#on one hand I understand the shelters need money

[l3irdl3rain]

save me senior cat on petfinder, save me

[15minlatewithbatbucks]

It's forty minutes into the latest state of the company press conference and Bruce has had to mute his mic entirely to avoid being turned into a meme AGAIN for sighing too much at his own event. For all that he's spent almost 20 years coaching his own children on not making scenes, he's really not much better. It's hot and he doesn't want to be here. His ribs hurt. He's tired. He's hungry. He's every excuse Dick or Jason have trotted out over the years.

(Tim understands company manners and can almost always be trusted to stick it out as long as he's allowed to vent his frustrations afterwards. He's recently taken to smashing ugly thrifted dishes. Stephanie and Damian have been collecting any ceramic not entirely pulverized and turning them into pavers for Alfred's garden.)

(Bruce gave up after Tim. He really only needs one kid to tag along to social events. If the kid start to outnumber him they start getting IDEAS.)

His distraction is why it takes two very rude repetitions of his name for him to take notice at the young reporter pushing his way to the front. Lucius stands, cutting off the project manager currently presenting and speaks into the mic.

"Please keep hold all questions until the end of the presentation, thank you."

"Mr. Wayne," the reporter tries again and Bruce waves away Lucius's further protests.

"Can I help you?" He asks, smiling with the full force of Brucie Wayne's charm behind it. It's been awhile since his last scandal, but if the press is inventing drama then it's less work for him.

The man holds up a photograph almost accusingly. He reeks of gotcha journalism.

Bruce squints towards him, unable to fully make out the contents of the photo. Dick may have been right when he gently suggested Bruce add glasses to his Brucie Wayne persona but that was a hill Bruce was still willing to die on. It was bad enough he had to have a prescription COWL.

"What do you have to say about the presence of your adopted son, Timothy Drake at the illegal mob in Robinson Park last Saturday?"

"Drake-Wayne," Bruce corrected because Tim hyphenated, damn it. He was the first of his children to let Bruce tag the Wayne name on and it mattered, damn it. "Wait do you mean-"

"How about reports of him kissing a man while there?"

"A blond man?" Bruce asked, finally giving up and crossing to take the photo for himself. "Oh. No, that's his boyfriend."

There was a beat of silence before Bruce realized his mistake. Just as the reporters began to squall, he dropped the blurry photo and began to speed walk off, phone suddenly in hand.

Through the podium's microphone, the gathered reporters heard one thing as Bruce evacuated the immediate vicinity.

"Tim? Don't be mad."

---

Despite Bruce's best efforts, he becomes a meme.

---

Immediately following the bombshell that Timothy Drake-Wayne had a boyfriend, social media blows up, clamoring for more information. They're ravenous for it, desperate. Tim doesn't have a personal social media presence but they stalk his professional accounts religiously. Bruce does have personal social media, but he maintains radio silence.

In the end, a Gotham based "influencer" stumbles across Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne getting donuts at Kosher Donuts and Co. Dick is personable, as always, and stops to speak with the young woman briefly.

"Yeah, Tim wasn't mad," he laughs when asked. "Just disappointed. But man, he knows how to milk it."

"Bruce is in the doghouse, huh?" she asks, full of false sympathy.

"A little bit," Dick says as Damian mumbles, "Titus would never share."

"But," Dick continued. "Tim's spun it so Bruce is on the hook for like, half a million in donations for local LGBT charities. Tim says it would hurt less if he sponsored a new shelter too, so that's something to look forward to."

"That's a lot of money! Where's it all going?"

"Oh you know," Dick says and gestures vaguely. "A lot of different programs."

"Yeah? Anything you personally want to see done with the funding?"

"Drag story time," Damian answers before Dick can. He looks intense. "But not for children. For dogs. In the shelter."

---

A day later, Tim breaks the silence. He goes live on Bruce's Instagram.

"So the problem was that Bruce thought the reporter was saying I was being unfaithful," Tim explains. "He totally forgot I wasn't out to everyone yet. Bruce was just worried because he's already told me if I break up with my boyfriend, he's not uninviting him from any future family events."

"Luckily, I was in fact just kissing my boyfriend at PRIDE. Just because people got shifty with the permits at the last second because of protestors doesn't make it an illegal mob. If you wanna hear about Wayne's and illegal mobs, talk to Dickie about his younger years. Nothing I do can compare."

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate - (4)

First Case of Alpha Space

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 4 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 4132

Work count for Story: 16,244

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I have had to take time off work to accommodate many MANY doctor appointments. I started a Ko-fi if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, Panic attacks, comfort, Alpha Space, and Cultural differences.

Story Summary: The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?

Is it really that big of a deal that you got hurt? My god, you were 35 already. You have never lived a sheltered life. You have had your fair share of broken bones, twisted ankles, scrapes, and bruises. 

You are always going on adventures, riding horses, and climbing things you probably should not be climbing. The external scars you bear are associated with stories that are good conversation starters when you feel like showing them. 

Things would be difficult for a while because you are right-handed. You have a few days of sick time saved up that you can use to start with. Hopefully, this will help you gain some kind of compliance from your award left hand. 

Work, however, is going to be the hard part. Luckily, your work is typically done on electronics, meaning nothing has to be handwritten. Even if you tried to write left-handed, no one could read it. You would bet money doctors had better writing than you did. Dictation software to save the day!

Hearing Derek’s voice broke you out of your thoughts regarding your near future. Watching him act cautiously while interacting with the other hybrid was interesting. There is clearly a difference in how he acts with Yoongi than Evie. Giggling to yourself at the mention of being a mate with Derek gains the attention of both. 

“Oh, sorry. The thought of being a mate, much less to Derek, was amusing, I guess.” 

You missed the slight frown that briefly graced both men’s faces. Derek thought you were implying he wasn’t mate material, and Yoongi thought you believed you were not worthy of being a mate.                  

“Thanks Y/n. I let you know that I am a catch despite being a Beta. Besides, this isn’t about me right now. We need to get the leadership involved with what to do moving forward. Are you okay if we bring in the others?”

“Yes, please. I need to speak with Director Johnson, fill out an incident report… um or dictate an incident report, and then get to a doctor.” Attempting to stand up, you are blocked by the golden-yellow eyes that have not stopped watching your every move.

”Mr. Min, I need to get some things done and take care of my wrist.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, and a soft growl pours through the room, causing your eyes to widen. You look over your shoulder at Derek with a ‘what-the-F-did-I-do’ expression, only to be met with a smirk.

“Y/n, I don’t think you understand what is going on. You haven’t dealt with a situation like this before. You may love hybrids but you still have limited interactions with our culture and this dynamic.”

Walking backward toward the door, Derek continues, “With the state of mind that Mr. Min is in, it might be best if a packmate explains.”

Derek opens the break room door to face Hoseok, Teahyung, Namjoon, and Jungkook, who are all staring. “Oh, Hi there.”

Then, as if someone had turned the mute off, they all started talking simultaneously. 

“Is Yoongi-hyung dropped yet?”

“그 사람 괜찮아요?”

“Why does she still smell hurt?”

“Wait, wait, wait, please,” Derek puts his hands up, motioning to stop.

“I do not know Korean for one and for two Mr. Min has gone into full non-verbal Alpha Space and I  am not sure he will be coming out of it anytime soon. However, one of you should go in to handle the situation  and she needs to talk with Director Johnson.”

At the mention of the director, a low growl came from Taehyung, causing Derek to take a step back and lower his eyes in an automatic response to a displeased Alpha.

The scent of calming leather gently flows over the group at the door as Namjoon steps forward. His mind is still reeling a million miles a second with you being their mate and you being injured. To top it off, Yoongi is on a deep level of Alpha Space.

“Sorry about that. I can come in, but the director is busy at the moment dealing with the playmates, corporate office, and Manager Sejin,” Namjoon apologizes as he enters the room.

He follows Derek to where his packmate and Y/n are situated at a table. Taehyung and Jungkook follow quickly.

They both kneel respectfully behind Yoongi. Their Alphas recognize that Yoongi is currently in charge of you, and it would be unwise to display anything that could be considered a threat by approaching you too quickly.

They both need to be close to you, and their instincts to be with their injured mate drive their actions. Looking you over for injuries, their eyes resting on your wrist with furrowed brows and set jaws. 

Taehyung’s eyes change to crystal blue as his tail flickers almost in time with Yoongi’s as he slips into Alpha Space. 

“Namjoon-hyung, Y/n is hurt. She needs a hospital, I think,” Jungkook says, his ears standing straight up on his head, one-pointedly focused on you and the other twitching between his Prime Alpha and the door. 

“It is not that big of an issue, Mr. Jeon, Mr. Min, and Mr. Kim.” Looking up from the trio in front of you and addressing the Prime Alpha, “Sir, I have specific protocols to follow due to company procedure. I have to talk with the Director.” 

A growl from one of the men in front of you freezes your words, unsure of what you did to cause their reactions. Internally, you groan because it seems all you get from them are growls, as if you vex them more than you humanly possible. 

“Miss Y/n, we have already talked to Director Johnson,” Namjoon says with a look of distaste. 

“He has been informed that you are now under the care of Bangtan Pack following hybrid customs.  It would be wise to refrain from talking about him at the moment, he did not leave a good impression with the pack.”

Your brows scrunch in confusion, making the hybrids want to coo at your cute face. Clearing his throat (aka his mind), Namjoon continues, “We have more pressing matters to attend to besides paperwork.” 

“You are injured, and we have to get you to a doctor. Manager Sejin is currently contacting one of our personal physicians that we normally use while on tour to have you treated.”

“What? Why would I use your doctor? I can just go to the local clinic.” Your scent spikes almost like a heavy perfume with anxiety with the flashbacks of your nightmare. 

“Please, I have taken up much of your time, and caused enough problems as it is. I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be a bother.”

At your words, you are surrounded by multiple growls and watched by now golden-yellow, crystal blue, and smokey gray eyes. Scooting back in the chair, you nervously ask, “Derek, what did I do?”

“Y/n, you really don’t get it do you? For as smart as you are, sometimes you can be oblivious.” He smiles and shakes his head, stepping back from the group and heading towards the door.

“Mr. Kim, as Prime Alpha, you might want to explain what is happening and what she should be expecting. Mind you, she has been fiercely independent for the last 15 years of her life.”

“I wish you the best with her. It won’t be easy, trust me, I know. Good Luck.” Derek bows slightly to Namjoon once he reaches the break room door.

Looking at you again, this time with a smile filled with adoration for his best friend and what he thinks your future may hold, Derek says, “Relax and have fun.” Then he turns and leaves the room. 

As Derek leaves the room, he smiles at the remaining pack guarding the door. “Mr. Kim, Mr. Jung, and Mr.Park, I think your human does not understand what is happening.”

“Our human? So you know?” Seokjin questions with wide, cautious eyes.

Derek looks over his shoulder at the closed break room door. “At first, I thought it was just a typical Alpha reaction with him being the cause of Y/n getting injured, but his care and gentleness seemed to come from somewhere deeper. Add on the fact that your other two are fighting Alpha space. It would be hard to miss.”

“The other two?” someone asks.

Shaking his head, Derek looks back at the remaining three. “Yes, the younger Mr. Kim and Mr. Jeon’s Alphas surfaced just before I left. Your Prime Alpha is going to try to sort things out, but he may need some back up.”

“Meanwhile I am going to find our boss and see what needs to be done before you all run  away with her.” Derek leaves the pack to mull over the new information.

“Tae has never been one to control his Alpha well when one of us is hurt. I am not surprised if he slipped once near her. Kook always runs on instinct too, so it makes sense he slipped as well,” Seokjin contemplates. 

“Should we stay out here? Miss y/n’s pack member said it would be better to go in and help Namjoon? Three of us in Alpha space with an injured mate is not going to be easy,” Hoseok adds. 

Nibbling on his lower lip, Jimin thinks of ways to handle the situation. Even though he is one of the younger packmates, keeping the pack calm is his gift. 

He just doesn’t know how to handle you yet, especially since you don’t know what you mean to the pack.

“Good, at least three of you are here, and I assume the rest have made their way into the room with Miss Y/n,” Manager Sejin says while walking up to the group. 

“I have spoken with Big Hit, the Director at Playmate Service Incorporated, and Dr. Blackwell. Everyone is onboard and the doctor is ready to go.”

“Thank you,” Seokjin says, feeling relief that no one seems to be fighting this. “Namjoon is in with the rest of the pack and Miss Y/n, we should go in. From what Mr. Gulley says, Miss y/n does not seem to understand the situation to the fullest. I just hope that Namjoon can clear some things up.”

“Relax and have fun? What does he mean by that?” You mumble as you glare at the now-closed door that one of your best friends just shut. 

He willingly left you with four Alpha male idols. 

Three of them are kneeling on the floor with non-human eyes, and the Prime Alpha, looking around the room like the way to explain what's happening is painted on the walls.

Taking a breath, you say, “Mr. Kim, Prime Alpha… Sir. Derek is right. I have no actual experience with Alphas. I can tell that there must be some kind of instinctual drive going on, and there are trigger words or actions.”

“I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have. What do I do to make it easier for your pack?”

At your words, the kneeling Alphas gave a multitude of pleasant chirps. You looked at the three of them, a little confused. They seemingly smiled and made almost the same sound at what you said.

Okay, so they can growl and chirp. Your curiosity spikes when you think of what other animal-like sounds they can make as hybrids.

Drawing your attention back to him, Namjoon finds the words to explain what is happening, “Miss Y/n, you have done so much to help the Bangtan Pack feel welcome today.”

With a gentle smile, he continues, “So please relax, you have not caused any trouble, and we highly doubt that you will.” 

Thinking to himself, ‘At least, not in the way you seem to be thinking.’

“Alpha’s run with a higher level of instinct than your Beta packmember. As an Alpha, Yoongi instinctually feels responsible for your injury. In order to calm that instinct, a few things will most likely need to happen.” 

Watching as you seem to sit up with interest, he continues, “First things first, he and his Alpha need to get at least your injury treated.”

“He has to be the one to take me to get it treated? I can’t have him go with me to the clinic! There are fans and sasaengs and the media! What about your schedule? You always hear about the tight schedules Idols have and you have already spent all afternoon here over this.”

You start panicking about the hordes of people you hear about following the band around. God, the amount of bad publicity that would come from catching you and THE Suga of BTS at a clinic. You can’t imagine what nonsense they would come up with?

Your scent goes into an even heavier version; it takes on an almost alcoholic aspect. The kneeling Alphas instinctually send out calming pheromones while moving closer. 

Yoongi’s tail, still wrapped around your ankle, tightens while he gently rubs the back of your injured hand, which he is cradling protectively. 

Taehyung starts to purr softly, hoping that the sound will comfort you. 

Jungkook, on instinct alone, scoots up to your left side, nudges his head under your left hand, and rests on your leg.

The feeling of Jungkook’s head on your leg snaps you out of your thoughts and brings you back into the room. You hold still as you start to recognize similar comforting behaviors the Alphas are doing with those that Evie always does, allowing you to take a deep breath.

“Sorry. I was raised to take care of myself and not impose on others.”

“Miss Y/n, you are not imposing. Again, Yoogni ran into you while rushing out of the room, and it's his responsibility to make amends. Actually, as a bonded pack, it is our responsibility, too.”

“The pack? Like all of you? Is this why they are all like this, with their eyes and stuff?” 

Absent-mindedly, you run your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, softly scratching his scalp, soothing not only yourself but also the youngest Alpha. 

A soft chuckle escapes Namjoons as he watches your instinctual interactions with the youngest mate. “Yes, that is the best way to explain the eyes and stuff, as you put it.”

“Jungkook and Taehyung will find it easier to leave their Alpha Space since they are not the ones responsible for the injury but trying to be supportive to both of you.” 

Hearing a knock on the door, he calls, “Who is it?”

“Namjoon-ssi, it's Manager Sejin. I have some updates and a few questions. Can I enter?” The door opens slightly to reveal it’s him. 

At Namjoon's nod, he enters. The door remains open as the scents in the room are constricting in their density. He is followed by the rest of the pack, who take up guarding now from inside.

“Did you contact everyone?”

“Big Hit and the Corporate Director are on the same page and will follow the hybrid protocol, but details must be discussed once Miss Y/n has met with the doctor,” Manager Sejin reports to the Prime Alpha.

Moving to look at you, he continues, “I contacted Dr. Blackwell, thinking you may be more comfortable with a female doctor.” 

Glancing at the boys surrounding you closely, his scent changes with curiosity. He raises an eyebrow, looking at Namjoon. With a subtle nod, he confirms that something more is happening but does not move to explain.

Looking back at you, he gently smiles, “With the situation at hand, it may be best to limit other males around you until everyone is out of Alpha space. They tend to get territorial. Dr. Blackwell is on standby, ready to assess and treat you once we know where you will be.”

“Why wouldn’t she just come here, or I go to her?”

“Miss Y/n, Dr. Blackwell is a traveling physician. She doesn’t have a permanent office to use but she is well respected in both the human and hybrid communities.”

“Oh, I see. Well, umm…” you look at Namjoon and ask, “What option would be best for your pack?”

Namjoon’s chest puffs slightly at your show of respect to him as the Pack Prime Alpha despite the situation and your pain level. “Not to make you uncomfortable, Miss Y/n, but I think meeting Dr. Blackwell at our AirBnB would be best.”

You take a moment to think, your hand pulsing with pain. They cannot all fit in your flat; it's a mess after you tore through your closet to find the right clothes for today.

They don’t seem to like being here. Instinctually, even Derek and Evie prefer being in their dens when one of the three of you is hurt or sick. 

“Okay. If it is best for the pack, then I will go with you to the AirBnB and see Dr. Blackwell.” 

It’s almost as if a weight is lifted out of the room, allowing the pack to take a breath. 

“Yoon, Kook, and Tae. Can you give Miss Y/n some room? We have to take her to the pack house to see a doctor,” Namjoon says with a firm voice, gaining smiles from the men kneeling on the floor. 

Jungkook stands and curls into the Prime Alpha, his eyes returning to their natural color.

Taehyung rocks back on his heels but remains near. His body is more relaxed and his eyes are still crystal blue, shifting between Yoongi and you in wait.

After watching the two younger Alphas move around, your attention turns to the Jaguar kneeling with expectant but questioning eyes. 

 “Mr. Min, if I promise that you can stay with me, will you let me go get my things and then you can take me to the pack house?”

Yoongi’s face lights up with a gummy smile as he nods. Your breath hitches at the sight. How can the devastatingly handsome rapper look so adorable?

He stands up, his tail unwrapping from your leg. He softly takes both of your hands while he assists you in standing. You smile and mumble a small thanks as you step forward to leave.

“Prime Alpha, do you think I can talk with Derek briefly to let him know what is happening? This way he can talk to the direc… Boss. Talk to the boss and let him know that I am leaving for the day?”

“Yes, talking to him will be fine. He has been established as part of your familial pack and won’t be considered a threat to the pack if he comes around you now,” Namjoon answers, moving out of your way and motioning for the rest to let you pass.

Bowing slightly, “Thank you, Prime Alpha.”

Making it to your desk is more complicated than one would think. 

Yoongi won’t leave your right side, while Taehyung won’t leave your left. Both act like it's code red and someone is trying to assassinate you. Then you have the rest of BTS trailing behind like some kind of posse. 

You keep your head down to avoid any strange looks or glares from whomever you pass. To your relief, you find Derek waiting at your desk with his head resting on his palms and a mischievous smile. 

“I see you are taking things in stride,” glancing at your plethora of bodyguards. “Did the Prime Alpha explain everything to you?”

Speaking up from the back of the group, Namjoon answers for you, “She is aware that we are responsible for her at this time and she will be treated at our temporary pack house by our doctor.”

You don’t miss Derek's look of concern as he tilts his head with curiosity at Namjoon. “I see, of course. You are just responsible for getting her treated.”

“Derek, can you please let the big boss know that I will be leaving with Bangtan Pack to seek medical care and once I have more updates I will let you both know?” 

Glancing at Yoongi and still seeing his lovely golden-yellow eyes, you try to ignore the slight flutter in your stomach, “I don’t think it would be good for me to talk with him myself still.”

Derek nods in response, “Manager Sejin has already given the boss a rough time frame for the near future. I suppose his managing skills came in handy. Don’t worry about us here. We can handle it while you heal.”

Standing up, Derek passes you your purse, which Taehyung takes. You try to grab it again, but only to have a black and white tail wrap around your arm and bring it back down to your side.

“No carry. Keep safe.” Taehyung almost grunts out in a deeper-than-deep voice, which short-circuits your brain.

Glancing at Derek out of the side of your eye, you see him briefly nod and smile encouragingly while he whispers, “It’s an Alpha Space thing. Best acknowledge his help.”

“Umm… Th-tha-hank you, Alpha,” you stammer out, willing the heat creeping up your neck to stop as your words pull a boxy grin from the Tiger.

“I think that is it,” you announce to nobody in particular. You smile awkwardly at Derek as he slowly approaches you.

“Y/n, you have been through so much. Not just today but in your life. You have always been the one to take the blame for others, working harder or longer than anyone else and caring for those who never return the favor.”

His eyes glance at the men surrounding you as he sees nods of understanding and looks of concern from them.

As a soft smile blooms on his face, he holds onto your good hand, “Take time for yourself and let this pack of Alphas take care of you. You deserve it more than anyone else I know.”

He pulls you into a hug. You briefly stiffen, waiting for the growling and pulling to start, but to your surprise, it doesn't. Relaxing into his hug, you take his words to heart.

A soft whisper in your ear, “You know you will always have Evie and me as your family pack, but right now, be open to the pack around you,” with one last squeeze, Derek steps back and returns to your desk.

“Now, shoo! Off you go. The boss said I’ll get to man the front desk for now.”

With a nod, you wave goodbye and face the hybrids behind you. After not finding Manager Sejin and a few others missing,  your eyes settle automatically on Namjoon, waiting for a clue as to what to do next. 

“Manager Sejin went down to get the cars. Seokjin-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Jimin also went down because we won’t all fit in the elevator.”

“Oh,” you feel a slight tightening in your chest after realizing you didn’t even notice they had gone.

“Miss Y/n, let's take you to get looked at,” Junkook says while inching towards the office doors.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry, I have everything. Lead the way.” 

You follow the bunny and wolf hybrid while still sandwiched between the tiger and jaguar. Walking through the halls, you gain some attention from the people you pass. 

You’re a mere human surrounded by some of the hottest Idols in the world right now. So why wouldn’t they?

Not willing to look up, you keep your eyes cast down to the feet in front of you as you try to avoid what you are a gazillion percent sure are looks of disgust and hate towards you.

Once the elevator doors open, the tiger lets out a low growl. Glancing up, you see two fellow PMS employees quickly scamper out of the elevator and down the hall. 

That added to the embarrassment for now and when you return to work.

Namjoon and Jungkook take the back corners. Looking at the men by your sides, they motion for you into the elevator next. 

However, when you go to stand in another corner, you are quickly ushered back into the middle with Yoongi and Taehyung in front of you. 

The energy calms down as the doors close. The four Alphas relax now that they surround you and will start taking care of you. 

Even if your trust in them starts with an injury, they know this is their chance to show you what it means to be taken care of, acknowledged as precious, and loved endlessly by the seven of them. 

As the doors part, you're greeted by the remaining packmates waiting for you, smiles warm and welcoming. They're surrounded by more men in black, whom you assume are bodyguards. 

Turning to look at you, Yoongi speaks for the first time since he entered Alpha Space,  “Take home. Keep safe.”

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[insuke69]

What's in a name?

✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader

Part I, Part II

1/3

Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.

✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, misunderstandings.

(mostly based on how earth-138 is)

Rated 13+(??).

✰5.7k words.

⚥Afab reader

_________________

Osborn.

“Norman Osborn”

A name everyone has learned for the worst part, the name ‘Osborn’ has run though the streets of Camden through the blood and dirt that drips through its pristine and marble image, spoken like the candyman–as if it were uttered three times, they’d be cursed and face the consequences. The man who hated the poor and less fortunate that were scattered through England. The man who kept his paws clean by hiring those who needed the money, then turning them into the crooked police for the crimes he made them do. The cruel family man who’s destroyed homeless shelters and remade them into his own buildings for business, legal or not.

“(Y/N) Osborn.”

Here she was. The daughter of this monster, the girl who receives bloody money that her father steals from the innocent, The daughter who people are afraid to even talk to out of fear of her dad, the girl who can’t refuse what she’s given because she understands how much worse it can be. That doesn’t stop her from still trying as much as she can. Sneaking out of her mansion most nights to try and get a taste of college parties. Whenever she goes out during the day with her dad’s black card, She spends it on clothes and gives it away to those she knows really needs it, always wearing a face-covering balaclava so her father doesn’t somehow find this out. Instead of the piano lessons she attended where her fingers gracefully flowed between those white elegant tiles to create beautiful classical music–she tried to learn the electric guitar, mostly teaching herself to the rhythmic sounds and rough rumble of the guitar that Hobie Brown wields.

“Hobie Brown“

A name recognized as well throughout Camdon but for the exact opposite reasons, a name that drips with earned respect, a firm rough hardwood image that's covered in stuck-out nails and splinters. A Punk that directly strives against fascists like Osborn, and who’s blood boils when he learns Osborn’s cruel plans to begin using the old Canals again–mostly to flush out the homeless that reside there, The homeless who Spiderpunk always seems to be visiting and helping out.

“Spiderpunk” 

Oh. Spiderpunk. A name Y/N can recognise due to her father’s phone calls that she overhears late at night, a name she always hears that is spit out with venom through her fathers and his colleagues lips, the name she sees in bold graffiti almost daily on her dads main company building. Jet black graffiti and red with blue undertones that drip almost beautifully down the glass panes it was sprayed upon. She always bites back a grin smile whenever she hears her dad ranting about the punk he ever so clearly despises.

_____________

Rough Meeting.

It was one of those days, those days where you despised everything in your life–that was unlucky, bad luck of yours to have been born in this universe. Bad luck that you were the daughter of a sadistic monster, how you were seen as a monster for even being related to him.

Guilt.

Rage.

Frustration.

These emotions burned through your veins, making your hands tense and chest heavy. These emotions pool in your eyes the moment you walk through your large white bedroom door and crash into your Jado Steel Style Rose-Gold Bed. Your tense body relaxing but messy black mascara tears flowing down your face. Nobody understood, it's like you were speaking their language on deaf ears that didn’t care to hear you out. They didn’t care to hear out the brat, The Spoiled girl who has her life handed to her, the brat that no matter how hard she tries-

Can’t prove anything to everyone who is dead set on her being a spoiled daddy’s girl.

With boiling tears drying upon your soft smooth skin, You get up and change out of the clothes your main ‘Maid’, Roxanne, had put out for you earlier for your Dads event of a damn Factory opening that was built over another destroyed shelter. Removing the ruffle black dress with small cute green ribbons to show off your dads company colors along for him to display his gorgeous daughter. It’s not like he cared for anyone's image besides his own anyways.

Glancing at the clock, you sigh and dip your head into the pillow again,

6:36pm

You take a calming breath and change into some jeans and a loose black tee after crying some more for a few moments, the shirt only allowed for you to wear at home since it wasn’t perfect and elegant enough for the Osborn image. Ugh. You enter your private marble bathroom to wash your face free of those streaks of ‘weakness’ as your dad would call it. 

“Hey! Uhm, Roxy?” You call out softly, your door soon opening with Roxanne standing by it and looking over at you expectantly.

“Yes, Miss?” Roxy said back in her usual calm and blank expression, her expression shifting ever so slightly at the sight of you wearing your usual clothing you do whenever you plan on sneaking out without Osborn knowing.

“Don’t let father see me going out, if he asks about me, tell him that I’m upset and tired from the event and to not disturb me.” you tell her as you reach under your bed to grab a shoebox where your balaclava, hoodie, and gloves are stored and hidden away. You wish you didn’t have to wear all this just to be an actually not-bad person, but you can’t risk angering your dad. He always told you to never dwell on what has to be done. 

“It’s a dog eat dog world, You can’t cry about others who don’t have the guts to do what has to be done.”

Those words are always playing in the back of your head, your own dad telling it to you soothingly to help stop your tears–when you were about eight. You were crying because you were thinking about the lives he’s ruined and took for you two. Well.. More like for Oscorp. 

You snap out of that memory as you clear your throat and put everything on to hide the safety of your identity while Roxy watches with that neutral face you’ve seen and known your whole life. She’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to a mother, by textbook definition because she brought you up with care and some affection. But your actual birth mom had died while giving birth to you, you never met her once besides the moment she passed with you in her arms. Since then, Your dad has seen you as if you were the last living part of her that he has besides memories and pictures of her. He's always telling you that you’re her spitting image but you just.. Can’t see it. Probably because she is always glowing and happy in her pictures with anyone, she had a normal college student experience with friends and parties, she didn’t have an overprotective dad. 

You roll the glove over your wrist, pausing ever so slightly at a white gold bracelet your dad gave you when you turned thirteen, with your grandmas and mother’s name engraved into it, and yours engraved below theirs. An important and old heirloom to your dad since he wants you to always remain in touch with your moms side of the family–not like your dad spent much time with his family anyways.

“When are you going to get over this phase?” You suddenly hear Roxy ask from behind you which makes you jump ever so slightly before subtly moving it a bit lower on your wrist so the bracelet chain does not get caught in the fabric of the gloves.

“You really want me to answer that?” You ask rhetorically before fixing the balaclava over your features while walking to your window and sitting on the sil, Kicking your legs out and looking out on the city and lowering sun before actually answering Roxy, realizing she sounded even a little.. Disappointed.. in you.

“The Osborn name has done- Irreversible damage, And I’m just trying to help out the people who need it, and pay for my dads actions with actual kindness.” Your tone is soft and a bit honest, you adjust your hands to push yourself out of the window before Roxy can even reply. 

Your thick black boots break your landing as you fall in the green fluffy grass garden that surrounds your mansion, rose bushes and flowers adding some color to it since your dad agreed it would look good for our image, as if it wasn’t soiled already.

You make your way out of your house and just walk, stopping by an old tree that stood beside the path from your house to the city. Your foot stands on a nook where the tree had a brach that went out and folded in itself and your hand stretched up into one of its hard woodend pockets until you feel a familiar fabric, you pull on it until the backpack falls out with your hand holding it by the handle and hopping off of the tree.

This was your secret backpack that you didn’t even want on your own property so you kept it safe in a tree. This bag contained little necessities along with spray paint, some basic tools, cash, and pepper spray. You keep walking down the path and arriving at the city, where the air was polluted and slightly hard to breathe while the rest of the city had occasional litter, trash, and shady looking people who make it seem like it's better to walk across the street to the other sidewalk. 

You usually went out at night to be able to put some of your art on display in the streets: You had a sketchbook full of small things that you usually spray-painted on canals, or outside the wall of abandoned buildings. You didn’t know what this secret ‘hobby’ was really called, you just walked the streets of the city until you found a good spot and started to make your art. 

Nothing was out of the ordinary until you walked past an alleyway and in the corner of your eye, you saw someone in dirty clothes wearing messed up jeans and a worn out jacket, sitting on the ground outside a little blue tent with a small fire in a bin that lights up some of the alley.

You come to a small halt and debate whether walking over to the person or leaving them alone, your vision focusing in the dim lighting and revealing the other few tents there, some of the tents zipped up and indicating that whoever is in there is sleeping, and some people standing around with a lit cigarette in their calloused hand.

You swallow that gut feeling to leave them alone and walk over to a gas station, buying some instant pizza, sandwiches, and food for the people you told yourself not to bother and walk back over to them with the plastic bag in hand. 

You approach the person you saw, but they look over at you and seem to tense and quickly stand as they face you.

“Hey! Hi, relax, I brought some things for you and your friends?” You said with a gentle soft tone as you stepped closer slowly since the vagabond seemed wary of you with their eyes locked on your face.

“Oh! Damn, I forgot, hang on.” You murmur as you reach up to pull your mask over your eyes to show your face so that the person would be less afraid of you, holding out the bag of food.

Their face changes into a grimace, as if disgusted at how you’re trying to help them out. Recognizing you as the creation they and their whole community despised due to the cruel name that comes after your first.

Osborn

They grimace at you and stare at you as if you were the one trying to drive them out of the city. The one that’s destroying non-profit shelters, as if it were your company that’s dumping all kinds of waste to the community- but that didn’t seem to have any matter to them anyways. 

Staring at you like you were some Monster.

“You’re not welcome here.” The person murmurs with a coldness and genuine hatred in their tone, sharp like an icicle that cuts through your heart sharply. It’s not like you couldn’t understand that, they didn’t know anything about you besides what your dad has done.

Before you can respond, they continue as they walk closer to you with their hands fisted to their sides,

“You aren’t welcome anywhere around here, you don’t even know what has been going on here, ‘princess’. You’re just some brat who needs some kind of sick ego boost to try and make people love you and respect your image.” Each word spat like venomous cold spikes as they gesture one of their hands, as they get closer–you can see the other people in the alley look over and seem to tense up and get worried in some way.

“I know what my father does, I’m so s-” You begin as you take a step back, but being cut off be the person speaking louder with exasperation in their tone.

“No you don’t! You don’t have any idea what Norman is even doing to us! You just sit there and look pretty while your dad is ruining lives!” And if there weren’t other people around- well, if there weren't one of their friends, a girl with baggy jeans and a gray beanie holding them back, you don’t question what would’ve happened to you or what they would’ve done if that girl wasn’t holding them back. 

“Dude..” The girl whisper yelled as she pulled the person yelling at you away from you and closer to herself, “What the hell are you doing? Don’t piss her off because she’ll tell her dad and he’ll fuck over each and everyone in this damn alleyway.” and she swats them on the shoulder.

Damn.

You really are just ‘daddy’s girl’.

You stay quiet and just place down the bag of treats and just walk off, out of the alleyway. Feeling the earlier emotions come to a boil once again as you fix the balaclava back on your face and walk down the pavement of the dimly lit street.

Rage.

Guilt.

Frustration.

With your eyes prickling with tears and resurfaced emotions following, you decide to walk to a part to calm down as the hot watered sadness drips from your eyes, down your cheeks and soaking into the fabric covering your face.

You find yourself here. Late at night. Silently sobbing your eyes out on a cold metallic bench you vividly remember your dad showing it to you when you were a kid.

You were about seven and you had fallen off a swing set and scraped your knee badly, you still have it slightly scarred on your knee if you looked for it enough.

Hot tears because of the burning pain on your soft flesh, you were sitting in this exact spot as your small hands were holding up your black and white striped leggings with your leg up, and Roxy tending to your wound with your dad sitting right beside you with his hand on his shoulder.

“You were reckless, and your mistake cost you. You don’t want to be getting hurt,” He begins before gently taking your chin with his calloused hand and making you look at him through sniffled sobs, “and you can’t be showing this weakness unless you want it to hurt you later on.” Your dad continued as he wiped away your tears with his leathery thumb brushing against your babyfat-filled cheeks.

And Now.

Crying like now you always did, as if you didn’t change. Still that little girl who only knows one thing: how to cry.

You sit back and hold your legs with your face in your knees, it's like everything that has been being held in–caused by your father or not.. Was crashing down and flooding your eyes like a broken dam through a canal. The balaclava grew damp before you hear an odd THWAP sound which makes you raise your head and look in the direction of the sound.

You see a familiar man with his gaze focused on you, wearing what seems to be a red spandex suit below a torn blue t-shirt and black ripped jeans that accentuate his already skinny and lanky body with a spiked leather jacket over his shoulders with several pins that decorate the chest  and a spiked mohawk on his head.

Once you notice him approaching you quickly reach your hand under the balaclava to wipe your cheeks from the excess tears, internally grateful that your mask was already dark and the moisture from your tears won’t be too visible to this man.

“Excuse me? You- you alrigh’?” The man asks, his soft yet cockney voice immediately making you recall who this man specifically was: You’ve heard his booming words at protest rallies but never saw from who the vocal fighting came from because of your dad and his security quickly ushering you away to keep you safe–or to keep you unaware of your father’s negative popularity. 

You sniffle for a second before answering “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a shitty night.” while you clutch your bag a bit closer to you since he was still a stranger to you. He sees you tense and he chuckles while shaking his head and putting his hands into his pockets.

“Calm down there, ‘m just making sure you’re not some dealer tryna make bad lives worse.” He says jokingly as he glances at the bag you’re clutching, but also at your body language, “You’ve gotta understand how it looks for me, to find some masked person sitting in a bench in the crappy part of town.” His voice was playful yet gentle as if to calm you, he had some kind of charm that made him seem almost easy to talk to–especially since this is the first conversation you’ve had in a while that wasn’t swayed against you due to your name.

“And imagine how this looks for me, some dude walking up to me as I’m sat happily on a park bench.” You say back to him with a smirk under your mask.

“Touché.” He chuckled as he shook his head and stepped closer while offering his hand, “The Name’s Spiderpunk.” Once he introduced himself, you felt a splash of relief as he confirmed who he was. His name is said in his own way, in such a calm manner that contrasts the venomous words your father speaks of him when he thinks you can’t hear his disrespectful language. “And you are..?”

His body language is weirdly calm and relaxed, not at all judging you or making you uncomfortable.. Is that a green flag or a red one? You take and shake his gloved hand with yours. This was the only time a stranger wasn’t immediately hostile or rude to you, and you didn’t want to lose that. ..So what’s a little white lie?

“Emily.” You answer him with a soft nod. Your mothers name? Why say her name?

“Emily,” Spiderpunk echoed with a smile in his voice, “And uh.. Wha’s with the whole.. getup?” He asked as he gestured to you vaguely, mostly to your mask that's covering your face and only shows your dark eyes and long lashes, that were ever so slightly red and puffy because of the earlier crying.

“Don’t worry about it, just- lets just say my face around here is.. Disliked.” Because of my damn father. 

He nods slightly, if he has some kind of expression on his face then you can’t even tell what it is because of his mask, you open your mouth to at least try and ask about that but he continued without realizing he practically interrupted you: your face is equally as covered.

“And uh.. Not that I don’ believe ya for your word, but I’ll have ‘o check that bag.” He says while gesturing at your backpack that you're clutching against you.

What? What kind of request is that? It’s not like you’ve even done anything to prompt this question in the first place, and who is he to ask about the bag or something?

“What are you, a cop? Some kind of narc?” You ask with your tone slightly more hostile than you’d want it to be. It’s not like you’re hiding anything either, but you literally have money and spray paint: You can get in trouble for some vandalism you haven’t even done yet.

He pauses for a second, seeming genuinely offended that you accused him of being a cop, as if you called him something below the respect that even vermin have.

“No. Nothing of the sort, never compare me to a cop.” He tells you firmly before muttering under his breath, “fucking pigs.” and without warning, he thwips a white silky rope out of his wrist and it attaches itself to your bag and rips it from your grasp.

You find yourself staring at Spiderpunk as he starts to casually go through your bag as if it were nothing and like you fully offered it to him. He chuckles as he sees some of your spray paint, you hear the cans clink as he shoves his hand into it and checks everything out.

“Tha’s it? Here I was partly thinking you’re some dealer trying to make sure this part of camden stays ghetto, but nah,” He hands you back your bag–He seems mostly amused by the obvious grin in his voice, “You’re just a stree’ artist?”

Street artist? That's what it’s called? You always loved art ever since you were a kid–So your dad always provided you art lessons, good paint, expensive sketching pencils, but he always made you draw boring things like fruit bowls or paint sunsets. But you even one time helped him with ideas for the Oscorp logo! That was fun for you at the time before you knew the shit Oscorp was doing.

But you realize he was pretty much asking for you to confirm if you’re a street artist or not. “Yeah- Yeah, I’m a.. Street artist?” You respond as you take the bag back, not even knowing if you’re saying it right, but you shouldn’t rely on someone to teach you so you reword what you said with a bit more of a firm tone “Yeah. I’m a street artist, tonight I haven’t really done art though.”

He nods and stays quiet for a moment as he looks at your masked face before he looks around and holds out his hand for you as if to help you up.

“Come with me, I know a good spot where you can put up your stuff. I was on my way there anyway so I could show you.” He had this tone where you knew you could say no, swat his hand away and run, politely decline and leave, Something but.. 

“Sure.” 

You take his hand and stand before slinging your backpack handle over one of your shoulders. His mask hiding every bit of emotion he can possibly be showing besides the lenses over his eyes that squint slightly at an expression every once in a while but beyond that–you have to heavily rely on reading his tones and body language.

“Do you trust me?” He asked as he glanced over at you. He seemed like he wanted to do something and just wanted some of your approval. He seems strong and like he’s able to do a lot–and he leaves the decision all up to you.

With an unsure nod of your head, he pulls you closer and wraps his arm around your waist, "Hold on." He told you before shooting a web of his up to a building, your arms wrap around his neck–over his shoulders.

You shut your eyes tightly as you suddenly stop feeling the ground below your feet and cold air hitting and blowing against your body as you swing through the city and hold onto him for dear fucking life.

“My god, holy shit.” You say as you try not to yell but unable to be silent. Spiderpunk holds on to you with one strong slim arm around you and the other expertly shooting webs and slinging through the streets of Camden as if it's some common occurrence for him–well, it was.

Your vision is slightly blurred with the lights and the slight tears forming because of the dry wind blown against them. But before you know it–you’re on the ground again with a soft thud with Spiderpunk still holding onto you like it's nothing.

“You alrigh’?” He asks with some kind of smug tone that implies he somehow finds how you clung on to him amusing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It's just that not everyone is used to slinging through the air.” You respond sarcastically as you let go of his with his hand on your waist lingering for a second before it falls to his side and his other arm raising his hand to gesture where you guys are and you feel your stomach drop once you see a familiar green logo- no, a familiar cut ribbon as well.

This is the new factory my dad opened.

Well, it wasn’t completely new that Spiderpunk was on his way to vandalize your dads newest business- how could you have forgotten? Your heart beats in your ribs as your eyes dart to the hidden cameras you know are there because your dad asked you to adjust them and help so you make sure they cover the whole area. “W-we shouldn't be here, at all.” you tell him as you grab his arm to keep him from getting too close to which he fully laughs while shaking his head and putting a hand over his eyes, Is this some sick joke to him?

“Didn’ think of you as the type to be afraid of Osborn. You’re full of surprises.” He coos while softly clutching his stomach teasingly.

“What? No! It’s just- there's security and-” You begin, before being cut off before he shoots webs in all directions and corners of the wall as though to cover the cameras- he over did some webs but they are definitely covered now.

“And we’re wearing masks. Osborn has nothing on us- and that sadistic fascist probably can pay someone to clean up. Bet this is worth pennies to him.” Spiderpunk scoffs, his voice full of disdain and genuine venom towards your father–and he doesn’t even know it.

Something about his words ring into your ears, it’s not like you didn’t know your dad was practically hated by everyone that wasn’t rich and privileged.

So why did this feel more.. real?

More true? 

As if watching these acts in person other than the news you secretly watch is more.. In your face about these situations?

You swallow a big gulp and nod and take out your bag and open it to show the spray paints. Spiderpunk’s lenses squint as if he were smiling at you.

“Good girl.” He teased

The rest of  the night is a bit of a blur. A blur full of laughter, smiling, story telling, and paint. Spiderpunk makes his usual tag on the building as you try to get the hang of using spray paint cans. Genuine laughs from Spiderpunk when you have a stupid yet funny comment, and a smile seen in your eyes when he has a joke. Something warm develops in your chest and cheeks by being in his playful presence, a bit foreign but it's a nice feeling. Like a warm hug..

At one point you two actually get to painting, with a practice ‘drawing’ being a little spider like the one he has on the back of his jacket. “Aw, nice! Am I like your muse?” He coos as he looks at the art you’re making with a hand on his hip.

You chuckle as you glance at him then look away to focus on the spider itself, “Like it? It looks l-” You pause and cut yourself off at the sound of a camera and a light flashing. Your head whips towards the sound and you see Spiderpunk took a polaroid picture of you.

You watch as the picture prints and he shakes it while it develops before giving it to you with a squinted lensed smile again. You see the picture is of you with your back turned and the spray paint can in your hand while it decorates the blank gray wall it's on.

“Keep i’, let it be a reminder of the time you met Spiderpunk.” He comments playfully as he picks up another spray paint can and goes to the free spot of the wall beside you which makes you laugh and shake your head while he chuckles softly.

But then you think of a question that ends up erupting from your throat as you put the picture into your jean pocket.

“Hey, Spiderpunk..” You begin as you spray a line of your paint, leaving a streak of black since you’re starting on the outline.

“Yeah?” He responds as he holds his own spray paint can in one spot to create the little dripage to give his tag the right style.

“Why do you hate Osborn so much? I mean, I dislike him too, but do you have a specific reason to hate him?” 

Spiderpunk pauses slightly but keeps his gaze to the wall instead of looking at you.

“He is ruining lives and screwing people over for his own selfish gains. He’s a fascist twa’ that likes the power trip. And I can’t stand his pompous daugh’er either.” He answers while going back to what he was doing with his paint.

At this, you’re the one who pauses and keeps your gaze away. Before you can ask a little follow up–your phone goes off and you check it with eyes going wide once you see the time.

1:03am

Shit.

How long have you two been spray painting? You have to seriously get home before Roxy worries- 

Or before your dad finds out you’re gone.

“I have to get the hell home- like.. Right fucking now.” You say as you scramble to grab your things and shove the almost empty paint cans into your bag, suddenly aware of what can happen to you if you arrive late- Roxy is always giving passive aggressive threats of telling on you to Osborn if you arrive home late.

Spiderpunk gets confused at how you suddenly have an urge to leave but helps you pick up your stuff anyway. “Heh, did you sneak out or something..?” He asks with a chuckle but is mostly curious as to why you’re leaving in such a hurry now.

You breathlessly chuckle before zipping up your bag. “Yeah, something like that.. Can you-” You cut yourself off as you realize you were about to ask him to take you home. Obviously he can’t know who you are- you cant lose this friendship.. Or whatever this is.

“Take me over to the park you found me. Now. ..please.” You say as you sling your bag over your shoulder and wrap your arms around his neck again–even if this time his body is warmer and there's something there that makes your heartbeat a little faster.

“Wow, and I was ‘bout to ask if you were sick of me already.” He coos teasingly before putting his arm around your waist, and with a secure grip you’re swinging through the air again.

You roll your eyes and hold onto him, he comes to a stop at the park and leaves you exactly where he found you-

On the bench.

You awkwardly say your goodbyes before bolting away in the direction you first came, you hastily put your backpack back into the tree and make your way through the dark garden. You smile to yourself as you think back on everything that you and that masked punk did tonight.

You climb up the tree beside your window and jump into your warm bedroom where the only lighting was the bathroom light you probably forgot to turn off and the hallway light outside your bedroom door peeking in from below the wooden barrier.

You kick off your boots and start removing your mask as you walk back over to where the shoebox under your bed hides. You enter your dimly lit room and see it just how you left it. You take a breath of relief and smile to yourself like an idiot as you think about Spiderpunk, walking to your bed as you remove the balaclava from your face and put it into the box along with your gloves and the picture.

Once you close the box and safely hide it under your bed, your dad suddenly bursts through your bedroom door and Roxy behind him.

“No! Mr. Osborn, She’s-” Roxy was saying to your dad before she looks at you and stares daggers for a moment before continuing more calmly, “See, sir? She’s right here.” 

She had been distracting your dad while you were gone and you definitely owed her something since she was busting her ass. Your Dad seems like he was fuming but his gaze softened when he saw his daughter in her room like roxy had been saying to him.

“Hey, sweetie.” He greeted, almost awkward because of his aggressive entry. “It’s late, you should go to bed.” Osborn says as he walked over to you kissed you on the forehead.

“Yeah, I was just about to do that.” You retort in the usual chipper tone you used with him so he really had no idea of all the things you did against his back.

___

The next morning you go downstairs to your kitchen but overhear your dad livid on a call, so you stand by the door and listen in without making yourself known.

“What?! What do you mean he already hit the damn new factory at Elm street?” He practically roars but keeps mind to his volume since he thinks you’re asleep.

You smile to yourself as he begins ranting about Spiderpunk, the grin widening once he says something that made your heart pump slightly faster.

“A second one? Who the hell does he think he is, bringing some kind of date to ruin my work.”

___ @eyesxxyou .... I did it.

I'll make part 2 if this does well since I also have sm shit to do now that I have a job.

[irisintheafterglow]

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)🌷✨🩷🍪 Greetings Author-nim

Can I please request (⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠メ⁠)

(OPLA Zoro x You) Where Reader is an Assassin or Ninja and is a Pirate hunter, When Zoro used to be one too, they would always compete who gets the target first. Sometimes Zoro wins, sometimes reader.

So, imagine Reader's reaction when they saw Zoro with the crew.

And also, Luffy, somehow by some miracle with his own style of talk-no-jutsu managed to convince reader to join them(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥. Hope u have a great day and it's okay if u don't want to do this. I'll understand.

baby, let the games begin

wc: 2k (surprise, shawty)

cw/tags: gn!reader, swearing, canon-typical violence, mentions of drinking and alcohol, pining pining pining pining PINING

note: hi love, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you like this because i certainly love writing for this stupid himbo man

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Honor be damned, you really wanted to kill him. 

“Dirty play, demon,” you huff irritatedly, scowling at the asshole who skewered your target before you could. In a single clean slash, the head is relieved of its body and unceremoniously kicked into a bag. “We both know that one was mine.”

“Better luck next time.” Asshole. Stupid, selfish, infuriatingly attractive asshole. A million different ways you could end his life flashed through your mind and, with his back turned to you, became more of a possibility the longer you sat in your disappointment. The dock creaks beneath his receding footsteps and you spit a curse under your breath. The head now bouncing around in the pirate hunter’s hand would have had you living comfortably for months, not to mention buying some shelter for the stray dogs wandering your home island. Monsoon season was coming and you didn’t have nearly enough space to keep all of them dry. Finding food that wasn’t old bread and horse balls was hard in itself and shelter was just another task added to the to-do list. “You’re not gonna try and take it from me?” 

“Why would I? You killed him; you get the bounty,” you reply scornfully, praying that whoever came up with the idea of hunter’s honor is torn to shreds by an octopus. “Guess it is your turn,” you concede reluctantly and take note of the blood dripping from the dirty fabric sack as he reapproaches. You’d have to clean your shoes when you were done. “I did take that guy from you in Flamingo Village, last week.” 

“The one with the big, ugly hat,” he confirms and you don’t budge when he stands right in front of you. He had pretty eyes, you’d give him that. Too bad you wanted to slam your fist into his nose. “I was mad about that one.”

“Well, you got this one. Aren’t you gonna cash ‘em in?”

“I will. I’m just curious,” he says and his expression is unreadable. It bordered on amusement and suspicion with a little bit of awe. “You could have killed me a million times since I killed the target.” Already thought that, buddy. “Why didn’t you?”

“Like I said, hunter’s honor–”

“No,” he shakes his head decidedly and you narrow your eyes. “You’ve been following this guy for four days, watching other hunters fail to bring him in. My question is, why do you need this bounty so badly, and why aren’t you willing to kill me over it?”

“Technically, that’s two questions,” you deadpan and your heart does an unwanted little stutter when he scoffs, the tiniest smile pulling at his mouth. “If you really wanna know why I need it, it’s ‘cause I need to take care of some friends back home.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but you also didn’t need the most feared hunter in the seas knowing that you needed the money to buy squeaky toys and dog beds. 

“Those friends aren’t worth killing for?”

“It’s sounding like you want me to kill you,” you fire back incredulously. “Do I need to worry about you, Zoro?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is, all other hunters would be leaping at my throat as soon as I take their kill. I just don’t understand why you won’t, especially if it’s worth four days of stalking.” 

“Maybe I like playing this little game,” you admit. It’s no secret to you that your job becomes incredibly boring at times. All the other hunters you come across take their jobs too seriously and believe that they’re purging the seas of evil. You, however, knew that the real evil was pacing around ivory towers and putting up the wanted posters. When you first met Zoro, it seemed like he didn’t take his job seriously at all. He killed like it was breathing and remained unamused at the melodramatic theatrics of flashier hunters. You ran into each other often because, besides being the only ones who survive their hunts, you were the top-earning hunters of your generation and ended up following the same pace every time. “I take a bounty; you take a bounty. I try to beat the pirate hunter at his own game; he throws a fit when I’m faster than him.”

“But, today I was faster than you,” he corrects and you stick your tongue out at him in defiance. “Who’s throwing a fit now?”

“Get out of my sight, demon,” you frown but you can’t hold it for long. It becomes a tired, melancholy smile and you start to make your way back to the town to book passage home. “Hope you enjoy all that Berry.” 

“Let me buy you a drink with it before you go,” he calls after you and you freeze where you stand. “Consolation for kicking your ass this time around.” You shoot him a scathing look over your shoulder and take the bait. 

“I did all the dirty work for you, asshole, so it better be three drinks at the least.” He chuckles softly under his breath and you roll your eyes, letting him catch up to you before heading to the nearest bar together. “I hate you so much.” 

“No, you don’t.”

As time passed and you ran into him more during your hunts, that hatred turned into something different, an annoying feeling of excitement every time you heard a sword unsheathed or spotted someone with green hair. You found yourself checking your watch when you were ahead of him, counting down the hours until he caught up. You knew the sound of his footsteps and the rhythm of his breathing and memorized how the sun hit his eyes down to the iris. Sometimes, you’d work with him directly and split the bounty evenly once it was completed. During conversations to kill time, though he never admitted it, he liked being around you as often as he was. Eventually, you told him about your furry friends back on the island and started marking the places you’d been with a hasty drawing of a dog. It became part of your routine and the time that it took for him to catch up to you decreased exponentially as a result. You’re easier to follow, is what he said. On a particular mission where you were unusually behind, you were delighted to find his gross attempt at mimicking the mark scratched into the wooden bar counter. 

You lose touch with him after a year or so of working together and you don’t expect it to hurt as much as it did. Word floated around that he was captured by Marines and posted up in Shells Town, but the same mouths reported that he escaped with pirates the following day. None of it sounded like him and it reminded you that you really didn’t know him at all. Still, you marked that silly dog into every barstool and backdoor you came across as you fell back into the same boring routines. 

Taking a rest day at a floating restaurant called Baratie, you think you’ve found the perfect spot to scratch into the counter when you realize that someone has already done it for you. It was horrendous and nearly incomprehensible, but you choke back a sob when you run your thumb over the mangled wood. There was only one person who could have drawn the little dog so badly.

And it’s like your body senses him before your mind does. 

In an instant, you’re hyper fixated on the familiar rhythm of his boots and the soft noise as his swords clank together with every step. There are four others with him, but you know his approach like the back of your hand. A boy in a straw hat whom you recognize from wanted posters rushes the bar, loudly requesting a glass of milk for himself and the finest rum for his swordsman companion. When he slides into the seat next to you, you can barely look at him, rendered defenseless from the conflict of emotions stirring in your mind. Thousands of questions were screaming to be answered but you couldn’t even open your mouth. The alcohol in your half-finished glass is all you can see. 

“You found me,” he murmurs, flagging down the bartender and asking for a bottle of whatever you’re drinking.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” you reply just as quietly, watching his hand carefully replenish your glass before filling his own and downing it in a few swallows. You stop him from pouring another with a light hand on his shoulder and he wordlessly sets down the bottle, making you smile softly. “You still drink too much.”

“I don’t have you to slow me down,” he replies without hesitation, glancing at your fingertip as it traces the mark he made on the wood. “I’ve been putting those everywhere since I joined up with Luffy. Figured we’d run into each other at some point.” 

“Luffy,” you echo. “That’s your pirate captain?” The irony of your situation escapes neither of you. If you were smart, you’d have every single one of them dead and bouncing around a burlap sack, just like the pirate all those years ago. But, just the same as the first time, you were stopped by a profound desire to be closer to Zoro. 

“He’s not like other pirates. Not like the ones you and I know.” 

“I’ll let the Marines know next time I bring in a head, then,” you laugh humorlessly, feeling the rum burn down your throat when you take another sip. You feel his eyes watching you carefully but you don’t look back at him. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

“They don’t have to hear anything,” he says in a low tone, one that sends goosebumps up your spine and has your heart beating a little faster. “They don’t have to hear anything from you ever again.”

“You’re not saying…”

“That's exactly what I’m saying.” 

“You want me to just switch sides like it’s nothing?”

“This job has been nothing to you from the beginning, nothing but a way to feed strays that, thanks to you, have loving homes,” he reminds you and you exhale deeply. He was right, but part of you wanted vengeance for all the times you secretly wished he was still with you. “So, come with me.”

“Zoro, I–”

“You know, I’ve missed you so much I can’t sleep,” he shakes his head and sighs in defeat. “Every time we dock at a new city, I’m hoping you’re on a hunt because, as much as I care for them, they’ll never know me the way you do.” He looks back at his crew with something like sad fondness in his eyes. They wouldn’t ever know him the way you did, as a bounty hunter with no real place to call home and no real people to call friends. “It gets lonely when you’re not forced to be alone anymore.”

“And it’s lonely when you are forced to,” you add. “It’s lonely either way–”

“But I’d rather be that way with you,” he concludes. “It’s not bad when I’m with you.” You pause, collecting your thoughts and calculating how much money you’d have if you suddenly abandoned your current line of work. It was risky, sure, but something about risking it on Zoro made it feel a little less dangerous. “Your silence tells me I convinced you.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince; it’s your captain you should be talking to.”

“Trust me, he’s the least of our problems.” As if to drive home his point, a choir of cheers rises up from behind you as a loud belch sounds through the harbor. 

“‘Our’ as in the crew, or ‘our’ as in you and I?”

“It’s always been you and I, hasn’t it?”

“It always will be,” you promise, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. He’s warm and safe and everything you were needing. “But, I need to teach you how to draw a better dog.” He hums in agreement, downing another glass contentedly. 

“Yeah, you need to teach me how to draw a better dog.”

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[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter One (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: cussing, family issues, arguing, bickering, emotional manipulation, 2.3k words

a/n: so fucking nervous and excited for this series guys. love ya so much. this is crazyyyy

series masterlist (reading the prologue is v rec'd)

******************

“Irresponsible-”

“Dad-”

“Wreckless-”

“Dad. I’m-”

“Inconsiderate!”

I sigh and close my eyes, letting my body slouch down in his office chair. I thought the fact that he sent me upstairs last night without a word meant he was going to be calm and collected this morning, but nope. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes while he’s been ranting and raving at me, not even giving me the chance to defend myself.

“Dad,” I say when he pauses again and stares at me. “I get it okay. I fu-” I clear my throat, wincing at the look he gives me. “I messed up. I’m sorry.”

He walks around his desk, takes his seat in front of me, and studies me for a second. When he speaks again, his voice is free of anger and instead just full of sadness. “I don’t think you are. Do you understand that you and your friends set production back three weeks on the warehouse? Construction was supposed to start Monday but now I have to tell the crew it’s been delayed. Do you care at all about that?”

I scrunch my nose up in annoyance and confusion. “Okay? It’s just a few weeks, Dad. I’m sure they’ll be fine. Look, can I go now? I broke my nail last night and I really need to-” He slams a hand down on the desk, startling me into silence.

“Y/N! Be quiet!” He pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to regain composure. “Three weeks can be everything to someone who needs a job. But it’s my fault you don’t understand that. I’ve spent your life trying to make sure you had everything you ever wanted but I should have been teaching you what it means to work for it.” He takes a deep breath and then stands, crossing his arms and nodding as if deciding on something. “But that’s about to change.”

I stare back at him, my mouth slightly ajar still from the shock of his tone. He’s never been this angry with me before and I don’t know how to handle it.

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.

“I’m going to pay my crew for the time that they’re missing. And you,” he gestures at me theatrically “are going to pay me back every cent. I’m sending you to your Uncle Buck’s ranch to work off your debt.”

I stare at him blankly and tilt my head, thinking I must have heard him wrong. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Dad!” I laugh with incredulity. “You want to send me to work in Nowhere, Louisiana? That is so not fair.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “That town is where I was raised. It has a way of teaching you lessons that you clearly need right now.”

I square my shoulders at him, a defiant twinkle in my eye before I give him a strong “No.”

“Wasn’t a question, darling.”

“No!” I say, standing now. “You can’t make me.”

He narrows his eyes at me and then takes a step back. “You’re right about that. You are eighteen now so I can’t make you. But that means I can cut you off completely. No car. No money. Nada. And that’s exactly what I'll do if you don’t go.”

My eyes widen and I blink profusely at him gauging his seriousness but he’s as earnest as I’ve ever seen him. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes but instead of standing here crying, I just storm out of his office and run up the stairs.

“Good idea.” He calls behind me. “You should pack. Your flight leaves in 22 hours.”

*************

My dad puts the car in park and looks over at me but I refuse to meet his eye.

"I cannot believe you are doing this to me.”

He sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t something I’m doing to you, honey. This is something I’m doing for you. I love you but I don’t know if I like this person you’re becoming and I don’t think you do either.” My eyes start burning at this and I snatch away from him, hopping out of the car to grab my luggage. Dad meets me at the trunk, silently pulling out my suitcase and placing it on the ground.

I finally lock eyes with him and give him a hard look. “I am never going to forgive you for this.”

He winces slightly but sets his jaw stubbornly. “That’s a chance I’ll just have to take. I’ll see you at the end of the summer.”

I don’t respond, just grabbing my luggage and heading into the airport.

When I get through security, I have a seat in my section and pull out my phone to check the time on my boarding pass. I get a new message and sigh, finally filtering through the bullshit my friends have sent me.

Jace 🥵

hey baby are you okay? my bad about the party. you know i get on that shit. but never again, ok?

u up? i’m so fucking horny

Lydia 👯‍♀️

OMFG GIRL! Thank you so much for not telling your dad I was there. My mom would have literally canceled my Dubai trip. I love you FOREVER. Call me so I can tell you what Dylan said last night!

Brielle 💋

Hey. I’m so fucking sorry for leaving you. It was so shitty of us. Please let me know you’re ok?

I scoff at my phone and block them all one by one before turning my phone off. Maybe a couple of months away won’t be such a bad thing after all.

*************

On second thought? No. It absolutely is. I look around in horror at what must be the smallest airport in the United States. There’s not even a baggage claim. I literally have just to wait while some guy brings out the luggage one by one.

When I’m finally outside, I look around for the car my Uncle was supposed to be sending but all I see is pickup trucks and dirt. I pull out my phone to call Dad when someone speaks up.

“Y/N?”

I look up to see a boy around my age looking a bit impatient. He has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, crystal blue like the early morning sky. He’s wearing a simple flannel shirt, some well-worn Wranglers, and a trucker hat. When I bring my eyes back up to his face, he gives me a look that says I’ve been quiet for too long and I snap out of it.

“Yes! Thank god. I thought they forgot about me.”

“Nah. Your uncle sent me. I’m Chris.” He says around the toothpick hanging out his mouth. Chris reaches for my suitcase and I let him take it, following him to the car. He moves quickly and I rush to keep up. Kind of rude for a driver.

“Don’t you guys usually have a sign or something?” I look him up and down before adding, “And dress a little less… dingy?”

He stops looking over his shoulder at me and I stop in my tracks before I can slam into him.

“Excuse me?” He says, clearly offended.

“I just mean, in LA at least, chauffeurs are usually-”

“Chauffeur?” He cuts me off with an abrupt laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I look around the parking lot for emphasis. “Well, what else am I supposed to think? You’re picking me up from the airport!”

“Damn girl, you really are out of touch. I’m doing your uncle a favor. You’ve never picked a friend up from the airport before?” He tosses my suitcase in the bed of his Ford F150 and heads around the truck as I feel myself reddening. I open the passenger door and pause, noticing how grimy the interior is and not wanting to get my skirt dirty.

Chris watches me with unconcealed amusement. “You can walk if you’d like. It’s only a cool 25 miles. I’m sure it’ll be a breeze in those shoes.”

I roll my eyes and hop in, mentally adding ruining a Coach skirt to my dad’s list of sins. Chris cracks up the car and to my surprise, instead of country music, a rap song starts up. I look over at him impressed. “You know LUCKI?”

He rolls his eyes and takes off his hat, scratching his head. “We have the same internet you do.”

“Not with that shirt you don’t,” I mutter under my breath, turning to look out the window. There’s nothing to see but fields, dead grass, and the occasional horse grazing so I turn back to Chris.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” I start, but he interrupts me.

“Nah. You’re exactly what I expected.”

I narrow my eyes at him, sitting back in the seat. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He counts them off, tapping the steering wheel as he does. “Entitled. Bratty. Unprepared.” He says the last one with a pointed look at my outfit.

I laugh without humor and clap. “Wow. All of that in ten minutes, huh? Okay, let me try." I tap my finger on my chin pretending to think. "You’re a backwater hillbilly whose idea of a vacation is driving out to Texas. You had big dreams of leaving this piece of shit town, but whoops! You’re still here.” I glance in the backseat, spotting a booster seat, and go for the kill shot. “What was it, hm? Babymama drama?”

Chris scowls at me, his eyes full of distaste. “You shouldn’t speak on shit you have no idea about. That seat’s for my sister. But thank you for proving my point. Why don’t we add judgy to that list?”

I snap my mouth shut and avert my eyes mutter a quiet, "Whatever." before reaching for my purse to popping in my AirPods. From my peripheral, I see Chris smirk and turn up the radio. When I’m sure he’s not looking, I chance a glance at him. He’s rapping the words of the song softly, bopping his head to the beat. I trail my eyes over his jaw, noticing the stubble lining it. Chris flicks his gaze over at me and I immediately look away, chastising myself.

He might be cute… Who am I kidding? He’s gorgeous. But he’s not worth a minute of the trouble. I sigh deeply and let my head fall against the headrest, closing my eyes and letting the music take over.

*************

I sigh in relief when we come to a stop in front of my Uncle’s house. It’s been years since we’ve been back here, I was only eight the last time, but hardly anything has changed.

The land still seems huge to me, stretching out several hundred acres; which is beyond impossible in LA. The house is beautiful, even though it’s clearly old, a rustic-style home with red shutters and a wraparound porch. My dad told me once that my grandpa built it all by himself as a wedding gift to my granny. My heart tugs a bit at the reminder of them and I push it away and hop out of the truck.

Chris is already pulling my luggage out of the bed when I come around and I go to take it, muttering a quiet thank you, before I hear my name being called.

“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t my bunny!” My Aunt Birdie calls from the screen door before stepping out onto the porch. I grin at the old nickname and drop the suitcase, running up the few stairs to hug her. She nuzzles me into her arms and I can’t believe how much I’ve missed these hugs without knowing it.

“My my. Aren’t you as pretty as a magnolia in May?” She coos when she pulls back, pressing a palm to my cheek. I beam at her and she calls over her shoulder for my uncle.

She lets me go, moving past me to speak to Chris.

“And thank you, darlin', for getting her for us. You know how that truck of ours likes to kick up a fuss somethin’ fierce.” She says, placing a hand on his shoulder as he walks past her carrying the luggage.

“You know it’s no trouble.” He says politely and I scoff, causing both of them to look at me. I cover it up with a cough and shrug, finally stepping into the house. Uncle Buck comes around the corner, grinning from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” He’s freshly up from a nap, sleepiness evident in his face, but comes over to wrap me in a hug. “How was the trip? Hope you and Chris hit it off.” He says, throwing a smile his way.

“Oh, yes sir. She’s…” Chris hesitates. “somethin’. That’s for sure.”

I glare at him and he shrugs, turning back to my aunt and uncle. Uncle Buck takes a seat in his rocking chair and gestures for me to sit on the couch.

“Okay, honey. I’m gonna give it to you straight. I know you don’t want to be here.” He raises a hand when I try to interject. “Now, let me finish. I know you don’t want to be here but you are. Now what we do here is honest work. This is work you can take pride in. And that’s what I expect from you. Good honest work. Are we clear?” He says, his voice as stern as he can manage but I see the cracks in his facade. I nod anyway, not wanting to give him any trouble.

“Good!” He says, his good-natured smile returning. “Cus’ Chris, here’s a tough cookie. He’ll keep you on your toes.”

My eyes widen at this and I look between my aunt and uncle’s faces in horror. “What?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” My uncle asks. “Chris here is our lead farmhand. You’ll be reporting to him this summer.”

There’s just no way this is happening. I drag my eyes to Chris reluctantly and find him giving me the most shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.

He tips the brim of his hat sarcastically and chuckles.

“Welcome to the crew, city girl.”

Oh. I’m so fucked.

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[dinums]

The Unexpected Visit

Thomas Shelby X Reader

This is part 3! Make sure to read the first few parts

Sumarry: The Lee brothers raided the Betting shop, Thomas gets closer with the reader, but what more can he do if she herself admits to not love a man in this time?

Word count: 2327 words

"Wait, so what did you guys do in the races?" I asked, wanting to clarify with Arthur as we sat in the private room at the Garrison, where we were currently playing poker. John was the dealer, so he sat on the stool in front of us, while Thomas was seated between me and Arthur. I was on his right, with Arthur on his left.

"We've beaten the Lee's! Cut their bloody brains out, that's for sure!" he said, as if it were the most normal thing to do. They seemed to notice how tense I had become by my reaction, which made John cough a bit.

"Well, not really their brains... um, just, you know, enough to get business done," John explained, trying to lighten my mood a bit. I nodded, trying to dismiss it.

"Ah, yeah, sure. I mean, I guess," I said, looking at my cards. I didn't want them to think that I thought less of them because of this, so I felt the need to explain myself.

"Sorry, I guess I'm not used to all of this, you know? Am I making this worse? Uh, I don't—"

Feeling the three of them looking at me, I made myself small in my seat, hiding my face behind the cards as anxiety rushed through me.

"How did you live your life before, hm?" Thomas asked, finally speaking. Glad that I could explain why I tensed up.

"Well, I was pretty sheltered. The most I heard of beatings were drunkards in our neighborhood fighting at night, but that was it. There really weren't fights that led to really bad situations, unless it was in the movies." They all nodded, though I knew they didn't understand the last bits of what I just said, and that was it. We decided that was the end of that part of the conversation. After a round of poker, the tension from earlier died down and I chimed happily, putting the money on the table inside my coat pocket—my winnings.

"Guess I win, hm?" I giggled, earning a groan from Arthur. When the barmaid came, she took the empty bottles and asked us if we wanted more whiskey. I looked at the men, and Thomas just nodded, waving her off. Before she left, she looked at me, as if examining who I was. I couldn't blame her, though—I stuck out like a sore thumb when placed beside the Shelby brothers. It was evident I didn't look like I belonged here. That thought made me sad, just a bit though. I knew It was the truth and that I had to leave soon. Then suddenly, a thought came to my mind. Thomas went on a date to the races with a barmaid. If my intuition serves me right, then that must have been the barmaid in question.

"I'm guessing that was the woman you went out on a date with?" I said, looking at Thomas with a smile. She looked pretty and acted like one too. If she liked Thomas, then I can bet that after a while the feelings can be reciprocated.

"Drop it." Thomas grimaced as I just chuckled. John, however, smirked as he decided to join in the teasing.

"I'm afraid Tommy here has eyes for someone else, love. Ain't that right, mate?" That piqued my curiosity even more, nudging Thomas to make him look at me.

"Really? Is she pretty?" I asked. Arthur just nodded as he patted Thomas' back. Thomas kept a poker face, but I could tell he was pretty annoyed by the way his jaw was clenched. When he looked at me, he didn't look angry at me, though—at least he wasn't annoyed enough to glare at me.

"You're bloody right she is! Quite smart too!"

"But if Thomas likes her, why didn't he take her to the races instead? Wait, are you leading that barmaid on?" I frowned, waiting for Thomas to reply as I pointed an accusing finger at him. The thought of someone I considered a friend playing with a woman's feelings like that just didn't sit right with me.

"I told you. That was business." He sighed as he shook his head, he took my hand that was pointing a finger at him and placed it down. Deciding to just believe him, I finally dropped the topic. John then asked me.

"How about you? Has someone caught your eye?" I looked over at John, feeling that the focus was on me once again. I nodded, smiling a bit, unaware that both brothers were checking Thomas for any kind of reaction.

"Well, of course!" I answered, that caused Arthur to smile, raising his glass to take a drink.

"Who is it, then?" John asked again, another smirk playing on his lips. I guess everyone was suddenly curious about my love life.

"Yer not gonna tell me he's in this room, aye?" Arthur asked, leaning closer to the table to look at me. I chuckled nervously, shaking my hands in the air.

"Oh, no. You guys are great, but..."

"But what?" Thomas asked and I explained that the man I liked wasn't from here, that he was from back in my time. And that hes a gentleman who kept to himself, that I started to like him because of how passionate he was with his work, how I liked that he was funny and was always there for me.

"Well also, I can't really like someone from here, you know? I'll eventually leave. I can't just stay for love, right? I really miss my old life. You lot understand, right? I'll break that poor man's heart."

I said all of that while looking at Thomas for any form of understanding. He didn't reply; he just leaned back and nodded. After that, he didn't look at me anymore, drinking his glass of whiskey as he fished out some cigarettes.

"Another round, eh?"

///

Thomas didn't talk to me much after that day. Whenever I approached him, he would still have time to talk, but not like before. He'd make an excuse that he was busy, that there were things he needed to do, to brush me off. Understanding his situation, I just let him be.

Around midday, Scudboat and I were left inside the betting shop, counting money as the Shelby family decided to have a family meeting at the Garrison.

"Do you think John will be back soon? Thomas did say he'd be back in five minutes," I asked Scudboat, to which he just shrugged. When we heard a noise, Scudboat was the first to call out.

"John?" When no one answered, I was the one who asked next.

"John, are you there?" When the doors to the betting shop opened, however, it wasn't John but a group of men with guns pointed right at us.

"This is for Cheltenham! We're just taking what's ours!" the man said. Before I could even react, they smacked my head with a rifle, just like they did with Scudboat.

Everything was a haze as I fell to the ground. All I heard were the footsteps of men, rummaging through drawers, shouting. My head hurt, and I felt some of them step on my hand, kicking my body whenever i got in their way.

Mama asan ka mama? Kuya? Kuya, you'll protect me, right?

When I woke up, I heard Arthur's voice as someone placed me somewhere comfortable— it was John.

"You alright, love?" He asked, my mind still being a little foggy from earlier events. Hearing his voice, I tried to give him a small smile and a nod, to reassure him.

"Bloody hell! What happened here?" Polly said. I groaned. When I tried to look over at them, my vision blurred a bit. The betting shop, the house, everything was thrashed.

"Polly...? Men. M-men came, I don't know how..." I tried to explain to them what I knew. Polly sat beside me while Scudboat explained for me. That was when Arthur came back up, holding wire cutters.

"Wire cutters? Why would they leave wire cutters?" Polly asked. The boys seemed to tense up as Thomas asked Scudboat to leave. He went on to explain how they would set traps for the Germans back in the war and place wire cutters as part of the joke. Polly began to panic, walking over to the kitchen as I pulled my knees close to my chest, an act of self-preservation.

"It's not here, alright? It's not here..." Thomas said, sitting next to me on the couch. I looked at him, tears threatening to fall down my eyes. I had never been in a situation like this. Everything was so overwhelming, my body felt so heavy, as if I was Atlas carrying the world.

"They pointed a gun at me... even stepped on and kicked me like an object..." I mumbled before burying my face in my knees. I don't want to feel like that again.

"Oh, love..." Polly said as I heard her walk towards me.

"Oh, I'd like to find them, Tom. Oh, that id do. That id bloody do." Arthur said, balling his fist as he saw my state. I felt weak. I couldn't protect myself. I didn't know how.

"I want to go home."

"I know, (Y/N). I know."

///

Thomas didn't know what to say to her. He was seething with rage, but she came first. She would always be first. He grabbed a clean cloth and saturated it with alcohol. The family saw what was happening and understood that Thomas wanted to take care of her alone, so they knew better than to interrupt. Before they left, Thomas asked John and Arthur to inspect the family car, using the word "tampered" so as not to frighten (Y/N) even more.

"Hey, look at me, aye? Come on, up you go. Up," he demanded, gently cupping her face. When that was done, he began to clean the wound on her head. Whenever she winced, he would make sure to try and be gentle. He didn't know how, he just tried. As he cleaned off her wounds, their eyes met.

"It hurts," she mumbled, flinching as Thomas accidentally applied too much pressure to the wound. In that moment, she instinctively grasped his hand, attempting to stop his actions even for a small amount of time. Then and there, he stopped. This was all new territory to him. Back at war, when he would clean the wounds of his comrades, pain be damned if they got to live. But she... she gets hurt, so he needs to try harder, be slower, gentler—anything that would spare her from inflicting pain, pain that he had caused.

"Sorry," he replied. Thomas tried his best to help her, disinfecting the wound slowly as his free hand cupped her face. He was apologizing for everything. Guilt seeped into his bones. If it weren't for him picking a fight with the Lee brothers, she wouldn't be hurt. Maybe if he took her with him and Polly to the Garrison, then...

"It's not your fault," she said, interrupting his thoughts. He didn't answer. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't agree. He felt shame.

"Thomas, it's not your fault. I can see it in your eyes." This time, it was her turn to cup his face. She cradled it like it was something precious, like he was something precious. (Y/N) smiled, a comforting smile as one of her thumbs caressed his cheek. He found himself leaning into it.

"I know you feel guilty. Yes, I could blame you, but why should I when you're here as gentle as a lamb with me? So smile, yeah? Even just a bit?"

How can she do that, he wondered. How can she easily wander her way inside his heart? It was so easy for her. Everything seemed so easy with her. Thomas let out a smile, nodding to her.

"There you go."

"Your hands are soft," he said, changing the subject. She only chuckled, putting her hands back in her lap as he sat next to her on the couch. They both decided to take a break from cleaning her wounds.

"Yours aren't," (Y/N) said, taking his hand in hers, feeling the calluses and roughness of it. After a while, she continued, their hands now interlinked. "And I think it's nice."

"How is that nice, aye?" he scoffed. These very hands had killed thousands.

"It's nice because it tells me who you are. A hardworking man who has clearly seen and been through shit. Me, on the other hand, I actually have very soft hands because I never did hard labor," she said, her face flushed in embarrassment, which he secretly found endearing.

"I actually found it rather embarrassing when I got here. When I was young, my relatives would feel my hands and say, 'Dika tumutulong sa bahay, noh?' Or 'Tamad ka siguro.'"

"What did that mean?"

"The first one means 'Youre not helping with household chores, are you?' The second one meant 'I bet you're lazy.'"

She chuckled, shaking her head. After a bit more moments of comforting silence, Thomas decided to finish cleaning her wound. When that was done, he helped her go upstairs to his room.

"Hey, Thomas?" (Y/N) asked as he sat her on the bed. He only hummed to let her know that he was listening.

"Why were you avoiding me before? Like, after our little poker game at the Garisson. Was it because I kept winning?" She asked, playing with her blouse. Trying to suppress a smile, he licked his bottom lip, hands on his jaw as he shook his head.

"That was a provision— once you leave."

"Mhm? What? Why?"

"To get used to feeling like yer not here, eh. Now none of this, aye? I'll ask Pol to help you change." That was all that was said before he left.

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

[lady-ashfade]

A diamond of blood and obsession.

Preview. 

Yandere house of the dragon x reader. Series

Plot: You have been abandoned for what you are at a young age only to end up in a noble house and raised as a slave and to be used for your abilities. They tried to keep you hidden but when another family shows up and sees what you are…They couldn’t let you go, they just had to have you. 

Warnings for this series. Yandere tendencies, child abuse, slaves, killing, blood, obsessive and possessiveness, unhealthy relationships.

The sound of water being slashed around as you ringed out a rag and dunked it again then you washed off the dirk on your face. It was dried up mud after you chased the son of your lords, he was a few years younger then you. House Qarnaris was who you worked for, they had found you in the forest all alone with no one to help you. Your eyes were golden so they knew what you were immediately, a Vesent, someone born with unnatural abilities.

Vesents were once a strong race, they were peaceful people that only protected themselves when needed. They lived in the woods in carved houses, shielded away from the world that is until one human got to close. The human was killed for trying to take and hurt one of their people, this starting a war. Though they were powerful the longer time went on the more the magic started to fade. When peace crossed the nation only a few lived, most of them breeding out and some never seen again.

As far anyone could tell your birth parents weren’t Vasents, they wrote a letter that was left beside you saying they couldn’t take having you as their own. Saying you could get them slaughtered or one day become to powerful for your own good. The Qarnaris pitied you and took you into their home. Food and shelter but at a cost for work. You grew beside their children and given all the knowledge recorded in book to help you understand your magic and people.

You become a healer for the family or a extra helper when needed. You had your own room in the cellar and a wooden bed to sleep on, you had a low quality dresses to wear. They weren’t the worst but they weren’t caring either and yet you were thankful for them. Being a slave you had punishment, like begging slap when you do something wrong, no food for the night and what you hated was when you had to sleep outside.

“Y/n, could you sew my dress back up before mother sees?” Lady Martha ask as she pokes her head into your tiny room, she was three year older then you. She was ten-and-one, you at the age of eight, her little brother being at the age of six and then two older siblings. “Hmm, sure can do.” You agreed and continued to wash your face.

She looked at you, “Why are you so dirty?” She asked. “Because I had to chase your brother outside.” She rolled her eye, “Make sure father doesn’t see that you ruined another dress because then it takes money out of my dress savings.” You couldn’t say anything but just nod and agree.

She closed the door and walked away while you sighed and dropped the cloth and reminded yourself to be thankful for everything you have. Not everyone was a lucky as you are. Quickly changing your set of clothes you put dirty ones in water to soak in bubbles and begin to scrubbing.

After a while your hand began to cramp and you groaned and pulled back to scrunch your fingers to stop the pain. Then a knock at your door made your heart sink and the thought of it being Lord Deryk. He would kill you for ruining the new dress. You went to the door quickly and opened it and stood in a spot where the tub couldn’t be seen. And to your luck it wasn’t Lord Deryk but another servant.

“I am here to inform you that Royal visitors are coming unexpected, you are to get the children ready and help set up then come back down here and not be seen.” You were confused at his words but thanked him for letting you know. Royal visitors? Was the king and queen coming to visit? It usually takes them days to arrive and never on announced. 

“Gods be good.” You rushed up the stairs to get them ready like you were told to do, maybe tonight you could get some peace and quiet and get ahead of your chores. And if you are lucky you could have some left over pie from the kitchens if there would be any left.

[the-ace-reader]

Twisted Wonderland Guys

I’m a Leona Kingscholar stan through and through, but it goes further than that. They all deserve love. All the Overblot boys. They all deserve a Significant Other that can give them the love that they all want, need, and deserve.

Riddle Rosehearts? I don’t usually ship Riddle with anyone actually - this boy has been sheltered his entire life. He needs to learn how to live before he should worry about learning how to love imo. At least, love romantically. I can’t imagine he had the best role model of romantic love in his mother if his father was around at all. So start off with a different sort of love, the sort of love this boy quite obviously has lacked and the kind this boy quite obviously craves. This boy needs siblings. Give this child sibling, familial love. Give him all the siblings. Give him a younger sibling figure that he cherishes and vows to treats better than his mother treated him. Give him an older sibling figure that gives him the tough love that Trey struggles to give him. Give him a same age sibling that encourages him to let loose and get into a bit of trouble now that he has the room TO get into trouble. But above all, give Riddle a sibling that will love him unconditionally. Show him what family really is. Trey has started the ball rolling. Time to get it really moving.

Azul Ashengrotto? I will admit I’m not too fond of him, he’s my least favorite out of all of these Overblot dumpster fire messes, but even this attention-starved idiot deserves love. Give Azul someone that recognizes how hard he works. Give him someone who sees that, yes he is shady and underhanded, but those amazingly accurate study guides he hands out were made by himself. Those top grades were achieved by him. And on top of school work he is also one of the only sophomore Housewardens and the manager of the Monstro Lounge. Azul does so much, but he is mostly recognized only for the more shady, unsavory things he does. But he does more than that. Give him a SO that sees everything he does. Praises him for how hard he works. Maybe they don’t support his more unscrupulous dealings, but people walk into his contracts knowing Azul’s reputation. And by god, give this man a SO that is highly physically affectionate. I feel that Azul is touch-starved along with being attention-starved. Give the octopus hugs. All the hugs. Give Floyd a run for his money with all the hugs you give Azul.

Vil Schoenheit? This perfectionist needs to learn how to step away from things that are toxic to him mentally, even if they are beneficial to his career (cough cough Neige cough cough ((Neige is a sweetie, and it is not his fault, but Vil will never be happy being compared to Neige))). He needs to learn to drop his perfectly crafted masks and be honest with someone - be vulnerable - as uncomfortable as that would make him. Give him a SO that sees Vil at his most perfect and still treats him as a human being. No flowery words and praises like Rook would give, nor cowers or slight fear-tinged awe like Epel would give - this SO treats Vil as the mortal, fallible man that he is. And makes sure Vil knows that being a mortal, fallible man is okay. Give Vil a SO that is gentle with him when he is harsh on himself, but harsh on him when he is too harsh on others. Give him a SO that sees Vil at his ugliest and treats him exactly as they do when they see him at his most perfect. Give Vil a SO where Vil can be himself, no matter how that may look.

Jamil Viper? Needs a SO that is a combo of Vil’s and Azul’s. Jamil works just as hard as Azul, I would argue even harder honestly, but puts on a perfect mask like Vil does to hide the fact that he does and is even an actor like Vil is to hide the fact that he often stifles his own talents in favor of allowing Kalim to shine. Give Jamil a SO that is gentle with him, understanding of his situation, but willing to call him on his bullshit. His SO needs to be whip-smart and shrewd, they need to be able to keep up with him after all. He needs someone who is willing to choose him, without fail, every time. Put him first, but not necessarily rely on him. But that doesn’t mean they’re independent. In fact, they need to be willing to shoulder some of Jamil’s burden. He may object to it, but Jamil’s SO needs to gently tell him he has worked alone long enough. Jamil needs someone that he can rely on. Someone who recognizes him for everything that he does, encourages him to do more things for himself, and is not afraid to call him out when he hides behind his masks or gently coax him out of his hood when he hides behind that instead.

Idia Shroud? Idia needs a SO that is, at their core, understanding and patient. Anxiety is a bitch. It is not something someone can just get over and overcome with a snap of their fingers. Idia isn’t being difficult for the hell of it. He has severe anxiety. And Idia needs a SO that understands that and is willing to meet him even more than halfway. I think an extroverted SO is a must, because they can help gently, gently encourage Idia to open up out of his shell a bit. But the perfect SO for Idia is someone that is willing to go to his room and spend time with him. Willing to text him and video chat on days where he is not up for physical interaction. Does not look at him strange when he can’t get his words out of his mouth and needs to use his tablet as an aid to communicate. His SO is one who tries to understand his interests better, looking up the games and manga he’s interested in, looking up gaming lingo so they understand the phrases and shorthand he uses occasionally. Idia needs someone who not get easily offended - from Idia cancelling plans or changing them to online only to him calling them a newb or a normie. His perfect extroverted SO is not only understanding and patient but also very go-with-the-flow. They also need to have a good sense of humor and, of course, a love of all things adorable and fluffy. Basically, Idia’s best SO is also his emotional support extrovert.

Malleus Draconia? Oh my god. This stupid, adorable fae man. Naive cutie pie. Clueless baby. He is a man of dichotomy. So very powerful and strong. So very smart and old in a human’s eyes. And yet at the same time he is an awkward turtle to the extreme and I love him for it. Much like Idia, Malleus needs a SO that is patient with him, someone who will be willing to explain the things he does not understand. A fearless extrovert would also be a great idea, Malleus’s SO has no fear of him, why would they? This is their love. They know Malleus would never hurt them. Even when Melleus is mad and there are storms raging outside and around him and others are warning the SO away from Malleus, his SO will simply walk over to him and give him a hug. Malleus just isn’t scary to his SO and he adores them for it. Being an extrovert, Malleus’s SO would want to go out and explore everywhere and they would, of course, invite Malleus to join them. Give Malleus a SO that knows Malleus has a thing with invitations and specifically words everything they can to make it obvious the implication of an invitation is there, even if the word itself is not. Give Malleus a SO that is just as curious as he is too, and in their curiosity they both learn so much together and end up becoming magnificent rulers as well, simply because they bring so much new knowledge back to Briar Valley from their explorations and their thirst to know more means they are never afraid to evolve and improve their realm. Give Malleus a SO that is not afraid to take the extra step of having a spell or something performed on them to make their lifespan match that of Malleus if they are not fae. Briar Valley and, more importantly, Malleus’s family of Lilia, Silver, and even Sebek all approve of them.

And, of course, Leona Kingscholar? I love Leona so, so much. So it’s so hard for me to say what kind of SO would work best for him after reading so many fics with different takes that all seem equally fitting. Above all though, give Leona a SO that, just like with Jamil, chooses him first. Leona is their first choice. They could have anyone, choosing Leona, the besmirched second prince, is making everyone question their sanity, but his SO doesn’t give a shit. Leona is their choice and they don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. I think Leona’s SO has 2 sides to them, much like I feel Leona himself does. In public, Leona’s SO would be challenging. Pushing him to actually wake up and take charge of his life again. I feel like Leona and his SO would be the ultimate “they have already been married for 20 years” couple. Playful bickering, sassing, and teasing are a must in this relationship. It is law. But so are small signs of the absolute trust the two of them have in each other - Leona allowing his SO to pet his hair and ears (especially while he’s sleeping with his head in their lap), him allowing them to steal and eat some of his food, the SO allowing Leona to manhandle them into his space, them allowing Leona scent mark them very obviously and even growl at certain beastmen that he doesn’t like when they get too close without batting an eye at the possessive behavior. But when they are alone the other side of the relationship comes out. Leona wants to not only be recognized but also to be needed - so give him a SO that, behind closed doors, is soft and sweet. Have them praise him for his accomplishments, yes, no matter how seemingly small. He went to class today and that deserves praise. This man quite obviously suffers from depression and he needs the affirmation that the world is not there to destroy him. But beyond the praise, give him a chance to be soft to someone else. Let him have a chance to lower his tough act, just a little bit, and take care of someone else. He’s not some super caregiver, no. But being able to hold you close while you talk about your day? Nuzzle into your neck and breathe in the calming, familiar scent of you that, at this point, is now mixed quite nicely with his own? Lightly run his hands that are so capable of destruction soothingly up and down your arms and shoulders or through your hair? Leona may not be the traditional leader and caregiver, but by the Sevens, he will feign sleep to wait until his SO is actually asleep because he needs to make sure they are safe, so he needs to fall asleep last at the end of the day. Because that means that another day ended with his SO safe and sound and happy in his arms. And that’s worth so much more than a little lost sleep.

I just… I fucking love these Twisted Wonderland guys 🥺🥺🥺

[coffeewritesfiction]

Fill prompt for/inspired by this post by @unboundprompts. Saw it and knew what I had to write. Still got a bit away from me.

BTW if you see this, do me a favor. I'm gonna reblog this post with some links to my friend @actualblanketgremlin's stuff. Stella is the one who made Sadie and they're letting me borrow her, see. They've been having a really rough time lately so if you can spare some money or need to buy some pretty, handmade stuff [especially wood-burned boxes], check the links out? And reblog that version of the post if you can.

Okay it's Cthulhu Mythos time again here we go.

A terrible thing, silence. Unnatural, like things moving around in the dark skies over the city. Nothing but predators wandering in late hours. Laying in bed, Sadie waited, listening to the empty air. 

Chicago wasn’t like this. Chicago knew how to breathe at night. Chicago knew how to bleed. It even wept, sometimes. Of course it did. Everyone wept there, bodies piling in the streets in the street wars between smiling, scarred men in their expensive, wide-legged suits. Even now, after she left, the papers told it all - the country crumbling into pieces with the banks that failed them.

Arkham didn’t bleed, or breathe, or sleep. How did anyone get sleep in this town? Didn’t anyone feel it? Didn’t anyone know? Something had gone wrong. Something was alive, but not alive. Something was… dead, but not, and not in some strange in-between either, something she couldn’t wrap her head around… But should. In her bones, or beneath them, somehow, she should, she wanted to, she did not ever want to, understand.

Beautiful city, Arkham. Some of the buildings dated back to a few years after Salem’s founding. Walking through the city, you walked through the past. Someone’s else past. Her past. (Had she gone mad already?)

Laying in bed, curled up so safe under the blankets, she listened to empty air.

She waited, and listened.

Here, on the second floor, she could hear the young man in the attic quite well, when he walked around. Who he was, she didn’t know. A student at Miskatonic University by his uniform, dark hair, white skin. He avoided her. But the whispers from the other renters, they said he’d asked for the attic, because of its history.

A strange man, in a strange house, in a strange town…

Sadie closed her eyes, and listened. Why did I come here, she thought, why did I come here.

And above, a chair squeaked. Above a man stepped and stalked around the room. Above something mumbled and it wasn’t the man at all.

If she listened she’d understand the hissing, grumbling whispers. If she just listened closely enough, she’d understand. Sadie entwined her hands into her curly hair and clenched her eyes shut tighter with focus. Focused on the scratching scrambling clawing sounds that came between her breaths, focused on that faint masculine voice that dragged out between creaking, groaning, ancient wood.

Focused on it. Focused and listened.

The voice that was not the man who lived upstairs chattered and chuckled. Sharp claws dug into old familiar routes in the wooden walls. Cat soft footsteps. Creaking wood, creaking house, creaking doors.

Doors? She’d closed her door.

Sadie lay still in her bed, and did not move. Sadie lay there and listened to the clawing catlike footsteps. The breathing of a man that wasn’t. She listened to the words but had stopped. But now in the pit of her stomach and the base of her neck she knew, if the words began again, she’d hear, she’d understand.

Why did she listen?

She had to listen.

And when the voice spoke, she listened well.

“Goode be your name but not your blood, you are no child of Salem. Deeper stains run through your line than clever human magic. I smell it. She knows it. But do you?”

Within the darkness the creature laughed.

“You must. Would you listen to me elsewise? Poor orphan you are. Do you know the shell of which you’ve glimpsed? You fear the dark, for the horrors it hides, but it is the day which shelters the most dreadful of them all.”

Sadie opened her lips to speak.

“Be you wise and hear me now, Sadie Goode: you have not angered that which you have challenged, merely raised a terrible curiosity. You are known to him, our great master, as were your parents before you. It falls to you now, to decide your fate, and to decide with haste, for it was only a mistake that you escaped his sight.”

The voice deepened, darkened as the skies overhead.

“Your parents knew him. Do you think we could not tell the child of one of our own? No witch-child you are, but your parents served him well. How else would you be so blessed? But if they earned his wrath, and you follow in their steps, you will earn their punishment, three times three.”

And the darkness shifted and shivered with her body.

“Beware, Sadie Goode. Beware the mistress of this house, legend you may think she is. Beware the friends you keep, the enemies you make, the strangers on the street. And beware, my dear, beware yourself most of all -- for you have gained the interest of the Crawling Chaos, and you may gain more unmeaning. And there is no greater danger in all the planets in all the universe than to become a favorite of our god, Nyarlathotep.”

Sadie listened, and listened, and listened. And the claws sunk into wood, and the door hinged creaked, and the house breathed around her again. And she did not move, she did not open her eyes. Listened to the house shifting, and birds waking, and the strangers stirring in their beds unknowing, as the sun’s return brought Arkham back to life.

Tag list:

@slenders1ckn3ss @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @redacted-metallum @actualblanketgremlin @higgs-space @phantomnations @mushabumi @assistantdirector--janson @aldhidbah @sabtael @yourheartonfireblog @jade-island-lives @carnocus @cecuesta @darkhorse-javert @comicgoblinart @lizadomuch @minutiaewriter @izzyspussy @passthebeat-blog-blog @dragonedged-if @andromedaexists @cyanide-latte @suckerpunchfemale @late-to-the-fandom @eldritch-flower @cljordan-imperium @royal1asset-if @pineywitch @fragrant-stars @mynameis40and4 @starry-voids @wubsbian @divine-anarchy @elbritch-kit @tousled-birdmad-girl @pen-for-sword @noightwitchers @bee-barnes-author @amielbjacobs @dyrewrites @astras-rambles

[klbwriting]

Who Am I Really?

Chapter 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence and attack in this chapter

Summary: Orm is traipsing around the surface when he decides to visit an animal shelter. While there Atlanteans soldiers attack. Orm is able to fight them off before they can report him back to Atlantis, but in the process he loses his memory

Notes: Hello! This is one of 2 fics that I will be posting! This one will be posted daily in the morning. I hope you enjoy! Comments/critiques are appreciated!

Orm Marius was many things. He was a disgraced king, a mighty warrior, a proud Atlantean, but a good surface dweller he was not. He couldn't figure out why they did so many stupid things. Why did they throw out perfectly good food? Why didn't more of them know how to grow things, how to make things? He had grown up with servants yet he knew how to grow his own food, mend his own armor and clothes, make sure there was not unnecessary waste. He couldn't understand why surface dwellers weren't taught these simple things. He wandered the land, learning more about the corruption and hatred they held also. Arthur liked this place? His own mother loved someone from this hell hole? How? Then he started noticing something else. He noticed community gardens that were flourishing, with volunteers helping to harvest and give the food to those in need. Atlantis could learn from that. For all their merits about being environmentally conscious and able to take care of themselves they didn't do as well taking care of each other. He saw a news story on one of those TV's about a house fire and neighbors coming together to raise money to make sure the family affected could build a new house quickly, offering their own homes to stay in while they waited. And finally, he found a person who did something he could not even imagine. This person saved animals. Marine life seemed never ending to Atlanteans. They would eat every part of the creature but they weren't pets. When his first animal companion, a sea turtle, had died, his father had found him mourning and had made sure he understood that animals were nothing to mourn. The scars on his back were enough that he never mourned another creature again. This woman fascinated him.

He entered her shelter, a small compound by a lake he had been camping around, just to watch her and how she interacted with the small creatures. She smiled happily at him, introducing herself.

"I'm Y/N, can I have your name and reason for your visit? Are you just looking or adopting?" she asked, bringing up a clipboard. Orm frowned a moment.

"I'm Orm," he said finally, knowing this surface dweller wouldn't know who he was from anyone else coming in. "I was just looking, never had a pet before, wondering what all the fuss is about." Y/N nodded, writing his name down and pulling a sticker off the clipboard. She put the nametag on his chest. "What is that for?"

"In case you need help, I just met you, I'm not going to remember your name after one meeting," she said. That was a lie. She had seen Orm's blue eyes and knew she wasn't going to forget him, but she still needed to be professional. Orm nodded slowly and she blushed a little, making him smile. She was pretty and by the blush he figured she might find him pretty as well.

"What is the purpose of this place?" he asked. She smiled a friendly smile now, it lit up her face. She waved him through to a door towards barking.

"I started this shelter slash adoption center around five years ago. I've always wanted to help animals but wasn't really smart enough to be a vet, not steady-handed enough to be a groomer, so here I am, trying to save strays and get them into forever-homes," she said, walking them through a hallway with what looked like dog apartments in it. "This is the inside sleeping area, it links to the outside through that little door. In the summer we keep it open all the time, the outside area is contained and they can sleep or just sit out there as long as they want." Orm stooped down by a few of the dogs, looking into their eyes. They looked well fed, even happy. They had some toys, blankets, beds, everything you needed to be comfortable. Just no home. Orm understood that right now. He followed Y/N as she moved to the next area. She finished the tour of the dog wing before standing by another door. "Would you like to see the lakeside play area? I'm really proud of that."

"Ya, let's take a look," he said. He didn't know why he was so pulled to this place, to this person, but it felt like home here, among these other strays. He felt welcomed and like he could be happy here. They stepped outside and he stared. The lake was shimmering in the early sunset, glittering. It was clean, not like other lakes he had seen, and there was a large fenced in area that had dog play equipment and even went so far that the dogs could run into the shallow water if they wanted. "This is nice."

"Ya, I love animals, but I love the water too. There's something so freeing about floating, letting the waves carry all your worries away with them," Y/N said. She frowned, squinting her eyes as she looked over the water. "Is someone swimming?" she muttered. Orm frowned, looking closer. Atlanteans. Three of them. Soldiers if the gear they were wearing was any indication.

"Go inside, lock the doors," he said. If his tone wasn't so commanding she might have argued but Y/N did as told, going inside and locking the doors. She started even getting the dogs inside and locking the doggy doors to that side of the compound. She then sat in a corner and waited, listening to the sounds of a fight, something beyond a human brawl, going on outside.

Orm surveyed the three soldiers around him. He had a chance against 3, anymore he might have had real trouble, but 3 he could handle. They all pounced at once, but even without a weapon, he was ready. He bent, building the strength in his legs, and when he felt hands from the first attacker he twisted, bringing his fist up, sending the first soldier flying back several feet, knocking him into a tree, forcing his sword out of his hands. Orm would need to get that before the soldier fully recovered. He turned his focus to the other two, kicking one backward as he moved to grab him, then punching the other in the stomach to double him over before bring his elbow down on the back of the neck, disabling the water apparatus to suffocate him. That was one who was completely down now. He turned, seeing the first soldier scrambling to get to his weapon. Orm ran faster, grabbing it and slicing. Two soldiers were taken care of. Now just the last one. He turned, seeing the other one with a pulsar of some type. Orm looked around, grabbing the body of the Atlantean he had slain, throwing it towards the other one. He caught the body and fell back, rolling into the lake. The body drifted off on its own while the still living attacker recovered. Orm moved to the other body he had created, throwing it as well. Y/N didn't need a mess when she came back out. The attacker dodged this one, moving to climb out of the water again. Orm repositioned the sword, getting ready to throw it. Just as he launched it at the final attacker, the attacker fired the energy weapon, hitting Orm in the chest and knocking him back into the solid wall of the shelter. The last thing Orm saw was the attacked falling, sword impaled in him, into the water and sinking. Then Orm himself sinks into darkness.

[imagines--galore]

||Mind Over Matter|| Part Eleven

Summary: Evelyn is Penelope Garcia’s protégé. She is a tech wiz, and knows her way around any kind of security and just like her mentor knows  how to dig deep and get into the past of anyone and has a knack for   anything with a chip in it. Including potato chips. The one thing she fails at   is figuring out is the mind and how it works.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson(OC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Family. Some language, blood and violence in later installments.

Previously - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,

A/N: And on to the Lila Archer episode :)

Takes place during and after Episode 18, Season One

"Joy of all joys. TV business." Evelyn muttered under her breath as she slammed a coffee pot on the counter before picking up a rag to clean up the drops she had spilled from her vigorous placement of the utensil.

"Is there something wrong with being on TV, Evelyn?" JJ asked, standing in the doorway of the little kitchen of the jet.

"Whats right with it?" The red head grumbled, picking up two mugs and filling them with the hot beverage. "All you're doing is putting yourself out there to be judged and ridiculed by people you don't even know." JJ gave a small smile of thanks as she accepted her mug of coffee.

"Sounds to me that you have quite the grudge against the media." The blonde commented. Evelyn sighed, as she pulled off her glasses, wiping the fog from the glass pieces, which had gathered there from the coffee.

"You're the Media Liaison for the Team JJ." She pushed her glasses back in place, gripping the mug between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers through the ceramic.

"Why do people let themselves be ridiculed and criticized when all they are trying is to do what they love doing." She paused taking a sip before continuing.

"Or sometimes they're forced to do something because they have to get the money." She added, knowing how some people would do whatever they could to get the money they needed for food and shelter for their families or themselves. The world had always been a game. Survival of the Fittest. The minor people were always rooted out and destroyed almost unconsciously. No one even realized they were gone because they weren't an important part of their society. And neither did it matter. JJ sighed, moving a finger along the neck of the mug she was drinking from.

"Well sometimes people criticize because it is their job." She began. "And sometimes they do it because it's their nature to be blunt, as they would put it." Evelyn nodded, leaning against the counter as she looked at the older woman.

"I get that. But the journalists are really brutal aren't they?" She asked. JJ nodded, leaning next to her red haired friend.

"True. Some journalists would do anything for the story. Even dig up dirt. Come to think of it, you dig up dirt too, don't you?" The blonde nudged her friend, smiling lightly. Evelyn rolled her eyes.

"Its not dirt when you know it will help people." She stated, grinning at her friend, for a second before her smile disappeared and she looked down at the murky color of the coffee.

"But the dirt the Journalists dig up, it hurts a lot of people. And thats the sad part of it."

JJ nodded in understanding, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Its part of their job Evelyn." The red head nodded.

"I know. I just wish they wouldn't hurt people, thats all." JJ frowned at the tone in her friend's voice.

"You sound like you know something about show business. Like something happened to you." JJ watched as Evelyn pursed her lips tightly, as if stopping herself from saying anything. The shoulder atop which her hand rested had suddenly tensed. The technician only took a sip of her coffee, silent for a few brief seconds before she spoke.

"I can only imagine what the person would have to go through." She muttered darkly, before setting her still half full mug of coffee on the counter and exiting the kitchen, leaving a very confused JJ behind.

                                             ————————–

Evelyn grunted lightly as she crawled under the table, running her hand along the bottom and edges of the furniture, her fingers feeling for anything out of the ordinary. Most people would prefer using their fancy gadgets to do the job in finding the bug. And though Evelyn used them as well, she preferred to give a place a proper manual search as well. She could hear Gideon, Morgan, Spencer and Detective Owen Kim, the man in charge of the investigation, talking to Lila Archer, or rather about her, about the most recent threat note she had gotten. Deeming the area bug free, the red head pulled out from under the table.

"Place is clean." She stated, pulling herself up, slightly dirty and sweaty from her time on the floor and checking behind the vanity and cupboards.

"Of course its bug free. No one would've gotten past the security at the entrance." The blonde star said, frowning lightly when she was met with silence. "Right?"

Feeling Gideon's eyes on her, the red head stepped forward. "It doesn't matter. The stalker is obsessed at a point where nothing appears difficult for them. And getting past security would be child's play."

The star nodded in understanding. She seemed to be a rather sensible girl. Not like some of the stars she had met before. Shaking her head to get rid of her thoughts, to focus on the matter at hand, Evelyn only heard Gideon telling the three of them to stay put and protect Miss Archer.

                                             ————————–

"Stupid machine!" Evelyn muttered under her breath as she fished a screw driver from her pocket, before leaning forward to open the main circuit of the small coffee maker.

"What're you doing?" The red head looked up to see Lila Archer looking at her with a raised eyebrow. The FBI Technician shrugged.

"The machine was glitching so I'm fixing it." She said, her tone stating that it was the most obvious thing to do. As she turned back to her work, the young actress moved forward.

"And you just happen to have a screw driver in your pocket?" She asked. Pursing her lips as she pulled out a couple of frayed wires, Evelyn nodded.

"I also carry around a pair of pliers." She said, taking the tool out of her messenger bag and twisted the ends of the wires pulling apart the frayed part to reveal the non-frayed wires. Placing them inside their allotted slots in the coffee machine, Evelyn smiled in satisfaction as the machine gave a hum.

"I thought you were the FBI's bug sweeper." Lila said, confusion lacing her tone. The red head nodded, turning to the speaker, gripping the styrofoam cup of steaming coffee as she did.

"Bug Sweeper. Hacker. Technician. Red-Head. Pint-Size. Hot-head. I go by many names or rather titles." She stated.

"And trust me. Carrying around these things can be really helpful. Especially if your opponent is bigger than you are. Though," She pulled aside the shrug she was wearing to reveal a gun at her side, grinning as Lila's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. "This helps."

Lila glanced up at the red head, seeing her smiling lightly at her. "You must lead an exciting life." She said, making the other woman chuckle.

"I think I should be saying that to you, Miss Archer. You're the super star here." She said, raising the coffee mug to her lips before taking a sip and making a face as the taste of the beverage spread over her tongue.

"I think I'm gonna stick with a coke." She stated, emptying the contents of the cup in a trash can. Spotting her co-worker with said beverage in his hand she called out.

"Reid! Where's the vending machine." Her friend responded by simply pointing in the direction of the appliance. Smiling over at the blonde Evelyn gave a parting wave and smile.

"Pleased to meet you Miss Archer." She called over her shoulder, before walking over to the vending machine, fishing out a dollar as she did.

Morgan frowned at the red head as he stood next to her near the vending machine. "You alright, Short-stuff?" He asked. Evelyn responded by nodding as she inserted her dollar into the machine.

"Course I'm alright. Why do you ask?" She said, choosing the drink she wanted. Morgan glanced over where Reid had taken Evelyn's previously acquired spot and was now talking to Lila, before turning back to the red head.

"I know how you feel about show business Evelyn." He said, his tone serious. Evelyn nodded, silent, as she opened her coke can, and taking a sip.

"I know you do Morgan. But," She looked up at her friend, her blue eyes wide and serious behind her glasses. "No one can do anything about it. Except me." She glanced around at the people, carrying on with their specific jobs.

"I just hope no one recognizes me." She muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her drink. Morgan nodded his head in agreement before grinning.

"I'm sure your height helps you hide and keep out of sight." The red head, punched his shoulder as she passed him, cutting his laughter short.

"And also because you pack a punch." He called as he walked after her, massaging the spot she had hit him. Evelyn merely poked her tongue out at him, before she caught sight of an unattended camera and ran towards it.

As she stood fiddling with the contraption she could clearly hear what Lila and Spencer were talking about. She glanced up just in time to see Lila take Reid's drink from him and take a sip. The red head bit down on her lip as she caught sight of Morgan making faces behind Reid. As Lila walked away, Morgan walked over to the young genius, resting is arms atop the coffee cart.

"You don't mind sharing with me do you?" He asked. This time Evelyn did laugh out loud, as Spencer told Morgan to, 'Shut up!' before walking away.

"Go get 'em Lover." Morgan called after him, laughing.

"Wrong direction, Lover boy." She called as Reid passed by her. The young genius quickly turned on his heel, marching away in the right direction, but not before she caught sight of the blush on his face, eliciting a giggle from her, making her friend turn and scowl at her as he walked away. Evelyn merely responded by waving her fingers at him in goodbye.

                                            ————————–

JJ sat in the back of the car, fiddling with her phone as she did. Her mind was replaying the talk she had, had with Evelyn and somehow she suspected Evelyn had been through something that made her hate the show business like she did today. JJ wasn't doing this to be nosy. She just wanted to get to know her friend better. Evelyn was very desecrate and secretive about her past. Though Hotch, Gideon, Penelope and, she wasn't sure whether Morgan knew or not but she knew Spencer and Elle didn't have that much information either. JJ felt out of the loop. She was the recent addition to the Team. The others had known each other for a few years now, they were bound to be close.

JJ considered the Team her family as well, and she wanted to know what Evelyn's story was. Flipping her phone she dialed Garcia hoping the mentor would be able to shine some light on the mysterious red head.

                                              ————————–

"Crap!"

The word wasn't even out of her mouth and she was hiding behind her friend's taller frame. Spencer glanced back at the girl crouching behind him.

"What're you doing?" He asked. The two of them were waiting outside Lila's trailer. The shoot had just ended and after a little review and rehearsal, the two of them were to escort her back to her house. Both Agents had opted to wait outside, neither of them wanting to get in the way. Though Spencer was curious and slightly worried at his friend's sudden odd behavior. "Don't move alright." She whispered, trying to stay out of sight as she peeked from behind him. "See that woman over there. The one in the red suit?" Spencer scanned the crowd of people moving about before spotting a woman matching Evelyn's description.

"Yeah?"

"I need to stay out of sight. Make sure she doesn't see me." She muttered. Spencer opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by Lila exiting her trailer and asking if the two of them were ready to go in a loud voice. Evelyn, not anticipating the sudden arrival, jumped out from behind her friend, and as luck would have it was spotted by the last person she wanted to be, well, spotted by.

"This must be my lucky day. Lila Archer and Evelyn Richardson."

The red head winced at the proclamation as the suit wearing woman marched over in their direction, a camera man right after her. Her hair was cut in a sharp bob, her lips and nails painted red to match her suit. The whole outfit would've been good if it didn't clash with the large pink glasses she was wearing. The short haired woman smiled widely at the blonde star.

"Lila! Its been so long since I interviewed you." She said, as a way of greeting. Not giving the woman a chance to answer she turned to the red head.

"And Evelyn! You've changed drastically. The last time I saw you, you looked positively glammed up and beautiful. But then again it was your sister's wedding. Of course you would look radiant." She waved her hand in a careless manner. "Not as radiant as the bride though."

Evelyn bit down on her lip, her cheeks reddening as she looked down at the floor, embarrassed. Spencer stared at the woman in confusion, who turned to look at him, still smiling widely.

"I'm Michelle. Michelle Springfield." She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm with The Stardom." Spencer nodded.

"I know who you are. What I don't know is how you know Evelyn or how you were able to get in. This is a closed set." He said, his face showing no emotion. The reporter laughed.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. You won't get into any trouble." She reassured winking his way. Evelyn gently gripped Spencer's arm pulling him away.

"Come on, Spence." She muttered, motioning for Lila to follow them. "Lets not make a scene."

"I think we still have the footage from the last scene your sister created." The reporter proclaimed, as she motioned towards her camera man to start rolling.

"But if there is one you can top off then by all means."

Evelyn gulped as the camera was pointed at her. Lowering her head she pulled on Spencer's arm once again, seemingly snapping him out of the slightly shocked state he had been in given the woman's behavior.

"I am sorry, Miss Springfield, but Agent Richardson and I are on duty right now and have to escort Miss Archer back to her home." He stated, gently pushing Lila to walk in front of them while pulling Evelyn with his other hand, making sure to keep her as close to him and as concealed from the camera as possible.

                                              ————————–

"For the love of God! Spencer!" Evelyn hissed, scowling at her friend.

"What?" He asked, frowning in confusion. Checking to make sure Lila wouldn't overhear them she turned to her friend, punching his arm.

"Do you not know a woman trying to make conversation when you see it?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she did. It seemed she was doing her best to distract herself from what had happened earlier by directing her attention towards him instead. Spencer sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he did.

"She's a victim in this situation Evelyn. I'm an FBI Agent. It's against policy." He stated, making Evelyn roll her eyes.

"Who would know?" She asked, gesturing around the empty house.

"You would." He deadpanned.

"Yeah! But I wouldn't tattle on you. What are we seven?" She muttered, scowling at him, before glancing in the direction of the kitchen and turning back to her friend. "Just go with it Spence. I know its not really your thing but," She glanced up at him.

"Try to be her friend. People like her need all the good friends they can get." She continued, patting him on the shoulder, before making her way towards the kitchen. Behind her Reid, frowned in thought, turning back to look at the collage.

                                              ————————–

"So you really didn't see anything?"

"Nope."

"Not even a smidge."

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a Scout."

"I'm telling the truth."

Morgan scowled at the red head, who stared back at him with an expression of complete indifference.

"But I can tell you that something did happen." Blue eyes darted to where Reid was sitting on the other side of the plane, staring out of the window. Morgan glanced over his shoulder at the young genius as well. As if he knew they were watching him, Reid looked up from where he had been musing, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner at the two of them. Morgan simply gave him a small wave before turning back to Evelyn, leaving Reid to frown at the back of Morgan's head in confusion.

"Does it have something to do with the fact that Reid was soaking wet when we arrived at Lila Archer's house?" Noting how she pursed her lips, as if she were holding something back, was all the answer Morgan needed. He smirked before chuckling.

"Pretty Boy got it on." He said in a sing-song voice, prompting Evelyn to laugh softly.

"Shame it won't work out though." The red head said after a few minutes of silence. Morgan hummed in agreement as he fiddled with a pair of headphones. He was distracted from his task when JJ appeared at his side, her eyes trained towards the red head.

"Evelyn? Could I talk to you for a minute?" The technician glanced up from the rather thick book she had been reading and nodded, following after the blonde as she led the way to the tiny kitchen at the other end of the plane.

"Is everything alright JJ?" Evelyn asked, a worried look taking over her features as she watched JJ start to fix herself some coffee. The media liaison nodded.

"Oh yes, everything is fine. Its just I wanted to ask you a few questions. About Diana Miles." At the very mention of the name the red head stiffened, her hands curling into fists as an unreadable expression came to her face and her normally expressive blue eyes turned glassy and wooden, and somewhat sad.

"What're you doing JJ?" The red head asked in a low tone. JJ didn't miss any of those changes and she asked herself if this was a good thing. But Evelyn's earlier hostility against the media made her curious. And a little worried about the red head's reaction as well.

"I'm just trying to fit a few pieces together. We've known each other for some time now Evelyn, and I barely know anything about you. You're my friend and I care for you. I just want to know what it is that bothered you so much about this case."

Evelyn continued to stare at the blonde, the sound of her heart loud and fast in her ears as she silently contemplated on whether she should explain everything to JJ or not. She had kept this a secret for so long. Aside from Gideon and Penelope no one knew much about her past. Gideon knew the full story. Penelope knew half of it. Hotch had his suspicions, she knew. And Morgan, Elle and Reid probably had their own little profile of her tucked away in their heads. Despite the unspoken promise to never profile anyone on the Team, it was an unconscious act on everyone's act. But no one ever called anyone out on anything.

JJ held Evelyn's gaze. Determined to get some answers. But only if the red head was comfortable with giving them. Finally, something in the younger agent's expression broke and she sighed, her body relaxing completely.

"This isn't the place to discuss these things JJ. Come over to my place after work tonight." There was a determined gleam in the blue eyes that made JJ know for certain that her friend wouldn't back off.

"I'll explain everything."

                                             ————————–

The figure shifted as they hid tried their best to stay concealed behind the thick bush while also keeping their eyes on the woman that had just pulled her car in her driveway and was now getting out of the car. Glancing at the clock and with the best of their ability given the limited light the moon gave the figure quickly scribbled down the time on a small note pad they were holding.

The woman was of course oblivious to the figure watching her every move as she locked her car and started to walk up to her front door. The figure noted how slow her steps were. And how her posture was a little off. As if she were tired. Probably from work.

As she disappeared into the house the figure remained where they were, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever the woman's routine was inside her home.

                                             ————————–

Tag List - @lovelyygirl8 @kathaaaaaaa

[silverynight]

Fragile

Tanjirou is barely conscious, he can't open his eyes, but he's aware that he's fallen on the ground, all over the snow, after the fight against the demon. He can't move, he's freezing and he really needs to stand up and find shelter if he wants to survive.

Focusing on his own breathing has never been more difficult; the air is so cold he feels like it's hurting his lungs.

He gets worried when hears footsteps; his sense of smell is not working due to the weather at the moment so he's not sure if it's an enemy or not.

Suddenly, he's floating, no, he's not... Someone's carrying him. Trying to open his eyes hurts and he passes out completely before he can do it.

The next time he manages to open his eyes a little he is aware that he's in a cave, but he's not that cold anymore, he's covered with a couple of blankets and someone has him on their lap. Before he loses consciousness again, he nuzzles against a warm chest.

Tanjirou finally opens his eyes; he's getting better, mostly thanks to the blankets and the bonfire. He's on the ground, but someone put even more sheets and clothes so he's not that uncomfortable.

A gasp escapes his mouth suddenly and he panics for a couple of seconds before he notices the wooden box next to him and opens it only to make sure Nezuko is there, completely asleep.

Too late he realizes he's not alone and his eyes try to focus on the shadow at the other corner of the cave, standing a little ominously.

When they step closer to the light, Tanjirou tries to get up and find his katana, but it's more than obvious that his body is not ready to move again.

"You know I would've killed you if I really wanted to, Tanjirou," of course Akaza remembers his name. "You're exhausted at the moment and probably haven't eaten anything in a while, right? Actually, even if you were completely fine you know you wouldn't last long against me."

Sadly, he's right. Although it means he must've another purpose and Tanjirou is not sure he's going to like it.

"Then why am I still alive?"

"I enjoy fighting, especially when my opponents are at their best. When we see each other again I need you to be prepared."

Coming from him sounds perfectly logical, although Tanjirou has the feeling that Akaza has something else in mind. He's not being completely honest.

"So... You got me here and started a fire so I don't die from the cold," Tanjirou mumbles, although the upper moon three seems to understand him because he nods. "Thank you."

Akaza grimaces at that and he doesn't know why, but it makes Tanjirou chuckle. The demon looks so offended at someone being grateful to him that Tanjirou can't help but find it really amusing.

"I'll bring you food."

"Wait–"

It's too late, the upper moon is gone. Now it'd be the perfect time to try to escape, but Tanjirou's body doesn't seem to cooperate. Besides, he's not entirely sure where he is.

When Akaza comes back with a couple of bento boxes, Tanjirou narrows his eyes at him.

"Where did you get that?"

"Don't worry, I didn't hurt any of your precious, weak humans," Akaza assures him, sitting next to Tanjirou before handing him one box. "There's a town nearby, well... nearby for me... It's one of those places that is more busy at night. A man was trying to sell a lot of these... I just took a couple."

"You stole from him."

"He didn't even notice!" Akaza huffs, rolling his eyes.

Tanjirou sighs, realizes he's starving and makes a silent promise to find that man and give him money.

Then he starts eating and doesn't notice Akaza has been watching him until he takes the second bento box.

"Do you want some?"

"You must know demons don't eat human food. I find it tasteless."

Again, Tanjirou finds his expressions hilarious so he allows himself to laugh, he needs it. Akaza looks almost outraged.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No," Tanjirou chuckles. Akaza growls, but for some reason it seems like he's not actually mad.

He feels the demon leaning closer, but he doesn't try to move away. Tanjirou can't actually escape, besides Akaza is right, he would've killed him already if that was what he wanted.

When he finishes eating, Akaza takes one of his hands and looks at it almost with fascination. He turns it around and runs one of his fingers over Tanjirou's palm, noticing how rough it is due to years of training and hard work.

"You're so fragile," Akaza comments, almost like he's offended again. "All humans are so weak. Your body is so easy to break."

That could almost pass as a threat... But the demon looks actually curious, almost puzzled by it... There's no actual venom in his words, just genuine confusion.

"You were human once."

"I don't remember."

Tanjirou sighs, feeling compassion spreading inside his heart, but for once part of him thinks like he shouldn't, especially after what Akaza did to Kyojuro, even though the flame hashira managed to survive.

"We are fragile and we can die easily," Tanjirou admits. "But we're also very strong when we want to."

Akaza doesn't argue with him, instead he puts his hands together to compare them.

"You're very tiny," he comments in a way that makes Tanjirou roll his eyes this time, because the difference is actually not that much. "You... must be getting better because you feel warm."

"I feel better," Tanjirou nods, trying not to smile when he mumbles: "Thanks to you."

However, this time Akaza doesn't grimace, he just pulls Tanjirou closer.

"You need to sleep."

And Tanjirou does, because he's still too tired to do anything else.

***

He's gone in the morning; Tanjirou gets his stuff, eats the last bento box makes sure Nezuko is alright and heads to the nearest town.

Turns out Akaza was right, it was not that close from where they were, at least for a human who's too tired to move faster.

He pays for a room, buys more food from the man who was probably selling those bento boxes, leaves him extra money and stays for the night.

At midnight, a sound wakes him up; the door slides open and Tanjirou is ready to fight when he recognizes the demon in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, curious as he goes back to lie on the futon.

Akaza kneels in front of him.

"I just wanted to make you sure you were alright."

"I am much better," Tanjirou admits, allowing himself to relax and smile at him.

Akaza nods, but sits on the floor before looking back at him. He touches Tanjirou's cheek once before getting up and heading towards the entrance again.

"I'll see you again... soon."

"Goodbye, Akaza," Tanjirou says. He's grateful, he truly is, but he also has the feeling that he got himself in so much trouble out of the sudden.

***

Patreon

[direjoon]

METANOIA [4]

✩ pairing: wolf hybrid nj x cheetah hybrid reader (f) - eventual ot7 x reader

✩ genre: soul-searching , romance🔞 , found-family , healing , angst , happy ending

✩ word count: 6.3k

✩ chapter warnings: uncertainty in behavior and emotions , anxiety and crying , discussions of inadequacy and feelings

✩ summary: She doesn't know. There is so much about her and her cheetah that she hasn't had the privilege to understand. Unknown backgrounds and unknown emotions clash with feelings of want- hopes of being herself unapologetically. Namjoon seems to be someone that can help her- but can the rest of his pack truly be what she has wanted and needed?

✩ cover: me

ch.1 , ch.2 , ch.3 , ch.4 , ch.5

“Joonie! I’m so happy to finally catch you while I’m in the office. How are you?” 

Mila was always a rock in Namjoon’s life- one he didn’t know he’d need or find. When Mila found him, he was just another hybrid that needed help when the system was against him in multiple ways. Because he was too old to be “supported” by the shelter he was in, his choices were either to be kicked out with no resources or to end up with a mysterious fate because of the shelter’s shady practices. Now he knows what they do- trafficking, the selling of specific hybrids to different illegal industries, illegal euthanization- but back then, he was going to choose that route blindly, just so he wasn’t living on the streets. 

Mila found him when she was making her rounds at the shelters, using the organization’s funds to pay the little fees the ‘of-age’ hybrids were under. She helped him personally, as her position wasn’t what it is now- placing him in a temporary home, visiting him personally for readjustment with humans, and helping him find a job that was hybrid friendly. She’s someone that’s dear to him, as he is to her. 

“I’m doing great, how are you?”

“Eh, the new position is a lot more work, but I have more say in where our money goes so- I can’t be too mad.” She eyes the disengaged cheetah that seems to be lurking right outside her office. “Is this-? Taehyung?”

Mila never really had the time to meet Namjoon’s pack, and the rest of his pack never had the time or ability to come into the organization while she was in office- Taehyung and Mila have never met each other but know of each other. Namjoon wishes it didn’t have to be a random check-in that got her to meet his family but this is what it has come to.

“This is. Taehyung.” He turns and waves the nervous cheetah in, giving his waist a squeeze to keep him close and less anxious. 

Mila’s smile is enough to have Namjoon relaxing at the first meeting, but Taehyung isn’t one for first impressions- he values time and familiarity. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Mila.” She stretches out her arm to invite the cheetah in for a handshake. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from formal greetings so he gives in immediately. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Mila brightens at the response, letting his hand go to clasp both of hers together in front of her. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I think I know why you’re here but, I’d love to hear what you have to say.” Mila looks up at the two from her office chair. 

“It’s about the new case-”

“You can use her name here.”

“Y/N- I’m the only known hybrid that’s been in contact with her, and she definitely hasn’t met another like her. Taehyung also hasn’t met someone like him because of their rarity. I thought this would be a great opportunity for the two, but I didn’t share any information or specifics as I knew he’d need to be with the organization to help personally. I talked to them both and they both are up to having a time to meet up- is there a way we can make that possible?”

“Honestly, I think it would be great to see Y/N making these connections and having these relationships naturally. Through you and through Taehyung when he meets her- I think she would benefit greatly from creating these connections herself by her choice- without the help from the organization. I don’t mind them meeting, I don’t need him to be an official volunteer. If she consented to the meeting, then information can be shared between you and Taehyung- of course the most basic information out of decency, but you get it.” 

“Ah I guess I didn’t think about it that way. Nothing like this has come up before.” Namjoon looks over at Taehyung to gauge his reaction, reading a calmed expression that Namjoon knows is relief.

“No worries, it truly depends on the circumstance. But, I trust you and I trust your judgment. And I really like the idea.” Mila’s praise makes him blush a little, tail happily wagging at her confession.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure to make notes.”

“Let her know that the meeting can be out of volunteer hours if you both would like that as well. Notes aren’t a necessity all the time, especially if you guys are creating relationships outside of just a ‘volunteer’ stand-point.”

“Oh- uh, I’ll definitely talk to her about it.”

“Perfect. Is that all you need from me then?” 

“Professionally? Yes. Personally, I’d love for you to meet my pack members sometime, even if it’s just me and one other or a couple at a time whenever we can make it work. I’ve been wanting to but these last couple years-” 

“I understand, Namjoon, don’t worry. I understand pack dynamics and the adjustment period for the new members. Don’t worry at all. If anything I’d love to give you a paid position here- and then maybe we’d be able to figure something out sooner.”

Mila has been trying to push a paid position into Namjoon’s lap for almost a year now, but working offsite for a hybrid shelter feels more important at the moment. The shelter is still not up to par in his opinion, and the hybrids under his care know him personally. He couldn’t leave them with someone random, that’s the worst thing someone could do to them- connect, then leave them with little to no notice. Once you connect with them, you’re a strong tie to them emotionally. Though he doesn’t see them all the time, he does random check-ins weekly and everything is going okay. 

This is only the third shelter he has done monitoring at thanks to the organization helping him find a job in the ‘hybrid facility monitoring’ department of a local law firm. He is satisfied with his job, and he loves to do volunteering in his down time. He doesn’t want to change anything at the moment. 

“I’m really sorry, I enjoy how I have everything at the moment. But, I won’t just leave the organization randomly, maybe later on when I need to get out of the house more often I’ll get back to you.” He gets a sweet laugh out of Mila before turning to Taehyung to see he’s antsy being out in an unfamiliar environment for so long when it’s not needed. 

“I’ll try to catch you another day to make some plans, but I gotta get home to log in- I’ll see ya’.” He gives Taehyung’s waist a quick squeeze for reassurance. 

“Of course, of course. I’ll see you later- and goodluck with everything.” She gives him a familiar smile that he knows is something a little more than a kind farewell. He returns it with a nod before turning to leave. 

-

Y/N

Her restless body wakes her far too early. She stares at her dark ceiling, too many thoughts rolling around in her head. 

Having relationships is odd to her, in a way that feels emotionally taxing. She’s to be mindful of how she presents herself, how she talks, how she reacts to their personality. It’s all so much to think about. With Maria she’s used to it, with Richard it’s getting easier, with Namjoon it feels like no work, but someone from Namjoon’s pack that she’s never met before? It’s scary thinking about how wrong it could go. 

Namjoon doesn’t even know enough about her to trust her with a pack member. She can’t help but think he’s being a little rash. She hasn’t told him anything. Nothing about how she survived on the streets, about who and why she distrusts so commonly, nothing about how she cowers under the attention of a man. She can’t do this- not without being a little honest with Namjoon. 

-

With her anxieties, Y/N ends up outside sitting in the divot of her favorite tree at the time that Namjoon shows up. 

“Ahhh, that’s where the spot is. Very nice.” 

She startles at the sudden disruption to her thoughts. Looking down at the comforting Namjoon that always quiets her mind, she mirrors the smile he’s giving her. Wasting no time, she scoots effortlessly to the edge of the divot and jumps down landing on her feet. She pats at her butt and the back of her legs to rid the fabric of any dirt or bark. 

“Here, you got leaves in your hair as well.” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to help her pick a few of the green friends from her hair- always careful of her ears. Her attention is set on him and the attention he gives to her hair- until she spots the bag he’s holding. He clutches the plastic bag that clearly has two small containers of pre-cut watermelon in it. 

“Watermelon?” Is all she asks, hoping that he brought it for her again despite not being used to so much being bought for her. She’s okay with being spoiled a little if it’s out of her say- she’s never asked him to bring her the juicy fruit. She steps closer to give him a look she doesn’t clock as anything specific. 

(To Namjoon it is absolutely begging).

(Namjoon is a sucker.)

“No hug this time?” He asks her, pulling his arm with the plastic bag back around his back out of her reach. He stretches his other arm out for the hug, fake-hurt eyes looking down at her. 

She wants to relish in the feeling of his warmth- a constant heater- but she really would rather have the fruit as quickly as possible. She gives him a quick squeeze not even long enough for Namjoon to put his arm around her. All she can do is smile up at him and wait. 

Luckily he gives in, handing her the bag. 

“So, what should we do today?” Namjoon asks. 

She mentally smacks herself for forgetting everything so easily. 

“Actually- can we, maybe, go out today? Just to talk?” 

“Definitely. Do you have somewhere specifically you want to go?”

She thinks of all the places she’d be most comfortable at when having this conversation. Surprisingly- all that matters is that Namjoon is at that place with her. That’s where she’ll be most comfortable. 

“No, anywhere is fine.” 

-

It’s the same park where she was able to run freely in- the grass tall and breeze light, just as it was that day. He was the first person to ever open her up to the point he did that day as well. He was gentle, sweet. She has no idea how to act around Namjoon, but she wants to think they’re friends. Maybe this isn’t just a volunteer-case relationship. Or maybe this is just how hybrids treat each other and she never knew. With care and mindfulness that shows they’re all the same in some way. 

But, no matter how hard she tries- she can’t not think about him. About the way he holds himself, how perfect he is toward her. She didn’t have an ideal type before this, never once did she think that she’d be able to pick a person from a bunch and have these strange feelings. But he’s Namjoon- and she doesn’t want to lose him. 

She doesn’t let herself think too hard about it, this conversation will give her all the answers she needs. 

With both their windows down, Y/N watches as the park they ran in is slowly passed. She looks back at the large field, thinking of that day and why he didn’t stop to relive it. 

“Where are we going?” She turns to him. Never does she watch him as he drives them each time. She can’t put her finger on it just yet- but the sight of him and his muscles that she never pays attention to as he shifts the gear, turns the wheel, and rests his arm on the window makes her mad. Or irritated? Or- something. She just avoids seeing them as much as possible. 

“There’s this pretty look-out spot just up this hill, we’ll be able to see the park from there and the city in the horizon. I think you’ll like it.” 

The drive isn’t much longer but it’s definitely much more scary than usual. The steep sides of the hill that the road winds up to create is causing her to slink back into her seat so she doesn’t have to look at the drop. Namjoon maneuvers the twists well, but she can’t help but heave out a sigh when they finally reach the spot at the top that he parks into and cuts the ignition.

She forgets about the watermelon in her lap, immediately opening the bag to distract herself with something refreshing. Namjoon’s hand rests on her shoulder with a touch that’s barely even felt. 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I should’ve warned you the drive was a bit much for the first time.” Her anxious nerves loosen up with the comforting touch, popping a piece into her mouth for further distraction. 

“It’s fine.” She looks out in the distance she wasn’t able to fully take in. The mid-day bustle of the city is quiet from here- silent and calling for appreciation. She didn’t realize how big it all was. “It’s pretty.” 

This is the first city she’s been in, two nearby towns and the surrounding areas were always small and harder to be unnoticeable in. She was in this city the longest after she realized she truly couldn’t take the stares and pitied looks any longer. In the city it’s a lot more common to be on the sidewalks, in alleys, under dried, old bridges. This was a place she could get used to living as she did- at the bottom of the food chain. Alone. It was the easiest way. 

“It is. Perfect for the good news I have.” Namjoon gives her a cheeky smile that lightens her mood unknowingly. “You can meet Taehyung whenever you’d like.”

“Taehyung?” She turns to him to show her attention. 

“Sorry I never let you know his name. I wasn’t sure how everything would go at the organization- and I didn’t know how to cross that line between us. Personal details and such.” Namjoon gives a little wave of his hands, nervous-looking for the first time. 

“But anyways, Taehyung would love to meet you this week, or even this weekend. He doesn’t need to be a volunteer to- I talked to him about it after we left the organization. He’d like to get to know you without any labels anyways. He wants something natural.” 

Her cheeks pink at the knowledge of Taehyung’s eager sounding wants when it comes to her. She didn’t think anyone would ever want to meet her. Let alone meeting her out of choice and wanting something more out of it all. This is a special case. Maybe he won’t like the way she acts, or the amount of emotional baggage she carries- maybe she’s not what he imagined- 

“Namjoon.” His name forces its way out before she can think more on it. 

 “Yeah?”

“Are you sure that I should meet him?” Namjoon’s attention snaps to her gaze. 

“Of course I’m sure. Are you- do you not want to anymore? It’s okay if you-”

“No. No, I want to. I just-” Her throat closes at the sight of his attention. His scanning eyes are trying to read her. A raw feeling of something bitter and gross fills her mouth. Her past, the things she’s done, the desires she has- she pushed them all down when they found her under that bridge. She promised herself she’d never look back. She’d never tell anyone. She’d never have to be that person again. She has the chance to be someone new. And still these awful things want to be seen. 

“Y/N?” Namjoon’s warm hand is placed on her’s that she set on the middle console. Instead of the usual warmth he gives her, the wretched memories make her yank herself from underneath him- sticking both her hands underneath her seated bottom. She pushes down the tears threatening to silently release. 

“You don’t know anything about me.” She whispers, worried about what she’ll say otherwise. She’s already turned to look out at the horizon so she doesn’t have to see his reaction to anything. 

“What do you mean?” 

She swallows thickly at the sound of him. God, this is worse than she’d thought it’d be. 

“You know nothing about me, Namjoon. Why would you trust me with him? Why would he want to meet me? Why-” She has to stop as a crack in her voice threatens to cause her wet eyes to spill over. “Why are you so nice to me when you know nothing?” It’s not how she wanted it to go. It’s not as simple as she wanted it to be. An impending feeling already takes hold. She’s doing this too soon. 

“Y/N.” Namjoon grabs her attention once again. Her attention is on him but she still doesn’t take her eyes away from the city. 

"Y/N." The assured voice draws her in more than she'd like to admit. Her eyes find his again. There's nothing malicious- only concern and interest.

"Can I ask why you are asking these questions? Just so I can understand better."

She tries to find disingenuous hints in his expression. The tightness of his features proves she can do this with him- he's being genuine. 

"No one knows anything about me except me. No one has ever shown me respect or care like Maria does, like- like you do. What- Why? Why would you? Why do all of this with nothing in return? Why waste your money and time with someone you have no reason to be around?" 

She somehow keeps her composure despite her voice being all over the place. 

“I’m trying to forget everything and just let it go but- but it’s obviously not working. And I’m confused as to why suddenly everyone is nice to me. After everything I’ve been through, now it’s like- it’s like nothing happened and everyone, including me, is ignoring it. I’m irritated, and I’m irritated that it’s my fault.” 

The tears fall helplessly now, silently and without any grand show of arrival. She can barely see his face through the blurry wetness- she wouldn’t want to see his reaction anyways. She’s embarrassed more than anything. 

“Y/N, I’m not here for no reason. I’m here for you.”

Her scoff is an audible, gross thing she can’t stop from coming out. 

“You want me to believe that?”

“Yes. Because I told you. Because you said I respect and care about you. Because I have a choice to be here, to spend my time and my money on you- and I choose to be here. With you.” His voice is even and gentle unlike hers- making her feel more wrong, more out of place and rancid next to someone like him. 

“Don’t do that.” Namjoon almost pleads. 

“Do what?” 

“I can tell when you’re thinking too much. Your eyes don’t meet mine and they go out of focus, your ears turn down like mine do when I’m overthinking, and your tail tightens around your waist. I can tell.”

She insecurely wraps her arms around her waist to cover her tail, feeling vulnerable. 

“We’re responsive and emotional- hybrids- we need emotional connection and likeness in something and someone. I’m here to be there for you when you need that.”

“I don’t want to be a case that someone has to tend to. I want a friend- I want-”

“What makes you think we’re not friends?” Namjoon cuts in when she can’t think of that specific thing she craves. 

“We know nothing about each other.” She mumbles, wiping the wetness from her face. 

“And we won’t know everything about each other for a long time. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends- that means we’re learning. It’s only been a couple weeks, Y/N, we aren’t just going to immediately tell each other everything. I know you wouldn’t want to- and I don’t want to just yet.” 

“Because you can’t trust me.”

“Because I want us to have something real. Something long-lasting and considerate. I don’t want us to trauma-dump and rely too greatly on each other. Of course no relationship is perfect, but that’s why we’ll learn. That’s why I’m glad we’re having this conversation.”

She composes herself enough with his response, relaxing just the slightest into the passenger seat. 

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asks after not getting a response from a thinking Y/N. 

“Yes,” she confesses with a whisper, “that’s why I’m scared. Because I know nothing about anything and I still trust you.”

“I trust you too.”

“No you don’t.” 

“What’s the difference? Between your truth and my supposed lie?” 

“You’re perfect. You’ve got a family to think about and feelings you haven’t shared with me. You’re a hybrid- I barely am one, how would you trust someone like me?”

She watches as Namjoon’s eyes point out the changes in her comfort based on the slightest of movements. She just about scoffs again at the realization that she has no idea about any tells in hybrids. She knows nothing. 

“Our difference in backgrounds doesn’t change the feelings we have, or the responses we have to each other. Your choice to keep your past a secret is the same I have made. I haven’t always had a family and I haven’t always been the Namjoon you know. It doesn’t matter anyways, our past- not when we’re just trying to find people to comfort us and care for us.” Namjoon swivels his head to make sure Y/N is looking into her eyes when he finishes his response. 

“To trust blindly is the most vulnerable thing we could do- and that in itself is a lot more important- more meaningful than the pasts we are trying to hide.”

Y/N is speechless to say the least. Teary eyes watch Namjoon as his downturned eyes plead with her to understand. She doesn’t ever want to see him looking at her like this again- the ache in her chest and limbs clenches harder and harder with every passing second. 

“So- ask me again.”

“What?” 

“Ask me again why I trust you to meet Taehyung.”

At first she’s hesitant, closing her eyes to take a few deep breaths she desperately needs. Her lungs hurt but she breathes until they aren’t as tight. 

“Why would you trust me with him?” 

“Because I do. That should be enough, but since it’s not- I trust you because you’re a hybrid- because I know you both need this- because I met you and you’ve been nothing but gentle in our time together- because you are worried about who I bring around Taehyung, and that means more than you can imagine- because you’re you, Y/N. Because everything leading up to now has been nothing but pleasant and trusting.”

“Is that enough for you?” He asks with finality that she can feel in her bones. Because it is enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than she could ever ask for and even-even more. Because she’d trust his judgment of hearself even if it wasn’t true. She’d shape herself into whatever he wanted.

“Yes. It is.” She swallows down a swirl of strange feelings, trying to grasp onto something to say, something to prove herself with. “You believe that I trust you?”

“I want you to trust me, with every piece of truth I can muster, I’d hope you feel that you can lean on me, trust that I’ll be there for you.”

This is turning into something she was nowhere near expecting. He’s putting far more into it than she thought he would. He’s crushing her down into a palm-sized thing for him to have and keep for whatever he’d need or want. 

“I’m scared to meet him.” She confesses. “I’m scared that I’ll be nothing he expected, nothing he’d care to meet again. I’m scared that it will mean everything to me but he’ll realize I’m broken and incomplete and he’ll never want anything to do with me.” She takes another deep breath, ready to seal her fate. “I’m scared that his distaste for me would lead to me never seeing you again.” 

The silence feels so suffocating, Namjoon just sits, waiting for something she can’t figure out. Until he’s opening his door and walking around to her’s, opening it and waving her out with no words. Blindly, she follows. Keeping her arms around herself to self-soothe. 

“Yell it. Yell out how you feel.” He stretches his arms out towards the horizon. 

“Why?” She asks, still stuffy-nosed and wet-eyed. 

“No matter our age, no matter the emotion that’s overwhelming us, we need to expel the pent up adrenaline that’s eating us alive. Yell it while no one but me can hear. Yell it to get it out of your bones and muscles- let it be between us.”

She looks at him skeptically but turns to the city, taking in the colors, the breeze, the obvious life that thrives there.  

“I’m scared.” 

“Louder.”

“I’m scared.”

“Louder, put your whole body into it.”

Y/N uncrosses her arms, unwraps her tail, and tries again. Leaning forward, she tries to forget how stupid she looks. 

“I’m scared!” She screams with a crack.

“Of what?” 

“I’m scared! Of everything!”

The relief is almost instant. A weight releases from her that she didn’t realize was a constant companion. With the relief comes an audible choke that she can’t stop. The loud sob causes her to bend over and catch herself on her knees. Sobs and choked breaths rip from her- all those times she forced herself to be silent in her pain, this is how it repays her. This is how her body finds revenge. 

But this time she’s not alone. 

Namjoon

The urge to soothe, to comfort is too strong for him to just watch as she breaks down in front of him. This was his idea- even if he knew she needed it, the expulsion of her emotions is more than he can handle to just watch. 

He gently pulls her up by the shoulder, letting her decide if she wants the same thing when he turns her toward him. Thankfully, there’s no hesitation in her leaning into him, pressing her wet face into the front of his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and torso. He doesn’t have to think about holding onto her, rubbing her back in motions he hopes are soothing for her. 

He lets the breeze-filled silence fill their space, waiting until her sobs turn into minimal hiccups and shaky breaths. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he starts with a sure but calm tone, “but you don’t need to be scared about this one thing at least. Taehyung and I were the first of our pack. I know my pack very well, but Taehyung and I have had a lot of time to get to know each other.” He can’t help but let a light laugh out at the remembrance of their past. “I know that this meeting means the world to him- it means more than anything I think. He’s very in touch with his cheetah, and he has no one to share that with. None of us are like him. You could hate him and vow silence towards him and he’d still try over and over again to change your mind. He’s minimalistic and puts his thoughtfulness into actions instead of words. He’s emotional but extremely shy- he’ll want to be around you just to have you near, just to make sure you're real and safe.” 

Namjoon tries to think of anything else to reassure her, anything he knows is true and would help to calm her nerves. 

“I’m not in touch with my cheetah.” Her voice is more of a hum into his shoulder than anything, making goosebumps prickle underneath his long-sleeve shirt. 

“He won’t mind it one bit. Honestly-” He pulls back a little, causing her to pull her face from his body and look up at him. Her puffy eyes and red features make his heart clench, his ears immediately drooping at the sight. “I think he could help you with that more than either of us realize.”

-

“Are you sure about this?” Taehyung asks for the third time since they were getting ready to leave the house. This time, Namjoon is pulling into the Caddel household’s driveway as Taehyung looks around the front of the house nervously. 

“Yes. I was sure this morning, and I’m sure now.” 

Taehyung gives him an eye roll that could kill and waits for Namjoon to start the adventure up the front door before he takes action right behind him. 

Namjoon was careful to instruct Taehyung on possible triggers for Y/N before they set out for the day. He’s extremely understanding, especially when he can relate to what can cause discomfort. He also made the effort to wear freshly cleaned clothes to limit scents and present his own scent upfront. 

Namjoon’s at the door before Taehyung can ask anymore questions, knowing that if he could sit and anxiously wait for hours he would. With two knocks he expects Y/N to answer the door, but this time it’s Maria. 

“Hi sweetie,” she gives a smile to Namjoon, herding the boys into the house to take off their shoes and put on guest slides. “You must be Taehyung, very nice to meet you.” She smiles at him but doesn’t make him give a proper greeting to keep it casual. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Taehyung responds back as he waits for Namjoon to kick his shoes off. “Thank you for allowing me to visit Y/N.”

“Oh, of course! I’m very glad she has you guys, I want to do more for her but this is really the best way I can do that. So, thank you as well. Speaking of Y/N, she’s in her tree again- got too nervous and has been up there for about an hour now.” Maria explains. 

“You’re doing a lot for her, Maria, I know she really appreciates you. And thank you for letting us know.” Namjoon makes sure to let her know.

“Thank you for letting me know, I’ll try my best not to disappoint. You guys can go right out, I’ll have lunch ready in an hour.” She gives them confident smiles before letting them go. 

Namjoon leads the way, head circling with the possible outcomes. What if he doesn’t know how Taehyung would react? What if he was wrong and Y/N hates him forever because of it. What if he breaks her trust with the hope he wasn’t even trying to hide. He pushes that down, putting the trust he has in Taehyung to the forefront of his worries. He knows him. He knows how much this means to him. 

Y/N perches in her usual spot, looking up instead of out over the fence. Taehyung waits a few steps behind to allow her to come down to him out of choice. Another detail Namjoon thought would be good to include. 

“There she is.” Namjoon smiles up at her as she startles again. Her fast growing hair is in a high ponytail today, a common style now that she has the means to take care of it properly. The strands are pulled back carefully to accommodate her ears. The fuzzy, little things search for an out of sight Taehyung once she realizes he’s here. He gives her a minute to figure out what she wants to do. With a nervous look at Namjoon, he gives her an assured nod. 

It seems to be all she needs as she moves and hops down with practiced ease. With a look at Taehyung he sees the same nervous expression, giving him a knowing look to show it’s going to be okay as well. 

She peaks around the trunk just as she did when meeting Namjoon, but this time she wastes no time showing herself. She side steps to get to Namjoon’s side, accepting a reassuring hand on her back. 

“Taehyung, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Taehyung.” 

Y/N

She honestly didn’t know what to expect in terms of feelings upon meeting him. There is that anxiety she hates so much, and the impending feeling of doom that she seems to have so much lately- but, there’s something else there. 

He’s pretty, just like Namjoon- he looks nothing like Namjoon, but pretty just the same. His hair is lighter than both her’s and Namjoon’s, a wavy style that seems effortlessly perfect. His ears peak out the top of his light brown waves, camouflaging well into the strands. He’s in clothes that seem to match her’s. Plain, comfortable bottoms and a plain t-shirt under a plain zip-up. His tail catches her eye, swaying effortlessly, lifted and cared for with no thought behind it. She looks down at her own to see it still wrapped around her waist like always. 

She gives him a nervous glance before unraveling it from herself and letting it fall as it usually does. She isn’t used to keeping it up, her muscles ache after those unplanned times it seems to have a mind for itself and sway around with no direction. Even now, she lets it fall into the grass under her socked feet- but it takes tentative swishes around under the attention of Taehyung. 

As she avoids looking at his face to not have to see his reaction to her unsure instincts, she startles at a sound from him. A shocked sound of joy leaves the other cheetah, causing her to look at him and find a toothy grin that stuns her. She looks up at Namjoon who seems to have a very similar expression towards Taehyung. 

“Go ahead.” He gives her a light nudge on the back. 

It’s not disgust on Taehyung’s face. It’s an expression she can’t place, but at least it’s not disappointment. He’s smiling at her so earnestly, she doesn’t think twice about taking the tentative steps to stand in front of him. Despite his now content smile, she can see his details up close. The wetness in his eyes surprises her. 

“Taehyung?” She questions. 

“You’re real.” He says, sounding more like he’s convincing himself than stating it to her. “You-” He lifts his hand to roll a curl of her’s between his fingers, looking at her and watching her in awe. She tries her best not to shy away, letting him search for whatever he needs if it means he’s okay with her. 

“Hi.” She gives him in the silence, hoping she doesn’t sound awkward. Her smile is content under his attention despite not knowing him. With her greeting she takes in his scent, the warm, fresh scent seems to perfectly fit him. 

“Hi.” He responds back, his voice less stable than before. 

Her overthinking in how he feels blocks her instincts. An underlying feeling of want and yearn creeps their way into her muscles. Her own cheetah wants something she can’t quite figure out. Just like in times of pain, her cheetah is responding in a time of want. It’s a new warmth, a new feeling of being heard and understood. 

He’s being vulnerable for her, he’s emotional in front of a stranger when Namjoon said he was usually shy. He’s being sincere- she can try to find a way to do the same. 

Instead of blocking that scary feeling of unknown want, she tries to let it slip out, she tries to show him some part of her he can see as meaningful. To show them both that she’s trying. 

Taehyung

Despite Namjoon telling him that Y/N wasn’t familiar with her cheetah, he can feel it. He can feel a connection of familiarity that he’s yearned so long for. Her pretty ears and tail are just like his. Their patterns and colors so similar. And up close, she’s perfect. She’s nothing he could have imagined. She’s far better than anything he could’ve honestly dreamed up. 

She looks up at him with curiosity that melts him. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable but he needed to touch something, feel her in some way and make sure she was really in front of him. 

“Hi.” She says, her voice uncertain but light. Her uncertainty in it all makes his cheetah want to soothe, his heart hurting at whatever she could be going through. 

“Hi.” He responds, no knowing exactly what she needs in the moment. 

He lets Y/N watch him, search him for whatever she may need. Her ears and tail tell him she’s thinking, looking for what to do and how to act around him. He debates cutting in and trying to be vocal about his intentions, but it seems Y/N decides first. 

With Taehyung’s hand just out of reach of her face, Y/N leans towards him. Her cheek meets his fingers still holding her hair. He drops the strand, letting her move as she pleases. Her soft skin rubs against his fingers- he opens his hand to welcome her more. She takes the offer, fully resting her cheek in his palm, her eyes starting to water. 

Taehyung does his best to take it slow, rubbing his thumb into the top of her cheek with slow strokes. Once she’s okay with that motion, she turns her face into his palm, being able to smell him and now her scent mixed with his. 

“Taehyung.” She whispers, sounding like she’s in pain from whatever she’s thinking. 

“Y/N.”

[eretzyisrael]

by Mark Jacobs

The irony is that most of the loudest choruses come from groups that have never supported Israel’s right to exist. Their hypocrisy is transparent to anyone who knows about these groups or the money behind them. They portray themselves as moral crusaders for justice, but, in reality, they’re just plain old-fashioned Jew haters. Many of them are the worst kind, actually, because they support the destruction of Israel and the genocide of the Jewish people.

Perhaps it’s a good time to remind Hamas apologists that for years Hamas has been launching rockets into Israel — during a time of a so-called “ceasefire” — trying to kill as many Jewish civilians as possible. For years, I have had an app on my phone, “Red Alert,” that signals when Hamas rockets are launched into Israel. The alerts are nonstop and have been for years. Maybe 1% of the time, if that, I see something about it in the media. In southern Israel, in particular, grabbing your children and sprinting to a bomb shelter as the rockets are coming is a regular part of life. Yet the world has been silent. Who can recall a single time Hamas was lectured by the world community for these constant attacks?

Israel is facing a conundrum with only horrible options. As of this writing, Hamas is holding 137 hostages. It is hiding out beneath or besides densely populated areas, which Hamas uses as human shields. At this point in the war, Israel has discovered more than 800 tunnel shafts in Gaza, all designed to kill Israelis. Many of these tunnels, we now know, contain vast caches of arms, sleeping barracks and air- conditioned meeting rooms that are underneath schools, hospitals, mosques, homes, even one in a U.N. office. As long as these terror tunnels exist, the existential threat to Israel continues.

The reality is that since the day of its inception 75 years ago, Israel’s enemies have never accepted its right to exist, leaving Israel in a perpetual state of war. The first war it loses will be its last. The current cast of armchair quarterbacks are quick to give their advice from safe spaces thousands of miles away. Most have never been to Israel nor studied it enough to understand what it’s like to live under constant attack. Or, more probably, they simply don’t care since they’d just as soon see Israel destroyed.

Yet, they incessantly lecture Israel as if they are morally superior or possess military brilliance that Israel never considered. Both are laughable.

Their lectures are unnecessary, ignorant and hypocritical. Give it a rest. Israel has its hands full at the moment and will conduct this war as effectively and mercifully as it sees fit in order to continue to survive.

[sirmidezz]

Rambo head canons

Except it's just me projecting

-had a hippie faze himself up until he got drafted. After that his entire perspective changed on them.

-calling him a sad shelter dog is a understatement. He is a soggy wet rez dog that trautman found on the side of the road and gave a hot dog to.

-John's sad puppy dog eyes are not only used for looking at things, but also to secretly hypnotize any waiter lady to get free appetizers.

-he can sing he just doesn't want to. (Let this man sing a Johnny Cash song and be prepared to fall in love.)

-knows so many insults but doesn't use them mostly because he is genuinely a nice guy and doesn't like hurting peoples feelings unless the other person deserves a good word with him.

-he can be mean and not think twice about it, but he chooses not to.

-want to watch a movie with him? He will fall asleep as soon as he sits down on the couch.

-hides candy in his sock drawer to feel in control of himself. (Same)

-he buys candy he doesn't even like just to hide it. (Same)

-don't ever ask John for money. He doesn't have anything to provide and will only give you his thoughts n prayers.

-"ur transgener?" John will understand, he doesn't judge anyone. He grew up around 2 spirited people.

-John will never understand a "deez nuts" joke so please dont make them around him he will only look at you confused and stare at you after you make the joke.

-he has a pair of dad glasses he uses to read any letter sent to him. You want to show him a meme? Watch him pull out a pair of glasses and not laugh at the meme.

-he doesn't want a pet but if you get him a pet he will treat the pet like his own baby.

-when he was younger he learned how to hoop dance. He doesn't know how to dance now which is honestly very disappointing. (Same but with another dance😭)

-unironically goes "hehehe" when he gets what he wants like extra jam on his toast.

-has that generational trauma on BOTH sides. (Got hit with a double whammy)

-looks Lana Del Rey, but is actually mitski.

-almost never cries, but when he does someone probably died. Like nothing else but loss (and his talking about his past) can make this man break down nowadays.

-if he were a line in a song it would be, "cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me," (family line by Conan grey)

-if someone sat john down looked him in the eyes, held his hands and said, "your soul needs peace, you need to releive your anger not with violence, but with a gentle breath, allow yourself to feel for one last time." Then he will cry. Like full on ugly cry into your shoulder and let out pained groans and whimpers typa shit.

-he has big parental issues only he distances himself away from everybody he ever gets attached to in fear of being hurt again.

-he craves physical touch, only he gets so uncomfortable when someone hugs him.

-this man can deadlift 300. maybe even more, he can go walking miles without stopping once. hell he is a whole unit, but he will not go to the kitchen to get you a cup of water no matter how much you ask him.

-hates mushrooms.

-had a pet crawdad he accidentally lost. (It's still alive somehow, he just doesn't know it.)

-thugs it out on a daily. 💯💯 (I will pay for his therapy)