#and there's just so much pettiness from the owner and between stores | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crack-a-lackin-max · 10 months

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Little Angel

Summary : killer and angel take the bus home, have diner and get around for bed. chapter 3/? words: 2658 --ao3 link <3

They sat on the bench a few more moments till the bus arrived, and then he loaded up both of them and the bags onto the bus and sat down on one of the empty seats.

An older lady who had some knitting and a sandwich on her lap called over to the both of them. “K! Long time no see you rascal! What’s that little thing with ya? You didn’t bring a squirrel on to the bus, now did you?” Killer waved to her from across the aisle, “Vera, it’s good to see you! No no not a squirrel, meet my new little buddy. Their names Angel, found ‘em just this morin’ ” “Oh well let me get a look at ‘em!” she says.

Killer takes the bitty off his shoulder where they were half hiding in his hoodie. They look real nervous about this. “Now angel this is Vera. She's nice, rides the bus with me all the time. “ They look a little reassured at this, and killer holds them up a little in front of him so she could see them a bit better.

She squints a little at them and then looks surprised. “Well goodness they’re just a little ‘en! Not a critter at all, i thought you had some type of animal with ya K. well! I have never seen a tiny person like you. How do you do? K said your names Angel, that right?” They look back and forth between killer and vera uncertain, then works up the gumption to answer her. “Y-yes ma’am, my name's Angel. Im fine, thank you for asking” Vera grins at them, delighted by the bitty. “Well ain’t you just the cutest little thing! So polite too, where did you find them again K?”

“I found them by the bench down on third, you know the one next to the Wilson's house” killer said, bringing Angel back closer to his, putting them back on his shoulder so they could go back to hiding in his hoodie.

“Oh yes I know the one. Tell you what, I’m not one for gossip but i brought Miss Willson a pie almost a month ago and she Still hasn’t brought back my dish! Why if it was me I would brought it back within the week. I don't know about that family sometimes. And they planted red tulips next to their orange marigolds! Who does that?” Vera goes on, despite saying she wasn’t one for gossip she tells him about all the things she, in her personal opion , think people are doing wrong. And killer drinks it up, he loves petty trash talk like this, finds it very entertaining.

Angel sits on his shoulder, listening to them talk back and forth about people they don't know, they relax a bit when the attention isn’t on them any more.

The bus ride lasts around maybe 15 minutes, the route taking them through residential neighborhoods and by a few more stores. A few people get on and off at different stops. They bus stops at another residential neighborhood and Killer starts gathering the bags and standing up to get off, telling Vera bye first. “This is my stop you know Vera. always a pleasure talking, you always have the latest. Be seeing ya!” She waves at him as he gets off the bus, “be seeing ya! Bring around your little friend with ya, their nice enough”

“Sure thing, later!” he calls as the door to the bus shuts. He hold the shopping bags looped over his arms , and Angel on his shoulder. “My house is just down the street a little.” “Alrighty”

They were quiet, nervous. They were going to a new place with an almost stranger, and they didn’t know what to expect. Killer had been very kind to them so far, but would he keep being like this? Or would he start being more like their old owner? Guess they’ll find out. They don't have much of a choice, either go with him or stay by that bench and probably get eaten by an opossum or something. But even though they were nervous, they were also a little excited. He had been very nice to them. Bought them some clothes, was careful when he was carrying them and hadn’t grabbed them at all. Even got them a sweet roll, their old owner had never gotten them any sort of treats. Killer is more like what they thought having an owner would be like, like what they had heard about what a caretaker was supposed to be like at the center. He even talked to them like they were a person! Like just, chatted with them. They had never had someone do that.

Killer walked up the steps to his house, shuffling the bags to one arm so he could hold the banister for balance. Digging his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door and going into the house.

“Welcome to scenic my house! I'ma put away the food, they I’ll give ya the tour Angel” “Ok, can I help any?” Killer got to the kitchen and put the bags down on the table, and lifted the bitty off his shoulder and set them down on the table as well.

“Appreciate the offer small fry, but you can’t reach the cabinets or open the fridge. Don’ worry, I got it. You can keep me company though” “Oh, ok. Sorry” They stand on the table, rocking back and forth on their feet a little. “Nah, no ‘sorry’ s. You can’t help that your small so don't apologize for it” “Oh sorr-” They stop themself mid sentence, about to say sorry again. They flush a little, a bit embarrassed. Killer chuckles a little at that as he put away the food. and they join him to letting out a little relieved laugh once they see he isn’t mad or anything.

“Well I got everything put away, let me show you around now Angel” He lays his hand flat on the table next to them and hold it still waiting for them to climb on.

Once their sat down on his hand and have a hold of one of his fingers so they feel more secure he lifts his hand up in front of his chest and starts walking through the house. “Alrighty, so this is the kitchen obviously. And connected to it we have the living room” He walks into the living room. It has a couch and tv, and a few dead houseplants on a bookshelf.

“And then down this hallway we have my room, the bathroom and the guest room. I would let ya stay in the guest room, but it’s kinda permanently reserved for a few people when they visit. We’ll figure out your sleeping situation in a little bit, don’t worry”

They nod along with what he says, looking at the different rooms. “That’s alright, I wouldn't want to take someone else's room from them anyway. Also i don't think i’d even know what to do with a full sized room” they joke a little. “Yeah, like you should have your own space but a room that size would be,, a lot of space heh. Anyway, this here is my room. Feel free to come go into any of the rooms, except the guest room when we have visitors”

Killers room was messy, but like an organized type of mess. There were just ,,so many socks on the floor, why does one person even have that many? There's a bookshelf with a handful of books and some nick-nacks, and then a couple fancy looking knives. And then what must be at least 8 blankets on the bed, and an occasionally used walking cane next to the bed. They were surprised when he said that they could just go basically anywhere in the house. That’s just so much more free roam then they used to have, it just feels wild to them.

They look up at him, “really? I can just go anywhere in the house?” “Sure thing, don’t see any reason now to. Now, where you wanna be sleepin’?” “I don't know?” “Well, how about you crash on the couch for now, and then we can get something better set up later on?” “Ok, that sounds alright. Thank you!” “Sure thing, you hungry Angel?”

They were hungry, the ham an cheese roll up and sweet roll were nice but they were both little snacks. Before that they hadn’t had anything while they were waiting for their owner to come back.

“If it’s not a bother, then I am hungry yeah” Killer nods and starts walking towards the kitchen with them in hand. “Yeah i’m getin’ a bit peckish myself bud. Hm, what should we have for dinner? Lets see we got in the fridge. “ Killer sets them down on the counter top as he starts to rummage through the fridge and cabinets. “Ok,, it looks like we got some rice and veggies I could cook up, or I got some left over stew from last time big H was here, and then there’s some 'rritos in the freezer. What sounds good?”

They didn’t know who ‘big H’ was, but stew sounded pretty good. All warm and filling. “Stew sounds good” they tell him. “You read my mind half pint! I was feelin’ lazy and was thinking the same thing. All we gotta do is reheat it, it’s still in the pot it was made in and everything.”

Killer takes the pot of stew out of the fridge and puts it on low heat on the stove, stirring it a little.

“Now the real question is do we want cheese and garlic toast with this?” “If that’s an option, then yes!” they grin up at him. “You're so right, why wouldn’t we want cheese and garlic toast! Now do you think you’ll eat a whole slice or a half?” “How big is the bread?” Killer holds up a bread slice for them to see. “ I dont think I’ll eat even a third of that. Maybe like a ⅕ or ¼ of it.” “How bout this, I just make two slices. Cause I know i’ll want a whole one, then you can just eat what you want and I’ll just eat the rest. I love me some garlic and cheese toast”

Killer buttered two pieces of bread and sprinkles some garlic, rosemary and shredded cheese on them. Then put them into the convection oven, setting the timer for 7 minutes.

He had found a small teriyaki sauce bowl to use for them, all the other regular bowls are too big for the bitty. he didn't remember where he got it though, probably nicked it from the local chinese place down the block at some point. And he had found a small novelty spoon that was just the right size for them.

Once the soup is hot, and the toast is done he sets the food down on the table. “I cut your slice of toast into quarters so you could pick it up easier. Eat as much of it as you want, if you want more stew just tell me Angel” They looked over the food, eyes wide with excitement.

The stew had carrots, potatoes and corn floating on top and some beef, steam coming off of it in curls. And the garlic bread was warm and buttery with the edges crispy.

They dug into the food with enthusiasm, almost burning their mouth on the stew. Killer chuckled as he ate his own food, watching them demolish the garlic bread. they only ended up eating one quarter of the slice but they were really going at it. Killer let out a hum of contentment as he ate the stew. Man, he’ll have to try to remember to ask horror for the recipe cause dang this is good.

After the two of them finished eating, and killer had put the dishes in the dishwasher, it was now getting pretty late.

“That was really good, thank you K” the bitty says. “It was good wasn’t it. You wanna watch a show before we get around for bed?” They stretch their arms above their head as they let out a big yawn as they tell him yes, they have had a big day and now they are full of warm food. Killer smiles down at them, they won’t last through a episode before the go to sleep, best get all the sleeping things taken care of before the two of them even start a show. “Tell ya what short stack, how bout you go ahead and try on those new pj’s of yours and we’ll get your sleeping area set up, then we can watch a show” “Ok, sounds good to me”

They climb back up onto his hand as he carries them back to the front room to get the pj’s out of the shopping bags. Once the pj’s have been gotten he carries them to the bathroom to change. “I know you can’t open the door by yourself but I wanna give you some privacy to change. So I'm gonna leave the door open just a crack so you can get through and I'll go back to the front room, that sounds ok?” “Yeah! That sounds just fine” Killer sets them down on the ground with the bundle of clothes. He wets a washcloth with some warm water and gives it to them as well. “Heres this if you wanna wipe off any, call me if you need me Angel” “Ok thanks!”

Once he leaves the room they strip out of their old clothes and start wiping off, very grateful for the washcloth. They had felt kinda crusty from sleeping outside. Once they felt cleaner they put on the new pj’s, surprised by how comfy they are.

“Hey K? What should I do with my old clothes?” they ask once they get back up to the front room. “Oh I can just throw those in the wash, I need to start a load anyway” he holds out his hand for the clothes. He takes the clothes and puts them in the wash, starting a load of clothes with it. It was so small, it looked like doll clothes.

“Already, got that all squared away hun. I got a little sleeping area set up for ya while you were changing. It ain't much and we can get you something better in the future, tell me what you think?” He lifted them up onto the couch where he had put a pillow there to use as a mattress, and took a smaller throw blanket and scrunched up one end for a pillow and folded the rest over for a pillow. He set them down on it and they looked over it, it looked a lot more comfier than what they were used to. “It look great,, thank you” “Not a problem” he takes a finger and rubs the top of their head, messing up their hair.

Once the both of them are situated on the couch, killer starts flipping through different shows on the tv till he found one he liked. They ended up watching old star trek reruns.

And just like killer thought, they didn’t even last halfway through the episode before they fell asleep. They look peaceful while they sleep, that's good, they look nervous most of the time. And they somehow look smaller? Probably because they are curled up a bit. He kinda wishes he could just stay here and sleep on the couch with them, but it'd make his back hurt for the next few days.

He gets up and shuts off the tv and looks back at them. There is a bitty he found, sleeping on his couch. goodness, what has he gotten himself into.

He lets out a sigh and turns off the light and heads to bed himself.

#maxs writing #killer!sans #bitty reader #bittys #undertale fanfic

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trumai-pdf · 4 months

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SPECTACULAR

Chapter 1: Prologue

Master Post: Link

AO3: Link

Summary:

EARTH 65γ, Gwen Stacy is a seventeen-year-old high schooler juggling the life of an indie band's drummer and the superhero phenomenon Spider-Woman. She struggles to balance her two lives as they become closer and closer to intertwining - with her own father hunting her down, she makes friends with some and enemies with others all in an attempt to keep the city safe and take down the Kingpin.

For a while now, a certain drummer has had a theory;

The theory goes that any fortune granted upon Gwendolyn Stacy– an inverse of misfortune will be bestowed upon Spider-Woman. It’s as if the macrocosm destined it to be this way. Spider-Woman will never-ever get a break. If Gwen Stacy finds someone to fall for, they’ll transform into a massive-mutant-monster. If Gwen Stacy finds a moment of peace in her day to day life, she’ll be hunted by the police during that same night as Spider-Woman. It was truly an impossible task to live a life like this but hell, Gwen tried. Some days she hoped, she prayed– hoping to just get through a normal day as a normal girl– days like today. While thwipping and swinging across the city and stopping crime was fun, it wasn't like she didn't have her own life, as a matter of fact her band - The Mary Jane’s - were on in a little over an hour. It was their first solo gig if you could believe it. Nowhere fancy keep in mind- it was just for some trashy club down on Electro Avenue, but this was a serious deal to them! Especially Em Jay, the group’s singer and namesake. Sure- she's missed the occasional practice session, but this was serious! What would the others do without their drummer?

“-and that's why I really gotta get a move on with this, man.”

and there she stood, in the flesh - her outfit radiating white, pink and black. Homemade, stitched together with a mix of materiel as the silky black of her suit shined. Lenses modified from old sunglasses till they were almost unrecognisable, this was undoubtedly New York’s Spider-Woman - and it had been for the last two years. “I mean, you get it, you're a busy guy, ain’chya Herman?” She asked, as a man in his twenties was completely pulled from his feet within an old liquor store- made sense being just near Electro and the amount of clubs around that area, they were bound to make a lot of money… though it seemed like Herman Schultz thought that too. His body dangled upside down in the middle of the store, dropping his handgun to the floor as the elderly owner watched on. Technically she shouldn't even be in here- she WAS only seventeen… ah, I'm sure the owner didn't mind much, after all she did just save him from a robbery. This was the third time Spider-Woman had the displeasure of coming face to face with this petty robber, so you could say things were getting pretty serious between them now, huh.

“I seriously gotta run– but the police will be here soon so just hang in there dude- don't rob people.” Spider-Woman spoke backwards, stepping out of the store with a ding of the bell as she opened the door inwards. She just couldn't help herself- as if in good conscience she could just leave a cosy little store to get robbed just so she could hurry along to her own duties. That's not the type of person Gwen is, not at all. Lucky for them all, this store - and by extension club - was only half a mile out of Chelsea. Without much time to spare, and a quick undressing with a change of clothes from her backpack down a famously safe New York alleyway, Gwen Stacy was finally ready to make it to her performance, a black and red shirt with her band’s own logo printed across the front- heh, so professional…

The “club” was more like a basement, a staircase leading down below one of the many buildings in the area. Out of all the spots, this one was by far the least popular… well, like Em Jay always said: gotta start somewhere. Reaching the staircase, Gwen would be witness to an eccentric man dressed head to toe in bright lights, and by far the most into the atmosphere, or he would if it wasn't 7:30 in the afternoon and the sun hadn't even set properly yet. He blocked the entranceway, black hair jolting out from his massive head of hair, a similarly coloured beard braided down his face, and a green and yellow bodysuit bore witness to the young hero stood before him.

“Hey- heyheyhey- you got the password, lady?” The man asked, leaning down to Gwen’s shorter stature.

“The… passw-” Gwen was more confused than anything. “Max, it's me- the drummer– playing tonight, we've met.”

‘Max’ stared at Gwen like she just dribbled over her own shirt. He was either as high as a kite or something was off with him. “Oh, yeah right- rightrightright, yeah, okay you're good.” I mean, why would you even need a password to get into this place? There were maybe twenty people tops and it was more of a bar with a ten foot wide dancefloor. Hardly the ritz… with a sigh, Gwen took the plunge down half a dozen sets of stairs, opening a door wide to lead to one of the most lifeless lodges this side of the city. There were multicoloured LEDs along the bar, yet the yellow-tinted light bulbs were still turned on, half the people here were friends of the band who had begged to come- Gwen knew a few; Amelia, Ned, Lacey, Cindy, Maya, and of course…

“Dad, hey-...”

She seemed a little out of breath, be it from her little scuffle minutes before or having to try and talk with that Max guy. George Stacy, her father was waiting here the longest, getting off shift early just to see her show. Gwen leaned in for a quick hug, her father double her size and triple the width. He definitely looked like a police captain, especially with his uniform still on. He must have come here just from work. “Are Em and the others-”

“Oh- oh yeah, yeah, they're just backstage.” He replied, pointing to the ‘stage’ opposing the bar. “Did- you… run here?” He asked with a slight chuckle under his breath.

“Ah, yeah- you know, yeah-” She cleared her throat, teal Converse tapping at the wooden floor to get backstage and start preparing before being on in… how long now, ten minutes? “I-I’ll catch up with you soon, just- yeah, wish me luck!” Hah, god it was hard to lie to him. Gwen shot two things thumbs up in Captain Stacy’s direction, quickly turning to make her way to the illustrious backstage, which was just as grimy as you could imagine. Before speaking a word, she breathed in deep, straightening out her t-shirt and throwing that backpack of hers to the side. Three silhouettes greeted her, all in the same apparel.

“...Look, I'm sorry I’m late, okay?” Gwen grunted, pushing her back out in an attempt to stand up straight, cracking it in the process.

“Well well, glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, darling.” That was Gloria, more well-known as Glory Grant, and god did she just reek of sarcasm.

“Glory-” another voice perked up, this time the lead singer and namesake, a huge afro of red spreading out wide as the Band’s shirt was cropped and tied around her waist, letting her stomach stick out. It wasn't typically a bigger girl like Em Jay was so confident in herself but goddamn did she own it. Dark skin, dyed hair and messy makeup gave this chick her signature look, and after scolding the group’s guitarist she turned to Gwen. “She's right though, where the hell have you been?”

Gwen struggled to come up with an excuse, stuttering and muttering. “I just had to take care of some stuff, I'm here- aren't I?” She snapped back at the two.

“Maybe she was doing drugs…” The final voice was Betty Brant, a year below the other three, and the band’s keyboardist, her mind wandering as she tapped a number of keys seemingly randomly, preparing for their little showing.

“-Oh my God, are you high right now?” Em Jay spoke up again, with a tinge of worry - not much for Gwen’s wellbeing of course, but for the quality of her performance.

“I’m-! I’m not on drugs, Betty-” Indoor voice, Gwen, she reminded herself. “Is there anyone out there that we don't know?”

“Do we know Mr. Dillon?” Betty replied. All the while Gwen was pacing past her and peaking through some curtains they had backstage to see the crowd. Gwen’s head poked from the curtains along with Betty. Luckily for them, there were a good three or four strangers just in here for a drink. Surely they must be wondering why a dozen high school kids and one old policeman were in here too, especially with how unpopular this spot typically was.

“He doesn't count-” Glory spoke up, peeking behind the velvet blinds. “Christ, this is embarrassing.” She scoffed.

“A crowd is a crowd.” The redhead whispered, coming from above, Em Jay’s head was the fourth and final to poke out, all leaning against one another like some sorta old cartoon, Gwen being at the bottom of course. “Two minutes now...”

The quartet moved away from the flashy blinds, the four girls in matching tees had been a ‘band’ for a while now, but they never really… played. They practised and wrote lyrics and had fun with it, sure - but when Betty came to them explaining how she found a shithole on Electro Avenue willing to hear them play they scurried to get enough practice in to blow away just about everyone. They went around the school hanging up fliers, begging friends and family to come - and here they were. Even if they sucked, it wasn't all that bad, they were playing at a real club, right?

“Okay- everyone ready?” Em Jay turned to the rest of them, her pianist, guitarist, and of course - drummer, smiling optimistically.

“Mhm.”

“Course.”

“You know it.”

With that - and the flick of a switch - the lights in the room went out, leaving them with atmospheric colour-shifting LEDs and bright neon. The owner of the place, Max Dillen would make his way up to the stage where a keyboard and drums were already set up. He stood just on the edge with long pointed shoes going over the line, facing this crowd of acquaintances. Nearing a microphone, he leaned into it - coughing into it whilst reverb spread across the entire room. He wore sunglasses in the dark and his entire suit was glow in the dark - the man was bizarre to say the least.

“Alrighttt, hope everyone's doing good!” The band watched on in anticipation whilst the owner staring off into space. “The band tonight needs… no introduction- but I'm gonna give them one anyway, uh- straight from Midtown High School, christ-” He paused. “We have…” Max took a moment, his palm raising close to his face, staring down at it with a confused look across his face. “...Mary and the Janes… alright, come on out girls.” He clapped, slowly making his way off stage.

Em was the first to complain. “WH- that's not even–”

“Yeahyeah, I know- just let him be.” Gwen shook her head, shooting Em a gentle smile as she walked out from the curtains, they all did. Em Jay standing tall at the front, holding onto the microphone with both hands, Glory standing tall next to her with her dad’s guitar in hand. To their singers left was Gwen on the drums, and the guitarist’s right was Betty on the keyboard. There was some awkwardness in the air as they all took a moment to adjust to their positions, tuning their respective instruments up until they were ready to begin. With lights shining on the four girls, Em Jay’s gaze turned to Gwendolyn - all of them did… right. It was her job to start out, wasn't it. With the rush to get here she was scared to death she would mess up. It wouldn't be so bad if these were strangers but she had science class with Cindy, man…! If she embarrassed herself here it'd be a real big issue. Hopefully, their eyes just stay on Em Jay. She could only pray. Gwen cleared her throat, held her sticks tight, and let her instincts take the wheel.

“...ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!”

This was the life of Spider-Woman. When she wasn't escaping the jaws of death by the skin of her teeth then she was losing sleep and missing deadlines. For every act of good Spider-Woman accomplishes, an act of misfortune is experienced by Gwendolyn Stacy. Yet she didn't complain, this was her decision after all. If it was for the sake of others, she would gladly bear the burden of the title Spider-Woman. Things weren't all bad though- I mean look at her, smashing on cymbals and absolutely crushing it on drums. Being a part of a band for her has been a dream of hers since… forever, man! Ever since what happened to Peter, this is all she's really had, and believe me she is well aware of how sad that sounds. What was important is she kept this balancing act up - a life as Spider-Woman and a life as Gwen Stacy. She's not an Avenger, she's not even really a mutant - if anybody found out about these powers then who knows what they'd do? No, she didn't have the privilege of protection like Tony Stark did, she wasn't a masterclass hero, sometimes she struggles to even be good, but hey - she tried. She's really, really trying, to be a drummer for a band and saving the city from maniacs time and time again, even if it would kill her.

That was the responsibility of Spider-Woman.

#Spectacular #gwen stacy #spider woman #spider gwen #em jay watson #betty brant #glory grant #felicia hardy #matthew murdock #earth 65 #Transgender #trans gwen stacy

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supernatural-rewatch-3 · 1 year

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Some thoughts on The Winchesters characters

So after watching the first four episodes, I have some thoughts on the characters. There are some spoilers on them below.

Ada Monroe is the most mysterious character so far. We know that she is a book store owner who is very versed in the occult. She has some magical abilities, able to tap into the subconscious to see what the demon who possessed her thought about, able to seal demons in trees; like Carlos put it best when he told the demon not to look to him for help because he was learning about Ada right along with the demon.

Ada is very capable, having no issue helping Carlos just toss a demon into a van and she took charge real quick. Ada also knew all the Men of Letters and kept a demon warding charm nearby at all times. We still have a lot to learn about Ada, but I will say she is a woman who I am very glad is on the main character’s side.

Then we have Latika Desai. Latika isn’t really a hunter, not yet anyway. We don’t know much about her past. In the third episode she mentions she was born in North India and grew up hearing stories about the Sack Man. At some point her parents died, a statement that has been thrown into question by the fact that just minutes after we learned that she told someone on the phone to tell her mother that she is safe. She has no issue calling many people back in her home, but there is one person that she hesitates to call, only willing to try because Mary is in mortal danger and she tells us that the person may not even accept her call. Is it possible Lata fled her home due to danger?

At some point Samuel Campbell saved her and she feels she is indebted to the Campbell family. It is not very clear if she knew about the supernatural before or after meeting the Campbells, but she has known them for over a year at the point of the series. Mary sees her as a little sister like figure, even going as far as trying to keep her from getting involved in hunting until she can’t hold Lata back any more. Lata is a pacifist, so she helps fight by doing research and giving the group tips and information of how to handle the monsters they are facing. I hope to learn more about what drove her to leave home, and whatever trauma and concerning issues are still left back in India that need to be resolved.

Next we have Carlos Cervantez. Carlos knows the Campbell’s and Lata very well. He, Lata, and Mary have just a long time friendly relationship, implying that the three have known each other for years, can easily contact each other, and have been through some interesting things together. Carlos became a hunter when he learned about a ghoul and the ghoul killed his family. He implies that after that he lived in his van alone, traveling around and hunting monsters. That is probably how he met the Campbells. Carlos is a very nonbinary bisexual who is probably one of the main hearts of this new group.

Carlos’ background there is enough to tell us that he’s had a hard life, but then in the fourth episode the viewers and John learn that Carlos had been arrested, probably in the aftermath of a hunt, and given a choice between jail or military service. Carlos joined the Navy and from the rank on his sleeve, he actually outranked John (John was a Corporal (E4) while Carlos was a Petty Officer Second Class (E5)). Carlos clearly had a lot of trauma from Vietnam and is very reserved about his service. As he says to John, he doesn’t announce it to everyone and keeps it pretty under the radar. However, he still hangs out with veterans when he isn’t hunting.

Then we have Mary, who was raised in hunting. We learn that recently Samuel and Deanna got into a few arguments after their niece Maggie, who they had taken in and were raising, was killed the year before at the age of 17. The two split up and went their separate ways, hunting either on their own like Samuel, or meeting up with other groups like Deanna. Mary is still dealing with the aftermath of watching Maggie get killed and she doesn't even have either parent around to talk to, because both are missing.

And in enters John Winchester. He just came back from Vietnam and is haunted by his friend Hank Murphy’s death. As he starts to head back home, a man appears in front of him, gives him a letter claiming it’s from his father, which also expresses his father is now dead, and vanishes. The letter leads him directly to a Men of Letter’s Safe House and sends John spiraling down into this world.

As we progress through the series, we are seeing these characters are all searching for something while also trying to stop an invasion of their world by these mysterious Akrida. While this is going on, they each are dealing with significant trauma, but they are dealing with it in various ways. Ada, who is still a mystery, seems calm and collected but then we see her subitatly torturing a demon by ripping leaves off the tree it’s trapped in which like Carlos, made me take a step back for a moment. Mary is growing in a positive direction along with Lata. They are adopting a method Maggie used, writing down bad and good things that happened on post cards and beginning to let go of things that are harmful to them. Carlos had initially tried suppressing all the negative emotions but found talking about it has helped him significantly. Carlos now is part of a veteran’s therapy group, allowing him to talk through some of the trauma.

Yet for all this positive growth, we see John taking a hard turn into the negative. John is so frustrated, angry, and hurt. His trauma is coming out in explosive bursts of violence and he is refusing to talk to anyone. He is burring himself in hunting and he is shutting everyone out, shown at the end of the fourth episode when we see everyone else finding healthy outlets while he sits in a hot shower and Millie tries hard to show him that she is there and she supports him.

I honestly think that the story is going to have the other characters continue on a positive growth while John continues to trend in the direction of the John that we met in season one. I think that may be part of where the ‘twist’ comes in, that the angles realize John cannot be a ‘family’ man like this, and since the god has already removed all his visible scars of his trauma, they just erase his and everyone elses’ memories....after the Akrida are stopped of course. I am very interested to see where this is going to go, and when or if Samuel and Deanna get to make their appearances.

#The Winchesters #ada monroe #latika desai #carlos cervantez #mary campbell #john winchester

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bcrribcrry · 2 years

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[ han so hee. ciswoman. she/her. ] did you see JENNY MA wandering around town ? yeah, they’ve lived in forks for [ all her life. ] word around town is that they’re [ twenty-seven & a gifted human. ] people either describe them as [ reliable & loyal ] or [ temperamental & hardworking. ] there seems to be no in-between. well, when i think of them i picture [ an person who wears an facade until they are alone and stormy nights filled with harsh rain, thunder, and striking lightening. ] maybe if you’re lucky though, you’ll get to see them [ terrakinesis. ]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

NAME: jenny ma AGE: 27 SPECIES: gifted human SEXUALITY: lesbian PROFESSION: owner of ma’s hunting shop HAIR COLOR: brown SIGN: libra SKILLS / ABILITIES: terrakensis

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

she grew up fishing, hunting, camping, hunting - pretty much her world involved the forest from a young age to even now as she seeks out the forest for peace and quiet

you would often find her in the forest with her siblings and father as they grew up to become self-reliant so that if the economy were to ever go down - they can at least hunt and fish for their food!

after this comes trigger warnings of death & murder mentions !!!

her father ran a hunting shop called ma’s hunting shop, her mother has died during childbirth of her last sibling so they were practically raised alone by their father as other family members were out state!

her father died upon their footsteps with being shot in the chest five times when she was sixteen, home alone and scared as she was clutching him to her chest and screaming for help.

she grew with traumatic flashbacks to that event through night terrors and random triggers which is how she became diagnosed with ptsd by the age of eighteen

after this is the aftermath of the death of her father !!!

she has helped out at the shop and still manage to do so when becoming the official owner as her eldest sibling stepped down to continue their job and passion

she does still love to draw and paint and will often sell her paintings to make more money through that route to keep the shop open and such

she has slept at the shop for months on end at times due to just staying and waking up the next day to keep running

her youngest sibling helps out at the store with the finances and to keep things in stock - generally helping out at the store!

she always had terrakensis and she never truly understood how strong her powers just might be until she was older

being in nature is healing to her and she often uses her powers quietly in the forest to outlet some of her anger as well

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

positive traits: protective, reliable, loyal, compassionate

negative traits: temperamental, hardworking, slightly petty

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

someone that wants to work at the shop despite it being family-runned, could be a new employee or not - someone that’s desperate for a work paying job

best friends that she grew up with in town - maybe a small group that sticks together through the ups and downs - kinda like friends the tv show

enemies where people only wants to see her down fall and forfeit the shop, maybe someone wants to take the shop location to replace it with someone else - their own business you know??

more to come!

#evenfallhqsintro #jenny's intro.

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nikkiandherhouseofhorrors · 5 months

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Demons Within A Doll

Have you ever been bullied… Well, then I don’t know why I’m gonna tell you this story . The phrase ‘Be careful what you wish for’ needs to be taken way more seriously than you actually do. I can’t stress that enough since I didn’t until I was put in a situation that I couldn’t get out of before it was too late. You see, I wasn't popular in school. In fact, I was an outcast. I was nicknamed ‘Poorly’ a combination of poor and my name, Lily, because I had to get a scholarship in order to attend the school I wanted.

To make matters worse, the girl who had been my bully since grade school was there, too. She made it her mission to make my life miserable. Her name was Veronica Stanton, and she was a spoiled little daddy’s girl who had all the money and all the gifts she could ever want. On her left arm was her eye candy, the big-headed jock who was all muscle and no brain, Aiden Scott. Then there was her posse, 2 cheerleaders and 1 other jock boy, all the looks but no brains, just followed them around like every other cliche teen movie out there. Only in this case it was very real for my school. Their only target was me because Veronica said and so they had to follow.

Every day, it was stupid stuff, insults written on my locker, coffee poured on my head or splashed on my clothes, my gym clothes stolen from the locker room so I had to sit naked in a towel until someone helped me, my homework stolen and played off as their own. It was petty stuff, but it made me so mad and annoyed because it happened all the time there was no break in between. I was always tormented by this group of people and it never ended.

One day, however, all that changed, and I got a chance of a lifetime. I was locked out of the school yet again by Veronica and her group of idiots… I didn’t even bother to try to get back in. What good would it do and I just didn’t care that day. Walking around to cool myself off before I went home to unload all my stress onto my parents, I saw a strange-looking shop. I saw dolls everywhere. They weren’t glass, and they weren’t made out of cotton. These were hand stitched customizable dolls.

Shrugging my shoulders, I walk inside hearing a chime go off signaling I had entered, “Hello,” I call. I hear shuffling and crashing around as an old man’s head pops up from the back of the shop, startling me. “Oh… so sorry dear, didn’t mean to scare you. Have a look around, everything is half off,” the old man goes back to where he is doing whatever as I look around the shop. “What creepy looking dolls,” I mutter quietly to myself so I don’t offend the store owner. A doll with black yarn for hair catches my attention. Looking closer, I notice it looks just like Veronica, black yarn for hair, green buttons for eyes, pink stitching for lips, and her favorite purple sweater dress on the body. “Holy…. This looks just like-,” I get startled again as the shop owner pops up out of nowhere, “Ooh, that one's a beauty. It’s my best work, Violet Smith. She’s a rich girl who lives the high life. You can have her if you like,” he smiles with a toothless grin, which makes me shiver in disgust. “H-how much?” I ask, just wanting to leave this place.

“Well, I like you. So why don’t you just take her since she’s the only one of her kind? I insist, so don’t go trying to haggle me.” His words stun me as I pick up the doll. “Now, since the doll is so special, I’ll include a little bonus. This doll comes with a journal. It’s a wishing journal. Whatever you wish for, you write in this book and it will come true. But be warned for whatever you wish for. It may just come with a price.” I look at the man as he hands me the journal. Shoving me out the door with that same toothless grin, I start walking away listening to what he’s saying, “Tootles sweety and remember, be careful what you wish for.”

Getting home, I see my parents aren’t home. Heading towards the kitchen, I see a note in the fridge.

We’re sorry Honey. Dad got called on a business trip and because I don’t trust him because of last time, he told me I could come with. There are dinners in the fridge that should last you until we get home, again I’m so sorry, baby. We’ll be home soon or whenever your dad’s job doesn’t run him around.

Love, Mom

I huff, knowing this was bound to happen. My mom caught a very graphic email from his secretary about “Things she was going to do to him” and went on a rampage. So now she practically demands to come along with him everywhere he goes, go figure. Throwing my backpack on the floor, I sit down sighing. Looking at the doll, I glare at it, seeing my bully. “God, I hate you. You ruin my life every day. What did I ever do to deserve your abuse? I don’t understand you,” I say to the doll, my grip tightening around the neck of the doll as I talk. Looking over at the journal I raise a brow, picking it up with a pen I open it and think of a wish, “I wish… that you would know what it’s like to have nothing,” writing it down and closing it, I slam it down on my nightstand. Getting in my bed with a huff and going to sleep.

Getting to school, I head over to my locker just minding my own business. I thought it was strange that I haven’t had my head smashed into it yet, it usually takes 5 seconds for Veronica and her goon squad to do something. Then I hear some girls gossiping as they walk past me with my back to them, “Did you hear? Veronica’s dad was fired because he was stealing money from the company. Can you believe that, now her family has to pay for stuff on a budget.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Veronica has nothing now, I think but that made me realize. The wish I made about her knowing what it’s like to have nothing. That couldn’t have granted my wish, could it? Throughout the course of the day, Veronica decides to act melodramatic all day about the loss of her father’s job. Shockingly enough even the teachers were getting annoyed with her antics. Aiden was starting to act even more hostile than usual due to her state, guess who got the brunt end of that. So right now I’m sitting at home covered in Aiden’s protein shake.

“THAT STUPID MEAT-HEADED JOCK!” I scream slamming my way to the shower to clean off. When I finish, I sit on my bed, trying to think of ways to get him back. First, I head to my closet to use the doll as a stress relief, but once it’s in my hand, I notice it doesn’t look like Veronica anymore. It looks just like Aiden, the same blonde hair, blue eyes, black shirt, baggy jeans, and red and black letterman's jacket. I just stare at it, getting a weird feeling, but I ignore it to look at the journal that came with the doll. “Time to prove if you really did do what you did to Veronica. I wish Aiden Scott knew what it’s like to crash and burn.” I slam the journal shut in anger and get ready to go to bed. What I didn’t know was that wish would end up causing a huge problem.

When I wake up the next day, I see Veronica sobbing while talking to the police. I raise a brow in confusion. “No, I didn't know he was drinking while driving. I thought he stopped.” Her lip is trembling as they talk. “I can’t believe that Aiden is in the hospital. I mean to drink so badly and then smack dead on into a tree, well he’ll never play a game again,” I hear one of Veronica’s goons say. ‘I wish Aiden Scott knew what it’s like to crash and burn,’ the wish rang in my head.

It’s all I could hear as I continued to go through my day. I was both scared and nervous, but I was so enthralled with these wishes that I didn’t care and kept making wishes. With every wish I kept getting sick, pale, skinny, et cetera. I just couldn’t stop wishing it was like my brain was under a trance. My bullies were gone, my family was rich, I was popular, I had everything I wanted and more. Today is my last wish and I’m suffering. I’m grateful that I graduated High School and that my parents are out of town because the last wish has turned my doll into me and it’s time for me to go. I’ve always wanted to die because of the torment of my bullies, now that I’ve lived my life I have to go. I lay in bed with the notebook in hand and the doll laying on the pillow. My breathing is shallow but I have enough strength to raise my arms and write out my last wish.

All I think about is the memories I got with my new life. I smile to myself, thinking about how that store owner was a blessing, oh how wrong I am. I felt that strange feeling again. I started figuring out that it came from the doll after the 3rd wish. I’ve made up my mind, my last wish will be that my parents will have a generous compensation from my death. So weakly grabbing my pen, I write down my wish as I speak, “I want my parents to be taken care of when I die.” I have a small coughing fit.

I grab a kleenex and cough into it. Pulling it back, I see blood and I know in my heart, it’s time. Laying back down, I set the notebook down, place my hands on my stomach and take as much breath in as I can before my last. As my vision blurs, I feel a lot of negative energy invade my room. Red starts shining through in the corner of my room and I hear a disgruntled growl. My vision gets darker as a black cold hand takes a hold of my neck and squeezes that last bit of life left in me, I guess what they say is true ‘Be careful what you wish for’.

#horror stories #The plagues of my mind #nightmares #scarystories

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oitommothetease · 3 years

Text

Invisible String (2/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Warning: Sexual assault, mention of an anxiety attack.

Word Count: 1641

It turns out you definitely can't do this. Working in retail sucks, majorly. Customers are so awful to you and other employees as well. You didn't make the products, you don't control the prices, then why should you listen to them rant about it all day?

This job was from 9 am to 4 pm, which reminded you a lot of your previous job. By the time you got home, you were exhausted mentally and physically. Your current schedule was eerily similar to your previous lifestyle, which left you with no time to work on your book.

You felt like you were stuck in an insufferable loop that you just can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try. You thought about Mr. Barnes a lot, too. If only you weren't so egoistic and been a little nicer, then maybe you could have had that job.

With each passing day, you were becoming desperate. The only reason why you didn't run to Mr. Barnes a week ago was your pride. A pride that would not let you bow down to that rude, egoistic asshole.

It's like the universe could hear your thoughts and the devil himself walked through the doors of the store. Fuck, he can't see you here. He's going to think you're some nut job who's chasing stupid dreams after having an excellent degree. At least that's what your parents think.

You were about to run and hide behind an aisle when the voice you knew too well called out for you.

"Hey, do you know where I could find-"

"You," He said, without an emotion. "What are you doing here?"

You pointed towards the badge with the name tag on your shirt and mouthed working.

"Why?"

"Why?" You pretended to think, "I don't know, I interviewed for this other job about a week ago, but the boss was an ass."

"You lied to me," he stated as if it wasn't the most obvious thing.

"Gee, sorry, dad."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?" You questioned.

" Diverging a question with a joke," He answered with an unaffected tone like he was studying you and your reaction.

"You know who I am." he stated. It should have been a question, but both of you were aware of what he meant.

"A vampire?" You mocked. He didn't look like one though, but hey, neither did Edward nor Stefan. But God, those steel-blue eyes could drink you up and you wouldn't complain. Focus.

For the first time you saw an emotion on his face that wasn't unaffected or bored, he was confused. Of course, he was confused, you were referencing twilight to a mob boss (you think, you weren't sure, but that's all you could gather from all the articles you found about him online).

"I need that job," you confessed. " I know it's not very convincing, but I need you to trust me-"

He raised a brow at that and his lips turned into a smirk. God, you wished you could swipe off that smirk from his stupidly handsome face.

"But you don't trust me, " you stated dejectedly and started turning around. "You wanted something? "

In an instant, his hand wrapped around your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. You ignored the involuntary shudder that ran through you and immediately yanked your hand out of his grasp.

You turned around and were about to give him a piece of your mind about how he shouldn't just come to your place of work and touch you without consent. He clearly guessed your thoughts and cut in.

"Clint Barton, the manager, he will tell you everything you need to know about bartending and handling the customers."

Did he just hire you? What changed between this and your previous meeting with him?

And just like that, he left. There was a part of you that wanted to say fuck off I don't need your help, but you knew better, so you went to that club later that evening. You found the Manager, Clint. He told you he was expecting your arrival and that made you feel weird because Mr. Barnes was totally opposite the day you met.

Your new job required you to be at work from 8 pm to 3 am, which was ideal for you. You usually reach home and pass out till 4 in the morning and wake up around noon. This schedule gave you a lot of time to work on your book.

You ended up making friends with some other people that work there as well. Wanda was the smart, sarcastic one that you'd have died to have as a friend in high school. Pietro, her twin brother, was also nice, a bit fast and impatient, but he was nice to you. Peter looked very young, but he knew what he was doing and he'd help you out a lot. That kid had a lot of energy and adrenaline, which surprised you every time he'd be done with work way before you.

You didn't see Mr. Barnes frequently. You saw him one time entering the club, and you tried to give him a smile which he ignored and went straight to his office upstairs. And then you decided to ignore him as well. It wasn't like you to be petty, okay, maybe you were being petty, but in your defense, he started it.

You were finishing up cleaning the table and were about to call it a day when a man you didn't recognize, probably wasn't a regular, came in asking for a drink.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're closed." You told him politely.

"Whiskey on the rocks."

You wanted to refuse him again, but you stopped yourself when he came into your sight. He didn't look like the kind of man who'd take your no seriously. He looked just as intimidating as Mr. Barnes, even more, but Mr. Barnes knew his boundaries, whereas this man in front of you evidently didn't. You could tell this by the way his gaze was slowly taking your body in and stopping a little longer at your cleavage.

You wanted to cringe and curse yourself for choosing to wear a top like that in a place filled with drunk men. The smarter part of your brain told you that he can go fuck himself, and you shouldn't think about men when you dress up. Women are entitled to wear whatever they want to and fuck men and people who tell them otherwise.

Carefully, you made his drink and handed it to him. His hand lingered on yours while taking the glass from you, and you wanted to just throw the drink across his face. His gaze remained on your chest even when you fixed your top and coughed twice to call his behavior out.

"What time do you get off?" he asked, eyes still on your chest.

Is this guy for real? , you thought.

"Um, this is highly inappropriate and I think you should leave now because I have to call it a night." you rejected politely, raising your hand towards the door, hoping he'd leave.

He chuckled darkly, his stare still drinking in your body as if you were a piece of meat, and it made you very, very uncomfortable. He obviously wasn't taking no for an answer, and you had no clue what to do. You were the only person left, and you didn't even know who to ask for help.

"Come on, baby girl," he said, walking towards you and forcefully snaking his hands around your waist to settle on your hips. " Don't make this harder than it should be. "

"No!" you yelled, pushing him away and creating some distance between you.

"Hard way it is then," he decided, walking towards you and forcefully holding the hem of your shirt in his hands to remove it. You struggled, yelled, and pushed him off you again. He furiously lunged forward towards you and hit you hard across the face. "Fucking bitch."

"Rumlow!" a voice boomed from behind you, and you hated yourself for being in such a vulnerable state. As much as you tried not to, tears welled up in your eyes and you hated being the helpless damsel in distress.

"Get the fuck out of here." the familiar voice ordered.

"Chill, Barnes. We were just having a little fun," the man known as Rumlow reasoned nonchalantly. "Besides, it's not my fault if she wears clothes like this."

You were all about feminism and how women should be treated equally with respect despite their attire, but at that moment you hated yourself for choosing that deep-neck shirt this morning.

"I'm not going to chill while you sexually harass my employees, so get the fuck out of here," Mr. Barnes warned again.

You closed your eyes and hoped that maybe this was a shitty dream and you'd wake up in your bed and have an anxiety attack because of the nightmare. You hoped that maybe the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you, so you could just not think about this ever.

You heard two sets of footsteps faintly in the background, one dragging its way away from you and the other rushing towards you. Furthermore, you didn't have it in you to open your eyes and meet the ocean blue ones that you knew were waiting for you.

In your head, you had already taken up the blame. The verdict came out the moment his gaze landed on your chest that it was your fault that you wore this shirt. Of course, if you were thinking right, you would have realized that you were undoubtedly the victim here and Rumlow was an asshole who assaulted you, but in your helpless state, your mind decided you were at fault here.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams

#mobster bucky #mob bucky #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mobbucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #mob!bucky series #bucky series #bucky barnes #bucky barnes series

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sugako · 3 years

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sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #hq smut

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harrysweasleys · 3 years

Text

to find each other // g.w

summary: Hi love I was wondering if I could request a george x reader. I like the whole like when you're angry or anything write to the person but never send it but one day George finds the love letter. And reader is all embarased and runs away before he can tell her he like her so he writes her a love letter. (Also I'm aware this is a george ask but in my mind fred didnt die. I'm also imagining this before the battle but fred still doesnt die). If this doesnt spark anything that totally fine. Thanks

warnings: mentions of war, blood and death (relax, it aint fredward)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this request was so cute and i enjoyed writing this so much! also i hope you don’t mind that i changed up the time that it takes place just a tad. also i want a love letter from george, thanks.

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted to any other platform.]

———————————————————————

No amount of window shopping could hide the anxious bubbling in your stomach. Diagon Alley, though usually one of your favourite places, was currently the cause of your shaky fingers and heavy breathing. It was the last day of summer holidays, and for the countless students returning to Hogwarts, it meant a place to get away from home, a place that they could escape to to get away from the chaos of the real world.

However, for you, it meant that things would get messy. That the raging war that was brewing in the evil corners of the Wizarding World was bound to strike. And strike hard.

Dangers lurked around every corner and even the comforting atmosphere of Diagon Alley was no longer a place you wanted to be. Countless shops were boarded shut, their windows shattered to pieces as if an attack had taken place. Which was most likely the case, if you were being honest.

The only store that seemed to be alive also happened to be the one that you wanted to avoid at all costs. The large purple and orange shop stood practically glowing in the middle of the gloomy alley, music and laughter echoing from the inside. You had to give credit where credit was due; the shop owners were brilliant.

Students piled in and out in dozens — you couldn’t blame them. Fred and George had a knack for making people laugh. And right now, people needed laughs more than ever. You couldn’t blame these young students for stocking up on joke products to keep themselves entertained for the year. Especially since everyone was well aware this may be the last year of ‘normalcy’ that they get.

However, the shop seemed to be doing marvellously. You’d go in to say hi if it wouldn’t crush your entire existence to do so. Slightly dramatic, but true. You hadn’t left things off on a good foot with George, and the last thing you wanted to do was go in there and make things awkward. After all, maybe he had moved on.

The last time you saw him, he held your crumpled note in his hand, his broom in the other, and a proud smile on his face as he waved goodbye to the school behind him. The school in which you two shared some of your best moments, the inside jokes and the late nights giggling into pillows in the dark of the common room.

Until the note.

The one you had written him the night you found out he was leaving. The one with tear drop stains and smudged ink — the one that confessed your long-rooted love for the ginger boy that had stolen your heart the first day you met him.

He had found it himself, actually. It wasn’t “given to him,” per say. He had snuck into the girl’s dorm — how, you still have no clue — and found you crying on your lumpy four-poster, your hair a disheveled mess and your cheeks bright red from sobbing. You had been furious at him. Not because you were mad, but because you’d miss him. Miss his smile, the way he brought light to every boring class, and you’d miss the way he made you feel like home, even though your home home was miles and miles away.

He’d found the messy parchment scrunched up on your dresser and picked it up at the sight of his name. He didn’t let you take it away from him, so you made him promise he’d read it after he was long gone from school. So that you could be saved from the embarrassment of him not feeling the same. The last thing you wanted was to have to sit through the last few months of school with your best friend hating your guts for the unfortunate feelings you had developed.

You thought you were way over him by now, but looking up into the glorious glass windows of his store, you were hit with a wave of nausea. Not because you didn’t want to see him, but because you wanted to see him so badly it was sickening. To be fair, it had only really been two years, but still. Had he missed you? Had he sat there every night, clutching your wrinkled love letter and thinking back to the moments you two shared?

You shook your head and walked past the shop, trying your best not to peer in through the windows and catch sight of the familiar grinning man. He somehow always had a smile on his face and that was something you could really appreciate, especially right now. Nothing ever seemed to bring him down and that was one of the things you appreciated most.

———————————————————————

“What’re you grinning at, Weasley?” you asked, a smile on your own lips as you gave George a teasing look, your hands running through his hair as he sat on the ground between your legs, eyes focused on the common room fire that was slowly burning down to embers.

“Nothing,” he replied, “Just… taking it all in.”

Gryffindor had won the House Cup just that evening, along with the Quidditch Cup just a few days before. You supposed George did actually have quite a bit to smile about, but as he sat there, his eyes slightly dazed and a lazy grin on his lips, something told you it actually had to do with something else.

“Right,” you replied, taking your hands out of his soft hair and leaning back on the couch, “Because I totally believe you.”

He turned around, his smile never faltering, “What? You’re gonna give me a hard time for being in a good mood? C’mon, let me live, woman.”

You tossed your head back, cheeks flushed, “Fine. The day you don’t have a smile on your face is the day I’ll know something’s wrong, yeah?”

Sitting up and crashing next to you on the couch, he gave you quite the exaggerated nod before dropping it and gazing softly into your eyes, “Around you, how can anything ever be wrong?”

———————————————————————

Popping in and out of stores seemed to be the best distraction — Quidditch Supplies, Pets, Quills, the best Parchment in town — all stores that you remember running in and out of while you were just a wee child, hoping to buy the top quality items for another long year at school.

You’d been so distracted by the sound of children laughing and charging by you that you barely registered the fact that you had walked into a tall body. Luckily, your balance hadn’t been knocked over, but you had been walking at such a quick pace that you’re surprised the other person didn’t go falling backwards.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, looking up and catching your step, nearly losing it completely as your eyes caught sight of the person in front of you.

Eyes still golden like the sun, George Weasley hadn’t changed. His hair was slightly longer and he wore nicer clothing — perks of running your own business — but he hadn’t changed a day. His lips were still a deep pink, and the freckles on his cheek seemed to be more prominent than you remember.

“Y/N?” the corners of his lips turned up into a smile, “Bloody hell, what are you doing here?”

You stared up, mind completely blank, “Oh — It’s — I’ve gotta go.”

His hand shot out to grab your wrist, his fingers leaving a touch of sparks in their wake. You snapped it away, rubbing over the skin to soothe the electrifying touch that George left behind. Even years later, he still had that effect on you, and you wished more than anything that you could curse him out for it.

“Y/N, blimey, wait, let’s catch up,” he shrugged, eyes pleading, “What’re you running from? We were best friends. I’ve missed you. It’s been two bloody years, woman.”

“You know damn well why that changed,” you grumbled, trying your best to look anywhere but his inviting eyes. You knew that if you made eye contact, you’d be sucked right back into whatever hold he had on you while you were in school. You weren’t sure you could deal with that right about now.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Look, Y/N, please. Just stay for a few minutes. Come see the shop, yeah? Reckon Fred’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You gave in and looked up at him, already knowing you wouldn’t be able to say no. He was right, you guys were best friends. You were inseparable. They always say catching feelings for your best friend is a beautiful thing, but in your case it felt like the worst thing to happen. You fell head over heels for George and he had no clue. He continued living his life, continued doing the things he loved, and then he left.

You only hoped the letter kept him up at night. As petty as that was.

“Fine,” you let out a deep breath, “Just a few minutes.”

You nearly missed the wide grin that spread across his face, showcasing the beautiful smile that still managed to leave your chest in a fluttery mess. You internally scolded yourself — you weren’t over your feelings and chances are this was going to make things worse.

The shop was magnificent. Shelves lined the walls as far as the eye could see. And even though Diagon Alley was nearly deserted, the shop seemed to be thriving — not that you were surprised. Kids and young adults huddled in groups to gawk and stare at the latest products, eyeing everything with keen interest as George’s twin, Fred, explained to them how things worked.

“You did good,” you smiled up at George, all hostility towards him fading as the bubbly atmosphere of the shop engulfed you, making you feel as if you were transported back to your childhood, “I’m proud of you guys.”

“Blimey,�� George grinned, placing his hand on your shoulder, “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

Your smile faded and you turned away from him, cheeks burning at his comment.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he spun you back around to face him, “I just meant because it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, to be honest.”

You bit your lip, nodding slowly, “I know. I’m sorry. It was just so hard to work up the courage to see you.”

You weren’t exactly lying. After what happened, you couldn’t find it in yourself to face him. But that wasn’t the whole truth, really. Your courage and confidence had left with him, there was no way you’d be able to come here and see him happy with someone else. Someone that wasn’t you.

“I actually have something for you,” he held his finger up and rushed out of sight, up the stairs and through a door. You stood awkwardly, debating whether you should just turn around and walk out of the store and into the city. He’d never be able to track you down. But, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to move your feet. You were grounded in the moment, still gazing at all the trinkets and items around you.

Some made noise, some were brightly coloured — some of them even looked like that evil witch Headmistress Umbridge. You stifled a laugh, remembering the times you and the twins had narrowly escaped her wicked grasp. She was not one for fun, that was certain.

———————————————————————

“Down here!” you called, grabbing George’s hand and running down another dark corridor, Filch’s footsteps still echoing behind the two of you.

“When I catch ya, you’ll be expelled!” his grimy voice reached your ears, sending you into another fit of giggles as you linked your fingers with George’s, the two of you barreling down the stairs and continuing your run up to the Gryffindor tower. You had to admit, it was quite far, but if you kept up this speed, Filch and his limp wouldn’t be able to catch up.

“Wait, there’s a prefect,” George whispered through his heavy breathing, giving your hand a heavy tug and pulling you behind a pillar.

Your body fell against his, the two of you squished in a tiny space as you heard the distant voice of the Ravenclaw prefect approaching your hiding spot. George’s breathing was heavy, his chest rubbing against yours with each inhale he took. Your breathing would be heavy if you weren’t having heart palpitations, his body so close to yours you couldn’t think straight.

“Reckon that’s another narrow escape,” he chuckled, breath fanning your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, way too caught off guard to properly process his words.

Did he realize what this did to you? This closeness, this intimacy?

It was undoubtedly true — you were falling for your best friend.

———————————————————————

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N,” Fred sauntered over, hands in his pockets and a bright grin on his face, “What brings you to our little corner of the wizarding world?”

He brought his arms out for an embrace; one that you gladly accepted. He was warm and familiar, and you felt a grin spread across your face.

“It’s nice to see you, Freddie,” you pulled away, “You guys have really blown me away with all of this.”

“Well, what can I say?” he shrugged, tips of his ears turning slightly pink, “We’ve clearly got a knack for entrepreneurship.”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling in your chest. You always knew they’d be successful — hell, you told them a million times — but seeing it in person after all these years of shutting yourself away, it sort of felt like a dream. As if you’d missed quite possibly the biggest event of their lives.

And you felt like a horrible friend.

“Sorry I wasn’t more supportive,” you said softly, “I really am impressed.”

He lifted his hand and ruffled your hair, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We knew you always had your full support.”

Before you could respond, George came rushing back down the stairs. You were rather thankful for it, as your conversation with Fred was causing your emotions to come through. You could feel your throat closing in and the familiar sting of tears in your eyes, but George’s presence caused your feelings to shift.

He nudged his brother away and stood in front of you, an envelope in hand. On the front of it, your name was scribbled in swirly handwriting — George’s, you recognized — and you could see the faint outline of parchment inside it.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking the envelope from his hands as he shoved it in your direction, his cheeks a tad pinker than before.

He let out a deep breath, “You’ll see when you open it.”

You nodded, placing the envelope gently into your purse, “I’ll open it when I’m home.”

“Okay,” he responded instantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. You knew it was a nervous habit of his, and it raised a question as to what could possibly be in that envelope that had him so on edge.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve gotta get going,” you said, your voice barely audible. But by the way George’s shoulders slouched, you knew he heard you. He took his hands out of his pockets and pulled you in for a hug.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms tightly around him, resting your head on his shoulder and taking in a deep breath. He smelled the same as he did all those years ago, and although he was the same height, he also definitely felt a lot stronger.

Lifting boxes on a daily basis has taken its toll.

You couldn’t count how many hugs you’d shared with George during your time at Hogwarts, but something about this hug felt different. It felt final, conclusive. As if you both knew that this would be the final time you’d get to see each other.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, mouth mere inches from your ear.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied right away, pulling your body away from his to look into his eyes. You tried your best to force a smile, but it most likely only came off as a grimace. After all, you couldn’t find anything to feel enthusiastic about in the moment.

You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, letting your hand linger on his arm for a second longer than intended, before pulling away and leaving the store without another word.

It was safe, and very unfortunate, to say your feelings were still very much present.

———————————————————————

You stared down at the paper, stunned. It was possibly your seventh time reading it and you still couldn’t believe it.

After all these years, he felt the same.

George Weasley felt the same.

You lifted the letter, once again preparing yourself to read it, wiping your eyes with an already soaked tissue.

Y/N,

I don’t know much about writing letters with a romantic goal, but I do know that I couldn’t leave yours unanswered. There were too many things left in the air, and I might never even get to give this to you, but it’s worth writing anyways.

I remember the first day we met. Do you remember? We were in second year and you fell down the stairs onto Freddie. You were so cute, and so flustered. It was nearly immediately after that that we became friends, if I remember correctly. (Which I always do.)

Skip forward a few years and you practically owned my heart and soul. I barely went a moment without thinking of you. Of your smile, of your laugh, of your hair and your face. You know, I did it on purpose. All the jokes, they were for you. To make you laugh. Bloody cliche, I know. But that’s the truth, love.

When I left school, it was hard. Not because I’d have to start a whole new life, but because I’d have to start that life without you. Without your constant positivity and your radiance. It was nearly impossible, but you were so proud. So proud of Freddie and me that I knew I couldn’t let you down.

But I did. I left you there, in that horrid place with that toad woman. And I regret that to this day. I read your note every day. I still do. It’s the only thing of yours that I have in my life and I cherish it more than you know.

So, this note kind of has no purpose, but it does have a point. The point is that I love you too. That I’ve loved you for a long time, and chances are that I always will. You’re the best part of me and that’ll never change.

Please take care. And I hope we get to find each other.

Yours forever,

George.

You read it again, and again, and again, and could barely process the words on the tattered parchment. It was a pretty neat piece, which indicated that there was no way he wrote two years ago. It had to be recent — within the last year. And the fact that he decided to give it to you now meant that he might even still feel this way.

With the amount of times you envisioned George professing his undying love to you, not once did you think it would be in these circumstances. With the two of you living different lives.

You went to bed that night, the note tucked under your pillow. You couldn’t part with it. Even though you had no clue what to do about said note, you didn’t want to let go of it. It was true, and all these years later you finally realized it. All the shared touches, the laughs, the smiles across classrooms; it all made sense. Not only were you falling hopelessly in love with your best friend, but he was doing the exact same thing.

And I hope we get to find each other.

If that meant what you thought — what you hoped — it meant, then maybe there was a chance for you. But for that chance to happen, you had a lot that you needed to sort out. What would this mean? Would you two start from scratch?

You hadn’t exactly had any sort of relationship over the past two years, how would you just jump into something like this? Maybe him giving you the letter was his form of closure, his way of telling you that maybe it could have happened, but now there’s no chance.

You didn’t want to dwell, but there was no way you couldn’t. How does one let something like this go? You can’t. You can’t go back to living a normal life with this knowledge hanging over your head.

He loved you.

If only there was a way you could talk to him, clear the air. Maybe he did still feel the same.

———————————————————————

Hogwarts was, to put it kindly, in the middle of chaos. Spells of bright green and red shot out from every which direction, hitting columns and occasionally, other bodies. You passed lifeless bodies on the ground and couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Some of them you might even recognize, and that wasn’t something you could bring yourself to feel right about now. Your emotions were running wild enough as it is; the last thing you needed was to find the body of someone you loved.

Your wand was tightly gripped in your hand, your mouth repeating the same spells over and over as Death Eaters continued to swarm the homely school grounds. You had called this place ‘home’ for seven years and yet now, it was the last possible place you wanted to be. You wanted to turn around and run, never to look over your shoulder again.

But you couldn’t.

There was no way you could bring yourself to leave. Not now.

“Well, what ‘ave we got ‘ere?”

You spun on the spot, coming face to face with the sunken eyes of a Death Eater. His voice sounded awfully familiar, but that was really the least of your problems right about now. His wand was raised in your direction, his lips already beginning to move.

You raised your own wand, ready to fire out the first spell you could think of. But the man went flying back into the wall before you could even open your mouth. You gaped down at your wand, trying to figure out how the hell you managed to do that without even thinking of the spell.

“Reckon that’s about the fourth time I’ve saved you.”

You turned to the sound of the voice, recognizing it immediately. George’s hair was tousled like crazy, and he had a bandage tightly wound around his head. You could see faint blood where his ear should be, and your heart did a quick flip in your chest. You had heard about his accident — you had run into Ginny in the Great Hall, but seeing his wound and his face in person brought an unsettling feeling to your chest.

“George,” you sighed, running over to him without a second doubt. You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, squeezing harder than you thought. But he didn’t seem to mind, his arms finding their way around your waist and holding you up, his head finding its spot in the crook of your neck as he let out a low chuckle. You could feel the warmth of his skin, and in that moment, he felt so real. As if two years apart had never happened. As if everything said between you two in your letters was unspoken, but acknowledged.

You pulled your head away from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. The eyes that had been a comfort source in your life for so many years. As if looking into them brought out all of your confidence, you gave him a shy smile before leaning down and pressing your lips against his.

You immediately pulled away from him before either of you could register the action, letting yourself fall back down to your feet as you looked up into his eyes. He didn’t blink, his mouth hanging open.

Maybe you made a terrible mistake.

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

You were cut off by his hands on each side of your face, pulling you in for a second kiss. One that lasted much longer.

His lips were incredibly soft against yours, moulding as if this was the place they were meant to be. Your hands went up into his hair, giving a small tug as he pulled your body closer to his. It was as if all the war and death around you two didn’t exist — the only thing you could focus on was George’s warmth and the eruption of butterflies that went off in your body.

After what felt like hours, you pulled away and looked up at him. His lips were swollen and red, his breathing slightly uneven, but he looked happy.

“That was long overdue,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

You let out a breathy laugh, “Definitely.”

———————————————————————

taglist

@grierpilots

@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

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@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

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@susceptible-but-siriusexual

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley one shot #george weasley one shots #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years

Text

Pet Owners Part 1

Owning pets is rare for nations because a true nation’s pet has a bond with their owners as much as they do the land. Many of their pets don’t really have something they represent inexactness, it's just they were there when the nation was born, and they bonded. No one can really explain how they come to find their owners, both parties just know.

Some nations don’t have the nation pet, but instead either found a mythical creature or own regular pets that will eventually die.

America – A big black shaggy dog. Allen has owned Makwa since he was a small child. No matter where he went Makwa would follow. This mini mammoth is very protective of Allen and has bitten Oliver many times. This dog has even followed Allen into war zones. Their bond is as deep as man and dog can go.

He is Allen’s best friend and more often than not the wall he bounces off of. Whether he is venting, planning, or just sleepy mumbling, Allen takes the time to talk to Makwa.

England – Flying Chocolate Bunny (FCB) and Flying Strawberry Bunny (FSB). These mythical evil bunnies are downright monsters. Unlike his 1p that has only one, Oliver has two. Both nations discovered their bunny allies together, but instead of taking just one. Oliver decided to take two. They were found when the nations were about 150 yrs old.

Since mythical creatures have longer lifespans, they aren’t nation pets and die much later than an average pet.

FCB has red beady eyes and is the color of dark chocolate. His wings are shaped more like raptor’s wings and have a white chocolate underside to his wings. FCB often twitches and drools and looks like he is about to eat the nearest piece of flesh. He is known for being wilder and more chaotic, he does some of the dirty work for Oliver by getting physically involved. Scratching and biting Oliver’s victims, slowly driving them mad by wounds made from an unseen force.

FSB on the other hand is much sweeter. She is a light red with small yellow spots. Her wings look like a swan's, and have a light green underwing. Her eyes are small beady and green. FSB looks like a toy rabbit, small and fluffy. She is Oliver’s eyes and ears. She spies on whomever Oliver asks her to and takes the time to ensure that Oliver has whatever information that he needs. When Oliver had many colonies she was the one sent to spy on them. She is quick and knows how to use magic to shorten her fly time.

Oliver loves his bunnies and feeds them a lot of cupcakes and meat. He spoils them with fancy beds and toys. Though he does expect them to earn their keep with various tasks given by him.

Canada – A big white polar bear. Kuma is Canada’s oldest frenemy, over the years they have traded blows and saved each other. The amount of trust these two have is unrivaled by any other nation and their pets. Kuma has been with Canada since he was about a week old. Kuma is a typical adult polar bear with a scar across his left shoulder and it splits his fur.

Canada’s scars on his chest come from Kuma. They got really intense in a fight one day and came at each other for blood. That same fight gave Kuma his scar. Both winded up extremely wounded and ignored each other for a week before making up.

Over the years Kuma mostly follows Matt’s orders. But occasionally Kuma acts like a brat and ignores Canada. Kuma has his own little house outside that Canada built, but he also has a huge mat on the floor inside Matt’s cabin.

Japan – Koi. Like it’s been said before, Japan likes koi. They are beautiful and he owns many. He has been keeping them since he was physically about 12 years old. He has a pond that connects to a tank within his home. It is a huge tank that has all the proper fixings that allow for a comfortable space for his fish.

He invests heavily in the industry and always checks the farms himself when he has the time. Many family farms know of Kurai, at least a fake name he puts out, and newer farms hope to receive his blessings. His name carries a lot of respect and honor for the koi industry and those that don’t meet his standards close shop quickly.

Every so often he will enter his koi in contests. He loves to know that his are the best and has many ribbons from the past ones he has either won or come close to winning.

Germany – A small brown tabby. Luther loves his tiny kitty and spends many a nap with this little baby on his lap. His little tabby is called Winzig and her name is literally her size. Winzig was found by Luther one night after making his way home after a night of drinking about a year ago. She was small and hiding under a box by his apartment. In his drunken stupor, he picked up the kitten without thinking and brought her home. She is actually his third cat.

There were two others he had owned in the past. His first was a calico that was named Schnurrhaare (Whisker). She was very aloof, but they too napped together often. She sadly died in the year 1901. His second cat Axel came to him about 1950 and was a gift from his boss. Axel was a big Mainecoon that looked like a burnt cookie. He acted more like a dog than a cat and Luther loved him. They played fetch together.

None of Luther’s cats have been a true nation pet. So, each one has passed, Winzig is still young and very lively so she has a while still with Luther. Though the other two, Luther has kept their collars and buried them behind his father’s house. He leaves little bits of string on their graves for them.

Rome – This old man had a lion. Not just any lion, the extinct European lion. Mars was the name of this old boy and Rome had him from the time he was a child. At first, Mars was unsure about Rome and chased him. Over time the two became close. Mars didn’t have a huge mane it was more of a gentle fluff around his head and down his chest. His body and head were covered in scars. Mars was known to have a light pale coated rather than the deep dusty color of many of his brethren. He had a regal air about him and Rome cherished his lion a lot.

When Rome passed Mars lived on, but not much longer than Rome. He lived about 5 years while being taken care of by Luciano. Mars being old then, didn’t do much and seemed to enjoy the calm final years that Luciano offered him. He got a bigger and cooler grave than his master did.

Prussia – Alvin is an old destrier and looks like a Percheron. Lightly colored with dark grey boots and muzzle. Alvin has been with Wil since he was born, this stocky little foal just showed up outside and has been with him ever since. Alvin has been Wil’s first pick of steed into every battle that used horses and Alvin like his owner is brave and loyal.

Both master and pet love spending nights together riding through the woods. Prussia gives Alvin lots of training and treats. They are so close that more often than not spend many afternoons together. Alvin is also trained for various horse competitions.

Spain – So we all know this man owns a bull. Idiota is special to Armando even though he won't admit it. When Armando is tending to his fields Idiota is there giving a presentation of an old friend. Many believe that Idiota is a nation pet because of how long he has lived and Spain agrees. As much as he gets angry at his bull being stupid he could never bring himself to part with the bull.

The centuries of being petty with each other make it interesting to both parties. Though in times of danger both have each other's backs. Once during a siege when Spain was young, Idiota was all that stood between him and Rome. Though despite losing, it took Rome impaling the bull and beheading it to keep it from defending a young Spaniard.

Netherland – He has a snake. It’s a simple grass snake that often hangs out with him at home. He loves his little snake and named him Hazel. He says his snake looks like a Hazel. Baas and Hazel go on many adventures when the weather is ok for Hazel. He takes him to the store, to meetings with his boss, and other places. They spend lots of time gathering info on people and just pulling pranks. Baas believes that Hazel enjoys it as much as his master.

Hazel has a huge terrarium with plenty of space, heating lights, and pools of water. It takes up a whole wall in Baas’ home. It also contains fish and other small creatures that make the tank self-sustaining.

Baas relates to his danger noodle; in that, he sees himself almost the same as his snake. Both are hidden predators that take care of nasty rats. Which happens to relate to his favorite thing to do with Hazel, feed him.

Austria – A Greater Mouse-Eared Bat, I mean what could be better for him. Austria found Krampus around Christmas time when he heard some noises coming from his attic. Krampus had found his way into the attic and freaked out trying to get out. This caused a tear in his wing, and Austria being surprised by this tiny nightmare.

Austria feeling the spirit of Christmas was compassionate and took care of the bat. First, he forced his way into a vet clinic and had his little Krampus looked at. Krampus's huge tear would heal, but it makes it difficult for him to fly again. That was the vet’s opinion and then went off to call a sanctuary to come and collect the bat. Well, Jon didn’t like that and ran off with Krampus.

Since then Jon has done a lot to ensure his little friend was becoming better. Eventually, the wing healed, but not well enough for flying. So Jon has a little bat that can glide short distances and has a little cave in his home. Krampus gets all the proper nutrition and cleanings.

Though shortly after bringing Krampus home, Jon did call Matt. Matt had some words for Jon when he found out what he did.

Switzerland – This man loves goat cheese, so obviously he wanted goats. He and his 1p own a small herd together that they both manage. Vash does most of the physical labor while Hans makes them look good for competition and takes care of their papers.

They are all Swiss breeds and earn their keep by giving milk. They have a great life with all the latest things for goat care. Hans even personally watches the new items get installed to ensure that it is done right and that his goats are given something nice.

Hans pets them often and coos to them as he does. He keeps plenty of treats on hand, to the point all the herd runs toward him wanting treats.

Iceland – Mr. Puffin or Puff as Iceland calls him. This is puffin is nothing like his gangster 1p. He wears a small top hat and monocle. He is much more gentlemanly and often speaks about how Iceland could be better behaved. He often says things like stand straight, address the lady with respect, and so on. Unlike most nations and their pets growing up at the same rate, Puff was an adult when he met baby Iceland. Which concerned 2p Norway, because he could have been some kind of monster trying to destroy his new colony. One of the few times Norway showed concern for Iceland.

Though being the typical expectation for nation pets, Iceland loves Puff. They spend time together going about and causing havoc and attempting to win Norway’s attention. Though Puff still tells Iceland that there are better things to do than pursue Norway, but Iceland wants his brother’s love and acceptance.

Puff does his best to keep Iceland under control and professional, but he fails often. Though he refuses to give up and rather would keep on taking care of his young ward.

#2p hetalia #2p headcanons #2p america #2p canada #2p england #2p switzerland #2p iceland #2p netherlands #2p austria #2p spain #2p rome #2p prussia #2p germany #2p japan #2p pets

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heroofpenamstan · 3 years

Text

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy, @shellibisshe, @belorage, @honeysides, @strafethesesinners, @faithchel, @blissfulalchemist! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

#tag game #deputy joanne burton #michael s. hughes #oc: get to know jo #oc: build a bicycle #my stuff #far cry 5 oc

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 years

Text

Blood Hungry: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

“The guy the kid described definitely sounds like a tweaker,” you say once you, Spencer, and the cops show back up at the police station.

“Pull the files of all the methamphetamine arrests in the past six months,” the sheriff asks of the deputy.

“Will do.”

“We should narrow the suspect list down according to the guy's residence. Crimes like these are always crimes of opportunity,” Spencer points out.

“So the first guy on our suspect list will live in the closest proximity to the victim.”

“Do you have a place where we can set up?”

“You can use Simpson's desk. He's out. You got a phone there and a computer. Meantime, I'm gonna narrow down that list,” Sheriff Hall says.

You and Spencer walk over to the desk, and you take a seat on the edge of it while Spencer sits on the actual chair.

“You know, that house was full of chaotic energy. I saw Annie walk around her house, and I felt Wally’s energy as well as both unsubs. One was violent and angry while the other was jittery and nervous. There was only one killer, and the other guy didn’t even know what he was doing.”

“That can help us when we determine who’s on our suspect list,” Spencer nods.

“Hey, you guys find anything?” Derek asks as he and Hotch enter the station.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Y/N found an eyewitness. A little boy who saw someone in the driveway.”

“That's more than we got at Thompson's place,” Hotch shrugs.

“We got two suspects,” JJ and Elle make their way over to everyone else. “Judd Franklin and Domino Thacker.”

“Can I see them?” you ask, and JJ hands over the files.

Both men are equally suspicious, but Domino is the one who screams at you to catch him. You hand over the file to Derek who reads it.

“I know Domino. He's bad news. Serious tweaker. Cooks his own stuff,” Sheriff Hall butts in.

“Does he live near the crime scenes?” Elle asks.

“Almost directly between them.”

“Robbery, armed robbery, possession, and possession with intent. This guy's been hospitalized for overdoses and attempted suicide,” Derek reads.

“What do you think?” Hall asks.

“We need to find Domino,” you conclude.

Derek and some burly cops went to get Domino which was the best idea they had. According to Derek, this guy ran and tried to fight back. However, due to his small stature and nervous outlook, he was easily caught and brought back to the station where Sheriff Hall placed him behind bars. This guy is wearing nothing but his underwear, so he was given a blanket due to him shivering like a Chihuahua.

“Hey, Hotch, I think it’s best if I talk to this guy. His energy is spiking in every direction, and I know I can make a connection with him easily.”

“Okay,” he nods.

Him, Derek, and Elle want to see this pan out, so they follow you to where the suspect is. From only one glance, you know this guy is the thief and not the killer. His energy matches the nervous energy you saw at the house. He is the one who robbed Annie, not killed her.

“I’m freezin’,” Domino complains as he scratches at his head.

You, Hotch, and Sheriff Hall are the only ones inside the cell while Derek and Elle are hanging outside of it.

“Domino, what were you doing at Annie Stuart’s house?” you ask gently.

“I didn't do nothin'. I got the flu. I'm sick is what I am,” he sniffles.

“We know you were there, boy,” Hall glares.

“Sheriff,” you whisper and shake your head when he looks at you.

“In the driveway. I was lookin' at that car, but I never stoled it. I was thinkin' about it, but I left. I seen that kid.”

“The blood found on the bottom of your boot is Annie Stuart's. The tread from the bottom of your boot is the same as the tread found all over the crime scene. Inside!” Elle yells.

“Elle, stop,” you snap and glare at her.

She is not helping this situation.

“Deputy. Coming out,” she sighs and leaves since she knows she won’t be of any help here.

“I didn't do nothin',” Domino whimpers.

“Domino,” you sigh and bend down so he doesn’t have to look up at you. “Look at yourself. You have a record and the blood of Annie all over you. How do you think that’s going to hold up in court? Think about that.”

“I... I… came back. I came back to her house. But he was leavin'.”

“Who?”

“Some dude, man. I don't know.”

“What was he wearing?” you ask.

“He had a hood. A black hood.”

“Domino, look at me,” you order gently, and he just shakes his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. No one is. I just want to talk to you. Come on, look at me.” He finally does and you can see just how scared he was. “You didn’t do this, did you?” He shakes his head. “Okay, if that’s true, then you gotta help us out here. Talk to me. You left. You saw him leave. Then what?”

“Went in and--and she's lying there. You know, um, I needed money real bad so... she was already like that.”

“She was like what?”

“You know, she was all cut up,” he starts to cry.

“She was all butchered up and you robbed her anyway?”

“It ain't right!” he yells, and you stand back up. This interview is done. “It ain't right! I'm sorry! It ain't right. Oh, god, forgive me. Oh, god... It ain't right! I'm sorry!”

“We’re done here,” you say to the Sheriff and Hotch.

It’s time that Domino is left alone to think about what he’s done. When you get to the main part of the station, you turn to the Sheriff.

“He didn't do it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He was pretty freaked out just thinking about what was done to Annie,” Derek points out.

“People pretend,” he shrugs.

“Anybody delusional enough to eviscerate Annie would not be lucid enough to recount it the way he did. Trust me, he didn’t do it. He robbed her, but that’s it.”

“Alright. I'll have him taken to detox and then I'm gonna arrest him for robbery.”

“In the meantime, I'd have your men canvass the neighborhood again to see if they saw a guy in a hooded sweatshirt,” Derek orders.

“Will do,” he nods.

Once you and the team had a rough idea of what to look for, it was time to give the profile. Every single cop in the station gathered around to hear what your team had to say. According to Gideon, he discovered that the unsub is drinking and eating the blood and organs after placing them in round containers. It’s why there were bloody rings on the coffee table. You have enough to put together a profile.

“We are looking for a twenty to thirty-year-old male,” Hotch begins.

“The unsub engages in anthropophagy. It's a psychotic conviction that he must drink human blood and possibly eat human flesh,” you add.

“For Richard Rrenton Chase, the vampire killer, he drank his victims' blood because he believed that aliens had invaded his body and were slowly drinking his blood,” Spencer spits out facts only he would know.

However, you knew about this too.

“If he didn't get the blood he needed, he'd die. Anthropophagy suggests such an extreme level of psychosis and disorganization that he couldn't have ventured very far from home to commit these crimes. This guy lives or has lived in this town. He knows the territory.”

“You've all seen him,” Derek takes over. “Maybe at the ballpark or riding his bike home from the grocery store. He wasn't always a threat. He could have been your neighbor. He might have been your friend. We think something about his delusion is keeping him here in town.”

“So, we're gonna start at Annie’s house and we're gonna spread out there in quadrants. We're gonna eliminate all of his hiding places,” Hotch determines.

“Paul Thompson's funeral is this afternoon. A lot of his neighbors are gonna be there,” Sheriff Hall mentions.

“Then that’s where we start,” you nod.

The funeral is in full service, and you’re scanning the area to see who might be at all suspicious. Most everyone is passing your tests, but there is one woman wearing a lacy black veil that raises a bunch of red flags. For some reason, she has a tint of that angry red energy you saw back at the house. There is something not right with her.

You go to mention this to Hotch who stands next to you when JJ and Elle walk over with a bunch of case files.

“So, we got some names of unsubs. Farrell Belvedere, twenty-three. He, uh, took a little too much LSD and flipped out in a Winn Dixie and tore up a cheese counter.”

“It’s not him,” you shake your head.

“Okay, show her Mark Ward. He's twenty-one with five counts of petty larceny. Attempted suicide, committed for a year, but now he's living back with his parents.”

“Nope,” you shake your head.

“The last one is Oley Maynor, twenty-five. He was institutionalized for severe manic-depression. He has violent mood swings. When he was eighteen, he got arrested for biting the heads off chickens.”

“He matches what I saw. It could be him, but it ain't the other two. I know it for sure,” you say.

“Gather as much information as you can about him,” Hotch orders.

“You got it,” you nod and leave with Elle.

Derek catches up with you and Elle to gather information on Oley, but you have one woman in mind. By the time you got debriefed, the funeral was over. The woman in the lacy veil was leaving, and you rushed over to her to see what she knows. You really want to get a feel about who she is and what she’s hiding because you know she’s hiding something.

“Ma’am, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” you ask and flash her your badge.

“Of course, what do you need to know?”

“Do you know a man named Oley Maynor?”

“Of course. I just saw him the other day,” she nods without looking at you.

“You saw him where?” Derek asks.

“He was with his brother. In fact, I think it looked like they didn't want to be seen because he took Oley out of the car and went straight into his house.”

“When was this, Mrs. Mays?” Elle asks.

She must have known who this is because you didn’t know her name.

“Three days ago.”

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jingabitch · 4 years

Text

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.4

SUMMARY: when you were ten, taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

PAIRING: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

WORD COUNT: 10.5k

RATING: explicit

A/N: again, I am a liar because this story is still not complete. nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy this!

I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask.

Also, shoutout to my wonderful betas @knjkitten and @seoul9711 for going over this for me! yall are the greatest 💕

series index

Spring means spring showers. Usually that’s something Taehyung kind of enjoys, because it means the weather is getting warmer, and who doesn’t love curling up in bed on rainy mornings (or afternoons, or evenings)?

This spring, though, is different. The boys, after hearing Taehyung shamefully confess that he’d kicked you out, assuming that you’d head right over to one of them, had immediately torn into him for being an irresponsible owner. They were especially upset because he hadn’t told them the entire story, ashamed to let them know that he’d started a sexual relationship with his pet human and not ready to talk about the whole imprinting debacle. To them, he’d simply lost his cool over something petty and done something stupid.

Then they’d organized and strategized, planning to comb through Seoul to try and find you. It was a good thing that all of them were predator hybrids, with enhanced abilities to sniff you out. This rain, though… it was making things difficult, washing away your residual scent. It was bad enough that they were trying to track you two weeks after you’d gone missing, but it had been consistently raining this whole time, and that meant it would be next to impossible to track you down using your scent.

Spring showers meant another problem: no one was picnicking if it was raining. Well, it wasn’t like there were many anyway since it was still cold out – the boys assured you that during summer, they came in hordes – but between the tents and rented heaters, there were still people who came out sometimes, just to spend a little time outdoors once in a while. Hybrids were made sturdy, after all, and weren’t as susceptible to the cold as humans.

It was another week before Taehyung got to Hangang Park. A week of combing through every street, back alley and underground pass in the part of Seoul that he’d been assigned. At the very edge of Seoul, Hangang Park was one of the last places that they hadn’t looked and hope that they would find you was running low. You could be anywhere by now, perhaps having begged a ride or train ticket to another city even.

In the week that they’d been out looking for you, you’d been spending a lot of time inside with the boys. Since it was cold, all of you tended to huddle together in a puppy pile that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the big snuggle fests you’d enjoyed in the past with Taehyung and his bandmates. All the free time that all of you had meant that you spent a lot of time engaging in the only fun thing homeless poor people could afford, and you’d more than once thought sardonically that since you weren’t getting much food, it was a good thing you were getting so much protein.

After all that time spent apart, your reunion with Taehyung was almost anticlimactic. You’d squirmed free of Youngbae and Jiyong, who were currently napping, to go use the public restroom. When you were done, you were drying your hands on your shirt while walking out of the little hut that housed the toilets when you saw him. Or at least, someone who looked suspiciously like him from the back. He was wearing one of Taehyung’s favourite shirts, too, a long-sleeved silk button-down that you’d taken to and from the dry cleaners many times before.

For a second, it felt like time had stopped as you stared at the wide expanse of the man’s back. It took you back to a time that really wasn’t that long ago, but seemed like a different lifetime. So much had changed about you, and your life, and the way you lived.

Then the man started turning around and you realized that it was, indeed, Taehyung. Needless to say, you couldn’t leave quickly enough. You didn’t know why he was here, but you definitely didn’t want him seeing how low you’d sunk now. Swearing inwardly, you darted off, back to the tent behind a convenience store that was now your home.

When Taehyung first scented you, he almost thought he was hallucinating. It was just so unlikely to him that you would be here, of all places, when he’d all but lost hope of finding you ever again. It wasn’t until he turned around that he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a figure running away, and realized that it was, indeed, you. Immediately, he gave chase, yelling your name so you’d turn around.

Instead, you just ran faster, practically diving back into the tent where the other boys were and zipping it up tight. Daesung stirred, holding a hand out to you. “What’s up?” he slurred. You took his hand and cuddled close to his side, not sure how to explain things and just hoping that Taehyung would leave. Why was he here, anyway? He should be busy right now with promoting their comeback album; it wasn’t a good time for the band to be picnicking.

“Y/n!” Taehyung was standing right outside the tent now, and you closed your eyes stubbornly, tucking your face into Daesung’s chest. He’d been absently stroking your hair, but when he heard Taehyung, he propped himself up on his elbow.

“It sounds like someone’s looking for you,” he pointed out rather unnecessarily, raising a brow at you. You rolled your eyes at him in response.

“Y/n, please, let’s go home!” Taehyung continued, and you groaned, turning onto your belly and burying your face in your hands.

Jiyong, who was famously grouchy when he woke up, snarled as he unzipped the tent. “Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?!” he growled.

Taehyung blinked, slightly surprised at the hostility. “Uh, is Y/n-ssi here?” In the unexpected situation, his speech became polite.

Seunghyun came up behind Jiyong, frowning. He’d developed something of a soft spot for you – well, as much as was possible, anyway, when all of you were scrounging for survival. “What’s it to you?” he asked rudely.

“Uh, I’d like to speak to her, if possible?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you objected. You had no interest in anything he could say to you at this point. Was he here to scream at you again? That seemed like overkill, all things considered, but since there was nothing else you could imagine, it remained the most likely scenario in your mind. You didn’t want him seeing you like this, either. If he was going to hate you, you’d rather he at least remember you the way you’d been as a pet, not as a homeless stray.

“Y/n, please.” The tone of his voice gave you pause – it was weary and sad, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to comfort him. You'd spent half your life attuned to his every need and it was difficult to turn that off suddenly.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed past Jiyong and Seunghyun, who were blocking the entrance. "What is it?" you asked. You tried not to make eye contact with Taehyung - he'd always been perceptive, and you didn't want him staring into your soul again, afraid of what he might find there.

“Y/n… please come home,” Taehyung pleaded. With you standing in front of him, he could see properly the toll that the past three weeks had on you. You’d lost a lot of weight and your jawline was sharper than it had ever been, you looked tired and messy, your skin was starting to break out due to lack of proper nutrition and access to skincare products, and you smelled… not that great, which wasn’t a surprise since you’d had about two showers in the last three weeks.

Still, you crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and looked away. “I don’t want to,” you objected. You could still hear his harsh words ringing in your ears, but more than that, the shame you felt at encouraging your unusual relationship when you should have stopped it was weighing heavily on you, and you didn’t want to go back and face that.

“Y/n-ie, please? I know I was mean and awful, and I’m sorry about that. Please come home,” he tried again, but you refused to even look at him.

“Stop it, leave me alone,” you whispered, hugging yourself protectively.

Finally, his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t handle being the cause of your distress anymore, even if he did think that you would be better off back at home with him. “Okay,” he accepted, his voice quiet and dejected. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want, but you’re welcome to come home any time, okay?”

You nodded stiffly, waiting for him to leave.

When he turned away disappointedly and walked off, you turned back to the boys to find all four of them staring at you. “What?” you asked slightly defensively.

“Who was that, baby?” Youngbae asked.

“Uh, it was my previous owner.”

“And he wanted to take you home?”

“Uh, yeah?” More uncertainly this time, not sure where they were going with this.

“And you said no?” Jiyong butted in incredulously.

You shrank in on yourself at the volume and tone of his voice. “I don’t want to go back with him,” you almost whimpered, your hands bunching up the fabric of your shirt anxiously.

“Baby… why not?” Seunghyun asked.

Your mind stalled. You didn’t want to tell them the real reason, afraid that they would look at you differently or even kick you out of their group. “We… had a fight,” you said rather vaguely instead.

“And you’re still mad at him? Did he do something wrong?”

“Yes, he kicked me out,” you said pointedly. Wasn’t that enough?

“Baby… he clearly feels bad about that if he came to ask you to go home,” Daesung pointed out reasonably.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he kicked me out,” you grumbled petulantly. “What if he does it again? Then I’ll end up right back here.”

“And what if you do?” Seunghyun asked. “Even if he kicks you out again in a week, that’s a week that you get to spend with a roof over your head, and access to food and water.”

You blinked at Seunghyun. Out of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t really what you’d thought he would say, but it made sense somehow. Living on the streets was difficult. You hadn’t had a hot meal in three weeks, and even though the hunger pangs kept the nausea at bay, picking at hybrids’ half-eaten food wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

It must seem so shallow and ridiculous to these boys, who’d been living on the streets all their lives, that there was someone offering you a perfectly good home and you didn’t want it. Why? Because of your feelings? Ultimately, did that matter? You began to doubt yourself and your reasoning, wondering if you were being silly.

Still, your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the memories of Taehyung forcibly kicking you out of his house, and you gnawed on your lip uncertainly. Would it really be okay?

“Sweetie, it seems like there’s something more keeping you from wanting to go back.” Youngbae, ever the astute one, guessed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head slowly. It might seem tempting, but you didn’t know how they would react to hearing about your sexual relationship with your hybrid owner. You’d lost enough; you didn’t want to lose your new family too, especially when their protection was all that was keeping you from being out on the streets alone. The memory of the two nights you’d spent wandering around the streets of Seoul, lost and alone, were enough to keep your mouth shut out of caution and fear.

“That’s fair, but is it worth living like this?” he asked, gesturing towards the tent where the five of them had been living practically on top of each other.

“You live like this,” you objected. “We’ve been fine, haven’t we?” you continued, a little more uncertainly now. Were they just too polite to tell you that they were tired of you and wanted you to leave?

All of them exchanged glances, before turning back towards you, serious expressions on their faces. “Y/n… any blind fool can tell that you’re not made for this life,” Seunghyun began. “The rest of us were born on the streets and we know how to handle ourselves.”

“I know how to handle myself,” you protested, your hackles rising. Hadn’t you been doing your part to contribute to the group? Thinking about it too hard made you feel a little unsettled, like you were about to be booted out of another family, so you tilted your chin upwards in defiance.

Daesung stepped in, ever the peacemaker. “You’ve been doing really well, sweetie, but all of us can see how difficult this is for you,” he pointed out.

“What- what do you mean?”

“Well… your soft hands that have clearly never done heavy lifting, your fussiness about food, your general demeanor…” Jiyong started listing things that all of them had noticed over the past couple of weeks, only stopping when Seunghyun nudged him to be quiet.

“The point is… this life is clearly not suitable for you,” Seunghyun explained. “And even if things are bad between you and your owner right now, he’s willing to make an effort, and it seems like going back with him is the best thing for you.”

You bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I think if you have to eat any more cold ramen noodles you’ll kill yourself,” Jiyong said dryly, and your cheeks heated, remembering the day that all you had to eat was cold, congealed half-eaten instant noodles. You thought you’d covered up your distaste, but apparently not. In your defense, it had been a soup ramen and the noodles had absorbed all the soup and gotten bloated and soggy.

“Okay,” you finally accepted. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Unexpectedly, it was Jiyong that came to hug you goodbye. “If anything goes wrong, you’ll always be welcome here,” he whispered, and you nodded, hugging him back. Even though you were pretty sure it was just because they enjoyed the convenience of having pussy on tap, you were still touched, your eyes starting to sting with tears that you refused to shed. As accepting as they’d been of you, you’d tried your best to avoid appearing weak and needy, and that wasn’t about to change.

It didn’t take long for you to find Taehyung – he was standing right near the entrance of the convenience store, smoking a shame cigarette. It was a habit he’d picked up in the military and quit when he left, but when he was stressed or upset, he still craved it. Right now, he was all of that and more.

You watched from around the side of the small building as he blew smoke out and flicked the end of the cigarette with his thumb, causing the ash to fall into the ashtray on top of the bin. The cigarette smoke was all he could smell, so he didn’t know you were there.

“Taehyung-oppa?” you called hesitantly, taking a few steps forward.

The way he whipped around to look at you was almost comical. “Y/n…?” he breathed, like he could hardly believe it. Hastily, his free hand came up to wipe his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

You came a little closer, still a little skittish. “You shouldn’t be smoking,” you said instead of answering.

He smiled a little sadly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Well… probably not,” he agreed.

“It’s bad for your health,” you continued walking towards him as you chided him gently.

“It is,” he said, although his voice cracked on the second word. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, trying to stifle the sobs. If this was the last time he ever saw you, he didn’t want you to remember him as a sobbing mess. Dragging a deep, painful breath in through his lungs, he swallowed hard to compose himself.

“Taehyung-oppa…” When he next opened his eyes, you were standing right in front of him, in all your ethereal glory. Right now, it didn’t matter that you looked (and smelled) like you’d seen better days. He forced himself to drink in every feature, every bit of your essence and scent. If this was all he had for the rest of his life, it would be enough. When he’d adopted you, he made a promise that he would always take care of you. He’d failed once already, but if all he could do for you for the rest of his life was look out for you from afar, that would be enough.

The powers that be must be smiling down on him, though, because instead of disappearing, you plucked the cigarette from his hand and ground it out against the bin. “Let’s go home,” you said simply.

He didn’t know why or how you’d changed your mind, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nodding mutely, he held out his hand, and miraculously, you placed yours in it, letting him lead you back to his car.

-----------------------------------------------

In the enclosed space of the car, Taehyung could pick apart all the unfamiliar notes of your scent, and it was driving him insane. The sour note of hunger and misery made the wolf in him want to whine and nose at your throat, bathe you and feed you and cuddle you until it all went away. The scent of unfamiliar men blanketing you inspired a very different reaction, though. It made him want to snarl, to tear the men who’d dared touch his mate apart, and make sure their scent was covered by his. He didn’t even want to think about how deep the scent of other men had sunk into you after three weeks. It had been his fault, anyway.

The part of him that was human tamped down ruthlessly on his baser, animalistic instincts, knowing that he couldn’t give in to them when they’d been engineered to manipulate him. Now, these instincts that had been bred into him were preventing him from being a good, responsible owner and that was unacceptable. Being here with you was throwing the conflict between his wolf and human sides into sharp relief, and he was silent as he mulled over it.

You didn’t have anything to say to him either, and your car ride home was quiet. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the side of the car, and whenever there was a red light, Taehyung would gaze upon your face silently until he had to drive again.

When you finally got home, you followed Taehyung silently up to the apartment, your head bowed. His heart clenched at how broken and sad you looked, and the thought that he was the cause of it made him want to clutch you to his chest and cry. He did none of that, however, merely opening the door and letting you step into the house before him. You hovered uncertainly in the entryway, not even toeing off your shoes, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt in a way he recognized as an anxious habit of yours.

He stepped into the apartment and held his hand out to you. “Come on,” he coaxed, much like the first time he’d brought you home. The parallel didn’t seem like it was lost on you, because the ghost of a smile played across your lips, but this time when you put your hand in his, it was stiff and tense. He didn’t say anything, though, closing his larger hand around yours and drawing you into the apartment. You were still hesitant, though, looking around nervously, and in that moment, if he could have given up his heart to make you feel better, he would have done it without any thought.

“Do you want to go take a shower while I get dinner ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded after a second, slipping off into your room to grab your clothes, then into the shower. When he heard the shower come on, he texted the boys to let them know he’d found you and they could call off the search. He didn’t add other details, not ready to share or even knowing what he should say to them, really.

With that done, he put his phone down on the counter, ignoring the way it vibrated over and over again, the boys undoubtedly bombarding him with questions. He figured you’d probably want a hot meal, and opened the fridge to see if he could cook anything. Seokjin would definitely be cooking up a storm for you and would load his car up with containers full of food tomorrow, but for tonight, he had to make do. There were a few threadbare ingredients that were left over from the last time you’d gone grocery shopping and he pulled them out hesitantly. It had honestly been too long since he’d cooked – when you were around, you usually took care of it and he’d been living off delivery food while you were gone.

Out of practice, he nevertheless gave it the good old college try, chopping up the onion and meat and attempting to make doenjang jjigae. He knew it was comforting for you, and it was for him too, especially after you’d made it for him during his heat. Unfortunately, when he tried to cook the stew, it turned into a mess somehow, with the onions burning and sticking to the pot, the doenjang starting to smoke, and the meat turning an unappetizing colour. Panicked, he started cursing while trying to scrape the food off the bottom of the pot.

The bathroom door swung open when you heard him, and you came out silently, nudging him aside to see what was happening. Without a word, you turned the stove off and started scraping burnt bits of food off the pan and into the bin. “Sorry,” Taehyung said, hovering awkwardly behind you. He’d never felt lower in his life. Could he do nothing right?

“It’s all right,” you murmured. “I’m not that hungry anyway. I might just turn in.”

His wolf whined in misery at the thought of you actually going to bed hungry, and he might have let a little noise slip, because your gaze snapped up towards him, before looking away. Your shirt was fisted in your hands again, and he forced himself to calm down. The fact that you were now afraid of him filled him with so much despair and hurt. He would genuinely throw himself off a bridge if it would make you smile again, just for a second.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll call delivery,” he said. He reached out to grab your hand, but thought better of it and snatched it back before making contact.

“Okay,” you agreed, your head still down. “Thank you, Taehyung-oppa.”

“Do you want to go sit down while I call them?” he asked, nodding towards the living room. You nodded and made your way to the couch where you perched on the very edge of the cushion, holding yourself stiffly with your hands in your lap.

Looking over sadly at you, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number for the restaurant that he knew was your favourite, ordering your food and his. He made sure to get additional side dishes, his wolf wanting nothing more than to provide for his mate.

When the food arrived, he busied himself taking it all out of the big basket and setting up the table as you drifted closer hesitantly. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at you, he watched carefully out of the corner of his eye as your lips turned up in a slight smile seeing your favourite black bean noodles, with sweet and sour pork on the side. It wasn’t much – before, you would have clapped your hands with glee and sit down eagerly – but to him, it felt like a victory anyway. Like maybe he could do this, take care of you and win back your affection.

You picked up your chopsticks and dug in, eating with a haste that he’d never seen before. You’d always been a bit of a slow eater, claiming you wanted to savour the food, but now you were wolfing it down like you didn’t know when you’d get to eat again, and it broke his heart all over again that you’d experienced hunger. You were his – his responsibility, his mate – and he’d failed you so miserably. The thought made his stomach flip unpleasantly and he found himself slowing down, losing his appetite at the thought of how much you’d undoubtedly suffered.

When you were done with your noodles – and most of the pork and side dishes – you started casting furtive glances over at his bowl of stew, and he pushed his bowl towards you without you having to ask. It was a striking reversal of the way you’d taken care of him during his pre-heat, and he was just now realizing how much responsibility you’d taken around the house since you came to live with him after his military service ended.

You hadn’t felt so full in weeks, and you sat back with a satisfied sigh when you’d drained Taehyung’s bowl as well. Your stomach hurt from how much you’d eaten, but it was a nice feeling, after the near-constant hunger pangs for the past three weeks. Moving sluggishly, you went to pack the empty bowls back into the bucket, but Taehyung stopped you. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Go get some rest, you look beat.”

Since you were exhausted, you didn’t argue with him, just getting up and heading to your bedroom. Taehyung watched, slightly wounded that you didn’t want to spend the night with him like you used to, but also not wanting to say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. “Good night,” he called, regretting it instantly when you leapt into the air at the sound of his voice.

“Good night,” you responded softly, and it was only his enhanced wolf hearing that allowed him to pick it up. Sighing, he finished cleaning up and put the basket back outside the door.

Being back in your bedroom felt almost surreal, after living on that streets and then in that tent. Everything was the same as it was before, when you were so different, it was like you didn’t fit in there anymore. The cute room with the cozy patterned bedspread, the overstuffed, oversized chair and reading nook… it was for another person, someone who didn’t exist anymore.

Still, you tried your best to block the thoughts out of your head as you pulled back the duvet to slide under it, fidgeting to try and get comfortable. Closing your eyes tight, you snuggled into the pillows, falling into the fitful, restless sleep that you’d gotten used to.

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Taehyung lay in the dark in his room, his eyes wide open. Having you in the next room over instead of in his bed next to him felt wrong, somehow, but even though he wanted nothing more than to slide into bed with you, or better yet, bring you to his room, his uncertainty and guilt kept him where he was.

He must have spent hours just lying there, listening to you toss and turn and whimper in your sleep, each sound twisting the knife. You’d always been such a deep, easy sleeper, knocking right out every night and sleeping peacefully till morning. It was his fault you’d changed, and he tortured himself all night imagining all the horrors you’d been through during the past few weeks.

When sunlight started shining through his curtains, he decided he’d had enough of lying there, and got out of bed. Still in his pajamas, he left his room and walked the small distance to yours to wake you up. Standing over your bed, he watched for a moment as you continued fussing in your sleep, a small frown etched into your features.

It had been a while since he’d done this, but years of waking you up meant that the muscle memory came back to him easy as he leaned over you and patted your side. “Hey… wake up,” he called softly.

You stirred and, clearly only half-awake, slurred, “Okay… you want a handjob?”

“I- what? Y/n…”

Your hand fought its way out of the covers and you held it out, palm up. “Come on…” you yawned.

“Y/n-ie… stop it.” Taehyung’s voice trembled as he saw the way you were holding your hand out, your fingers loosely curled. He put his hand in yours and placed it back onto the bed.

A little more awake now, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and squinted up at him. “Taehyung-oppa? Good morning,” you murmured in your soft, slightly scratchy morning voice. “Do you need breakfast?”

He hesitated. You looked so small and innocent in your bed now that he almost wondered if he’d hallucinated your earlier interaction. You continued looking at him, looking more alert, and he knew you were waiting for an answer.

“No,” he finally said. “Do you want to come to the studio with me today? We can grab some food on the way, and I’m sure the others are excited to see you too.”

You blinked and yawned again, before pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Okay,” you agreed. “Let me just get ready.” Sluggishly, you got out of bed, twisting your back to stretch while Taehyung made himself scarce, going to get dressed. When he was done, you ducked into the bathroom to do your thing, carrying your clothes in with you.

When you emerged, you looked fresh and adorable, in a simple white blouse and blue jeans, and anyone who wasn’t looking too closely or didn’t know you would have thought you were merely another pampered pet human. Taehyung, though, could see the way the clothes hung off you a little too loosely, the sharper edge of your jawline and cheekbones from weight loss, and most of all, could smell the scent of other men on you that even your shower last night hadn’t been able to get off.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast today?” he asked as you put your shoes on. He opened the front door and extended his other arm towards you, intending at first to usher you out with his hand on your lower back like he usually did, but he saw the way you stood a little more stiffly at the anticipation of his hands on you and dropped it awkwardly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been quite so surprised and hurt at your hesitance. If you wanted nothing more to do with him, it was still more than he deserved.

He took you to a little restaurant for porridge that was near the BigHit building, watching carefully as you downed the entire bowl in record-breaking time. Usually you were too busy chatting with him and telling him about your day, or random things you’d seen, or something you’d read in a book, but now you were silent, your head down as you shoveled food into your mouth. In an attempt to break the silence, Taehyung asked, “Did you sleep well?” even though he knew the answer to the question.

It didn’t work, anyway. You just looked up at him, wide-eyed, for a second, before nodding and returning to your food. Sighing in defeat, he lapsed into silence too. If this was the new normal, he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. At least you were eating well – it soothed his wolf slightly, to know that his mate was eating well.

When you were finished with your meal – even licking the spoon clean dramatically – he took you to the studio, where the boys, as anticipated, glomped you the moment you set foot in the door. Jimin was basically in tears as he hugged you and wouldn’t let go, even when the others came forth for their turn. Namjoon, however, hovered back, hesitant to greet you. In the heat of the moment, with Taehyung’s turmoil and misery in his face, it had been easy to justify his own role in the entire debacle, but now that he was looking straight at you, and seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on your body, the guilt sat uncomfortably in his chest.

Soon enough, you were back in your usual spot – on the couch, squished between Yoongi on one side and Jimin on the other, listening absently as they discussed their album and comeback with the managers and executives. Feeling warm and full from the porridge, your eyelids started to droop, and Yoongi, always alert and aware, gently took the book from your loose grasp and closed it, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

Taehyung, watching from the adjacent couch, frowned, barely paying attention to what Bang PD was saying. He knew you hadn’t slept well last night, and the more rational side of him was relieved that you were at least getting some rest, even if you didn’t seem that comfortable. If he had his way, you would be lying down on a couch somewhere in a dark room where you could get some proper sleep. His wolf wanted to tear Yoongi to shreds, snarling in jealousy at the older man. It should be his shoulder you were currently drooling all over, your face adorably smushed into the fabric of his shirt.

Reminding himself harshly that you weren’t comfortable around him anymore, and really, whose fault was that, he forced himself to look away, although his jaw remained clenched, an outward sign of his irritation. He’d never been good at keeping his emotions to himself, but he figured he’d better damn well get good at it now, if he was going to keep all his problematic emotions to himself and avoid making you feel even more unsafe around him.

-------------------------------------------------

For almost a month, you and Taehyung danced around each other, trying to stay out of each other’s way. You didn’t want to do anything that might set him off again or remind him of why he’d kicked you out in the first place, and Taehyung was practically bending over backwards to give you the space he thought you needed to heal. As a result, the apartment was very quiet for most of the day, an oppressive silence that hung like a shroud over you.

Since you weren’t talking much to Taehyung, you were always happy to go with him to the studio, where the other boys were more than willing to entertain you. They’d realized quickly that you were a lot jumpier than before, which was understandable, so they tried not to do anything that would give you a fright. For the most part, you were all right with physical contact (other than with Taehyung, which upset him tremendously) but once in a while an innocent brush against you could remind you of the way Big Bang would touch you, and you’d leap into the air to get away from it.

It was Yoongi, who let you sit on the couch in his studio most days, who finally broached the topic after he tried to usher you into the studio with his hand on your back and you almost burst into tears. He sat you down on the couch and squatted in front of you, holding your hands and pleading for you to please tell him what was wrong for about half an hour before you caved and admitted that you might have some trauma from living on the streets. It was another twenty minutes of cajoling before you told him, in the smallest voice possible, that you’d had to use your body to survive.

“You… what?” Yoongi was so shocked by your confession that he lost his balance and fell, sitting ungracefully at your feet. Thinking he was reacting this way out of disgust, you covered your face with your hands and drew your shoulders in.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes. This was exactly what you hadn’t wanted; you’d thought you’d been doing well with hiding everything and dealing with it alone. Now that Yoongi knew, the rest of the boys would know that you were filthy, disgusting… you couldn’t stop the sob from tearing out of your chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, putting his shock and anger aside in the face of your clear distress. He wanted to flip a table, maybe set fire to something, but you were more important right now. His hands fluttered helplessly by your knees, wanting to comfort you but not sure how to. Your adverse reaction to the boys’ touch made so much sense now, and he didn’t want to accidentally trigger you again and upset you further.

In the end, he took your hand and placed it on top of his head, letting you stroke his soft, fluffy leopard ears. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe you, and you smiled a little past the tears as you scratched the base of them, just like he let you do when you were a child. He didn’t want to force you to speak, but slowly coaxed everything out of you. Once you started talking about your experiences, it was like the words fell out of you, so relieved to finally be able to tell someone after keeping it to yourself for weeks as you tried to pretend like you were the same innocent human you’d been before being cast out.

Eventually, Yoongi managed to get you to fall asleep for a much-needed nap on his couch after you’d cried yourself out. His heart broke as he looked at you lying on the couch on your side, so small and delicate. You looked almost breakable, and the thought of you having to use that precious body to survive because of Taehyung made his fists clench by his side in rage. Turning down the lights so you would be able to rest properly, he left his studio, making sure to close the door quietly to avoid waking you up even though he wanted to slam it in his rage.

Taehyung was sitting in a meeting room with Jungkook and Jimin, and when Yoongi burst through the entrance, all of them looked up. “Suga-hyung, what’s up?” Jimin greeted.

Ignoring him, Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, yanked him by the shirtfront out of his seat and decked him across the face. Shocked and unprepared for the hit, Taehyung sprawled on the floor, only to prop himself up by the elbow a second later, cradling his jaw with his hand and looking up at Yoongi with wide, hurt eyes.

“Suga-hyung, stop!” Jimin cried as Jungkook all but leapt across the table in the room to restrain the older man. The two bystanders exchanged panicked glances, not sure why Yoongi was suddenly attacking Taehyung. As irritable and snarky as the rapper was, it was almost impossible to get him truly angry, and he was clearly fuming right now.

Furious at the sudden attack, Taehyung surged up off the floor. “What the fuck was that for?!” he roared, pulling back to return Yoongi’s punch with one of his own. Jimin hurried over to pull Taehyung back before the situation descended into a brawl.

“You’re garbage,” Yoongi sneered. “Ask Y/n what it was for.” With that, he pulled himself out of Jungkook’s grasp, glared at Taehyung once more, and left the room, unable to stand being in the same room as him anymore.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Jimin fretted over his best friend, taking his chin in his hand and turning his face from one side to the other to see what the damage was. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he instructed, tugging on Taehyung’s hand so the wolf hybrid had no choice but to trail after Jimin, his ears drooping.

“What do you think that was about?” Jimin asked in the bathroom as he wetted a wad of paper towels in the sink.

Taehyung, leaning against the wall beside the sinks, shrugged, meeting Jimin’s eyes in the mirror. “Hell if I know,” he grumbled, still bitter. “I can’t believe hyung would do something like that,” he sulked.

Starting to dab at the busted lip to clean it up, Jimin ignored Taehyung’s hiss of pain and subsequent whines. “You know hyung isn’t the type to do something like that out of the blue… we can go talk to him later, okay? Find out what’s wrong.”

Taehyung started to protest, but Jimin’s glare and the way he pressed a little harder on the split lip he was tending to made him subside, pouting.

Since Taehyung could be a big baby and Jimin had an obsessive need to take care of everyone around him, it took a while before Taehyung was deemed patched up enough to go talk to Yoongi. As he made his way down the hallway to Yoongi’s studio, he fumed silently about his hyung’s weird behavior.

By the time he got to the door of Yoongi’s studio, he’d worked himself back up into a rage, and pounded on the door loudly to announce his presence. “Hyung, open up!” he yelled.

The racket he was making woke you up abruptly, and you jolted awake, gasping as you shot up into a sitting position. A quick glance over at Yoongi told you that he hadn’t heard Taehyung at all, since he was still working, with his giant expensive noise-cancelling headphones on. Since he was occupied, you went to open the door yourself to let Taehyung in.

Taehyung’s arm was still up, poised to knock, when you opened the door. He stared at you with wide eyes, not having expected you and feeling slightly abashed now that you’d seen his childish tantrum. “Ah, Y/n-ie… I didn’t know you were here,” he greeted, dropping his arm to his side.

You, on the other hand, had a far more dramatic reaction. Seeing his split lip, you gasped in horror, and in your panic, the artificial distance you’d been imposing for the past month slipped away. “Tae-oppa!” you cried, your hands flying to his face. “What happened to you?” With the pads of your fingers, you stroked gently over the reddened skin around the cut, wincing.

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him over to the couch and sat him down, continuing to fret over him. Taehyung, for his part, sat quietly and let you do what you wanted, just happy to have you near him again. All his anger evaporated as he smiled at you like a fool, ignoring the way it made his lip sting.

Yoongi, who’d turned around in his chair and slipped his headphones down around his neck, frowned at the sight that greeted him. You were kneeling on the couch next to Taehyung, leaning over him while he held your wrist in his hand, stroking gently along the soft skin on your inner wrist.

At the sound of Yoongi clearing his throat, you jumped, tearing your wrist out of Taehyung’s grasp, to look over at the rapper. The interruption was enough to startle you out of your frantic concern for him, and you sat down on the couch, your hands in your lap as you tried to make yourself smaller. “S-sorry,” you said to Taehyung, though it was directed at your hands. What would he think of you now? Getting all up in his personal space, even after he’d made it so clear that he didn’t want to be involved with you like that. You really needed to get a grip if you were going to remain his pet, you thought. No way in hell were you going back to being homeless.

“It’s all right,” Taehyung murmured, responding to you habitually. Now that you weren’t in his personal space anymore, though, his anger started coming back, and he trained his gaze on Yoongi, his jaw flexing with his irritation. Yoongi met his gaze with equal measure, neither of them backing down.

You were so consumed by your own thoughts that you didn’t realise the tension between them, asking Taehyung obliviously, “So what happened to your face, anyway?”

There was a beat of silence, then Yoongi replied smoothly, “He must have walked into a door.” As he said it, he pinned Taehyung with a warning gaze, as if daring him to disagree with his lie.

An awkward moment later, Taehyung agreed. “Yes… I was distracted,” he offered as an excuse.

Watching the way Yoongi looked at you, with a small frown knitting his brow, Taehyung remembered what Yoongi had said earlier, about asking you what the punch was for. He broke eye contact with Yoongi to look over at you instead, although you still refused to look up at him, preferring to focus instead on your lap, where your hands were folded politely.

“Anyway, Y/n-ie… I’m not needed for the rest of the day. Do you want to go home early?” Taehyung figured that whatever it was he was supposed to ask you about, it was probably best to do it in private. He didn’t have his own studio, so his apartment was the best bet.

“Sure,” you agreed immediately. You’d been doing that a lot lately, just going with whatever he wanted or suggested, unless you were protesting that he was spending too much time, money or effort on you. It was so completely different from the carefree girl who loved to go crazy with his credit cards and soaked up his affection that he’d known, and he hated himself again for causing you to withdraw like that. It had taken him so long to earn your trust back when you’d been a child and he adopted you, and now all of that was gone down the drain.

He stood up and you followed, trailing after him out of Yoongi’s studio with a smile and a wave that upset him all over again. He hadn’t had that cute, carefree smile directed at him for so long now, and again, he fucking knew it was his own fault, but that didn’t make it any easier. For now, he had to be satisfied with seeing that smile only when it was directed at other people. At least, he thought bitterly, he’d succeeded in providing a good support network for you.

When you got home, after yet another awkward car ride filled with stilted small talk, Taehyung sat you down on the couch, wanting to talk to you but unsure of how to bring it up. You looked at him inquiringly as he stuttered through several aborted attempts to start the conversation, stopping each time with a frown and a hum.

Finally, he managed to ask, in a tone he hoped was neutral, “Did you and Suga-hyung talk about anything interesting today?”

You visibly stiffened, and he wondered if it was his words or his failure to feign nonchalance. “Why do you ask?” you responded cautiously, and he could see your walls going up.

“Just something Suga-hyung said,” Taehyung waved his hand in the air.

You cursed Yoongi inwardly for selling you out, and so quickly, at that. “Uh, we just talked about some stuff that happened last month,” you said vaguely. Neither of you were necessarily comfortable talking about the time you’d spent on the streets, and you tried to tiptoe around it out of consideration for Taehyung, but he understood what you were trying to say anyway.

“Uh-huh, like what?” he prompted, undeterred.

Your shoulders hunched defensively around your ears. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, and started to get up to beat a hasty retreat to your room.

Taehyung reached out in a panic and grabbed your hand. “No, please, tell me what you told him,” he pleaded, looking up at you with that sad expression that you’d never been able to resist.

You sighed. “Why do you even want to know?” you asked, slumping back onto the couch in resignation.

Taehyung frowned. “Of course I want to know,” he countered immediately. “Why don’t you want to tell me?” he asked in concern now.

You shrugged. “I don’t like talking about it, and it’ll just upset you,” you explained in a small voice.

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s voice was filled with sadness. “Please, tell me about it.” He scooted slightly closer to you and took your hands in his.

“Taehyung-oppa…”

“I understand if you’re not ready to tell me,” he admitted. It stung to acknowledge the possibility that you were more comfortable talking to Yoongi about this than to Taehyung, when he’d always been your caretaker, the one you’d gone to for everything. “But if you’re willing to tell me, I really do want to know, so we can figure out the best way to help you.”

You swallowed. “All right,” you agreed hesitantly, then lapsed into silence as you thought about how you should explain what had happened. You didn’t want Taehyung to judge you, but then again, Yoongi hadn’t either, so maybe your fears about that had been overblown.

After a little more hemming and hawing as you tried to muster up the courage to talk about it, you finally said, “Do you remember the guys that I was living with?”

Taehyung nodded, slightly confused, but didn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to continue speaking when you were ready.

“Well, uh… they agreed to take me in and all, but it wasn’t for free,” you said, trying to skirt around the topic, hoping he would get it without you having to spell it out in so many words.

Of course, Taehyung just gave you a blank stare, as if waiting for you to finish your thought. You sighed. “They proposed, like, a trade,” you continued, willing him with your mind to just understand what you were trying to say already, damn it.

When his expression didn’t change, you gave up on hoping he would understand your hints. “I only had myself and didn’t have much to offer, so they, uh… theymademeusemybody,” you rushed out the last part of your sentence so softly it was almost like a whisper, but with Taehyung’s sharper hearing, courtesy of his hybrid senses, he picked it up perfectly.

Only, with what he’d heard, he wished he hadn’t. He stared at you imploringly, his ears folded down against his head, his eyes starting to fill with tears. “Wh-what?” His voice wobbled, unable to believe what he’d heard. You avoided his gaze by turning your face away, not wanting to see the expression on his face. You didn’t need his pity.

“Y/n…” Taehyung tightened his grasp on your hands. “I’m so sorry.” The emotion behind the simple words caught you off guard, and you turned back to look at him. He was staring straight at you, his eyes huge and filled with distress (and tears). A sob that he couldn’t quite hold back tore out of his chest and you watched, with some disbelief, as he completely broke down in front of you.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you murmured, trying to extricate one hand from his grasp. Panicked, he held on even tighter, unwilling to let you go and afraid that you would leave if he did. He was so upset it physically hurt all over. As an owner, he was distraught that his thoughtless actions had caused you to suffer like that. His baser instincts, however, prodded him to hunt down the humans who’d forced you into such a position. How dare they make such profane, disgusting, exploitative demands of you, his imprint, his mate?

And yet, wasn’t it all his fault? He was the one who’d kicked you out, so you had no other choice but to accept it. Everything that had happened to you while you were living on the streets had happened because of him, because he was a thoughtless, stupid, irresponsible, owner. It would serve him right if you left, although he couldn’t bear for you to. Clearly, he’d shown that he was an unfit owner.

He was so lost in his self-hatred that he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing your hands which were folded in his bigger ones until you made a quiet noise of discomfort, flexing your hands in his grasp. Horrified, he let go of them as if scalded, appalled that he was hurting you yet again.

Instead of immediately taking off, however, you reached up to cradle the side of his face, wiping his tears away with your thumb. As much as you’d resented him, you couldn’t see his sadness without wanting to comfort him. It was somewhat strange – you’d always seen him as the rock, the constant in your life. Always there for you, always in your corner. That was gone now. You knew firsthand how he could be, how much you suffered because of him. Yet there were still those memories that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop holding close to your heart. Of being tucked into bed by him, spoilt rotten and cuddled during what had to be the most pampered adolescence possible. Part of you was vindictively pleased that he was so upset, since it was what he deserved, but there was another part that didn’t like seeing him suffer.

When he felt your hand on his face, Taehyung felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment. It would have made more sense to him if you’d slapped or punched him, but this tender touch, after all you’d been through because of him… he didn’t deserve you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, as if saying the words could dispel the heavy guilt he felt.

Because you weren’t a saint after all, you couldn’t resist twisting the knife. You knew you should appreciate how apologetic he was now that he knew what had happened, but there was also a spark of irritation within you. Why did he get to cry and make a fuss, when you couldn’t? You were comforting him when all the things he was upset about had happened to you, because of him.

“If you were sorry,” you said quietly, “you wouldn’t have kicked me out to begin with.” There was no malice in your tone, which was quiet and neutral, but it was abundant in your words. This was all his doing, and he shouldn’t get to wail dramatically about it like he was the victim.

Taehyung swallowed. “You’re right,” he acknowledged immediately. “This is all my fault, I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it better for you,” he implored, his wide, tear-filled eyes looking at you earnestly.

“Tell me why you did it.” You never raised your voice, staying unmoved in the face of his clear anguish.

“Okay,” he agreed instantly, almost before the last word left your mouth. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just please… don’t leave.”

You folded your hands neatly in your lap and prepared to listen. To be honest, you’d thought you would be able to predict whatever he was going to say. He was furious about you coercing him into a sexual relationship when he wasn’t in his right frame of mind, he would confess, and after thinking about it, he’d gotten so angry that he acted impulsively. You could almost hear the words inside your head already – they were the same reasons you’d been repeating to yourself, over and over again.

“I was mad,” Taehyung admitted, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “And I acted rashly.” He hadn’t wanted to tell you about the imprint, hoping that he could deal with it by himself so he wouldn’t give you yet another thing to worry and stress over, but you’d asked, and he couldn’t reject your request. Not when he knew how much you’d suffered because of him. You nodded, like you’d expected him to say that.

What he said next, however, took you completely by surprise.

“Namjoon-hyung told me…” he stopped to swallow and gather himself, then started again. “I know you think that during my last heat –” you both flushed, thinking about what had happened then – “that was new, but it wasn’t.”

Your gaze sharpened and focused on him, listening more carefully to what he had to say now. “I’d been struggling since my discharge from the military,” he continued. Damn, this was hard to say. “Namjoon-hyung helped me look into it, and he found…”

He paused to muster some courage, running his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “He found what?” you prompted, leaning forward curiously. You hadn’t voluntarily come this close to him for a month, he noted. His wolf preened.

“Uh, he found evidence of… hybrid technology that he believes is the cause. He called it,” he coughed to delay it a little longer, “an imprint. It’s a genetic quirk that was created in predator hybrids to ensure that they could bond with their human owners.”

You blinked. “I’m not your owner,” you said dumbly. It was so much to take in, that bit was the only thing your mind could focus on and grasp.

“I know,” he nodded, “but because we spent so much time together in our adolescence the bond had a chance to form, and after spending two years apart, it kicked in because you’d reached…” He grimaced, not really wanting to say it, and waved his hand at you vaguely instead.

You understood well enough what he was trying to say and blanched. “Gross…” you muttered under your breath, but Taehyung heard it and his shoulders slumped further. Of course you were horrified and disgusted at him – you should be. For the first time, he wondered if you would have been better off on the streets – at least then you wouldn’t have to deal with him and this genetic abnormality. He’d forced you into every difficult situation you’d faced since coming back to him after his military service, and it was only natural that you were appalled by his revelation.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He was saying that a lot, but no matter how many times he uttered the words, they were never enough to convey the depth of his remorse and sorrow over what he’d done to you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” his head fell into your lap as he cried.

You started stroking his head and ears, the habit you’d developed from years of being around him making you move your hand automatically to soothe him as you tried to sort out your thoughts. Hybrid technology… a genetic quirk… that meant humans had been responsible for what Taehyung was going through. You were more educated than most humans, which meant you understood very well the history between humans and hybrids. Humans had created hybrids and enslaved them, treating them as chattel – pets, workhorses, you name it.

And now, you were continuing to be the source of a hybrid’s pain and suffering. Had humans not done enough? Their destructive legacy continued to live on in the bodies of the hybrids they’d created, and while Taehyung had been struggling with it by himself, you’d been living in blissful ignorance, resenting him for what he’d done.

Taehyung cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore, then he just lay with his head in your lap, the occasional hiccup making him jerk slightly. After a while, you turned your head to look out the window – the sun was setting, you noted.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you called softly, shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up. “You should get to bed.”

He stirred slightly, then tried to go back to sleep, but you pushed him back into a sitting position. “Come on, Tae-oppa,” you said, standing up and tugging on his hand. He followed you as you led him to his room, but wouldn’t let go of your hand once you’d gotten him settled in bed.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he croaked.

You eyed him dubiously for a second, not sure if it was a good idea, especially in light of what you’d just learned. But with his sad expression, the dejected slump of his shoulders and the way his ears flopped over his head, you couldn’t say no to anything he asked. Especially not with the newfound guilt you were carrying around.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Just let me wash up and I’ll come back.”

When you tiptoed back into Taehyung’s room, scrubbed down and in your pajamas, you thought he was asleep from the way he was curled up under the sheets. You quietly pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and got in slowly, trying not to jostle him awake, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, since the moment you were settled into the mattress he squirmed closer to you, wrapping his arms and legs around you and pressing his face into your neck.

With a small sigh, you settled into his hold.

---------------------------------------------

“Y/n… I don’t understand.” Namjoon’s brow was furrowed as he looked up at you, standing in his studio.

“Namjoon-oppa… I know you know about the imprint, and you told Taehyung-oppa about it,” you told him.

“Right… but I don’t know why you’re asking me this.”

“It’s not complicated – I just want to know if there’s a way to break the imprint.”

Namjoon hesitated. It was something he’d been looking into nonstop as well, hoping to find something that would set both you and Taehyung free. It didn’t seem to be possible, though – the genetic bond was not designed to be broken, especially since hybrids had been considered so disposable. If anything went wrong, euthanasia of hybrids had been just as commonly accepted as euthanasia of regular pets.

“There isn’t,” he admitted. “The only cases where a hybrid was able to move on from the imprint…” he gulped, not sure whether he should tell you.

“What is it?” you asked impatiently. “Namjoon-oppa, please. I’m trying to help Taehyung-oppa, just like you are,” you pleaded. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Stop asking!” Backed into a corner now, he snarled at you, his ears pressed back against his head. “There’s nothing you can do, okay? Just drop it.”

“Namjoon-oppa, please. I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it. I’ll do anything it takes to help Taehyung-oppa break his imprint.”

That got his attention. “Anything?” This was crazy… it was way too much to ask of you.

“Anything,” you confirmed resolutely. He could see your determination in the set of your jaw and the way your gaze met his unwaveringly.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Ah, this is crazy…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

“The only recorded cases where a hybrid was able to move on from an imprint… is when the object of the imprint passed away.”

#btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btswritersnet #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #hybrid taehyung #bts hybrid #bts hybrid au #bts future au #bts scenarios #bts fic #dont ask dont tell

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tetsuroyaoyaoya · 3 years

Text

✧ CAFÉ AU NAME ✧

pairing: barista!akaashi x f!reader

word count: 2,418

synopsis: you walk into akaashi’s back-alley coffee shop every thursday evening with a new book, a new order, and a new name.

The feathers of the duster glided over the counter, brushing off any loose beans onto the linoleum on the bar. Conscious of the time, Akaashi let his eyes wander over to the door expectantly. It was still an hour till closing time, but that’s not exactly what he was looking forward to.

For the last two months or so, every Thursday evening, roughly an hour before close; in walked you.

From the second you walked through the door, he was entranced by you, and his infatuation only deepened the more you visited his hidden little cafe.

Akaashi had never been one to have friends, besides ones he met through his old volleyball team, and there was definitely no girlfriend anywhere in the picture, so he didn't really know where to start when just one look at you made his heart tumble out of his chest.

And, becuase of course, there was another dilema on his mind; despite asking for your name every time he made your drink, he didnt actually know your real name yet. Every time you came in you had ordered something wildly different, along with a brand new name. The poor boy thought he was going insane.

The first time he had met you, it had been a sunny evening, and as usual, the shop was pretty much empty - only two customers and himself occupying the café. He was practically begging for something to do before the bell on the door chimed, signalling another entry.

For the first time in his life, Akaashi had to physically pause in shock as he laid eyes on you. He quickly caught himself out and slipped right back into his role, but the fact that you had caught his attention enough to distract him like that was baffling to him.

"Good evening. What can I get started for you?" His eyes followed you as you approached the counter gracefully, smiling at him before squinting up at the menu.

"Ah... hazelnut mocha? Yeah, regular size, please." Akaashi resisted the urge to chuckle at your indecisiveness.

"And a name for that?" You rained an eyebrow slightly, eyes darting around the shop, noting how empty it was. Akaashi has realised his mistake, but it was both a mistake of habit and just a petty excuse to learn your name.

"Elizabeth." Once again, Akaashi was rendered speechless. It seemed his surprise didn't go unnoticed either as you attempted to hide your giggle behind the book he hasn't realised you were holding. he tried to catch the title, but didn't get the chance as you had composed yourself before he could even blink.

He cleared his throat and moved to the till, where he quickly tapped your order into the machine. He tried desperately not to blush when your hands brushed as you handed him the money for your drink, and decided to focus on making your drink instead of studying your face.

However, because of this, he completely missed the way your eyes followed him as he danced across the bar, first for the syrup, then for the chocolate. It was as if you would miss the entire show if you took your eyes off of him. He moved so fluently it was if the process was ingrained into his body. You continued to watch as he allowed the chocolate to steam unsupervised while he prepared the espresso, savouring the scent of the coffee as he pulled the shots.

You noticed a slight change in the sound to the steam, as did he, and without even looking he turned the lever to stop it, while also pouring the the espresso into the mug and swirling it together. The pouring felt like some sort of performance, with the way he held the jug so lightly, gently and precisely guiding the chocolate into the mug, wiggling it to make a gorgeous pattern on top.

He placed the drink on a saucer, pairing it with a spoon and a little biscuit that he had pulled from seemingly nowhere. You smiled gratefully as he pushed it over to you, barely able to meet your eyes.

“If you want a quiet place to read, the corner over there with the ferns is probably your best bet,” He nodded over to a little nook across the shop and you could see what he meant, it was secluded, and all other tables were faced away from it, but you could still see out over the entire store, especially with it being so small.

“They’re fake... in case, you know... allergies?’ Giggling, you tucked your book under your arm in order to use both hands to carry the drink over to the table. A you did, Akaashi finally got a good look at the spine.

‘Pride and Prejudice’

Elizabeth, of course.

“I’ll be here if you need anything.” With one last nod in thanks, you left the counter, allowing the barista to breathe again without the fear or stuttering or stumbling over his words.

The second time he met you it has already turned cold, and frost was beginning to creep its way up the café windows. Luckily, it was nice and toasty inside the shop, and with an unlimited supply of hot drinks at his fingertips, it couldn’t be any better.

Except, it could.

Akaashi was actually meant to be training up a new barista today, and yet he was distracted, thinking about a certain customer that he hasn't seen in a full week now. Who did he think he was? Falling in love at first sight only to possibly never see you again? It was just his luck.

The owner was drawn out of his thoughts as he heard a hiss of pain, immediately looking over to see said new barista with a hand now covered in scalding hot coffee. He sighed, but quickly grabbed the cloth he kept in his apron pocket. Wiping the trainee’s hand, he instructed them to run it under cold water for as long as possible to make sure it didn't blister.

As they walked away, Akaashi faintly heard the door chime, and ran a hand through his hair in order to calm himself before speaking to a customer.

“Hi, what can I- oh...” You stood across the counter, warm eyes peeking out from where your neck and mouth were buried in the biggest, fluffiest scarf Akaashi thought he’d ever seen. He heard a small chuckle and you reached up to unravel yourself from the bundle of fabric.

“Stressed?” Your voice was soft when you finally freed yourself. Akaashi could only give you a nod and a small smile in response, aware of his trainee’s return to the machine. A quick once-over told him that they were fine and he could continue with their training.

“What can I get you today?” It only took one look between the two baristas to understand the situation, and you immediately took pity on the owner, deciding to order something simple to be nice.

“Just a latte, thank you.” The more experienced barista smiled at you gratefully, and put the transaction through the till before taking your money.

“And a name for that?” He suggested playfully, mostly in reference to his mistake the last time the two of you met.

“Emma.” He almost laughed, eyeing the new book you were holding. A fan of Jane Austen then. Akaashi opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass behind him. It was a good thing he turned away in a panic the second he heard it, or else he would have seen you jump out of your skin in surprise.

The whole café seemed to become even quiter than it already was for a few moments, only Akaashi’s soothing murmer present in the silence. He once again made sure that the trainee was alright before instructing them to step away so that he could clean up the mess. He disappeared for a moment before returning with a sweeping brush. With a smile, albeit a nervous one, he told you to sit down to wait rather than remaining at the counter.

“Get comfy, it may be a minute.”

The third time you returned to his little café, Akaashi was too busy already serving a customer to greet you immediately. He was so distracted that he hadn't even heard the chime of the bell on the door, which was unusual. What did attract his attention to you however, was the odd sniffle every minute or so to his left. He slipped his gaze over you in time to see you desperately trying to hold back a sneeze, nose scrunched in the cutest way possible, sleeve ready to catch it.

With a quiet chuckle he quickly finished up with his current customer, handing the order over to his trainee, who had surprisingly improved by miles in the past week, and was now able to handle the standard drinks to an acceptable degree.

As the customer moved on, he watched you with an amused smile as you practically waddled up to the counter, no scarf today, but instead a chunky sweater that more of less buried you, barely visible fingers clutching your book choice for this week - Sense and Sensibility.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly and you rolled your eyes. Despite the scarf the previous visit, you had managed to catch a cold last week from the freezing wind you walked through to get to the café, and you still hadn't fully recovered yet.

“Afternoon, Elinor.” Your eyes widened as he guessed you name for this week before you even had chance to order, but it brought an excited smile to your face.

“Something strong... uh, a... ugh!” He snickered at your frustration and you scowled, a crease in your brow, but he couldn't take you seriously with the bright pink flush across your cheeks the cold had given you.

“A cappuccino!” You announced triumphantly, but quickly calmed yourself in slight embarrassment as you realised you might have been just a tad too loud. Akaashi was clearly enjoying your playfulness today, but made no comment, thankfully.

“Chocolate dusting?” You perked up again at that, but remained sheepish.

“Extra, please?” He put your order through the till as he always did, and you stalked off to find your usual seat as he handed it off to the trainee.

The fourth time you stopped by, the cold spell has finally disappeared, and the glow of the evening light shining through the windows was slightly warmer than it had been recently.

Despite this, the sight of the improved weather was immediately dampened when you walked in, such a tired expression on your face that Akaashi physically stopped in his track out of worry. You always had such a happy smile that seeing you without it seemed so strange.

At the look on his face, you tried your hardest to smile like you usually did, but you could both that it was horribly forced, and you gave up quickly.

“Choose for me today, ‘kaashi.” He didn't know what surprised him more - the nickname or the fact that you knew his name in the first place. Obviously it was on his name tag that you saw every time you were in the shop, but he hadn't expected you to actually remember it.

He couldn't help the strange feeling in his stomach, both in worry and... something else that he couldn't quite place the feeling of.

“This one’s on me. Jane today?” Even with your mood, you were never without your precious book. A quick look at the cover told him that it was Jane Eyre today, his favourite.

You opened your mouth to protest, but one stern look from Akaashi shut you right up. You gave him a thankful smile, a genuine one, and slowly walked off to take your usual spot.

Akaashi waited until you had your back turned to quickly switch places with his other barista in order to personally make your drink today. The other barista was shocked at his hurry, but shook their head with a smile at the action. They had witnessed enough interactions between the two of you to understand.

The next week, Akaashi waited all day and all evening, so worried about last week and how you left without a word that he couldn't even focus on his work because he just needed to see you to make sure you were okay.

But you never came.

He was upset, but you were probably busy, or something had happened, but the though of an incident of some sort only put him even more on edge than he already was.

With a sigh, he exited the shop, adjusting the bag on his shoulder so that he could place the key in the door to lock it. He was about to turn the metal when he heard frantic footsteps behind him. Akaashi glanced back to see you, rushing as quickly as you could, jacket billowing behind you as you made it towards him.

You came to a stop just next to him, hands on your knees as you attempted to catch your breath as Akaashi stared down at you in bewilderment. As you finally stood straight, you smiled heavily, breaths still laboured.

“Work meeting ran over,” you tried to explain, “you aren't closed yet, are you?” You could clearly see him with the key in the door, but he could hear the evident disappointment in your voice.

“Depends.” Hope flooded your features and the absolute joy on your face would have made him give in if he hadn't already.

“On?” Even if he didn't know it, you could see plain as day how dejected he looked today, and you had an inkling that it was to do with your lack of appearance.

“Tell me your name.” The was a slight pause, before you giggled at the simple condition, causing Akaashi to turn his head away as to hide from you how contagious your smile really was.

“Y/N.” You held your hand out, having never been happier to introduce yourself to someone.

“Keiji, nice to meet you.” He took your hand in his and shook it, lingering for a moment before letting to go to take the key out of the door and open it, gesturing you inside with a smile.

You brought books to places with you to loose yourself in someone else’s fantasy, but maybe you had found your real-life fairytale.

masterlist

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #barista au

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