#but anyone who's ever opened nextdoor

[toloveviceforitself]

Assuming for a second that this is a real person and not an ad for those security devices (silly assumption I know)...

I'm also kindof captivated by how much this sucks at what it sets out to do. Your security is only as strong as the least secure entry point, right? If you live in a castle and you reinforce your north wall until it's three times as strong as the other walls, all you're doing is making sure that any invader with half a brain will come from the south.

This woman is reinforcing the locks and setting all kinds of alarms on her doors... and her windows are literally right there. All of that door hardware is just making sure that any home invader will come through one of the many windows. This is exactly why homes that are in "high crime" areas and which are (rightly or wrongly) sincerely afraid of break-ins put BARS on their windows. Because all the door security in the world doesn't change anything if someone can easily enter your house by breaking a single pane of glass.

And I think that gets at a really fascinating piece of all this. Because so many of the solutions that would actually be effective at repelling a home invader (putting aside the question of whether its reasonable to worry about such an invader) (it isn't) are class-coded, right? Window bars and door chains are for poor people in "bad" neighborhoods, and so even though they're really the only solutions that make sense, they're off-limits.

White suburbanites have backed themselves into this weird little fear corner where they're absolutely petrified of "crime" but the aesthetics of being afraid of crime would diminish their status. The aesthetics of wealthy suburbanites are exactly those of someone who doesn't have to worry about crime. So they need all these weird ineffective gadgets to act as just a little bit of a safety blanket that none of their neighbors can see. You can't drill a chain into the door or get a heavier-than-usual lock, you need portable lock reinforcements and alarms that you can remove if one of the neighbors comes over. There's no aesthetically-compatible solution for the windows so you just try not to think about them. You're scared all the time but you can't admit it to your neighbor who, being a white suburbanite, is probably just as scared as you.

I dunno what this means exactly, but it's interesting, isn't it?

[mxqdii]

Hii i love your ADHD and bdp x matt headcanons sm I was wondering if you could do smth with anxiety reader? Like rly rly bad anxiety. I have extremely bad anxiety to the point where it has pulled me into depressive episodes and constant states of overthinking, needing reassurance 24/7 and always feeling alone/unwanted. I would rly rly appricate it sm if you did this it would mean so much to me as someone who struggles greatly. Maybe even mention like taking anxiety pills and stuff like that. (I was gonna do this annonymus but i decided not to incase you or anyone wants to talk💕 my dms are open)

headcannons - m.s x anxiety gf

pairings: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: headcannons

warning(s): anxiety, mentions of medication.

not proofread

first of all, matt would love any gf no matter what, we all also know that he also has his own mental health struggles

i feel like matt would definitely see some similarities in him and you (we all know he's an observer)

and since he observes you so much, he obviously notices the moments you get quiet, the way you cant stay focused, the way big crowds make you uneasy, he sees the signs.

he doesn’t really need to ask, cause he knows, and you know he knows

can easily read your body language, sees you shift in your seat? he knows you're uncomfortable, sees you picking your nails? he knows you're anxious

kind of likes the side of you when its just you and him , selfishly likes that he has you all to himself and that you feel this comfortable around him (and hopefully his brothers, eventually atleast)

when you have trouble sleeping, the night owl he is stays up anyways, playing with your hair until you fall asleep

always keeps rings on his fingers for you to fidget with instead of picking at your skin

if you get into a bad mental episode, he's by your side 24/7, helping however and whenever he can, whether thats driving you places or helping you shower, hes there no matter what.

(if you take meds) he'd watch you take them and be like "oh you take medication?" in the softest curious voice ever

that cues the overthinking and worrying that he'll see you different, but he's already reassuring you before you can get too far into it

reminds you to take your meds if you forget

sets alarms on his phone to remind you and him

a/n: so sorry this took so long!! hope you enjoyed :)

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @its-jennarose @thetriplets3 @gottamakemyhatersmad @luvsturniolo

[minvrse]

ㅤ ♡ ͟ ׂ ㅤ2.23𝖠𝖬, l. minho

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍… 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 

𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌. non idol au, idiots in love (minho is the idiot bcs reader is throwing signals like crazy, but he's blind lmao), childhood friends, fluff, skinship. ⸻ ( 1 . 4 𝗄 )

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾. was supposed to go up on my old blog but I decided to post it here lmao. hope u enjoy this fluffy piece ‹𝟹 + 𝗆.𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

FROM: YOU | TO: MINHO [2.32 am] hey, did you get home already? [2.32 am] i’m hungry  [2.32 am] up for a late night kbbq at our usual place? [2.33 am] i’m paying ‹𝟹 [2.33 am] no pressure tho ‹/𝟹

A soft smile rises to Minho’s lips when he fishes his phone out of his back pocket and sees your name pop up on his previously dark screen. He taps on it with his thumb, his heart swelling at the sight of his lockscreen—a candid picture of the two of you asleep, cuddled up on his parent's couch with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori on your laps. His mom had sneakily taken it a few weeks back on Christmas Eve, since, last year, it was your family's turn to spend the holidays at his childhood home. 

Alternating between both of your homes whenever the holidays came around had become a tradition ever since your parents befriended his only a few months after moving nextdoor, years ago. He could still clearly remember how shy and soft-spoken you were the first time you and your family came around, how eager you were to help set up the table to make a good impression on his parents, how you timidly came up to him sitting on the couch after dinner to ask if you could play with the cat he’d brought home from the streets only a few days ago—and how was he supposed to refuse your big eyes and adorable smile?

And though years have passed since that day, your pouty lip and those wide, glossy pupils of yours are still his biggest weaknesses to this day. Ask him to bring the moon to you with this combo, and he’ll find a way to do exactly that. 

FROM: YOU | TO: MINHO [2.34 am] PHOTO ATTACHMENT

His tired eyes try to focus on the picture you sent him, and his heart does a flip in his chest when he does. It’s a photo of your beautiful face—pouty bottom lip and all. 

He internally coos at it, saving it in his gallery (moving it into its designed folder) as he holds onto one of the poles of the half-empty metro with his other hand. He’s pretty sure that if any of the students from his dance studio saw him right now—all giddy and giggly and fond of someone—they wouldn’t recognise him at all. He’s known as this cold, unreachable, mysterious, but kind mentor who rarely lets anyone inside his close circle of friends; the one that gets bashful only when you call, text, or surprise visit him during work hours.  

More times than he can count, his students asked him if the two of you were dating, be they older or younger ones, and the question never fails to make him blush—because, damn, he wishes that were the case. 

Minho’s so in love with you, with every single aspect of you, with your voice and personality and features, with all of your strengths and flaws, because they make you… well, you. And sometimes, he’d daydream about finally having the guts to confess to you, but the fear of scaring you away holds him back—he’d rather try to ignore his feelings and preserve your current relationship instead of trying to change it and losing you.

And though he is so tired, so exhausted he just wants to go home and pass out on his bed until noon, but he wouldn’t pass up on the chance of spending time with you for the world. That’s why it takes mere seconds for him to type out and send you his response.

FROM: MINHO | TO: YOU [2.35 am] want me to pick you up?

The familiar ping informing him that he finally reached his final station, the one only a few feet from his apartment, reverberates in the metro car, and he quickly walks out of it as soon as the doors open. And as he walks up the stairs leading to the exit of the building, he can barely hold back the wide smile forming on his lips at the thought of seeing you soon.

His phone vibrates in his pocket once more, and he is quick to take it out. 

FROM: YOU | TO: MINHO [2.37 am] uhm, actually… [2.37 am] i’m outside the metro station in front of your building rn, sooooo

Your texts make him quicken his pace towards the exit—and surely, there you are: sitting on a bench under a bright streetlight, eyes set on the phone in your lap, and hands wrapped around a paper takeout coffee cup. He can see the steam coming out of the small opening of the lid as he approaches. 

His breath is always taken away whenever he sees you. You’re just… so ethereal in his eyes. 

The light snow falling from the dark sky, the already settled one covering everything around you, the warm light almost seeming to reflect on your perfectly white coat (the one he gifted you this Christmas), the way you meet eyes and show him the most beautiful of smiles—you could tell him you were an angel, and he would believe you. No questions asked.

“Hi.” is what he murmurs once he stands in front of you, and he melts when you look up at him from the bench with the softest of looks, bathed in the soft light shining above you. His gloved fingers reach out to brush away the few snowflakes settled on your head, making you quietly laugh before getting up from your seat.

“Hi.” you reply, handing him the cup from your hands before swiftly taking something from your bag. The delicate peck you place on his red, hot cheek makes his skin visibly burn with shyness, though he tries to cover it by chuckling once you start unexpectedly wrapping a warm, fluffy scarf around his neck. He can feel his whole being warm up at your sweet gesture, as well as taking up the chance to admire your features from a closer point of view. 

He studies your furrowed eyebrows, your concentrated gaze, the tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips before you accidentally meet eyes, and he looks away in embarrassment. He misses the way the corners of your lips tug up in a knowing smile.

A few more moments of comfortable silence pass, until you let out a satisfied hum before starting to speak—or rather, scold him, with that cute pout on your lips, “Here. You really have to start wearing scarves when you go out; it’s too cold to walk around without one, mainly at night. You’ll get sick, and then guess who'll go out with me in the middle of the night to stuff our faces with delicious food? Let me tell you—no one.”

He barely registers your words, eyes too enthralled in staring at the way your lips move, ears too engrossed in basking in the sound of your voice; but still, he gets the gist of it, and nods. “I will. Thank you.” he breathes, taking a sip of the coffee he’s holding.

You furrow your eyebrows, and snatch the cup away from his hands with an annoyed tisk. His signature smirk makes its way on his face at your pissed off frown, though it dies down when he sees you slot your lips on the lid exactly where his were. Knowing you're indirectly tasting his lips makes him shiver.

But before Minho impulsively decides to press his lips to yours (before he gives in to his desires and lets you taste his directly), he’s quick to lean down to take your bag from the wooden bench and throw it over his shoulder. You press another peck on his cheek as a thank you when he stands back straight, flustering him further.

Minho clears his throat, “Shall we?”

You vehemently nod, linking your arm with his before starting to walk in the direction of the kbbq place. “Mhm, I’m starving!” you pout, leaning your head on his shoulder as you match his pace.

His heart pounds faster at the warmth radiating off of you, the exhaustion he previously felt in his bones completely dissipated by now. And as he intently listens to you talk about your day, he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing grin. 

He really is down bad for you—astronomically so. And he’s forever glad it’s you who he fell in love with. Now, he just needs to find the courage to confess to you before it’s too late.

taglist : @moon0fthenight

[skygemspeaks]

i want to read a modern blackbonnet getting back together au where they're estranged high school sweethearts who dated through part of college as well

but then stede's father gets really really sick, and he berates stede about what a failure he is and how he's going to bring their family to ruin.

and like, here's stede right? he's 21, grown up in an abusive, homophobic household with strict parents who've always pushed their expectations on him, and he's always desperately craved his parents' approval.

and here's his father, telling stede that he has arranged a match for him with the daughter of a business partner, Mary Allamby.

and stede, he wants his father's approval right? just once in his life, he wants his father to smile at him, and tell him that he's proud. but now his father is on his deathbed, and stede has to come to peace with the fact that he might not ever get that.

if it were just that, he might have been able to deal with it, he might not have given in to his parents. but then he thinks about ed, who kind of absolutely hates his parents, for the way they've treated stede all his life. he thinks about ed, who puts up with dealing with his parents even though he always gets so angry and withdrawn afterwards. ed, who never talks back to them even when they insult his upbringing and his hardworking mother.

and stede knows, has known for a long time, that ed doesn't deserve to be treated that way. he deserves a partner whose won't let his family treat ed like shit, he deserves a partner who can stand up for him to anyone, he deserves so much fucking better than stede fucking bonnet.

so stede breaks up with edward, and that's the last they see of each other for over a decade.

stede dutifully marries mary, and they have two beautiful children together that stede would never give up for anything, not even edward

(stede's father dies, without ever saying that he's proud of stede. and stede aches)

they stay married for around 10 years, before mutually deciding that they just can't do this anymore. neither of them had ever loved the other, and they're both tired of bending to their parents' whims. they only have one life after all, they might as well do something that makes them happy.

so they divorce, and things are alright. they're better than alright, actually.

things are fucking fantastic.

stede's relationship with mary and his kids is better than its ever been, and now he's free to do whatever the fuck he wants with his life.

and he decides that what he wants to do with his life is start a new fashion line inspired by early 18th century british fashion, because that's something he's always been interested in, and it's not like he's hurting for money right? who cares if it's not profitable in the first few years. he's gonna do what makes him happy, dammit.

what he doesn't expect is the frankly somewhat overwhelming support he gets from fandom communities, a demographic he never even would have thought of pursuing if it weren't for Lucius, his very first employee.

so together the two of them build their business from the ground up. they rent a storefront nextdoor to this seedy little bar called "Blackbeard's Bar and Grill"

somehow, they manage to go almost a full month before deciding to check the bar out one day after work, and stede stops short as soon as he steps in, and catches sight of the most beautiful man he's ever seen behind the bar.

it's still relatively early in the afternoon, just after the bar has opened so they're basically the only customers there, and the man behind the bar looks surprised as he turns to greet them

when he does though, he stares for a solid 30 seconds before a surprised grin crosses his face and he says, "Stede fucking Bonnet, is that you?"

stede feels his mouth dry up as he realizes that that's edward fucking teach staring back at him, and yeah okay that tracks, looks like his tastes haven't changed one bit since they'd last seen each other because just the sight of him is doing things to stede that he'd rather not mention.

lucius is looking back and forth between the two of them incredulously, wondering how the fuck his dorky ass boss knows this hottie.

the two of them talk for hours, and even after the bar has gotten busy and lucius has excused himself for the evening, edward comes over to chat with stede any chance he can get.

they very pointedly avoid the topic of stede's (ex)wife, or how their relationship had ended, but they do make plans to get together sometime to hang out.

when stede tells mary about running into edward coincidentally one day after work, her reaction is a little too nonchalant, and suddenly stede remembers that she had been the one that had suggested the location for his storefront in the first place.

he's surprised to find how ridiculously fond he's become of her since the two of them had stopped forcing themselves to try and be a couple. he loves this woman to death, and it makes him sad that they had spent their whole marriage disliking each other, when instead they could have had this easy camraderie that whole time.

he tries not to dwell on it.

over the course of the next few months, stede and edward slowly start getting closer again, finding their way back to each other, before stede finally bites the bullet one day, and decides to bring up their relationship from high school and college.

for the first time, he explains to edward about what he had been going through at the time and why he had decided to break things off with him. he explains to edward that he still feels so guilty for breaking his heart.

stede explains that he's really enjoyed spending time with edward again these past few months, that he feels like he's gained a part himself back, and asks if edward would ever possibly consider giving him another chance?

edward doesn't respond, instead staring at stede for such a long time that stede is sure he's trying to find a way to let him down gently. he feels tears building up in his eyes, and his throat is starting to choke up and he's trying his best not to break down. he deserves this rejection, and he's not going to make edward feel bad for hurting his feelings.

but then edward pulls him into a rough kiss, and when they pull apart after, he's smiling wide.

"i thought you'd never ask," he says, breathless.

there's still a lot they have to talk about, a lot of hurt they have to work through, and stede has a lot of making up to do, but he doesn't mind. as long as he has edward at his side at the end of it.

[thepixelelf]

[feel my rhythm]

Choi Sungyoon is three things.

Your nextdoor neighbour, apartment-wise

An enthusiastic drummer

The bane of your existence

And you? At the top of your list, you normally — and proudly — jot down "patient".

But not today.

On any other day, you could put up with the relentless pounding Sungyoon rains down upon his drumset. It's a rubber set, of course; you doubt your shitty landlord would even give his deposit back after kicking him out if Sungyoon decided to play a real drumset half as often as he does the rubber one. With the dampened effect of the imitation drums, though, only you can hear the dull thud thud thud thud of Sungyoon's accursed rhythms, as his bedroom mirrors yours, and he's apparently tucked his set in the corner equivalent to where you've put your bed. No one else in the building has to deal with it.

And deal with it you have — for the last eight months since he's moved in. Every night, you'd tone out the thud thud thud thud and manage to study through it with some music playing, or, if the one-man concert went into the late hours, you'd shut your eyes and do your best not to grit your teeth before eventually falling into something of a sort-of-peaceful slumber.

You've never said a word.

On those off chances that you and Sungyoon would actually cross paths, you'd smile and wave in that we know each other but aren't friends kind of way and leave before a conversation could start up, no matter how slim of a chance it already was.

Not once have you complained. Not once have you ever even considered it a real, tangible problem.

You are patient.

...Except that a heavy feeling has settled in your chest over the last few hours; sat there and festered and rotted and grew and grew and grew and grew.

Thud thud thud thud.

Someone you're close to said you were a "people pleaser" today.

And, yeah, that's not the worst thing to say to a person. It's not even bad. You don't think you've ever heard the term in a negative context before.

But it's eating at you.

What they said after, too.

"I just wish you wouldn't let people walk all over you."

You don't let people walk all over you.

No.

And what is wrong with wanting people to be happy? Pleased with what you do with and for them? What is wrong with wanting to help people? If it means you have to grin and bear minor displeasures as a consequence, then shouldn't it be worth it? Doesn't everyone want to make everyone happy? Is that not painfully human?

You are not a damn pushover.

Thud thud thud thud.

You can't sleep. Can't even close your eyes without immediately opening them back up again because of that stupid thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud—

The next apartment's door appears in front of your eyes before all the blood in your head can flow to the rest of your body, and you rap your knuckles against the wood to the beat of the drums. When you hear the thudding stop, you cease your knocking, and something in your chest loosens.

Your resolve sticks tight.

Just as the door swings open, you go, "Are you a vampire?"

Sungyoon blinks at you, his wireless headphones loose around his neck. All that he's wearing is a baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants, and you're reminded of the fourth thing Choi Sungyoon is.

Handsome. (Unfortunately.)

"Uh..."

"Because only a creature of the fucking night who's never even heard of sleep would think of playing those goddamn fucking drums at two A.M. in the goddamn motherfucking morning without even the slightest concern for their nextdoor neighbour, who — by the way — has never complained to anyone ever about the incessant noise they've had to bear for the last eight and a half months because they're a nice fucking person and not because they're some kind of 'people pleaser', and absolutely not because they're a goddamn pushover like everyone apparently thinks they are—"

Your attempt at the world's longest (and saddest) run-on sentence breaks of with a pathetic whimper, and it's then that you notice the tears running down your cheeks, as well as the mix of shock and fear in Sungyoon's eyes.

Instead of turning tail and running, you just stand there, your finger still held up in the accusatory way you'd pointed at him mid-rant. The tears won't stop, but your pride won't let you move. Your lips tremble. You say nothing more.

Sungyoon's gaze doesn't stray from your face, darting from your eyes to the furrow of your brow, to your quivering chin, to your eyes again.

"...Okay," he says softly, his voice like fresh, warm bedsheets. He gives you a slow nod, like any sudden movements will set you off. "I'll keep it down."

And that should be it. You should thank him and make your shameful exit, but you don't.

Your hand drops to your side, and your lips turn down at the corners, and all you can do is let out a single, broken sob.

Sungyoon doesn't move. He doesn't shut the door on you even though he should. He just watches.

And holds out his arms.

No thoughts run through your mind as you let yourself fall into his embrace — only feelings. Warmth. Safety. Comfort.

You nuzzle your face into him, not knowing or caring when he tenses a bit before relaxing again. Sungyoon rests his head against yours, and the arms that you'd left limp at your side float up to wrap around his torso.

"...Do you want to talk about it?" he whispers after some time. You don't know how long.

In the slightest of movements, you shake your head against him. "Tighter," you mumble instead.

Sungyoon squeezes you gently, more gently than you want right now, but you don't ask for more.

"Okay." He nods, which you feel rather than see. "Do you... want to come in? Have a glass of warm milk, or something?"

That makes you laugh, if not the faintest you've ever made such a noise, but Sungyoon still seems to hug you tighter, so you suppose he must've heard it.

"Are you trying to pacify me like a toddler that just threw a tantrum?"

"Um..." Sungyoon pulls back a bit, just enough that you can see his sheepish smile. "No?"

You let yourself laugh again, tears long gone, and you're almost certain Sungyoon's smile widens. "You'd really let me in?" you ask. "After I berated you for doing something you enjoy?"

"Well..." While he doesn't let go of you, Sungyoon looks away, refusing to look at you as he says, "Please don't think I'm some kind of creep, but..." He taps his fingers nervously upon you, then braves himself to meet your eyes once more. "I've kind of been wanting to invite you in for a long time now."

[one-boring-person]

Hey!!!how are you?

Can i have some Rambo Headcanons??

Maybe the old rambo moving nextdoor to a young(24), farmer? (They/them pls), and maybe eventually him developing a crush or Wanting to protect them since they’re always so nice and caring towards him?

Thank you!!(these are for my birthday lmao, im a complete and total rambo simp. And i feel old rambo would really enjoy calming down and helping around with someone who loves him)

You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to write these as soon as I read the request! It's so wholesome, so I hope I've done it justice! And happy birthday! I hope you like these 😊(also I'm good, thanks for asking!)

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x younger!reader headcannons.

Warnings: mention of PTSD, vague injury detail.

A/n: I'm sorry if this is not as expected, I'm still getting to grips with writing headcannons 😅

Masterlist

The ranch had been in a state of disrepair when John first got there, walls thinning, paint peeling, buildings empty and soulless. He hadn't expected things to be as they were when he left, all those years ago, but the evident lack of care surprised him.

The house had been empty, which he eventually figured out was die to the fact his father had passed a good few years prior, and hadn't left anyone in charge of the ranch.

This meant that everything was as it was when he left, photographs hanging awkwardly on the walls, dusty furniture shoved out of the way.

Naturally, the rest of the ranch was also in pretty poor condition: the stables were practically overrun with weeds and foul smelling hay, one lone horse still nosing weakly at the empty water bucket on the floor. Taking pity on the animal, and feeling a need to help it, John took it out onto the field, which is where he first saw them.

Across from his father's ranch was another, smaller one, where horses and cattle grazed in the fields, a single car parked up beside the main house, which was in a much better condition than his own newfound home. In one of the fields, running around with a young foal, was who he assumed to be a ranchhand.

For a moment or so, he had stood and watched as the figure ran in circles with the youthful horse in tow, admiring their seemingly high spirits - he hadn't felt high-spirited in years.

After he'd helped the old horse from the stables out (cleaning out a stall, feeding it with feed he found in a storeroom), John had gone back to the house, almost forgetting the figure across the field, intending to head to sleep.

A couple of days passed after that, before he saw them again, though this time, they also saw him.

He'd started work on the house, having collected what he needed from a nearby town, and was sat on the roof of the main building as the sun glared down at him. Taking a brief pause from his work, he'd looked up and seen them in the field again, this time astride a larger horse.

They were racing around again, until the rider noticed they were being watched, at which point they slowed to a halt and looked around, quickly spotting John on the roof. From that distance, he couldn't tell what their expression was, but they raised a hand after a moment or so, waving up at him. Hesitantly, he had waved back.

Later that day, when he'd been sat on his father's old rocking chair on the veranda, taking another break, John had noticed someone coming up the road towards him. Standing out of instinct, John soon realised it was someone astride a horse, the rider carefully trotting up the drive, their face becoming clearer the nearer they came.

Still cautious of people, John had acted somewhat guarded as the person rode up to him, a broad smile on their work-weathered youthful face. In their hand, they carried a small box, which they cradled awkwardly on their thighs.

Approaching him, they'd tipped their hat, a battered Stetson, and greeted him, introducing themself as (Y/n), the owner of the ranch next to his. They'd spoken cheerfully, as if unaffected by the hardships of life, which they may well be. That's what John thought anyway, until they openly and happily told him about the passing of their parents, four years ago. The ranch had been left to them, leaving them in charge of the business.

Their first encounter had been somewhat awkward, but it didn't seem to bother (Y/n), and they left after ten minutes or so with a genial smile at him, stating that they'd be happy to help if he ever needed it. They also left behind the box, which John soon discovered was filled to the brim with cookies, a food he hadn't eaten for decades. Trying one, he soon rediscovered a love for them he didn't remember he had.

In the following weeks, John managed to fix up the house, getting it ready to live in properly, with some very brief help from his neighbour. They'd been round earlier in one week, dropping off another box of cookies, and had offered him access to their tools, which they brought round soon after.

After this, John felt it was only right that he invited them round for drinks as thanks, something that still made him somewhat uneasy. Somehow, he did feel reassured when they happily agreed and turned up the following Sunday, the two of them sitting in comfortable quiet on the veranda, sometimes talking, other times staying silent.

This became a regular occurrence.

Every week, (Y/n) would go to John's, or vice-versa, the latter soon learning to trust them and enjoy their company, finding himself in a better mood than he had been in in a long time. Their openness to talk or listen (even if he said very little) comforted him, allowing him to forget the nightmarish things going through his head near-daily.

After three months, (Y/n) had started coming round much more often, many times just appearing in the middle of the day to help out with whatever task needed doing, unafraid of doing dirty work. They later told him it was because they enjoyed his company far too much, and often actively sought it out: they made it clear that his quiet, brooding nature was an attractive quality about him that reassured them.

It didn't take long for them to become close, the two seemingly working at a different wavelength to the rest of the world, one that only existed between their small ranches.

They helped John procure his first horses, lending him one of their own to help build up the numbers. The differences between each ranch soon became blurred, the fence running through the middle of their respective fields eventually disappearing as they merged their ranches together, continuing with business individually with the help of the other's land.

John had long since accepted, within himself, that he would not find someone to spend the rest of his life with, not after Sarah. It was a sad truth, but one he had to live with.

That all changed when he suddenly realised he had fallen for his neighbour, the one person he now trusted and cared for more than anyone in the world.

He'd realised this when their face first started appearing in his nightmares, after a close accident that nearly resulted in catastrophe. (Y/n) had fallen from the roof of the stables, thankfully landing on a stack of stray hay which softened the impact, leaving them in severe amounts of pain for two days. Their face became part of the repertoire in his head, nightmares about their death soon plaguing him even further, as he finally acknowledged the newfound love he felt for them.

Because that's what it was: love.

It couldn't be anything less, he was too damaged to have heedless fancies, and his emotions were far too strong towards them. Since he'd moved in, (Y/n) had always been there, acting as a friend he never had, steadily working their way into his life, bettering it in ways he never would've thought another person could, supporting him through the episodes of flashbacks he was now prone to having. They had showed him love and care he hadnt experienced from anyone else. He valued them highly, prioritising them over himself, and he knew he was heavily attracted to them, but he told himself "no", don't ruin the friendship.

They didn't make it easy to repress the urges. No, they only managed to win him over more and more with their caring, loving attitude, though their youth managed to awaken some form of paternal instinct John never knew he had. He felt the need to protect them at all times, and he would do his best to uphold this, but he knew his feelings were getting too strong.

Somehow, he managed to miss all the loving glances, and little tells (Y/n) inadvertently laid down before him, the rancher have g developed similar feelings for him, though they'd never admit it to John, knowing how human interaction like that could be upsetting for him.

Eventually, it had taken a beautiful evening, with the sun spilling its last bloody rays on the dry landscape as the two sipped beer from bottles on the veranda, for them to finally admit to each other how they felt.

It just happened: one minute, they were leaning in to replace their bottles on the table, the next, their lips are just touching, breaths mingling as they struggle to do rain themselves. (Y/n) had finally leaned in, pressing their lips against his, pulling back almost as quickly as they moved in, a horrified, embarrassed expression on their face.

They'd apologised instantly, terrified that they'd screwed up their relationship, rambling and cursing until John had recovered and kissed them again, cupping their face in his hand as he pulled them closer. It had been too long for him, and the touch was just incredible, goosebumps rising along his spine as he poured all of his love and care into the kiss, pressing as close as possible.

Somehow, (Y/n) had ended up in his lap, head on his chest as he cradled them, relishing in the feeling of having a solid, supple body against his own after so long, and one that means him no harm, too. They knew where they both stood, and it kickstarted a close relationship.

(Y/n) moved in with him after their second foaling season together, where he'd seen their parental instincts kick in, particularly when they'd then worked to socialise the foals by playing with them. The memory would always stick with John: something about the carefree youth in their face as they ran around with the frolicking horses reminded him of the good in his life.

Life was good, everything was going mostly well.

Naturally, there were some days when he'd relapse, having particularly bad episodes that would be harrowing on both him and (Y/n), though they were always there to help him through it. Their soft words of love and worry would easily permeate the cloud of despair, and had break down in their arms, enjoying the sensation of being held.

They often held each other. Even if it was just a quick hug, or an embrace from behind as one pressed up against the other's back, touch became a large factor in their relationship - John relished it after the more callous touch he had grown used to.

Kisses, too, became a large way of showing their affection. Little ones here and there between jobs, deep passionate kisses up against the wall of the house, or sloppy making out on the shared seat on the veranda, it all counted for their love, and they thoroughly enjoyed partaking in them.

(Y/n) was always there, even when Gabrielle and Maria joined them. They were there when Gabrielle died, and they were there to avenge her death, choosing to go out with the man they loved.

Both of them liked to cook, even if John's meals were a little...plain...so they often spent hours in the kitchen with each other, fooling around with whatever they could, John's face alight with more smiles and grins than he thinks it's ever been.

They went riding together, finding solace in each other's company on their many trails through their land, the horses often coming home tired after so long of being out.

Sometimes, John got self-conscious about his age in comparison with their's, thinking he is too old for them. Everytime this happened, (Y/n) would reassure him that they love him for who he is and doesn't care if he's not as young as he used to be, it never would matter.

Marriage was never really a thing they considered. John never had much time for the state anymore, so why get them involved in their relationship?

They considered themselves married, and wore rings to show it, but it was never a legal affair. Nevertheless, the union had always been a happy one, and John could honestly say that he had been wrong about himself: he had found love.

[loafbud]

It's 00:03 and i just woke up, so here's a random story time.

Around middle/high school (I forgot which hellscape, lol) during the summer breaks then, me and my cousins would always hang out with the nextdoor neighbors around our age. We'd jump on their trampoline seeing who could jump the highest (we even made a theme song for it lol), play on the wii in their house. Basically, we all seemed like cool friends, even though they weren't the kindest, caring kind and did more harm than good. All in all, they seemed to accept us, we seemed to tolerate them.

Yeah, 'tolerate' is the word that best describes how I felt. While I never agreed with the stuff that did or the activities they partook in, I just shrugged it off then. Our times hanging out grew less and less until the nextdoor neighbors stopped visiting us as often.

Then comes one morning...

Maybe 2 to 3 years later or so?? This must've been later in middle school days.

So the bus came by to pick me up, as usual. (Or either my bus couldn't make it, so I needed to take another one? IDK) Turns out, one of the nextdoors walked up at our driveway to get on with me.

Up to this point, my head was all "Yooo it's been a minute since I seem them! That one time on the trampoline was HYPE!"

As we got on, the bus driver wasn't my usual so she didn't recognize me, so she asked nextdoor if we were friends.

Nextdoor's immediate response: "Uuuhh huh?? I don't know her,, 😒" Didn't even look me in the eyes.

And like— past me was caught off guard by the tone of her voice. It was hella vile, like she wanted nothing to do with me. For that half second as she walked away to sit down, my mind got foggy and I almost lost my balance coz I was like "??? dude, we literally used to hang out, how could I suddenly mean nothing to you? woooow ok"

At the time, I was used to being told off as a loser (directly + indirectly), being the "shy, reserved too-nice pushover who was 'gifted' and 'different' person I was. Being called offensive stuff, being (verbally) bullied, I was used to it all- so the abrupt change of heart wasn't THAT surprising or new. I addressed who I was to the driver, aware of feeling all the "who tf is that?" blank stares burning in my peripherals, then I sat down 😂

It was a memory that just randomly popped up in my mind that I felt like sharing. Ever since that morning many years ago, none of the nextdoors acknowledged us coz I guess they saw themselves as the "cool kids". In a way, it's a blessing in disguise. I'd probably would've still hung out with them because they were familiar to me, so the change of heart was a bullet dodged- they weren't even the best energies to be around regardless.

But yeah, it's many moments like these I had experienced that makes me so closed off to ever opening up that much. Coz people really do be faking to be yo friend and then backstab because they either see you as "less than" or don't wanna see you thrive. Of course, being closed off is my choice: I could choose to open up- but it's that ego within me that's trying to protect itself out of fear - it'd take a whole-ass crowbar to open 🌚

Even now, I still find it hard to believe that I'm even deserving of love (just telling myself "I deserve to be loved" makes me sick to the core lol). And I guess it's because I personally never had anyone tell me that face-to-face, and all these years I had to rely on comforting myself... even if that "comfort" was in the form of ultra-detachment or keeping my emotion bottled up. I always had (and have) to keep my guard up, coz I done had my heart kicked and shredded too many times 😂😂😭

Alright, I'm done. I didn't think I'd be sitting and typing all this for 40 minutes. ☠️

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

DOTTIE’S BATFAM FIC RECS

hi!! so, no one asked for this but,,, I wanted to make one anyway! I really love the batfam a lot and I see a lot of ppl in the fandom wishing it was easier to find good fics. this is by no means all of them but they are some of my faves, generally not too fanon-y! all fics are gen/family fluff with little to no ships (which are not bat/cest). 

feel free to message/ask me about triggers if you’re unsure!! and lmk if I forgot to tag anyone ❤️

---

Homecoming by Ionaperidot / @iowriteswords on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966704/chapters/24414906

Summary: “Your son’s grave. It’s been disturbed.” In which people actually notice when Jason breaks out of his grave, and Bruce finds him before Talia does.

My thoughts: Bruce’s voice in this is seriously perfect, plus Dick, Jason, and Tim are great as well!! This fic honestly helps inform me of my Tim characterization!

---

The Wound Begins To Bleed by audreycritter / @audreycritter on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295661

Summary: Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around. Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

My Thoughts: it makes me emotional okay it GETS me right in my HEART!!! both Dami and Tim are so so so good I can’t rec this enough

---

just hold a smile by RecklessWriter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777705

Summary: That's the thing about smiles, Dick thinks. If you flash the right one, no one knows there's something more going on inside. Five times Dick faked a smile and one time someone saw through it.

My Thoughts: Dick & others, including Tim and Cass. Dick is really good at hiding his feelings from others, and I love how in this fic, a lot of times, he’s hiding them to “protect” whoever it is

(more under the cut!)

life, if well lived by CaptainOzone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378512

Summary: Jason wakes up from a time-travel mishap to find Thomas and Martha Wayne hovering over him. Just another day in the life, right? ...Not quite.

My Thoughts: this one had me crying like a baby!!! the characterization is great and I love CO’s Thomas and Martha

---

one shot, two shots in the night by discowing / @dykewing on tumblr, @/wlwdiscowing on twitter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871864/chapters/44792710

Summary: The New York Times ✓ @nytimes · 4h

“A Shot in the Dark” remains on our bestseller list for the fourth week in a row! Read our review of @brucewayne’s tell-all memoir here: nyti.ms/3Fs9k2E

My Thoughts: TALK ABT MAKING ME CRY. this gets me every time, and it’s absolutely worth ALL of the rereads. such a great Bruce.

---

The View From Jade by lowflyingfruit

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329791/chapters/25359972

Summary: Being transported to the past is not the sort of thing one normally expects. But this having happened, and with no easy way back, Jason's determined to make the most of it. Though the Bat still stalks Gotham's streets, the city's crime is run by the mobs instead of the rogues. There's no Joker yet. There's no Robin. Maybe there shouldn't be.

My Thoughts: Jason & Dick, and also Bruce somewhere in there too. this is SO! GOOD! I absolutely love Jason’s voice, and Dick is so in character. plus Bruce and Alfred are awesome as well!!!

---

The Birds Who Smile by Raberba girl / @raberbagirl on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972324/chapters/29656290

Summary: "Dark Nights: Metal" AU where Bruce adopts three of the Robins who once belonged to the Batman Who Laughs.

My Thoughts: I think this was the first fic that introduced me to Duke, actually! and while there are a LOT of characters involved, they’re all pretty great and realistic. they have their moments to shine and it’s,,, *chef’s kiss*

---

The Thing about Apples and Trees by Cdelphiki / @cdelphiki on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192747

Summary: When Jason agreed to let Bruce adopt him, he thought that meant Jason felt happy and safe in Bruce's home. But when Jason's nightmares only increased, and his panic attacks and meltdowns started happening more often, Bruce was at a complete loss for what to do. But then, Jason finally opened up to him, and he was able to quell some of Jason's worse fears. Perhaps a midnight chat and a few hugs wouldn't fix everything, but it was a step in the right direction.

My Thoughts: this is part of a series but might be okay to read on it’s own? tho really I suggest the entire series, it’s amazing. but this fic specifically has great kid Jason characterization (and also made me cry, I think!)

---

Kitten by lurkinglurkerwholurks / @lurkinglurkerwholurks on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194294

Summary: Bruce opened his mouth, prepared to give the unemotional, no-nonsense explanation he had cobbled together between his walk to the car and now. Instead, his mouth went dry and nothing came out.

“Bruce?”

Bruce was saved from answering by the thin cry that cut through the silence. He winced, then reached back with one hand to shush the dimpled, kicking legs.

“Bruce, tell me I did not just hear what I thought I heard.”

My Thoughts: so so so cute! plus the gangs all here!!!

---

Yes Ma’am by lurkinglurkerwholurks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004695

Summary: Jason had shuffled into the bedroom and had just finished pulling his shirt over his head when he paused, arms still trapped in the fabric. A pair of eyes glowed at him from the bed, reflecting the dim light from the hall.

My Thoughts: I also have to include this one bc it was a gift to me, and it’s so cute & angsty & just dkjsfsdjkhfksjah I love it so much

---

The D-Word by AutumnHobbit / @autumnhobbit on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9597686

Summary: "See, Tim?" Jason called over his shoulder sardonically. "Dad agrees with me."

He turned back to his food for a moment before the thought suddenly occurred to him that the Cave had gone near silent. He cautiously glanced back at the others. Alfred was still working away at stitching Tim up. Tim looked a little pale and sweaty, but he was glancing over at Jason with a look that was a mixture of concern and confusion. Bruce was standing stock-still, seemingly staring off into space.

My Thoughts: I constantly reread this when I want funny and then heart breaking Jason & Bruce feels. I always know what’s coming and it STILL GETS ME

---

baby wonder by drakefeathers / @drakefeathers on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887807

Summary: (baby!damian AU) Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman. But the Damian that Talia leaves in his care isn’t a ten-year-old warrior, he’s a ten-month-old baby.

My Thoughts: oh my goddd this is so good, it hurts but it’s SO CUTE at the same time??? ugh dskjfhkjsadhf

---

a hat fashioned from tin foil by discowing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356020

Summary: nightwang @karakurachou – 8 hours ago

jason todd is alive and faked his death so he could become robin: a conspiracy theory thread

Batfam conspiracy theories meet social media.

My Thoughts: !!!!!!! so good!!!! seriously one of the best social media fics I’ve ever read.

---

Bet Your Bottom Dollar by jerseydevious / @jerseydevious on tumblr and twitter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971160/chapters/42447017

Summary: Dick's been having kind of a hard time, recently. When it boils over, Bruce is there for him.

My Thoughts: I reread this one a LOT when I need Dick & Bruce feels

---

Metanoia by AlannaOfRoses / @alannaofroses on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943249

Summary: Jason's bleeding out, Dick's overtired, and a half-serious offer turns into their new normal. Sometimes you just need somebody else around.

My Thoughts: this one was also a gift to me!! it’s got amazing brotherly bonding and it made me laugh a LOT

---

a hundred miles through the desert by acrobats

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197330/chapters/43045388

Summary: Finding himself nearly three decades into the past hadn't been part of Jason's plans for the day, but he could manage. Having no idea how he got there, no clear path home and a recently orphaned Bruce Wayne determined to drag Jason into his search for his parents' killer - that might be a little more complicated.

My Thoughts: ughhh this is such good Jason content (and such amazing Jason voice, too) I adore it

---

oh, where do I begin? by LazuliQuetzal / @lazuliquetzal on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21988693

Summary: “No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Jason says. “We’re a-okay. Just peachy. Good times.”

“Oh,” Duke says, lamely, working himself out of crisis mode. There’s an awkward silence for a moment before he speaks up again. “Why did you call?”

“Right, right," Jason mumbles, which seemed a little out of character to Duke. His sort-of wayward brother was generally intimidating, even when he wasn't trying to be. "Uh, Dick said that you had a guinea pig when you were younger. How do you take care of a guinea pig?”

_____

AKA, not-exactly accidental guinea pig acquisition

My Thoughts: this was ALSO a gift to me but it’s so funny and sweet and there’s amazing Duke & Jason bonding so I absolutely must rec it

---

Latchkey by goldkirk / @goldkirk on tumblr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672928/chapters/51685639

Summary: or, How Tim Drake Found A Family, Became A Photojournalist, Learned To Love Coffee, and Grew Up, not necessarily in that order.

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird nextdoor neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.

My Thoughts: this is SO GOOOOD the Tim feels are amazing!!! the family interactions!!! everything! sdkjfhsjdfhksdhfajh

---

Blood in the Water by MishaBerry

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734052/chapters/29037474

Summary: We all do stupid things when we are lonely, and in faraway lands, we hardly expect the consequences to follow us. Bruce certainly never thought twice about an American woman in Jaipur after one night with her. He hardly expected to see her ever again.

The universe, on the other hand, had different ideas, and the tides of time and chance brought Tim Drake to Bruce's life over and over again.

My Thoughts: this one is more AU than a lot of the others on here but it’s a lot of fun!! it has Tim & Damian & Jason feels, plus the rest of the family on a smaller scale

---

so these are just SOME, and honestly you should go and check out other works done by all of these authors!! also would like to suggest reading the fics of @renecdote , @caramelmachete , @redtruthed , @rredarrow , and @schweeeppess !!!

[the-fiction-witch]

More Bunnies!

REAL LIFE: SCANDAL COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: ADORABLE AF

"Ladies, gentlemen, and those who have yet to make up there minds." y/n smiled sitting on her sofa Thomas' beside her with his head on his hand

"Is that a kinky boots quote?"

"Yes it is, did you finally get around to watching it" "Yes I did"

"And?"

"It's good, not as fun as rocky horror but"

"Nothing's as fun as rocky horror, you'd be good if they ever make another movie of it"

"Yeah? would I make a good rocky sweetie darling?" "No, I was thinking riff raff"

"...well fuck you too"

"Anyway, the point of the video"

"Yes, the point"

"This may be the first video where I'm doing something, and you have actually wanted to be involved, I haven't bribed you, you know what we are doing, and your still here"

"Because this is a good video"  he says "That I very much wanted to be a apart off"

"Because you love them"

"I do, I don't know how anyone can't love them"

"My ex boyfriend hated them

"Yeah well I hated him to"

"You did?"

"We both know I hated joe, he was a dick. that lacked dick Ironically"

"He did, too much dick in the personality, not enough dick in the pants" she giggled "But anyway this video is not about dicks" "That's next week" "will you... shut the mouth. make me tea"

"No"

"Then just shut the mouth"

"The point! of this video. Is that tomorrow is a very very special day, Now I think before I really explain we need a bit of back story" she smiled "My dad owned a vintage car garage, he had been a mechanic all of his life, he learnt though just constantly going to work my his dad in a little garage up in Norfolk, But he opened the garage when he was about eighteen fixing classic cars up for people. and Everyone worked in the business, My dad met my mum because she owned a little  AJS Motorbike that she constantly needed him to fix. My brothers all worked there, and of course I worked there. When we lost my mum, we kinda just... I would say floated like we survived and I very much kinda became the mother being the only girl in the family. And that is something I do say with family businesses you need and out because you work all day with your family and then go home to your family you sort of never leave the dynamic. and As we all likely know as we have told this story, Thomas started working at our garage when... I think you where like sixteen? fifteen then you started?"

"I was fifteen but imminently about to turn sixteen when I started"

"yeah"

"But... the weird thing Is we met when I stated, but we didn't really... know each other" "Yeah it was that weird like, we work at the same place we see each other a lot but we rarely talk to each other"

"I was in the office a lot I did a lot of paperwork and ordering then, and you just constantly had like your head in Morris minors and mini's"

"I think the first time we really spend any time together was when your dad was away, and your brothers where away and it literally was just me and you in the garage, I was tinkering with this little Rover, and I remember you just coming over"

"You had like oil and dirt all over your face and hands from this shitty little rover, so I went over with a little cloth and like did the-"

"The like lick the cloth wipe the dirt off my face"

"I did, and from then on just... bestest friends"

"Yeah, Best friends"

"With crushes on each other"

"I did have a crush on you at that age that's something I have admitted to." "I don't think the situation helped though, like I was one girl in a garage where you worked, at some point you where going to get a crush on me"

"Ummm, You had a crush on me too at one point?"

"I did, I think because you where like the only person who worked there who wasn't part of my family, but it never went anywhere," she shrugs "Anyhow, and then when I moved out of my parents house into my first little apartment I kinda... felt weird I moved away from my family I suddenly felt very lonely and unneeded" she explained "there was more going on at that time that I will put in a video at some point. but I wasn't great emotionally and at that time my best friend Lisa, had a pregnant bunny rabbit named lopple. Now Lisa didn't know still doesn't know how she got pregnant, she thinks the rabbit who was like nextdoor or something got out and somehow got to lopple we don't know all we know is that I was over there helping her prep so making the beds up helping where Lopple was nesting all that kind of thing, and we sat in her garden giving lopple some very soft pets and we just saw something move and saw she was giving birth." she explained "She had six rabbits in her fluffle" "Her fluffle?"

"yes thomas, its called a fluffle" "Is it?"

"Yeah, a litter of kittens, a fluffle of buns"

"That is adorable" "yes it is, but she had six, now Lopple was a very chubby black lion hair and we don't know about the dad but all these buns where black and white and the one who looked most like lopple was this little bun that had white paws and a white tail, a white nose and then just black all over and Lisa's plan was that she was going to keep the babies until they where old enough and then sell them on to other people" she explained

"That didn't happen"

"I didn't, I basically went over every single day and watched these little bunnies grow up to where they could function on there own, and I grew very attached to the one we had nicknamed socks because of her white feet and Lisa just kinda asked me if I wanted her?" she smiled "I had never had bunnies before, or really pets before but I couldn't leave her so I instantly said yes, went to a pet store that day and bought all the stuff she would need and took her home to my apartment set her little hutch up at the end of my bed, and I renamed her hen I got her home to Hopscotch" she smiled

"About... maybe a week later I came over to your apartment and Met hopscotch" "she loved you, Immediately" she laughs "I was expecting her, like when she had met other people that she would hide in her house, or she would come and burrow into my back like she still does, or maybe bite I was worried about biting, but you sat by her house she came wondering out with her little soft feet, walked right over to Thomas sniffed him jumped in his lap and feel asleep"

hopscotch ran across the wooden floor to where Thomas sat cross legged

"Hello? small rabbit"

"Hopscotch"

"Really?"

"Yes"

"okay, Hi hopscotch"

"she's thinking about it, she's giving you a sniff"

"Give me an investigate, nose pat down"

"seeing if you got any contraband, Like carrots"

"I don't have any carrots I'm sorry"

she then jumped onto his lap getting comfy in a little bunny loaf, closing her little eyes and going to sleep "Awwww you have been chosen"

"I have?"

"You have been chosen this is your life now Thomas. you are not a bunny bed"

"I am fine with this, this is life now, Hey... Hey little girl," he chooes petting her fur  

"and she still loves me"

"she does, and I don't know why. it's maddening to me" she laughs "Hopscotch, come here darling" she called picking up the soft bunny who instantly walked over the sofa to Thomas' lap "You see what I mean"

"I cried the first time"

"You did, I remember you just like in tears as she slept on your leg because she was just too cute" she laughs "and then, when I got this house and moved here she came with me, and we very much became a family, like the three of us."

"I think we kinda did when we first moved next-door to each other we just basically lived together, more then we do now, we've put some .... kinda rules and boundaries in now but then we really where just basically living together" he explained

"and one day, we where shopping together and we had to go to the pet store to get food for hopscotch, and we walked in going to the rabbit section to get the food and..." she smiled picking up jellybean from the floor "This little boy was there, in a little pen of rabbits they had for sale all of them where playing and bouncing around but this little boy was just sat by the glass chillin' eating a dandelion leaf" she smiled "Now people think I squealed and had to get him but-

"I went to buy rabbit food for hopscotch and I think..."

she then showed the pet shop with the glass pen of bunnies where a little one sat playing with thomas though the glass "I think thomas' found a friend"

"look at him! He's so fluffy"

"Like you"

"He is like me! we have the same hair" He laughs

"The sign says you can pet but not pick up"

thomas happily leant in petting the bunny that instantly nuzzled into his hand

"what is happening right now? are you some sort of bunny magnet Thomas?  where you a rabbit in a former life?"

"maybe"

"You are fluffy, horny and like veg. Fuck you are a rabbit"

"that makes way more sense then I like"

"Is this happening? are you going to get a bunny Thomas?"

"I might, but if I do we can't hang out as much as we'll both have animals in our houses" "Or I could just keep him at my house, him and hopscotch could be best friends?"

"Yeah?  should we do it? should we get Hopscotch a brother?"

"I did" "Yeah, you pointed him out, and sat like waving at him though the glass for like ten minuets, they said you could pet them just don't like pick them up so we both gave this little boy some pets, petted his soft ears and I couldn't leave him there" she smiled "so I bought another rabbit, and came home very nervous very worried how hopscotch was going to react to him, introduced them slowly and all that so they wouldn't fight but"

"They mewed" "And rabbits rarely mew"

"They don't but the minuet jellybean got in here he started mewing, hopscotch was a little more tentative but thats because its her house and she sniffed the box he was in and you could hear them mewing at each other trying to like talk to each other though this box, and you could see them trying to give each other kisses though an air hole in the box"

"it was so fucking cute, I wish I filmed it," she says "and then we let him out and they sniffled each other and licked each other and just they where so happy together, I assumed they would sort of bond like brother and sister. Because they are both my babies but... I was dumb because of course they didn't" she laughs "We know very well from lots of videos' that hopscotch and jellybean and very in love"

"They are very in love, like if you take one just into another room without the other they'll start crying, and stomping until there allowed to be together again"

"I take them both to the vet. if one has to go, because it's way less stressful for them both to just be together" "It's weird how much... like us they are" "Ummm, but the news!"

"Yes, news"

"There is going to be... some more life in this house" she smiled "Someone, is preggo"

"Not you!"

"OHH fuck no, no, no I am not pregnant. thank the devil. but another little fluffy lady is." she smiled "we got it back from the vet last week, she's pregnant, she's going to be having a little fluffle of kits of her very own. " she smiled

"Our babies having babies" he smiles cuddling hopscotch

"Lopple has been notified about the up and coming grandchildren." she smiled "Hopscotch is on a nice preggo diet, and jellybean is in trouble. I'm sure there will be a video where we shall met the fluffle. I don't know what the plan is, I think it depends on how many she has on weather or not we keep them"

".... you are not getting rid of them, No. I will not allow it"

"Thomas' I can't afford to keep like ten rabbits"

"the money is not an issue I shall fund the bunnies"

"I lack the house space for like ten rabbits thomas" "Guess we'll have to move house then"

[im-not-looking-for-forgiveness]

could you write something about the reader being a close friend of the family and tommy being in love with her (she doesn'tknow but feels the same). she works in a shop near the garrison and a man she turned down constantly goes there to convince her to go out with him. she doesn't tell anyone till the blinders see him making her uncomfortable? :)

Unanswered Question - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Thank you for the request!!! 🥺❤️

Taglist: @tranquility-or-chaos @captivatedbycillianmurphy @imagine-richards @hxnky-cat

*****

'Oh, god, not him again.' you thought, stepping out into the street. You just had a long day at work in your father's bakery, and now this was the bitter end. Couldn't you just have your drink nextdoor at the Garrison while staring longingly at Tommy in peace?

Eustace, a man who had been desperately trying to court you since the day you met him, would not leave you alone. No matter what you said or did, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He showed up nearly every day to ask you on a date, and you refused every time. He always conveniently showed up when the Blinders weren't around, and so there was no bigger fish to keep him away.

It didn't help that your family preferred Eustace and wanted you to pursue him over Thomas, but you just couldn't do it. Tommy was your best friend, and you were his. He didn't know you loved him, but that didn't matter yet. You'd rather spend every day having your love be unrequited versus spending a single one with this creep.

"Hey! Fancy meeting you here!" Eustace called, voice friendly enough but with a sickly tinge to it that just never settled right.

"Yes, how odd." you gave him a polite smile, not really knowing what else to do. You'd told him every form of no you could think of, and were running out of options.

"I've decided that I'm not going to leave your side. You just haven't spent enough time with me to be comfortable saying yes. I totally understand. This is a perfect solution!" he explained smugly.

With barely hidden annoyance, you responded, "I'm busy. I don't have time for a relationship with you, even if I actually wanted to. Which I do not. I'm sorry, but no is still my final answer."

"You don't know me well enough to say no!" he argued, still smiling. It was unnerving.

"I don't like you in that way." you persisted, getting nervous when he came closer. You were considering making a run for the bar any second now. The Shelbys ought to be there soon...

"Oh, come on! Just go on one date with me! I'm not leaving until you say yes." he got closer, clearly trying to stay calm.

"I love someone else!" you blurted out, hoping that the mention of another would finally stop him. It made you sad that this is what you had to resort to, but your safety was on the line.

"Who would that be, then?" his expression darkened, revealing anger in a microsecond. He made a motion with his hand, and suddenly there were two other men before you that you'd never seen.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." came the angelic voice of Thomas Shelby, who was flanked closely by his brother and their cousin.

You lunged around Eustace and his small gang, and ran to the Peaky Blinders. To others, they were evil. To you, they were your heroes. You had never felt more safe or alive than in the company of Thomas Shelby.

Tommy caught you by the elbow, and pulled you behind him and Michael. He didn't look at you. He only had eyes for his prey: Eustace.

"You okay?" Michael asked quietly. You nodded, but didn't speak. You had to focus on Tommy.

"Yeah? And just who might you be?" Eustace demanded, completely unaware of who he was challenging.

"We're the Peaky fucking Blinders!" Arthur shouted, shoving one of Eustace's men backwards. He had apparently shoved so hard that the poor kid landed flat on his back.

Eustace's face went as white as a sheet. He obviously knew the name, especially considering they were practically on their doorstep, but he clearly hadn't known what they looked like until just now. You nearly burst out laughing at his misfortune.

"Yeah, well, fuck off! I just want the girl. She owes me a date, and an answer to my question!" he snarled, accepting that he was doomed and not going down without a fight.

Arthur asked impulsively, "What question?"

"She said she loves someone else. I want to know who. My fight is with the man she tells me, not you." he said, folding his arms.

"Look-" began Arthur.

"No, I'll answer. If you promise to leave me alone after, I'll tell you." you announced. You had really meant to do this in a better way, but what was more fitting when you loved the leader of a razor gang?

Eustace grudgingly nodded.

"Go on." Michael encouraged.

"The man I'm in love with is Thomas Shelby." you said simply, staring at Tommy's back.

He straightened up, and you felt horribly afraid that he was never going to speak to you again. What you couldn't see was the smirk that had appeared on his mouth, or the way his heart was swelling in his chest at your declaration.

"I suggest you leave before Arthur here does something he shouldn't." Tommy responded, voice loud and clear.

Arthur stepped forward, and in doing so scared the others off. You'd never seen a man look so thoroughly scared and defeated in all your life.

It gave you an overwhelming sense of relief to know that you were finally safe from his daily pestering. It was also a huge weight to have spoken your feelings, even if Thomas didn't return them. You just hoped that he would let you be his friend still, if nothing else.

"Are you alright?" Thomas asked, turning around and looking at you fully. You couldn't decipher what he was thinking at all. Did he feel the same? Was he going to say anything about it at all? God, this was the worst!

You gave a nervous laugh, "I am now. I could use a drink, though."

The four of you began to walk towards the bar, the smell of victory still lingering in the air. You just couldn't bask in it due to the fact that Tommy still hadn't said anything. He was acting friendly enough towards you, but maybe it was because he was just used to women loving him. Would things be awkward now? Would he even want to be your friend? You were going to go crazy if he didn't tell you soon!

After ordering drinks, you'd gotten Tommy alone with the not-so-subtle help of Arthur and Michael. The elder Shelby brother gave you a large wink as he and Michael remained at the bar, and you and Tommy found a booth at the back.

"That was clever to use me. My reputation still precedes me." Thomas spoke first, subtly testing to see if you had been lying.

Ouch. Is that really what he thought? You had to set him straight or you wouldn't be able to look at him. You knocked back your shot of whiskey before saying, "Eustace was a bloody pain, but I wasn't just using you, Tommy."

"Oh?" he took a sip of his own drink, before rubbing an unlit cigarette across his lips. He patted his pockets for his lighter, but wasn't able to find it.

You plucked a lighter from your own pocket while he was still searching around, and flicked it open. Tommy looked slightly surprised, but then leaned into the flame. You caught his eye while he lit his cigarette, and you couldn't help but blush. You couldn't remember ever being this bold or intimate with him before. What had gotten into you today?

He closed the lighter for you and leaned back. Thomas then spoke up, "You know him by name."

"Only because he hounded me nearly every day to go out with him! I said no every time, because I wanted it to be you." you got out in a rush.

After a few moments, he murmured, "The feeling is mutual then."

"What?" you sputtered, accidentally dropping the lighter onto the table in shock. You had hoped this would be the outcome, but hadn't actually expected him to feel the same!

He chuckled quietly, "I thought it was obvious."

"I thought it was obvious to you!" you grinned, putting the lighter away.

"I may be a little rusty. It's been a long time since I felt this way about someone." he admitted, reaching forward and slowly taking your hand. Without him saying so, you knew he was talking about Grace.

You held his hand tight, "You're the only person I've ever felt like this with. We can be rusty together."

Tommy put his free arm around your shoulders and hummed, "I like the sound of that."

[zairapvrker]

oookay, so i made the rookie mistake of deleting post this before it was finished and had to delete it, so the ask got lost. luckily i had screenshotted it, i hope you’ll see this anyway dear anon! thank you for requesting and i hope you’ll like this💕 (unedited)

masterlist

This dance around your feelings was softly killing you both. When you were with him you felt like flying and falling at the same time, knowing that he wouldn’t be there to break the fall but choosing to jump anyway. Calum had been a friend of yours for forever, and since you could remember you’d always wished you two could be more. What you did not know was that he felt the same - but the two of you were always too blind to see it, always afraid of losing each other.

If the two of you were together, you didn’t care for the rest of the world at all, alienating yourselves and entering your own little world. 

There had been a few close calls, a few times when either one of you had almost crossed that invisible line drawn in between your hearts, but out of fear it never really went where you were both hoping it would.  Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that you were meant to be, not the two of you though. 

The crowd was the same as always, that Saturday night, when you got to the bar where you were supposed to meet your friends. You saw them occupying your usual booth in the far corner of the room as soon as you walked in, your eyes trained to go that direction almost automatically. The night was going great, everyone had a few drinks in their systems and you were currently playing the most fun game of pool of your life, probably because none of your friends was getting it right. You doubled over in laughter as you saw one of them miss their shot and almost fall onto the table and disrupting the game. Everything was good, you even liked the music blasting through the speakers. That’s when you saw him. Calum, wrapped up into the arms of somebody you didn’t recognize, so close your gut wrenched as you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

Surely you must be mistaken, you must be jumping to conclusions. But they had smiles that, you thought, shined twice as bright than yours when you were together. Calum was making her laugh, the unmistakable glow you loved lighting up his features as well. You refused to listen to reason, the small voice in your own head suggesting why you shouldn’t be letting your heart break over an assumption. But you wouldn’t listen to yourself.  He wasn’t even yours to begin with, why should you be sad? But the heart has its reasons which reason does not know.

You bid goodbye to everyone, pretending to be tired, as you spared Calum one last glance. His eyes met yours from across the bar, just one second was enough to make you tremble. You left without looking back.

It had been a week since then and you’d let yourself focus on your work and nothing else to keep your mind from replaying the image you had of him with her in your head. That obviously meant ignoring Calum as well.

The poor boy had no idea what had happened, if he’d done something to upset you and he was starting to worry. At the beginning, all that he could get out of you were short answers, telling him that you were busy and couldn’t talk, couldn’t meet. Then that had turned into complete silence and he was about to combust. He’d been fidgety and tense all week, distracted and worried. You’d been on his mind all day everyday, but then again, when weren’t you? Calum took it upon himself to go and check on you, still remembering where your spare key was hidden. He had a bunch of snacks with him and was ready for whatever issue you were going to throw at him. Or so he thought.

Before he could even look under the potted plant of your nextdoor neighbour, where your key was, you opened up the door and a man he didn’t recognize came out, waving you goodbye. He froze.  As soon as you saw Calum you did too, not expecting him to be at your house. You looked at him confused. “Calum” you let out in a sigh.

“Hi” he said through gritted teeth. “Is him why you’ve been avoiding me?” before he could even realize what he was going to say his mouth spoke for him.

Anger built up inside of you. He was one to talk. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Oh, you heard me the first time” things were excalating quickly and before he could add anything, you’d pulled him into the apartment, slamming the door shut.

“What are you even going on about?” you exclaimed, throwing your ands up and walking to the living room, Calum hot on your trail.

“You’ve barely talked to me all week long, only sparing me yes or no answers and pathetic excuses” his voice started to raise, his bottled up emotions finally being let free.

“I told you I was busy” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bullshit!” you’d barely ever seen Calum like this, and you never wished for this to happen again. “Or maybe, yeah, you were busy with him” he mirrored your stnce, his chin pointing to the direction of the front door.

That was a low blow and it hit you where it hurt, you’d refrained speaking to him in fear of speaking words you could never take back and he had the nerve to come to you just to yell at you? You weren’t having it.  “And even if I was? That’s none of your damn business” 

He scoffed to hide the pain he was feeling, not allowing you to win this yet. “It’s my business alright! I’m your best friend and you won’t even talk to me”

Those two words stung even more than what he’d said before, but you didn’t know about the bitter taste left in Calum’s mouth after he’d spoken them. “Well I could say the same” you said.

“You’re the one who’s keeping secrets and ignoring me” he knew he was being childish, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, says the onewho hasn’t told me about his new girl” this was hurting you more than you wished it did.

“What girl?” he asked dumbfounded. You scoffed.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me” you snickered. “I saw you two at the bar, last week” you spat, the image of them still fresh in your mind.

Calum had to stop and think for a second, almost not understanding what you were talking about. “That’s a friend of Mali’s, she asked me to show her ‘round” he replied, recalling the events of the week prior. “If you hadn’t bolted out of the bar I would’ve introduced her to you”

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to believe that when she was all over you” 

“She wasn’t all over me” he defended. 

“Was too” 

“Was not!” you were about to speak again, before he cut you off. “Will you listen to yourself? You’re being a child”

“You’re one to talk after coming here to yell at me over my fucking neighbor asking for some sugar!” the silence was heavy, your words ringing in the air.

After what felt like forever, Calum finally spoke. “That was you neighbour?” you just nodded, not even wanting to keep the conversation going. He remained quiet a while longer, before speaking again. “I still don’t know why you haven’t talked to me in a week”

You sighed, hiding your head into your hands as you sat down on the couch. Calum was mindful of sitting further away from you than he usually would. You looked at him right in the eye, seeing expectation in them, but you didn’t want to adress the elephant in the room yet. “I still don’t know why you seem to hate my neighbour” you spoke, voice quiet and throat burning lightly from  the screaming match that had just ended. 

Calum figured he had nothing to lose right now, apparently you were avoiding him anyway. “I got jealous” he said it in a whisper. Your breathing stilled as you waited for him to go on. “I hadn’t heard anything from you in a week and I was worried something happened or that I’d done something, then I come here to make sure everything’s alright and he comes out of your apartment and you’re smiling and I’m not the reason-” he cut his blabbering short, inhaling deeply as you waited again, sure he could hear the frantic beating of your heart.

“I guess I just really like you” Calum looked at you, ready for you to start laughing and tell him that he might as well just get out, but he was met with utter surprise.

“You like me” you repeated, shifting your gaze from him to the floor. 

“I do” he confirmed, trying to calm down. “Please say something”

But how could you? You were sure you were going into shock. You looked at him again after interminable moments, a shy smile adorning your lips. “I guess I just really like you to” 

It was Calum’s turn to be shocked, as you explained why you didn’t give him the chance to stop you a week prior at the bar, the huge misunderstanding that led you to ignore him for days on end in hopes to shield yourself from heartbreak without him ever having to know. 

You were both idiots, you concluded as you started laughing at your stupidity. He shifted closer to you on the couch, his eyes bright and searching for yours, finding them moments later with just as much glee in them. Calum lifted a hand to lightly place on your cheek, stroking the skin softly with the pad of his thumb. “Can I kiss you?” he asked trembling in expectation. 

You just smiled and nodded, bringing your face closer to his until your lips crashed, knowing right then and there that he’d always be there to break your fall.

[aromanticautobot]

OptiRatch Concept: Ratchet goes out for a drink by himself one late night after work. He sees a mech slip something into a young archivist's drink, and he rushes to the rescue. (How Ratchet met Orion)

After a long, grueling shift at the hospital, Ratchet would often get a drink. A job in the medical care field is emotionally and physically draining, especially after hours upon hours of being trapped in those bright corridors with the sick and unwell. Ratchet's processor would remain fired up, analytical and trained to catch every detail well into the night if he didn't take the edge off. Hard focus and stress will do that to you. There was a cozy bar not too far from the hospital, tucked between a train station and a cosmetic shop, and right across from a decently nice hotel. Drunken mechs would usually sit at the windows and whistle and howl at the newly polished bots that left the shop. The bar was a very common place to pick up onenight stands and cute, flirty bots looking for a good time.

Ratchet was never into socializing whenever he was in the bar. It was always late, he was always tired and drained, seeking out a buzz before he retreated home and slept. He was a regular at that bar for that purpose, and the only mech that ever recognized him was the gruff bartender. 

He took his usual seat at the bar, waving to the mech and setting a few credits on the counter. This was a busier night, there was more of a crowd, more loud voices and more loud music. That meant Ratchet wouldn't stay for long. He wasn't much of a partier. 

The bartender slid a cube over to him, nodding his helm in a silent greeting before making his way around to other customers. That was about as friendly as he got. 

Sipping his cube, Ratchet shifted his weight and moved his sore pedes a little. It felt good to be off of his feet, even for a short while. 

When it was this late, bots tended to be more drunk and more rowdy. Ratchet had learned not to make eye contact, he had learned from his experiences of mechs attempting to pick fights with him to impress the dolled up date they picked up from the cosmetics shop. Ratchet had learned to stare at his drink while he sat.

Perhaps it was fate that led him to glance up this one time. Perhaps his neck cables were sore from looking down for too long, and he needed to stretch them. 

His optics found the very pretty sight of a small archivist, sitting at the bar a stretch down from him. The mech was red and blue, his paint decently kept, he was no diva from the nextdoor shop, but he was well groomed. He looked small, sitting with his servos clasped in his lap, legs pressed together. He looked adorably shy. 

His attention bought, Ratchet leaned to rest his chin on his servo to watch the sweet looking mech. Big, round optics, a shy smile, a pretty, well curved frame and a cute aft. The archivist was nice to look at. Taking another sip, Ratchet contemplated walking over and striking up a conversation. He could be quite the charmer when he felt like it. . . He could converse, buy him a drink, exchange contact information.  . .

Yes, he wanted to talk to the pretty archivist.

The stool creaked as he rose off of it, but before he could take his first step, a large green mech took a seat beside the archivist and handed him a drink. 

Oh.

A little bummed, Ratchet sat back down and took a long drink of his cube. That's alright, he was a bit tired to charm a mech anyway. 

The bartender refilled his cube when he finished the first drink, grumbling when he recieved a very small tip. 

Ratchet was about a quarter in to his new drink when out of the corner of his optic, he noticed the same archivist as before, that had been completely sober, sitting up tall and timid, was seemingly completely wasted. He stumbled and fell flat as he got out of his seat, knocking a cube of energon onto a nearby femme and making her shriek angrily. 

Strange, Ratchet thought to himself, watching the small mech grip the counter to haul himself back up. He only had that one drink. 

The green mech from before came to his aid, slipped an arm around his waist and hoisted him up, supporting most of his weight. He tossed a couple credits to the femme, smiling apologetically, before pulling the archivist towards the door.

Ratchet set his cube down and watched intently. He had been watching that archivist, he was absolutely certain that the one cube was all that the mech had. One cube wasn't enough to reduce a mech to THAT state, he couldn't be completely drunk from one drink, unless- FRAG, was he drugged?

Leaving his high grade on the counter, he slid off the seat and ran for the door, the stool rotating and squeaking as he left. Pushing a couple dancing mechs out of the way, he made it through the heavy bar doors, and into the street.

"N-N. . . No. . . Sssss. . . Stop. . ." 

The archivist's slurred voice was barely audible over the voices in the bar. Ratchet broke into a sprint, watching the green mech drag the resistant archivist into an alleyway. 

"Hey!" He shouted, and the mech stopped, turning to watch him approach. He slowed to a stop as he neared them, suddenly regretting his decision. His spell of bravery seemed to be over, he had thoughtlessly charged after the pair, and now, standing before them, he had no idea what to say.

"What?" The green mech said impatiently. "I'm trying to get my friend home."

"I watched you drug his cube," Ratchet lied. "I've called the authorities. If you run now you won't be caught." 

The mech hesitated before scoffing. "You misunderstand, this is my friend. We were just out for a drink, and he got a little carried away." He laughed a little, but it wasn't too convincing. "You know how some bots are. I told him to slow down, but here we are."

"He's your friend, is he?" Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest. "What's his name, then?" 

Another moment of hesitation before the mech spoke, "Bluezone. His name is Bluezone. We work together."

"N-No-" The barely conscious archivist was weakly pushing at his chestplating, resisting against the arm supporting him. "N- I'mmm. . . Orrrion. . . Or. . . Pax. . ." 

"That's his nickname." The green mech sputtered before Ratchet could say anything.

"P-please. . . Let. . ."

"They'll be here any minute." Ratchet said with confidence, despite the fact that he hadn't called anyone. "If you don't want to be charged with attempted rape, you ought to be running." 

They stared each other down for a moment, and for a second, Ratchet worried that the mech would call his bluff.

But the mech simply shoved the archivist off of himself and bolted for the train station, brushing against Ratchet roughly as he ran past him. 

"Frag!" Ratchet stared after him briefly, before looking down at the small mech he had saved. "Are you okay?"

"Please don't. . . Please don't touch. . . Mmm. . . Me. . ." The archivist was shakily trying to push himself off the ground. Tears were running down his cheeks.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." A pang of sympathy pulsed in Ratchet's field. "Can I help you up?" A weak nod answered him. He took the archivist's arm and pulled him upward, taking the majority of his weight and leading him back towards the bar. "Does anyone know you're here? Can someone pick you up?"

"I. . . Mega. . . Ngh. . ." 

"Mega? Who's that? Is that a friend of yours?"

The archivist appeared to black out for a moment.

A huff left Ratchet. That was unhelpful. The mech was too out of it to give him any useful information. He should go into the bar and ask if anyone there was named Mega, but he didn't want to leave the archivist alone, or hand him over to some other mech that would take advantage of him. 

"What the frag am I going to do with you?" Ratchet mumbled to himself. He couldn't take him home, he had no idea where he lived. His own home was too far away, he didn't think he could carry the mech's wait for that long, and the train conductor most likely wouldn't let them on.

Looking around, Ratchet tried to plan. 

His optics found the sign for the hotel across the street, tall and bright, windows casting yellow light onto the dark street. It was where the families of patients would stay whenever their loved one was in the hospital.  

Perfect.

"Come on." He pulled the weak archivist across the road, practically dragging him. Whatever the frag that dreadful mech used on him, it was strong. He was in and out of consciousness, mumbling and crying every so often.

The receptionist was a tired femme, who halfheartedly checked them in and tossed the room key onto the counter, before yawning and falling back into her chair. It took nearly all the credits from Ratchet's pocket to pay for the room, and the femme waited impatiently as he counted them out in frustration. Ratchet huffily thanked her and went to dragging his companion to the elevator. 

The trip to the room was a rocky one, but Ratchet managed, stumbling into their quarters as the archivist slipped from his hold for a second. Ratchet used the last of his strength to hoist the mech onto the fluffy, bouncy hotel berth.

Feeling the feathery comforter beneath him, the archivist seemed to panic. "N-No. . . Please. . ." He whimpered, tears streaking his handsome face. He weakly tried to push at Ratchet, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated. 

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm not going to do anything." Ratchet stepped away quickly, servos up. "I just couldn't take you anywhere else." 

He had no idea if the archivist heard him before he slipped into a drug induced recharge. 

Sighing, Ratchet sat down on the creaky hotel sofa. He was exhausted, and he had spent all his credits on the hotel room. How the frag was he going to board the train to get home? 

Whatever.

He didn't regret saving the little archivist, even if it meant he was stuck here. He'd figure something out in the morning. 

 

 

 

The smell of warm morning energon is comforting to wake to. Ratchet's systems onlined peacefully as he breathed in the sweet air, his optics opening to the ceiling of the hotel room. He had fallen asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a thin sheet. His back twinged with the pain of sleeping on the springy, creaky surface. Even when he was young, he felt old.

"Uh, good morning," a shy voice took his attention away from the ache in his spine. 

Yawning, he sat up, pushing the sheet off of him. He looked up to take in the pleasant sight of the archivist, standing timidly at the end of the sofa, those shining optics watching him nervously. "Good morning." He greeted with a small smile. 

In the archivist's servos were two cubes of steaming energon. "I'm Orion Pax." One was offered to him.

"Thank you." Ratchet took it and brought it to his lips, taking a small sip before introducing himself. "My name is Ratchet. You had quite the night, young mech. Do you remember any of it?"

Orion inhaled slowly. "I do, I remember most of it." That was surprising. "I remember you stopping that mech, and bringing me here." His voice cracked a little, and Ratchet's spark broke as tears came to his optics. "I want to say thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I just. . . It was really scary. I never thought that. . ." The little archivist sighed, trailing off and sipping his energon. He didn't seem to want to finish his sentence. 

"Well, I hope you learned something. Never accept drinks from strangers." Ratchet reached out and patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry that you went through that."

An awkward moment of silence.

"Is there anything I can do to pay you back?" Orion reached into his subspace. "I have credits, I can pay you."

"I would love to say no, and let you keep your credits, but I spent all of mine on this room, and I can't get on the train to go home. Just enough for a train ticket would be wonderful." 

"Of course!" The archivist quickly pulled out a small pouch where he kept his money. "Where do you live?"

"Near Iacon. I have an apartment." 

"Really? I work at Iacon." Orion dropped a few credits into his servo and slipped the pouch back into his subspace. "I work under Alpha Trion at the Iacon Database."

"I thought you had an Iacon look to you." Ratchet . "You know, if you'd like to take the train back together, I wouldn't mind the company."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm supposed to meet a friend." Ratchet hid his disappointment. "But. . . If you want to exchange contacts, we could meet another time. I could buy you lunch, or a drink, or whatever. I owe you so much!

"You don't owe me anything, Orion. But I would enjoy meeting you again, only if that's alright with you." 

The archivist graced him with a warm smile that ignited a heat inside him. 

I would very much like to see you again, Ratchet thought to himself. 

Yikes

Not my best writing but it's gonna be

A-Okay

[blue-honeycomb]

Quiet Devotion [Hawks x Reader]

Summary: You're grateful to Hawks for saving your life, even if it's the quiet kind.

Reader Details: Emotional, humble, loyal.

Quirk: Unbreakable Silk.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

---

He probably doesn't even remember you, but that's never bothered you all too much. You were just one more face among the hundreds he'd saved that year alone after all, let alone over the course of his entire hero career. Still, just because you were another body in the crowd didn't mean you thought you couldn't do anything for the Winged Hero.

Like this, spinning together a delicate pair of gloves with your Unbreakable Silk quirk, stitching every seam and weave with quiet, unending patience. It's taken months to finish the pair of them, but they are the last piece of the assemble you've been working on for years now.

The black silk that forms on the tips of your fingers is not something that can be massed produced, despite attempts in your childhood to do so. Ten strands a day is your limit, one for each finger ten inches long each. It is, however, lighter than actual spider's silk and an untold number of times stronger. It is, to your knowledge, fire, water and shock proof, as well as breathable. However, it does not retain heat and that worries you.

For all the benefits a suit made of your silk would provide for a hero as speed reliant as Hawks, the lack of insulation at the altitudes he flies would surly have disastrous consequences. But you have faith that a hero as intelligent as the number 2 could get around the issue with some prior warning. He does, after all, have an entire support network to resolve any issues that may arise.

With the final strains in place you set the gloves with the rest of the assemble, arranged neatly on the mannequin it rests on.

It's nice, you have to admit. You're not surprised though, since your quirk gives you a natural talent with any sort of fiber manipulation, be it organic or otherwise. Nonetheless, it's something to be proud of and you bask in your accomplishment for a good while afterward.

---

You decide to drop it off at Hawk's agency before you have to head to work, figuring it'd be safer to get the package into trusted hands immediately rather than trust it to a system just as vulnerable to villian interface as any other civilian run establishment. This wasn't arrogance speaking either, you'd been warned numerously throughout you childhood about how dangerous your silk could be in the wrong hands: 'Handing a villian a weapon is bad, but giving them a shield isn't much better'.

The drop off is quick. There's a mail slot at the side of the building specifically for fanmail after all and it doesn't take much effort for you to squish the package into the decently sized opening.

In no more than three seconds several years of your life's work has just been delivered to a man who doesn't even know you exist, but you find yourself happy. After all, you didn't do this because you wanted anyone's favor, but because there is not a person in the world who deserves your admiration more than the Winged Hero does.

He was the one who'd came back for you when everyone else had given you up for dead. He was the only one who came back. Your hero. The man you owe everything.

You smile as you walk away, secure in the knowledge that you have done right by him and by yourself.

---

Gloved hands skim over the shimmering, lighter-than-air material woven tightly into a thin black undershirt just a smidge too loose for his slender form. Each silken strain compressing under his fingers all but sing with a strength and complex density that have his wings nearly vibrating to interpret, like a silent symphony whispered across his feathers.

Still lounging across his chair, shirt in hand, he pages his security office.

"Hey, old man. Think you can pull up the video feeds from this morning? I believe a shy little spider paid me a visit today."

---

Seven Years Ago

---

There'd been a villian attack in your neighborhood; small by hero standards but intense enough to warrant an evacuation. The details were hazy, but you remembered fire, screaming and then falling a great distance into a sinkhole that'd unexpectedly opened up below you.

You'd come to to the sight of your nextdoor neighbors laying broken and lifeless in the darkness, lit only by the faint glow of a still burning car that'd been brought down the sinkhole with you. You'd only survived because you'd landed directly in the sand like sediments that'd brought you there.

Once the severity of your situation became clear you cried, from the pain and trauma, tears leaving streaks down your filthy, battered face. Time was ever changing down in the dark, especially after the fire died out, but you were conscious enough to know a lot of time had passed before you begun to lose hope that anyone would find you.

It was quiet. Cold. Hopeless.

Blinded and shivering, you almost jumped out of your skin when something brushed tenderly against you hand. As it was, you flinched and pulled away from it, terrified that something had finally come to finish you off while you were helplessly trapped under the rubble.

The thing, whatever it was, didn't bite or hurt you though. Instead it nudged your hand again, and this time you let it settle gently into your shaking palm. It was warm to the touch, soft and delicate.

You skimmed your fingertips against it carefully and burst into tears when you realized what it was, breaths coming in quick, half hysterical little laughs between shaking gasps.

In your hand lay a single, silken feather vibrating quietly against your fingers.

[starlightsentinel]

Double or Nothing, Chapter One

One night I dreamt of a faerie who challenged me to a game of chance and stole away my sleep. The next night I spent in a restless haze, unable to sleep a wink. The next night was the same, then the next, then the next. By the fifth night it was clear that the dream had been real, that I really had played that foolish game and wagered away my ability to sleep. Or at least it had been a metaphor, a portent of things to come, a warning from somewhere deep in my subconscious. By this point I was tired beyond belief, and even the simplest tasks required great effort, but the world wouldn't stop just for me: I still had to go to work and buy groceries and pay rent. Soon enough I was fired from my job due to what my manager described as a "decline in performance". I had a little money saved up but it soon became clear I had to move into a cheaper apartment. So I did, a tiny place downtown with no kitchen and a leaky roof and nextdoor neighbours who partied every night. I went for walks around town, hoping they'd tire me out and cure my insomnia, but I every night was a sleepless one no matter how tired I was. One evening I walked to a local noodle bar and ate some dinner there alone (over the last few weeks I'd fallen out of touch with my friends, and not knowing how to reply to texts like "everything ok?", "you seem distant lately", and "hey what's up" I'd simply ignored them until they'd given up on trying). After dinner I headed back home but soon realised I could no longer remember where exactly home was, that I was walking down an endless parade of identical-looking streets with identical-looking houses, like something out of a cheap cartoon. So I took a left at the next street corner and found myself in some kind of commercial district I hadn't visited before. Everywhere was closed except a 24-hour laundromat and a building with a sign that said "Midnight Cinema" in fancy cursive lettering, like a "The End" title card in an old Hollywood film. With nothing better to do I shrugged and stepped inside the midnight cinema, surprised to find several people milling around in the main lobby, chatting excitedly with one another. I'd never been to a cinema this late before, but I could recall former friends and workmates mentioning attending midnight screenings of big blockbusters, and I assumed the theatregoers were here for some exciting new film. I paid for a ticket and asked the impossibly old man at the ticket stand what exactly I was about to see, for the ticket itself was a gold-coloured sheet of blank paper with no indication, and come to think of it I hadn't seen any movie posters or “now showing” signs out the front of the cinema. But the old man evaded my question, simply saying "Oh, a marvellous film, I think you'll enjoy yourself tremendously, very much indeed."

I was starting to grow annoyed and was about to repeat my query more pointedly when I felt someone tap on my shoulder. I spun around and saw a man with long messy blond hair, probably in his late twenties or early thirties.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," he said, although it hadn't really been a conversation. "Tonight's feature just happens to be A Moment of Innocence (1996, dir. Mohsen Makhmalbaf). You ever seen it?"

"As a matter of fact I haven't," I replied in the slightly drawling monotone that comes with the territory of being sleep-deprived.

"Well you're in for a treat," the stranger beamed.

"Quite so!" enthused the old man. "It's one of the most popular films we show at the Midnight Cinema. Everyone seems to love it."

"You've chosen a good night to come to the Midnight Cinema, my friend," said the younger man. "You here with anyone?"

I shook my head, a little embarrassed.

"Well, you're among friends here. You're welcome to sit with me and my crew."

I thanked him, introducing myself in a tone that couldn't muster enthusiasm but roughly approximated gratitude.

"My name's Alec," pointing out a group of strangers who saw us and waved, "and this is my crew."

Just then a sharp sound chimed out, and I spun around again to see the old man at the ticket stand striking purposefully at a triangle.

"Time to file in," he announced. "The picture's starting soon. I do hope you all enjoy yourselves this evening."

As a matter of fact I did. It was a charming and seemingly lighthearted Iranian film which focused on the relationships between two middle-aged men and the two youngsters who had been cast to play them in an upcoming movie.

It was easy to follow and mercifully short, and I left the theatre feeling that the experience of watching it had been worthwhile, even though I had the feeling a lot of the film’s dramatic subtext had gone over my head.

Alec and his crew (five others to whom I still hadn't been properly introduced) were beaming and discussing memorable moments from the film as if they'd just seen it for the first time, even though Alec had implied earlier that he'd watched it before.

After we left the cinema they invited me somewhere called the Fox Hole. Not remembering my address or how to get back there I agreed to tag along. On the walk to the Fox Hole I learned the names of the rest of Alec's crew:

Yuki, Nico, Michel, Angelo, and Nuke.

Alec, Yuki, Nico, Michel, Angelo, Nuke, and I sauntered into an impossibly small and impossibly still open café/bar hybrid and sat ourselves down at what appeared to be the only table in the whole building. The place was lit by coloured lightbulbs that dangled from the cavernous ceiling. Alec ordered drinks and tapas from an exhausted-looking server. I tried smiling at her sympathetically, wondering how much she'd slept in the past few days, but I decided my smile probably came across as ridiculous at best and sinister at worst. My ability to control the muscles in my face had long since faded (smiling felt kind of like moulding shapes out of hardened clay with your bare hands), so I just sat and listened to Alec and his crew, who all wore the same kind of ridiculous oversized grey jacket, and who all seemed very interested in art and music and literature and film.

Nuke went on a long diatribe about the works of Jacques Derrida, with whom they seemed to have a very complicated relationship. I'd never read any Derrida so the conversation was totally beyond my grasp, not to mention I wasn't exactly running at full capacity to begin with.

Nevertheless they kept turning to me and asking what their new friend thought about this or that linguistic concept, and, absurdly, wanting to appear cultured in front of the crew, I acted as though I had in fact read Speech and Phenomena, and had similarly mixed opinions on that work. Nuke and the others seemed satisfied by my responses, no matter how insubstantial they came across.

The conversation shifted from book to book to book, and a couple of times throughout the night Alec put his arm around my shoulder and asked for my opinion on this or that novella I hadn't read yet, or if I was feeling okay, I seemed a little quiet.

"I'm fine," I muttered, cringing at the banal artifice of what I was about to say, "just tired."

"That's OK, friend. Need to be heading home soon?"

It took some effort to stop myself from bursting into tears.

I tried explaining that I didn't know where home was anymore, if it had ever even existed at all.

"Ah, don't worry about it," said Alec. "Some of my crew are between homes as well, or have been. My pad has plenty of room, so join my crew and stay as long as you want."

"Y-you sure?" I stammered, staring at a lightbulb dangling just beyond his face, illuminating its pores and crevices. "I barely even know you."

"Sure I'm sure," he said, and sure enough I was the newest member of his crew.

[cubeswhump]

Will Not be a Victim for my character, Blondie.

The neglected Blondie. I need to get back to my Powers Verse too. And the immortal bitches. I have a Sweetie and Michelle story drafted though.

Warnings for mentions of violence, referenced torture, bit of ableism. Pretty tame compared to what I usually write.

The phone rang from her nightstand, and again, and again. Then it started pinging with texts: Terry-Ellen has spoken to me but my own daughter won’t answer her phone.

I’ll be arriving at your house at 6PM.

Blondiw growled and dialled the number. The phone rang only twice before the deep voice came on the other line: “Oh, so you’ve decided to stop ignoring me?”

“Fucking hell, Dad. I’m twenty-three,” Blondie reminded him. “Chill.’

"Language, Melinda,” he scolded lightly. “I don’t care of you’re eighty-three. You’re still my daughter and we just got you back. I need to be sure that you’re okay.”

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you really?"

Blondie pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't call him a nosy twat, don't call your dad a nosy twat. She breathed out. "You hired a fucking bodyguard for me. "That's humiliating enough, and now you're prying into my life like I'm a child."

"Language. Good lord, you take after your mother," he sighed. "Who are you embarrassed in front of? You haven't left your house in more than two weeks." His voice was so even and annoyingly calm. Blondie swallowed back the snarl crawling up her throat. "Is it really prying to be concerned about my daughter? I just want to know that you're okay. I haven't seen you since-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by tomorrow. No need to stop by." She knew her father would have some words if she saw the state her house was in. Tej wasn't hired to clean after the slob, and no one had patched up the hole Blondie punched in the living room.

"Are you sure? If I come over you can stay home and rest," he offered.

"You just got on my ass for staying in my house!"

"You know that is not what happened, Melinda."

"I'll be there at eleven in the morning, okay?"

"I'll expect you by twelve."

Blondie huffed and hung up as he chuckled.

***

Tej was prodding her. "Get up. We've gotta go soon."

Blondie lifted her head abd ahot rhe other wonan a glare. "There's no we. You're staying home."

"You know that's not how it works," she said, unfazed. "I'll make you coffee."

"Don't." Blondie pyr one foot on the floor and grabbed one crutch. The other must have fallen over at some point in the night, and Blondie whacked Tej with the crutch in her hand when the thin woman tried to help her retrieve the fallen one. "Scram, bitch."

"Very nice, " Tej said sarcastically, handing her the crutch anyway. She caught the crutch Blondie swung at her. "Have you ever considered treating the help like people?"

"Go on, call me a bitch. There's nothing in your contract that says you can't insult me, yeah?"

"I'll leave you to get dreased," Tej said dryly. "Your hair looks nice. Did you wash it?"

She shut the door behind her just in time for the television remote to crash into the wood.

Blondie had only worn bath robes and undergarments for the last few weeks and she hadn't gotten to modifying any pants to her new body. Skirts? No, fighting in a skirt wasn't a great idea - if she needed to fight. Fights were always possible.

Shorts. A pair of shorts, one sock, one combat boot. The left bood sat all alone and sad. She kicked it over. Hair in a bun.

"Your coffee, Blondie." Tej shoved the steaming mug right in her face while Blondie was trying to sneak out the front door.

"I told you not to make me coffee," Blondie grumbled.

"Coconut creamer and one Sweet-N-Low," Tej tempted her, voice sing-song.

"I'm getting coffee on the way to my dad's, shithead." And she was out tje door, slamming it behind her - or trying to. Tej caught it just before it closed and slipped out after her.

"Want me to drive? You can relax," Tej offered, reaching for the keyring in Blondie's hand. Blondie jerked it away.

"I'll relax when you're dead. It's my fucking car."

"Cool, cool."

Tej was in the passenger's seat before Blondie had even opened her door so she couldn't even lock her out. Tej smiled at her knowingly. Blondie gripped the steering wheel sp hard her fingers turned white.

Tej tried to make conversation throughout the drive and Blondie turned the volume up a few notches every time she opened her mouth. After a million years, she pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

"I'll get you an iced mocha cappuccino," Blondie said as she got out of the car. Tej was stepping out too.

"Nah, I wanna look at the menu," she replied. Blondie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, reciting the "calming phrases" from her counseling sessions as a teenager.

When was this place ever this busy? Blondie sighed as she joined the line, Tej at her side. "You know, you're paying for your own shit."

"That's fair," Tej shrugged. "Your daddy pays me weekly."

Blondie sneered at her.

The line inched forward. A woman and her child joined. Seriously, did the entire fucking town want coffee right now?

"Wow..." the woman said, her voice hushed. "What happened?"

Blondie didn't realize the woman was talking to her until she felt a tap on her shoulder.she turned around, finding the woman's wide eyes on her still-bandaged stump. The little girl stared too, reaching for Blondie's crutch. Blondie jerked it away from her sticky hand and scowled, but neither noticed.

"What happened?" the woman asled again. "Why don't you get a prosthetic leg?"

"I pesteres someone with intrusive questions and she pulled out a machete," Blondie snapped. The woman recoiled.

"Ma'am, you're being very insensitive, and you should teach your child not to touch anyone's mobility aids." Tej launched right into a lecture. "Please treat my friend as you would treat-"

Blondie's temper boiled over. She raised one crutch and bashed it into the woman's knee. Tej's hand clamped over her own mouth as the woman fell over with a screech, dragging her daughter down with her.

"Oops. My bad." Blondie turned her back on the pair.

"Did you see that?" the woman cried as she got back to her feet. The cashier looked over from the customer he was dealing with, frowning.

"I'll be out fast," Blondie promised the cashier. "No trouble."

They walked out with their coffees and gluten-filled breakfast, Blondie's coffee spouting steam that smelled of coconut... Something she could have gotten at home. Tej predictably got a mocha cappuccino.

"I mean," Tej finally said during their resumed drive, mouth full of bagel, "not that I blame you much, but public battery isn't a food luck."

Blondie turned the radio up higher.

The guard let them into the gated, cookie cutter community. Towering houses were identical, painted a cream not a shade lighter or darker than the house nextdoor. Perfect gardens, no blade of grass even a centimeter overgrown. One house had flowers a different shade of pink than the rest. Blondie might have struggled to differentiate the houses if Chase weren't waving frantically at the end of one driveway.

"Melinda, love, how are you?" The large man was coming at her with open arms as she stepped out of the car. She was too slow thinking of an excuse to get out of hugging her stepdad, and he squeezed her tight.

"Peachy," she told him.

He hugged Tej too before letting both women into the house. He was talking a mile a minute and Blondie let Tej handle the conversation.

"I see you brought beverages. No tea then?" he asked. Blondie shook her head. "Oliver's in his study."

"Tell him hi for me," Tej chirped, and Blondie decided she would not do that. She hurried away when the other two started discussing how much they lift at the gym.

115 pounds? Unimpressive, Tej.

She didn't bother knocking on the mahogany door, throwing it right open. "Yo."

Oliver swiveled around in his chair like a James Bond villain. He even looked the part with his coiffed grey hair and serious expression. "Good morning, Melinda. You were almost on time. Have a seat."

"Nice to see you too," Blondie said sarcastically, falling back ontp the plump sofa.

"Oh, no, you're covered in crumbs! Why didn't you brush yourself off outside?"

"Just vacuum later. I had a muffin."

Oliver sighed, turning back to his laptop. "Depending on your recovery time, we'll get you fitted for prosthesis." He flicked through images. Some were very realistic and even matching her skin color, others clunky and robotic, some abstract and hardly resembling a limb. "We should find a design that fits your activity level, preferably a more realistic one. No one has to know. At that point we'll get you to that physical therapist I've been talking to, and-"

"Whoa, hold on a minure. Don't I get a say?" Blondie snapped. "And who said I want a realiatic one? Maybe I don't want to pretend I'm fucking normal."

"Whatever you want, darling. But I'm not going to let you hold yourself back."

"You tell me to take it easy abd slow down and then you get on my ass for being behind the curve. The fuck is that?"

Oliver sighed. He turned back tp his daughter, choosing his next words carefully. "I know how much you enjoy your hobbies. I think it'll be better for your mental health if you get back into dance and martial arts soon."

Back into dance. She was already the largest girl in the studio, dwarfing the tiny instructor even when she was twelve. Skilled as she was, she never had a ballerina's body and her instructor's main complaints were her thundering footsteps and "unladylike gait". Well, at least pointe shoes wouldn't hurt a prosthetic leg.

"It's my body and my life," Blondie reminded him.

"And it's my money that pqid your medical bills," he shot back. She rolled her eyes. "Melinda, you know I just want what's best for you. I want to help you. I need to help you."

"Help yourself first," Blondie snarled. "How's your boytoy?"

"I've been married to Chase since you were eight. Stop calling him my boytoy," Oliver sighed. Any other time, Blondie might have laughed at how annoyed her dad got when she mocked his husband. "And fifteen years isn't such a significant age difference when you're out of your twenties."

"He's a gold-digger."

"He's well worth what he costs, and he loves you like his own daughter. Come on, stop changing the subject. You mean so much to me. You were the victim of such a-"

"I'm not a victim," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed. "If anyone's a victim, it's that bitch Camilla. You know, queen of the cabbage patch."

Oliver's eyebrows knit together. "Cabbage patch?"

"Because she's a vegetable," Blondie said, and her father sighed heavily.

"I'm not denying that she's a bad person, but you don't need to be discriminatory. Other, much nicer people live with brain damage."

"Dad, shut the fuck up and listen to me," Blondie demanded. "I fought my way out. I'm not a victim!"

"Yes, yes, you're a survivor," he said in a voice like he was placating a toddler.

"No, I'm Melinda fucking Van Doren."

He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Before anything, you're my daughter and I want what's best for you."

"I actually know what's best for me because I am me."

"I'm your father. I know you pretty damn well."

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep in tough." Blondie started to stand, but Oliver held a hand up.

"Stay for lunch. Samantha made two extra plates."

It still weirded her out that her father had a cook. Her mother missed having servants after the divorce, but Blondie tried her best to keep her home free of employees. And she got stuck with Tej, the most intrusive Van Doren employee.

Chase brought two plates of chicken parmesan to the damn study.

"Workaholic," he said and rolled his eyes, kissing Oliver on the cheek. Blondie rolled her eyes. "Well, I've been having a lovely chat with Miss Tej while you two have been bonding."

Bonding. Sure.

Blondie stabbed into her chicken. She imagined it was the Queen - no, Camilla - that she was stabbing over and over, making sure she never recovered. Because she wasn't the Queen's victim.

She was Melinda "Blondie" Van Doren. She was a fucking hero and people would know that soon.

[capri-ramblings]

Midnight Beasts, CNCO Imagines +Special Insert

This is a mess,but okay ♥️.

•Richard

He's been your best friend since childhood,and the two of you were inseparable. Wherever little red hood went,her wolf was close to follow.

He was no Big Bad Wolf though. Far from it,really.

He was always afraid of revealing his true self, especially with the person he vowed his loyalty to. In his eyes you were too good for him,too human. Whereas he saw himself as a monster, something to be put down.

"You'll hurt her" This keeps him on edge. Keeps him believing that maybe one day,he will hurt you. And then what? The thought had him baring his teeth and clenching his fists.

You've always wondered why he kept to himself sometimes,how in one minute he's hugging and laughing with you and in another he's built this wall between the two of you. He didn't seem as free as he was when you were both younger. There was a restraint you saw in him but could never manage to figure out. It was like trying to find him in a sea of people but constantly losing him instead. Each passing day,you felt him drift further away from you. You're conflicted; A part of you wants to confront him about it. "What's wrong with you?", "What's happening with us?", "Are you okay?",and then there's the other part, the softer, much less angrier part that's too afraid to force him out of a shell he isn't ready to leave yet.

"I don't want to hurt him" This thought has you staying up late at night,wrapped in a blanket that you wished were his arms instead.

•Erick

You've been in this old town too long to not have known what really ruled over it,or who rules over it. The local Werewolves here didn't even bother to hide it, but you hid the fact that you knew. Mostly because you weren't really interested in getting tangled up in all that drama, and because to be honest,you weren't really interested in them whatsoever. They were all too... Wolfy? If you had to describe it. They seemed to have no control over their Impulses or instincts, always needing to mark what they own and go around howling at night to warn people of their prowess.

They looked like humans but acted more like beasts than ever.

You weren't into the whole vibe of it, of course until the young pack of wolves showed up and butchered literally any prejudices you had for their species in one single clap. Unlike the ones you grew up with, these males knew what being in control was and they did it without being animals about it. There were five of them,all well-built and dominating in their own way, yet they worked perfectly well together. Almost like actual blood brothers. You remember meeting one of them at the grocers once, and how different it was to talk to him. How human and casual it felt.

The other packs hated them with some exceptions of smaller packs joining alliances with them.

If that wasn't enough, you couldn't keep your eyes off the youngest one.

"He's a lil too young for me" You tell your friend at the bar, and yet had your gaze fixated on him like a magnet. He sat at the table right across the room, surrounded by the other wolves. They were laughing and although he was too, he seemed as if he was in an entirely different zone than theirs. Gaze still and hooded, the dark themed club illuminated his forest green eyes like a temple, and when he glanced your way, lingering, you lost your breath and then your heart.

•Christopher

You could train a monkey and it would be more successful than trying to train your overly enthusiastic, optimistic and jokester nextdoor neighbor.

It wasn't that you disliked him, Chris was someone very easy and pleasant to be around. Almost everyone wanted to be his friend and have him cracking jokes at their parties,but you never had parties (never wanted to), you weren't always in the mood for jokes and sometimes having someone who always seemed ready to jump just at the mention of your name was a bit stressful. Still, you didn't hate him.

Unlike all those TV dramas and teen books that portrayed his kind as unstable and constantly on edge, Chris rarely ever lashed out on you or turned to his Werewolf nature. There were days you even doubted that he was one until you almost got mugged once and he lunged in to help you; The happy-go-lucky demeanor he carried gone as he stood in front of you and bared his teeth,eyes bright and gleaming with the intent to kill. You could never get that Image out of your head, but you trusted him, so the fear vanished quickly.

If only the annoyance did as well. *sigh*

He doesn't leave you to your space at all, you don't even think he understands the meaning of personal space. The books and series got one thing right at least; He was protective.

"Jesus Christ,I can walk home perfectly well alone."

"But mi amor, what if someone jumps out from a bush and hurts you?"

"I think someone else is going to get hurt if they don't leave me alone"

•Zabdiel

When you first see him, he has his lips on another woman's. Hands gripping a waist that would break so easily in his grasp as she leans in against him.

His eyes peaking through dark lashes as heavy as the focus dwelling in those deep set of brooding brown gaze.

You watch him and notice how he looks at you as if the woman he held didn't exist.

A voice. A name. Your friend is calling out to you, you turns around,head slightly dizzy as if you've already started drinking.

That night, nothing was as loud as the sound of your pulse beating in your ears each time your mind went back to him.

He's aloof, or seems to be at first, when you meet again it's because your friend was a friend of his and decided to drag you along to hangout. A part of you flinched at the sight of him,this odd sense of intimidation holding your head down, while the other part had you feeling giddy, too excited to say you weren't at least attracted to him. You kept your distance however,never letting your friend leave you alone whether or not he was near. The thought of being around him for too long and without any kind of support seemed all too dangerous.

But,you couldn't keep yourself from stealing glances his way, couldn't help but wonder if he remembers you.

His friends were so friendly, attentively listening and making you feel at ease, all the while he sat on the sofa with his legs parted, and arms stretched across the sofa's headrest. He smiled once in a while, let out a little laugh out of courtesy, but you didn't feel like he was really letting you in. It was more like he placed a mirror in front of it all and leaned against it for the illusion of being friendly.

Now you saw him as an overly powering male with no actual interest in anything other than his ego and image, and you were pissed.

"I think I'm gonna head home first" You tell your friend as you stood up and grabbed your things.

"It's still early tho—"

"I've got somewhere else to go"

You didn't let her say anything else as you bristled pass her, head held high and temper fuming. You weren't entirely sure why but you know he could've at least acted like he was interested just a little bit more, and not as if he was doing it because his friends told him to. As if you didn't exist in his radar at all.

Caught up in your frustration, you barely noticed the male tailing behind you and only realized it a bit too late when you went to open the door but it closed right in front of you instead.

"What?" You swirl around ready to lash out, yet unprepared for the intense gaze that immediately froze you in place.

Zabdiel loomed over you like the sky, expression unreadable.

Your breath hitched, words lost.

He looks you over,eyes deliberately drinking in your form before it shifts to your lips and then straight to your eyes.

He leans in,your eyes shut close.

Then a voice; "There's pizza in the fridge, we're gonna heat it up later. You should stay."

•Joel

"You don't get it" Joel throws his hands in the air, frustration glistening in the brown of his eyes,and you watch as he paces from the sofa to the kitchen counter like an upset child.

"Joelito, you're a werewolf not a three headed donkey,stop stressing"

"How does that make me stop stressing?" He glares at you, eyes narrowed "You're bad at this,I should've went to Ricky instead."

You thought Christopher was a handful but being in charge with a werewolf like Joel was like Hell's kitchen. Anything could be set on fire, and all because he makes it sound like everything was flammable.

Out of all the five, Joel was the one most worried about being what he was. Or at least he acted like the world was constantly ending because of it.

He needed to keep up his image,had to make sure it wasn't obvious he wasn't entirely human. He fussed over every tiny detail. It was overbearing, but you knew he meant well by it. He cared,not only about himself but about the other guys too. He knew how risky it was if people found out,knew what each guy was putting on the line. He couldn't afford to let it slip.

He was grateful you're constantly by his side,he's not going to admit it (even when everyone else already knows) but he's had a crush on you for a long time,and despite it all, he found confiding in you the most comforting thing ever. He could tell you all his secrets and doubts,and not worry about being put down. You understood him, and even when you didn't you always try to understand. You kept him grounded, and he'd risk his life to keep you safe.

•Yashua

He's the one in the gang that doesn't seem to fit like a puzzle piece but brings a whole new charm to it regardless. The loner and at the same time the one who has his Pack's back anytime.

People gather around him, laughing, enjoying themselves, and he always finds a way to loosen up anyone who isn't having fun.

And yet, as you learn to take time and really observe him, you've come to realize how there's this impenetrable wall around him. You notice the little things he does,how he stays quiet and watches any newcomers before really going out there and interact. As if every move he makes has already been calculated.

It took you a whole day to have him actually say something to you, and that was after everything had died down and people were getting ready to head home, he was friendly though. When he told you to take care and stay safe on your way back, you heard the genuineness in his voice and warmth in the way his lips curved into a small smile.

It was funny,but after seeing that you couldn't help but to smile yourself all the way home.

He was charming, and it showed in the way people's eyes lit up when he made jokes and fooled around. He dresses and sometimes acts like he's one of the young pups but you got the feeling it was a cover up. He wasn't as reckless as the younger wolves you knew, and he wasn't dumb either. It showed in the way his gaze would sharpen and dim just a bit whenever a situation happens,as if he's studying it all with a keen eye and an ever keener mind.

The way his body asserts his dominance is loud but the way he keeps to the back of the group during outings and chills around with the older members makes him seem quiet, intense even.

But then again,there's days when he's the loudest of them all, not bothering to hide the fact that he could out alpha anyone present.

He was something hard to decipher, someone not so one layered. Maybe that's why you find yourself falling.

@whymyeyeslikethat @cnco-hq