look like you could use a drink”

“I sure do. Actually… You wouldn’t happen to have any pills with you? In your personal stash”

“Ivar… I’m not sure that’s a good idea”

“C’mon, don’t be a killjoy”

“Is it for the pain?” Ubbe asked, but reckoning it wouldn’t be. Ivar’s eyes were not the strongest shade of blue like they used to be when he’s suffering more than usual.

“Ubbe, will you fucking give me some or not?” he snarled.

“Look, I don’t have any at the moment. Maybe Hvitty does, but he looks like he’s already under the influence of them. Why don’t you just come out to the terrace, drink something and chill? I’m sure your shitty day will get better if you stop being so grumpy”

“Spare me the bullshit. I’m out of here”

Holding tight to his crutches, Ivar went to his room. It was the only room on the ground floor so the blasting music could still be heard from it. In need of releasing some steam, he took the matters to the gym they had on the basement floor, also known as the man cave. Getting one beer from the bar they kept down there, he decided to throw punches on the boxing bag, which he could only do from a seating position. When beers were no longer satisfying him, he took it to the bottle of vodka. Ivar just wanted to have his mind distracted from the beautiful Eva.

At some point, when his sight was already blurry and he had collapsed on a red couch, he thought he was imagining things for he’d swear there was a girl who was making her way to him. He tried to blink but his vision wouldn't get any better (no doubt too much alcohol and physical pain had taken over him). The world slightly dark around him, Ivar felt a set of hands pulling his t-shirt, then pressing onto his sweaty torso first, then down towards his pants. The next thing he feels is his lower lip being bitten. At the metallic taste of blood, he regained consciousness just a bit, but enough to discern the blonde girl who now had her hand inside his pants.

“Margrethe, don’t fucking play games with me” he said dangerously.

Margrethe only continued to look mockingly into his blue eyes. “So vulnerable and at my mercy, Ivar. Still, you don’t get it up, do you? Why do I even bother?” A mean laugh rose from her throat “Ubbe said you need some cheering. I guess I felt sorry for the poor little Boneless”

Something snapped in him. His ungovernable temper got the best of him. With the accumulated irritation of the day upon him, he suddenly grabbed her arm and forced it off of him. Muttering between his teeth, he warned “We 'll see about who’s at mercy here”. He could be a crippled, but he was not weak by any means. His hand was not on her neck so hard that Margrethe fell back against the couch, and stayed there with her hands spread out against him, trying to get off his grip.

“IVAR! What the fuck are you doing?”

Suddenly Hvitserk was pulling him away, making Ivar collapse on the floor. Margrethe jumped to the blonde brother’s arms in no time.

"He's crazy. He’s absolutely mad!” She whined, burying her face in Hvitserk’s chest. “Take me out of here”

To complete the party, the rest of the brothers showed up as well, all of them taking Hvitserk’s side and looking down on their cripledl brother. Their looks were one that Ivar had spent his whole life loathing: one of pity and superiority.

“You’re drunk, man. Crawl back to your room, cripple”

It was Sigurd speaking, of course. Margrethe was his favorite. Ubbe simply shot him a disappointed stare before the four of them returned to the party.

Ivar stood on the floor laughing hysterically until he realized what he had done. It didn’t matter that Margrethe was not a saint. She loved to miserly tease him just so she could humiliate him next. It still didn’t give him the right to go against a woman, though. Shame poured over him.

Alone on the cold floor of the basement, a single tear ran down his cheek. What a fucking miserable day.

The following days were no better. His brothers were giving him a silent treatment since the party. Sigurd could barely look at him without snorting. And without his brothers Ivar really didn’t have anyone close, not really caring for his colleagues at university.

There was one person. Floki, the oldest friend of his father Ragnar and Ivar’s mentor.

Ivar dropped by the bay where Floki had his workshop, where he worked on the sailing boats that had coined him the best boat builder in all of Norway. He now ran a successful company called North Sails. Usually Ivar would go spend his afternoons there and would even help a bit, but his mind wasn’t in the right place at the time and Floki kindly dismissed him after Ivar almost ruined a custom-made pine wood deck by spraying the wrong product.

For the most part of the week he had been lonely, which wasn’t something new, but it still bothered him. To pass the time, he worked out more and even went to all his classes and not skip some as usual, but none of that really helped. So that late October afternoon he had resigned to spend it indoors, playing playstation, which was something he usually delighted in beating his brother at, but not this time as he was by himself.

Until his phone beeped. At first, Ivar didn’t pay much attention, but then another text message flashed his screen and a word caught his eyes. Eva.

He immediately grabbed the phone, sliding into the messages from the unknown number which read:

‘Sorry to bother, but I don’t know who else to ask for help. Can you come to the coffee shop? Asap’

‘It’s Eva’

Less than fifteen minutes and many crossed red lights later, Ivar parked his SUV right in front of the coffee shop, not minding it was a forbidden parking area. Although it was past the normal closing time, the lights were on, yet the door was closed. On a normal week night, the street wasn’t as busy as during the day, and but a couple of guys in a corner, it was all empty.

Ivar first tried to look inside, then knocked. He was worried, wondering what help Eva needed. Was she in trouble? Was she hurt? Ivar surprised himself by figuring out that all the grudge he was holding against her was gone, completely replaced with worry.

He let out a sigh of relief when she came up from behind the counter and came to open the door, allowing him inside. The look of relief in her face did not escape him. “Thank you for coming, especially after the last time we..uh...met”

“What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

“This might be silly, and I’m sorry for making you come all the way here, you did tell me to contact in case of an emergency and this might not be one and I’m sorry -”

He cut off her nervous rambling “Eva, just tell me”

“My stupid boss went to watch a football game and left me the keys to close up the space, even if it was not on my schedule. Some guys dropped by. It was really difficult to get them to pay and leave. But they're not gone. When I tried to step outside and wait at the bus stop, they started coming my way and calling out. I rushed back here and locked myself. I was so nervous I texted you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking”

“Don’t apologize.” His jaw clenched. His face hardened, and he started to rise with a hint of violence “Stay here” He commanded before turning his back on her and walking out of the coffee shop.

“Ivar, what are you going to do!”

“Damn, Eva, stay inside”

But she wouldn’t and followed him into the alley. Ivar actually recognised the four guys propped against the wall, acting all tough. The Ragarnasson stood his ground, not feeling nor looking the least intimidated for being outnumbered.

“Nothing to do tonight, boys? You can always go home and catch up with the last episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians instead of creeping out here” he gritted through his teeth.

“Who do you think you are?” one of them stood to face Ivar.

“Oh, the brave one of the group, no? Get your asses out of here before I make you regret coming” Ivar warned seriously.

“You think I’m afraid of you, cripple?”

Don’t say I didn’t tell you so, Ivar thought before head-butting the guy in the nose. The scumbag immediately fell to the ground, dazed. Ivar stomped his crutch over his chest.

“If you ever come near her or the coffee shop again, I'm going to break the rest of your face. And after I do that, I promise I'll break every bone in your body, one by one. Trust me, I know how much it hurts to have your bones broken. You don’t want that happening” He lifted his foot a fraction and the guy whimpered “You know who I am. I am Ivar Lothbrok. I might break a bone, but I can never break a promise. Do you follow me?”

After Ivar let him, the guy rolled over. He seemed scared enough, his hands covering the bloody nose. The guys were looking at Ivar like he was mad and that scared them enough to leave as soon as they helped their friend get up.

When they were finally alone, Ivar turned back to face Eva, thinking he probably scared her off as well. Yet there she was and the next second he knew, Eva launched herself at him, giving him an unexpected firm hug. He definitely hadn't seen that coming.

“Thank you” As she stepped back, she looked a little embarrassed as if realising a boundary had been crossed “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot” She blushed. “I’m glad you texted me”

“I didn't know who else to text… I don’t know many people in this city yet.”

“Do these guys hang around here much?”

“Sometimes” she bit her lip nervously. “Tonight was the first time they tried to come for me. I usually don’t do night shifts alone”

For a moment he wondered what could’ve happened. Anger build up within him, making him wish he’d beat the crap out of those stupid guys.

“I don’t think they’ll try again. If they do, they’ll have to do deal with me”

“Again, I really do not know how to thank you enough, Ivar”

“It was no trouble” he replied, with a smile that made him look more handsome than ever, or so she thought.

“It was trouble. Are you hurt?” Again, without thinking, she came closer to him inspecting concernedly “Are you hurt? You head butted that guy strong”

“I’m fine, don’t worry”

“Well, I am worried. Let me at least give you some ice”

He followed her inside and sat waiting for her to return with a bag of ice. The inside of the coffee shop was welcomingly warm in sharp contrast to how cold he didn’t realize was outside. “Lean back” she instructed and he followed suit, putting his head back. Eva had to stand so close to him that her body touched his as she placed the ice bag gently on the swelling of his chin. She bent over him, her lips puckered in serious concentration as she tried not to hurt him. Other than his mother, no one had ever been so gentle with him before. Gradually as he takes in her closeness, he smells her perfume, surprised that it is something spicy, sweet and lovely altogether.

“I’m sorry you got hurt. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”

“This is nothing. I grew up the youngest of many brothers. Can you imagine how many times we wrestled while growing up?”

She smiled, causing him to do so as well. After how he treated her the last time they met, he thought she wouldn’t feel comfortable with him again, but it didn’t feel that way. He felt...at ease with her. Just like he did when they had first met.

Eventually, as Eva released the ice bag, their distance grew a bit. Ivar had to keep himself from growling in disappointment.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed after looking at the time and jumping to grab her things “The last bus just went by. Fuck!”

“Let me drive you home. There’s no way I was going to let you wait for another bus anyways”

“I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore. You already had quite a share”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t take no for an answer”

Driving her home took longer than he imagined. She lived almost out of town, which made him figure it would be around forty minutes by bus. Driving took a little less time. Time which they did mostly in silence, although it looked as both wanted to start a conversation without really knowing how.

“You can drop me off here”

“Are you sure?” There didn't seem to be many houses there, mostly warehouses and shops.

“Yes, I live nearby.”

“I can drop you off at your doorstep” She seemed troubled which made him guess “You don’t want to be seen with me”

“It’s complicated, Ivar”

“You said that last time” he snorted, disappointed once again.

“You’re right. I did.”

“You have a look on your face that tells me you’re about to say sorry again”

“Well, I was. I am.” How had he read her so easily? “I wish I could explain it better. I can get in trouble if my family realizes something happened and that I took your ride. That is all. Ivar, I really owe you thanks for your help” her hand reached his instinctively. Eva looked up at him with a thankful gaze before getting out of the car.

He watched as she disappeared in the distance and drove off afterwards, not knowing how to feel about all of this. He had wanted to talk to her, learn more about her, ask her what was going on and on what terms they were on. He wanted to ask her if she’d text him again.

He wanted to tell her he wanted her to.

To his amazement, she did. Text him, that is. He was already in bed when his phone bipped.

‘I really thank you, especially for helping me out twice already. I promise trouble doesn’t usually follow me so often… I also want to apologize for the way I approached you at the beginning. I'm sorry about that. Let me know how I can make it up to you. Good dreams, Ivar.’

That night he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Tags: @adrille88 @istorkyou @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius

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#knocked up fic #my fiction #vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fic #modern vikings #modern vikings au #modern ivar #modern ivar au #ivar #ivar the boneless #ragnarssons #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar x original female character #fanfic #fic #fanfiction

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