#I didn’t want to major in business communication in the first place man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

matixv · 2 years ago

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Mommy Lena Luthor x girl reader

Summary: Lena has been your mommy for a couple of years now, you have always behaved like a good girl, but work had been stressing you out recently and you find yourself taking out your anger on her by accident. She doesn’t want to punish you, but discipline is important and she wants to be sure you’ll learn how to communicate properly. After and during the punishment you start to regress and she notices it.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, smut, mommy kink, light spanking, scolding, discipline, slight exhibitionism kink, punishments, corner time, caning, reader goes non-verbal after the punishment, age play (pacifiers, diapers mention and breastfeeding mention), pet names (baby, little one, darling, sweetheart), everything is safe and consensual.

Words count: 2.6 k

…

You were about to leave your office when your boss called you back grotesquely, almost like he was talking to an animal. That day you had worked more hours than expected, and you had not been able to rest even a minute; everything had contributed to make your day worse, but above all, to make you lose any communication skills that were not railing against the ones who were talking to you.

You had tried every possible method during those exhausting fifteen hours of work surrounded by misogynistic and careless men: camomiles, relaxing music and other coping techniques to avoid throwing fists left and right, but nothing had worked.

The company you worked for was a major addition to the company that your fiancée, Lena, ran. Everything that was discussed or decided, then passed through the office of the one who had complete control over you. Everyone knew about your relationship, so they were especially strict and mean to you, but you never dared to tell Lena the truth, as much as you could, you wanted to keep your humble role in the company and if she knew how they treated you, she would have forced you to stay home.

The job consisted in finding new ideas to advertise and promote the company in the United States and abroad, this also required long periods away from home, but you were always chosen to accompany the boss on her travels.

“Y/N come here!” the dirty and mean man called you from his black chair placed in the middle of the office.

You stopped in your steps, and taking a deep breath, you walked down the marble corridor, your heels making clicking noises at every step. Your voice was about to break from the stress and tears you had been holding back all afternoon, but you forced yourself to talk anyway. "Yes? How can I help you, Sir?" you asked nicely, placing your hand on the solid wood door frame.

“You look adorable in that little pink dress of yours”. He said smirking in such a pervert way your stomach almost turned upside down. It wasn’t your first time he harassed you, but you decided to ignore it. You muttered a “thank you” and left the office in tears, running for dear life towards the car waiting for you outside the building.

As soon as you got to the ground floor and then outside the building, the driver opened the door and closed it as soon as he knew you were inside. The driver was a trusted man who had worked for the Luthors for many years, so he knew he didn’t have to ask questions about the state you were in. All he asked you for was confirmation of where you were going: the building where Lena worked.

In the back of the car, you tried to fix your makeup to the best of your ability, and to calm down before facing everyone you would meet in the next few minutes. You looked at the phone, but the messages you had sent to your girlfriend previously, still had to be seen. It was probably a busy day for her too. You couldn’t wait to spend a nice evening with her... and maybe... regress to enjoy your mommy all night.

As soon as you got to the company, you’d be on the top floor in Lena’s office. You knew that by now you would definitely have found the door open and could get comfortable on the chair or sofa if she wasn’t in her office. Normally at this time she was checking the daily work of the company, so with a nice sigh, you sat in the comfortable and fresh leather chair, your head was pulsating more and more and you seemed to be able to become small at any moment.

“Look at my baby girl!” You heard her happily screaming as soon as she landed foot in her office. The happy brunette entered her office with great joy, her black outfit giving a great contrast with her voice. “It’s so nice to see you! How was work today? Any good or bad news?”

And there she was, a Lena too happy and loud for your taste. Your eyes crossed for a few seconds and then looked back at each other. Her enthusiasm almost got on your nerves: you had spent all day receiving harassment and insults while she enjoyed the good life sitting at her shiny desk, life was unfair. You raised your eyes, immediately drawing her attention. “It was fine… as usual” you huffed denying her of a smile or even a look.

Lena was good at understanding your feelings, that was her role, especially when you were so small that you couldn’t communicate in any way. But at that precise moment, she made the wrong choice: to encourage you to smile and propose plans for the evening.

“Okay! So, I have planned a wonderful time for tonight! dinner in our favorite restaurant, the Italian one, and then how about a drink in the bar where we first met? would be a great idea to spend the evening in company and you know... remember how beautiful was our first night together"

“You are joking? Right?” You subtly laughed resting your head in your hands, your anger about to come out on the only one person you wouldn’t want for it to come out. “Tell me you are fucking joking”

“Baby, are you fin-“

“Do I look fine?” Your fists clenched and landed on her pristine desk, cracking the glass right in the middle of it. Lena didn’t even finch, she was used to rage outbursts, just not… yours. “Do I look like I want to enjoy a nice evening” you said the last two words mocking her voice. “I can’t stand anymore voices, anymore plans! I’m fed up with everything, and you are here making plans!? What kind of a fucking girlfriend are you?” Tears sliding down your flushed cheeks.

You looked down at the broken desk, not daring to lift your head. You know how dangerous her silence could be. You were now standing, having difficulty deciding your next move. You decided to stay silent and wait for her response.

You heard the sound of her heels coming closer and closer to you, your hands trembling, but you were afraid to hint at any movement. From the beginning of the dynamic, Lena had always shown that she was a sympathetic Mommy, who empathized with every whim of yours and helped you to be better, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t strict in giving discipline, and this was the first time you ever spoke to her like that.

You expected her to match your anger, to yank your hair back and make you kneel at her feet, but instead, her voice was calm… dangerously calm. “Remove your dress and heels, place them on the chair and then bend over the desk, I’ll be removing you panties myself once you are in position”

You knew better than to disobey further, tears already wetting your hands and neck. “Yes Mommy, I-I’m sorry” you tried to apologize.

“Every word I didn’t ask you to pronounce will worth a smack with the cane on your thighs, so choose wisely what to do” her voice stern, advising you on your next moves.

You did as she asked: Your dress and your heels were laid on the chair, your breasts felt the cold of the office, and your nipples soon hardened. When you turned to assume the position, you noticed the open door at the end of the room, and for the first time since your words left your mouth, your looks met. She quickly understood what you wanted to ask. “The door will remain open, I don’t care if someone sees me giving you the discipline you deserve”

You nodded, remembering how much she liked humiliating you in front of her work team. You stood up, bent over the frosty glass of your desk with only your cotton panties on. You knew this was a decision of the both of you, you could have stopped everything with a single word, but it was important for you to be able to vent like this.

You had never been punished like this: they were usually just a couple of spanks on her knees, never standing or bent like this. You had never used objects other than her brush, and that was enough, but you both decided what was a limit and what wasn’t, and you knew that she would waste the opportunity to use one of the tools that you were least waiting to try: the cane.

You trembled and whimpered, fear making you jump at whatever noise. “Color?” She asked placing a soothing hand on your lower back.

“Green” you whispered. A sharp and merciless smack landed on your sitting spot, making you joint forward, your nipples brushing on the broken glass. You forced yourself to silently look straight, not wanting everyone to hear your whimpers.

“Louder” she commanded. “You weren’t so shy to talk just a few minutes ago, you seem to have a pretty good loud voice” she teased rubbing the spot she just hit. She knew how to push your weaknesses, your guilt of misbehaving to the one and only person you trusted with your life. “Come on, louder” she encouraged with a lighter smack.

“Green, Momm-Mistress” you corrected yourself, not sure on how she’d like to be called during such a punishment. Sniffles started leaving your throat and nose, scared you wouldn’t be mommy’s good girl anymore.

“I’m still your Mommy, this punishment doesn’t change anything between us. I’m teaching you that the way you just communicated with me was not right nor respectful, understood?”.

You could only nod, thinking of your luck for finding such a sympathetic girlfriend even in the most delicate moments. She continued to spank you several times, until your ass turned crimson, which also seemed highly painful to the one who was administering the punishment. "Now I’m going to lower your panties to your knees, you’ll take ten spanks with the cane, and I want to hear you count every single one" she recommended lowering the only garment that protected your skin from direct contact with the upcoming object.

“Yes, Mommy” you gently approved of her next move.

It didn’t take that long until the instrument was in her hands. Your whole body was shaking and you had no idea how much more it could hold on. Lena spent a few minutes getting you used to the texture and feeling of the object on your skin, sliding it up and down your back and thighs. Once lifted, you prepared for the impact, closing your eyes and contracting your muscles. This only increased the pain you felt immediately afterwards, a cry of pain left your mouth, now oblivious to who might be at the other end of the door.

After some seconds, Lena was still waiting for the number to be said. She gave a gentle pat over the bruised area, but you were slipping in a deeper headspace to quickly to answer. She ignored your pain and lifted the cane once again, hitting the exact same point.

Your eyes blurred at the pain, tears flooding and pooling next to your hands. You didn’t even think you were able to count to five, you didn’t know numbers in little space. Lena knew she couldn’t use the cane anymore, not while you weren’t in the right space to tell her your color.

You heard her sigh, and throughout the window reflection, you saw her massaging her forehead gently, doubting on what to do with you and with your behavior. You decided to close your eyes and just let your emotions out. “I- can’t-stressed-work-tired-please” you sobbed, leaning your forehead to seek some cool from the desk.

You felt soft hands placing your undergarment where it belonged, and helping you up standing straight once again. She didn’t force you to apologize or to look at her, she knew you to well. She just limited herself in petting your hair. “Ten minutes in the corner, Little one”

You nodded and headed to the corner dedicated to your time-outs, face facing the wall.

You heard her putting some papers away and placing her cane back in the little storage under the library. You also heard her dialing some numbers on the phone placed on the coffee table next to her couch. “Miss Luthor here, I wanted to purchase a new desk, Yes, wooden this time”. You felt her eyes on you, and guilt started running deeply into your veins. “That model is fine, I want it here in my office by the end of the week, thank you.”

Loud cries filled the room, your hands flying to pull your own hair from the guilt you were feeling. Lena rushed to your side, turning you around. “Nothing of that, sweet girl, we don’t want to hurt ourselves, don’t we?” She soothed with her beautiful soft mommy voice.

You were too small to answer and just threw yourself in her embrace. You mumbled an apology while buried in her neck, but she quickly hushed you. “It’s okay, stress can be hard to deal with for little one’s like you, Mommy should have checked on you better before making plans, Mommy is sorry too, my sweet angel baby” she cooed lifting you up.

You let her help you wearing your clothes, and she tried to ground you a little by snuggling you in her dark suit jacket. Before heading outside, she searched in her purse and pulled out a small pink pacifier for you to suck on until you reached your safe house and could latch to her breasts.

By now the building was empty, but even with thousands of people, she wasn’t ashamed to pick you up in her arms and cradle you until she could buckle you in your car seat. As soon as she sat you down, you complained about the pain with a sharp whine, doing grabby hands towards her.

She soothed you with head pats for a couple of minutes, until you settled calmly. “As soon as we are home, Mommy’s gonna give you a hot bath and a little massage on your sore bum, then I’ll change you into a diaper and feed you, kay?”

You just nodded, too tired to say anything else.

….

Once you regained your communication skills the next day, you told Lena the cause of your anger, not omitting a single detail. After telling her about the harassment that you went through and the abuses that every day you had to endure, you were ready to spend the rest of your life at home, but this did not happen... indeed.

The next day at work, you found a particular name written on the office where your “boss” was just a couple of days ago. Your name.

You quickly discovered that Lena had fired every single man who disturbed you, and you were now the boss of the floor. On the desk there was a little note from her. “I know sweet girl, some days are harder than other and we might fail at communicating, but you know Mommy doesn’t like to punish you. Please, behave like a little good girl and do your best, Mommy will always wait for you at home. I love you my Angel Baby”

You wiped a tear and snapped a picture of the note, sending it to her with the answer: “I love you too, Mommy”

#lena luthor #lena x reader #agepl@y #little reader #gay nswf #spankee #discipline #lena lesbian luthor #bd/sm mommy #domme mommy #femme lesbian

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heroescore · 17 days ago

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Heroes

Chapter 5 - Ship

The press is relentless. They stalk and they dig and they ask, they find leaks and tear it open, all to get the most viewers or readers in name of “the truth.” The people deserve the truth, they shout while blatantly disregarding a man’s right to privacy. They were clever, but so was Slade.

He prevented the press from digging too deep, by releasing a statement. He decided to get to know the commanding officer of the 124th, and right outside the precinct she held a press conference, answering questions once and for all with a couple half-truths, but sounding believable enough to be accepted as absolute truth.

Aiden was working when the conference was held, but Mr Ecker turned on the TV in the corner and turned up the volume so everyone in The Joint could follow along. Phil had been sitting at the counter, working out a new piece for his column on his brand-new laptop, though he stopped to watch the conference along with everyone else.

People waiting in line didn’t even mind that Aiden took a break to watch as well, though he did quietly set a few things ready so he could catch up as soon as the important bit was over.

Captain Carnahan cleared her throat, explaining she was giving the statement in the first place, due to her precinct’s involvement in super affairs. Then she folded open a sheet of paper, and pretty much read aloud:

“I, Dr Douglas Slade, although famous for my ability to heal myself instantaneously, suffered a mortal wound roughly six years ago. This, too, I was able to heal, but it took a toll on my abilities and mentality, and my body reacted so slowly, I was presumed dead.

‘I do not have a full recollection of six years ago, but I understand my passing made a significant impact on the lives of supernatural humans in New York City and surrounding areas. The majority of my mentees retired from the role of superhero, and many talented individuals rose to the occasion to take their place. I was delighted to find, upon my return, that the cooperation between these individuals and the city has improved, but there is a dire lack of regulation.

‘Now that I have fully recovered, and after seeing all the changes after such a short period of time, I have decided to take it upon myself to turn this hot-spot for supernaturals into a safe spot. I strive for my plan to have little to no impact on the current order of business, except for the improvement of communication between individuals as well as between them and the city, and to create a medical safety net for these individuals and their direct family.

‘I am well aware that these plans of mine are ambitious and will require me to put in many hours of work, seven days a week, for God knows how long. I therefore kindly request the press to turn their attention to other current affairs, and to stay tuned for updates, which will come whenever I deem it appropriate to publish.”

After that, Captain Carnahan answered a couple of questions with some rather vague answers, leaving the press wanting more, yet having nothing to latch on to.

“Great, now we’re going to see so-called experts speculating and criticising the whole situation for weeks on end,” Ecker said with a sigh, turning the TV off.

“What’s that medical safety net he was talking about? He wants supers to get priority in the ER?” Phil questioned.

“Back in the day Slade ran a small private clinic where he provided healthcare exclusively for supers and free of charge,” Ecker explained, “medical safety net is just fancy speech for wanting to reopen his practice.”

“That makes sense,” Aiden said, “getting tossed into a world with so much unfamiliarity it must be nice to get to do something you’re good at.”

“...you’re really too good for your own good,” Ecker said, shaking his head as he helped him catch up with the line.

“Hey, let my friend be pure in peace,” Phil said, “also, when you have time can I have a refill, please?”

“Of course, you’re the first once we work away this line.” Aiden said, before handing the next customer their coffee. “Sorry for the wait, miss. That’ll be three-fifty.”

“No worries, we were all watching.” the woman said, while swiping her card before handing him a couple of bills, “Sorry they’re all singles. My boyfriend’s a...male entertainer.”

“Oh, well, women deserve entertainment too, I guess?” Aiden said, a little awkwardly, “have a nice day!”

“Gimme those, if there’s glitter on them we are so putting them in the rent jar, it’ll be so funny,” Phil said, trying to steal his tip.

Aiden smacked his hand away and simply tucked the bills away in the usual spot, before preparing his refill.

When the rush was over and things quieted down again, Slade showed up too. It seemed he had gotten a hold of his own clothing, or perhaps it was new now that he could finally access his money again.

Either way he almost looked like an entirely different person. Dressed smartly in a slim suit, expensive-looking leather shoes, a briefcase seeming to be filled to the brim with paperwork, and a tacky pocket watch...which didn’t work.

“Good evening~ Say, do clock makers still exist, or have they gone extinct?” he said as he walked in.

“Welcome!” Aiden said, “I...honestly wouldn’t know? You can try googling it?”

“...I can what now?”

“Why don’t I make you some coffee and then I’ll explain it to you?” Aiden said.

“That sounds like a splendid idea, Love. The usual, please,” Slade said, sitting at the counter next to Phil who, surprisingly, seemed speechless.

Slade noticed him gaping at him, and looked over.

“Can I help you?”

“Um…”

“Oh, that’s my roommate, Phil,” Aiden introduced, “he’s kind of a big fan.”

“No autographs.”

“Oh...then can I—”

“Nor photos, nor any questions besides ‘good day, how are you?’ or ‘How are you finding the weather?’ Thank you kindly.”

Phil bit his lip, while Aiden was trying not to laugh, mentally counting the seconds until Phil was unable to hold himself back.

“How does it feel?” he blurted out, “when you...get injured then heal immediately?”

Slade sighed deeply.

“Same pain, but it lasts shorter as it heals fast,” he said, “now no more questions, please.”

“Here’s your coffee,” Aiden interjected, handing him his cup.

“Ah, thank you, Love. Speaking of...how much do I owe you for all the coffees you bought me?”

“Ah, I haven’t been keeping track, don’t worry about it,” Aiden quickly said.

“Don’t be silly, I insist,” Slade said, pulling out a cheque book, “a hundred should probably cover it, including tips?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I’m already writing. Full name, please?”

“But—”

“Aiden J. Carter.”

“Phil!”

“Thank you, Phil,” Slade said as he finished writing, then tore out the cheque and handed it to Aiden.

“Now don’t forget to cash it in, Love. I’ll know if you don’t~”

“Man…”

Aiden sighed defeated as he put the cheque with the rest of his tips, praying people would stop surprising him with large amounts of money, relatively speaking of course.

“Now then, how do I find a clockmaker?” Slade asked.

“Right,” Aiden said, “swipe up to find all the hidden apps, remember? Then open the search engine. The button with the big G.”

Phil sipped his coffee as he watched his friend interact with a legend so casually, both leaning on the counter as they peered at the small screen together. Aiden showed Slade how he could call straight to the shop they found since he was on his phone.

While he called, another customer walked in, so Aiden went to help him, but Slade didn’t seem to be able to keep his eyes off of him. Phil could tell what was happening, but at least he waited for Slade to finish his call before speaking up.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said quietly.

“Excuse me?” Slade said.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Are you his chaperone?” Slade asked.

“No...I think?” Phil said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea...the two of you.”

“Well I’m sorry for developing a fondness for a kind young man,” Slade said.

“Young being the operative word,” Phil said, “you’re like, ten times his age?”

“And yours,” Slade said, “and if I ever be so lucky to do more than just look, it will be his decision, not yours. This protective shtick of yours might be well-intended, but it is not a good look.”

“That’s very progressive, but you don’t understand,” Phil said, lowering his voice even more, “he’s doing great now, but he’s not well.”

“Oh?”

“What are you two talking about?” Aiden asked, surprising both of them.

“Nothing important,” Phil quickly said.

“Phil was telling me about his laptop,” Slade said, “they’ve gotten so much thinner. If technology keeps developing at this rate we’ll be living on the moon in ten years.”

“Ah, they’re aiming at Mars for some reason,” Aiden said.

“Why that’s silly,” Slade said, “at least do a test run on the moon.”

“I don’t know, I kinda dig Mars,” Phil said.

“I think I’ll stay on earth, thanks,” Aiden said, “another refill?”

“Nah I think I’ll go home,” Phil said, “get some actual work in before dinner. Speaking of; oven lasagne or stir-fry?”

“Lasagne,” Aiden said.

“Deal! See ya later. It was an honour meeting you, sir. And if you ever change your mind about questions.”

“I don’t think so,” Slade said.

“Still, you know where to find me,” Phil said, leaving a business card on the counter and running off before Slade could decline it.

“What a twat��”

“Excuse you, that’s my best friend,” Aiden said, “if you wanna insult him, do it to his face, not behind his back.”

“But—”

“I’m not going to argue about it,” Aiden said, “it was uncalled for. End of story.”

Slade raised a brow. It seemed his observation from the previous chapter was correct. Aiden took no shit from rude customers, nor would he accept rudeness towards his friends, apparently. Slade could tell he messed up, so he quietly drank his coffee, paid for it, and left.

By the end of his shift, Aiden had already forgotten about his annoyance with Slade. He simply left the patrons in the hands of his questionably capable co-worker, and headed home, looking forward to that lasagne. He could already smell it by the time he reached the apartment door, eagerly unlocking it and heading inside.

“It smells great, Phil!”

“Thanks, I didn’t spill the cheese for a change and it’s not burnt to a crisp at the bottom of the oven for a change,” Phil said, playing a racing game, and keeping his eyes glued to the screen.

He was so focused he didn’t even realise he repeated a phrase. Aiden just let him be, putting his bag away and getting changed into something more comfortable before taking the lasagne out, dividing it onto two plates, and joining Phil on the couch, watching him trying to beat a speed record.

“How was work?” he asked, still rather absent-mindedly.

“Normal?? You were there, Phil.”

“I meant after I left— Ah shit, forget it!”

He promptly turned the game off after spinning out and losing his chance to beat the time.

“Still normal?” Aiden simply answered, ignoring his outburst.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well,” Phil slowly said, “you’ve gotten awfully close with Slade, haven’t you?”

“...not really?” Aiden said, “he’s pretty much just another regular.”

“You’re pretty dense for someone that can see emotions,” Phil said.

“Anyone can see emotions, Phil, do you see me getting frustrated?”

He gestured at his own frown.

“The guy has the hots for you,” Phil said.

“What? Don’t be silly,” Aiden said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Bro he was staring at you the whole time,” Phil said.

“While you were talking to him?”

“No before that.”

“That was hardly a minute, dude,” Aiden said, “maybe he just spaced out? You’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Or maybe you’re not seeing the obvious,” Phil said.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Aiden said, “besides, so what if he was staring at me? I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.”

“Fine, but if something happens to you I’ll know where to start looking.”

“My fucking goodness, Phil, he wouldn’t do anything like that!” Aiden said, “...would he? No! I’m not going to let you put ideas in my head, I’ve got enough of that going on already!”

He took his plate, and went to eat in his room. Luckily it didn’t ruin his appetite too much, but he didn’t have the best night. Someone was being noisy, trying to tire him out, and successfully so.

The next day he barely made it through lectures, and he was dragging his feet a bit as he headed to The Joint for his shift. Though, maybe interacting with people would be a nice distraction. He stretched a bit to wake himself up before stepping inside and getting ready. Ecker himself was behind the counter, making coffee for patrons and preparing slices of apple pie.

“Hi Mr Ecker,” Aiden greeted as he got behind the counter and stowed his bag away.

“Hey, kid. Could you bring these pies and two black coffees to the booth in the corner?”

“Of course,” Aiden said, grabbing his apron and a tray to bring the order over.

After that as customers thinned out and things quieted down, Mr Ecker disappeared into his office to work on...whatever he worked on in there. However, not before having a little chat with Aiden. Now that they could both be a little more open about their powers, he didn’t have to very carefully probe his mind for information.

“How are you doing?” he asked, “you seem a bit...off, today.”

“Hm? Oh, um...don’t worry about it, just a lot on my mind,” Aiden said, “between college and private life, and you-know-who…”

“The old one or the evil one?” Ecker asked.

“...excuse me?” Aiden asked, a bit confused.

“Don’t try to hide it from me, kid. You got two people on your mind today,” Ecker said.

“What— Oh! No, that’s just...Phil said something and I’m just thrown off I guess.”

“Well, word of advice, always listen to your friends’ opinion,” Ecker said, “I ignored everyone when I met my ex-wife, and I’m still dealing with her crap.”

“Um...I’m sorry to hear?” Aiden said a little awkwardly, “but also don’t worry, I never considered— Just no. I’m going to stop talking about it now….and thinking!”

Ecker just smirked a bit before going into his office, leaving Aiden to find distraction in his work. Luckily that arrived shortly after, in the form of a pale-looking man. His brown hair was beginning to turn grey, but not from age, judging from the lack of wrinkles on his face, but Aiden could sense the abundance of stress before the man even set foot in the shop.

He carried a stack of papers, and walked up to the counter, picking one off the stack and showing it to Aiden. It was a missing poster of a boy, twelve years old according to the text underneath his picture. He looked an awful lot like his father. Or rather, that’s what Aiden assumed upon seeing how similar they looked.

“Have you seen this boy?” the man asked, a little out of breath.

Aiden bit his lip as he shook his head.

“N-no, I’m sorry, I haven’t,” he said, “would you like something to drink? You look exhausted…”

“Thanks, but...I just spent my last cash printing these,” he looked down at his posters.

“Don’t worry about that,” Aiden said, “it’s on the house. Would you like to sit down, or would you rather take it to-go?”

“Th-thank you, so much...to-go, please. I’ve got an appointment with the police soon.”

Aiden nodded, putting a to-go cup ready for his order. Not wanting to take advantage of the young man’s kindness, the stressed father asked for a simple black coffee, before asking if he could leave a couple of flyers.

“I-I mean, I don’t want to impose, but I heard a lot of supers come here, a-and, I was just hoping…”

“No, I understand, it’s alright, I promise,” Aiden said, “I’ll put them right here so people can see them when they order something. Also, can I have another stack? I could hand them out at church…”

“Oh bless you,” the man said gratefully, pulling another stack out of his bag and handing that to Aiden.

“Thanks. I’ll stop by after work to give these to my pastor. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he’s found,” he said.

“Thank you so much...y-yeah I hope so,” the man said, “a-anyway, the number on the flyer is my mobile number. You can reach me whenever if anyone finds anything…”

“Has he been missing for long?” Aiden gently asked.

“Almost two weeks now. The police haven’t been able to find anything…”

“That must be awful,” Aiden quietly said, before handing him his coffee, “here you go. Best of luck with your search, and...don’t lose hope.”

“Thank you...so much.”

He gratefully took his coffee and took off to get to his appointment. Aiden looked back down at the flyers he had left behind, and for the first time in forever, he thought about his own parents. Had they too pasted his picture all over town on a missing flyer? Was his father’s hair beginning to turn grey from stress? And his poor mother…

The ring of the bell by the door tore him out of his thoughts as he put on his best fake smile to welcome the next customer.

“Welcome to The Joint, how may I help you?”

“Good afternoon!” Slade replied, as chipper as always, “say, I don’t suppose that search engine on my phone can also find a shipwright, can it?”

“Um...that’s weirdly specific?” Aiden slowly said, recovering from his entrance.

“Ah apologise,” Slade said, “I have a boat...yacht, small yacht...sailing yacht—”

“Weird flex, but okay,” Aiden said.

“I’m not sure I know what that means, but I’ll be getting it back soon, and I wanted to take residence in it, but it needs a lot of maintenance, preferably before winter.”

“Oh, um...well, you can try searching, I’m sure there’ll be something. It’s a big city after all. Anyway, what can I get you today?”

“The usual please, Love~”

Aiden nodded, but seemed a bit distracted as he poured some black coffee from the pot, spilling some and pouring it over his hand.

“Shit— Ouch!” he hissed, quickly wiping it off on his apron.

“You arite?”

“Yeah, just a job hazard,” Aiden said, taking some paper towels to clean the outside of Slade’s cup before handing it to him.

“I have to ask,” he said, “why do you call me that?”

“What?”

“...love,” Aiden slowly said.

“Have I?” Slade asked, “I believe I say that to all servers as a habit… Why, does it bother you?”

“No— I mean yes— No wait. I...don’t particularly care, I was just curious,” Aiden said, stumbling over his words a little, “I should...go ice this. Coffee hot.”

“Actually ice will do more harm than good, try lukewarm water,” Slade said.

“I know how to treat burns,” Aiden said, changing course from the freezer to the tap.

“Of course,” Slade said, hiding his smirk by taking a sip.

Considering how awkward the young man was acting, it seemed Phil had told on him. Oh well. Awkward conflicting feelings were part of life, he knew that all too well. And who knew? Maybe it was something he could look back on and laugh about when he grew older.

And like he told Phil, Slade didn’t have any intentions at the moment, but he did love to tease people. Especially when they had such a cute reaction~ However, before he got the chance to make his day a little worse, he noticed a stack of flyers by the register, reading the red letters spelling out ‘MISSING’ before picking one up.

“What’s this then?” he said to no one in particular, before staring at the picture.

“Oh, some guy left those here, his son is missing,” Aiden said, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, just...I know this lad,” Slade slowly said, “except he’s older now.”

“That’s what tends to happen over the span of six years,” Aiden reminded him.

“Aye, it’s just...I helped deliver him, and look at him now,” Slade said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Hard to look at him when nobody knows where he is,” Aiden said.

“How did the father look?” Slade asked.

“Very stressed, like he hadn’t slept in days,” Aiden said, “if you wanna reconnect with him, his personal cell is on the flyer.”

“Really? Not his office?”

“...he didn’t seem like the type of guy to have an office,” Aiden slowly said, “like, he said he spent his last money printing these flyers, so I gave him a coffee for free…”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Slade said, “he was rather wealthy when I last spoke to him, so if one of his children is missing you’d think there’d be a ransom demand. But if he’s not doing so well, and there hasn’t been a word yet...I ought to give my two cents to the police.”

He pocketed the flyer and finished his coffee, pulling out his wallet to pay.

“In the meantime, show the flyer to William — your boss — and ask him to do a search, he’ll know what it means.”

“Um, sure?” Aiden said, raising a brow to see Slade in such a rush, “do you...think he’s in danger?”

“I dunno, but it’s imperative that we find him sooner rather than later,” Slade said, before taking off, leaving Aiden a little confused.

Still, he shrugged it off and took one of the flyers to the back to show to Ecker.

“Hey,” he greeted, “so, some guy just dropped these off, and then Slade saw them and said you had to do a search?” he summarised.

“Did he tell you why?” Ecker asked, taking the flyer and looking at it.

“No, but he said it was imper...imperativ— He said it was important he’s found fast.”

“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I can keep a line out...is he still here?”

“No, he paid for his coffee and kinda ran?” Aiden said.

“Ah, well, you get used to that,” Ecker said.

“Why?” Aiden replied, “he’s just a customer, what do I care if he’s in a rush? Maybe as a regular, but so long as he pays I don’t care!”

He closed the door and went back to work, leaving Ecker to shake his head a little to himself. For someone growing up with a persistent demon it seemed his thoughts were surprisingly easily influenced. Still, it didn’t seem to impact his work performance, so Ecker decided to stay out of it, focusing on the missing boy instead.

Meanwhile Aiden’s life was beginning to look like a bad romcom, with a British man trying to get his attention, though fortunately he looked nothing like Hugh Grant. Luckily Aiden usually knew what to do with himself whenever he showed up again. Remain polite, chat about current affairs, and pretend to be busy to keep contact to a minimum.

Between that and Phil’s insufferable ‘I told you so’ attitude, as well as college breathing down his neck to actually turn in some work instead of only attending lectures, and occasionally some hero work, it was safe to say he was beyond exhausted. Yet still he couldn’t say no when Ecker asked him to work a closing shift one Saturday night.

He wanted to follow up on a lead for the missing boy, which seemed important, so Aiden agreed, and found himself in an empty cafe at about three am. It seemed no more customers would be coming in now, none of the regulars at least, so he turned off the open sign and started cleaning up. He locked the front doors, gathered his tips into an envelope and stuffed it in the bottom of his bag, before turning the lights off and leaving through the back alley.

Mistake number one.

The next was not beginning to sprint as soon as he noticed something moving from the corner of his eyes. He liked to think he could easily survive anything considering he spent his first few years in the city on the streets, but he forgot for a second that he couldn’t just transform into Cross in front of three strangers in a dark alley after they cornered him because he didn’t move fast enough. Great. So he was going to be mugged. Just what he needed...not.

“Well, well, well~” one of the men said, his face hidden under his hood.

“No need to waste time, I’m reaching for my wallet,” Aiden said, trying to stay calm as he slowly reached into his pocket.

“Atta boy~” one of the men said, whilst the others chuckled at the easy score.

Aiden just tossed his wallet at one of them. But instead of taking it and running away, they checked the contents first.

“Five fucking dollar?!”

“Take it or leave it,” Aiden calmly said.

“Nah, he’s got to have more,” another guy said, “you waiters are always loaded with tips. Where’s that money?”

“My boss collects it and deposits it on my account for safety,” Aiden lied.

It wasn’t the case at all, but he was going to strongly suggest it after this.

“Check his bag,” the man apparently in charge said.

Aiden mentally cursed. He wasn’t too tall, so they probably thought him an easy target...which he was, but he wasn’t willing to accept that fate quite yet. He dodged one pair of arms, but when he tried to run he was yanked back by his hoodie, landing roughly on the ground, before they pulled him back off, pinning him to the wall with an arm pressing on his throat.

He gasped for air, not even noticing they cut the strap of his bag until he felt it being yanked off of him. Of course they turned it upside down, but he didn’t quite care for it. He couldn’t breathe. He discreetly reached into his pocket again, finding his phone, and surprising his assailant by smacking it to the side of his head.

It forced him to back away, allowing Aiden to breathe again. No time to catch his breath, he tried to get away, but having hurt the man’s pride, he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“Get back here you little shit!”

“Dude, shut up, someone’ll hear!” one of the others hissed, which gave Aiden an idea as he was yanked back into the alley again.

“HELP! THIEVES!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Precisely what the three muggers didn’t want.

“Shut him up!”

“I’m trying!”

Two of them worked the young man against the ground, until one of them lost his patience and rammed his fist against the side of his head. The blow was hard enough to dizzy Aiden, his vision dancing before his eyes as he calmed down significantly, groaning in pain.

“Nice, now let’s get out of here in case someone heard!”

However, as they moved to leave the alley, their way was blocked by someone, breathing heavily as he had ran after hearing Aiden’s cry for help.

“Three against one, eh? That doesn’t seem very fair now, does it lads?” he said.

Aiden prayed he was dreaming. Really? Of all the heroes in this city, the one coming to his rescue was the one he had been trying to avoid for the past few weeks? Still, the throbbing pain in his head told him not to complain, so he stayed quiet. One of the muggers was still too close to him for comfort after all.

“Keep walking if you know what’s good for you, dude,” one of them said, threateningly pulling out a large knife.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Slade simply said, setting a step forward.

“Your funeral,” the man with the knife replied, taking it by the blade, and throwing it at Slade.

It seemed these muggers weren’t the simple folk Aiden had taken them for, as they weren’t above murder, considering the precision with which the knife was thrown, the blade sinking between his eyes and through his skull.

Slade’s head was thrown back, but to the muggers’ horror, he didn’t fall over. Instead, he slowly straightened himself, blood running down his face, but otherwise seeming perfectly fine.

“First of all,” he said, reaching up for the handle, “rude…”

He grimaced a bit as he slowly pulled it out, looking down at it.

“Secondly, I’m keeping this, this is a quality piece and I doubt it belongs to you.”

He casually tossed it in the air and caught it again, pointing it at the three muggers.

“And lastly. Let’s dance~”

However, they opted to flee instead, leaving everything behind, including their dignity as they booked it in the other direction. Slade was a bit disappointed, but it had gotten the job done either way. He quickly wiped the dagger on his shirt, before sticking it between his belt and going to check on Aiden.

“You’re lucky I passed by when I did,” he said, “that particular little gang has been leaving bodies all over the city. Are you arite?”

“Hgnn…” Aiden couldn’t find the words or the energy to reply.

Slade bent over him, gently tilting his head and finding a bruise forming on the side of his head.

“That’s going to smart,” he said, “don’t worry, you’re in good hands, Love. Let’s get you off that nasty ground. Tell me where you live, I’ll take you there.”

However, he received no reply, and upon closer inspection, it seemed he had lost consciousness. Slade sighed, taking off his jacket to use as a pillow while trying to think of what to do next...

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drdemonprince · 2 years ago

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oh my god can i get trans masc self infantilization for 500 alex

Quick hate read of this piece:

my relationship to gender was mediated (isn’t it always) by capitalism. I could not meet another trans man who could tell me how to behave, but I could shop for one. I could buy distilled trans expertise, and tell myself I was putting money back into “the community;” I was engaged in political action, redistributing my middle-class cash to support people I had never met, but whose welfare was, nonetheless, my business.

oh my fucking god Jude buying a huge crop of trans books at the local indie bookshop is not political action. I know booksellers who work at beloved indie-progressive bookstores quite intimately so if you haven't heard yet, I'll be the first to tell you: no matter their feminist branding, these places treat their workers like shit and pay them minimum wage. And often these stores are hell to be in for trans femme people.

edit: whoops he didnt even claim to support indie bookstores, it was a chain in a mall wtf

Also, it's baffling to me that a published author like Doyle can claim buying books is somehow redistributing wealth to poor, trans authors. First, wealthy people are widely overrepresented in publishing, and two, the vast majority of published authors never see a single cent of royalites. Over 90% of books never "earn out". You'd be kicking them about $2.50 of a $25 hardcover sale even if they did. stop making your consumption seem righteous dude.

These authors didn’t hate people like me; they didn’t disagree with me or dislike my general aesthetic. These authors literally hated me, me personally, the dude who had recently given them money.

the ENTITLEMENT!!! How dare these trans authors post openly that they disagree with you and your tepid liberal politics, you bought one of their books and (maybe, but probably not) gave them $3 !!!!

To a shy eleven-year-old boy on his first day of school, which is what I was emotionally and even hormonally at the time, it was devastating. I cried for days. I was on vacation.

a middle aged incredibly well connected man in publishing is pulling "im a little birthday boy -- hormonally" shenanigans. I get that reading critical comments about yourself hurts. I have been there buddy. I've received repeated misgendering, misogynistic criticisms and insults while I was newly on HRT and not even out to anyone! I was also a 30 year old adult man with a career and coping tools. I was not an eleven year old boy. I was not the victim of anything, really, except for my own lack of comment moderation habits at the time.

the amount of real life transphobia i have since lived looms so much larger that little petty online slights doesnt even rank. we're not talking about threats or doxxing here. we're talking people on twitter thinking he shouldnt be the face of trans politics.

because I know who this author is and move in the same circles, I have seen the message of hate that he's talking about. People mostly talk about him sardonically and insult his worst opinions and most hastily-written pieces. That's not even hate. That's just begging him to be responsible in his work and to maybe not write apologia for trans cops (one of the bad takes he was most openly criticized for at the time).

Those guys were my heroes, was the thing. They were the ones I had wanted to teach me how to act. I used to imagine conversations with them, think about what I would ask if I got the chance.

Buddy, you said you literally just discovered these authors mere weeks or months prior, having bought up every book published by a trans guy that you could find. It's not like you had posters of them hanging up on your bedroom wall as a child. And even if you did, youre a grown man in your forties who writes very inane takes. Some critique from your contemporaries comes with the territory and is in fact a compliment. it means people recognize youre a significant cultural voice and they want you to do better!

When I get into conflict with another trans person, when I stumble on the thread where my elders are shit-talking me, I am not looking at my computer. I’m in my math class, after lunch period, hearing the squeak of metal on linoleum as someone drags their desk a few inches away.

your elders??? are you talking about people who are like, three years older than you Jude .I understand that hostile middle and high school experiences bring massive trauma, but holding adults who are intellectually critiquing you, a fellow adult, responsible for the trauma you endured as a teen is so wildly inappropriate and immature that i cant stand it.

It would be one thing if Doyle showed any self-awareness of the disjoint here, and was just talking about being triggered, but he doesnt, not anywhere in the piece. he implies throughout that it's people being mean to him on twitter who are really at fault.

oh my god he likens himself to Isabell Fall later on in this piece i cant

i just cant with this dude hes always taking so many unnecessary Ls and gets hired so fucking much to write about trans experiences when he clearly has next to zero community connections and sense of scale when it comes to the issues we face. its so annoying!!!

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wormbloggign · 11 months ago

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Glenn Chambers wore plaid pants with red and green, and a pink dress shirt, His belt bore a buckle with the PRT logo on it. His hair had changed too, parted neatly into what I assumed was ‘geek chic’, and the glasses had changed as well, with thick, round frames. An ID card hung around his neck. He didn’t fit any of those particular archetypes.

i love how shit his fits are. this man CANNOT dress. let him micromanage every aspect of your persona.

“Go, and hurry,” Glenn said. “Tell them to fix it and cast another prototype before the run starts. These are toys, they’ll be in the hands of children and collectors both. The people who are buying these are fans. What’s it going to say if their most immediate association with Esoteric is the broken toy sitting on a shelf? It’s going to convey that he’s flimsy.”

ok thats just poor organisation, you'd have the base construction and elements of the doll figured out WELL before you start working on its visage. glenn has dropped in my opinion of him

“I asked to speak to you because I wanted you to know about the damage that’s being done.” “Ah, this is about the butterflies.” “It’s about a lot more than butterflies. It’s the whole mindset. The attitude of the heroes. I’d talk to Chevalier, but he’s too busy. I’d talk to Rime, but she’s recovering from being shot three times. You’re the only other person I’ve met so far who really seems to be in a position to know what I’m talking about. Besides, as far as I can figure, image and PR seem to be at the heart of the problem.”

she's back to her favourite pastime. (i genuinely love everytime she does this)

“The focus isn’t on lethal or nonlethal,” Glenn said. “It’s on whether we can trust you to keep on the path you’re walking. If you start taking shortcuts now, what happens a year down the line? If we decide you can go all-out in one specific situation, does that open the door for another?”

genuinely good point, good to see glenn is trying hard to properly vett new capes

taylor goes so hard as a monster i really do love it

“Until I turn eighteen,” I said, feeling a little hollow.

that's less than a year, you can handle that.

Chevalier approached. “You murdered two people. Three, going by your admission while in custody. Two PRT directors, one major hero. When Dragon and Defiant suggested we bring you on board, we were divided. It was Glenn who offered the compromise that we ultimately agreed to. This compromise.” I glanced at Glenn, who shrugged. Glenn?

glenn wanted an excuse to integrate hexagon tiling into NEW PRT advertising didnt he

“That’s why you’re waiting two years? You think that it’ll take that long to vet me, before you can give me actual responsibility?”

two years? didnt she turn 17 around the time coil did his big bombing run? did she just forget?

LETS FUCKGIN GOOOOOO

that's genuinely horrifying, thanks

Mail from all around the United states. From strangers, from fans. Words of support. Criticism. Death threats.

this is functionally the first time the general public has had the chance to communicate directly to her. yeah i expected as much

hes bumbling 🥺🥺🥺

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! what the fuck???

aishas doing great actually

lisa is lisa-ing

Atlas died. I wanted to let you know. Tattletale had him, but he wouldn’t eat or move. We asked for him, and we found a place for him. The guys say they think they know a good way to make a mold. They’re covering him in brass. A way of saying you’re still with us. Take care of yourself. -Char

MY BOY ;-;

silly goofy, rachels going through it.

overall, taylors polycule miss her and the others have their own thing

Withdrawing a notepad, I started sketching out the designs I was thinking of. Alterations to the costume, weapon ideas, tools and concepts.

!!!! !!!!

The costume Defiant and Dragon had given me was theirs, not mine. The fighting style that had been dictated was Glenn’s and Chevalier’s. This, this would be me.

im gonna have to draw her new costume too when it get out arent i.

(we are pretending like im not incredibly excited about this development)

#liveblogging worm #Drone 23.3

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mikeisthricedeceased · 2 years ago

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Could I request a Din Djarin x earth reader where they were harassed at work but their job did nothing about it

I can honestly say I’ve never considered writing an earth reader into a Star Wars fic, despite the fact that I’ve read a few. This is an interesting situation to think about 🤔

Warning: mentions of stalking

(Sorry it took so long to answer this, I had most of it done and then ended up having some busy days)

You weren’t trying to hide your frustration. You probably couldn’t have hidden it even if you’d wanted to.

It had been weeks of little comments, digs at you and the way you did your work, building up into borderline inappropriate exchanges about you that he didn’t even try to hide. And no one would ever say anything about it! He was always just vague enough that it wasn’t explicitly about you, never a name mentioned, but it was always about you.

It had finally reached a tipping point. Leon had implied that he’d been keeping close tabs on the mystery person he was always complaining about, had been gathering proof of their unprofessional behavior.

It wasn’t too far of a leap to assume that he’d been stalking you in some way, whether online or physically.

It was too much. So, you went to your supervisor, keeping your language a bit vague. She’d sent you to the manager, who had barely let you say anything before directing you to HR.

And oh, boy, HR.

You haltingly explained everything in more detail than you’d done with the previous two, hoping to make them understand what it had been like for the past few weeks, how you were pretty sure it started before that but had always taken place firmly behind your back.

The best they offered you was a sympathetic smile and a suggestion to change to a different shift that didn’t align with Leon’s. They said they couldn’t do anything about his actions outside of work unless you had proof.

And he’d always been just vague enough to make getting proof almost impossible.

So, you left work early and cried in your car for a little while before driving home.

By the time you got there, you felt drained and pissed off.

With everything at work, you’d pretty much forgotten about the sheer chaotic weirdness that waited for you inside your little house.

It was a shock to see the space man sitting on your couch and working on the massive puzzle you’d spent months trying to complete.

When you first started leaving him alone in your house, it was sort of understood that he’d spend most of the day reading or working on his space ship. That was until he realized that, despite the two of you being able to communicate verbally, your written language was completely different from the Aurebesh he was used to.

So, when he wasn’t doing repairs, you’d directed him to your small collection of jigsaw puzzles instead.

The big-eared alien child he’d brought with him seemed to sleep through most of the day when he wasn’t jumping (far higher than you could’ve ever expected) across your backyard, around the damaged space ship that took up the majority of its square footage.

Thank God for privacy fences.

The space man looked up at you when you walked in. At least, you assumed he looked up. His helmet moved, and that was really the closest thing to facial cues you ever got from him.

“Hi,” he greeted gruffly.

You dropped your bag into the nearest chair and tried to fight the urge to start crying again, biting out a “hi” as you shuffled to the other end of the couch. You pulled the throw blanket around yourself and wished you could shrink into nothing.

For a few minutes, there was uncomfortable silence, your unhappiness seeming to radiate outward. He was the first to speak.

“Are you alright?” It was a polite sort of concern, but in a bad situation like the one you were experiencing, that question always made reality come crashing down on you.

And that day was no different.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, even as your emotional state began to truly crumble. Your chest was tight and your eyes stung, pressure building in your head.

He turned to look at you more directly. “You aren’t.” Even the child looked up from where he was playing on the floor, big eyes following his father’s gaze to you. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoffed, eyes watering. “Only if you can make the HR department take me seriously.”

“I’m not sure what that is, but I could try.”

You tried to give him a skeptical look and were abruptly reminded that he was a helmet-clad bounty hunter from space. There probably weren’t HR departments where he came from, and even if there were, he’d likely have a pretty homicidal way of dealing with them.

Tears spilled down your cheeks but that didn’t stop you from laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. “I don’t think you could do much to help that wouldn’t bring the risk of jail time. Thank you though.” You offer a weak smile, feeling a little bit better since your entire focus wasn’t centered on Leon and HR’s bullshit. “I appreciate the offer.”

“I can be diplomatic. Sometimes, it even makes my job easier,” he assured you good-naturedly, if a touch defensive.

You smirked. “Yeah, well, I doubt they’d take you seriously, even if you did start things off by threatening them. Your whole outfit looks like a costume to people here, not real armor.” Sighing, you picked up the remote and starting searching for something to watch. “I’ll figure something out. Even if I do have to swap shifts. It’d be annoying and I’d have to move some other things around, but if it gets rid of a stalker, I’ll do it.”

He went still. “You’re being stalked?”

“I’m not 100% sure, but it seems pretty likely. I don’t know if it’s just online, or if he’s following me around.” You shivered, not wanting to get too deep into the topic just as you’d started to calm down. “Either way, my coworker is a pompous creep and it’s getting on my nerves.”

~*~*~*~

Din wanted to ask more questions. He wanted details, to know who was making you feel so unsafe. From what he could gather, your job wasn’t inherently dangerous in the same way that his was. It didn’t seem right that a coworker should be allowed to create such anxiety for you.

He could tell that pushing the topic further would only upset you, and he had no desire to do that.

You’d been kind to him and to Grogu, going out of your way to let them stay in your home and feed them while they were there. You had explained how the different devices in your home worked and what they were used for. He wanted to repay you for your hospitality, but your world seemed far removed from the galaxy at large, and he didn’t know what would be acceptable.

So, he tried something that he offered Grogu when he was upset. After all, he had seen similar gestures in some of the holovids that you watched in the evenings.

He held out his hand to you, the move careful but deliberate.

Upon noticing his hand, you just blinked at it for a moment. Then, hesitantly, you took it.

He squeezed gently. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him.”

Your eyes welled up again and you took a deep breath, squeezing his hand back. “Thanks.”

It made something deep in his chest ache to see the pain on your face. So, he tried to alleviate it a bit. “He sounds like an ass.”

A startled laugh bubbled up and you squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Yeah, he really is.”

You just looked at him for a little longer, eyes tracing the curves and angles of his helmet, until Grogu waddled up to him, practically demanding cuddles.

It would seem that the kid had adjusted to your routine, knowing that holovids meant quiet time on the couch.

So, the two of you let go. He pulled Grogu in close, and you grabbed the remote once again. The silence that followed was far more comfortable than it had been before.

Ask Prompts & Headcanons

#gabriel-the-pandalorian #ask prompt #din djarin #din djarin x reader

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shadowynn · 2 years ago

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(preview of yandere!vampire!cult!poly!ateez au wip below the cut!)

merry christmas and happy holidays!! in honor of this festive time of the year, I was hoping to do a short christmasy drabble with in love and lore, but am sorry to announce my procrastination has gotten the better of me to the point it’s just not getting done, at least not in time for this christmas.

speaking of in love and lore, I have hit a rough bit of writer’s block, so I’ve taken a short break to just clear my mind and enjoy the season. the last thing I want is to force things and come to hate writing it. I’ll be visiting my family this week, but once I’m back home, I’ll be back to writing. I have a few ideas floating around in how I want the next chapter to go, and hoping for the next chapter to come out mid-January at the latest.

however, I would like to give you all something, so I have decided to give you all a short preview of a wip that hit me like a storm this past week. It’s based off the movie 1BR on Netflix, with the inclusion of vampires because I just couldn’t help myself. Keep in mind, that this is a very early wip and that it’s still in major development. with that also being said, I do not plan on making this work as big as a project as in love and lore. More as just a series of drabbles and scenarios. like there will still be a plot, but not the world building that my other work has. but who knows, maybe as it develops, it’ll get there.

so, without further ado, I present to you a preview of… The Paradigm Complex

“So, what do you think?”

You were startled from your thoughts at the voice that spoke up next to you. The seat beside you that had previously been empty now occupied by the sweet-talking man who had been your tour guide for the day - Yeosang if you were recalling it correctly. It had surprised you how young he was when you had signed in for the open house earlier that afternoon, and you were once again struck by that very same thought as he plopped down next to you, head propped up by the elbow that rested against the table.

“It’s very nice,” you replied, eyes once more taking in the scene around. After touring the available unit for the first half of the showing, you had been brought to the center of the complex that was used as a community center. The outside area was enclosed by the building around it and included everything from a garden and greenhouse to a swimming pool and grilling area. “And the community also seems very nice and safe.”

You referred to the young boy currently sitting in your lap, content with drawing on one of the backs of the application you had been given at the end of the tour to fill out. You didn’t know anything past his given name, Junseo, but he had become attached to you when you noticed him crying on the ground near the garden. While the others in your group had swept their eyes right by the sniffling child, you had approached him, rustling through your purse for the bandages you kept when you noticed the cut on his knee. His mother had thanked you profusely when he led you to her, too busy tending to another part of the garden to notice what had happened. And though you had left him with her, it didn’t take long for him to return to you, preferring your company over the other kids milling around while his mother worked.

You thought it strange, but the wave the mother sent you when she saw him with you told you she didn’t mind, making you wonder just what sort of community there was here for her and the others to be comfortable with letting their children run free.

It was just another factor that told how nice this place was. Everything about this place was nice. Nicer than any place you had ever lived in before. It was perfect, everything you could wish for, but-

“But…” As though he had read your mind, the man finished your train of thought, a hint of a smile tracing his lips as his eyes traveled to the papers you had left blank up to this point. The only markings on them from the scribbling Junseo had done along their backs.

“But it’s a bit out of my price range, I’m afraid.”

A bit was an understatement; the place was double what you could afford. You had known that going in though. The Paradigm housing complex had made a name for itself within the past few years as one of the most prestigious and highly exclusive apartment complexes in the city, and you had known the price for the available unit would be high above your budget. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from signing up for the open house the following weekend when you noticed a few spots were still available. It wasn’t often a unit became vacant, the last one had been nearly a year ago, and the timing had been impeccable.

You weren’t really looking for a new place to live. You had one in the south end of town with your boyfriend, and yet, that hadn’t stopped you from looking at available housing in the city on your laptop late at night when he was still at ‘work’. You wanted out. You had wanted out for months since you had first caught wind he was cheating, and still cheating, but it had always seemed so impossible. You were still finishing up your last year in school, and even with working enough hours to be considered full time at the bookstore, you could barely afford your half of the rent. A fact he readily reminded you of any time you wanted to leave him. As much as you hated every time he said it, he was right. You needed him. Unless you were willing to sacrifice your own safety and move into a shitty unit in a sketchy part of town, you were stuck where you were. You needed him and he knew it.

Perhaps it was because of this that you had come out today. He had been scheduled for a weekend shift at the hospital, leaving you free to come to the open house without him questioning you on your whereabouts as you left. The Paradigm was a life you could never afford, and yet, it was nice to escape reality for a few hours. To sit and imagine what your life would be like if you hadn’t landed yourself in such a sticky situation. And yet, you hadn’t expected the stab of melancholy that had hit you as you had roamed the studio apartment available for rent, nor as you sat here in the courtyard with the pleasant buzz of the complex’s current tenants as they roamed through the area.

“Does that mean you’re looking for a place on your own, then?” he asked, attempting to blow the piece of hair the wind had cast in front of his eye.

“Myself?” You asked, not quite fully understanding which way he meant his statement and feeling a tad panicked at the thought of leaving your boyfriend to start afresh on your own. Was that something you could really do? “Uh, yeah, it would just be me.”

“Well, if you ask me, it doesn’t hurt to still apply. We’re always more than willing to negotiate prices for the right person,” he hummed, fingers tapping against the table. “Though it would probably be best if I grabbed you a new copy. Junseo doesn’t seem too keen on letting yours go at the moment.” Junseo looked up at the mention of his name, and matched the goofy smile Yeosang sent his way.

“That’s very kind of you, but even then…” You turned your face away, fighting the blush the embarrassment your current situation brought. Despite attempting to dress up for the event, you still stuck out from the other people who had signed up. The designer clothes and handbags a stark contrast from your thrifted outfit. Hell, even Junseo had nicer clothes than you to run around the garden in. “To be completely honest, I just really wanted to get an inside peek of this place. I knew I can’t afford to live somewhere like this at the moment, but I thought it might be fun to just see what it would be like.”

You resituated Junseo’s position in your lap, taking in the people milling around the grounds. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm. The perfect day to spend some time outside and enjoy what remained of the summer. You could see yourself fitting in well here. Helping out in the garden in between playing with the few children roaming the grounds. Maybe even take a dip in the pool to cool off from a hard day’s work before lounging in a nearby lounge to soak up the last of the summer sun.

It was just too bad that was a lifestyle you couldn’t afford on your own. Not while you were still in school and struggling with bills and debt as it was.

“But you are currently looking for a new place to live, right?”

“It’s not an immediate necessity at the moment, but yes,” you nodded, “if given the opportunity, I would move in a heartbeat. Not just here, but anywhere. As long as it was safe and something I could call my own.”

“Then fill out an application.” He ruffled around in his bag, pulling out another application and pen and pushing it towards you. “I’m close with the owner and can put in a good word for you. Just fill it out, list the rent you can feasibly pay at the moment, and we might be able to work something out. After all, we’re much more concerned about quality than quantity here at Paradigm.”

“You would do that?” Your eyes widened, wondering why on earth this man would do that for you when the rest of your group would be willing to pay twice the starting rent just for the opportunity to say they lived in the most exclusive complex in the city. “Why?”

“I like to think I have a nose for good people,” he smiled, fingers tapping against the application, “and you’re a good person, y/n, I can smell it. So, come on, Junnie,” he reached for the boy on your lap, ignoring the pout that crossed his lips as he took him from your hold, “let’s get you back to your mother so the pretty lady can fill out her application.”

He left you at that, but only made it a few feet before he was stopped by a nearby couple that had been in your group. By the glance they sent your way, you could tell they had overheard Yeosang’s mention of putting in a good word for you and hoped to earn a similar feat for themselves. After all, it didn’t matter who the first person to apply for the unit was or who was the highest bidder when it came to the Paradigm. You didn’t get to choose whether or not you lived here. They chose you. And a good word from the tour guide was exactly what you needed to get in. Not wanting to stick around for the conversation, Junseo wriggled his way out of Yeosang’s grasp and made off in the direction of his mother with one last toothy grin in your direction.

You turned to the second application he had handed towards you, twirling the pen in your hand as you mulled the decision over. None of it made much sense in your mind. Why would they select your application when there was hundreds of others that would willingly pay triple what you could? But even if that was the case, what did you have to lose by following through with it? If it didn’t go through, and you weren’t selected, you’d still be exactly where you were now. In a shitty situation, but no shittier than it already was. And on the tiny chance it did go through, well, your entire life could change. You would have that fresh start you had been yearning for so long.

That and, well, there was something charming about Yeosang. It didn’t slip your notice that he had called you pretty in passing, and though you knew it was just the way his personality seemed to be, you still felt a pull towards him. He was someone you felt you could get along with. Someone you would enjoy getting to know and become friends with if you only had the chance to.

So, before you could give it too much thought and talk yourself out of it, you pulled the application closer towards you and began writing.

You weren’t the type of person to pick up unknown calls, but something about the number that flashed on your screen as you waited out your lunch break in your car seemed familiar. You didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not after all the shit you had dealt with the first half of your shift, but your finger still hovered over the accept button as you quickly searched your brain for whose number it could have been. Thinking it might have been your doctor finally returning your call for a refill you had been waiting on or even possibly a call on one of the countless job applications you had been filling out the past few weeks, you grudgingly accepted. Figuring it was better to get it over with now instead of living with the stress of what it might be the rest of your shift.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this y/n l/n?”

“Um, yeah.” You shifted the phone in your hand, trying to place the familiarity of the voice on the other end. Was it finally a call back from one of the job applications you had put in? “This is y/n.”

“This is Kang Yeosang from Paradigm. I’m calling to let you know that your application for unit 617 has been accepted.”

“Wait, are you being serious?”

You couldn’t hold back the gasp his response elicited, sure this was some sort of joke being pulled. Despite Yeosang’s promise of putting in a good word for you, you had never expected anything to come of it. Not when you had followed through with his suggestion and wrote down the actual amount you could feasibly pay for the place. And though you had held on to some hope something would come from it, you had never truly expected to hear from them again.

“I can assure you, I’m quite serious,” he chuckled. “I talked with the owner about your application and he was willing to accept it with a few added stipulations I would like to discuss with you if you have the time.”

“Oh, okay.”

You did your best to hide your disappointment, fearing the worst. Despite Yeosang’s insistence they were willing to negotiate on pricing, you should have known they wouldn’t just willingly drop the rent by half for you just because he had felt pity for you.

“You see, one of our administrative assistants recently put in her resignation and we’re in need of a replacement. When we looked over your application, we noticed the address of your current residence and place of work are on the other side of the city and figured you would likely be in need of a job with a shorter commute if you were to move here.”

The dread which his earlier statement had caused was slowly being replaced with excitement once more as he continued to speak, eagerly hoping he was beginning to allude to what you thought he was.

“We’d like to extend a job offer towards you here at Paradigm, which if you were to accept, would cover the cost of your rent plus a biweekly stipend to cover any other expenses you might have.”

“And what exactly would the job entail?” you asked, trying hard to cover the shock his reply gave you and trying just as hard to not let your hopes get too high before you figured out exactly what it was he was offering you. There had to be a catch; the offer was just too good to be true. “I’m finishing up my last year of college online, but I would still need some flexibility in my schedule.”

“Oh, it would just be your typical administrative work. You’d mostly be assisting myself and the other managers here at Paradigm and we’d be more than willing to work around your class schedule,” Yeosang replied without skipping a beat. “When you have time, I’ve sent an email to you that includes a detailed description of the job, alongside the logistics of your pay and housing for you to look through so you can have a clearer idea of what you would be signing up for if you were to accept.”

You were silent, unsure of what exactly to say. What could you say? Everything you had wished for the past few months was finally being extended towards you. A new job, housing of your own, and most importantly, a way out of the toxic relationship you had been stuck in for so long. All of it. Everything you dreamed of for so long, now within reach.

There had to be a catch, right? It couldn’t be as good as it seemed, right? So what was it? A whole new life in exchange for your soul?

“I know this is a lot to take in, so don’t feel as though you have to accept anything right away. Read through the emails I sent you and just give us a call back sometime within the next two weeks with your answer.”

and that is a very rough start to my new project. feel free to let me know what you all think and if this is something that you would be interested in! once again, I hope you all had/have a wonderful holiday/Christmas season. :)

#ateez #in love and lore update #new project #wip #ateez fic #ateez x reader #the paradigm complex #you guys are the best #i love you all #merry christmas #thanks for a great end to a year

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alyjojo · 2 years ago

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May 😽 2023 Monthly - Aries

Whole of your energy: 9 Pentacles

You’re focused on yourself, your financial stability and what is going to bring maximum returns in your life. There is an ending attached to this, one you’re perfectly fine with. Some of you are separating from a person, possibly an earth sign. I get no lover kind of energy with that, but could be. For the majority, this is regarding a job you’re sick and tired of waiting around on to get on your level. Or for your level to rise in the way you’re expecting.

What’s going on in May:

9 Wands rev:

I don’t like this card being here. You’re recognizing that this job isn’t giving you what you want, maybe you’re disappointed about a promotion or recognition that hasn’t come, if you’ve been hoping for that. 9 Wands upright is perseverance, seeing a difficult situation through to the end - 10 Wands, where something that’s been a heavy burden is finally over with. Being reversed, this is giving up right before the finish line, which indicates that holding on could be something that is more beneficial for you. Going forward, you want to give up, and are ready to give up, but you don’t…yet.

The Hanged Man:

You’re paused due to indecision, which I’m getting is a good thing, this isn’t something you want to rush. Your meditation was a horse 🐎 race, with a mascot (you) that looked like French Fries 🍟, dancing and acting kinda crazy. I needed “exclusive access” to get to you…but you were a mascot, and resented that. Hopefully you get something from it, I’m lost at all the meditation meanings this month. All I get is this situation is a gamble for you, which could go either way so be careful of that. You don’t know if this situation can get better, or if you can find something better, but you’re losing hope for this place, person, thing, etc.

King of Pentacles:

Could be a partner, but I don’t really get that. Not as the main story anyway. More like a boss, a particular co-worker, the entire management of your business. Something like that. They’re an asshole, either they don’t communicate anything to you and provide clarity at all, or they rush in with a lot of harsh criticism and are unnecessarily aggressive & rude even. You keep hoping this situation gets better. For some of you, being this King of Pentacles & a promotion was your dream, and when it didn’t come true it reaaally pissed you off. Wheel of Fortune does show things changing, and again 9 Wands rev at the beginning show you being close to some sort of ending, when you want to give up. Whether something is going to change here, or you’ll find something else, The Wheel is moving and riding this out is probably your best option right now.

Wheel of Fortune:

This row is you deciding to do exactly that. Playing it safe. You’re not clear enough on what’s possible for you, or what’s even out there that could be better. Page of Swords shows you researching some of these opportunities, you’re not just sitting on your laurels no, you don’t know so you’re going to find out 💯 You’re probably up to date on your resume, applying other places. I don’t see any of these working out in May, but I can’t tell if that’s because of them or because of you.

Knight of Cups rev:

This row feels more like advice, especially with Temperance, because “calming down” isn’t really your first response to things. You’re angry something hasn’t worked in your favor and want to retaliate by leaving. Knight of Cups rev shows you being unrealistic, dreaming, chasing a particular goal that may not be within reach for some reason. Your Oracle shows Change, Wheel of Fortune shows change, whatever this particular thing you’re chasing is, is probably what needs to change. This row shows you possibly missing out on opportunities that do exist because they don’t meet whatever your specific criteria for this is, and that criteria may be wrong, or not what you think it is. The Knight of Cups rev romanticizes things, sees them with rose colored glasses, he doesn’t see clearly. Have faith that you can’t miss anything that is FOR you. For whatever reason, these things aren’t. If you’re in the middle of a growth/karmic cycle with Wheel of Fortune, you may not yet be ready for the next thing. Your desires may change. The Sun shows you recently waking up to your disappointment in the first place, and the right thing is due to timing 🙏

888 could mean something for you. 8’s are the actions we take to benefit ourselves long-term and two of yours are reversed, showing you as not being ready to take action just yet. 999 could also mean something for you. Your financial stability depends on you flipping this 9 Wands upright, continuing on where you are (for now) and Stripping Illusions - shown by both your oracle and Knight of Cups rev.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Pisces, Scorpio, Libra, Sagittarius, Virgo & Gemini

Oracles: ✨

50 Sacred Space

Use beautiful art, music, and creativity of all kinds to put you into a sacred space.

43 Change

For a change, do something you usually do a certain way in a different way.

27 Stripping Illusions 🪷

The lotus flower is a funny plant. It flourishes in the muck and mud. Apparently, in spite of the muck of its birth, beautiful petals open up, layer after layer, revealing more and more of its inner beauty. You are being called to strip away illusion after illusion from your life! You are being asked to enable your true essence to shine through! Allow layer after layer of false beliefs, cluttered thinking, unfulfilling relationships, chaotic environments, to go by the wayside to reveal the perfect essence of your core self. This process is challenging at best. We tend to hold on to the illusions we have created, thinking they keep us safe. All they really do is blind is to our true beauty and potential. This card is calling to you to look your truth in the face and not let illusions cloud your view of the true beauty of yourself and others.

33 Integration 🧬

We are a sum of all of our experiences in this and other lives. We all bring forward a wealth of knowledge, talents, and wisdom. One of the challenges is remembering who we are. We are bombarded every day in every way with messages on who we should be, what we should do, what we should wear, how we should live…

These messages coming from the media, society, our family and friends, and even strangers can drown out who we are really meant to be: who we have grown into lifetime after lifetime. Find some quiet moments in your day to identify and start a relationship with that small, strong voice inside of you. Pretty soon you won’t hear the other messages. Many times in your interactions with others, you hear that small voice tell you something is not right. Your logical mind tells you stop it, nothing is wrong, you’re being silly/dramatic or overreacting. You may ignore your inner voice in a quest to fit in, be loved or admired. You do not realize that your inner voice is warning you that the other person’s energy is not matching their words or actions. Listen to your instincts about this situation or person.

We enter into May as:

Black and White 🖤🤍:

“Together we are stronger than alone.”

If Black & White calls you, then it represents a time of creating union out of that which seemingly should not work. It is changing old ways of thinking. Are you bold enough to take a risk? Do you dare to have the life the way you desire? Are you willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to have that desire? You may not be able to predict the outcome, but you can change it. State your opinion & step forward, the time is now. This could also indicate a brave undertaking of yours, the joining of two powerful forces for a higher good. A new trail lies ahead! Choose love 🤍

What is to be learned in May:

Blue November 🕊

“ A window is opened as a door gently closes.”

The passing of things in our lives is inevitable. Jobs, people, friendships, or relationships. This card is a message that whatever is going on requires a release on your part. There is no healthy escape from your own feelings. This card is a reminder that what is taken away is replaced with something else, in some form, eventually. You may not even be aware of the loss, but others around you are feeling it, in some cases. This could represent some unexpected news. You must be grateful for what you have. A coming celebration will pull you through whatever is coming. Do not be afraid that you are avoiding your feelings by celebrating. Your feelings will surface, and resurface, when they’re supposed to. Whatever is pending that you must face will not be as frightening as it is in your mind.

Blue may be a lucky color 💙

#aries tarot reading #monthly reading #may 2023 #Aries #tarot #free reading #tarotblr #astroblr

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harper-collins · 2 years ago

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7 years later... - Billdip Oneshot

Pairing: Bill Cipher x Dipper Pines

Warnings: Usage of guns, mention of drugs and mention/someone being called a prostitute - MATURE, If you don't like these topics please don't read!

Hiya! This is a continuation (in a way) of the idea that I had and the last oneshot that I made regarding that idea. It has both Bill and Dipper now adults and in the Mafia business.

If this isn't something people really enjoy, then I probably won't continue it, but this is where the majority of the story would take place (after this oneshot) if this were to become a fully-fledged story on AO3!

Enjoy!

It was another typical day with a lot to do for the blonde, and he was just getting started. He had quite a few ‘scheduled’ appointments today due to him wanting to check every single person under his new leadership now he’d taken control of his old boss's company, which had also meant going through each finance and seeing exactly who was in the ‘family’.

Although Bill himself had known quite a few people, especially the others that visited often, he never knew just how many people were connected to his boss, and after getting a light shock, he decided to see each and every person to see if one of them would be perfect as a personal bodyguard for himself.

His boss had bodyguards that he’d had before, and were given down to him… But Bill wanted one to himself that he trusted, due to the fact he’d managed to get past those same bodyguards and murdered his boss just over two weeks ago. Now, he had someone specifically that had interested him deeply.

Once he’d seen the name he knew that he wanted to meet him again. It had been about seven years since their last meeting, and the man he was waiting for this morning didn’t live in Gravity Falls, he was a part of the extended family that was specifically in California and had a blood relative living in Gravity Falls.

Whatever his legal name used to be, it wasn’t in the books, but that didn’t matter to Bill. He knew that this man was careful with any of his personal information from the moment he came into the business at the young age of twelve. Bill had been there when he had first met his old boss, and through the years the brunette and his boss had kept communication.

Bill had noticed that the male had been given finances from the male he was waiting for this morning and got them on a bi-weekly basis. It wasn’t listed exactly what those sales were or where the money was appearing from, but knowing that the brunette had a business that actively gave Bill money almost inspired him to speak to him.

That had been that. Bill had told his assistant to go and call the brunette (using the right equipment of course) and tell the male to come for today, at 10 AM. Must've been a bit of a shock to the brunette that he had been given a call at all because no one had been told that Bill had come to power officially. He had known it was trickled down the spine of the family, some coming up to him to actively support or congratulate him, or even kill him. Although, Bill was unsure whether this news had gotten to the brunette.

As ‘The Triangle’ was wondering about this exact topic, a voice took him out of his train of thought. “He has arrived Boss, do you want me to bring him through?” Py asked with an edge to her voice. Bill turned his seat around to look at his bodyguard and nodded. “Bring him through,” He replied and stood up, awaiting the brunette.

Bill lit up a cigarette and put it in his mouth, taking in the smoke to his lungs as he awaited the brunette. It didn’t take long for him to appear, and the moment Bill saw the light hit his face, he was certainly glad he’d called.

Dipper, or rather as many called him, Double Dipper, was a short, brown-haired individual. His hair was put in a fairly specific manner, it was obvious to Bill that he’d used wax for this particular occasion to keep his hair in place, and had the clearest skin that Bill had ever seen for a face. No scars in sight, and everything was intact. He had a chiselled look and the only thing slightly obscured out of view was his forehead, where Bill was aware of the birthmark being hidden behind the bushy hair.

He wore a suit, although it was noticeable to Bill that he didn’t like it, his shoulders were almost hidden from view which almost made him think that the brunette wasn't confident enough to meet him. It was the puffed chest that gave the confidence that the brunette needed to keep Bill interested though as the male looked him up and down.

“Pinetree,” Bill breathed. If it were any other situation, any other business, Bill was sure he’d run up to the brunette and hug him. This wasn’t a soft business, and that sort of attitude wasn’t welcome in these parts. Dipper nodded a little, keeping a calm and collected look covered across him. Bill got the faint smell of pines coming off Dipper.

“Mr Cipher, or would you prefer I call you ‘The Triangle?” Dipper asked, trying his best to stay formal, and not have anyone pointing guns at him. That wasn’t the purpose of this visit. He thought he’d been called in by the boss, not the man who had teased him every moment he’d been in Gravity Falls working under the boss.

Bill inhaled his cigarette again before taking it out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into the room. “Bill or Triangle is fine, you’re a friend, and I don’t want to be too formal with you,” Bill told him, eyeing the brunette up as he spoke. The more Bill spoke the more Dipper realised that the only person he was going to be talking to from now on was Bill.

“I’ve been going through our finances recently, and I noticed that your name and contact details were written down with a significant amount of money being given to me… I was wondering, where is it coming from?” Bill asked curiously. In all honesty, Bill didn’t care, he wasn’t that interested in figuring out what the brunette did that gave him the money, usually, all people cared about was that the money was given.

Bill had other motivations for asking this question though, it allowed Bill to understand the brunette more, and more importantly, he could keep him here for longer. “Narcotics mainly, but guns are also something that I tend to sell,” Dipper summarised, he wasn’t going to splurge his operation easily, and neither was Bill expecting him to give it. This information was probably the best Bill could be able to get out of the brunette without any fuss.

Bill hummed as he put out his cigarette in the dish next to him. “I was thinking Pinetree… Maybe you could come on another day for us to discuss things further,” Bill grinned and took a step forward to Dipper. His respective bodyguards inched closer, but neither of the men really noticed. Bill was feasting his eyes on the confusion that was evident across the brunette’s face.

“Not to be out of line, but why would we need another meeting if all we needed to speak about was finances?” Dipper asked, putting a hand on his hip. Bill clicked his tongue watching the movement and took a step back and sat down. “Pinetree you interest me so much… I’ve decided to offer you a position you might not be able to refuse… You just need to prove yourself,” Bill responded, giving him a ‘bored’ look, mainly for the show.

It gave the impression that the blonde had given this offer to other people, and as Bill wanted, it encouraged the brunette to get competitive. Of course, Dipper was the first one and probably the only one that Bill was actually offering for the job, but the more that the brunette was ready to put up a fight, the better his results would be. If he wasn’t easily breakable under the pressure of course, but he would be practically useless if that were to happen.

“My assistant will contact you on the day to come here when we’re ready for you, but for now, prepare,” Bill continued, watching as the cogs working in the brunette’s mind. He nodded a little. “Thank you for your time and offer,” He simply responded and Py took lead in leading them out of the room. Bill grinned, watching them both leave. This was going to be fun.

As Pyronica was leading Dipper out of the building, out of the twists and turns of the building, they had to cross a room he had originally gone through to get here without Pyronica, but this time it had become a little crowded. He played it cool going through until he looked up and heard something…

“...you see that guy? Seeing The Triangle? He’s too cute to be in this business or a killer for that matter…” He heard from across the room. Dipper looked over to the man who had been talking, who wasn’t facing him. Probably one of his biggest mistakes. “...probably just a prostitute,” He heard the man continue, and that’s what cost him.

In a flurry, Dipper put his hand on his Pistol, took the safety off and took it out of its holster. The brunette pointed the gun at the man’s leg, close to where it’d really hurt, and shot. The man wasn’t expecting it, no one was. A loud sound went through the room that silenced everyone, apart from the one who was shot. It was perfect and had gone right through the side of his leg, and almost out the other side.

He screamed and fell off the bar stool he had been sitting on whilst everyone else stood still, looking at Dipper. After a few seconds of watching the man’s pain, he put the safety back on, and slowly put his gun back in its holster. Once Pyronica had seen he was done, she grinned to herself and continued to show the brunette the way out, knowing that their boss would be happy to know.

He hadn’t shot to kill, but he’d shot to suffer. Something that she thought Bill would appreciate.

#gravity falls au #billdip #writing #bill cipher #dipper pines

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justinspoliticalcorner · 15 days ago

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Stephen Starr at The Guardian:

While many appearing on stage during president-elect Donald Trump’s victory speech in the early hours of 6 November were familiar faces, one man, standing next to Tiffany Trump, was not. Michael Boulos, the son of Lebanese billionaire and Trump’s new senior adviser on Middle Eastern affairs, Massad Boulos, and the husband of Trump’s youngest daughter, stood cautiously to the president-elect’s right as America looked on. While Boulos’ presence – part of Trump’s successful coalition-building effort – may have gone largely unnoticed by many viewers, for Arab Americans such as Yahya Basha, a Syrian American doctor who runs several medical facilities in Detroit, it served as a breakthrough moment.

In September, Basha met Trump and Boulos during one of the president-elect’s many campaign trips to Michigan. “I felt that they were serious and wanted to do business and communicate and partner on the issues,” says Basha of his engagement with Trump and Boulos. “If you are out, you don’t count. You have to stay in the battle.” Twenty years after the spike in animosity and prejudice in the aftermath of 9/11, Arab Americans are now finding themselves incorporated into US politics like never before and – ironically given his nationalism – the process is getting a boost from Trump. On 22 November, Trump nominated Janette Nesheiwat, the daughter of Jordanian Christian immigrants and a Fox News contributor, to the post of US surgeon general, and Marty Makary, a British American doctor with Lebanese heritage who also contributes to Fox News, to commissioner of the US Food and Drug Administration. Alina Habba, Trump’s Iraqi American lawyer and adviser, is another prominent face in Trump’s entourage. During his previous administration Mark Esper and Alex Azar, both who have Lebanese heritage, served in senior positions.

Many Arab Americans, particularly older generations who fled dictatorships in the Middle East, feel this is the first time that such prominent voices have been heard in a political context – despite Trump’s threats and a track record that has seen him ban travel from a host of Muslim-majority countries during his previous administration.

While many Arab Americans say they are forced to look past Trump’s previous actions given the failure of the Biden administration to stop Israel’s wars in Gaza and Lebanon, others believe the president-elect’s overtures to figures in their community is genuine. While the Democrats declined to allow a Palestinian American speaker at their August convention, a month earlier, at the Republican’s equivalent event, Habba was strategically given a place in the coveted Thursday night session, where she spoke of being a “proud first-generation Arab American woman”. Part of Trump’s outreach to Arab Americans has focused on connecting with Christian elements within the wider community, rather than Muslim ones.

Boulos, Habba, Azar and Esper are either Maronite, Chaldean or Greek Orthodox Christians. “[The Arab American and Chaldean communities] needed one of their own – someone that is of their own and is in politics,” says Casey Askar, a Chaldean businessman who was recruited by Trump as far back as July 2023 to engage with Chaldeans in Michigan. Askar believes 80% of the Chaldean voters in Michigan – many of whom don’t identify as ethnically Arab but celebrate their own distinct heritage within the Arab world – backed Trump in last month’s election.

“Because Chaldeans didn’t come from a democratic world or have opportunities for democracy or freedom of speech, they didn’t engage in politics,” he says. “But in 2016, Chaldeans really came out to vote. And they generally voted for Trump and Republican candidates.” He says that since a majority of Chaldean households in south-east Michigan, where the community is thought to number almost 200,000 people, own or run their own businesses, there’s an attraction to Trump and the Republicans. After a fall off in 2020, he says the Chaldean vote helped Trump win Michigan last month, where he beat Kamala Harris by 80,000 votes.

“Historically, the Democratic party was the party of immigrants and minorities. I know that because when my family came, I believe they were more Democrat-leaning. If you look at the Catholic vote as a whole, it was predominantly Democrat,” he says. “But the party has changed. There’s so much hypocrisy. They pushed too far with wokeness, and that alienated a lot of people.” It’s a view shared by Basha, who is not Christian and who donated to Democrats’ election campaigns including Joe Biden, the governor of Michigan, Gretchen Whitmer, and others running against Israel lobby-backed candidates. “I had an excellent relationship with [Democrats]; I went to the White House many times,” he says. But last year, he says he felt slighted during a call with Michigan donors hosted by the Senate majority leader, Chuck Schumer.

“I wasn’t allowed to speak during the call. I raised my hand but wasn’t given the floor to speak when others were,” he says. “The Democrats became so complacent. I think the Arab-Americans were treated in the Democratic party as insignificant partners, from the Obama administration onward.” Though he donated thousands of dollars to Trump’s first opponent, Hillary Clinton, in 2016, he says that this time around when Harris’ campaign approached him for a donation, he refused. “I told them: I’m committed to Trump.” Trump’s efforts to build a coalition from within elements of the Arab American community has in part prompted many to run – and win as Republicans – at various political levels across the US.

Arab Americans, both Christian and Muslim, became key voices in shaping US politics in the Trump era.

Christian Arab Americans tended to be largely Republican, while Muslim ones tended to be largely Democratic, though things are beginning to change regarding the latter.

#Arab Americans #Donald Trump #Alina Habba #Michael Boulos #Massad Boulos #Dr. Janette Nesheiwat #Dr. Marty Makary #Abe Hamadeh #Alex Azar #Mark Esper

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yousaydisco · 2 months ago

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NOT A DISCO FIC AT ALL (cleaning out the drafts 2)

7 months ago before I got into DE at all, I started writing a marvel fic and didn't finish that either.

Stucky, 5k words, pre-serum Steve, Modern AU

After spending hours applying to even the most demeaning, soul-breaking, bad-paying jobs he could find, Steve sits there refreshing his email. Nothing. Hit refresh. Nothing. Worry about rent. Regret college major. Hit refresh. Nothing.

A red (1) suddenly appeared. He made sure to not get his hopes up before clicking.

But he’s only human. As he read the email his mind wandered, hovering over numerous possibilities. His pulse quickened in excitement. He looked over his closet of an apartment. Glazed over the water damage on the ceiling, the pipes that rattle if he uses water, the stove with one working burner.

Fuck it, he thought. And accepted the offer.

—------

“Welcome, Campers!” An unnaturally perky boy greeted them once they walked from the parking lot to the camp’s entrance. He was wearing cargo shorts, a yellow T-shirt brandishing the camp’s logo and name, and holding a clipboard like a professional. His sandy blonde hair was cut short.

“We’re not the campers.” The girl standing next to Steve said, her voice dripping in malice. He glanced over and saw bright red hair and dark-as-sin eyeliner. When their eyes met she smirked and he looked back.

“I’m just practicing.” The perkiness dropped and now it was all business. “Now: I’m head counselor Coulson. We only have one week before the campers actually get here. As prospective counselors, you’re in charge of setting everything up. Line up and I’ll assign you your cabin and working area.”

Like ducklings, the adults lined up single file and started moving toward the mother duck. Or, er, the one in charge. Steve felt a tap on his shoulder.

“What are you in for?” The red-haired girl asked with a smirk. Was she always chewing gum or did she start after Coulson started talking?

“The money.” He said, partially confused.

She nodded. Shrugged. Of course, yeah, the money.

“Are you here for another reason?”

“Court-ordered community service.” She said. Steve did not know her enough to tell if her smirk signified it was sarcasm or if it was true and she was going ‘what are ya gonna do?’.

Maybe we should back up a bit.

Camp Pinely has been a source of joy and summer fun for generations of children and that includes Steve way back in 1996. He went for several years and it was so much more than just a place where he was childish and free, it was the first time he felt like he wasn’t being held back by his health and body. It was a place that, even a decade later, he always thought back to. And in his worst moments, he fantasized about reliving those moments, yearning for the easy childhood and sick of the tedious adult life.

The email that was sent to him was clearly not official. It was professionally written, but unlike a lot of companies who are reaching out for employment, it was obvious that this wasn’t written by some bot or a copy-and-pasted format. It was sent by someone whose name he didn’t recognize, a Nick F., but they recalled some very specific moments of Steve attending the camp. Said he heard it from the previous camp director, Erskine. Steve remembers him - a gentle man with a German accent that only got stern when a big prank went very wrong, only then did he raise his voice. Not even out of anger but strictly out of worry. A practical and easy-going guy. Sucks that he isn’t around anymore.

The email went on to say that with the change of overhead, as the new camp director, he specifically wants a batch of counselors that already have an attachment of the camp. Said something about there being a special factor in a counselor who was previously a camper.

He also said something about there being a weekly stipend, a place to live for the summer, free food, and if it goes well a repeat job for next summer.

When Steve got close to Coulson it felt like he was struck by a bolt of lightning. “Oh, hey! Phil, right?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He said. It was clipped, business-like, but not necessarily cold or closed off. “Rogers. . . you’re in Staff Cabin 2, and you’re in charge of the arts and crafts station.” He handed Steve a camp T-shirt in X-Small, a map of the campsite, and a first-aid kit.

“Weren’t you a camper here in the 90s?” He knew he was holding up the line now so he tried to make it quick. “I’m pretty sure we

Phil looked up from the clipboard and a spark of recognition flares in his eyes. “Oh yeah, Rogers!” He looks like he has something to say but then he looks behind him and he must see the scary redhead smirking again and he looks back. “We’ll catch up later, alright?”

Steve nods and starts walking to Staff Cabin 2. He wasn’t the first one to get checked in but apparently, he was the first one to get assigned to this cabin since no one else was there. It was remarkably a lot like the cabins that he stayed in as a kid, except they seem to have decided that counselors are too old for bunk beds. As soon as you walk in there’s the living/sleeping space with several cots pushed against the walls. On the left wall is the gigantic walk-in closet that they are expected to share (no hangers provided, though). Inside is a floor-length mirror. If you keep walking straight as you enter the cabin you’ll find yourself in the attached bathrooms. Two toilets, two sinks, and two showers closed off with curtains. There are six beds in here, but if he ends up rooming with a bunch of shower hogs he could sneak off to a different staff cabin, probably.

Steve changes into the camp T-shirt. It is a very pale, sunflower yellow, with a forest of green pine trees in the center along with the camp name. It’s clearly a brand new shirt but the design would have you think it’s been through the wash several times. Designed imperfections. It was the perfect size for him, still a little roomy, even. When he examined his pale complexion in the mirror he was comforted by the knowledge that he has the opportunity this summer to gain a natural tan. Not look so. . . ghostly.

“Everyone hold on to your undies I am - “ A voice blasted from the living area of the cabin. “The first one here. Awesome.”

Steve popped out from the closet. “Sorry to bust your bubble.”

The guy that just arrived looked to be younger than Steve - maybe 20, 21 or so. He had a naturally stern face that was canceled out by his jovial, energetic body and facial language. He was only slightly taller than Steve, who stood at 5’5”.

“Another short king!” He exclaimed and bounded his way towards Steve. “Changing in the closet when you’re already alone? Jeez, I thought I had body issues. I’m Tony.”

Steve gets the impression that this guy often comes off as prickly and inappropriate when he introduces himself, but there is a natural openness that leaves Steve feeling that he’s just trying his best. “Steve.” He held out his hand to greet him, mostly out of habit. His mom may have raised him a bit old-fashioned, but it’s never bad to be polite.

“Nice to meet ya, Steve.” Tony looked at his outstretched hand like it confused him, and Steve almost pulled it back but Tony grabbed it. Except not in the traditional way, he pulled it closer to his chest and did a figuration that was attempting to be cool, hip, and trendy. Steve tried his best to follow. After that, Tony tossed his duffel bag on one of the beds with too much force before plopping his entire body on that bed with it, causing the metal bars to squeak and briefly lift off the ground. “I got a question for you, Steve. Are you perhaps part vampire? Or an avid fan of the Twilight series? I’m not judging but I want to know if you’re going to try and get some of this sweet, sweet blood while I’m dreaming of honeybunnies.”

“Honeybunnies?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“You know, girls.” He stretches out on the twin bed, getting. You would think by looking at him that it was 10 at night, not right before lunch. “I’m not secretly some internet furry. Not that kind of degenerate. Unless you are, then it's not degenerate at all.”

Steve nodded, even though nothing was made any clearer. In fact he was left even more confused. “I think bunking with you will be very interesting.”

It wasn’t long before more boys filed into the cabin and started picking their cots. Steve made sure to pick one near Tony, partly because he thought it would be more interesting and partly because he was sure that Tony could accidentally and seriously upset someone else, and this way it will preemptively smooth over some bumps.

He quickly figures out that this cabin is for the second half of the alphabet - Tony’s last name turns out to be Stark. And all boys, so it must be split so there’s two staff cabins for the boys and two for the girls.

As more and more come in to claim cots, talk to each other, start changing out there in the open, Steve starts to feel like he’s drowning in the testosterone. Maybe coming here was a mistake. He didn’t consider at all that he will have to be closeted the entire summer, surrounded by several athletic men around his age. Doing physical activities, sleeping in tight quarters, and there’s a lake so he has to think of many excuses to not be caught there swimming. He tries to relax - things are better than when he was a child - and he goes outside for a fresh breath of air.

He sits on the steps and looks out to the cabin directly ahead, labeled Staff Cabin One. Immediately his plan to catch his breath fails because in the doorway stood someone he hadn’t seen in a decade. Since the last year he ever attended the camp.

To make it worse, he grew up so well. He’s practically an adonis now, except with brown hair. But he is lean, well-fit, with his hair in a stylish quiff that fell just above his eyes. From his memory Steve recalled the color perfectly - chocolate brown, with specks even darker sprinkled throughout. He was wearing jeans slightly too tight so it showed off his figure, with his shirt tucked in to further enhance the shape of his waist.

Steve didn’t mean to openly ogle him for so long. Eventually, Bucky turned to catch his eye. He froze, immediately recognizing Steve. He was mid-laugh, but now his face was dropped and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

Well, shit. He has been caught. If he gets up and walks somewhere, or goes back inside, it would be obvious that he was staring obsessively. Panicking, he let his eyes slide to the other people around. Staying casual.

Eventually, Bucky turns back around and Steve takes this as his opportunity to go to the mess hall.

—------

It’s summer, 1998. Steve is fifteen years old. This is his third year in a row attending Camp Pinely. He didn’t know it at the time, but it was his final year.

There was one week left of the summer. He had had a blast - he went canoeing, beat his record of eating 7 smores before getting sick, and made a ton of new friends. One friend in particular he was very happy to have made.

One friend in particular he was alone with inside the boathouse, near the lake shore. Children were not supposed to be in there, only adults, because there were tools and fishnets and it had a weird smell. But it was the only place for privacy and what they were doing needed to be done in private.

They were kissing. Steve’s first-ever kiss, and probably Bucky’s too but he never got a confirmation on it. He had had a crush on him all summer, and now they were there! Steve hadn’t even set this up - as if he would have had the guts to - Bucky slipped him a note during lunch to meet him inside. It all felt so romantic.

There was laughter outside. Steve didn’t pay it any mind because there were kids playing in the lake, with the watch of a few counselors to make sure they didn’t drown. He should have paid it some mind. The laughter got steadily closer to the shack until suddenly they were bathed in sunlight.

Before Steve could register they had been walked in on, Bucky shoved him as forcibly as he could. There was a split second where their eyes met and Bucky looked terrified before he turned to what turned out to be his friends and started making exaggerated gagging sounds. “He tricked me! Before I realized what was happening he closed the door and pounced on me!” Then he repeated a word that Steve would rather not recall.

They were all laughing at him. He tried to run free but they were closing him off, surrounding him. Treating him like a disgusting animal that had to be trained to know better. Before it got too bad - as in, violent and genuinely unsafe which sadly happens a lot of the time - one of the adult counselors finally noticed and yelled to break it up. Steve used that opportunity to break free and run away.

He didn’t have a planned destination, but he was crying. And running. And with his poor health and terrible lungs, he quickly had trouble breathing. He made it to the nurse’s station in time and Nurse Helen was there to help him.

This is also one of the few places on the campsite that had a phone they could use to call home. Sarah Rogers got a particularly distressing call from her weeping, hysterical son and raced there. Within two hours Steve was home early, planning to never return.

How did he forget? He must have blocked it off with true efficiency. It was hidden so well in the library of his mind that it didn’t even register as there.

What are the chances that he could avoid Bucky for the entire summer? It’s not like they’re campers anymore, they’re here to work. He remembers the arts and crafts section as only needing one, maybe two counselors at the most. If he put his head down and did his job then maybe he could put the past behind him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” a scratchy voice broke him out of his thoughts. Only now did he fully realize that he was sitting at a table in the mess hall, stabbing some tater tot casserole in front of him. He must have been on autopilot for the last ten minutes.

In front of him is the intimidating red-headed girl looking at him with a quirked eyebrow. And her smirk.

“Sorry,” who knows how long she was sitting there with a dinner partner not even registering he was on the same planet.

She shrugged like it made no difference to her that he wasn’t talking. Steve finally took a bite out of his lunch. Any sort of crunch it was supposed to have has been effectively destroyed by Steve’s mashing of it with a fork, but it is still cheesy and potato-y so it’s all good.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Steve asked, diverting away from her question.

“Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Natasha.” He doesn’t try to shake hands. “I’m Steve.”

They start talking. She doesn’t get any less intimidating but Steve does start to get comfortable around her, weirdly enough. They eventually start to talk about their assigned workstations. Steve learned that Natasha is his partner for the arts and crafts station.

“Do you have a background in the arts?” He was directly told in the email that he was offered this position due to his degree in graphic design.

“In a way.” She says. He has learned that Natasha is the type of person who eats her food completely in segments. Main portion first, vegetables next, then fruit, then her sweet treat at the end. Taking small sips throughout so that she finishes it with her last bite. “I got caught tagging in a public place, this is my court-ordered community service.”

Steve nods. “Alright.”

At the end of the meal he finally got to put a face and voice to Nick F., since he took the front of the room and started an announcement. He was an older man, the only actual grown adult in a sea of young adults trying to find their place in society, completely bald and an aura of Military Bred Sterness.

“Thank you all for coming.” His voice is booming and deep. He did not have to do a fake cough or ask for anyone’s attention. As soon as he starts talking everyone quiets down and turns their heads. “I am Nick Fury, you may recognize me as the one who offered you the job not that long ago. This summer is a unique opportunity for us all, as it is my first year as the camp administrator and you alls first year as counselors. If you need anything, please report to my right-hand man Phil Coulson.” The professional man from earlier raised his hand and waved at everyone, smiling. “He will let me know if I need to be involved. There is a large amount of trust you all have been gifted. Do not let me down.” The vibe of the entire mess hall turned anxiously icy. Nick left without another word. Slowly but surely the chatter started to come back.

“Do you know that guy?” Natasha asked him.

“As well as anyone here does,” Steve said. He was confused about how he gave off the impression that he was particularly close to Fury.

“No, that guy.” Natasha pointed behind Steve’s left shoulder. He turned and saw that Bucky was staring holes into the back of his head with huge, sad puppy dog eyes. A spark of anger flared up inside him. Where does he get off to stare at him so sad? When he was directly the cause of one of the worst moments of Steve’s life? Second only to watching his mother wither away to illness as a stupid nineteen-year-old studying art and not something that could have helped him, like medicine.

He holds it in, however. Steve doesn’t so much as roll his eyes before turning back to Natasha. “I don’t think I do.” he was never a good liar and that is a statement he found easier to stand behind.

“He seems to know you.” Thankfully she saw something she found more interesting than picking at Steve’s drama so abruptly got up and left to talk to someone else. Sitting there alone felt like he was a sitting duck, or that there was something else he should be doing, so he tossed out his plate and left the mess hall as well.

Something he doesn’t get to know is that immediately after Natasha left, Bucky excused himself from his own table and started making his way over to him. If Steve had waited a few seconds more he would have been caught. But no, Steve had walked out of the mess hall leaving Bucky standing there, silently, slowly lowering his arm that he raised to tap Steve on the shoulder.

He might have enjoyed the feeling of schadenfreude. If he caught it.

Instead, Steve started walking around, slowly. Looking at everyone else milling around. People watch. Enjoy the environment.

The thing he noticed the most was just how empty this gigantic campsite felt with only a handful of the counselors. Maybe as they get to work it’ll feel more active, and definitely once the campers get here. But it’s a lot of blank space right now. He made his way back to his cabin.

On the steps of the cabin, sitting on the little porch area they were given, was Tony and another guy playing with a chemistry set. Where it came from, he couldn’t tell. But he could see a ton of white smoke from several yards away. Steve jogged to them.

“Are you making bombs?!” He gasped at them. Even though it was only a few yards he was already out of breath. He prays that a week is enough time to work up to anything better than appearing to be knocking on death’s door.

“Eddy!” Tony legitimately brightened up to see him.

“Who?!”

“You! Because you’re pale.” As if that explained anything. The other boy added something to the vial producing all the smoke and it turned from white to blue. Tony continued yapping. “Vampires are pale, and you’re a huge fan of Twilight it’s like the only thing I know about you. Someone in that movie is named Edward. Eddy is short for Edward, boom. That’s how a nickname is born.”

A lot was happening for Steve in this moment.

“Who are you?” Steve turns to the new guy.

“Bruce Banner.” In one hand he adjusts his glasses, the other he holds out to greet Steve. Finally, some good manners in this place. He takes is gladly.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve never actually seen Twilight.” He tells Bruce, who nods and shrugs. “What are you guys doing?”

Tony immediately launches into a monologue about science, chemical measurements, a bunch of words that Steve doesn’t process at all. The information he does gather: Bruce brought the chemistry set just because he’s that kind of guy, they both suffer a severe allergy to the outdoors that presents in a severe distaste of the smell (Steve may prefer the indoors slightly more than the average person but he doesn’t smell anything else but pine and dirt), and they were making something preferable to their sensitive proclivities.

By now they were gathering a crowd. Tony and Bruce looked at each other, smiled wickedly, and dropped the last component into their mixture and ran like Hell. Tony grabbed Steve’s arm to drag him to a safer distance right before their mixture exploded into a mini mushroom cloud and the whole area for miles smelled of vanilla and marshmallow fluff.

“I never should have doubted you.” Steve said to Tony, who grinned in pride. The two of them get cheers, whoops, and celebratory pats on the back from the people nearest to them.

“It’ll only last a couple of hours.” Bruce assures everyone.

The good vibes stay consistent until that night, the first campfire of the summer. It’s good for Steve to know that even the counselors take part in this tradition: having a campfire after the sun goes down, everyone having fire cooked food like hot dogs and smores. You’ll eat more smores at Camp Pinely than you’ll ever have in the rest of your life.

It’s great bonding. An opportunity to check-in. Memories are embedded in the traditions, traditions in the memories.

Steve sits on the same log as Tony and Bruce and somehow he finds himself in the middle. Tony talked enough that Steve rarely had to say anything, and Bruce almost never. Thankfully he’s a funny little guy, Steve found himself laughing quite often. On the log across from them, separated by the fire, sits Natasha, Phil, and another guy that Steve hasn’t met yet. He can assume that his last name appears earlier in the alphabet since he hadn’t seen him move into his cabin earlier.

He’s having a good time so it takes a while for him to notice Bucky is around him again. In fact, he doesn’t even notice until Bruce gets up to go to the bathroom and within seconds Bucky slides into his seat.

“That seat’s taken, buddy.” Tony said, thankfully, because Steve was flabbergasted into silence at the action. At the pure audacity of this guy.

“I’ll just be here for a minute.” Bucky said and shot Tony a charismatic, smoozing smile. A smile that Steve can bet gets him anything that he wants. Bucky turns back to Steve and drops the smile, instantly looking uncertain and anxious.

“Hey, I just - I’m James. I don’t know if you remember me.” He’s wiping his palms on his jeans.

‘Oh my god’ Steve thought. ‘He’s actually introducing himself to me?’ Maybe he was too good of an actor earlier, those times he didn’t meet his eyes must have really fooled him. Certainly, it would be easier for him if Steve admits he does remember, whatever plans Bucky has. He could make him squirm and say no, could see if doesn’t admit his past and sees it as wiping his hands free of it.

That’s not something his mom would want him to do.

“You go by ‘James’ now?” Steve questioned. He remembers little Bucky hating that name, wouldn’t even answer if you addressed him by it. If Steve didn’t recognize him by his looks then he absolutely wouldn’t have remembered him as ‘James’.

For a second he brightened up. Overjoyed that Steve remembered him. But then his face falters, he turns away, coughs. Being remembered for what he did is not a good thing.

“Could we talk? In private?”

There’s a lot of shit that Steve doesn’t want to do and that includes being alone with Bucky Barnes again. After what happened last time. It must have been written clearly on his face because Bucky tilts his head. “Please?” he is practically - no, Literally, begging.

By now Bruce has come back and he is standing there, silently. Wanting his seat back but not wanting to ask for it. Steve would like as few people as possible to be reminded of what happened back in ‘98.

“Fine.” Bucky sighs in relief and they both get up. Bruce gets his seat back.

Steve lets Bucky lead the way. Turns out to be back at the staff cabins. Bucky opens the door to walk in there but Steve planted his feet on the porch. “Here’s fine.”

Bucky relented and closed the door. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m not going to beat around the bush.” He’s wiping his hands on his jeans again. Were his hands always sopping wet or is he just nervous to the point of a literal panic attack right now?

Steve crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything. He gestures, get on with it.

“I think about that summer. A lot.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “And not just - not just what I did wrong. But all of it. It was a great summer. Before I fucked it up at the end. Not that hearing that is any help to you.”

“What happened to not beating around the bush?”

“You’re right. Fuck. I’m not good at this.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really fucking sorry.”

Steve nodded. “Is that it?” He made a move to leave. Bucky stepped in front of him, making a move to stop him, but not blocking off the exit. Steve could keep walking but he stops. He should hear him out, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

“I know it is too little too late. I know that I did something truly shitty. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’m fucking haunted by it, believe it or not.”

“Why not say something sooner?” Steve betrays himself to ask. He doesn’t even care that much about the answer but it was the first thing that came to his mind. And it exited his mouth almost immediately.

“I was scared. I couldn’t find you. I wanted to do it in person. I didn’t know how to say it. Take your pick.” He looked so sincerely and earnestly sad that, despite his best efforts, Steve melted a little bit. “The only reason I accepted the position here is on the off chance that you also got an offer. I swear to God.”

In the background, he saw the campfire being extinguished and everyone starting to stagger their way to bed. “I have to go.”

It was all he could manage to say.

Bucky didn’t try to stop him this time. Steve went to his cabin and straight to bed. He wished he could say he went to sleep, but his mind was racing with Recently Overturned Trauma and he was lucky if he got multiple hours of rest at all.

#so like i didnt a single word of anything in 2023 and this was my attempt to get back into fanfiction writing #i wasnt entirely inspired bc i didnt care for mavel anymore but i fell back on stucky as like. a reliable ship #and then DE was on sale for three dollars and it changed my entire life

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fite-club · 10 months ago

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genuine q, i don’t really have a stake in internet discourse so idk what’s going on. i saw the term “transandrophobia” for the first time today and saw you commenting so i scrolled through your blog. i saw you replied to an ask with ``their answer to “so which is it, are transmascs oppressed because we’re seen as men or seen as women?” is “whichever works best for my argument in that moment”`` which i’m kind of confused by. cause like i can see it varying on a case by case basis, if someone excludes a trans man from a queer space for passing too well then like i get that i don’t really think that’s oppression but just hurtful to be excluded from gay spaces. and if they’re perceived as a woman by someone else and experience misogyny like that happens too. i’m just confused on what the argument is, i’m not tryna be dismissive just trying to understand what’s like Going On with all the transandrophobia business. is it that people are claiming to be oppressed for being men is that the issue? just want some nuance cause i can’t grasp it from the random threads i keep finding

yeah parsing through “transandrophobia” discourse is hard because there’s not a consistently used definition or reasoning. the issue is, yeah, people claiming that they’re oppressed for being transmasc specifically (not not just for being trans). the fact that transmascs can be treated as men or women depending on the situation is proof in of itself that “transandrophobia” cannot exist, because the transphobia is motivated in different ways. we experience transphobia when we’re treated like women, and we experience misogyny when we’re treated lesser because of that. systems of oppression that target men like “androphobia” or “misandry” do not exist. the only people who actually hold bigoted views against men are radfems and TERFs*, who are not a majority capable of enacting any structural oppression against men. “anti-masculinity” is not a problem. a trans man might be excluded from a queer group for being “too masc”, but so would a transfem who doesn’t pass. every instance of discrimination against transmascs (besides specific details) is something also experienced by transfems or butch/gnc cis women. because the discrimination comes from misogyny and transphobia, not “transandrophobia”.

the reason why this matters at all is because it’s important to address transmisogyny in the trans community and “transandrophobia truthers” deny that transmascs have any kind of privilege over transfems. i speculate that the reason why terms like “transmisandry” or “transandrophobia�� exist in the first place is because transmascs didn’t like admitting that they’re TME (transmisogyny exempt). TME and TMA were terms used by the transfem community to denote the differences in transfem and transmasc experiences. because they ARE different— the defining factor being gender. men have privilege over women; trans men are men and trans women are women; trans men have power over trans women. transfems get called baeddels and transandrophobes just for pointing that out, but it’s the truth. it’s gross seeing other trans guys deny that and avoid taking any accountability whatsoever— we aren’t incapable of being transmisogynistic just because we’re also trans.

*if someone seems to seriously believe that most people hate men and think of them all as brutish predators, if someone is trying to explain how everyone else in the world distrusts men both cis and trans, if someone is saying they’re tired of hearing that transmascs don’t face any oppression at all… that someone has too many radfems and terfs in their life/social circles. these are FRINGE, extremist, reactionary beliefs and they DO NOT reflect the community as a whole. if someone feels like these opinions are the norm, it’s because it’s their norm, which they don’t realize is a bubble.

#transandrophobia

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tyonfs · 11 months ago

Note

monthly(ish) 🎀 update!

heyyy! it’s me. i haven’t done one of these in sooo long 😭 i figure i should start with what everyone is waiting on, arsal. truth be told i did not listen to anyone’s advice and im still hopelessly in love with him and it doesn’t help much that we’re both playing this back and forth hard to get game. truly it’s so like. draining to have him constantly on my mind. i think the problem is because when we were kids i liked him a little bit and now that all this dawned down on me it just became even worse because he truly is one of the first guys i’ve really really liked.

i’ve always had a bad track record with situationships and hookups and i never really really liked any guy i’ve ever talked to or been with but with arsal it’s so different. like even when i don’t talk to him something about him just makes me gravitate towards him. sigh it’s so hard being a girl 💔

speaking of guys randomly cameron called me one night after like 3 months of no contact and said he wanted me again and i told him i didn’t miss him and he called me a slut and said that’s why im incapable of love which is crazy because he is the first guy i admitted that fear to so good to know! he was drunk but it still made me feel a certain way.

back to less important things, currently im laying in bed in my hometown and it feels so surreal because it’s my last winter here and it’s just, hitting me. like ill actually have to leave this place i call home and it just sucks.

ENOUGH SAPPY THINGS! let’s go into more drama. basically i have a trio ish kinda thing with my main circle of friends, one is my best friend for ever i love that girl and the other is one of my guy friends and we absolutely hate him. he is such a man and it’s so disgusting how he talks about his ex. and he likes to act like he has a crush on both me and my friend it’s so weird.

kpop.. oh kpop. i’ve completely fell out of kpop once like school started again. i haven’t listen to any music or read a single fic since i fell out. i think it might be for good this time. but that does NOT mean ill ever stop sending in my updates, we are pen pals forever until somehow someone deletes my tumblr account and your account disappears.

god what else can i talk about. i turned 20 this year. so surreal truly. i blew out my candles and i think i stared at the cake in silence. i don’t even know whats happening to me at this point. i genuinely feel like im going through a (not mid) mid life crisis.

ANYWAYS. i know this isn’t like majority of my updates, everything is all over the place. and the vibes r off :( how are you doing alice? you mentioned you’re moving that’s exciting! is the place nice?? give me some updates girl i miss you!!

yours truly - 🎀

PLEASEEE 😭😭 i support you but also don't let him play you queen 😞🙏 i totally get the old flame reigniting type of crush tho it's so easy to fall back on the familiarity too :') i think also having a lot of good memories with someone makes it easier to keep thinking about those and looking forward to more 🤧

CAMERON??: 🙅‍♀️ NOOO also what the fuck?? what a dick :/ that is such a terrible thing to say intoxicated or not i absolutely HATEE when men just throw around derogatory words and put women down 😭 and i hope you told him off bestie, and if you didn't then i support going off on him whenever you want (or just ghosting for your mental health!!!) 🙏

it's always hard to leave home 🥹🥹 it feels so bittersweet cause you're excited about being on your own and living independently but it also feels like you're leaving behind the safety net :(( also GOD time to turn that trio into a duo cause why does he put down his ex and treat you guys like that?? :(

yes i love hearing from you so i'm glad we established the little pen pal communication 🥹🥹 but no i totally understand, i fall out a little too when life gets too busy :') but it's nice that kpop is something you can always come back to whenever you want (even if it feels like you're missing a lot of context since the industry is growing fast HAHAH)

the almost quarter life crisis is so real 🤧 i experience birthday sadness like every year even if i'm having a really good time <//3 it's just the fear of growing up and life changing as you take on more responsibilities, but you're not alone!! i hope that offers some comfort but we're all in the same boat struggling to feel like adults 💝💝

but yes the move is all done and the place is really nice !!! i've been meeting a lot of my neighbors and they're all very sweet and friendly, so it feels like a very supportive community 🥹 i've currently been deep in a reading phase so i've just been stalking goodreads like whenever i have free time 😭 i've also been talking to someone !! since like ?? november i think but omg my flight instincts are kicking in so bad i've been fighting the urge to ghost since december bc i'm so nervous ab this stuff 🏃‍♂️ like i'm just a girl omg....... but other than that i've been meeting up with friends and having a good time 🥰 OH and i Might go to coachella but we'll see because tickets are kinda..... ☹️ my wallet's gonna die and i wanna see svt this year sooo

currently my little project is this seungkwan harry potter fic that i started in december 🤧 but my goddd it's at 20k words and i'm barely a third of the way through <//3 but it's been fun to write!! so i hope i don't run out of fuel when i'm done HAHAH but i hope you've been doing well love !! 🫶🫶

#asks #🎀 anon

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lemonjoonah · 4 years ago

Text

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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newfoundstateof · 3 years ago

Text

the ace reporter | peter parker

while reporting on a local fire, spider-man sweeps you off of your feet. literally.

word count: 2k

warnings? mentions of vomit, cursing

a/n: unfortunately i am too busy and too not loyal to this concept to make this a thing. oneshots for the win lol

“Can I get a soundcheck?” Dylan, the audio mixer, asks you.

You nod, gripping the microphone with both hands.

“This is me. I am talking. This is me talking. This is me talking a little bit louder!”

Most reporters recite the alphabet, but you liked you have a bit of fun with it.

“Should I keep going?” Dylan gives you a hand motion, asking for more. “Okay. This is me continuing to talk. I’m sure you all want to know about my day. Well, this morning-”

“You’re good,” Dylan shouts.

You chuckle. “That gets them every time.”

Your crew flutters around you. In moments like these, you feel like you’re in the eye of a storm with assistants shouting to one another, the constant adjustment of equipment and wires, and not to mention the fire currently engulfing the apartment complex behind you.

Although you were a safe distance away, the heat still tickled at the back of your neck, beads of sweat running down the collar of your shirt. Bending down, you swept up your water bottle and took a swig.

Once you were in place, there wasn’t much for you to do until it was your turn to go live. The only thing you could do was drown out the sound of sirens and screams and collapsing infrastructure. You didn’t like to admit how hard your job was emotionally. It was one thing to report on traumatic events, but it was a completely other thing to actually go through one. You were lucky that you didn’t have to live through the majority of what you’ve reported. But, news stories like these always wore on your nerves.

“Two minutes until we’re live,” someone announces.

“How does the teleprompter look?” someone else asks.

“Looks good,” you reply.

“Can we get another soundcheck?” Dylan asks. “More trucks showed up.”

“Woah, is that Spider-Man?”

You turn around, the fire immediately blowing hot air into your face. On top of a nearby building, you spot the infamous red and blue latex suit.

“Can someone add Spider-Man to the script?” you ask, eyes still glued on him.

“Soundcheck?” Dylan presses.

You jerk around to face him. “This is me talking. How many more seconds until live?”

“Fifty seconds!”

“Are we good? Can we wrap this up?” you ask Dylan.

“Sorry, it’s hard with the crowd to get the levels right,” he replies.

You hear a burst of cheers. Spider-Man must’ve done something newsworthy.

“Let’s keep this story as updated as possible,” you say with a nod to the writer.

“Updating now,” she replies.

“Thirty seconds!”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture and fidget with your hair.

“Fifteen seconds!”

You check the teleprompter for your first line.

“In five… four…”

Your director counts down silently on her fingers. Three… two… one… She points at you, and you’re live.

“Yes, as Mr. Jameson said, this fire is believed to have been an electrical accident. A young woman reported a fire in the communal kitchen, but as you can see behind me, the fire has expanded rapidly,” you say. “Not long after first responders arrived on the scene, the city’s favorite man in blue… and red-”

God, that was so cheesy. Sometimes you hate what these people make you say on live television.

“-appeared in the skyline. Now, the cause of this fire sparks-”

Really? Was that supposed to be a fire pun while the building is crumbling down behind you?

“-an important dialogue about electrical safety and-”

Dylan yells your name. Your eyebrows scrunch together. He knows better than to talk when you’re on the air.

“As I was saying-”

“DUCK!” Dylan yells.

But it’s too late.

You feel a hard object make contact with your back and soon you’re in the air. Without thinking, you scream bloody murder and clutch onto whatever’s got you. When you look down, all of your crew is in awe, mouths wide open. The camera operator hesitates but swings the camera to follow you through the air.

“Jesus mother fu-”

“I know, I know, I know,” you hear a voice say. “I’m so sorry. I’m putting you down now.”

You turn your head to see Spider-Man. You shriek even louder than before.

“I’ve got you.” He holds you closer as proof. “Close your eyes if you’re scared of heights.”

You’ve never had to know if you were scared of heights before. At least, not heights this high. You were thirty stories in the air with nothing. No wires, no harness, no helmet. Taking Spider-Man’s advice, you closed your eyes and shoved your face into the crook of his neck for good measure.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah!” you force out. “I’m great.”

Hearing him grunt, you’re both launched higher in the air before falling steadily. He picks up your legs, holding you bridal style, so you don’t have to stick the landing with him. Your brain knows that you’re safe on land again, but your heart is still twisting around in your chest.

“You can… you can uh get down now,” Spider-Man says with a cough. “Unless you’re not feeling well.”

You nod, and he gently lets go of your legs so you can stand up on your own.

“My mic,” you blurt out.

“What?”

“I…” Looking down at your hands, you realize you must’ve dropped your microphone while in the air. “You made me lose my mic.”

You hoped your tone didn’t come across as accusatory. You suppose you’re just in so much shock that your stupid microphone is the only thing you can make conversation about.

“You’re lucky that it’s wireless,” you say with an awkward laugh. “Or my mixer, Dylan, would be up here with us too.”

You take a step closer to the edge of the roof but stumble when you feel a sharp pain at the front of your skull. Gripping your head, you think that you’re about to faceplant right in front of Spider-Man, but he’s by your side before you hit the ground. You lean into his chest and groan.

“Where are we…”

“About four blocks from the fire. Okay, look. Here’s our plan.” He wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m taking you to your apartment, and then I’m going back to help put out the fire.”

“Can’t you take me back to work?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I think what you need is some rest,” he chuckles. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if I gave you whiplash. Sorry about that by the way, I lost my rhythm while swinging. It was either tackle you or take you with me.”

“Totally cool,” you mumble. Yeah, whiplash is the most accurate term to describe what you’re feeling right now. “I live ten blocks away. By the park that has all the angry pigeons.”

He laughs. “I think I know where that is.”

----

You wish that Spider-Man would’ve helped you to the subway because, the second you crawl from your fire escape into your room, you’re tripping to the bathroom to throw up the last thing you ate. Six strawberry cake pops from work wasn’t a good idea in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, I really am,” Spider-Man says, rubbing your back.

You hadn’t expected him to come inside.

“Please do not be in here right now,” you whine, using all your strength to push him away which isn’t much.

Instead of leaving, he collects toilet paper from the roll and cleans your mouth. “I gave you whiplash and nausea, I can’t just leave,” he jokes.

“I thought you were supposed to stop bicycle thieves,” you sigh, flushing the toilet. “Not kidnap journalists and watch them spill their guts.”

“Is it really kidnapping if I brought you home?”

“Touche, man,” you say. And then you giggle. You think he smiles back, but with the mask, you can’t quite tell. ‘Shouldn’t you go back to the fire?”

“Right, yeah.” He runs out but pivots and turns back to you. “I should probably get you into your bed first.”

After peeling your body off of the cold bathroom floor, he sets you on the bed. He asks a few questions, and you answer them.

Yes, you’d love a glass of water and some ibuprofen.

Your pajamas are in the top, left drawer.

Yes, he can check the news to get an update on the fire. Your remote should be on the coffee table.

No, you’re not hungry, and he really didn’t have to offer to cook or buy you something.

While you change out of your work clothes, you hear Spider-Man turn on your tv and flip through the channels. You honestly couldn’t believe that when you woke up not even four hours ago, you imagined your day going as mundane as possible. But here you are. Wearing sweatpants and your favorite oversized t-shirt about to walk into your living room to ask Spider-Man if there’s anything else that he needs.

Stuffing your feet into slippers, you shuffle out of your room. You weren’t sure how you were expecting to find Spider-Man, but it certainly was not cross-legged with his mask rolled up half his face, popping an M&M into his mouth.

“Is the fire still going?” you ask, giving him a pointed look.

“Ah sorry, these were just out, and I haven’t had anything to eat all day,” he explains. “And no, it’s all put out. Now, your station is covering an annual flea market in the Bronx.”

You walk around the couch and sit next to him. “How do you know I work for The Daily Bugle?”

He stiffens. “I recognize you! You’re like my favorite news anchor.”

“Mhm.”

Cable news is, unfortunately, a dying medium. Spider-Man seems to be in the demographic that preferred Twitter news, so you wonder if he's lying. You try and read his face, but he pulls down the rest of his mask. It’s a shame because his jaw and his lips… you’re not going to finish that thought.

“I thought I told you to get some rest,” he says, changing the topic.

You shrug. “I feel better. You’re… good to go now.”

“You sure?”

Nodding, you grab some M&Ms for yourself from a bowl on the coffee table. “Yeah, I’ll just call a friend and ask them to come and help me. I also don’t need you eating all my snacks.”

He chuckles. “I won’t overstay my welcome.”

When he gets up from the cough, you follow him to the window. He slips through and crouches on your fire escape to face you.

“I’m really sorry, again,” he starts. “If you need anything… I guess leave a bowl of M&Ms out here, and I’ll come.”

“It’s okay, really,” you say with a smile. “You made my day a lot more interesting.”

“Yeah, but I still made you puke.”

“I think my choice of breakfast did not help the situation.”

You both pause. How could you say goodbye when you’ve just met? Just as you’re about to jokingly say “see you later,” he interrupts you.

“Feel better soon.”

You’re positive he’s smiling under the mask when he says your name in a tenderness that almost gives you butterflies. Almost.

“Thanks,” you say.

And he’s gone.

----

“Hey, thanks for coming so soon.”

You’re letting your best friend into your apartment thirty minutes after your encounter with Spider-Man.

Shrugging off his backpack, he replies, “It’s no problem. Jameson didn’t even call me into work today. And after seeing what happened on the news, I knew you’d be calling me soon.

“Yeah…” you say with an awkward laugh. “I met your best friend today.”

“Were you jealous?” he teases. “I know you get mad that you’ve been replaced.”

“Nah, I just told him to back off.” You walk up to him and poke your finger into his chest. “I’m Peter Parker’s only best friend.”

----

a/n: does this fic have a purpose? did it need to be written? hell no! but for some reason i had an itching to write this. here’s to you, dear reader. if you found this enjoyable in any way, i’m glad. i liked writing it (:

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